as we wunt forgit in a hurry; 'twas desprit work. But tins 'ere bit o' business sets that aside clean. Jim! what are ye sniggerin' about? what's in the wind now, ticklin' yer fancy that way?"
"Oh, nuthin' pertickler. Is Ginger an' Nipper quiet?"
"No, they ain't; I thinks as they'd like ter fall foul o' that 'ere sack."
"Well, I dessay they wud; fur this 'ere warmint has cum round agin', an' is tearing n' scratchin' like mad. It do take a lot to wind a badger's cloc up, that it do!"
"Jim, when we've sin to the dogs, you come up an' hev a pint o' the best cider."
English Fox.
The Fox.—I feel it almost presumptuous on my part to say anything about that wonderful animal, the fox—so much has been written and said about him, both by sportsmen and some of the greatest of our literary geniuses. My account of him will be brief; not having the fox-hunter's feeling of veneration for him, nor the hatred natural to the poultry-keeper, my views will at any rate not be one-sided. Nor have I ever had the least wish to possess Master Reynard embalmed as a mummy, or to see the wily gentleman in a glass case, lean and hungry-looking, with squinting cunning in his eye. He is known to me as a clean, swift, strong, and handsome creature, full of courage. He is also universally credited with a very large amount of intellectual power, although it is always said to be employed exclusively for his own benefit. To call an individual of the human family an old fox is certainly not a compliment, for it implies that he is crafty and selfish.
His usual length is four feet, but he varies in size according to food and locality. In the Highlands of Scotland he is almost like a wolf in size and strength; and he is not regarded in the same light as in England, for he is shot down without the least compunction there. The proper place to see all wild animals to
