File:Nature and sport in Britain (1904) (14564950708).jpg

Identifier: naturesportinbri00bryd (find matches)
Title: Nature and sport in Britain
Year: 1904 (1900s)
Authors: Bryden, H. A. (Henry Anderson), 1854-1937
Subjects: Horses Game and game-birds Hunting
Publisher: London : G. Richards
Contributing Library: Webster Family Library of Veterinary Medicine
Digitizing Sponsor: Tufts University

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two of the Princess of Waless ladies—(maidsof honour were called Mrs. then by courtesy)—justin from hunting : To eat Westphalia ham of a morn-ing, ride over hedges and ditches on borrowed hacks,come home in the heat of the day with a fever, and(what is worse a hundred times) with a red mark on theforehead from an uneasy hat—all this may qualify themto make excellent wives for hunters. Ah, Mr. Pope !insinuating little Mr. Pope ! yourself no lover of honestfield sports, one sees how you obtained these con-fidences from the feminine side. Miss Lepell walkedwith me three or four hours by moonlight, and we metno creature of any quality but the King, who gaveaudience to the Vice-Chamberlain all alone under thegarden wall. The blown stag has measured half the forest, andvisibly tires. He soils (i.e. takes to water), and finallyis set up at bay, and then, astonishing to narrate, atthe Kings command the hounds are called off and thebeaten hart is allowed to depart in peace. Somervile 216
Text Appearing After Image:
< H -o O I K I X M <J THE FATHER OF MODERN HUNTING no doubt had warrant for this episode, but one fanciesthat George H. was not often thus wont to balk hishunt of their hardly earned kill. From the royal chase Somervile passes to houndbreeding, and the walking and entering of the puppies,winding up his fourth and last book with a mostspirited and exact account of an otter-hunt. It is mani-fest that he must have been especially fond of thispastime, as he was of hare-hunting. His descriptionsof the amphibious chase are unmatched; there aremany beautiful pictures in this part of the poem, andthe last scene is thus described : Again he vents ;Again the crowd attack. That spear has piercedHis neck : the crimson waves confess the wound.Fixd is the bearded lance, unwelcome guest,Whereer he flies : with him it sinks beneath,With him it mounts, sure guide to every foe. Lo ! to yon sedgy bankHe creeps disconsolate : his numrous foesSurround him, hounds and men. Piercd thro

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