218 DAYS OF DEER-STALKING. 



At length their hearts throbbed with uervous excitement, 

 for they were fairly within a hundred yards of a long shot. 

 For a space they rested to ease their limbs and gain steadi- 

 ness, still lying extended like corpses. Tortoise whispered, 

 " Now then be calm, and when we come within distance, 

 take the hart to the right, he is the best ; a little further 

 and our task is done." 



Twenty yards forwarder they gained in security; another 

 ten with the same success : they were getting nearer and 

 nearer every moment, and their hearts trembled. There 

 was a little knoll, or small rise of ground, before them, 

 where the heather grew in larger tufts, and this point once 

 gained (of which there was every probability), they would 

 be within reasonable distance of as fine harts, they roundly 

 asserted, as any in the forest; so onward they still crawled, 

 with pain and fatigue. 



But if deer-stalking, or any other species of sporting, 

 were of easy achievement, what would become of all those 

 delightful changes that animate us in the chase? no longer 

 would our bosoms throb with hope, or sink from an appre- 

 hension of failure ; we should keep " the even tenor of our 

 way," tame in pursuit of the quarry : and, as Captain 

 Bobadil has it, " too respectful of nature's fair lineaments." 

 Plans well laid and executed, difficulties overcome by skill, 

 by labour, and perseverance, these are the events that 

 flatter our self-complacency, and give the highest zest to 

 the sportsman. 



It is the desire to evince this skill, and surmount these 

 difficulties, that carries the ardent deer-stalker through bog, 

 through burn, up hill, and down precipice; creeping, wad- 

 ing, running, or lying ; heedless alike of mire, waters, and 

 fatigue : but still with all his caution, even with the most 

 consummate generalship, and in the very tumult of ex- 

 pected success, 



' medio de fonte leporum, 



Surgit amari aliquid quod in ipsis floribus angat." 



And if ever a bitter thing did happen, if ever the chalice 

 were dashed from the lips, it was at the critical moment 

 when we left our sportsmen just within shot of the deer. 

 "Tears of compassion tremble on our eyelids," whilst we 



