When reached, their bellowing, countless quarry:  the plain alive and trembling with their tumult, what tournament of mail-clad knights but was as a stilted play to this rude shock of man and beast—­carrying in a cloud of dust that hid alike the chaser and the chased, till done their work the frightened herds swept onward and away, leaving the sward flecked with the huge forms that made the hunters’ wealth!  And now! on:  fall prosaic from the wild charge, the danger of the fierce melee!—­drifting from the camp the carts appear piled red in a trice with bosses, tongues, back fat and juicy haunch, a feast unknown to hapless kings.

We but glance at this great feature, that fed so fat our Utopia, leaving to imagination the return, the trade, the feasting and the fiddle when lusty legs embossed by “quills” or beads kept up the dance.

The outcome of the “Plain Hunt” was not only a wide spread plenty among the Hunters on reaching the quiet farmer folk upon the rivers, but also the diffusion of a sunshine, a tone of generous serenity that sat well on the chivalry of the chase—­the bold riders of the Plain.

THE SUMMER PRAIRIES

Beneficent nature nowhere makes her compensations more gratefully felt than in the summer season of our Utopia of the north, where the purest and most vivifying of atmospheres hues with a wealth of sunshine the great reaching spaces of verdure covered with flowers in a profusion rivaling their exquisite beauty.  Green waving copses dot the level sward, and rob the sky line of its sea-like sweep.  The winding rivers, signalled by their wooded banks, upon which rest the comfortable homes of the dwellers in the “hidden land” guarding their little fields close by where the ranked grain standing awaits the sickle, turning from green to gold and so unhurried resting.  The shining cattle couched outside in ruminant content or cropping lazily the succulent feast spread wide before them; the horses wary of approach, just seen in compact bands upon the verge; the patriarchal windmills—­at wide spaces—­signalling to each other their peaceful task; the little groups of horsemen coming adown the winding road, or stopping to greet some good wife and her gossip—­going abroad in a high-railed cart in quest of trade, or friendly call.  And as the day wanes, the sleek cows, with considered careful walk and placid mien, wend their way homeward, bearing their heavy udders to the house-mother, who, pail in hand awaiting their approach, pauses for a moment to mark the feathered boaster at her feet, as he makes his parting vaunt of a day well spent and summons “Partlet” to her vesper perch hard by.

O’er all the scene there rests a brooding peace, bespeaking tranquil lives, repose trimmed with the hush of night, and effort healthful and cool as the freshening airs of morn.

L’ENVOI.