shot went off, and I killed fifty brace of
ducks, twenty widgeons, and three couple of teals. Presence of mind is
the soul of manly exercises. If soldiers and sailors owe to it many of
their lucky escapes, hunters and sportsmen are not less beholden to it
for many of their successes. In a noble forest in Russia I met a fine
black fox, whose valuable skin it would have been a pity to tear by ball
or shot. Reynard stood close to a tree. In a twinkling I took out my
ball, and placed a good spike-nail in its room, fired, and hit him so
cleverly that I nailed his brush fast to the tree. I now went up to him,
took out my hanger, gave him a cross-cut over the face, laid hold of my
whip, and fairly flogged him out of his fine skin.
Chance and good luck often correct our mistakes; of this I had a
singular instance soon after, when, in the depth of a forest, I saw a
wild pig and sow running close behind each other. My ball had missed
them, yet the foremost pig only ran away, and the sow stood motionless,
as fixed to the ground. On examining into the matter, I found the latter
one to be an old sow, blind with age, which had taken hold of her pig’s
tail, in order to be led along by filial duty. My ball, having passed
between the two, had cut his leading-string, which the old sow continued
to hold in her mouth; and as her former guide did not draw her on
any longer, she had stopped of course; I therefore laid hold of the
remaining end of the pig’s tail, and led the old beast home without any
further trouble on my part, and without any reluctance or apprehension
on the part of the helpless old animal.
Terrible as these wild sows are, yet more fierce and dangerous are
the boars, one of which I had once the misfortune to meet in a forest,
unprepared for attack or defence. I retired behind an oak-tree just when
the furious animal levelled a side-blow at me, with such force, that his
tusks pierced through the tree, by which means he could neither repeat
the blow nor retire. Ho, ho! thought I, I shall soon have you now! and
immediately I laid hold of a stone, wherewith I hammered and bent his
tusks in such a manner, that he could not retreat by any means, and must
wait my return from the next village, whither I went for ropes and a
cart, to secure him properly, and to carry him off safe and alive, in
which I perfectly succeeded.
CHAPTER IV
_Reflections on Saint Hubert’s stag – Shoots a stag with cherry-stones;
the wonderful effects of it – Kills a bear by extraordinary dexterity;
his danger pathetically described – Attacked by a wolf, which he turns
inside out – Is assailed by a mad dog, from which he escapes – The Baron’s
cloak seized with madness, by which his whole wardrobe is thrown into
confusion._
You have heard, I dare say, of the hunter and sportsman’s saint and
protector, St. Hubert, and of the noble stag, which appeared to him
in the forest, with the holy cross between his antlers. I have paid my
homage to that saint every year in good fellowship, and seen this stag a
thousand times, either painted in churches, or embroidered in the
stars of his knights; so that, upon the honour and conscience of a good
sportsman, I hardly know whether there may not have been formerly, or
whether there are not such crossed stags even at this present day. But
let me rather tell what I have seen myself. Having one day spent all my
shot, I found myself unexpectedly in presence of a stately stag, looking
at me as unconcernedly as if he had known of my empty pouches. I charged
immediately with powder, and upon it a good handful of cherry-stones,
for I had sucked the fruit as far as the hurry would permit. Thus I let
fly at him, and hit him just on the middle of the forehead, between his
antlers; it stunned him – he staggered – yet he made off. A year or two
after, being with a party in the same forest, I beheld a noble stag with
a fine full grown cherry-tree above ten feet high between his antlers.
I immediately recollected my former adventure, looked upon him as my
property, and brought him to the ground by one shot, which at once
gave me the haunch and cherry-sauce; for the tree was covered with the
richest fruit, the like I had never tasted before. Who knows but some
passionate holy sportsman, or sporting abbot or bishop, may have shot,
planted, and fixed the cross between the antlers of St. Hubert’s stag,
in a manner similar to this? They always have been, and still are,
famous for plantations of crosses and antlers; and in a case of distress
or dilemma, which too often happens to keen sportsmen, one is apt to
grasp at anything for safety, and to try any expedient rather than
miss the favourable opportunity. I have many times found myself in that
trying situation.
What do you say of this, for example? Daylight and
