Summary

Mr. Punch in the Hunting Field

They swoop over the fields like a charge of cavalry. But after several hours' hard running a check is at hand: the fox falters, then struggles on again, its tail waving over its head. As its pursuers approach, it rushes up a tree to sit on the topmost branch and crack nuts.
The panting horses arrive—some with their riders still in the saddle, though many, alas! have fallen by the wayside. Next come the hounds, at a long interval—poor Fido, poor Vic, poor Snap! you have done your best to keep up, but the horses have out-distanced you!
Source: Gutenberg

Mr. Punch in the Hunting Field

As he plunges down the ball-room, taking couples in his stride.
'Tis a cropper you'll be coming, but you know your business best,
Still, it's bad to see you romping round with Charlie and the rest;
Now you're dancing with Lord Arthur—sure, he's had enough to dhrink—
And I'm "hanging" all your partners for the wearing of the pink!
Your cruelty ashamed you'll be someday to call to mind,
You'll be glad to ask my pardon, then, for being so unkind,
The hunting men are first, to-night—well, let them have their whack—
You'll be glad to dance with me, someday—when all the coats are black!
Source: Gutenberg

Mr. Punch in the Hunting Field

The huntsman blows his horn, and soon the welkin rings with a chorus of brass instruments; the tufters dash into covert, and anon the cheerful note of Ponto or Gripper gives warning that a warrantable fox is on foot—well, of course, he couldn't be on horseback, but this is merely a venatorial façon de parler. Away go the huntsmen, showing marvellous dexterity in cracking their whips and blowing their horns at the same moment. Last of all come the hounds, trailing after their masters—ah, good dogs, you cannot hope to keep up very far with the swifter-footed horses!
Source: Gutenberg

Get perspective with Kwize: daily news enlightened by great literature