A Fox.

BY HIMSELF.

DON'T be alarmed, I am only a fox; it is fashionable to be interviewed, and so here I am, just out of my gorse for a Sunday yawn and a stretch Even foxes have a seventh day holiday, you know. You see I am a full-grown fox, not a bit of a cub. I have seen three summers. Look at my coat; is there one hair on it that does not glisten or is out of place? And is not my brush the picture of a good toilet, so nicely frilled out, and so clean that its white tip would match the snow when it comes. That's muscle, not fat, in my haunches and back; and I can arch my strong neck when I like, and jump five yards, if I am hungry, to catch that unsuspecting rabbit down yonder. And now, Mr. B.-for you see I know you even in your Sunday garb-as you are a good sort, and will promise to put down. exactly what I tell you without any garble, get out your campstool and listen to what I have got to say from behind this gorse bush; for foxes, like young ladies, talk better behind their fans. It is a natural shyness, which we cannot overcome. Well, you know, we are wild animals, and I suppose it is true that we only exist in this country by the will of man. He likes us; at least, the majority of those strong enough to protect us do, or we should long ago have followed the wolf, the polecat, the marten cat, the eagle, the kite, and big hawk into another existence. Perhaps our time also is short; but more of that anon-vive hodie is my motto-and I do my best to live up to it. It seems an age since I enjoyed the romps of a cub, and now I despise their amusements. Rough usage, and many a fight for my life, hairbreadth escapes, adventures light, and dangers more serious, have told their tale, only to make me what you see me-a fox that knows his way about, and never hesitates when danger threatens.

To tell the truth, I am not a native here. I was born far up in yonder hills, and this accounts for much of my length of limb and fleetness. Many a long mile have I strolled after a scanty supper; and much have I been a gainer by it since, for I escaped the worry of being hunted when I was a cub, when I could easily have been caught and eaten, and I learned much of the ways of my enemies, without being seriously frightened by them. When, however, I found, at the last spring conclave on High Tree Hill, how much more society there was down in these lower countries, and what snug abodes were provided for us (like this one), and when my own particular lovely vixen had tempted me to stay through the summer here, and help her to provision our family larder, I gave up my old haunts,

and established this one as headquarters; but there is Hollywood Coppice, three miles away, which I like very much, and I have several pretty comfortable dry drains that I have occasionally to take to.

Now that cub-hunting is over I have to look alive. While they are trying to catch my poor little offspring, it is such fun to slip off in a jiffy; and Will, the first whip, seemed, the other day, to touch his cap quite politely to me, but there was a leer in his eye, as much as to say, "I shall know you again, my fine fellow!" And, confound him, he did last Tuesday was a week, for he holloaed the hounds on to me pretty quick, and it took me all my time to gain Hollywood Coppice two fields in front of them; as it was, in my hurry, I ran plump up to some turnip pullers, who set up no end of a yell, but I think, on the whole, I gained by it, as hounds seemed bothered, and did not press me so hard afterwards. Once in Hollywood Coppice, I knew there was a stout little cub that had saved his jacket from being torn a few days before, and he did not require much persuasion to be off across the ride, where the second whip had just stationed himself, and, with a shrill tally-ho, proclaimed the hunted fox forward, while I slipped quickly back here when all was quiet. It was lucky for me that Will, the first whip, had had a fall (as I afterwards heard), and could not be in his place, or he would never have mistaken that cub for me, after I had more than once whisked my whitetagged brush in his face.

We poor foxes have more awkward impediments put in our way every season; for instance, wire netting round a covert is a balking thing, when you are in a hurry. It cost the life of the most promising cub in our litter this season, tumbling him over, and before he could recover himself an old hound had knocked him into the ditch, and it was soon all over with him. I have hated the smell of that place ever since. In fact, I had to give up a very snug gorse last season, because they caught a poor lame beggar in it, and then and there tore him to atoms; and, oh! it smelt of his blood for weeks. Then, again, I came the other day upon a nasty red painted board, close to a fence, which in my fright I made a jump from, and in getting through I scratched my back against something quite sharp. Talking this over with an old friend at the coppice one night, "Don't you know," he said, "that's barbed wire? That self-same place I believe saved my life the other day. The hounds had run me very hard nearly all on grass for half an hour, when I turned towards the village, where I know of a drain. Through that very fence close to the brook I went, more dead than alive, and up to the drain, which, alas! was stopped. I lay me down in a fence hard by, quite resigned to my fate, when all of a sudden hounds seemed to stop. There was a terrible commotion, somebody (the huntsman, I think) was picked up

nearly dead, and the hounds were stopped before they reached my hiding place. Confound that infernal barbed wire,' said the first whip, 'we should have had him in another five minutes, my beauties.' Then up came the master. Will, take the hounds home, and send for the doctor for poor Sam. There's Squire Straightgoer nearly killed, and his horse with a broken leg. This wire is a death-blow to hunting. I shall send in my resignation to-night.' Good news that," added my old friend; but as I lay in my kennel the next day I came to an opposite conclusion. Thought I to myself, whoever puts up that wire cannot be a friend to foxes any more than to hunters. I'll be bound for it he will set traps, and, perhaps, what's worse, poison. Once drive away the hunters, and it's scant mercy we old foxes, and young 'uns too, would get. No, old friend, that wire saved your life to-day, and scratched my back; but the master is right, it's a curse to hunting. And what should we be if the hunters disappeared, and Squire Steeltrap and his Fustian had the ruling of us? Why, the first bit of stale rabbit I ate would lay me as stiff as a crutch. Yes, and haven't I seen plenty taken that way? I could tell the hunting gentlemen, if I could interview them, as I am doing you, many things that go on under their noses, or rather under mine, that they know nothing of. Oh, what a number of graves there are in that bit of over-gamed park yonder-some shot, some poisoned, and the trapped ones kept to turn out when the hounds come, and the fine owner and daughters are riding about, and pretending to enjoy the sport. Catch me near such tainted grounds; not a bit of it! The only wonder is that as many of us live as do, to wave our brushes like I do-vive hodie, that's my motto. And now I mean to tell you about a very adventurous day, when I barely escaped with my life; but it was a fair game. They gave me a chance, and I saved my brush; that's more than old Fustian would have done had I fallen into his hands. Ah, old Governor is a good hound; but he hasn't bitten me yet.

It was early in February, we had been having high jinks over at the coppice the night before, and I did not get home until morning began to peep, so that my nose was no sooner curled into my brush than I was fast asleep. Usually the first gate that swung near the gorse put me on the qui viveto-day I was caught napping. Sam's "Hien!-in there, good hounds!" was the first sound that awoke me. I own to having felt stiff and lazy, and I knew that my old tactics of being away at the lower corner by the hedge-side before Will could be there to view me, was of no avail to-day. I knew also that all my younger friends had stopped at the coppice that night, and that I was alone. A sudden resolve took me that I would break cover at the top, and slip across the lane. There were two or three ploughed fields there, and I could creep down the

furrows and get a start. There was only one field between the covert and the lane, and I knew, by the buzz of tongues, that the field of horsemen were gathered on the right. Not a hound had opened on my line as I crossed the field, only to meet in the lane at least a dozen grooms on second horses. It was the work of a moment to pop back, but ere I could regain the covert the leading hound was coming out within ten yards of me; he did not view me, but I had to lie in the fence while, in hot haste, the whole pack flew past. Now was my time. Will would have heard the halloa in the lane. His post would be deserted. I made all haste, and was away at my old spot before the hounds could swing back into covert. This gave me a good start and a strong heart. There was yet an enemy I had not reckoned with. It was Jack, the shepherd's son; I knew his shrill little voice as it shouted, perched up in a tree. Nor had I reckoned on such a scent as there was to-day. Sam seemed possessed of a demoniacal fury. His horn came ringing after me down wind, and I knew it was a race for life.

Every field was familiar to me, and every meuse was my own. My point was Hollywood Coppice, but I had to make a half circle of about four miles to reach it. Very few roads intervened, and scarcely a homestead. Thick thorny fences they were, but I knew that I had the advantage here over the hounds. Still, do what I would, that morning it seemed that each hound's voice rang out clearer and clearer, closer to my brush, and I could distinctly hear the crash of hedges, as the leading horsemen came tearing along in my rear. When within two fields of the coppice, where I knew several of my comrades of last night were quietly reposing, as ill fate would have it, an excited man with a dog came before me, driving me to the right. Not to be deterred from reaching my haven, I tried again my point to the left, when, as I approached the green lane that bounded the wood on that side, I found, to my horror, that it was full of galloping horsemen, who had evidently designed my intent, and were determined to be there first. For a moment I hesitated. To thus face his foes is seldom a fox's tactics, and yet how often since have I thought that it would have been better to have been kicked almost to death by those wild horses than to have incurred the dangers I afterwards met with. My hesitation almost brought the hounds into the same field with me. I still felt perfectly strong and confident in my own powers. All the morning's stiffness had worn off, and my resolve was taken. I would try my luck down over the Melbury Vale, and thus shake off their cruel intentions. In full view of that steaming crowd of our proudest sportsmen, I waved my brush to them as I turned away into fresh pastures, dropping down gradually into lower ground (for Hollywood Coppice lay on the crest of high ground overlooking a wide

green valley to the south). A bit of ploughed land here and there seemed to check the ardour of my pursuers, but it was only momentarily; on they came, as I tore away over the broad pastures, unheeding where or how I went-now dashing into a muddy and deep-banked brook, and scrambling up the opposite side, then crossing a railway, where a party of workmen unceremoniously shouted after me; but, still strong of purpose, and wild with fear and excitement, I kept my head straight for the rising ground, which foxes from our side the country seldom visited, but which, I had a latent hope, would afford me some sort of shelter. But I must not weary you with too long a story. The rising ground was crossed without one spinney being there to afford a moment's hiding-place, and, indeed, had it been there I should, in my present heated and fast becoming jaded state, have been obliged to avoid it. Down again, with broader meadows and larger fences to be crossed. My heart began to fail me. Twice I threaded the thickest fence, and twice I rosolved to lie down and face my end. At last, before me was a big broad river. I might have jumped in and swam across it, but my instinct gave me a new resolve. Slipping quietly in, I swam down as far as I could without crossing, and then crawled under some stubbs on the same side that I had started. Oh, those minutes seemed hours while I lay watching the result of my tactics upon my enemies. At full cry they came to the river bank, and in they dashed, swimming like demons in full cry over to the other side, while after them, struggling, splashing, and swimming, went the huntsman and two other ardent spirits. The rest went off, some one way, and some another, to find drier or more convenient places of crossing. It seemed as if all had gone; but the sequel proved that I was wrong. Of course my scent was wanting on the other side, and away went the huntsman, casting in every direction. I was becoming so stiff and cold under my stubb that I thought it best to make a move, and cautiously I crept up the bank, and so under a hedge pointing at right angles to the river, meaning to lie up quietly in the best hedgerow I could find, quite safe now, as I thought. Oh, cruel fate! there was Will of the eagle eye contemplating me from the other side of the field, and momentarily giving one of his most fiendish shrieks, that I knew would soon bring the hounds on my scent! What could I do now but make the best of the little start that I had? Struggle on I did; but my limbs refused to spring with me. I felt the weakness of despair as on I rolled, not ran, up one field and down the next. Again that bitter cry came on; again the hedges and rails crashed, and both Sam and Will cheered and shouted like demons.

One more field and it would have been my last, when-could it be true?—there was a drain, close to the ditch. Should I try it? What else could I do? So in I went, just as old Governor and