"Well," say you, " I delight in knowing what my friends in Northamptonshire are about, but why need you make your account so confoundedly prosy? You never tell one of a tumble; in fact, I begin to think they never occur. Nobody dresses amiss; no gentleman puts his spurs on upside down; there are no outrageously stiff neckcloths; no be-gemmed and be-jewelled gentleman to be met with in your part of the world. Yours is a very nice pudding, but you've forgotten all the spice." Why, that is being censorious; and, as I said before, if any one gets hold of these matters, or any posthumous publication takes place, I'm in the hole. "No, no," say you again; "censoriousness and ill-nature are the attacking individuals; the personality of the thing makes it offensive but attack a whole class, reform the whole squadron, and you'll amuse every living soul at his brother's expense. Have I not done so ? Who is the Hon. Aug. Fitzfaddle? who is Jack Trumpington? do you know him?-because I don't. I know a hundred or two of each, but I don't know any one of them individually-I am a wholesale dealer. I know, as well as you, that every field is made up more or less of old women, sportsmen, and riders; but then it would never do for me to point out one unfortunate old woman, and hold him (her-I beg the sex's pardon) up to ridicule; give a general notion of what a scarletcoated, leather-breeched old woman is, and the whole lot will complacently attribute the picture to his dearest friend, and exclaim, "How like!" And, what is more to be desired, each will be amused and instructed; endeavouring to conceal for the future any symptoms of anility, which a moment's humility may have detected in themselves. Now, I'll give you an idea of what I mean: a young gentleman, hunting with a crack pack of hounds, from London, by means of the railroad, was induced to bring a little too much of London into the country with him. Transplantations from Cockneydom thrive not in a colder soil. A cap, of course; a drab-coloured neckcloth literally supported his head, with a fall-not of his head, but his neckcloth-à la Ginger. A fox-tooth, crossed by a golden brush of sufficient magnitude, swept his breast. A waistcoat, guiltless of a wrinkle, of the same colour as his neckcloth, reached nearly to his loins; leathers, that he must have been made for, buttoned a trifle too much in front; and boots, which might with advantage have transferred some of their wrinkles to his waistcoat; with a single-breasted pink, and an enamelled watch chain, completed his equipment. A soupçon more of curl in his whiskers would have pulled them off entirely. A grey horse (which colour my friend P.P. says is getting fashionable, and he means buying) took nothing from the brilliancy of his appearance: he was the very "pine-apple" of perfection. But he went a "good 'un:" he cut out his own work, and did it. This, in the hunting field, is sufficient excuse for anything: "go well" is the first rule; "dress well"-and how difficult in the field!-is the second. A contributor to certain sporting papers and periodicals took an early opportunity of describing a mock run, in which our young gentleman figured with all his imitators (for he has them— the style is catching). He had full credit given him for going well; it was only to be lamented that so good a sportsman internally was not one externally too. What did our friend? He read the magazine aloud to his friends: he failed to recognise his individual portrait; for there were more of them in the world, and he had assuredly never seen

the run described. He laughed at the chains and neckcloth, and admired the pluck and sportsmanship of the hero; and the next time he came out he had dropped the chain, and loosened his leathers: by degrees the neckcloth disappeared, and with it the pin, until at length the most fastidious could complain of nothing but his whiskers. Thus, you must select the peculiarities of an individual to correct the errors of a whole class. This man might or might not exist as a whole, sufficient that he had the distinguishing features of a class. Sportsman is a noble title in its true sense; but I doubt whether Mr.

or Lord

would be glad to see themselves personally in print as the representatives of even so noble a body as that: they would prefer to take qualities which they enjoyed in common with good men. I know many

a "hard rider," who, however proud he may be of his steeple-chase whip, and the way he clears himself by a gate or a bullfinch from the crowd, would be sorry to be made the "riding stock" for his rivals, though he may be much flattered by an acknowledgment of his presence, ἓν προμάχοισι.

And now, my dear fellow, I shall bid you adieu, feeling satisfied that, should my remarks fall into other hands than they are intended for, the most susceptible of ridicule will be unable to turn them into personality. You want a true and correct account of our doings in this part of the world: you shall have them, as interesting to a lover of the finest hunting country in England; and when instruction or amusement can be added without offence or sacrifice of truth in detail, depend upon the industry of Yours, &c.,

Feb. 4, 1847.

THE PROFIT AND LOSS.

BY THE OXONIAN.

SCRIBBLE.

A man that's born and bred a sportsman can't help feeling proud of it. I should think it was so all the world over, as I am sure it is here. A man that has "a propensity" must show and suffer for it sooner or later. I should think it was so with all, as I am too sure it has been with me. At school it came out, as the M. D.'s say, pretty kind on me. Derby winners all off by heart, foxes' brushes always to be found in the play-box, and a tolerably good recollection of last Christmas's equestrian performances, brought me a proper share of reverence that a change in the sovereignty of the County Hounds did everything to establish. A new master for the hounds brought a new boy for the doctor. The new boy's father was a friend of my father; and the next saint's day saw a pair of us off for the kennels, big in white cords and cover hacks. That did it outright; his father kept hounds, my father kept race-horses; and certainly if ever the proper qualification for a sportsman brought becoming dignity with it, here we enjoyed it in full force. Everybody bowed down before it; fellows whose mothers and sisters went to court every time the court went itself; long-pedigreed

gentlemen with uncles in "the Lords;" young Pluti, with family fortunes in the Indies-all alike sung small before our rather overdone terms and technicalities. The very masters occasionally "opened" on it; and the action of quadrupedante putrem, the force of sunt quos curriculo, or anything of that sort, generally ended in coming to us for an authority, or an example. We had all the pride of the sportsman here, and, upon my life, I really believe, without ever having once suffered for the propensity.

My "hobbydyhoyish" days followed suit about as naturally as could be expected. For fidus Achates I won't answer, as he started to stifle his early impressions amongst the rajahs and tigers. For self, however, the Fates were propitious. At nineteen, I subscribed to the "Calendar," and studied the "Stud Book.' At two-and-twenty, I could handicap horses-aye, and weigh them well too. The propensity began to develop itself in earnest; and as fast and firm as ever came the love of "a bit of coaching" across some of us, came the desire for "a bit of plating on me.

"Nice, quiet, clean little place this, waiter-market-town, tooisn't it?"

"Oh dear, yes, sir; corn and cattle market every Saturday, and butter and egg market every Wednesday as well." "Ah! indeed; and any sport too?"

"Beg pardon, sir,-any what?"

66

Any sport-any racing?"

"Racing, sir! Races every autumn; two days sir; balls and ordinaries held at this house, sir; very capital sport indeed, I'm told, sir. Got the bill in the bar, sir; perhaps you'd like to see it."

And away goes the waiter, and back he comes again with what he calls "the bill of sport" in one hand, and the Tally-ho sauce in the other. Shows what it is to be a sportsman; how the pride will out, and the propensity-as a bill of another sort will no doubt tell us to-morrow morning-suffer for it. Sportsmen hold a very high, liberal kind of character; and landlords always do their part to make them work up to it.

But to get back to my individual propensity-the bit of plating-the start for which was hardly as good as I had counted on. Two legs-or rather, to be correct, as he'd only three when we "claimed" him-a leg and a half on the sly in a hurdle jumper was the way it broke out in. "To pay half the expenses and have half the profits"-with that most sagacious insertion "if any"-was the agreement; to pay all the expenses, and have no profits, more like my actual part in it. The Co. in the concern, who managed, trained, and rode "Daring Ranger " himself, had got a name for doing things rather close; a vulgar notion which our "account," I must say, did much to belie. Everything, from weights and scales, to boots and chambermaid, had been done en prince. So astounding, indeed, sounded the sum total, that when my friend, in something like a fit of offended dignity, offered to take my share of the nag for my share of the bill, I jumped at once at the exchange, and let him in, in a moment, as "sole proprietor." Of course the only plan for bettering this was to stop up the propensity altogether, or to have a plater all to myself; and of course everybody can give a tolerably good guess as to which of the two events was the more likely

to come off first. From a very worthy man-a public trainer, who lived in the neighbourhood, I learnt that nothing was so likely to answer as a little racing in a quiet way, in support of which opinion (I suppose) he called my attention to the case of one Captain Sullivan. The captain, a patron of a little racing in a quiet way, and my Mentor's establishment in particular, followed it up till it followed him to Dover; and then the same paper which announced his departure for the continent, also contained an intimation to this effect—that if a certain Captain S. did not take away his mare "the Mountain Maid," and pay her expenses at the same time, she would be sold forthwith to pay them. Considering how many there would have been too happy to take the captain himself, it was by no means extraordinary to find he paid no attention to this piece of courtesy, and as he didn't, I did the expenses. Changing her colours, but not her quarters, the Mountain Maid commenced her fourth year and second season in my name.

And an exciting season we had of it too! The way Sam Mann used to sit down and grind his teeth at my poor filly was something awful to see, and the heart with which she continued to answer him, something wondrous to look upon. "Game little animal that, sir, as ever was stripped;" and so she was certainly if you came to that; but that wasn't all. Second, second, and second, without end; nothing better, or as some knowing gentlemen affirmed, nothing worse. Had there ever been such a thing in classic story as a female Tantalus, I should certainly have insulted the captain by changing her name; but as I believe there is not, on we went, day after day, and week after week, running for every heat and everything. The round of rather shy meetings we visited that summer, had they possessed one grain of gratitude, would have clubbed up for a handsome testimonial in return for the vast addition to their sport our presence had occasioned. As it really happened however, they didn't; and so, with a very spotless, profitless, maiden reputation, we wound up the year with one try more close home. Here, mirabile dictu! amidst the shouts of our friends and relations, and the very audible hisses of Mr. Mann, the Mountain Maid did manage to win -a heat-the first heat-and to spring a sinew-a back sinew-in the second. Having achieved this agreeable surprise, she hobbled back to nurse, leaving her "worthy owner," as they called him at dinner, with some fearful forebodings touching those travelling expenses he had already had a taste of. "Entry here, "Entry here," "stake there," paid to jockey," &c. &c., with all the entertaining sundries of "self and lad," over and over again. If they have only had the taste too to do it en prince, the propensity to suffer for will come "all his own" with a vengeance!

The fortunes of this day, though, didn't end here, for I had found out another propensity quite as difficult to conquer as even a bit of plating. I was hit hard again; aye, and by a pair of black eyes that I had passed over a hundred and fifty times before. But then," the sweet sympathy" is the very secret of love after all; and to meet those sparklers all sparkle as the Mountain Maid ran home something like a clever winner in number one, and to mark them shaded over as she crept in something like a break down in number two, was more than enough for me. They were so glad, and then so sorry; the gratulation and consolation followed so fervidly, I couldn't but feel it; and opportunity came so aptly, I couldn't but follow up what I felt. My racing was over, for that year

at any rate; and it would be still some time yet ere my half-hack, halfhunter, came into the more worthy half of his work; nothing for it, then, but to indulge the propensity, and so away we went according-ly. A fairer match-maker, I will say, though she's looking over my shoulder, and thus gets the pull on the editor, never was needed; and by the first Monday in November, as they date it at Melton, I fancied we were getting to something like terms.

"Butter'd on both sides ?" "Yes."

“Will you marry me?"

And here, according to all the rules of common delicacy, our sweet sympathy came to a bit of a check, which was still got tolerably well over with an appeal that must be made to " my aunt. This, though, was more than I'd prepared for; and good-collar'd one, as I flattered myself to be, I confess I couldn't "come again so early as that; so the end of it was that Emmy must ask herself. Now the idea of a man to a maiden aunt is always dreadful enough any how; but when that man came to be singled out as "the Oxonian," it was all U. P. in a minute.

"No, my dear girl-no! If you have any regard for my good opinion (i. e. any hopes of the little Pontybwnbyllyn estate)-I am sure you'll think no more of him. No chance of happiness to be had with such a husband as that.

Hearing this wholesale condemnation, Emmy naturally began to whimper a little, and to "know the reason why?"

"William's very steady, aunt; he doesn't drink, you know.”

No-not yet, perhaps; that's a vice that's more common after than

before marriage; but it isn't that." ***

"And he goes to church every Sunday morning."

1.

Oh! yes, miss; I can see people in church as well as you, I hope; though, perhaps, without looking so constantly at them. It isn't that." "And he doesn't swear, dear aunt.”

"Except, to be sure, when he was very violent in his protestations to me, and that

"Thank Heaven, I'know nothing at all about."

And then came the cigars, and as it wasn't that " either-not his drinking, smoking, swearing, or church-going-Emmy became a little more confident, offered to "give it up," and at length, pressing the old lady rather closely, got out the grand secret in these words :

--

"He keeps a race-horse, Miss Emma; and in my opinion a man that keeps a race-horse will very soon find he can't keep a wife."

That was a stopper certainly; and the old woman gave it out as if she thought so too. If I'd been ruined by railroads, or found guilty of forgery, there might have been hopes; but "he keeps a race-horse" was too much. Poor Emmy shut up shop in half a second, and was as jealous as possible of our mutual acquaintance--the Mountain Maid -the next time she saw me. Evidently it was a "to be or not to be;" and deeply engaged as I was, and somewhat staggered with our summer's run, of second-rate success, no wonder I soon struck under.

P