of the huntsman's horn, except perhaps that of the hunted fox or
stag. The love of hunting seems ingrained in every Englishman, and
whenever the horsemen appear in sight, or the "music" of the hounds
is heard in the distance, the spade is laid aside, the ploughman
leaves his team, the coachman his stables, the gardener his
greenhouses, books are closed, and every one rushes away to see the
sport. The squire, the farmers, and every one who by hook or by
crook can procure a mount, join in the merry chase, for as an old
poet sings--

"The hunt is up, the hunt is up,
Sing merrily we, the hunt is up;
The birds they sing,
The deer they fling:
Hey, nony, nony-no:
The hounds they cry,
The hunters they fly,
Hey trolilo, trolilo,
The hunt is up."

We English folks come of a very sporting family. The ancient Britons
were expert hunters, and lived chiefly on the prey which they
killed. Our Saxon forefathers loved the chase, and in some very old
Saxon pictures illustrating the occupations of each month we see the
lord, attended by his huntsmen, chasing the wild boars in the woods
and forests. The Saxon king, Edgar, imposed a tribute of wolves'
heads, and Athelstan ordered the payment of fines in hawks and
strong-scented dogs. Edward the Confessor, too, who scorned worldly
amusements, used to take "delight in following a pack of swift dogs,
and in cheering them with his voice." The illustration is taken from