cover as fast as ever you can, and by all means get a view of the fox, for the sight of the warmint is a wonderful inducement to men to ride. And here let me observe, that you should not look a mile or two a-head, just as if you expected to see a helephant rolling away, but run your eye over the adjoining fields, taking off from the second or third from the cover, and extend your range till you see the long-tailed beggar himself, and you may keep holloaing and shouting till you're hoarse. Now's the time to stand erect in your stirrups !" cried Mr. Jorrocks suiting the action to the word, sticking out his rump, as though he were just going away with the hounds, and showing in the attitude more the parts of a man than the man of parts. "And now," continued he, " having got well away with the 'ounds, bob down your head, stick up your shoulders, keep tight hold of your reins with one hand, and carry your whip over your shoulder with a loose thong with the other, harden your heartsride like fun, and the devil take the hindmost!

"Now's the time that your 'oss, if he has any mischief in him, will assuredly show it, and the commonest occurrence is for him to run away. This is werry disagreable, as well as dangerous; and, as Geoffrey Gambado observes, when a man is well run away with the first thing that occurs to him is, how to stop his 'oss; but men by no means agree in their modes of bringing this matter about. Some, when out 'unting, will run him at a ditch, which is a werry promising experiment if he leaps ill, or not at all; others try a gate post, but it requires a nice eye to hit the centre with the 'osse's head, so as to avoid all risk of grazing your thigh or leg. Geoffrey says that Frenchmen (and the French, it seems, were as good riders in his time as they are now) will ride against one another, and that's well enough if two men are of the same mind, but I hold it to be unhandsome to charge a chap without some little notice. Upon the whole, however, after werry deep and mature deliberation, I may give it as my opinion that a good stiff newly-ploughed field is by far the finest thing for taking the nonsense out of a refractory nag. Therefore my adwice is, to get into one as soon as ever you can, and blob across ridge and furrow with a slack rein; and when your 'oss begins to sob, why give him a touch of the spur, and flank him well with your whip." Here Mr. Jorrocks showed how the punishment was to be performed on the rocking horse.

"To 'unt pleasantly, two things are werry necessary,—to know your 'oss, and to know your own mind. Now if you know your 'oss, and can depend upon him, so as to be sure he will carry you over whatever you put him at, have a good understanding with yourself before you come to a leap, whether you mean to go over it or not; for nothing looks so foolish as to see a man ride bang up to a fence, as if he would

eat it, and then swerve off for a gate, unless, indeed, it be to see a man charge wiggorously, and his 'oss, instead of leaping, stop suddenly, and chuck him, not only over his head, but over the hedge too. I'm no advocate for leaping, but there are times when it carn't be helped; in which case let a man throw his heart fearlessly over the fence, and follow it as quick as ever he can, and being well landed in the next field, thank Providence for his good fortune, and lose no time in looking about for the best way out. Thus he will go on from leap to leap, and from field to field; and having got well over the first fence, it is extonishing what confidence it gives you at the next. A tumble is an awful thing to contemplate! Just fancy a great sixteen hands 'oss lying on you like a blanket! My vig!-vere's the sherry white Binjimin?" Here Mr. Jorrocks took a glass of pale sherry, or rather sherry and water, to compose his nerves, which the thoughts of the fall had somewhat flustrated.

"I know nothing so comfortable in the middle of a run, as the sight of a line of gates parallel with the 'ounds, with a cart track through them which indicates that they lead to another road. Then's the time you may ride boldly, and throw the mud in your friends' faces, and holloa till all's blue. If you come first to a locked gate, in course you won't leap it, so dismount and try to lift it off the hinges; and having done so, just draw your 'oss between the gate and the post, so that no one can pass until you remount, and then scuttle away to the next. If any body else does it, particularly a youngster, manage to be second; and just as he throws the gate from him, slip by, thanking him, and saying-' I'm werry much obliged to you, sir.' When you see a chap fall, particularly at a needless leap, always have something pleasant to shout out, such as Holloa, sir! if you goes on that way you'll hurt the ground!' -or, 'Come here, sir, and I'll help you up!'-or, 'Would you like to have your 'oss now, sir, or vait till you catch him?' If you see a chap riding on his 'oss's neck, which is often the case after the nag has made a mistake at a leap, sing out, 'There goes a forward rider!' or,' I say, sir! are you Mr. Ducrow?' all which easy composure denotes the true sportsman.

"When the 'ounds come to a check-that is to say, when they lose the smell or scent of the fox-then is the time for the sportsman to make or mar himself in the estimation of the field. There won't be a man out but will give an opinion as to which way he has gone, and no two will agree in the line. Sport then an idea boldly-your's will be as good as their's; and if you are right, your fame is established. The next time you see them throw up,-I don't mean womit, mind, but throw up their heads on losing the scent,-just take off your hat and cap

them or at least such of them as will come to you-down the nearest hedge-row; and if by any chance you hit it off, oh my vig! but you'll be a werry great man. But my sherry white is done, and I'm getting dry. Let us then kill our fox gallantly and gloriously, as the Surrey 'ounds ever do; and let every man here, with a tongue in his head, join me in one long, loud, shrill, magnificent, soul-stirring WHOWHOOP!"

A tremendous explosion of noise followed this entreaty, which produced a second yell equally loud, and foxes' brushes and pads were showered at the worthy lecturer in profusion.

On the motion of Mr. James Green, senior-junior, seconded by Nodding Homer, an adjournment to Tom Cribb's, in Panton Street, was again carried, where the best parlour was in readiness, and nearly the whole of the company followed Mr. Jorrocks there, whooping and holloaing, and tally-hoeing as they went. On their arrival, Mr. Green mounted the table, and after paying sundry handsome compliments to the talents, sporting knowledge, amiability, and convivial powers of Mr. Jorrocks, concluded by moving a vote of thanks to him for his most instructive lectures, and by proposing that he should take the chair.

Nodding Homer seconded the motion; and Mr. Jorrocks having briefly acknowledged the compliment they had paid him, forthwith deposited himself in the chair, beneath the clock, and called for an imperial quart of their strongest draft port, an example that was immediately followed by the majority of the company, and, of course, by our reporter, whose notes of the toasts, speeches, and sentiments that followed, we lament to add, are so exceedingly short and illegible, and so bedaubed with the stains of wine, as to be perfectly useless; nor have we met with a single auditor whose memory will enable us to supply the deficiency. We regretted, however, to learn, on inquiring from Mr. Cribb's waiter, that towards the "little hours of morning," Nodding Homer, who is always on the look-out for "squalls," succeeded, after a very subtle speech, in inducing the company to agree to a proposition that "the richest man in the room should pay for all," and then cast the doubtful honour upon our esteemed friend, Mr. Jorrocks; and the reckoning was so heavy as not only to swallow up every fraction he had received at the door of his lecture room, but also eighteen-pence he had brought to pay his coach-hire home; and but from the fortunate circumstance of Binjimin having had a run of luck at a "pies all 'ot" man's tray, while his master was in the chair, by which he had won nine-pence in cash, besides what he eat, "in all humane probability," as Mr. Jorrocks observed, "he would have had to walk home."

ODE EXPOSTULATORY TO "SIR ANDREW."

BY SYLVANUS SWANQUILL.

Sir Andrew Agnew! oh thou scourge of sinners!
Thou legislator against vice,

And nice

Hot sunday dinners!

What shall we do,

Now thou art gone

thou and Sir Oswald* too

To make men fast and pray

Each seventh day?

Who shall save us from sin's burning embers-
Now that we have lost our two old Marrowbone members?

But, seriously, Sir Andrew, do you think
There's so much harm in meat and drink?
That a hot steak

If so, begin, sir, with the rich: ask these

To give up their ragouts, and stews, and fricasses.
I guess they'd think your application rather strange.
But if you will

Work out your bill,

Believe me, you must take a wider kitchen range.

Then sir, you think it wrong
In 'buss or cab to ride along

The streets,

Intent on rural treats

At Hampstead, Sydenham, or Turnham-green;
But have you never seen

The crowd

Of lords and dames mounted on palfreys proud,

* Sir Oswald Mosley, late M. P. for North Staffordshire, who lost his election, it is said, for having seconded Sir Andrew's bill.

That fill

Hyde Park o' Sundays? I dont wish to teaze,
But, Sir, for riders such as these

There ought, I think, to be a rider to your bill.
No doubt it's very wrong, and shows but little nous
To go a tea drinking and making merry

At th' Eagle, Rosemary Branch, or Yorkshire Stingo,-
Chalk Farm's as vile, by Jingo!

There's something very black about White Conduit House;
Jack Straw

Is but paw paw;
Richmond is sad ;

And Twickenham as bad;

And Hampton Wick is very wicked,-very.
But, Sir, excuse the freedom of my pen,
D'ye think that they

Who spend the day

At Tatt's, in laying wagers
On Derbys, Oaks, and Legers,
Are better-men?

And then the Clubs !-where gambling of all kinds,
And vices such as daylight never saw,

Are carried on behind cast-metal blinds-
For these, Sir, can't you frame some new Club Law?

Then, Sir, I know

You vote rat-killing low,

And wouldn't sit

For worlds in the Westminster Pit:

Then Music drives you mad:
And Scotchman though you be,
I know

You wouldn't suffer even a Scotch-fiddle;
And as for "Down the middle,"

And such-like tricks of gay Terpsichore',
I've often heard you say they're quite as bad;
And that all persons merit a sound whipping
Who are found' tripping.'
Apropos-

How you'd be shocked in France,
To see, Sir, a whole country dance!

Mind! I dont say but that all this is wrong:

But is it worse, Sir, than the Sunday song

NO. LXXIX.--VOL. XIII.

2

་