as you term it-rare rations, I'll be bound, and abundant. Aye, and mark me, Shanks, brighter eyes have shone in yon proud building than ever have twinkled in palace or convent, in the lands watered by the Ebro or the Douro.' But Mr. Long approaches-Gentlemen, you come to see the hounds?' In good truth we do.' I shall be happy to show the kennels.'

66

'Now on the merits of Mr. Long, the huntsman of the Beaufort pack, I need scarcely dwell-he has been long a first-rate huntsman; he has been long with his present noble master; he has been long known to the world; Long is to the life in print; and long since has he been named by abler pens than mine; and long may he still live to chase the gallant fox; if not to hunt-for his best days are over-to enjoy that peace and plenty which he well merits. Of hounds in the Beaufort kennels there are 69 couple, 33 of dogs, and 36 of bitches, indeed a finer pack, I will not say as fine, there is not in merrie England. The Beaufort stables are well filled with well-bred and useful horses; but for the gratification of those who love the noble animal, let me say they number 73. That is to say, his Grace the Duke generally claims eight for his own especial use in the hunting field; the heir to this noble line, the Marquis of Worcester, ten; the huntsman, Long, has six, and each of the whips also six; in addition to which there are about a dozen hacks, two ladies' horses, thirteen carriage horses, and eight driving ponies. By St. Hubert! I see you are incredulous; but such is, nevertheless, the fact: say nay who will, they have only to recollect they are in England. And this magnificent hunting establishment has been the pride of father to son from generation to generation; moreover, let me observe, the pride of every English heart within the range of counties. I will add, however, for the information of my hunting friends, that the country hunted over by these gallant hounds is very extensive, the diameter from east to west, north and south, being at least thirty-five miles; that is from Road Ashton to Hampton Woods, north and south, and from Compton Basset to Stoke, east and west-a pleasant little theatre, methinks, on which to play hunt the varmint. The number of hounds, friend Linton, each day brought into the battle field average about 22 to 22 couple, with eight horses, the whips occasionally having a second, the huntsman always. The hunting days advertised are Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday; and the favourite meets, which are numerous, may be thus named-Chavenage Green, Badminton Lawn, Bath Lodge, Dodington Park, Hullarington, Dyrham Park, Draycot, Bell at Aldto!hey Gate turnpike, Trouble House, Stanton Park, Shepton Moyne, The Plough, Kington, St. Michaels, Codrington village, Christian Malford—— what think you of that my sporting lad?"

"Think of it, Piggy! why, free-trader as I am-that for protection as regards foxes, and to defend the noble sport, I would give a ten thousand plumper, or shed my blood."

"Well, by the peak of Ben Nevis, and in memory of days lang syne, I swear to be your rear rank man, if ever I should be required to handle a musket in such a thorough English cause. But one word more of him who leads this gallant pack to glory in the field: such a man is only second to the Iron Duke, in my estimation; indeed I scarcely ever think of such that I do not fancy him pulling off his tops, after a glorious day's sport, and with slippered feet, and the knees of his leathers unbuttoned,

after a refresher of soft water, sitting down to his snug repast; and if he be a married man, and have a small family, how cheerfully must the evening be passed, while he recounts his feats in flood and field, and they having attended to his comforts. As for Mr. Long, his position must be only second to that of the Duke, his noble master; and if his sadale become vacant, which I trust it may not for long years to come, why I have some idea of applying for the stirrups-the spurs of knighthood he has long won, and I would not desire to deprive him of that his faithful servitude has so long merited; and there are few sportsmen but will acquiesce in my sentiments, when I say that as a boy he was employed with the fifth Duke of Beaufort, to convey and bring the letterbag to and from the post-office; he was then promoted to the stables, and at the period of the Monmouth and Brecon militia being quartered in Bristol, of which fine regiment the Duke was Colonel, he acted as his Grace's pad-groom. Subsequently we find him serving the present Duke then at Oxford, whose horses he invariably took to covert. In the year 1808, John Wood, one of the Duke's whips, had a serious fall, which prevented his hunting for the remainder of the season. Long took his place; but fancying the work too hard for him, the Duke hired another man, named Tom Wiggs. Much noise often lies under a wig; but Thomas had no voice, so Long was again installed in office; and having served for 18 years under the well known Phillip Payne, he at length attained to his dignity of huntsman. This worthy man, Linton, has served the house of Beaufort for half a century-his father ate their bread before him, and, if report speak truly, his son is likely to step into his boots. May all happiness be with the family say I, Linton." "Amen, Piggy.'

"Having enjoyed to the utmost our visit to this noble hunt, we once more returned to Shanks's comfortable quarters at Box. It was with much difficulty I prevented my kind friend from taking the route through Combe, for I felt had he once more had a glimpse of that enviable abode of trout, perhaps we might have been found next morning stuck in a quagmire in the vale of Combe. By the Horse Guards, two hours of the morning are now passed, friend Linton; and as we are to travel tomorrow to the land of the west, the land you love best, it is high time we separate to meet-recollect-at 9-50, at the Paddington station." "Good night, Piggy," and with this I took my departure.

But, alas! what is the use of making up one's mind to anything here on earth? As I was about to start on the following morning, with a heart light as a feather, in the anticipation of Piggy's companionship, I received a letter calling me to the bed side of one who was dear to This put an end to our excursion, and Piggy and I have never since met. It is possible, however, we may do so in the bright days of summer time-and if so, I hope for some more of his hunting adventures-though, alas! since Mr. Briggs has taken the field, his horsemanship has been totally eclipsed.

me.

Piggy, dear friend, farewell-intentionally thou never hast desired injury to human being, though anonymous pens have misjudged thee, and endeavoured to make the world believe that words written in the mere hilarity of the moment, or which have been uttered without thought, were intended to convey pain or ridicule. In this matter truly may you say

"Murus æneus conscientia sana."

295

"HOW THE RACE WAS WON."

WITH AN ILLUSTRATION BY EDWARD CORBET, AND AN ELUCIDATION BY HENRY CORBET.

Well, here, my lads, safe home once more
Have I and the old mare found our way;
I guess you'd have said it's long before
We could have gone and done it. Eh?
You didn't think it was in us, perhaps,
Or as we could spoil the fav'rite's fun-
But there, you self-conceited chaps,

I'll show you how the race was won.

That is, if so be you'll understand
What I may tell of and advise,

For there's something more for head and hand
Than just a riding exercise-

When the silk's a rattling in the wind,
And all for life you're cramming on,
It's rayther different then, you'll find-
So listen how the race was won.

Well, as I was plaiting th' old gal's mane
An hour or two before she ran,
In comes the guv'nor a'most insane—

says he,

"has claim'd Sam Mann:

"And Death,"*
And I don't know what to do nor try ;

There's no one here'll get seven stun-
And so we're floor'd."- « O, no," says I,

"The race ain't over till it's won.

"And 'spose they have schem'd it as you say;
It but natral seems in such a case
If a man won't have the mount to-day,
A boy, please sir, might take his place.
Two year I have been with Mignonette,'
Knows all her ways and all she's done-
Lor' love you sir, I wouldn't fret,

I'd take odds yet the race was won.

* "The gentlemen of the press" having originally set up death with a small d, induces me to add, for their especial edification, that the Mr. Death here alluded to is a highly respectable man, and a very clever trainer.-H. C.