illage, with what intense delight the whole population turn
out! Young mothers stand at the doors, holding up their crowing babies;
the shopkeeper, with his customers, adjourns to the street; the windows
of the school are covered with flattened noses; the parson, if of the
right sort, smiles blandly, and waves his hand from the porch of the
vicarage to half-a-dozen friends; while the surgeon pushes on his
galloway and joins for half-an-hour; all the little boys holla in
chorus, and run on to open gates without expecting sixpence. As for the
farmers, those who do not join the hunt criticise the horseflesh,
speculate on the probable price of oats, and tell 'Missis' to set out
the big round of beef, the bread, the cheese, and get ready to draw some
strong ale,--'in case of a check, some of the gentlemen might like a bit
as they come back.

"It is true, among the five thousand who follow the hounds daily in the
hunting season, there are to be found, as among most medleys of five
thousand, a certain number of fools and brutes--mere animals, deaf to
the music, blind to the living poetry of nature. To such men hunting is
a piece of fashion or vulgar excitement, but bring hunting in comparison
with other amusements, and it will stand a severe test. Are you an
admirer of scenery, an amateur or artist? Have you traversed Greece and
Italy, Switzerland and Norway, in search of the picturesque? You do not
know the beauties of your own country, until, having hunted from
Northumberland to Cornwall, you have viewed the various counties under
the three aspects of a fox-hunter's day--the 'morning ride,' 'the run,'
and 'the return home.'

"The morning ride, slowly pacing, full of expectation, your horse as
pleased as yourself; sharp and clear in the gray atmosphere the leafless
trees and white farmhouses stand out, backed by a curtain of mist
hanging on the hills in the horizon. With eager eyes you take all in;
nothing escapes you; you have cast off care for the day. How pleasant
and cheerful everything and everyone looks! Even the cocks and hens,
scratching by the road-side, have a friendly air. The turnpike-man
relaxes, in favour of your 'pink,' his usual grimness. A tramping woman,
with one child at her back and two running beside her, asks charity; you
suspect she is an impostor, but she looks cold and pitiful; you give her
a shilling, and the next day you don't regret your foolish benevolence.
To your mind the well-cultivated land l