d, who imagined he had
found a mine of wealth on discovering on a remote side-hill, between
two woods, a dead porker, upon which it appeared all the foxes of
the neighborhood had nightly banqueted. The clouds were burdened
with snow; and as the first flakes commenced to eddy down, he set
out, trap and broom in hand, already counting over in imagination
the silver quarters he would receive for his first fox-skin. With
the utmost care, and with a palpitating heart, he removed enough of
the trodden snow to allow the trap to sink below the surface. Then,
carefully sifting the light element over it and sweeping his tracks
full, he quickly withdrew, laughing exultingly over the little
surprise he had prepared for the cunning rogue. The elements
conspired to aid him, and the falling snow rapidly obliterated all
vestiges of his work. The next morning at dawn he was on his way to
bring in his fur. The snow had done its work effectually, and, he
believed, had kept his secret well. Arrived in sight of the
locality, he strained his vision to make out his prize lodged
against the fence at the foot of the hill. Approaching nearer, the
surface was unbroken, and doubt usurped the place of certainty in
his mind. A slight mound marked the site of the porker, but there
was no footprint near it. Looking up the hill, he saw where Reynard
had walked leisurely down toward his wonted bacon till within a few
yards of it, when he had wheeled, and with prodigious strides
disappeared in the woods. The young trapper saw at a glance what a
comment this was upon his skill in the art, and, indignantly
exhuming the iron, he walked home with it, the stream of silver
quarters suddenly setting in another direction.

The successful trapper commences in the fall, or before the first
deep snow. In a field not too remote, with an old axe he cuts a
small place, say ten inches by fourteen, in the frozen ground, and
removes the earth to the depth of three or four inches, then fills
the cavity with dry ashes, in which are placed bits of roasted
cheese. Reynard is very suspicious at first, and gives the place a
wide berth. It looks like design, and he will see how the thing
behaves before he approaches too near. But the cheese is savory and
the cold severe. He ventures a little closer every night, until he
can reach and pick a piece from the surface. Emboldened by success,
like other mortals, he presently digs freely among the ashes, and,
finding a fresh supply