with her crop. ‘Guess I’d have to get up early, across the pond, to hear such language as yours in the pony-chase this morning.’
The American accompanied them to the vicarage to stay that night. As the family party sat at dessert, talking over the events of the day, the vicar remarked,—
‘By the way, Lesbie, about your scruples against being accessory to the death of a fox, the answer to them is obvious. Foxes owe their lives and their enjoyments of life entirely to the practice of fox-hunting, for which they are preserved. Put a stop to that sport, and within a year foxes will be as scarce in England as wolves. A price will be set on their heads by farmers, game-keepers, and poultry breeders, and they will be shot, trapped, and poisoned out of hand. Is that a better fate than the prospect of being occasionally chased during the winter months and perhaps caught at last? If I were a fox, I should notthink so. I should be only too glad to compound for my life and liberty on such easy terms. No; if you like to take up other grounds of objection against fox-hunting, they may be debateable. For instance, it might be questioned whether the sport be worth the destruction of edible animals which foxes prey on. Or farmers may change their mind and not care to have their fences broken and their fields trampled by the hunt, or they may conceive a grudge against the country gentry, and thence discourage the sport. Or various social causes, like those which have prevented the sport from taking root on the Continent, may operate against its continuance here. All these may be open questions, but I think it must be clear to you, Lesbie, that arguments against fox-hunting on the ground of cruelty to animals will not hold water.’
‘I see,’ his niece replied; ‘you have relieved my conscience, Uncle Spines. I certainly should have been sorry not to go out again, now that I have made a good beginning.
