M. lii > 
and damage, and the uncountable destitution whicli can 
not help but occur to the unfortunate inhabitants in the 
'future, who are helpless against the resistless forces 'of 
nature by which this most valuable and interesting region 
is doomed to destruction unless the saving hand is 
stretched out to protect it. H. Stewart. 
Lord Fairfax, the Father of Fox 
Hunting in America. 
Fox hunting, unlike many other branches of sport, has 
a cult peculiarly its own, a vernacular that is as Greek 
to the uninitiated, and a history, unwritten 'tis true, but 
sacredly preserved in the traditions of the followers of 
horse and hound. The names of Fairfax, Henry, Bird- 
song, Maupin, Robinson, Lynthicum, Hard3' and a host 
of others that the Historical Muse disdained to rescue 
from oblivion are still faithfuny preserved and their 
memories revered by American tox hunters, while the 
musical notes of their favorite hounds still echo through 
the long vista of departed years. 
The birthplace of fox hunting in America was in Vir- 
ginia. As there were brave men before Agamemnon, so 
there may have been fox hunters in America before the 
subject of this sketch; but if so, no record of the fact 
remains, and after diligent research I am convinced that 
to Lord Fairfax belongs the honor of being the pioneer 
fox hunter as we now understand the term, and as con- 
tradistinguished from the mere fur hunter — the first ex- 
ponent of the noble sport in its highest phases. He was 
an interesting character, his life a strange one, full of 
vicissitudes, and my regret is that I have been able to 
find so little about him in the mouldy memoirs of the 
last century, which have wasted good ink and paper upon 
so many less worthy characters. 
As I have said, his life was one of strange contrasts, as 
indeed was the history of the age in which he lived. 
Born in the last days of the seventeenth century, to all 
the wealth and power of a peer of England, he lived to 
see, at the close of the eighteenth, the old order of 
things of which he had sickened, the old society with its 
dissolute shams and abuses, pass away before the tem- 
pest of the American Revolution. Tall and well propor- 
tioned — 6 feet in height — with keen gray eyes, an aqui- 
line nose and regular features, he cut a swell figure in 
the gay society of London under George I. 
There are two pictures of him preserved to posterity. 
The first represents him as a young man in the gorgeous 
uniform of the famous regiment of horse called "The 
Blues," in which for a short time he held a commission, 
as was the fashion among the young nobility. 
As we look at this picture we can almost hear the 
voice of the dead past — the laughter and the chorus, the 
toast called over the brimming cups, the shout at the 
race course or the gaming table, the coarse jokes spoken 
to the fine ladies who smile at us out of the old gilt 
frames. How fine those ladies were, painted and pow- 
dered and patched, who laughed at the indecent witti- 
cisms of Sterne and Steele and Swift; the modest maidens 
who wept over the misfortunes of Pamela, and smiled 
over the adventures of Tom Jones. How grand this fine 
gentleman in his gorgeous uniform — this product of the 
dead past — a past that has forever buried its dead, its 
fine gentlemen. The provender upon which they fat- 
tened no longer grows even in monarchical .England. 
Vulgar tradesmen no longer stand hat in hand as he 
passes; obsequious clergy no longer bow down before 
him and say, "Your Worship" and "Your Honor" at 
every other word, and prime ministers no longer burst 
into tears of reverential joy, as Lord Chatham did when 
his royal master deigned to address a few civil words to 
him. 
If Lord Fairfax passed his youth, as did other noble 
youths, in the society of the wits and Beau Brummels of 
that dissipated age when infidelity was endemic and the 
taint of corruption in the air of court and cofifee house 
ahke, we must remember that they had no incentive to 
be otherwise. The profession of arms was the only one 
open to them, and this was closed by universal peace. 
The church, the bar, the arts and commerce were be- 
neath them. Lord Fairfax, being a man of wit and learn- 
ing, occasionally dabbled in literature, and wrote a num- 
ber of essays for Addison's Spectator. That charming 
gossipping valet de chambre of history to whom no man 
was a hero, has depicted the life of a man about town 
in that dissolute day, and by its help we can follow young- 
Lord Fairfax through the gay crowd of bewigged, be- 
rufifled, embroidered, snuff-boxed and red-heeled fops 
that disgraced Anglo-Saxon manhood under the peace- 
ful reigns of the first two Georges. 
We can follow him through the dirty streets of old 
London, with its crowds of swinging chairmen, liveried 
lackeys and linkboys, to the theater, the puppet show, 
the cockpit or prize ring, after which he resorts to his 
favorite cofifee house, where he sits down to cards with 
Lord Chesterfield, or some other titled blackleg, or 
drinks a bowl with Steele or Addison, and watches the 
tide of human life flow by the club windows — the fine 
ladies tripping to the toy shops, followed by their foot- 
boys and ogled by 'the gold-laced guardsmen; itinerant 
tradesmen vociferously hawking their wares; gilded car- 
riages bearing courtiers to His Majesty's drawing room; 
the heavy stage coach with its gay postilions rumbling 
by, to be stopped at night on a lonely common by a 
masked gentleman, who thrusts a flintlock into the coach 
and politely calls for the passengers' purses. It was 
during this period that England justified its claim to the 
title of Merrie England. The sole occupation of men 
and women seemed to be to amuse themselves, and what 
witli drinking and dining and dancing; what with cards, 
cockfights, horse racing and prize fighting, bull and 
badger baiting, May poles and Morris dances, high and 
low alike seemed to have abandoned all idea of useful 
pursuits, and one wonders what time they found for the 
serious business of life. 
But why dwell upon this picture? However interest- 
ing as a portrayal of contemporary manners and cus- 
toms, the amours and petty details of the life of a man 
about town in that day are repugnant to the wholesome 
taste of the present. No wonder that a man in whose 
disposition' were the seeds of better things, and whose 
true nature was one of noble and generous impulses, 
haing sown his wild oats, having drunk of the cup to 
its nauseating dregSj should sicken of this godless, tn- 
tnguiiig, sycophantic and selfisji Vanity Fair, in which 
servility was held to be ennobling duty, and woman's 
shame, when paid as the price of royal favor, was held 
to be no dishonor. 
There is another picture that I like better to look upon, 
the picture of the Virginian Lord Fairfax, the kindly 
country gentleman who devoted his days to the innocent 
pleasures of the chase, and was the benefactor of all with 
whom he came in contact, the philosopher who tore from 
his breast distinction's worthless badge, and giving up 
his title and estates in England to his younger brother 
began a new life, in a new world, among a new race of 
men— njen- wjio were born free men. 
One fine fall morning in 1747 a youth was jogging 
leisurely along a road that wound along a wooded ridge 
in old Virginia, a mere boy of sixteen years, but his 
large and powerful frame, as well as the air of serious 
dignity which was the characteristic expression of his 
strong featured face, gave him the appearance of being 
much older. He had evidently paid a little extra at- 
tention to his toilet that morning. His blue frock, with 
its plate buttons, and his buckskin breeches bore evi- 
dence of having been carefully brushed, and the erect 
figure served to defy them to wrinkle or crease. A 
portmanteau behind his saddle evidenced that he was 
bound upon one of those visits which the gregarious 
gentry of the Old Dominion were so constantly inter- 
changing. His mount testified to the Virginian's pas- 
sion for hoi'ses — a handsome animal, nearly thorough- 
bred, with clean flat legs and feplendid hocks. No young 
gentleman of that day rode abroad upon a cold-blooded 
hack. 
As he rode gravely along, occupied with those deep 
and weighty thoughts which grave young gentlemen just 
out of school feel called upon to ponder, his sober face 
suddenly lit up with boyish fire and enthusiasm, as there 
came borne to his ears through the frosty air the fierce 
melody of hounds in full cry. Through the distant wood- 
lands, which were kindling into flame before the first 
frosts, he could catch the silvery shimmer of water 
where the broad Potomac flowed a mile or more away, 
and he at once divined that the deer would take to the 
river to shake its pursuers, and wheeled his horse's 
head in that direction. But the next moment the cry 
swelling in volume as it approached, showed that the 
hunted animal, contrary to all precedents, was bearing 
away from the river, and clapping spurs to his steed 
he dashed down the road to intercept the chase. 
On came the hounds, with their thrilling melody. 
How he wished for his gun! Pulling his horse to its 
haunches when opposite them, he strove to pierce the 
network of woods through which they were racing 
toward him for the first glimpse of their quarry. . They 
were almost upon him. Through the interlacing limbs 
and leaves he could dimly descry the black, white and 
tan forms of the oncoming dogs. But he looked in vain for 
some startled deer to burst from the brush. Suddenly 
a lithe little form flashed into the road before him, 
and squatting for a moment at sight of him, whisked a 
ruddy plume above its back and dodged back into the 
brush again. The next moment the hounds streamed 
across the road, and on the other side threw up their 
heads at a loss. 
He had but a fleeting glimpse of the little animal, and 
his first impression was that it was a fox, but, as every 
farmer's boy knew, foxes were as gray as a badger. His 
next thought was that they were pursuing some negro's 
little yellow cur, as riotous hounds are notoriously fond 
of doing, and he regretted that he had not whistled to the 
frightened little animal. As the hounds cast back for 
the trail he rated them harshly, endeavoring to turn 
them, but desisted suddenly in this laudable efifort, as 
their irate master came crashing through the woods in 
their wake firing a volley of oaths at the disconcerted 
youth, and demanding to know what he meant by 
interfering with his hounds. He was an old man, but 
the snows of sixty winters upon his head could not bow 
his tall, erect figure. He was mounted upon a powerful 
coal black thoroughbred, 16 hands high, and rode like 
an Indian. A twisted hunting horn was slung over his 
shoulder, and a spare stirrup leather hung round his 
horse's neck. His gray eyes flashed fire, his face was 
purple Avith fury, and he was almost inarticulate with 
rage as he shook his hunting crop at the intruder who 
had spoiled his sport. 
"Ha! Have at him, there, Blueskin!" he exclaimed, 
his anger suddenly vanishing as a favorite hound cast 
back, and striking the trail gave tongue. "Hoic in there, 
my beauties," he cried, cracking his whip at the lag- 
gards. "That's gospel, I warrant you. That's the way 
the fox has gone," and blowing his horn to collect the 
scattered pack, he crammed spurs into his horse and 
dashed past the astonished youth like a shot. 
He had hardly disappeared after the hounds that had 
once more taken up the line, when a newcomer ap- 
peared itpon the scene, a queer little old fellow in a tat- 
tered livery and a scratched nose, from which the blood 
trickled. He touched his hat respectfully with the defer- 
ential manner of an upper servant, and in a broad brogue 
inquired which way "his lordship and the h'unds gan." 
His Lordship! Then this was Lord Fairfax, to visit 
whom at his seat on the Potomac, Belvoir, the youth 
was on his way. He had heard that his lordship was 
"ecentric." He was ready now to testify to the truth of 
the rumor. His mtroduction had not been a very pro- 
pitious one, and he bade adieu to the hopes he had 
treasured of obtaining employment in surveying his 
vast domains beyond the Blue Ridge, which he had un- 
derstood his lordship intended having run off. His as- 
tonishment was increased to find from old Peter, his 
lordship's whipper-in, that it .was a red fox they were 
after. Lord Fairfax having been disgusted with the 
dodging, doubling gray fox, and imported a number of 
the English species to afford better sport. This serious- 
minded young man, for whom Fate had destined such 
heavy responsibilities. Avas not much given to humor 
even as a boy, but the idiosyncrasies of this eccentric 
nobleman, who had occupied such a prominent place in 
European life, daring the fate of Absalom and tearing 
himself to pieces through the brush in pursuit of such 
vermiUj appealed to hiS ^LHiSe bf the fidifchibUSi Han 
a deer been the quarry he could hdVe undefstood it 
but a fox, for which he could hdVe tto Use when caught — 
it surpassed his comprehension; Old Peter was not far 
from agreeing with him. In his native country over^ 
the open downs, with a big field ol lords and ladies taj 
applaud his performance, it was one thing; but here' 
in this God-forsaken wilderness, with logs to fall over' 
and sink holes to fall into, and grapevines to hang uf ", 
it was quite another, as he ruefully confessed, yiWlQ > 
stanching the flow of blood from his nose. 
But suddenly the hounds, which had gone out of 
hearing behind a wooden ridge, swung back toward 
them, and the old whipper-in, forgetful of his injury, 
ir;tood erect in his stirrups, nis weather-beaten face alighti 
with the inspiration of the chase, while his horse pricked 
its ears and whinnied with delight. 
"Dash my vig, but he's a tough un," he exclaimed, 
enthusiastically. "I thought they'd cracked his back, 
but here he comes as fresh as ever — raal Hinglish fox, 
tliat, .A^ye, but there's a grand scent— ivery h'und's at 
him. Just hark to milord," as he could be heard capping 
the hounds on. "Turrible bloody spinney, they're 
comin' through now.. Wouldn't follow milord through 
it ag'in for nothin' under knighthood. Hark to them!" 
he cried, rapturously, as a particularly melodious note was ; 
heard m advance of all the rest. "Whoay, 'oss; whoay, 
I say," to his steed, whose impatience prevented " him 
from listening to the redoubtable Blueskin. "Now, 
fool, vot are you champin' the bit for. He's doubled 
back again!" as the melodious cry ceased. "Hoic back — 
they've overrun tlie scent, or," added he enthusiastically, 
as the sjlence continued unbroken, "mebbe Blueskiifl 
ha' cotch 'im — come an!" and clapping spurs to his. 5 
restive mount he led the way, the youth following out' 
of curiosity, through the woods and across the operei 
to where, on a fallow field, at the edge of a copse, LorJ. ' 
Fairfax was disconsolately sitting his foam-covered I 
steed, while the hounds trotted about utterly at a Joss. ! 
The oaths which he fulminated against his whipper-in- 
as soon as he was within range convinced that menial! 
that his hopes were unfounded. The fox had tricked 
the dogs completely, and disappeared without leaving , 
a trail, possibly by running his back track. Lord ' 
Fairfax had cast up wind and down wind and roimad, 
about wind equally in vain, and was now as chagrined as. 
his dogs were discouraged. It was some relief to curse; 1 
his incompetent whipper-in, swearing he should never 
be allowed to ride to hounds again, that he was a.^ much 
out of place in the hunting field "as a cow in an opera, 
box." Suddenly ceasing this tirade, he appeared for a. 
moment to be listening intently, and then spurred to the 
top of a little hill near by. 
Lord Fairfax was a hunter as well as a rider, and a bet- 
ter never followed hounds. He had the born sportsman's 
intuitive knowledge of his game. He saw and hea-'d 
things that others never noticed. He had heard .i k\U- 
dee with its noisy cry arise from the meadow beyond 
the little hill. All his dogs were around him, having; | 
given up the hunt, and he at once suspicioned ihnt I 
the bird might have been startled by the fox slipping;- 5 
oft through the meadow. j 
For a moment the young surveyor and the old whip- 
per-in saw his lordship standing on the summit of the , 
little hill, an equestrian statue outlined against the blue ( 
autumnal sky. The next moment his hat was in the 
air, and he was wildly waving and shouting, "Gone away! 
Tally ho! Tally ho! Gone away!" 
The late lethargic hounds were galvanized into su<!- 
den action, and streamed away full cry toward their 
master. "Gan away, h'unds! Gan away!" bawled old_j 
Peter, cracking his whip at their vanishing heels and' j 
deluding himself with the idea that he was speeding j 
their departure. Imbued with the excitement that in- 1 
fected man and master, horses and hounds, the young 
surveyor gave reign to his eager mount and joined m 
the chase. Over the hill and down the slope thev swept I 
into the broad meadow like a charge of cavalry, and ' 
the young man found hunself shouting like mad. and ! 
riding with elbows and legs to outpace the old hunte< 
Across the meadow, over a rail fence and into the woods 
they went with the hounds gaining on the fox at every 
jump. Had its protecting shelter been a hundred yards- 
further off they would have bowled him over ere he I 
reached it. But now they were reduced to their noses 
and their niovtths. How they made the woods ringt ' 
The exhilaration of the chase was seething in the boy's. ' 
veins. He understood now why the old lord hunted the 
fox. Such a flight is among heroic feats and fills one with I 
the fire of valor, a keen shivering glee flashes through 
your soul and you feel as if you could fly on forever. 
There is no sensation in all the field of sport to compare 
with it. It was Ajax's first experience in the hunting 
field, as it was his young rider's, but the blood of his 
thoroughbred sires was flowing like fire through his 
veins, and he fairly threw woods and fields behind him 
as he raced after the hounds, while Lord Fairfax's mount 
had been ridden hard and no longer sprang to whip or 
spur, but gave unmistakable signs of satiety, and fell-' 
further and further behind. 
"Come on," roared his lordship, waving his arm fran-', 
tically, as on crossing a road he spied Peter leisurely 
riding it, paralleling the hounds and ready to cut in at 
the first favorable turn in the chase — a proceeding be- 
neath the contempt of straight riding hunters. "Come 
on, you miserable, road-riding blankety-blank! you 
preter-pluperfect tense of humbugs. Come on, and give • 
me that quad. You're a disgrace to a saddle," and dis- 
mounting from his pumped-out moimt he sprang upon 
Peter's much fresher one. Galloping up the road from 
a little rising ground, he caught a view of the chase as ' 
it burst from the woods a quarter of a mile away, the 
young surveyor riding and whooping as hard as ever 
he could, having forced the fox out into the open. ■ 
"How that chap can ride!" he ejaculated, as the youth 
flew the staked and ridered rail, fence, and neatly aiding 
his horse to recover its legs scuttled away with the; 
hounds on the heels of the flying fox, the woods re- 
echoing their deep-toned music. They have run from • 
scent to view, and the fox's moments are numbere.1. 
The hounds, too, are worn with the long chase, and no 
longer press forward in eager jealousy, but each seems; 
settled in his place, and Blueskin retains the lead, which 
is rightly his by virtue of superior speed and endurance, 
I 
