THE FOX. 



245 



in gorgeous uniforms, and floating banners, as the 

 hostile forces move along to battle. 



But, in a British fox-hunt, sorrow never shews 

 its face. When the hour for pastime has arrived, 

 we behold, assembled at the cover, gentlemen, with 

 here and there a lovely lady clad in scarlet, and 

 mounted on steeds, which for breed and beauty 

 are unparalelled in the annals of hunting. The 

 houpds too, may rival those of Actseon himself, 

 who, poor fellow, made the most unfortunate mis- 

 take of riding up to the fountain, whilst Diana was 

 in the bath. For this unintentional act on his 

 part, the angry goddess changed him into a stag, 

 and he was worried unknowingly by his own 

 hounds. The names of these dogs, were much 

 more sonorous, than those which we Englishmen 

 give to our own dogs now-a-days. There was in 

 Actseon's pack, " Pamphagus, et Dorceus, et 

 Oribasus, Arcades omnes, Nebrophonosque valens, 

 et trux cum Loelape Theron." 



But, to our subject. The whin-cover is drawn 

 in scientific style. Up starts Eeynard, with brush 

 as clean as ladies gloves, — and fur in supreme per- 

 fection. " Tally ho, — gone away, gone away," 

 resounds from hill to hill. Following on his track, 

 swiftly sweeps the pack, with horse and foot, in 

 one tremendous rush; as though poor Charley 



