REPARATORY to the enjoyment of fox hunting, the business of the earth-stopper is of the greatest importance; as, without due care in the performance of his duty, a good run cannot be obtained. His occupation, indeed, is not one of the most agreeable description, and the extent of his labour is little known; yet, in producing good sport, he is an essential agent. For the purpose of effecting the preparatory duty of earth-stopping, the manager of the hounds applies, at the commencement of the season, to the keeper, who sometimes fulfils the duties of the office himself, or he engages a substitute, generally an agricultural labourer upon whom the fullest reliance can be placed. The keeper receives a small salary; and must be diligent in his attention that the earths are properly stopped, and at the proper time, and opened on the following afternoon or evening. Previous to a day's hunting, intimation is conveyed to the earth-stopper, by one of the whips, that the earths must be stopped on a certain night,—the one immediately preceding the day when the hounds are expected. The foxes generally leave their earths about ten o'clock at night, in pursuit of food. If, however, the weather be extremely boisterous and stormy, they will not leave the earths. Foxes will travel to a great distance if game be scarce in their own neighbourhood. The hen-roosts of the farmer are then often visited, as well as the out-houses where ducks and geese are kept; and if they have been left in an insecure state, a rich booty is obtained; for an old fox, like your ancient alderman, has no objection to a goose or a turkey at Christmas. If, however, game is plentiful— and, in that case, he evinces his superior judgment— he flies to that in preference. Foxes will not trouble themselves much about hares, if rabbits be plentiful; but they seldom return home without a supply of some description, particularly when they have cubs. Even before sunset, they are extremely bold if pressed by hunger, and have been known to seize fowls belonging to the farm in the immediate neighbourhood of a cover. The natural gorse, no doubt, forms the best fox cover; but, as Mr. Blaine observes, it is slow of growth, and does not suit all soils. He therefore recommends Mr. Cradock's plan, of forming artificial covers where there is a deficiency of gorse; for which purpose, a piece of dry land, lying well to the sun, and from two to three acres in extent, should be fixed upon. Here, some very strong black-thorns are stuck into the ground, and plashed, and laid down within about two feet of the surface. In a very short time, if the land is strong, the thorns will be almost hidden by grass and weeds, and the foxes will make their runs and kennels under them. About eleven o'clock at night, the earth-stopper leaves his cottage, wrapped snugly in an old great coat, and provided with a spade and lantern. Thus equipped, he sallies forth, and takes the nearest direction to the covers. Unlike Puck, the "merry wanderer of the night," he enters the wood with great caution, and "treads softly that the blind mole may not hear a foot fall," lest Reynard, who is remarkably quick of hearing, should mark his approach, and return, as he would do, to the earths before he arrives. This occupation is not unattended with much inconvenience and some danger; for he must go out at the proper time, whatever the state of the weather; and he is liable to be assaulted by poachers, who can mark his approach by the light he carries. In order to avoid an attack of this nature, a dark lantern, with the shade turned, is sometimes used, until he enters on the intricate paths of the wood. The earth-stopper must be possessed of nerve and fortitude. There is something extremely solemn in entering a large wood at the "witching time of night, when churchyards yawn." The winds, whistling through the leafless branches, utter an awful dirge; or breathe, through a mass of Scotch firs, a low, hollow, and sepulchral moan. As he proceeds, he hears now and then a rustle among the underwood; but he is not startled by the sound, knowing that the noise is made. by hares and rabbits, alarmed at his approach; and as, with the assistance of his light, he threads the intricacies of the dense mass, his ear is often assailed by mysterious noises, by the "Ho-ho-hoo-o! Ho-ho-hoo-o!" of the owls,-a sound not very musical at that time of night, and calculated to startle the unaccustomed ear; |