216 THE FOX. 



-but I have not done with him. The pleasing part of his 

 adventures has yet to come. 



I now wish my reader to consider him in the shape of a Janus- 

 bifrons, that is, an animal with two faces one of which will be 

 in perpetual menace to put farmers and henwives on their guard, 

 whilst the other will exhibit smiles and animation, to assure our 

 lovers of the chase that he will always be ready, during the proper 

 season, to afford them facilities for horsemanship, and many a long 

 run of manly and healthy exercise, not to be found with so much 

 splendour, and so many advantages, in any other portion of the 

 globe. 



Thus may Great Britain boast, that for many good and weighty 

 reasons she cherishes an apparently insignificant little quadruped, 

 which, at the same time that it will worry all her unprotected 

 poultry, from the majestic swan to the little bantam, can afford 

 exercise and amusement to all ranks of people aye, even to ladies 

 of high degree and eminent endowments. 



I well remember the day when half a dozen ladies, all dressed in 

 scarlet habits and mounted on prancing steeds, would join the hunt, 

 and show what female courage could effect. More than once, in 

 the day's run, have I myself dismounted, and torn away the opposing 

 hedge-stake from before them, to save mishap. 



In this last character of affording amusement, Reynard is abso- 

 lutely invaluable to those who duly estimate a warlike breed of 

 horses, and resolute riders, who, in the field of Nimrod, commence a 

 career which forms them for after deeds of intrepidity and patriotism 

 in the warlike ranks o Mars. Moreover, the chase of Reynard 

 restores health to convalescents, gives pastime to the gentry, and 

 exercise to the multitude in every direction. 



It is generally allowed that two armies, drawn up in battle array, 

 present a splendid and a grand appearance. But when we reflect 

 that they are assembled on the plains of death ready, at a moment's 

 warning, to commence the work of mutual slaughter oh ! then it is 

 that sorrow fills the pitying breast ; and there is no charm left in 

 gorgeous uniforms, and floating banners, as the hostile forces move 

 along to battle. 



But, in a British fox-hunt, sorrow never shews its face. When the 



