Derby week, when the greater part of the masters of hounds are in town, an exhibition of young hounds of that season; and that a cup of the value of thirty or fifty sovereigns, raised by subscription, should be presented to the breeder of the best. It cannot be denied that the breed of cattle has been improved, and that the beauty of flowers, and the speed of greyhounds, have been increased by competition for cups; why then should the fox-hound languish in the shade? I hope the day is not far distant when huntsmen will be enabled to point out to the field "the hound that won the cup."

I cannot close this article without calling the attention of all sportsmen to an evil which, I regret to say, is increasing; and that is, snaring of foxes. It is done in the following manner. When the poachers know where the hounds meet, they go into the high wood, and set several runs with double snares; that is, two snares exactly fitting each other, and pegged on each side of the run. They then place themselves between the snares, which are, perhaps, forty yards apart, and as the hounds bring him round, they drive him into the snares; and as he is double pegged, he cannot turn to bite or break the wire. They instantly pop him into a sack, till they have an opportunity to get clear off; and all this is frequently done in a cover surrounded by a hundred sportsmen, without one of them discovering, or even suspecting, the cause of reynard not making his appearance.

THISTLEWHIPPER.

A FEW HINTS UPON FOX-HUNTING.

I SEND you a few hints, Mr. Editor, in consequence of the disregard frequently paid by those who profess to follow the chase, but who more frequently are larking, and only thinking who shall get over the fence first, without much minding whether they are after the hounds or before them. It is not my wish to restrain the ardour of the young aspirants for fame in the field, but only to point out to them when they may exert their full powers, without detriment to that sport, which, I presume, it is their wish to enjoy. Imagine a fox well found in a favourite cover, and, of course, all anxious for a start; the master of the hounds excuses at first a little haste and ardour in the field, and after one or two admonitions to "hold hard!" the hounds settle and seem determined on mischief, and all goes well; but after fifteen minutes at a good pace, difficulties arise; there is a check; and now it is that the temper of the master of the hounds and huntsman are tried. Instead of every person in the field pulling up, to allow a cast to be made, (supposing the check to arise from sheep, shooters, cur dog,

difficult ground, &c. &c.) many begin talking aloud, striking fire to singe cigars, or what is worse, just as the hounds put their heads down to cry "hark halloo!" perhaps to some boy, who unluckily at that moment is doing his duty, by exerting his lungs to the utmost in defending his master's late sown wheat. To prevent this unsportsman-like conduct, allow me to request the attention of your fox-hunting readers, more particularly of the younger ones, to the following remarks; which are committed to paper, purely from a desire to promote the science of foxhunting, for it is an inattention to the science that is the chief cause of the mischief that is done in the field. While the cover is being drawn, keep away from all the points that the fox is most likely to break at, if he does not go away when first found; if the cover is a small one, remain stationary; if a large one, great attention is necessary to avoid heading the fox, and at the same time not losing a start; keep down wind of the hounds, and as near them as the situations of the ridings will admit, turning as they turn, which will take less out of your horse than getting badly away, and having to race to catch them. Allow hounds a fair start; when settled, keep your eye forward, and if you see any probable impediment to the straight course of the fox, such as shooters, men ploughing, hedgers, a road, &c., &c., pull to your horse, caution others to do so; and by that means, should the hounds come to a check, they will have room to make their own cast; and should that fail, the huntsman will know where to make his. Never when running down a road or lane ride within thirty yards of the hounds, for if pressed at that time they are apt to go beyond the scent, and of course a long check ensues; when you first hear a halloo, only listen, do not immediately shout "hark halloo!" which prevents the men working with the hounds from hearing it distinctly, which is of much importance, as they from experience can generally decide whether it is a false halloo or not. When the fox gains a cover, do not ride round to view him away, as by so doing you most likely will head him, or if he is before you, bring the hounds to a check. When they are hunting slowly, and particularly with a beaten fox, it is wrong to go forward up the ridings of the cover which the hounds are pointing for, as the fox will most likely run them. Never allow your spirits to be too much elated when a fox is sinking, as often when you think the hounds cannot miss him, by a few injudicious cheers, you get their heads up, the fox slips through a farm-yard, round the corner of a cottage, is run by a cur, confusion ensues, and you are all astonishment how he could be lost. When a fox is killed, be careful to keep your horse away from the hounds, when worrying him, as at that time the quietest horses will kick hounds.

There are many more circumstances that occur during a run that are

of great importance, but a knowledge of which can only be acquired by a due attention to the science of hunting.

Masters of hounds often complain of their puppies being sent in from quarters long before the regular time,-which is in April, as soon as hunting is over; those who are kind enough to keep them, would not send them in so soon, if they were aware of the inconvenience it causes in the kennel, and the injury it does to the shape and make of the young hounds, by being in kennel from the time they are sent in till the hunting season is over, as before that period proper attention cannot be paid to them.

AN OLD SPORTSMAN.

THE SPORTSMAN'S ADDRESS TO HIS HORSE.

My noble steed, my gallant grey,
Thou well deserv'st my song!
For ne'er was seen the pace or day
For thee too fast or long.

A roadster good, not straddling high,
Nor shuffling low I find thee;
But stepping straight and cheerily,
Thou leav'st the miles behind thee.

At cover side, not wasting force
In fretting like a novice,
Thou calmly ey'st the prickly gorse,
And wait'st to hear the office.

But when he's gone!-then like a bird
Thou clearest rail and river;
No weary sob from thee is heard,
Nor gives thy tail a quiver.

And when at night we home return

Thou need'st not gruel thin,

But greet'st with welcome neigh thy corn,

Clean sifted, from the binn.

W.

LETTER FROM MR. JORROCKS TO NIMROD, DESCRIBING HIS TRIP TO BRIGHTON WITH SIR VINCENT COTTON, AND HIS ADVENTURES THERE.

DEAR EDITOR,

THE enclosed is from Mr. Jorrocks; and thinking it may be interesting to some of your readers, I forward it to you with the stipulation that if published, you adhere to the gentleman's own orthography, as he is rather fastidious, and quarrelled with the late Editor for altering the spelling of some of his articles. You had better, therefore, give it verbatim, even to the “Parmesan candles and spermaciti cheese.”

Calais, Jan. 16, 1837.

DEAR NIMROD,

Your's obediently,

NIMROD.

In the last number of that pleasant periodical, the N. S. M., you favoured myself, and the sporting world at large, with a werry rich high flavoured account of the great Captain Barclay, and his extonishing coach, the "Defiance;" and being werry grateful to you for that and all other favours, past, present, and to come, I take up my grey goose quill to make it "obedient to my will," as Mr. Pope, the poet, says, in relating a werry gratifying ride I had on the celebrated Brighton Age, along with Sir Wincent Cotton, Bart., and a few other swells. Being, as you knows, of rather an emigrating disposition, and objecting to make a nick-stick of my life by marking down each Christmas-day over roast beef and plumb pudding, cheek-by-jowl with Mrs. J. at home, I said unto my lad Benjamin-and there's not a bigger rogue unbung"Benjamin, be after looking out my Sunday clothes, and run down to the Regent Circus, and book me the box seat of the Age, for I'm blow'd if I'm not going to see the King at Brighton (or "London sur Mary," as James Green calls it); and tell the pig-eyed book-keeper it's for Mr. Jorrocks, and you'll be sure to get it.

Accordingly, next day, I put up my appearance at the Circus, dressed in my best blue Saxony coat, with metal buttons, yellow waistcoat, tights, and best hessians, with a fine new castor on my head, and a carnation in my button-hole. Lots of chaps came dropping in to go, and every one wanted the box-seat. "Can I have the box?" said one, "No, sir; Mr. Jorrocks has it." "Is the box-seat engaged?" asked another.- -"Yes, sir, Mr. Jorrocks has taken it." "Book me the box," said a third, with great dignity." It's engaged already." "Who by?"—" Mr. Jorrocks;" and so they went on to the tune of

NO. LXX.-VOL. XII.

I

near a dozen. Presently a rattling of pole-chains was heard, and a cry was raised of "Here's Sir Wincent!" I looks out, and saw a werry neat, dark, chocolate-coloured coach, with narrow red striped wheels, and a crest, either a Heagle, or a Unicorn (I forgets which), on the door, and just the proprietors' names below the winder, and "The Age," in large gilt letters, below the gammon board, drawn by four blood-like switch-tailed nags, in beautiful highly polished harness with brass furniture, without bearing reins-driven by a swellish-looking young chap, in a long backed, rough, claret-coloured benjamin, with fancy-coloured tyes, and a bunch of flowers in his button hole-no coachman or man of fashion, as you knows, being complete without the flower. There was nothing gammonacious about the turn out; all werry neat and 'andsome, but as plain as plain could be; and there was not even a bit of Christmas at the orses' ears, which I observed all the other coaches had. Well, down came Sir Wincent, off went his hat, out came the way-bill, and off he ran into the office to see what they had for him. "Here, coachman," says a linen-draper's "elegant extract," waiting outside, "you've to deliver this (giving him a parcel) in the Marine Parade the instant you get to Brighton. It's Miss bustle, and she'll be waiting for it to put on to go out to dinner, so you musn't lose a moment, and you may charge what you like for your trouble." "" Werry well," says Sir Wincent, laughing, "I'll take care of her bustle. Now, book-keeper, be awake! Three insides here, and six out. Pray, sir," touching his hat to me, are you booked here? Oh, Mr. Jorrocks, I see. I begs your pardon.-Jump up then; be lively!-What luggage have you?" Two carpet bags, with J. J., Great Coram Street, upon them.' "There, then, we'll put them in the front boot, and you'll have them under you. All right behind? Sit tight!" Hist! off we go by St. Martin's church into the Strand, to the booking office there.

The streets were werry full, but Sir Wincent wormed his way among the coal-waggons, wans, busses, coaches, bottom-over-tops,-in wulgar French, cow sur tate" as they calls the new patent busses-trucks, cabs, &c. in a marvellous workman-like manner, which seemed the more masterly, inasmuch as the leaders, having their heads at liberty, poked them about in all directions, all a mode Francey, just as they do in Paris. At the Marsh Gate we were stopped. A black job was going through one side, and a hawbuck had. drawn a great yellow one oss Gravesend cruelty wan into the other, and was fumbling for his coin. "Now, Young Omnibus!" cried Sir Wincent, "don't be standing there all day." The man cut into his nag, but the brute was about beat. "There! don't 'it him so 'ard," (hard) said Sir Wincent, "6 or you may hurt him!"