THE COCK AND THE FOX.

Engraved by J. T. WILMORE, from a Painting by T. STOTHARD, R. A.

WE feel great pleasure in presenting our subscribers this month with a subject from Chaucer by the distinguished artist who painted the Canterbury Pilgrimage. What has been said of Goldsmith as an author may, with equal truth, be applied to the late Thomas Stothard as a painter: "He touched nothing which he did not adorn." Our plate affords a specimen of his talents as an animal painter; and the style in which it is engraved by Wilmore is at once worthy of the painter's reputation and The subject, as we have said, is from Chaucer, and no words could describe it more truly than the verses of the poet. The picture and the poetry mutually illustrate each other.

his own.

"And so befell that as he cast his eye

Among the wortes on a boterflie,

He was ware of this fox that lay ful low.
Nothing ne list him thanne for to crow,
But cried anon cok, cok, and up he sterte,
As man that was affraied in his herte;
For naturely a beest desireth flee
Fro his contrarie, if he may it see,

Though he never erst had seen it with his eye.
This chaunteclere, when he gan him espie,
He wold have fled, but that the fox anon
Said, gentil sire, alas! what wol ye don?
Be
ye
affraid of me that am your frend?
Now, certes, I were worse than any fend,

If I to you wold harm or vilanie;

I n' am not come your conseil to espie;

But trewely the cause of my coming

Was only for to herken how ye sing.""-The Nonnes Preestes Tale.

February 12th. I arrived this day at Gask on my second visit to Lord Kintore, and found, among others, a promising young sportsman under his roof-Mr. Dingwall, of Bruckley, in Aberdeenshire, who had just eft Oxford, whence his horses had arrived by a steamer, apparently very little the worse for the voyage. Mr. Whyte Melville was expected, but was obliged to postpone his visit.

The next day was a hunting day, but it proved one of those "inauspicious days" on which, Somerville tells us in his "Chase," other cares. than hunting should employ our precious hours. However, we went to the place of meeting, and the following mem. appears in my book :— "Met at Graigstone. Found in Yonderton-gorse, a very Leicestershirelooking cover. After nearly half an hour he went away, and beat us for want of scent. Lord Kintore tried hard to catch him, by casting for some main earths, but finding that fail him he gave up his fox for lost. Drew another gorse blank; when as the piercing blast of Boreas blew' infernally strong, all agreed it would be better to go home and hunt again the next day. A strong field out for the country. Rode the Duchess." Saturday 14th. We had this day an agreeable addition to our party in the person of Captain Barclay, who arrived the evening beforeleather breeches and all. But the history of these breeches! Why I think it is unequalled in the history of all the breeches in the world. Five and thirty years ago they were made for, and worn by that celebrated character in the boxing world, Mr. Jackson; but having on their first appearance on Ascot-heath race course, attracted the notice and admiration of the Captain, for their apparently enduring qualities, they were purchased by him on the spot; and, unlike the galligaskins of the poet Philips,

"which long withstood

The winter's fury, and encroaching frosts,

By time subdued, (what will not time subdue!)
An horrid chasm disclose ;"-

are not only still unsubdued by time, but when newly cleaned, are still fit to appear at any cover in any country. And where is the cover, or what the country in which they have not appeared? And where the breed of bucks that furnished the skins of which they were made? And how were such bucks killed?-for surely their hides must have been bullet proof, if they were all as thick as those which composed the said memorable breeches. These interesting questions I am unable to answer; but there are the breeches any day to be seen, and the Captain assured us he considered them good for at least ten years to come.

We

"Do you

The fixture for this day was Dunlugas: found immediately in Mr. Leslie's new cover; ran very hard down it with a burning scent; the fox turned short back on his foil; could not stand it, and died. were here reminded of the run in the Quarterly Review. hear a whimper ?" said I, to Lord Kintore, "like the voice of a dog in a dream." It was just this; it was scarcely audible, but in a second or two, the same hound challenged and the fox was found. How well would it be if man were to use such caution-not to throw his tongue until he is sure he is going to speak truth.

We found a second fox in Burchas-wood. After a ring round the cover he went gallantly away, and up to a moss-say fifteen minutes -nothing could be finer. Over the moss beautiful to behold; but no getting near enough to hear their music. Went slap through the moss, however, to Pladie-wood, where he hung a little, and then faced the open again; but his heart failed; he headed short back and died. Twenty-seven minutes in all. Lord Kintore got an ugly fall at a brook, but being himself landed, he was up again in a crack, and with 'em before they got out of the same field.

Taking a peep into his lordship's hunting book, I was pleased with the following passage in the record of this day. "Nimrod out, who rode parallel with me, with his keen sharp eye on the hounds, apparently awake to every turn, and his soul in it." Then again: "Barclay ploughing away, and the promising young one (Dingwall) riding also to the hounds." I confess I was surprised at the pace the Captain's horse (a grey of very fine form, and an old favourite), carried him the burst, as it was first-rate, and many large fallows crossed, which are no jokes with such a weight as his. He was absolutely at one time fairly running away with him. But what will not blood and bone and the grooming of old William Cross achieve ! I again rode the Duchess. We had a party at dinner in the evening at Gask, and "passed a jovial night"the Captain in great force, giving us, in the very best style, his old friend Tom Marson's song of,

"I ride as good a galloway as any man in town;

He'll trot you sixteen miles an hour, I'll bet you half a crown;
He's sich a one to bend the knee, and tuck his baunches in ;
And to throw the dirt into your face, he never deems a sin."

Monday 16th. Met at Boynd's-mill. Drew Anchabar cover blank. Found in Tullow, and went away beautifully, but he turned short into Bog-side cover, a very large one, without rides, but with plenty of deer. Our huntsman finding he was not gone on, wisely left him, being aware of the allurement of the haunch, which is as grateful to a fox-hound, as to an alderman. We found again in Fortrie-gorse, and hereon hangs a tale. Lord Kintore wishing the fox to take a certain line, over a very fine country, ordered Philip to try and head him, but that was no go. "Forward," he went, where be listed, and made his point for Logg-hill cover, where, after a prodigiously sharp burst, a trifling check occurred. We, however, soon saw him break again, with about five couples of hounds on the scent, and here I saw our huntsman do, what it would be well for fox-hunting if it were oftener done than it is. "Get to their head, Nimrod, and stop 'em," cried Lord Kintore-blowing his horn back at the time, whilst he sent Joe to bring on the tail, who were still in the cover" let's have the body of hounds, or none.” And hence

the glorious sequel! We all succeeded in what we attempted; and a most brilliant half hour-forty-one minutes in all-with blood at the end, was the result. The finish was indescribably fine. The pack, in a body, ran into him on the banks of the Doveran river, just as he was on the point of crossing it, and I had the pleasure of being within twenty yards of him when he died, having been capitally carried by a mare Lord Kintore calls" Walker's mare," so called because purchased from the trump of that name, who hunts the Fife hounds. The brush was given to me, and is now in my view, with this label appended to it :— Forty-one minutes with Lord Kintore's hounds, in the Turriff country; very best pace, from first to last, with only one trifling check, and no cast."

Good as was the finish of the morning's sport, that of the evening was not readily to be beat. We all dined with Mr. Leslie, where we met a party of brother-sportsmen; and another peep into the Gask hunting book affords me an extract which best illustrates my meaning:-"The finish was to a wish, on the banks of the river Doveran-well earned blood in forty minutes. Dined at Dunlugas, with the honest-hearted Scotch squire. The pack hunted well and jovially together, and we passed a real good old-fashioned fox-hunting night." To me, however, this was a new-fashioned fox-hunting night, for I did what I never did in my life before I tumbled down in the drawing-room. But what of that? It only proves the truth of Jock Proctor's remark, that I am na mon for Scotland," in one respect.

66

Tuesday 17th. Lord Kintore, the captain, and myself, dined this day at Dalgety, the seat of the Hon. General Sir A. Duff, brother to the Earl of Fife, who did us the honour to come from Duff-house to meet us. Moreover his lordship brought with him something to amuse

and interest all the party. This was a lot of antique articles which had been a few days before dug up on the hill of Macduff; amongst which were a pair of bracelets and a spear head, and also some ear-rings, enclosed in an earthen jar, composed of what is called terra cotta, and supposed to have been placed where it was found for security, or perhaps as a votive offering to the manes of some illustrious person.

Our evening passed most agreeably, as indeed it could not fail to do in the society of two such lively companions as our host and his noble brother; but one circumstance of more than usual interest occurred, and particularly so to one like myself, -a stranger to the social system of the country; but one who is of opinion that the kindly influence of rank and fortune is never more powerful in its effects, than when extended to persons who have conducted themselves properly and faithfully in the capacity of confidential servants. It happened that on this

evening the principal keeper of the Earl of Fife, and who had been for a long series of years in the family, arrived at Dalgety for the purpose of seeing the earl, and the general ordered him into the dining-room, where a chair was placed for him by his side.

Here then was a fine subject for a painter, as well as a pleasing scene to the philanthropist ! Donald M.Kenzie-such was his name-with his long grey locks and ruddy countenance, which plainly denoted the nature of the occupation he had followed, placed in the seat of honour, and with a bumper of old port wine in his hand, pledging to his laird and the company in the full dialect of his nation, and evidently in the fulness of his heart. Nor did the agreeable interlude end here. Nothing could induce Donald to take a second glass of wine, such was the propriety of his feeling; and after relating an anecdote or two of his exploits, and answering some questions which were put to him, he made his bow and retired, although not until he had been heartily shaken by the hand, both by Lord Fife, by the general, and by Lord Kintoreas well.

Having spoken of old servants and in the sporting line, I must not omit the mention of one who is greatly entitled to my notice, being the oldest huntsman in Scotland. This is John Craick (commonly pronounced Crack), who hunted hounds in the Turriff country, almost ever since it was hunted at all; and for several seasons for the late Duke of Gordon, when Marquis of Huntley. Previously to my arrival in Scotland, indeed, I was told that I must see John Craick; and Lord Kintore took care that I should see him, by sending to invite him to Gask.

I

About an hour after dinner then, on one of the days I passed at Gask, and in the presence I believe of only Lord Kintore, Captain Barclay, Mr. Dingwall, and myself, John was ushered into the room, and seated by my side. His dress was just what it should have been-a red coat, a striped waistcoat, cord breeches and gaiters, and a white cravat, tied after the old fashion in a double knot, and confined to his breast with a shirt-pin, no bow being allowed in the strictness of this costume. Neither must the lower button of the waistcoat be in the button hole, to render the toilette complete. But now for John Craick himself. could soon perceive that he was not a Scotchman, but from a bordering county, and I think by the burr on his tongue, he claims either Cumberland or Yorkshire, his early history having escaped me. His figure was just what it should have been, to ride well over a country; and he had an eye in his head which looked as if Time could not greatly dim italthough I should say, that nearly eighty summers had rolled over his head before I saw him. John Craick's cup had not, I think, been "quaffed too quickly," neither was there "wormwood in the dregs," for he looked healthy and happy, although living, I fear, on a very small pittance in the town of