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, NO. 9. PINEHUKST, NORTH CAROLINA, JAN. 23, 1903. PRICE THREE
VOL. VI.
CENTS
A SOUTHERN FOX HUNT!
Graphic Pictures of this Sport of Sports
in the South.
From the Time the Strike Dog- Hits
the Trail Until the Death it is a
Mad, Wild Race!
I awoke with a tart to find a firm
hand on my shoulder and a tall, indis
tinct form bending over me: "It's 5
o'clock sir !" said a familiar voice which
I recognized as that of my Southern
host; and then I vaguely remembered
that we had planned a fox hunt. uTime
to start if we hope to get a fox going,"
he added, and was gone. I gazed out
through the window at the gray dawn,
as his footsteps grew fainter in the hall
way, and a moment later had bounced
out of bed into the cold and was hurried
ly dressing. Pulling on my riding boots
and buckling on my spurs, I made my
way to the dining room. My host stood
with his back to the logs, which were
crackling in the big fireplace, as I en
tered and remarked as he stooped down
and lifted a smoking coflee pot from the
hearth, "Excellent time, sir. Now for
a hunter's breakfast and we'll be off."
We talked fox hunting while we ate
prime old Virginia ham, cold rolls and
preserves and sipped the very excellent
coltee which my host assured me he had
made.
A few minutes later, we were feeding
the pack of fifteen wiry, shrilled-voiced
hounds, my friend all the while calling,
"Whoo-op! Whoo-op!" in a piercing
musical voice, apparently unmindful of
the fact that the household was fast
asleep. "We breed for nose, speed and
endurance, sir, first last and always,"
said my guide, as we made our way to
the stables, where we saddled and bri
dled the hunters, for no darkies were yet
astir, and soon we were making our way
toward the woods along the road.
The air was damp and cold. A hoary
frost lay upon the landscape, which
looked strangely weird in the uncertain
light of the waning moon and rising
sun. The horses champed their bits im
patiently and the hounds, trotting along
with tails erect, responded to the horn
with contented howls.
"I hope your first hunt will be a good
one," said my friend, as we left the
road and entered the woods. The
hounds spread out rapidly in every direc
tion, sniffing here and there eagerly;
but there was no response to the en
couraging, "Star-r-r there! Star-r-r!"
except impatient whines, now and then.
Frequently a puppy would dash away on
a hare trail, setting my heart going, but
the pack showed its disgust by turning
in the opposite direction and my friend
seemed not to hear it. Presently a hound
opened feebly on the right. The dogs
ceased ranging and stood with heads
erect. My friend pulled his horse up
sharply and sat as immovable as a statue.
A minute later, the hound opened with
more confidence and a second later burst
forth into a musical "Aou-ooo-ooo ."
The waiting hounds started pell mell and
my host drove the spurs into his horse
and plunged through the cover with a
wild: "Har-rk to 'er ! Hoorah, Roxy!
Hoorah, little dogs !" My heart was in
my throat as I gave my horse the rein
and followed. Ere long I reached my
friend's side. "A running trail," he call
ed to me above the music of the pack,
"and a mighty good one. They will
have him up presently. Just follow me."
The last injunction was unnecessary,
for my horse was attending to that part
of the program, and I was thanking my
stars that I learned to ride in the West.
On we dashed, whisking past tree trunks,
dodging limbs, and leaping fallen trees,
the pack warming to its work superbly
as it picked up the trail where it ran
through the dense cover. At times the
music dulled and at others it burst forth
so violently that I was sure Reynard
must be "going" but my friend kept as
suring me that such was not the case.
It was a splendid opportunity to watch
the dogs work, to see first this one and
that catch the scent and give voice ; or
to see the whole pack plunging along.
Suddenly a dog circling to the right
dashed away with frantic yelps and head
erect. My friend's hurried exclamation,
"They've jumped him !" was unnecessary.
One brief moment he drew rein to
"hark" the pack, still busy on the trail,
and then the mad race began. By
George, I can feel that quivering horse
beneath me now ! I can see tree trunks
fitting past and hear the frantic cry in
my ears ! On we dashed, across a yawn
ing ditch, over a low fence through a
semi-clearing that a sane man would
hate to lead a horse through, unmindful
of all save the mad desire to keep up.
Then there came a lull. The pack had
distanced us and we heard the cry grow
ing fainter and fainter and fainter as it
circled to the north.
In a short time, my friend had pulled
down a fence and we were galloping
away to cut the dogs off, over an open
field, past a little cabin, and through a
( Continued to second page)
IMPROVEMENT ON NATURE !
Visit to Pinehurst Market Garden Dis
poses of Ancient Proverb.
Under Perfect Condition) Vegetable
Cm row Crlnper and Quicker than
Out of Uoont-MeuMonn lie-veined.
"You can't improve on Nature" is only
one of several very ancient proverbs
that have not stood the test of time, and
if there are unbelievers among The
Outlook's readers, they need only to
visit the Pinehurst Market Garden to be
convinced.
It will be quite a shock to the uniniti
ated, to find cucumbers growing on
trellaces like morning glories, and grow
ing better than they grow on the ground
in the best managed gardens ; quite a
surprise to see great beds of headed let
tuce that in beauty and crispness, sur
pass anything ever seen out of doors ;
but when the full realization comes that
it is all true and not a dream, the observer
realizes that the twentieth century has
been able to "improve on nature" in at
least one particular, and literally, by aid
of the greenhouse, turn winter into sum
mer. Not only are the seasons reversed, but
ideal growing conditions are also pro
duced, and the result is that the vege
tables grow quicker, crisper and better
in every way, all because they are con
tinually in the proper temperature, have
plenty of water, the best of soil and pro
tected from the elements.
Great care is necessary for the hot
house vegetable is more delicate than its
outdoor neighbor, and especial attention
must be given to keeping the greenhouse
at the right temperature, giving proper
ventilation and watering at the right
time and in the right quantity. When
the weather is cloudy for an extended
time, dampness must be guarded against
and when the sun's rays are too hot the
glass must be whitewashed or covered
with cloth, to break the force of the
rays ; but all this knowledge is a part of
the training of the up-to-date market
gardener and becomes second nature to
him; as easily performed as are the du
ties of an experienced trained nurse.
The Pinehurst Market Garden, located
just to the right of the seventh hole on
the golf course, is one of the many im
portant departments in the superb equip
ment of the Village; meeting a demand
which may almost be called a necessity.
It has been in operation some years, but
this year under the direction of Thomas
J. Lyons, of Arlington, Mass., is turn
ing out more practical results than ever
(Continued to second page)
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