246 



THE FOX. 



Stuart had risen again, and they were glad to see 

 him. By the way, he could not have been worse 

 than any of the four Georges, if we may believe 

 the eloquent Mr. Thackeray. 



But this means nothing; — let us attend to the 

 hunt. See there ! Sir Anthony is down in the 

 mire, and his horse has rolled over him. Never 

 mind. The horse has merely broken its neck; — 

 and the baronet, has lost his right ear, by a kick 

 from the dying steed. Sir Anthony will soon be 

 sound again, if his surgeon only bleeds him 

 well : — and as for the horse, — there are more in 

 the stable, ready to take the field. 



Dash on, my boys, — grand and lovely is the 

 sylvan scenery ! 



" Before us, trees unnumbered rise, 

 Beautiful in various dyes : 

 The gloomy pine, — the poplar blue, 

 The yellow beech, — the sable yew, 

 The slender fir, that taper grows, 

 The sturdy oak, with broad spread boughs." 



Behold to the left, — a whipper-in is bogged, up 

 to the middle in a quagmire ! — whilst the young 

 squire, by one desperate leap, has barely escaped a 

 similar predicament. And farther onwards, on yon 

 rising slope, his reverence the Vicar, has left 

 behind him, a portion of his coat in the hawthorn 



