December Days 



The huntsman, who is never in a bad hurry, 

 trots up to where the fox has been seen, and 

 the moment hounds touch the line, they rush 

 together with a glad cry, and then race on in a 

 body, and with a swing and drive such as is not 

 seen more than a dozen times in a lifetime. 

 Reader, if you are worthy the name of a sports- 

 man, you will never forget the first time you 

 heard that joyous cry, nor the thrill which it sent 

 through you. Even if you were not quite a first 

 flight man, you hardened your heart on that 

 occasion and rode on as if you were. In the 

 hurry and scramble and excitement of a good 

 start you found yourself over three or four stiff 

 fences without knowing it, and then — why the 

 rest seemed easy. Many a good man has been 

 made by a start in a historic run, for though the 

 country may be big there is always plenty of 

 room when hounds run as they are running 

 to-day. 



Half an hour fleets past like a few minutes, 

 and the young farmer on the four-year-old 

 knows he has had enough, and wisely pulls up 

 before his horse begins to flag. He has enjoyed 



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