IN THE CATSKILLS 



I waited, and patiently, till, chilled and benumbed, 

 I was about to turn back, when, hearing a slight 

 noise, I looked up and beheld a most superb fox, 

 loping along with inimitable grace and ease, evi- 

 dently disturbed, but not pursued by the hound, 

 and so absorbed in his private meditations that he 

 failed to see me, though I stood transfixed with 

 amazement and admiration, not ten yards distant. 

 I took his measure at a glance, a large male, with 

 dark legs, and massive tail tipped with white, a 

 most magnificent creature ; but so astonished and 

 fascinated was I by this sudden appearance and 

 matchless beauty, that not till I had caught the last 

 glimpse of him, as he disappeared over a knoll, did 

 I awake to my duty as a sportsman, and realize 

 what an opportunity to distinguish myself I had 

 unconsciously let slip. I clutched my gun, half 

 angrily, as if it was to blame, and went home out 

 of humor with myself and all fox-kind. But I have 

 since thought better of the experience, and con- 

 cluded that I bagged the game after all, the best 

 part of it, and fleeced Reynard of something more 

 valuable than his fur, without his knowledge. 



This is thoroughly a winter sound, this voice 

 of the hound upon the mountain, and one that is 

 music to many ears. The long trumpet-like bay, 

 heard for a mile or more, now faintly back in the 

 deep recesses of the mountain, now distinct, but 

 still faint, as the hound comes over some prominent 

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