RED-DEER HUNTING IN THE NEW FOREST.

Mu. EDITOR, --In common, I trust, with every real sportsman in the United Kingdom, I pass a few very agreeable hours cach month in the perusal of " Maga."

In the number for the present October I find a pleasant paper, entitled, “ Red-Deer Hunting in the New Forest,” in which the following observations appear :

“ The last of the hounds' were, I believe, those which hunted in Devonshire, and were kept by Lord Fortescue, at his own expense. In 1819 they became a subscription-pack, under the care of Mr. Lucas, and hunted that country till 1825 or 1826, at which period may be said to have been wound first the recheat, and then the mort' of real stag-hunting in merrie England '-such, at least, as it was in days of yore.”

The author will, I trust, pardon me when I say, in all courtesy and kindness, that he writes in error ; and if he will oblige me by reading an humble work, entitled, “ Exmoor,” published by Mr. Newby some few years since, a second edition of which, with corrections and additions, will soon appear, he will therein find a detailed account of the North Devon staghounds, which will convince him that the noble wild deer of Exmoor Forest are still roused from their native lair, and afford many a gallant run across one of the wildest and most beautiful countries in the world. But more than this—the red-deer of Exmoor have never been, and I sincerely hope never will be, exterminated, or the hunting given up. Indeed, it so happens that early last month I found myself at Dulverton, where I passed two or three days which I shall ever remember with pleasure, the details of which I shall more largely dwell on in a work I am preparing for the press : in the meantime I will merely add, that on the evening of the 19th, I dined in company with Mr. Carew, the master of the Tiverton hounds, Mr. Russell, Mr. Lucas, and Dr. Collyns -sportsmen as well known in the West as are Lord J. Russell and Lord Derby in the political world ; and on the morning of the 10th, as fine a pack of staghounds as were ever unkennelled, headed by that admirable woodland huntsman Beale, and commanded by their kind and courteous master, Mr. Carew, of Callegnest, followed by a large field, jogged merrily on for West Hill Wood, where a gallant stag was found, and killed after a chace of some duration. I have therefore said enough to prove that “real stag-hunting" is not over in merrie England-on the contrary, that although the spirit of the hunt was somewhat depressed for a few years, owing to the lack of the means of war, thanks to Mr. Carew, their motto is now " Aveto splendore resurgam!”

Your faithful servant,

LINTON St. Myrtles, Oct. 8, 1852.

OTTER HUNTING IN THE FAR NORTH.
A DAY WITH THE DUKE OF ATHOLL.

BY HAWTHORNE.

“ Seas have their sharks ;
Rivers and ponds enclose the ravenous pike;
He in his turn becomes a prey ; on him
The amphibious otter feasts : just is bis fate
Deserved. But tyrants know no bounds. Nor spears,
That bristle on his back, defend the perch
Prom his wide, greedy jaws; nor burnished mail
The yellow carp; nor all his arts can save
Th' insinuating eel, that bides his head
Beneath the slimy mud: nor yet escapes
The crinison-spotted trout-the river's pride,
And beauty of the stream! Without remorse
The midnight pillager, raging around,
Insatiate swallows all! The owner mourns
Th' unpeopled rivulet, and gladly hears
The huntsman's early call."

Hunting the otter was once a very favourite British pastime. During the reign of Elizabeth many packs of otter hounds were kept by the nobles, with whom it was a very favourite sport. It is now again revived “in the far north” by his Grace the Duke of Atholl, who has established a capital pack of otter hounds, which are located at Dunkeld House, on the north bank of the river Tay, most comfortable and convenient kennels having been erected for them.

The pack consists of twenty-four couples of working hounds, with a promising entry of some nine couple of young hounds for next season. They are hunted by his Grace himself, who has them under beautiful command ; indeed, they are as handy as any pack of foxhounds we ever set eyes on, and free from riot of any kind, his Grace being ably assisted by his three “helps ”—all hardy and true sons of the mountains.

Before giving any chronicle of the past season's sport, let us indulge our readers, particularly such as may not as yet have paid a visit so far north, with a short description of part of the country hunted over. Let it then be recorded that the Tay-yes, the noble river Tay, and its tributaries, are the favourite hunting streams—the Tay! so uniformly rich, and so exceedingly various and beautiful in scenery, that a volume might be written in its praises. Its vale, from the romantic hill of Kinnoul, a little below Perth, to the pass of Birnam, a little below Dunkeld, is everywhere brilliant and gorgeous ; and its views above this point are so exquisite, so diversified, so replete with attractions, that they can be etched by no one, except with dashes of enthusiasm. After passing Dunkeld, and rounding the base of Craigie Barns, the broadest part of the valley, for a space of many miles, is here detailed before the eyc so minutely that every part of its various ornaments is seen in the most advantageous manner-the Tay winding along, from its junction with the Tummel, through the bright meadows interspersed with trees, till it buries itself deep among the wooded banks. Then on each ha

rises a long screen of varied hills, covered with woods in every picturesque form, the whole vista terminating in the remoter mountains, which, equally rich and various, are softened by the blue haze of the distance, as they close in above the far-famed pass of Killiecran Kie. Though the western and upper branch of the Tay, from the junction of the Tummel, upward to Kenmore, is not perhaps equal in splendour to the lower and southern one, it still maintains the same character of richness throughout ; while instead of the flat extended meadows which mark the latter, it displays a considerable undulation of ground. Thus the valley of the Tay-a distance of some twenty-five miles, is a continued scene of beauty-a majestic river winding through a highly-wooded and cultivated country, with a lofty mountain boundary in the distance, I believe it is but justice to say, that this “strath” of the Tay is, in point of splendour and richness, the first and fairest of all our Scottish valleys. But to our sport

" Huntsman, bring
Thy eager pack, and trail him to his couch.
Hark! the loud peal begins! How greedily
They snuff the fishy stream, that to each blade
Rank scenting clicgs !
Now on firm land they range; then in the flood
They plunge tumultuous; or, through reedy pools,
Rustling they work their way-no holt escapes

Their curious search." The Duke, with great perseverance and proper drafting of his hounds, has now a most brilliant pack; and the sport with them has been in every way equal to their high character. Scarcely an otter found but what has been killed, or marked to “couch," while on several occasions out a brace of otters have been brought to book. On the last day of their season, namely, the 10th of August, they had a glorious day's sport at the Loch of Lundie. His Grace left Dunkeld House at an early hour, and with his well-appointed van for the hounds, drove with four gallant greys to the Dunkeld-road Station. The hounds were soon boxed on the Scottish Midland line ; railed on to Cupar-Angus on the Isla, and then over the hill to the Loch of Lundie. Here they were welcomed by Lord Kinnaird and a large party from Rossie PrioryLord and Lady Duncan, Sir John M‘Kenzie, Major Johnston, Mr. and Mrs. Watson of Keilour, Sir John Ogilvie and party, and a great many ladies and gentlemen from the Birmingham of Scotland (Dundee), as well as by carriages of all descriptions, containing many bright eyes and fair forms. No sooner were the hounds on the margin of the lake than the whole pack (twelve couple of hounds) opened on his seal or scent, their melodious music resounding over the hills, and floating on the waters of this beautiful little lake. With a burning scent they made him out to the west end of the water, from which, in two minutes, they bolted him in full view of the whole field, Victor sticking to him like wax, and giving him no time to vent. “Mr. Silky " then bent his watery course to a small island ; but here he had no time to tarry, the hounds being close in his wake, and so away he steamed it at railway speed to the west end of the lake again, with every hound close on him. Here the scene baffles all description. The vast number of foot people from Dundee had got so excited by this time with the sport, and the merry music of the pack, that scores of the manufactory lads dashed in among the slimy mud and reeds, and nothing was heard but Lord, Jock !

het me out! I'm up to the arm-pits, man.” “ Tam-reach me your han ! I'm up to the chin! How in a' the world am I to get out ?”

Venting every two minutes, the otter once more retraced his steps, the whole twelve couple straining every nerve of their swimming powers to reach him- Cruel and Crystal keeping within a yard of his brush, and ready every time he vented to mouth him ; but the moment they made a grab, down he was like a shot, and in this fashion he reached the other end of the lake.

While this was taking place, the noble huntsman had got hold of a boat, and made for the small island, which he had scarcely reached when the otter showed himself close to the boat. Just at this period of the sport, a water-spout burst over the many hunters, and the thunders and lightnings of leaven hung on the lake with loud and alarming peals. The fair sex of course had to fly for shelter ; but the Duke and most of the sportsmen continued with the hounds, close on their prey all the time. It was not, however, until after three hours' hot pursuit that this game animal fell before the pack, his who-whoop being sung by hundreds who had remained to see the finish-ra glorious one indeed! Banks of the Almond,

Oct. 22, 1852.

TO WILLIAM SELBY LOWNDES, ESQ.

SIR,—I beg to address you respecting an article headed “ Fair Play is a Jewel," which appeared in the Sporting Magazine of June last.

In vindication of your character, which is assailed in that article, and (to that end) for the purpose of ascertaining who is the author, you have proceeded against the publisher,

It is with regret for the fact, and not merely in apprehension of the consequences, that I admit I am the author. It is with regret too I add, I have written that which is untrue. I admit fully and unqualifiedly—and I desire this to be understood—that as to so much of the article as consists of matter of assumed or of alleged fact reflecting upon yourself or any of your family, or upon your conduct as a gentleman, it is entirely untrue, and without any semblance of foundation. As to the rest of the article, I cannot but unfeignedly admit it to be most unjustifiable and ungentlemanlike ; and I give you the fullest power to make this apology known in any quarter you may think proper, entirely at your own discretion.

And I engage that a copy of this letter shall appear in the next number of the magazine, in all respects as prominently as appeared the article itself ; although, by your permission, I shall subscribe that article, not with my own name, but with that which is assumed at the foot of the article itself.

Upon your learning that the prescribed terms have been fulfilled, I request you to give directions to stop all further proceedings.

I am, sir,

Your most obedient servant Oct. 1, 1852.

JURYMAN.

PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS OF THE METROPOLIS.

“We belong to the unpopular family of Tell-truths, and would not flatter Apollo for his lyre." —Rob Roy.

After naming the debût of Miss Hickson at the LYCEUM, the production of Mr. Marston's new play at the PRINCESS's, and “ Box and Cox Married and Settled " at the HAYMARKET, there remains nothing to dwell upon at any of the theatres. It is true that DRURY Lane has been opened, and closed again directly ; but that's nothing new, for seasons at that house are nearly as numerous at Australian craft, or as rich old uncles on the stage. The public's old favourite, Mons. Jullien, must make haste and put his house in order, and commence his season of “ Promenade Concerts," when there will be ample assurance of bountiful return for small disbursements. Besides, under his management, there is never the chilling and gloomy spectacle of a vast building like Drury Lane being in an inglorious state of emptiness. November nights sans Jullien's Concerts would be just as reconcileable as the ninth of this month is to the Alderman without the Lord Mayor's customary feast. Make haste, then, M. Jullien, and restore harmony within the walls of Old Drury.

With the exception of the trifle from the French, “A House out of Windows," the entertainment at the Lyceum consists of a selection from old favourites. The most prominent being Mr. Planche's “Golden Fleece,” in which Madame Vestris sustains her original character. It is questionable policy this systein of resuscitation, especially in an instance like the present, where the time and opportunity for the many smart and pointed allusions, which sparkle throughout, are gone.

If Mr. Mathews has sinned, how much more so has the lessee of the Haymarket and Adelphi ! for at those theatres the antique is studied, and only the antique ; the exception being the second edition of “ Box and Cox" at the former, and that certainly does not in any way differ from continuations in general. Of the many dreary, musty, old comedies brought forward on the same stage, it is merely necessary to refer to “ The Road to Ruin,” which serves to introduce Miss Rosa Bennett to a London audience, who at all times greeted her sister, Miss Julia Bennett ; and certainly the good opinion formed of the absent favourite is likely to be shared by the present one, who has many requisites for comedy, which, in common fairness, should be exercised in some more novel character than Sophia.

At the other house--the hole in the wall in the Strand—the lovers of excitement and crime muster more strongly, perhaps from the food :. being of a stronger kind. There is, as an ancient philosopher ob