"So the route is all laid out? and how does the fox—it is a fox?—well, how does he understand that he must follow the scent of the herring? Does your system of compulsory education extend to the members of the animal kingdom?"
"Do not be satirical, Mr. Larkington. Of course, the whole thing sounds very absurd to you; but as we have no foxes in this neighborhood, we import the poor little beasts. The fox is conveyed in a leathern bag to a certain spot agreed upon, and when we have all begun to think that herring scent is a poor sort of game, out springs Mr. Reynard a field beyond, and we all take heart,—hounds, horses, and riders,—and plunge after him with renewed ardor. If the fox part of it is a sham, I can say more for the riding. Newport is the roughest country I have ever hunted in. Have you your horse with you?"
"Yes, I bought a couple of hunters in New York; they arrived yesterday, and I
