of sporting, wild and varied as are those of Le Morvan, it
would be difficult to withdraw him from its delights, and persuade him
that it is in any way desirable to return to the crowded haunts of men,
and condemn himself to resume the harassing struggle for wealth or a
competence in his own legitimate sphere.

No; there scarcely breathes the human being who could be so insensible
to the charms of scenery like that of Le Morvan as to do so without a
pang. 'Tis a chalice of gold, brimful of real pleasures for those who
love the joys of the open air; 'tis alive with fish and game, and has
its vineyards and its cornfields too.

But we are thinking of the forests only, of the boar--that potentate of
the solitudes--and the wild cat: of the ravines and caves, to which the
hardy and venturous hunter, through bush, brake, or briar, over
streamlet or torrent, will chace the ravenous wolf,--who, bearing the
iron ball in his lacerated side, ever and anon gnaws the wound in his
rage, and slinks on weeping tears of blood. The roebuck and the hare,
the feathered and the finny tribe, are ever presenting an endless
alternation of amusement more or less exciting; and the sportsman has
but to settle with himself, when the rosy morn appears, whether he will
bestride his gallant steed, or throw the rod or rifle over his
shoulder,--his day's pleasure is safe.

It matters not whether the falling leaf announces that the woods are
clearing for him, the deep snow warns him to look to the protection of
his flocks from the dangerous intrusion of the wolves, or the genial air
and the brilliant flies tell him that the silvery tenants of the many
streams and rivers that intersect the forest are ready to provide him
sport.

Arouse thee, sportsman! when the dark clouds of night fly before the
rays of Phoebus as a troop of timid antelopes before the
leopard,--when the lark abandons his mossy bed, and soaring sends forth
his joyous carol,

"----blythe to greet
The purpling East,"

then, O sportsman, up, and to horse! Away! bending over the saddle-bow,
follow the wild deer across the heath--inhale the perfume of the
trampled thyme. Draw bridle for a moment, and pity the thousands of thy
fellow-men to whom the pure air and light are denied, and let thy
heartfelt thanksgivings for thy free and happy lot ascend to the azure
battlements of heaven. Beneath your gaze lie valleys whence rise the
morning mists as do the clouds from the richly-perfum