showiest hooks. He, on the contrary, put on a small hook of his dark and favourite pattern given above, and, taking his turn among the rest, hooked the fish, and carried off the prize.

On one occasion, however, a poor man had secured a peculiar fishing station to himself, by right of discovery. The man was a dummy, and the position, the branch of a tree which overhung a dark pool in that horrible-looking part of the river Lochy that extends for about half a mile below the bridge of Unachaw, in which the huge rocks, and black, boiling pools, look like the approach to Acheron. From this tree, dummy was accustomed to secure many a goodly fish; and, on account of his infirmity, it was held ungenerous to disturb him in the possession of his perch. One day, however, a neighbouring shoemaker was found by him fishing from the tree, by which dummy was sorely disconcerted. He took no notice this time, but on again catching the snob poaching on his demesne, the untutored fire, which is thought to lurk within the breasts of such persons in greater force than with those more fully gifted, was seen to flash from his eyes. He watched his opportunity, and returned in the absence of the shoemaker, sawed the branch from the under side, not quite, but almost, through, leaving as much on the upper side as gave it the usual appearance. He was on the spot next day before the shoemaker, to whom, however, he yielded a willing precedence, and no sooner had the interloper stepped upon the deceitful branch, than he plumped into the black and boiling pool, the eyes of dummy glaring at him the while over the precipice; and he barely escaped with his life.

Having killed a fish in the Lochy, I gave my rod to Donald Gunn, and witnessed a beautiful specimen of his skill. There is a rugged place in the river called the Falls, a quarter of a mile long, the first of which is a descent of about twenty feet. Before this descent, however, there is a small step in the rock, like the ordinary step of a stair, where no one could ever dream that a salmon could sustain himself without being carried over the fall. There, however, did Donald pitch his fly, moving it in long skips upon the water, when, lo! a nine-pounder dashed from the step, and was fast in an instant. This, however, was but the beginning of the struggle. Had Donald yielded to him for a moment, the fish would have gone down the Falls, and Donald must have thrown the rod after him. It was with admiration, therefore, that, within a minute of his being hooked, I saw the still leaping and struggling fish dragged unwillingly ashore, and floundering upon dry land as if he had been but a trout. This was effected by some dexterous bearing of the rod and line, that, considering the weight of the fish, and the strength of the water, is even yet a mystery to me.

July 23rd.-Yesterday being a preaching day, we went to church, and heard a Gaelic sermon, which, to us, was certainly more curious than edifying. To-day I left the Lochy wholly to my friend, who killed a fish of nine pounds. For myself, I started alone on a walk, to see Glen Nevis, taking my trout rod in my hand. It was a day of most brilliant sunshine, and the small river, the Nevis, which runs through the glen, was as clear as crystal. Gunn, therefore, prophesied that I should not kill a trout. After walking four or five miles up the stream, I inquired at a solitary shepherd's hut how far I had still to go, and was not much encouraged by being informed that I was only half

way, and that I should not be able to find the road alone. But I am not a person to be easily beat, and I continued my walk until I appeared to be completely shut up by the bed of the river and steep precipices. I found, however, a pathway leading along the face of one of these, but with a ravine of 150 feet on one side, which was to be passed by a resting-place for the toes of one foot only in the face of the rock. As I made the leap, my fishing-basket struck the rock, and I received an impetus towards the Falls, which made my heart jump to my mouth, and great was my satisfaction at feeling myself firm on the other side. I now descended into the bed of the stream, which consists of blocks of stone as large as an ordinary sized cottage (I speak literally), the river being heard running below, between the crevices. Leaping from rock to rock, I at length emerged from the ravine into a solitary valley, into which, immediately facing me, a stream of water slid over a rock upwards of 200 feet high, and then meandered along, forming many a sparkling stream and limpid pool. The scenery is the most beautiful in Scotland, and too little visited. I had now attained the opposite side of the lofty Ben Nevis from that on which I had set Here I set to work, but the water was so fine that I had to fish with a single horsehair, with which, however, I managed to kill eight dozen trout during the three hours which the distance I was from home allowed me. I lost, besides, about a dozen of the best, which broke my delicate tackle. In returning, I sprained my ankle very severely in leaping from rock to rock, and became seriously alarmed as to how I was to return on foot, some eight or ten miles, principally through a perfect solitude; but there was no remedy, and I fairly walked the pain away, which, for anything I know, may be a discovery in medicine. The fatigue I had undergone was repaid in the evening by displaying a couple of baskets heaped with trout, to my friend and the doubting Donald. (To be continued.)

out.

THE DESERTED VILLAGE.-1842.

"Quantum mutatus ab illo !"

HAIL, Tetsworth! primest village of the road,
Where coaching once in all its glory show'd,
Where steady posters might be found always-
A careful driver, and " a neat post-chaise."
The member rattling up at slapping pace,
To ease his conscience, or secure a place—
The maiden flying from a guardian's rage,
In Hymen's "Union"* venturing a stage-
These knew no more or anxious fear or doubt,

When civil Slatter+ cried-" the first turn out."

The "Union" once went the Tetsworth road. + Landlord of the Swan at Tetsworth.

Once, Tetsworth, thine was many a gallant team,
The dragsman's pride, the helper's fruitful theme;
How dashingly they swept the well-known door,
Where rest awaited when their task was o'er;
Or, sleek of coat, and deck'd with trappings gay,
Bounding they met the labour of the day.
Landlord and Whip gazed on the thriving trade,
And dreamt of fortunes soon and surely made;
For then alike both house and coach fill'd well,
"And all went merry as a marriage bell."

Once it was thus-another age appears,
And Tetsworth's smiles, alas! are turn'd to tears.
No more is heard the mellow winding horn,
Waking the drowsy slumbers of the morn;
No spicy "change" now waits for the down mail,
For, woe is me! the Glos'ter's on the "rail."
One solitary change alone is there-
That which has turn'd thy hope into despair.
No longer now is heard the busy din

In the full yard that marks the prosperous inn;
Unheard is now the watching ostler's call;
The only "pair" is weary of the stall.
Silent the joke of "boots," ne'er known to fail;
The keeper'st whistle, and the post-boy's tale.
No waiter now bestirs him for the nonce,
To answer fifty summonses at once:
E'en Bessy's self, so long the bar's fair boast,
The cookmaid's envy, and the bagman's toast;—
Whose winning smile was so well known to fame,
That for a ray each "freshman" duly came-
E'en she, so hopeless, Tetsworth, is thy case,
Hath pack'd her traps, and bolted from her place.

• It is not to be understood from this, that the coach-horses in that district were wont to sweep before the inn doors: " to sweep" is the road vernacular for rounding a turn stylishly.

No more shall Tollitt tip the leary wink,
Nor teach the young'uns how to drive and drink :
No more the "slavey" wait upon the sly,

To catch a glance from handsome Bramble's † eye :
No more upon the Royal box shall Dick
Show gaping yokels how to come the trick-
As slap a workman as e'er drew a rein,
And, though most civil, still in all pro-Fane.
All these, and many more, the bench have fled,
To try elsewhere a better game instead ;
Doom'd Tetsworth! while to give to thy despair
Its climax, Charley Holmes || now tools a pair!

Hail to thee, Peyton! happy days be thine;
Long may'st thou live behind, thy grays to shine :
To thee all look; upon thee all depend ;

The dragsman's "guide, philosopher, and friend."
And where are ye, good men and true, who show'd
Your value for a worthy of the road? §

Give us your hands-and let him be replaced
Upon the stage that he so well has graced :
Up!-rally round him-only faithful stand-
Charley's himself again, with four in hand!
Hurrah!-the road-put steamers to the rout,
And starve the "hell in harness" system out.

Tetsworth! a long-perchance a last farewell;
No more on painful musings let us dwell:
But fondly hope there yet may come a day,
When steam's wild vanities shall pass away;
And that shrill whistle, which the ear now jars,
Yield to the pleasant music of the bars.

COURSING.

STREATLEY CHAMPION meeting.

THE Champion Meeting at Streatley, so long delayed in conse quence of frost, took place on the 25th and 26th of February. The Great Stake, value £160, was divided between Mr. Etwall's black

Another swell of the Oxford road.

Driver of the Oxford " Age." Dick Snowden, of the " Royal William," of which coach Major Fane was principal proprietor.

Charles Holmes, of the "Blenheim," the oldest, and now the only regular coach

man on the Oxford road.

A splendid silver cup was presented to Charles Holmes, for his long services and exemplary conduct on the" Blenheim."

bitch, Emetic Tartar, and Mr. William Etwall's brindled dog, Westwind; and the second stake, value £80, between Mr. Morant's fawn dog, Mussulman, and Mr. Agg's white bitch, Amazon. This meeting followed so quickly on the Ashdown Park, which finished only on the previous Friday, that the dogs had scarcely time to get fresh enough to cope with those that had been kept up purposely for Streatley. But, notwithstanding this disadvantage, West-wind maintained his high character for speed and bottom; and, as there is not more severe ground in England than the Streatley, after the bad luck and hard work I saw him have at Ashdown Park, if he were not a greyhound of the most superior caste, he would not have remained in to the last for this stake. In an account of a former meeting, I stated him to be a grandson of Mr. Etwall's Eurus, but I was not aware at that time he was a descendant of Mr. Heathcote's Harebell, which I understand to be the case. Tartar Emetic is a fast bitch, and ran the last tie in the Rutland Stakes, at the Newmarket New Meeting, in November, with Mr. Fyson's Fairy (since the winner of the Champion Stake, at the Great Meeting there); she then ran as Mr. Edwards's Arsenic. Mussulman was bred by Mr. Morant, and is a dog possessing extraordinary speed; if he could turn well, and thereby keep closer to his hare, few could beat him. Amazon is a good bitch, sister to Mr. Herbert's Handsome and Hebe, winners at the Northleach Meeting. There will not be any meeting held at Streatley for the future, as the hares are about to be destroyed there.

THE WATERLOO LIVERPOOL MEETING.

THIS meeting, which came off on the 1st and 3rd of March, followed close on the Streatley, and brought together a numerous assemblage of the first dogs of the day. Lancashire yields to no county for the spirit with which the sport of the leash is maintained, and the high character of its greyhounds. Where so much trouble is taken, and no expense spared to procure the best blood, it is only to be lamented they have not such ground as the Ashdown Park, or the Deptford Inn, to test their merits. The Cup was carried off by Mr. Hunt's Priam; all his courses were cleverly won, and he was justly entitled to the honour he gained; how it might have been, had the judge given Minerva her first course (about which there seems to be a great difference of opinion), I know not; but, from what I have seen of her public running, I am satisfied that, when well, there are very few greyhounds that can surpass her for speed, stoutness, and true and honest running. Priam is a fawn and white dog, and is by Emperor, out of Venus, Mr. Bradley's fawn dog, Barrier, ran the last tie with Priam.

The Altcar Stakes, value £170, with £30 to the second dog, were won by the Earl of Stradbroke's Minerva very cleverly; her stoutness was fully tried in this stake, as, in one day, she coursed six hares, and killed them all. She has coursed twelve brace and a half of hares in public, and never allowed one to escape her. Mr. Heyse's fawn bitch, Carmelite, ran the last tie with her. Carmelite is by Mr. Read's Sultan, out of Mr. Craven's Carra: Minerva by Mr. Lyster's Livid, out of Lord Stradbroke's Margery.

The Waterloo Purse, value £100, and £42 to the second dog, also fell to the lot of the Earl of Stradbroke, won by his fine young blue