The Hunting Year 



budding larches. You may, in some moods, join 



with the old huntsman in execrating " the d 



stinking vi'lets," which are bringing the season 

 to a close ; and at certain times you may join 

 with Ko-Ko in singing " Bother the flowers of 

 the Spring." But no hunting man worthy of the 

 name of sportsman is blind to the beauties of 

 Nature as they unfold themselves to his eyes; 

 and as you ride through the woods, rich in their 

 display of violets and primroses, and daffodils, 

 and wild hyacinths, and wood anemones, you 

 recall the anathemas you uttered in your haste, 

 and whilst hoping for a good day's sport, you 

 realise the fact that, if it should be your fortune 

 to fall in with one, it will be none the less enjoy- 

 able because it takes place amongst the reviving 

 vegetation of an English spring. 



And if the season has been an open one, and 

 a hard one, terms which, if not always, yet are 

 frequently synonymous, you will probably reflect 

 as you jog along the woodland rides that the 

 time has come for a rest. An ominous trip, now 

 and again, on the part of the horse you are 



riding, most sure-footed and safest of mounts, 



142 



