The New sporting magazine, 4. köide

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Page 341 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more...
Page 46 - Hark ! that halloo is indeed a lucky one. If we can hold him on, we may yet recover him ; for a fox, so much distressed, must stop at last. We now shall see if they will hunt, as well as run ; for there is but little scent, and the impending cloud still makes that little less.
Page 47 - Woodwell-head cover, evidently his point from the first, the pack pulling him down in the middle of a large grass field, every hound but one at his brush. Jack Stevens with him in his hands would be a subject worthy of Edwin Landseer himself ; a blackthorn, which has laid hold of his cheek, has besmeared his upper garments with blood, and one side of his head and cap are cased in mud by a fall he...
Page 47 - I hope,' exclaims Mr. Maxse, to somebody whom he gets a glimpse of through the openings of a tall quickset hedge which is between them, coming neck and croup into the adjoining field, from the top bar of a high, hog-backed stile. His eye might have been spared the unpleasing sight, had not his ear been attracted to a sort of...
Page 42 - How musical their tongues! and as they get nearer to him, how the chorus fills! Hark, he is found! Now, where are all your sorrows, and your cares, ye gloomy souls! or where your pains and aches, ye complaining ones! one halloo has dispelled them all.
Page 45 - Ha ! a check. — Now for a moment's patience. — We press too close upon the hounds. — Huntsman, stand still: as yet they want you not. — How admirably they spread ! how wide they cast! is there a single hound that does not try ? if such a one there be, he ne'er shall hunt again.
Page 48 - You are right," says Colonel Lowther, " they are perfect. I wish my father had seen them do their work to-day." Some of the field now come up, who could not live in the first flight ; but, as there is no jealousy here, they congratulate each other on the fine day's sport, and each man turns his head towards home.
Page 48 - ... but he has ridden the same horse throughout the run, and has handled him so well he could have gone two miles further, if the chase had been continued so long. Osbaldeston's who-hoop might have been heard to Cottesmore, had the wind set in that direction, and every man present is ecstatic with delight. "Quite the cream of the thing, I suppose," says Lord Gardner, a very promising young one, at this time fresh in Leicestershire.
Page 366 - BIRD of the broad and sweeping wing, Thy home is high in heaven, Where wide the storms their banners fling, And the tempest clouds are driven. Thy throne is on the mountain top; Thy fields, the boundless air; And hoary peaks, that proudly prop The skies, thy dwellings are.
Page 180 - Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer's cloud, Without our special wonder?

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