the height and width of a leap taken by this or that Rosinante; so, in our brace of similies, you may map out the leaves of the flower, or mark the time of the music but the colour, and the harmony, where are they? "After a storm comes a calm:" in like manner, the first burst of a fox-hunt is generally succeeded by a check; a lucky incident to many of the field, whose sport would otherwise have been of short duration. The hounds are now very busy searching for the scent, and those who are close to them are not allowed to utter a syllable. Others, farther off, have the liberty of speech, and do not fail to make the best use of it. "A monstrous pretty scurry, Sir George.". "Yes; not bad.""How did you get over the brook, Jem!"—“Õh! rarely: how did you?""Did you see me clear the park paling?"'Aye; and did you see me go over the garden-wall?"-"What a devil of a tumble Jack Smith got over those hurdles!"--"Where'sJones?" -"I left him sticking in old Killbacon's bog.' "What's become of Brown?". "What Brown? that fat fellow in the yellow breeches?" -"Aye, old Weighty-Brown, as they call him."- "Oh! I don't know the last time I saw him he was running after his mare on Gorsebush Common." "Yowh! yowh!"—the scent is found again; and those who have dismounted, to ease their horses, have some difficulty in regaining their saddles; for the noble steeds are aware that the chase is going to be renewed, and are all anxiety to lead the way. Onward they press, helter-skelter, acting the old scene over again, and leaving Description, like a jaded hack, far away in the background. All we can do is to mount our aërial barb, the platehorse Pegasus, and meet them at the death of the fox. This takes place in the midst of a thick cover, five-and-twenty miles perhaps from the point of starting; or haply at the very point itself, returned to after a circumbendibus of indefinite dimensions; and some half dozen of red coats, with one or two blacks (for your parsons are usually famous fellows when they do hunt), are all that remain of that numerous array which gladdened the eyes of the dewy Aurora. The bottle-greens, and the olive-browns, and the navy blues, and the pepper-and-salts, have left the field this long while; most of them have had their dinner by this, and the rest are quite ready for it. Their horses are luxuriating in their oatmeal and water, and the grooms are listening to an exaggerated account of the day's sport. But to return to the death-dealing Nimrods, whom we left panting and wiping their brows in the faroff forest: they make short work of this last scene of all," the huntsman's "whoo-hoop" being all the ceremony poor fallen Reynard is thought worthy of. Formerly this period was honoured by an appropriate "flourish of trumpets,' a sort of death-blow, to appease the manes of dying vulpes: but things are changed now, and his limbs are distributed to men and dogs with as little compunction as a romance writer dismisses his characters in the last chapter of his third volume. The brush is crammed into the huntsman's hat; the pads are presented to anybody that will have them; the lips are cut off to adorn the stable door; and the remainder becomes the perquisite of the hounds. There is little pleasure in this part of the proceedings: the fox-hunter him- man (only with more sincerity), he As, balanced on its finny wing, SYLVANUS SWANQUILL. THIS is a very useful and instructive volume, containing in a small compass every thing (except practice) that tends to make a tyro a proficient in the art of shooting, while the chapters on the breeding of pointers and setters, the diseases to which they are liable, and the modes of cure, are worthy the attention of the practical sportsman. The following extract from the chapter on shooting will, we think, be interesting to both. "There is perhaps no amusement whatever, in which success is so anxiously desired, or so confidently anticipated, as that of shooting, by the young sportsman, on the approach of the 12th of August, or the 1st of September. It is a most fascinating recreation: A aware that the birds are under his nose, the tyro approaches the important spot with irregular step and palpitating heart-the dog is motionless as a statue-his master has advanced one step before him with such an increase of trepidation, as to be scarcely able to breathe-the awful stillness of a few seconds is interrupted by the sudden spring and screaming of the covey, and the shooter becomes so confused as to be incapable of levelling at any individual bird, and the whole fly away, leaving the sportsman much chagrined at the miscarriage. On the recurrence of several of these disappointments, the dog will become uneasy, and will not hunt with his wonted cheerfulness: the fall of the bird gives as much pleasure to the dog as to the shooter, and a capital dog, if no game be killed to him, will become careless, and eventually good for nothing. Practice, however, will soon overcome the obstacles just mentioned, and with an ordinary share of self-command, no person need despair of becoming a tolerable shot. By way of illustration, I will once more suppose the young shooter in the field with two dogs, he perceives one drawing on the scent and settling to a point, let him call out toho, holding up his hand at the same time: the word will induce greater care in the first dog, and if the other should not be aware of the game, he will immediately look about him, and seeing his master's hand will keep his position (no matter what his situation may be, either before or behind the shooter), or to speak as a sportsman, will back. I will suppose both the dogs perfectly steady-let the sportsman advance deliberately up to the setting dog, and if the game should not spring, let him go before the dog-if the birds should NO. VII.-VOL. II. run, instead of taking wing, he will be aware of the circumstance by the dog following; but if the dog follows or foots too eagerly, he should be checked by the words take heed. These are anxious moments, but the sportsman must nevertheless summon all his fortitude, and continue as calm as possible with his thumb on the cock; when the game springs, pull up the cock, select an individual object-if the bird flies straight forward it is a very easy shot; let the sportsman direct his eye down the barrel, and the instant he perceives the bird on a line with the muzzle, let him pull the trigger; in levelling, however, the aim should be directed rather above than below the object, for the shot, if correctly thrown, will form its centre from the centre of the muzzle of the fowling piece: nevertheless in this respect allowance must be made for the trim of the gun, or for the manner in which it throws the shot, with which I am supposing the sportsman perfectly acquainted, the elevated breech too will have considerable influence. If the bird should fly directly across, or only partially so, and thus describe the segment of a circle, the aim must be directed above the object; if with a common gun, four inches, with a percussion gun two inches, supposing the distance to be thirty yards. The average of shots is, perhaps, from twenty to thirty yards, though forty is quite within reach, and even fifty, particularly with a percussion gun. When the bird flies in the shooter's face as it were, or towards him, he should let it pass before he attempts to fire, or he will be most certain to miss. In what manner soever the object might present itself, I will suppose it comes down, and though D it should fall directly in view of your dogs they must not stir. The sportsman will direct his attention to the covey, and after marking down, will proceed to reload. At the commencement of the season, part of the covey will frequently remain; if, therefore, the dogs are not steady on the shot, mischief .must ensue. I would not suffer my dogs to follow a winged bird till I had re-loaded. I would much sooner lose the bird than injure my dogs, though very few winged birds will be lost with good dogs." We had intended giving another extract on the subject of grouse shooting, but find we have already outstepped the limits allowed for literary notices; we must therefore request our friends to purchase the work, and judge of its contents themselves, at the same time prophecying that they will not be disappointed with their bargain. The Coach Dinner. BY THE AUTHOR OF "A DAY WITH THE SURREY." "Rest traveller, rest, thy dinner's ready." DID'ST ever, Mr. Editor, consign horn plays a solo to our stomachs thy precious carcase to the especial care and protection of " a four inside and twelve outside coach, without luggage on the roof?" Or do the proprietors of the New Sporter keep thee thine own particular voiture, as they ought to do? Nay, be not ashamed-greater men than you have travelled by 'the stage, and now, with your permission, I'll conduct you to the most interesting feature in a day's *journey "A coach dinner." Where will you have it?-name your own place-yet stay; there's no occasion-we won't be personal, so let it be any where 'twixt Berwick and Brighton-any house you like; possessing a neat landlady inside, and having "Neat Wines, Neat Post Chaises," written up without. All huddled together, inside and out, long passengers and short ones, turning the sharp corner of the "High Street" the guard's And see from the arch door-way of the "Duke's Head" there issues two chamber-maids, one in curls, t'other in a cap; boots, with both curls and cap, and a ladder in his hand; the waiter with a duster in his to count noses. About the entrance the usual coach-gazers are assembled a coachman out of place, a beggar out at the elbows, three recruits with ribbons in their 'hats, a captain with corns, the coachman wot is to take the present one's place, and a youth with a small fortune, but large expectations. The latter is the idler of the place- -"the young man about town," and it being summmer time, he sports a green lined straw hat with flipes large enough to run donkey races round, a ribbon for a neckcloth, and gills à la Byron, thereby showing the terminations of the enormous fringes (as Queen Eliza beth called whiskers) that grace his leaden head. He wears a light fustian two-storied shooting jacket, into the lower apartments whereof his hands are stowed-sporting a blue rowing shirt-of course he needs no waistcoat-indeed it would conceal a long line of studs that grace the front, while two gold chains dangle together, keeping each other in order. He is a tarryat-home traveller, and looks with ineffible contempt upon the fools that every day pass through by the coach. " 66 you The little fellow just before him with the keen black eye and snubby nose, is the Paul Pry of the place. Three and thirty summers have elapsed since he retired from behind the counter on half pay, during which period he has never once missed seeing the "Independent' change horses. He knows every thing and every body. "Bless me, says he, "it was but yesterday gone a week, that Mr. Jenkins returned from London, and here he is again on his road. That legacy his uncle, the dry-salter, left him, has not been forthcoming I reckon. Guard," says he, have got Mrs. Tibbett's bonnetbox on again I see. Now if so be she's going to return it, that won't do, because we all observed her in it last Sunday as she flaunted up the middle aisle, and it will only be because she saw Lady Emily's was lined with green that she will have her's so too. Is there a party at the hall, that you are carrying more fish again to-day?" "Never you mind," says the guard, "but get out of my way, or I'll drop this chest upon your toes. You'r always standing in one's way, and never stand a drop of nothing.' But here comes the man of menthe varmint of the place, as the twist of his head and elbow in recognition of the coachman's salute testify. The height of his ambition is to be taken for a coachman, and in pursuance of so laudable a desire, he leaves no stone unturned to effect his object. As the coach pulled up he was in the bar taking a glass of cold sherry negus and a cigar, the former of which he quickly despatched, and with the latter in his mouth sallied forth, his shaved white hat stuck knowingly on one side, and the thumbs of his gloveless hands thrust into the arm-holes of his waistcoat, throwing the singlebreasted green coat, with metal buttons, onto its haunches. The rest of his apparel is in the most "correct form" (as he calls it); a pale cream-coloured neckcloth, with a diamond tye, a gold coach and four for a pin, a buff waistcoat with four pockets and metal buttons, leaving a great interregnum 'twixt it and the drab kersey trowsers, which terminate with buttons at the ankle. His appearance is best described by the term good-looking ill-looking fellow," for wherever nature has been at all bountiful he has spared no labour in attempting to neutralize the gift, and, with the exception of his whiskers, which are huge and riotous in the extreme, his hair is clipped as close as a charity school-boy's. His dialogue is short and slangy, accompanied with the nasal twang. "Y've got the old near-side leader back from Joe I see. "Yes, Mr. Banghup," said the coachman, "but I had sore work first-at last, says I to our horse-keeper, says I, its not to no use your harnessing that ere roan for me any more, for as how I von't drive him, so its not to no use harnassing of him, for I von't be gam a |