63 



CHAPTER VII. 



THE FOX-HOUND. 



On the straightest of legs and the roundest of feet, 

 With ribs like a frigate his timbers to meet, 

 With a fashion and fling and a form so complete. 

 That to see him dance over the flags is a treat. 



In the last chapter I treated of the fox — the most popular animal 

 in creation at the present time, l^ow let me say a few words 

 concerning the fox-hound, who, if he does not rival, at least 

 stands next him in public estimation, and deservedly so, for 

 look the whole canine world through, from the gigantic St. 

 Bernard to the tiniest toy, and what can you find to (I will not 

 say rival : as well might the stars seek to rival the sun : but) 

 compare with him 1 Look at him as he stands, fleet as a race-horse, 

 graceful as a woman, full of life and frolic as a schoolboy, and 

 strong as Hercules. Look him weU over and find one harsh 

 outline, one curve or line which does not harmonize, if you can. 

 Do you want intelligence, note his countenance; activity, watch 

 his lithe frame as he vigorously bounds from side to side ; 

 strength, look at his great bone, straight legs, compact frame, 

 and broad back, loins, and quarters. There he is, the acme of 

 power in a small compass, the very embodiment of the multum 

 in parvo idea. Detect one ounce of lumber, cut away or alter one 

 line that would not mar the whole, as completely as it would in 

 the Venus de Medici or the Apollo Belvedere, and then own 

 that he is the king of the canine world. The greyhound can 

 scarcely outstrip him for speed, the bloodhound for nose ; while 



