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CHAPTER X. 



FOX-HUNTING. 



" The sport of kings, the image of war, without its guilt, 

 and only twenty-five per cent, of its danger." 



So says our old friend Jorrocks, and, by Jove, 

 he is right ; it is truly a kingly sport, and 

 proud I am to see our own Prince of Wales 

 (whom I have seen in the field more than 

 once, and right well he goes, and appears 

 to enjoy it too), who will one day be king, 

 take such an interest in it. 



I was once asked to shoot a fox. It happened 

 in this way. I was shooting with a friend at — 

 well, I won't mention the place, an out-of-the- 

 way one, where there were no fox-hounds, and 

 foxes were not preserved. In the course of 

 a day's covert shooting I caught sight of a 

 fox crossing a ride, and could not resist the 



