98 A MONTH IN THE FOEESTS OF FRANCE. 



during those two days had never viewed one, save 

 the first as he fell dead. Nevertheless I had quite 

 resolved in my own mind one fact, and that was, that 

 when an old solitary wild boar was brought to bay, 

 and had made up his mind to fight it out, the man 

 was a downright good one who had cool resolution 

 sufficient in the first place to ascertain which way the 

 wind blew, and then, his life depending on his eye 

 and hand and the ignition and certainty of his fire, 

 to make his way steadily through the blinding and 

 dense copsewood up to where the sullen war was 

 raging, and, at the risk of a charge being made on 

 him by the boar ere he had yet seen him, peer 

 through the bushes, ascertain the position of every 

 hound, and slay the mighty monster in his " arm- 

 chair." 



When the boar is fixed at hay hy the hounds^ he seats 

 himself on his hams against a tree or bush, and in 

 that position awaits his baying assailants, till one 

 more bold than the rest comes within the reach of his 

 tusk. To hear the vieux sanglier charge through 

 the dense cover, which he always selects to fight or 

 die in, on some assailant, reminds me of the first rush 

 of a rocket, so do his immensely wide shoulders, pro- 

 pelled by his Herculean loins and quarters, crash 

 through all impediments. His charge is sure to be 



