680 
REVIEW — THE HUNTING FIELD. 
for jack-boots to save his pantaloons, to know, whenever the in- 
spiring moment of a “ find” or a “ turn out” or a “ see-ho” shall 
arrive, when to ride, and where to ride, and how to ride, must be 
something consolatory at such a critical time ; then how much more 
must such knowledge be desired by the uninitiated but aspiring 
tyro, ardent with all love for the chace, and eager to enter into the 
fullest enjoyments of it! 
It has been said, speaking of fox-hunting, even by fox-hunters 
themselves, that while no sport can equal it in the ecstasy of en- 
joyment it creates, as a subject for the pen few are less excitive of 
interest. We are not going to tax this remark with being devoid 
of truth. We know too well ourselves, how little comparative 
gratification we derive, in general, from accounts in the public 
prints of long runs and hair-breadth escapes over awful countries, 
and so forth. But let us ask any hunting man — any man who 
is by love and profession a fox-hunter — whether, when he first 
read that part of the work of that king of writers on hunting 
— Beckford — wherein he describes the chase, there were not 
moments when he could fancy himself actually in the field , finding, 
and running , and hark- forwarding and view- hollowing, and 
screaming and whoo-whooping , with all but all the enthusiasm the 
reality itself would have inspired him with. Why, such a chap- 
ter as Beckford has penned on the chase is enough to raise the 
gouty fox-hunter upright in his bed and make the octogenarian 
forget his years ! It is the man who has never been a hunting, 
the man devoid of all taste for hunting, the pseudo hunter alone, 
that could fail to feel the highest pleasure in the perusal of Beck- 
ford’s work. Nor do we anticipate that any feelings save such 
pleasurable and approving ones will arise in the mind of the 
reader of the following extract from the work before us ; indeed, 
should he who reads be himself a fox-hunter — and most of our 
craft are, or ought to be, genuine ones — -we bespeak at once for 
our friend Harry commendation for every line of the following 
vivid picture of a bit of true sport, representing moments when, 
besides riding himself, he was engaged in playing, ever and anon, 
the part of Mentor to his Telemachus in the field. 
Time and opportunity now serving for a day’s fox-hunting at a 
“ regular fixture,” Harry, under the guise of enjoying the pleasure 
