to his superb health and strength. He was truly the son of the general who choked a horse with his knees; it was veritably the father of Porthos who tackled the leader of a crowd which threatened to mob him. "He turned round," says M. Du Chaffault, "seized on the biggest, carried him to the parapet of the bridge as if he'd been a bundle of straw, and cried, 'Beg my pardon, or I'll throw you into the water!'" His confidence rested also on his perfect familiarity with all kinds of weapons. He fenced admirably, and was an excellent shot, as became an ardent sportsman, for in all the pleasures of Dumas's life sport took a commanding place. As a boy we have seen him companion of keepers and poachers; as a man he loved the chase from the spearing of trout by midnight to the hunting of wolves. His travels contain the stories of his own exploits his "Causeries" tell of the triumphs of others; everywhere in his books you may read of some form of la chasse; in one it is Charles IX. chasing the boar, in another Ferdinand of Naples breaking up a Council at the call of his piqueurs.
When wearied of desk-work, or intent on thinking out a new romance or play, Dumas would disappear from Paris for a few days. His old friends at Villers-Cotterets would be rejoiced to see their young friend (he was always "young" to them) walk in unexpectedly one fine day, looking gay and
