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practised to regard clusters of horsemen, constitute them the best judges of such matters: as to counting a field of sportsmen, it is not on the cards, unless they were all to pass through one gate, or gap. But the most extraordinary incidents relating to this memorable day, consisted in the immense distances travelled by persons to witness the proceedings of it. For example: one gentleman came from Shrewsbury, travelling, at least, 150 miles by the route which he chose. I am sorry I have forgotten his name, as I should have been glad to have it in my power to record so striking an instance of zeal in the good cause of fox-hunting.

That some fun was the result of this day's proceedings, is only natural to imagine; and the following is far from being amiss. One of the means employed by Mr. Smith to keep his field in order, has always been the little monosyllable Hi, three times repeated, and with not an inaudible voice. "HI, HI, HI!" exclaimed he, at one period of this memorable day, to some too-aspiring a youth; when a sporting farmer, who had been accustomed to the sound, in former days, thus addressed Mr. White: "There is the old 'Hi, hi!' sir; but not quite with the usual hemphasis to-day;" as much as to say, our old master is on his good behaviour to-day. And I can relate an anecdote of former times, in reference to the "hold hard" system of this eminent sportsman. On one occasion the "Hi, hi!" failed in having the desired effect, and Mr. Smith let fly a d--n at about a dozen of his field, who were pressing his hounds at the moment, one of whom was the facetious Lord Alvanley. "Well," exclaimed his Lordship, "he has given us goose, but (pulling up his horse, and looking around him at the instant) one d-n amongst a dozen won't hurt us much."

What is called sport-that is, a fox handsomely found; suffered to get well away; the hounds to settle well to the scent, and to have fair play afterwards, until they beat the fox, or the fox beat them-was not to be looked for on such an occasion as this; but enough was done to convince that portion of the crowd who know what hunting is, that there was a pack of hounds in the field, clever to look at, handy in their work, and requiring nothing but a good fox and a holding scent to have given the horses, as well as their riders, a bellyful. It was the general opinion, however, at Melton, that it was a fortunate circumstance that what is called a holding scent was not the order of the day, inasmuch as dire would have been the disasters, both to man and horse, and, most probably, to hounds, had an hour's run been the result. As it was, there was enough-what with the short scurry from Vowe's Gorse, and the something more than canters from one cover to another-to shew off Mr. Smith and his style to the admiring crowd. Mr. Gilmour, indeed, to whom Mr. Smith, in the field, was, up to this time, a stranger, assured me he was never more struck, or more delighted, with any exhibition of the like nature that he had witnessed, than with Mr. Smith's style of crossing a country with hounds. "His seat," said he, "is a peculiar one; but the manner in which he puts his horses at their fences is beyond all praise." And, bad as was the day's hunting, he had an opportunity of observing this fine workmanship of Mr. Smith, by a mere casual circumstance, quite independent of the run-if run it could be called. Thinking there was no fox in Shankton Holt, Mr. Smith requested his

old friend and brother clipper over a country, Mr. White, to start off, at a pretty good pace, to Norton Gorse, he himself having forgotten the nearest line. Away went Mr. White, and away went Mr. Smith and his pack in his wake; half the field supposing that a gallant fox had gone away, with a breast-high scent. Several strong fences being in the way, several falls were the result; and it was now that Mr. Gilmour-who, of course, could command the pace-had the opportunity of observing the fine horsemanship of the great lion of the day -"Le grand chasseur d'Angleterre," as Napoleon Bonaparte called

him.

To return to the Old Club. I was delighted by having an hour's talk with Mr. Smith, on sundry matters relating to past and present times, and, amongst them, kennel lameness, from which he has suffered so much since he has hunted Hampshire; as well as the means which he has taken to get rid of it; a subject that will be alluded to, by me, hereafter. We also touched upon the abominable and unsportsmanlike practice of steeple-chasing, which he most unequivocally condemned; and agreed with me, that horses must be destroyed in them, by the rapid manner in which they are ridden at all kinds of fences. "Who," said I to Mr. Smith, "has ever ridden over more and larger fences than you yourself have done? but who ever saw you ride very fast at a fence, unless it were a brook?" His answer to this question was an admirable one, and quite in character with the man: "I don't ride fast at fences," said he; "but if I suspect there is anything serious, which requires an extra spring, I put in some ponder, the last twenty yards." No man can do this better than Mr. Smith; very few, indeed, so well; and it was in the mouth of every one who had never seen him cross a country before, that his style of putting his horse at a fence, together with his seat-a particularly loose one, by the way, which is extraordinary, and does not accord with the general idea of fine horsemanship-is as unique as it is effective.

I must repeat one more question and answer, during this, to myself, very interesting hour. "I have heard it asserted," said I, "that you have been heard to say, the best hunter you ever rode in Leicestershire, was the least. Is such the case?—and, as I knew almost all your horses, will you tell me which was the one alluded to?" "Your informant," replied Mr. Smith, "was mistaken; the best horse I ever rode was Young Jack-a-Lantern, who stood fifteen hands three inches." "Was he better than the old horse, his father?" I asked. "Decidedly so," he said; "he could go faster and longer; and his sister, Charlotte Lantern, was likewise very good." Now, I was not sorry to hear this avowal from Mr. Smith's own lips; because I have heard too much said, in my time, in praise of little horses over big ones, as hunters. It is true, Tom Thumb, a small horse, ridden many years by Mr. Smith, was very good; so was Mr. Cooke's The Pony; the Nuneaton tanner's mare; Lord Howth's Slug-all good over Leicestershire; but they are nothing less than exceptions to the general rule-raræ aves in the land. I maintain, and shall ever maintain, that for Leicestershire, Northamptonshire, Rutlandshire, Warwickshire, in short for nineteen countries in twenty, hunters should stand from fifteen hands two inches to sixteen hands; and they must not only have substance, and, consequently, weight, but length of frame, called, in stable phrase

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ology, scale, or they cannot command, or break through, strong blackthorn fences, and go the pace as well.

The mention of horses, by the way, reminds me that I have another remark or two to offer, applicable to this part of my subject. The practice now, amongst the Melton men, and other good judges of the animal, is to measure horses around their girth; and the notion prevails-justly founded, I admit, although not infallible-that unless a horse measures full six feet in the circumference of this part, he cannot carry thirteen stone, at Leicestershire speed, after hounds. It may be remembered that great depth of girth has always been insisted upon by me, as essential to good wind; and I have instanced several cases of deep but narrow horses shining under heavy weights; whereas broad but shallow ones in their girth never could so distinguish themselves. Look at Lottery, for example-the famous steeple-race horse; certainly, one of the wonders of the present day! He is the deepest horse, for his size, I ever remember to have seen; and thus is his fine wind, under exertion the most distressing that a horse can be called upon to perform, to be accounted for. 1 wish the proportions of this horse may be accurately developed, either during his lifetime, or by his skeleton, after the manner of the post mortem development of Eclipse. Then I have another story about a horse. That Mr. Smith should feel up in his stirrups, after the flattering testimony paid to him, as a sportsman and gentleman, by all descriptions of persons, on what might almost be called his "triumphant entry" into his old country, with his hounds, is only what might have been expected; and the following off-hand act at once affords a proof how the barometer of his spirits was affected. Walking into Lord Rosslyn's stable, he fixed his eye upon one individual horse. "This is a clever horse," said he; "will you sell him?" "Yes," answered Lord Rosslyn, "for 400." "I will give you 350 for him," resumed Mr. Smith. "No," quoth my Lord. "Let me see him stripped," continued our hero. "He is mine," was the climax. But the history of this horse does not end here. Mr. Smith rode him the next day with the Belvoir hounds; and he was the occasion of some mirth to the lookers-on, although it might have been no joke to his rider. In the second field after the hounds had settled to their fox, when going at fair speed, this immense horse-for he is a good deal above sixteen hands high-put his foot into a grip, and, by blundering a little forward before he could recover himself, occasioned the spur of Mr. Smith to touch his side; in return for which, he kicked him off, over his head. Luckily he was not hurt; and remounting his horse again, as soon as he was caught, in which no time was lost, he was in a front place again in a few fields' length, where he remained to the end of the run, which was just half an hour. The horse carried him well; but, being so much more of a horse than those he has been generally accustomed to ride, I afterwards heard he did not mean to keep him, fine animal and good hunter as he has every appearance of being.* But, as Mr. Smith himself observed, men who

It would be observed that the horses Mr. Smith brought into Leicestershire, on this occasion, were all horses of size and power; by some supposed not to be well adapted to what are called the Hampshire Downs. The fact is, Mr. Smith's present country consists, in part, of two very strong vales.

ride to hounds, and especially, added he, at a certain time of life, should always purchase horses they think will carry them well; masters of hounds, above all; on the old principle, that, if they don't do for the parson, they may do for the clerk; in other words, if they don't suit the master, they may suit their men. And, after all, what is such a sum as the one above-named to the owner of Llanberis slate-pits, and thousands of dirty acres as well? Not a feather in the balance. In the course of the half-hour alluded to, that thorough-bred veteran sportsman, Lord Delamere-another Nestor of the day-got an awkward fall, when going in his usual place; but he escaped unhurt.

Tuesday, 24th. Met Lord Lonsdale's hounds at Coles Lodge. Found in Tilton Wood, and killed at the end of a very smart twentythree minutes; best pace up wind, over a magnificent country. Found again; supposed to be a heavy vixen; hunted her slowly down wind to ground; but Lambert (the huntsman) would have killed her if he could have done so, owing to complaints from farmers of loss of lambs. Neither were these complaints groundless. Mr. Greene, of Rolleston, whose property we ran over, told me his tenants, as well as himself, had had many lambs destroyed. But there are few countries that can better afford the loss of a heavy vixen, than that of the Earl of Lonsdale; and such will continue to be the case, so long as it is hunted in the sportsmanlike manner in which it is now hunted; and such would be the case with all other countries hunted for a succession of years by one influential person, and that one a sportsman. There is a Greek proverb, "xpημаrа xpnuar' avnp," which implies-" money makes the man ;" an English one, money makes the mare to go;" but the wealth of the Bank of England will not make a sportsman, nor keep a country together, unless a sportsman be at the head of it. I was beautifully mounted this day and the preceding one, by Count Batthyany, who, having been on a visit in the country the evening before, must have ridden more than forty miles, to meet Lord Lonsdale's hounds, on the day above alluded to.

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There was one circumstance in the first run which I have forgotten to mention. Just at the finish, the hounds threw up, having over-run the scent a few hundred yards. The fact was, the fox had turned short back on the foil, and laid himself down on a small withy bed, opposite to a cottage door. The pack were soon at his brush again; and I think I never saw so complete a sample of a tired fox as he presented himself, when he jumped up in view. In less than a minute he was in the whipper-in's hand, and in another minute he was quite stiff. He was a very large, old dog-fox, and very fat, which accounts for his not standing another ten minutes before the pack.

(To be continued.)

100

SPORTING SKETCHES FROM NEW BRUNSWICK.

BY M. H. PERLEY, ESQ.

No. 4.-THE STREAM-DRIVERS.

WHILE breakfasting with a friend, one fine morning, in "the leafy month of June," and talking over sporting matters, we became so excited, that an instant start was resolved upon; and in an hour we were off on foot, for a wild stream, some few miles distant, provided with rod and basket, and sufficient for a dinner in the bush. The day seemed, in all respects, fit for sport; the western breeze was bearing the bright clouds over a brilliant sky, and just sufficiently tempering the summer heat, which would otherwise have been oppressive. A brisk walk of two hours brought us to the stream, which was in a secluded situation, seldom frequented by sportsmen. We found its borders low and marshy; the waters deep and still: the trout appeared abundant, and they rose fast and freely, giving promise of excellent fishing for the day. But at each step among the wild grass, rushes, dwarf shrubs, and springing alders, the musquittoes and black-flies arose in clouds, and our faces and necks were soon covered with blood from their irritating bites. In marshy situations these pests abound; and, in the early part of the season, they render such places, if sheltered from the wind, quite unapproachable; they constitute the best water-keepers imaginable. Every expedient was used to evade, or drive them off, without success, until, half maddened by their tormenting stings, we were fairly obliged to give up the contest, and move off quickly for a neighbouring hill, the summit of which, being cleared land, enjoyed the full benefit of the breeze, and that soon relieved us from the attacks of our enemies; not, however, without abundant marks of their fierce onslaught.

Determined not to be thus baulked, now that we were fairly in the field, and it was yet early in the day, we pushed on about ten miles further, for the purpose of trying a more extensive piece of water, where, if we had not so good sport, we should, at least, be free from the musquittoes. On reaching the river, we found that the water was too low to afford any chance of success; so, procuring a log-canoe (one hollowed out of a large pine-tree), we dropped down stream; but the numerous rocks and shallows so much delayed us, that night came on long before we reached the little tavern where we intended taking up our quarters. The scenery on the river was exceedingly varied and picturesque; and when seen under the brilliancy of a bright and cloudless moon, throwing down whole masses of silver light, to contrast with the dark and gloomy shadows of the lofty banks, crowned with majestic pines, it offered numerous new and interesting features to our observation, which beguiled the time until midnight was upon us. The water gradually deepened, and then we moved on steadily, while all nature lay in the stillness of perfect repose, disturbed only by the click of our paddles, and the gentle gurgle of the water under the prow of the

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