as the wind.

The wild, buoyant creature, how beautiful he is! I had often seen his
dead carcase, and, at a distance, had witnessed the hounds drive him
across the upper fields; but the thrill and excitement of meeting him in
his wild freedom in the woods were unknown to me, till, one cold winter
day, drawn thither by the baying of a hound, I stood far up toward the
mountain's brow, waiting a renewal of the sound, that I might determine
the course of the dog and choose my position,--stimulated by the
ambition of all young Nimrods, to bag some notable game. Long I waited,
and patiently, till, chilled and benumbed, I was about to turn back,
when, hearing a slight noise, I looked up and beheld a most superb fox,
loping along with inimitable grace and ease, evidently disturbed, but
not pursued by the hound, and so absorbed in his private meditations
that he failed to see me, though I stood transfixed with amazement and
admiration not ten yards distant. I took his measure at a glance,--a
large male, with dark legs, and massive tail tipped with white,--a most
magnificent creature; but so astonished and fascinated was I by his
sudden appearance and matchless beauty, that not till I had caught the
last glimpse of him, as he disappeared over a knoll, did I awake to my
position as a sportsman, and realize what an opportunity to distinguish
myself I had unconsciously let slip. I clutched my gun, half angrily, as
if it was to blame, and went home out of humor with myself and all
fox-kind. But I have since thought better of the experience, and
concluded that I bagged the game after all, the best part of it, and
fleeced Reynard of something more valuable than his fur without his
knowledge.

This is thoroughly a winter sound,--this voice of the hound upon the
mountain,--and one that is music to many ears. The long, trumpet-like
bay, heard for a mile or more,--now faintly back in the deep recesses of
the mountain,--now distinct, but still faint, as the hound comes over
some prominent point, and the wind favors,--anon entirely lost in the
gully,--then breaking out again much nearer, and growing more and more
pronounced as the dog approaches, till, when he comes around the brow of
the mountain, directly above you, the barking is loud and sharp. On he
goes along the northern spur, his voice rising and sinking, as the wind
and lay of the ground modify it, till lost to hearing.

The fox usually keeps half a mile ahead, regulating his spee