The fox is a travelling animal. Knowing well that
"home-staying youths have ever homely wits," he goes out and sees the
world. He is either born in the woodlands, or wanders thither in his
early youth. If all foxes so wandering be doomed to death, if poison,
and wires, and traps, and hostile keepers await them there instead
of the tender welcome of the loving fox-preserver, the gorse coverts
will soon be empty, and the whole country will be afflicted with a
wild dismay. All which Lord Chiltern understood well when he became
so loud in his complaint against the Duke.
But our dear old friend, only the other day a duke, Planty Pall as he
was lately called, devoted to work and to Parliament, an unselfish,
friendly, wise man, who by no means wanted other men to cut their
coats according to his pattern, was the last man in England to put
himself forward as the enemy of an established delight. He did not
hunt himself,--but neither did he shoot, or fish, or play cards. He
recreated himself with Blue Books, and speculations on Adam Smith had
been his distraction;--but he knew that he was himself peculiar, and
he respected the habits of others.
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