242 A YEAR OF SPORT AND NATURAL HISTORY. 



the kind for which impetuous youth has been fretting since the 

 earHest notes of horn and hound were heard. The pack, too, 

 knows its work now, or never will, and the master is nothing loth to 

 let the mettle of his hounds be tried in chase of a stout-hearted 

 rover. The joy that thrills young nerves when the whipper-in's 

 halloa, no longer suppressed, tells that a good cub has gone away, 

 is contagious. The oldest among us cannot resist it. He would 

 fain gallop as they do when hounds are speeding over the rounded 

 uplands ; feel the keen rush of air that comes whistling out of the 

 gloomy clouds, and enjoy the rapture of rivalry once more. One 

 can hardly find it in his heart to blame even the man who, in his 

 eagerness to be with the pack, crashes over a fence and rides head- 

 long for the hounds, regardless of their having checked on the 

 river bank, where he is in danger of killing them and drowning 

 himself. And what a disappointment it is to the huntsman if he 

 cannot write, "killed in the open" at the end of his hunting notes 

 for that day. It is, no doubt, a laudable ambition for one who 

 believes that the first duty, if not the sole mission in life, of hounds 

 and huntsmen is to kill foxes, and we all do our best to encourage 

 it while the run lasts. But somehow, the final scene that fills him 

 with a fierce joy brings a touch of regret to some true sportsmen, 

 who would always wish that a good cub might live to grow into a 

 good fox, and to lead us many more glorious chases than any we 

 are Hkely to see before the season of Cub-hunting ends. 



