THE FOX. 



247 



hedge, — and has just this moment, come to the 

 ground, head over heels, from the neck of his 

 plunging horse. But, luckily, he is up again, on 

 his unorthodox legs, — none the worse for his 

 tumble. Tne horse has galloped away ! No mat- 

 ter, — some of the company will stop it, and restore 

 it to the undaunted rider. O what noble sport ! 



" Nimrod's courage is a treasure, 

 Hunting is the Briton's pleasure : 

 Rich the treasure, — sweet the pleasure, 

 Sweet is pleasure after pain." 



The chase grows hotter: — nothing can exceed 

 the excitement. Farmers leave their ploughs and 

 horses shooters quit their stubble fields; — and 

 every son of Ceres is on the move. All run helter 

 skelter to enjoy a treat of fox-hunting. Push on 

 my boys, but, at the same time, remember what the 

 horse formerly said to its rider, — "up the hill, 

 push me not, — down the hill, spur me not, — on 

 level ground, — spare me not." The hounds are in 

 full cry: — what delicious music in the ears of 

 Nimrod ! 



But, suddenly, the cries are heard no more The 

 sportsmen, as is often the case, have pressed too 

 keenly on the pack, and lo ! — the dogs are at 

 default. No longer can the scent be touched upon. 

 Reynard, whose fate seemed sealed beyond all 



