the second day, having travelled through four counties, a distance of upwards of one hundred miles. She was immediately sent back to the place of her former destination, to which she returned safe, and after some weeks produced a litter of whelps, which she reared; but no sooner were they weaned, than she undertook a second visit to her native place with equal celerity. She was accordingly sent back again, and having arrived within ten miles of the end of her journey, was tied up by the carrier in a stable with a cord, which she bit in two during the night, and, for a third time, retraced her steps. It was then considered useless to be at any more trouble about her, and she was allowed to end her days where she had commenced them.

Another curious circumstance occurred about forty or fifty years ago, when the Holderness country was hunted by one of the Bethel family, of Rise. Some draft hounds were sent into Kent from Mr. B.'s kennel, by a sailing vessel from Hull; but upon their arrival they refused to remain at their new quarters, and actually found their way back by land as far as Lincoln, where they were taken up, having accomplished more than two-thirds of the distance home.

In a former part I mentioned that the "Sinnington Hunt," in the north of Yorkshire, was supposed to have been the first society of fox-hunters constituted as a club or hunt in England. However, Thomas Fownes, Esq., of Stapleton, in Dorsetshire, is set down as the first gentleman who was known to have kept a regular pack of hounds to hunt exclusively the fox; and "these hounds," says the Rev. William Chafin, in his anecdotes respecting Cranbourn chase, 66 were sold about the year 1730 to Mr. Bowes, who lived in Yorkshire, and were as handsome and as well appointed as the most celebrated packs of the present day. They were taken into Yorkshire by their own attendants, and, after being much admired in their kennel, a day was fixed for making trial of them in the field, to meet at a famous hare-cover near. When the huntsman came with his hounds in the morning, he discovered a great number of sportsmen who were riding in the cover, and whipping the furzes as for a hare; he therefore halted, and informed Mr. Bowes that he was unwilling to throw off his hounds until the gentlemen had retired and ceased the slapping of whips, to which his hounds were not accustomed, and he would engage to find a fox in a few minutes if there was one there. The gentlemen sportsmen having obeyed the orders given by Mr. Bowes, the huntsman, taking the wind of the cover, threw off his hounds, which immediately began to feather, and soon got upon a drag into the cover, and up to the fox's kennel, which went off close before them, and, after a severe burst over a fine country, was killed, to the great satisfaction of the whole party. They then returned to the same cover, not one half of it having been drawn, and very soon found a second fox, exactly in the same manner as before, which broke cover immediately over the same fine country; but the chase was much longer, and, in course of it, the fox made its way into a nobleman's park, I believe Lord Darlington's, which was full of all sorts of riot, and it had been customary to stop all hounds before they could enter into it, which the best mounted sportsman now at

tempted to do, but in vain. The hounds topped the highest fences, ran through herds of deer and a number of hares without taking the least notice of them; ran into their fox and killed him, some miles beyond the park and it was the unanimous opinion of the whole hunt, that it was the finest run ever seen in that country. An ample collection of field-money was made for the huntsman, much beyond his expectation, and he returned to Stapleton in better spirits than he left it, and told his story as above related, in which we must allow for a little exaggeration, very natural upon such an occasion. This pack was probably the progenitors of some of the very fine ones now in the North. Before this pack was raised in Dorsetshire, the hounds which hunted in the chase hunted all the animals promiscuously, excepting the deer, from which they were necessarily made steady, otherwise they would not have been suffered to have hunted at all in it. Subsequently to Mr. Fownes setting the example, several packs of fox-hounds were kept through England, entirely at the expense, in those good old days, of the individuals themselves, who were of that original race of country squires, which has since faded away and become mere matter of history. Some hours before "bright chanticleer proclaimed the dawn," these hardy sportsmen were in their saddles, and making their way over the then unenclosed country, in those days called wolds, to some distant and wild foxcover, relying upon a find by the assistance of the animal's drag, which they were almost sure to hit upon either in one of the contiguous warrens or in the rick-yard of some solitary farm-house: then was the display of nose and close hunting appreciated; no childish jealousy about a good start and good places, but a real enthusiastic enjoyment of the sport. As the pace mended or declined, the huntsman was enabled to discover whether his pack were running the fox's heel or were working their way through the twistings and turnings of his nightly rambles to his kennel; as they drew nearer and nearer to their game, the cry grew louder and the pace faster, till at length the well selected and sheltered brake is approached, where the villain, in all the security that furze and briers could afford him, had concealed himself as the grey tints of the eastern sky warned him to retire from the prying eye of his enemy man. As if conscious of the find, the old hounds rush to the spot, thirsting for his blood; but he has fled, and the welkin rings with the melody of the pack and the cheering horns of the sportsmen, for in those days it was the fashion for all the privileged attendants on the chase to carry a horn, and blow it as occasion might require. The foxes of the last century being far stouter in their natures than many of the mongrel-bred vermin of the present age, stained as they are by the introduction of French blood, were not only enabled to stand longer before hounds, but, from there being so few game preserves, and from the necessity of foxes travelling great distances for their food, they became much wilder and shyer in their habits than they otherwise would have been if they had been enabled constantly to procure their prey close at home, from the remains of the wounded game so abundantly left by sportsmen in some covers which are so perpetually shot in, in all

parts of the country, especially where they are contiguous to large preserves. Moreover, the country was not enclosed as it is now; not one tithe of the fir plantations to stop hounds, nor canals and railroads to form impediments to the progress of the horseman: it was all fair sailing; and as hounds were not bred to go such a flying pace as they do in these days, the horsemen could with great ease keep to the higher parts of the ground, as the hounds hunted their fox along the lines of the valleys, the sides of which were, in most places, clothed with brushwood, and in the same wild and uncultivated state that nature had formed them. The hunting parties of the last century chiefly consisted of the neighbouring country gentlemen, most of whom were in the constant habit of taking a part in the operations of the field, being acquainted with the merits of every hound in the pack, and could stop or cheer them in as scientific a manner as the huntsman himself. The county of York has, from time immemorial, been productive of more genuine sportsmen than any other part of England, and amongst those who flourished in the days of which I have been speaking, no man was more celebrated as a fine specimen of the original stamp of fox-hunter and country gentleman than William Draper, Esq., of Beswick, in the East Riding. I know the old mansion well where this fine old sportsman lived, passing by it, as I frequently did, on my road to cover, when I hunted the Holderness country myself, which consists of what is called Holderness and part of the wolds, reaching as far as the town of Driffield; between which and Beverley, at the village of Beswick, stands the once celebrated manor-house, now much dilapidated, and converted, by degrees, into a regular farm-house. The only feature which would arrest the sportsman's eye is the small public-house which is opposite, ornamented by the sign of The Death of the Fox, or the "Fox and Hounds," as it is there called. The exploits of this once celebrated man have been handed down from father to son amongst the farmers of that neighbourhood; but as the account which I could glean of him would be very imperfect, I will avail myself of a short biographical memoir, written by Major Topham, the substance of which he received from the relations of Mr. Draper himself.

"In the old, but now ruinous mansion of Beswick Hall, in the East Riding of Yorkshire, lived the once well known William Draper, Esq., who bred, fed, and hunted the staunchest pack of foxhounds in Europe. On an income of £700 a year, and no more, he brought up frugally and creditably a family of eleven sons and daughters, kept a stable of right good English hunters, a kennel of true bred fox-hounds, besides a carriage with horses suitable to carry out my lady and her daughters to church and other places of goodly resort. He lived in the old, honest style of his country, killing every month a good ox of his own feeding, and priding himself on maintaining a goodly, substantial table, but with no foreign kickshaws. His general apparel was a long, dark-brown hunting coat, a belt round his waist, and a strong velvet cap on his head. In his humour he was very joking and facetious, having always some pleasant story, both in the field and at the hall, so that his company was much

sought after by persons of good condition, which was of great use to him in after life in advancing his own children. His stables and kennels were kept in such excellent order that sportsmen observed them as schools for huntsmen and grooms, who were glad to live there without wages, merely to learn their business; when they had got good instruction, he then recommended them to other gentlemen, who wished no better character than that they were recommended by Squire Draper. He was always out of bed, during the hunting season, at four o'clock in the morning, and mounted on one of his goodly nags at five o'clock, himself bringing forth his hounds, who knew every note of their master's voice. In the field he rode with good judgment, avoiding what was unnecessary, and helping his hounds when at fault. His daughter, Di, who was equally famous at riding, was wont to assist him, cheering the hounds with her voice. She died in York at a good old age, and what was wonderful to many sportsmen, who dared not follow her, she died with whole bones in her bed. After the fatigues of the day, when he generally brought home a couple of brushes, he entertained those who would return with him, which was sometimes a distance of thirty miles, with good old English hospitality; prime old October home-brewed was the liquor drank, and his first fox-hunting toast, after dinner, was, 'All the brushes in Christendom.' At the age of eighty years this famous squire died as he lived, for he died on horseback; as he was returning from a visit to a neighbouring sportsman, where he had been to give him some instruction about establishing a pack of hounds, he was seized with a fit, and, dropping from his favourite pony, expired. There was no man, rich or poor, in the neighbourhood but who lamented his death, and the foxes were the only living things that had cause to be glad that Squire Draper was no more."

Subsequent to the period above referred to, in which Mr. Draper shone so conspicuous, great improvements took place in almost every department connected with the chase; establishments totally unconnected with the other parts of a country gentleman's household, and on a far more expensive scale than heretofore maintained, began to be kept. Still the chief enjoyers and promoters of the amusement were to be discovered almost exclusively amongst that class of persons who necessarily were the first originators of the science. ing the long period of which I am now speaking, it would be difficult indeed to discover, amongst all his cotemporaries, a counterpart of that extraordinary character, a short memoir of whom I am about to present to my readers.

(To be continued.)

Dur

RAIL v. ROAD;

OR,

ANCIENT AND MODERN TRAVEL.

BY WHISKAWAY.

"All the world's a stage.' -SHAKSPEARE.

Our last placed the traveller in his circumscribed dwelling, three insides and himself. I don't know, if I were choosing, whether I would select male or female companions; three women to one man would never do, and four men would be worse; two ladies and two gentlemen, I think, would be the thing: by ladies I mean nothing under ladies' maids-none of your cook, housemaid, or scullion order, though really servants do dress so finely now-a-days, that it is difficult to guess what they are; veils, however-not money veils, but bonnet veils-I think do not descend below ladies' maids, at least not in my part of the world, and a veil to my vulgar mind is strongly associated with gentility. I think more of a veil than I do of a feather; everybody has a feather; a fat woman in a feather is to be seen everywhere not so veils, I think. Somehow, I like a ladies' maid; most of them have a demi-fashionable air about them, which, in the country, often passes for the real thing. I remember, as a young man, meeting with an exceedingly nice one in an Exeter coach, and continuing my journey on from Glastonbury, whither I was booked, for the mere pleasure of accompanying her. I really believe if it hadn't been for a frowsy old devil getting into the coach near Tiverton, I should have offered to her. She had the finest, fairest complexion I ever looked on, clear and beautifully transparent, with the largest, richest, most lambent blue eyes fringed with the longest silken lashes that ever penetrated human heart; her eyebrows were slightly though regularly pencilled, and her glossy, silken, light brown hair clasped the sides of her exquisitely shaped temples; her nose was Grecian-at least, I suppose it would be called Grecian-I should have called it a slightly turned-up one; at all events, it wasn't one of those confounded packthread cutter-looking things, yclept Roman. And her mouth! Ô, her mouth! I never saw such a mouth either before or since. It's fourteen years since, and yet I have that girl's face as fresh in my mind as though it were but yesterday. It was a mouth! The lips were exquisitely formed-full where fulness is desirable, and fining away where slightness and delicacy is required. Chantrey should have had it for a model; the lips and teeth would have been a fortune for a dentist-Deseriabode, or any of those advertising dogs. And yet she