THE FOXHOUND
On the straightest of legs, and the roundest of feet.
With ribs like a frigate his timbers to meet,
With a fashion and fling and a form so complete,
That to see him dance over the flags is a treat.
AS fine a picture of the ideal foxhound as one could wish to put in print is conveyed by these words of Whyte Melville, although the further reminder is necessary that fashion and form without nose are in vain. The handsomest hound in the world is a sorry impostor if he will not own to the line when scent is light. Fox hunting is the essence of sport. There is nothing that can equal it, looking at it all round. Big game shooting has its excitements and hair breadth adventures, pig sticking in India, and hunting the wild boar in France are recreations fit for men, but when we come to consider the innumerable qualifications necessary to make a good follower of hounds the palm must be assigned to fox hunting. In the words of the immortal Mr. Jorrocks: "'Unting is the sport of kings, the image of war without its guilt, and only five-and-twenty per cent, of its danger! In that word "'unting,' wot a
