peat, seems to me "as insipid as boiled veal," as Suckling says in the play. If I had the fortune to hunt in such a country as that your Frenchified artist at least in name-has taken on him to depict, I should just reverse the order of things, in this wise: I'd send my thorough-bred hack-Ivy, by Taurus-on to cover-if you can call that a cover where you generally find your fox in a bunch of gorse about as big as a chapple; I'd send her on, and lark my hunter over the gates and stiles to the meet. With such an arrangement, I might in time reconcile myself to their fashion. Here I am with the Ivy green"-green as grass as far as the "lapes" are interested— but with a long, low, even action that will take to their game like a kitten to milk. We won't say anything about the impedimenta, because, if they were to come, I should be like my friends here right and left, and fight very shy of their acquaintance; so in the meanwhile we may give Mr. Screwdriver a trial gratis as we "go for speed" over the flat, or egg on the Honourable Master Longshank's already-unmanageable Bucephalus to make ducks and drakes of the United pack, as he rushes headlong into the middle of them. Some great authority-it must be Nimrod-has left it on record that men get behind-hand more from a disinclination to gallop than jump; but, for my part, I can't believe it. Few, to be sure, except Welsh squires well primed with Welsh ale, will go full tilt down a place as straight as a precipice; and I can fancy a weak-minded man, on a hard-pulling, boring horse, having some horror of very deep ridge and furrow. Take the locus in quo, however, as Ilsley Downs, Salisbury Plain, or any bowling-green ground of that texture, and I don't see how you can help it. Horses must go then as well as hounds; and though the latter may run away from the butcher's galloway or baker's servant-of-all-work, fancy the body of the field being headed by a lad from Isaac Sadler's stable, on a nag too bad for the turf and never good enough for the chase. Such a system may suit you, Mr. Editor, or more possibly "one of the most spirited engravings we have enriched our Magazine with for some time," but it never can those with whom strong swish-at-able raspers and "queer places" are the only true and proper tests of a sportsman's excellence or at least the chosen ordeal of Your most obedient servant, "ONE OF THE FOREMOST FLIGHT." MOSES AND ALBEMARLE. ENGRAVED BY H. BECKWITH, FROM A PAINTING BY J. W. GILES. "Ladies and Gentlemen,-You have seen the course from end to end, and I hope there is no difference of opinion as to what won it. The white dog had perhaps just the best of it at the first turn; but the other out paced him at every point afterwards. It was a splendid run from slip to kill, and-"Black wins.'" "Mr. Jonas Webb, your good health, Sir!" "Mr. Webb, I wish you joy of your-" and "Mr. Webb, allow me to congratulate you on your success; let me, in so doing, add our general wish that you may soon become as celebrated on Swaffham Downs as you long have been at Smithfield Club (hear, hear)." "Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen,-It is, I assure you, difficult indeed for me to respond to your too flattering introduction of my name and pursuits in the manner I could wish. As regards my claim to appearing with the conqueror's chaplet on this occasion, it is but small indeed. The leash from my hands has never yet received that honour it should, having been, in fact, hitherto used rather for occasional and private amusement than in any possible presumption to public name and fame. Touching the other breed of animal to which you, Mr. Chairman, have been pleased to allude in proposing my health, I can only say this: that though our friend Mr. Owen Edwards has by the course this morning lost "the rump and dozen" to which we are now doing justice, I trust you will give the victor his turn, and the beaten man his revenge, to-morrow. If you will then do me the honour to take your mutton with me, I think I may venture to affirm I can offer you as fine a haunch as a good sportsman or good fellow ever cut into" (loud cheers). Coursing, as Mr. Webb has just observed in his neatly-turned "return," is of two kinds-public and private; and although we have dignified our print with the names of the two competitors, it is still a subject that belongs rather to the latter and more unpretending. Moses and Albemarle, however good sounding names in the abstract, have no especial importance attached to them "in these presents, and so we shall spare ourselves and our readers the trouble of searching Thacker for pedigree and unrecorded performance. The white dog, Albemarle, did appear once, we believe, but very "long, long ago," when he was soon left out for a puppy stake at Newmarket. He is the property of Owen Edwards, Esq., of Chesterford; a gentleman who, according to our artist's report-for we have not the pleasure of a personal acquaintance-is generally and justly esteemed for his hospitable, manly, and many other good qualities. Moses, as we have already hinted, dates his dispatches from Babraham, the residence of Jonas Webb, Esq., that celebrated and unequalled breeder of Southdowns, who, if not as well known in these pages as he should be, takes first-class honours at cattle-shows, R. A. societies, and farmers' clubs. The courteous reader or spectator will accordingly be polite enough to remember that this plate embodies a scene from quiet-or considering the kill, we might say still-life, which courts no care from the critic. Just one of those friendly meetings where we settle the running off, the price of corn, and the rate of labour, all in fair turnwhere good humour and fellowship give character to the proceedings -and consequently, where, should a decision be settled a little out of rule, there is no withdrawing names and support, or fighting it out with the unhappy judge, for six Sundays running, in Bell's Life. The dons, perhaps like our friend of the foremost flight, may count it a little slow; but we have too many advocates for sport without ostentation, and "rural pastimes in all their varieties," to fear the bewailings of so select a party, THE HAND-BOOK OF THE CHASE. BY THE EDITOR. (Continued.) THE HOLIDAY HUNTS. "Cui sit conditio dulcis sine pulvere palma."-Horat. If it be objected against Brighton, Bath, Leamington, Cheltenham, and such like places, that they are expensive head-quarters for sporting, hear what old Flavius says above. There is nothing, upon his authority, to be done in the Olympic way "without the dust;" which is the literal as well as the figurative interpretation of "sine pulvere," according to our reading. It's a pity that cheap and nasty should be synonymous terms; but so it is, and we must take things as we find them. Are they likely to be better or worse? "There's the rub." The tide of the chase, it is to be feared, is not now in the flood that leads to fortune. Here and there it gets its turn of good luck; but rather as the exception than the rule. Melton is in the ascendant; but many of the good old countries are on the wane. Take, for example, the Union ; once the pride of the suburban districts. Next year that extensive country will only be hunted twice a week, because the subscription could only be made eight hundred a year. For two hundred more the master offered three days a week; but the sinews of war were wanting. Now the Surrey Union country cannot be half hunted at two days; and it was mooted whether it might not be better to give up a portion of it to the surrounding hunts, but this was very wisely overruled. Better days may come, and then it would be found as impossible to increase sport for want of a scene to enact it on, as now from scarcity of funds to carry it on-as was the wont. Not very far from the Union another good establishment is to undergo a change: Captain Haworth resigns the H. H......... Hampshire might better spare many of her men. He is a sportsman in the truest reading of the word: made for a M. F. H., a sound kennel and field huntsman, a capital horseman, and well found in the suaviter in modo. One cannot part with this division of merry England without a melancholy anticipation of what the railroad system must very soon accomplish for its rural character. The South-Western trunk line has recently put forth its branches in posse; which, when all about being tried shall be executed, sentence of death will be done upon one of the fairest of the metropolitan hunting countries. But will human credulity pander to these schemes? Between the Kingston and Esher stations of this line and the Thames, there lies a sylvan valley, known as Weston Green; on the opposite side of the river stands Hampton Court. Now, one of the branches aforesaid is to consist of |