A SENTIMENTALIST ON FOXES 57 



his early years. What he wrote was the fox story — 

 a hunting incident in the village that had deeply 

 impressed his boy mind. The fox, hard pressed, 

 and running for dear life, came into the village and 

 took refuge in a labourer's cottage, and entering 

 by the kitchen door, passed into an inner room, 

 and, jumping into a cradle where a baby was 

 sleeping, concealed himself under the covering. 

 The baby's mother had gone out a little way, but 

 presently seeing the street in a commotion, full 

 of dogs and mounted men, she flew back to her 

 cottage and rushed to the cradle, and plucking 

 off the coverlet saw the fox snugly curled up by 

 the side of her child, pretending to be, like the 

 baby, fast asleep. She snatched the sleeping child 

 up, then began screaming and beating the fox, 

 until, leaping out of the cot, he fled from that 

 inhospitable place, only to encounter the whole 

 yelling pack at the threshold, where he was quickly 

 worried to death. 



The editor was so pleased with the anecdote 

 that he not only printed it but encouraged the 

 little rustic to write other things, and that is how 

 his career as a writer began. 



Now, albeit a sentimentalist, I would not say 

 that the fox took refuge in a cradle with a sleeping 

 baby and pretended to be asleep just to work on 

 the kindly, maternal feelings of the cottage woman 

 and so save his life, but I do say, and am pretty 

 sure that not one of the Hunt and not a villager 

 but felt that the killing of that particular fox was 



