SHAKESPEAllt-A FOX HUNTER. 
639 
skeleton. On careful examination of the brain with a neigh¬ 
bouring surgeon, who kindly lent me his assistance, the follow¬ 
ing morbid appearances presented themselves: — Upon the re¬ 
moval of the cranial bones the dura-mater appeared perfectly 
healthy, so did the substance of the brain ; but upon slicing it 
away to the left lateral ventricle, a small quantity of fluid and 
lymph were found. The plexus choroides was rather enlarged, and 
there were seen a quantity of fluid, and a small tumour the size 
of half a small bean, and about that shape, of a dirty brown 
colour, and of a moderately . firm consistence The brain, just 
where the olfactory nerves are given oflT, was of a very soft pulpy 
consistence; but nothing else was found to account for the dis¬ 
ease and its fatal termination. 
SHAKESPEARE—A FOXHUNTER. 
jPy a Hunting Vet. 
So, gentlemen, a very clever and amusing writer in the ^‘New 
Sporting Magazine,” under the assumed name of Paddy Blake, 
has endeavoured to prove our immortal bard to have been. The 
adventure in Sir Thomas Lucy’s park, which compelled him 
to leave Stratford, he properly considers as one of the wild 
pranks of youth, and into which an innate love of mischief and 
danger, but no idea of plunder or gain, had led him : but he 
maintains that, previous to this, he was and must have been a 
fox-hunter. 
His proof is merely presumptive ; but I confess that it is strong, 
and, in my mind, conclusive. He refers to one of Shakespeare’s 
minor poems, ‘‘Venus and Adonis,” and he quotes a descrip¬ 
tion of the wiles of the hare, which I fear you may not insert, 
from want of space, and because it does not quite come within 
the scope of your work ; and yet I will answer, that no reader 
will find fault. 
But if tliou needs will hunt, be ruled by me. 
Uncouple at the timorous flying hare; 
Or at the fox which lives by subtlety; 
Or at the roe, which no encounter dare. 
Pursue these fearful creatures o'er the downs, 
And on ihy well-breathed \\qv&g keep with thy hounds. 
And when thou hast on foot the purblind hare, 
Mark the poor wretch ; to overshoot his troubles, 
How he outruns the wind, and with what care 
He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles. 
The many miisits through the vvhich he goes 
Arc like a labyrinth t’auiazc his foes. 
