In Captain Brown's "Popular Natural History," I find the following:--"In the autumn of the year 1819, at a fox-chase in Galloway, a very strong fox was hard run by the hounds. Finding himself in great danger of being taken, Reynard made for a high wall at a short distance, and springing over it, crept close under the other side: the hounds followed, but no sooner had they leaped the wall, than he sprang back again over it, and by this cunning device gave them the slip, and got safe away from his pursuers." An American gentleman of Pittsfield, accompanied by two blood-hounds, found a fox, and pursued him for nearly two hours, when suddenly the dogs appeared at fault. Their master came up with them near a large log of wood lying on the ground, and felt much surprise at their making a circuit of a few roods without any object in view, every trace of the fox seeming to have been lost, while the dogs still kept yelping. On looking about him the gentleman saw the fox stretched upon the log, apparently lifeless. He made several unsuccessful efforts to direct the attention of the dogs towards the place, and at length he approached so near as to see the animal breathe. Even then Reynard did not show any alarm; but his pursuer aimed a blow at him with the branch of a tree, upon which he leaped from his lurking-place, and was taken. One of the drollest incidents in fox-hunting was that at Newry, in Ireland, when, being pursued very hotly, the fox leaped on to the top of a turf-stack, where he laid himself down quite flat. At last, one of the hounds perceived him, and he was obliged again to run. After this, he climbed up a stone wall, whence he sprang on to the roof of a cabin near by, and mounting to the chimney top, from thence inspected his enemies. An old hound, however, followed him, and was on the point of seizing him, when Reynard dropped down the chimney into the lap of an old woman, who was smoking her pipe at the corner. The hound did not dare to follow, but the sportsmen came up, and entering the cabin, found it in possession of the fox; the frightened woman and children huddled into one corner, and the fox (who was taken alive) grinning at them. In all ages of fable, the fox has been the principal hero. The most ancient fables on record, those of Lokman, the Arabian, from whom Æsop took most of his, gives him a very conspicuous place among the crafty courtiers of the lion. The chief phrase of which the wily flatterer makes use, as he bows with affected humility to his sovereign, is, "Oh, Father of Beauty," by which indirect compliment he generally gains his wishes. The early German writers have also chosen him as the principal hero of various histories, and the poem of "Reynard, the Fox," will live as long as printers and illustrators exercise their art and talent.