old Age came on, he left off Fox hunting; but a Hare is not yet Safe that Sits within ten Miles of his House.' [Footnote 383: _Spectator_, 115.] Hunting commenced both earlier in the season and in the day than now. 'It must be imagined it was near Day when we went to Bed and therefore could not be expected we should get out a Hunting at Five or Six in the Morning.'[384] From a set of nearly contemporary prints we gather that possibly little attention was paid to earth-stopping, when fox-hunting, for one part of the engraving shows a fox being dug out. In another part the hounds are breaking up the fox, which has not been denuded of his brush. Only the gentlemen are represented as being on horseback, the huntsmen having leaping poles. This was better for them than being mounted, for the country was nothing like as cultivated as now, and perfectly undrained, so that they could go straighter on foot, and with these poles leaps could be taken that no horseman would attempt. [Footnote 384: _The Quaker's Art of Courtship_, 1710.] Nor should the Fox shun the pursuing Hound Nor the Tall Stag with branching Antlers crown'd.[385] [Footnote 385: _Rural Sports_, Gay, ed. 1713.] From the engravings referred to, we find that the stag was first found, or harboured, with a bloodhound--the staghounds were coupled, and let loose when wanted by the huntsmen, who were on foot. Its death was duly celebrated by a 'Mort,' or blowing of horns, when a hunting-knife was presented to the principal man present, to cut off its head, after everyone had passed his opinion as to its age, weight, etc.: the deer was then carted home. Guns were carried wherewith to shoot the stag, if necessary, when at bay. Budgell, in _Spectator_ No. 117, well describes a run after a hare, and the discipline of the hounds who were close upon the hare, when the huntsman threw his pole between them--this the well-tutored dogs would not pass, and the hare was rescued. Gay, too, tells the story of a run well:-- Now at a Fault the Dogs confus'dly stray, And try t'unravel his perplexing Way; They trace his artful Doubles o'er and o'er, Smell every Shrub, and all the Plain explore, 'Till some stanch Hound summons the baffled Crew, And strikes away his wily Steps anew. Along the Fields they scow'r with jocund Voice, The frighted Hare starts at the distant Noise; New Stratagems and various Shifts he tries, Oft' he looks back, and dreads a close Surprize; Th' advancing Dogs still haunt his list'ning Ear, And ev'ry breeze augments his growing Fear: 'Till tir'd at last, he pants, and heaves for Breath; Then lays him down, and waits approaching death.[386] [Footnote 386: _Ibid._] Or what better description could we have of coursing a hare than the following:--