We had some queer fences I can tell you ; but luckily for me I was riding old Flash-in-the-pan, and at the pace we were going' he thought nothing of them. Bumptious was a little a-head of me, but his horse refused the brook ; and as I jumped it in my stride, I overhauled him.” Here you put in a question as to what sort of head the hounds carried, what terms they were on with their fox, the assistance, if any, which they received from their huntsman, and for a moment you rate the fast one back to the line, but it is only for a moment. “Oh, the hounds ?” he replies, as if he should not otherwise have mentioned them, “they ran like fury; it was all grass, and I believe up wind. I know the pace was so good I was blown when we got to the double-post and rails, but I broke the further one, and got over without a fall.” And filling a large glass of claret he gets back to his own deeds of daring and the incomparable prowess of Flash-in-the-pan. But exciting as all this is, and good fun as unquestionably it must be, we can scarcely call these steeple-chases after hounds by the name of hunting, or the vain-glorious promoters thereof by the title of sportsmen. Do they ever consider that if no one took more pains than themselves to master the arcana of that pursuit, to which, after all, they devote a large portion of their time ; if master, huntsman, whips, hounds, &c., were all for a gallop" and nothing else ; if the head of the establishment were not cautious, and his myrmidons what our lively friend terms “slow,” what would become of that reliance on each other, that equality in pace, and union in quickness, which enables a pack of hounds to show him such a breather as “ winds up” his favourite hunter, thorough-bred one though he be, in less than a quarter of an hour ? This brilliant display like some gorgeous pantomime has been prepared and “got up" with a degree of pains and trouble which only those who are “ behind the scenes" can appreciate or calculate : and many an endless woodland, many a cold hunting “ journey” can bear witness to the perseverance and discipline which eventually attain such popular results as “ twentyfive minutes without a check over the grass, six miles from point to point, and pulled him down in the middle of a sixty-acre field, a quarter of a mile from the main earths at Cold Harbour, which were open." Let us then not turn up our noses when the hounds put down theirs, let us not despise slow-hunting, and, above all, the slow-hunting which is so characteristic of a pack of harriers. I have heard it said by men who have distinguished themselves in both pursuits, that the science and ingenuity which are required to kill “a good hare” is even greater than that which is necessary to give an account of a “ bad fox," and there is many a weather-beaten old dodger, in low-crowned hat and mahogany tops, mounted on some venerable“ bo-kicker” with a snaffle bridle, who brings a degree of thoughtfulness and quick apprehension to bear on his long-eared, blue-mottled favourites, that would do honour to the fastest huntsman that ever rode over the most flying country of the much admired “shires."

Well, notwithstanding Mrs. Nogo's contempt for the whole performance, I got my hounds together, learned their names, drafted, fed, and encouraged them till they knew me as intimately and confided in me as entirely as the most sagacious retriever in Norfolk knows and confides in the tyrant in velveteen, whose heel he has followed since his puppyhood, and from whom no amount of seduction can tempt the faithful and much enduring animal. It really was a pleasure on a fine scenting morning to ride one of my quiet steady-going horses to the kennel door and witness the rush of my favourites as they came pouring out to meet me, jumping over each other's backs in their eagerness to share their master's approbation, and ever and anon throwing their deep mel. low tongues, while they shook back their long pendant ears as if to tell me how ready and willing they were for our mutual labour and amusement. It is needless to describe the difficulties I had to encounter, or the ignorance I was obliged to conceal, in my first attempts at hunting the wiliest animal of the chase ; for in shrewd cunning and baffling subterfuge, I conceive a hare to be infinitely more deceptive than a fox. In time my hounds became steady and I began to learn, and ere long a good scenting day and some opportune assistance from a farmer enabled me to decide upon the great superiority conceded at the dinner-table to a hare that has been hunted to death, over her sister peppered with No. 6 and afterwards mangled by a retriever at a battue. But satisfactory as was my success on this never-to-be-forgotten occasion, I had no one with whom to discuss my perplexities or to enjoy my triumphs.

Mrs. Nogo took, as she said now, “ little interest in field-sports," the few farmers over whose land I rode were not people I could ask to dinner, and the Squire was so occupied with county business and the management of his own fox-hounds, that he had seldom leisure to pay me a visit, or to look at my harriers. Joe Bagshot, who was a priceless companion in the field or at the dinner-table, had sold the old brown horse, and was becoming, since his marriage, an altered man, whilst the country gentlemen and Squirearchy lived mostly so wide of Wildwood, as to make it impossible to keep up anything like constant intercourse. In this dearth of society it occurred to me that I should be doing myself a favour, as well as conferring a kindness upon my ci-devant medical adviser, by inviting little Dr. Dott, that enthusiast in sporting and surgery, that Nimrod of the Pharmacopoeia, to come down and stay with me a week or ten days, and enjoy in practice those ainusements on which in theory he so loved to expatiate. My horses were easy and temperate : even if they should be too much for the little doctor, a child might ride the pony. Yes, I would ask him down, mount him, take him over to the kennels at Topthorne, and send him home with anecdotes of the wild sports of the west, that should last him his life-time, and make his wife and children stare with astonishment to hear the heroic deeds of the head of the family.

Leave was obtained from Mrs. Nogo, though not without some slight demur, until it occurred to her that to have a "medical man in the house” would be such a comfort in her state of health ; a note was despatched to London containing a pressing invitation, and full particulars as to the route by which my guest was to reach the farin. IIis reply to my letter, forwarded by return of post, so eagerly accepted my offer, that I really looked forward with the greatest pleasure to the arrival of my Esculapius, nor from my previous knowledge of the limited extent of his practice did my conscience smite me as to the harm his absence from London might inflict upon his interests. I sent a dog-cart to meet him at the station ; for even in that remote district there was a railway, and consequently a station ; and as Mrs. Nogo and myself sat over the drawing-room fire, and deferred ordering tea until the arrival

of our guest, we amused ourselves with speculating on his surprise and delight at a mode of life so entirely differing from his usual habits, whilst we listened, not I am afraid without a slight degree of self-satis. faction, to the wintry wind that howled round the house, and drove the pattering rain against the windows, whilst we charitably hoped that the waters might not be out” at the ford through which our expected guest must pass ere he could arrive at Wild-wood farm.

LETTERS FROM MY UNCLE SCRIBBLE,

MY DEAR NEPHEW,

If you wish to “ follow the fox” to any effect in the morning, do not “follow strong drink” in the evening. Your recreation ought to be a guarantee for your moderation. Leave the “cardinals” and the “ bishops,' and their spiritual peers, and stick to the "commons." Give the lie to the unjust suspicions of old women in black breeches and white neckcloths, who iinagine foxhunting and drunkenness to be synonymous terms in the English universities. Do what you can, at all events, to disabuse their minds of so ridiculous a prejudice.

The morning frosts and drooping flowers will soon warn us of our approaching season : of course you are looking forward to it with that zealous hope and anticipation which is the peculiar charm of youth, and retributive requital for your greenness. Realities in this world fall far short of early promise ; and if you could follow the example of the “pius Æneas," and track his footsteps to that

“ Via, Tartarei quæ fert Acherontis ad undas,” you might learn this fact from no less a personage than Cardinal Wolsey. Shakspeare, who was at least a moderate judge of human nature, makes him discover it before his death :

" This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth

The tender leaves of hope : to-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him :

The third day comes a frost-a killing frost," &c. I have no doubt Shakspeare would feel exceedingly grateful to all the old sinriers and middle-aged roués (they never grow old, with their brown wigs and padded coats) who would bear testimony to his just description of blighted anticipations. If you make up your mind that Lady Blunderbore's ball, or Mrs. Gardener Blossomnose's dejeuner à la fourchette is to be the most delightful thing of the season; if you have spent three-quarters of an hour in giving the last finishing twist to an unruly whisker, I would bet any money that dear Louisa's mamma enters the ball-room on the grounds, minus Louisa, who has sprained her ancle only the day before. Or if partridges are more in your line, just go to bed on the night of the 31st of August, with a moral certainty for your nightcap of killing six brace before breakfast, and the odds are at least 3 to 1 against your seeing anything but a lark before twelve o'clock-when, just as you lie down for half an hour, dead-beat with vexation and tight shooting boots, you hear a covey of sixteen get up within fifteen vards of you, and are on your legs in time to see them settle in Baggemall's turnips, where a sturdy ruffian in brown fustian, and an oaken club, is marking for his master. My dear boy, do you ever go to venison dinners ? do you care about eating and drinking? do you know a piece of turtle-fat when you see it? Only just get up an appetite; come home as hungry as a stiff walk or a sea-breeze can make you; dress in a hurry, and contemplate in your mind's eye the wonderful haunch that you know is cooking at Sir O'Gourmand McHashem's kitchen fire. Arrive to the moment at seven o'clock, and if that haunch is not totally raw, or roasted to rags, I'll eat the whole of it myself. Dream of a horse, a dog, a dinner, a bag, a woman--and they'll all disappoint you. But dream of hunting ; let loose all your imagination; give the reins to your fancy, without control; think what you like of it, and make a picture whose colours are more vivid, and whose amalgamations are more wonderfully inconceivable than poor old Turner's ever were, and you will not come within many degrees of the reality. The Cardinal gave up hunting when he ceased to be a hard-working curate (benefices made him great, and greatness made him fat and fastidious), or he would have acknowledged this one exception to the catholic rule. The excitement, the intelligence to be called into play by bipeds, the instinct by quadrupeds, the trial of nerve and skill, the tield for observation, the results in health, cheerfulness, good fellowship, society-all these combined, with the pictorial effect of hanging up the field over a spiked gate, or twenty-seven feet of water (which only requires that you put your theories into practice), make hunting a pleasure so far beyond every sort of recreation, that I only wonder there's rooin for us in the fields at all.

By the way, that reminds me—“A field for observation," I said : and now, young gentleman, before I continue to trouble myself with your venatorial education, by writing whole quires of paper upon so valuable a subject, I just wish to know what you hunt for. Is it to get an appetite ? or because it's the fashion? or because you think leather breeches becoming ? or as an excuse for jumping fences ? or to smoke cigars in company? or to kill the fox ? or to kill the hounds ? or to kill yourself? Because, amongst the many various reasons given for it, even this last once operated for a month or two. The little fellow fell in love, very foolishly and very unsuccessfully; and for some time he rode like a Trojan. Nothing was too wide--nothing too high: the Bay of Biscay would not have been too deep. The people wondered, as people do wonder when they can't explain a phenomenon satisfactorily. * At last the secret oozed out. Better die of hunting than of love-one was at least honourable, if not pleasant; the latter was neither the one nor the other. So he vowed to destroy himself in pursuit of bold Reynard. But he was so uncowmonly small and light that nothing conld fall with him for some time; and when a bit of stiff timber accomplished the object, so far from breaking his neck it hardly bruised him. So we laughed at him instead of burying him, and he got cured in the natural way.

But I tell you what the hunting-field is to a man of brains-or what it may be. It is not meant for an exhibition-shop, nor a cigardivan, nor a circus, nor the Morgue; but it is a place where an English gentleman may exhibit as much nerve, skill, temper, patience, watchfulness, courtesy, as was required for the tilt-yard of the days of chivalry; and may acquire more knowledge of character, and of animal life, and improve his natural intelligence quite as rapidly as the scholar does his in the middle of the Radcliffe Library.

Now this is a great purpose for which I should like you to hunt. I began for my own personal gratification ; and time has taught me the value of what I am now endeavouring to teach you. Now I'll tell you how to set about it.

You must begin with a book, as well as by book-not Beckford, though every man might learn much hunting from him; nor Nimrod, where you will learn more of Nimrod than of hunting ; but a “Hunting Diary,” for a record of the sport of the season. You will find this said book, with many other amusing and valuable works on sport, at Mfr. Fores's Sporting Gallery, at the corner of Sackvillestreet and Piccadilly. You may hunt without it, as many persons probably do; but of the true science of hunting you will know nothing without a tolerably regular journal of each day's proceedings. This book you will find, therefore, invaluable. At the end of each season you will be able to refer to every separate day's sport, at a moment's notice; and what is still more important, you will be able to see, at one glance, what have been your doings, with your dog or bitch pack, with your old or young horses, “ with a southerly wind and a cloudy sky," or with a bright sun and a light north-easter. You will learn the line of your fox generally from your favourite covers, and from the prevalence of checks in particular localities or covers you will even get some idea of the difference between coldscenting land and warm-holding grass, where hounds will be always more or less on terms with their fox. These are great essentials for the young sportsman to bear in mind—at least, if he loves hunting for its most valuable qualities. It will be very difficult to do this with unassisted memory; and Mr. Fores, for only 5s., has rendered journalism an agreeable and profitable task by the following simple process.

A neat-looking book, exceedingly portable (and which I have myself lately made use of), opens like an almanac, with a page for each week, beginning at any date you please : cross lines are drawn from the top to the bottom of each page, with a space for the insertion of the following matter :-The hounds with which you are out; the name of the huntsman; the meet, and the distance to it from your quarters; the horses you have out; the number of couples of stag (I hope you won't want that), foxhounds, or harriers; the covers drawn, and where found; wind; weather ; scent (three things that you ought to take a daily account of, as most important in this science); where your checks have taken place; what became of your fox; and one whole page at the back of this leaf for general observations.

The publication of a book like this is very valuable. Foxhunters are not always literary characters; so that few would have nightly pulled out a sheet of foolscap, or kept a particular book, to record