bring them down to so ignobly modern a date as the Norman Conquest? We won't pause for a reply, but proceed to speak of the education of Dr. Grant's dogs: "They were entered with rats, and mounted the scale to cats as age and performance might warrant. Too many of the puppies stopped there, or got no further than a muzzled fox; but if age gave them solid confidence, they took their B.A. degree with the badger. This species of culture tends upwards to the otter, in which Tom and Teddy (the sons of Shamrock and Nettle) have become quite Regius Professors." The reader will observe the delicate gradations-rat, cat, muzzled fox, badger, otter. How few of us, in the battle of life, by the way, get beyond the muzzled fox! The career of these puppies resembles the education of a mercenary beauty. In her pinafore days she flirts with small boys whom she meets at the dancing-school. As she gets well into her teens she shoots her arrows at younger sons and Government clerks. Arrived at the full blaze of beauty, she tackles her otter -in other words, the banker, the rising M.P., the risen Q.C., or the broad-acred squire. However, the object of the young lady's pursuit does not treat her so rudely as the otter treats unlucky Teddy. We learn that he goes quietly up to the "fish-slicer"—a cant term for the salmon's deadly foe-and gets almost bitten to death without a murmur. Mr. Dixon invariably fixes the date of past events by sporting landmarks. Let us take an example from a biographical sketch of Will Williamson, a retired huntsman of 82. He does not trouble himself with such trivialities as the battle of Austerlitz or Trafalgar, or say a word about Pitt or Fox; no, the occurrence to which he desires to attach a chronological significance took place "when Hambletonian and Diamond were all the talk;" and in one of his hero's rambles on Newmarket-heath he saw-not his Majesty, or the Prince of Wales, or Mr. Sheridan, or Lord Eldon; no, a far grander and more inspiriting sight-he saw Sam Chifney and Will Edwards ride their maiden race as feather-weights together. A fast friendship sprang up between the son of the famous jockey and the Scottish stranger, and the former sealed it at parting with a pair of braces, "the buckles of which have done duty on generation after generation of straps to this hour." The Scottish stranger reciprocated in later years with a suit of Scottish tweed. Talk of the decline of hero-worship! It exists in full swing, only instead of reverencing the bones of saints we idolize the buckles of jockeys. Only the other day, when Grimshaw was killed, the grooms and helpers in a certain inn stable solemnly assembled at dead of night with candles in their hands to do honour to the corpse of the departed worthy as it passed through the town. To how many famous lawyers, clergymen, physicians, merchants, or manufacturers would such a spontaneous tribute of affection be offered? When manhood suffrage becomes the law of the land, the House of Commons will not be filled, as some fondly anticipate, with philosophical radicals or fiery demagogues, but with celebrated sporting men. No future leader of the Commons need delicately call the attention of the House to the "Isthmian games" at Whitsuntide; the House will assemble as one man on Epsom Downs. In presence of the Jockey Club the Carlton and Reform will sink into insignificance, the Master of the Horse will become a more important functionary than the First Lord of the Treasury, and Admiral Rous will be Chancellor of the Exchequer. A candidate for election will be questioned on his capacity for taking waterjumps and on his proficiency in pigeon shooting; the statues of Jenner and Havelock will be replaced by effigies of Assheton Smith and Osbaldeston; while the mutilated Royal figure in Leicestersquare will be discarded for a herculean presentment of the classic struggle between Sayers and Heenan. "Welshing" will be reckoned the most heinous crime in the calendar, and, as John Morrissey will probably at that time be President of the United States, we may hope for such an entente cordiale between the two nations as the Atlantic cable will never effect. zooro. We must devote a word to Mr. Campbell, of Dalgig, because of his singular dog-nomenclature. He appears to have invented a special language for the purpose-a cross between the Mexican and the Australian aboriginal tongues, and as musical as either. Here are some specimens Canaradzo, Coodereena, Ciologa, Calabaroono, and CadaSome of his coursing friends have dared to infringe Mr. Campbell's patent, and one of them named a dog Dalgigaradzo. On all these musically-named creatures Mr. Dixon waxes earnestly eloquent. Of one, we read: "In the slips, she looked one network of veins; and all her litters have inherited her beautiful skin." Of another, we learn that "she was seized with dropsy, and became such a swollen object that she was within an ace of being put away" (an euphenism for "put to death") "like her brother. Mr. Campbell cured her with warm baths and flannel bandages. Ranter, by Bedlamite, was her first love; but the puppies came at a bad season of the year, and were wrong in their legs as well." Dogs, as well as men, are sometimes over-estimated. "Brighton," we read," was sold at London for fifty guineas, and went thence to Amesbury; but he was no good at the stud, as he got his puppies far too fine, and he became a parlour-dog at last." We can conceive the pathetic earnestness with which Mr. Dixon would pronounce these last words, conveying as they do a solemn warning to all future puppies. A parlour-dog! What degradation it implies! Yet among bipeds there are a good many parlour-dogs about, and they seem to take to the life very kindly. May not a poor man who marries a rich woman, and lives snugly on her money, be regarded as a sort of parlour dog? We have left numberless things untouched, but must wind up with a sketch of the character and later history of Charles XII. We are not speaking of the monarch who "left the name at which the world grew pale," but of a famous racer. Mr. Dixon finds a picture of him, by the elder Herring, at a country house. He has a keen eye for a sporting portrait, and goes on to say : "The ears of the mighty Charles are screwed back, as if he would like right well to have a nip at somebody. Amid all his reverses, when his back had become quite hollow, and his tail was cut, he retained some faded notions of royalty, and he would not pass through Balby tollgates, the southern portal to the scene of his St. Leger and Cup victory against Lanercost, Beeswing, and Compensation, till both the gates were opened. When he got there, Tom Dawson, who had trained him when he left John Scott's, did not know him in the sale ring; and although he was the sire of some capital hunters, no one would venture on him at a pony.' He went to Ireland after that, and was eventually put down at Sheffield, when quite a shadow of his old self, and a carving knife and fork were made from his cannon-bones." In his own peculiar line Mr. Dixon is decidedly an original genius. Though his pages bristle with technical terms, he is quite free from the vulgar flippancy and forced fun of the ruck of sporting scribblers; he writes like a man of cultivation and reflection, and he is far too much in earnest to indulge in any unseemly jocularity. It would be absurd to recommend these volumes to ordinary circulating-library readers, because, though they could scarcely turn a page without finding something interesting, they would be repelled by the elaborate pedigrees of bulls, rams, and dogs which occupy a large portion of the book; but for sportsmen and breeders we judge that Field and Fern affords a valuable and entertaining compendium of information. As the author tells us in his preface that he is preparing a similar work on English Flocks and Herds, we venture to advise him to be more explanatory and less elliptical than he is in these volumes, so that non-sporting readers-by whom he deserves to be known-may better appreciate him. We will give a single instance of his elliptical mode of expression. He speaks of "wandering off to Lochiel and Lochaber to see if the Cheviot is holding his ground after the Siberian 'sixty." We feel sure this would puzzle most readers, nor would the context help them. Mr. Dixon means that he was anxious to learn whether the very severe winter of 1860 had killed off all the Cheviot sheep in that district. This fault is partly owing to the terseness with which Mr. Dixon writes. He is the Tacitus of sporting literature. Terseness is a fault of which we have seldom to complain. Authors in general might justly hang the gold-beater's arm and hammer over their doors, for they almost always use more words than are needful for the reader's patience or their own popularity. And, as this remark contains a hint for ourselves, we will wish the author of Field and Fern a friendly farewell. "HERE'S SPORT INDEED!" SHAKSPEARE. BY LORD WILLIAM LENNOX, CHAP. LXIV. A SPORTING TRIP TO THE MISSISSIPPI AND MISSOURI RIVERS. So many of our countrymen seek for sport in foreign countries-in yachting excursions to the Baltic, in shooting expeditions to Norway, in lion hunting in Africa, in tiger shooting in India, in snipe shooting in Canada, and in "paddling their own canoes" on rivers where such frail barks have never previously been seen, that it may not be uninteresting to those who are of a roving dispositition to give an account of an excursion to the Mississippi and Missouri rivers, a shooting expedition to Hamilton county, New York, hunting the wild boar in India, and fishing in Louisiana. Commence we with that country It was in the latter end of July, 18-, that, accompanied by two sporting friends, I left Quebec to proceed to the Mississippi. Our first object was to recruit a complement of Canadian voyageurs from the band that were usually to be found loitering about St. Anne's, near the extremity of the island of Montreal, and which upon our arrival at the latter place we immediately set about doing. From the voyageurs attached to the North-West Company we engaged a number, sufficient as we supposed for our purpose; and having laid in a supply of provisions, ammunition, and presents for the Indians, we hired one of those great canoes, at that time universally used by the fur traders for navigating the intricate and obstructed rivers. It was nearly forty feet long, constructed of birch bark, sewed with fibres of the roots of the spruce tree, and daubed with the resin of the fine instead of tar. The cargo was made up in packages, weighing about 100 lbs. each, for the facility of loading and unloading, and of transporting at the several portages. The canoe itself, though capable of holding à freight of upwards of four tons, could easily be carried on the men's shoulders. Our craft was managed by a crew of ten, with two picked veterans, who were to receive double pay. These, termed the foreman and steersman, were to take their stations, one at the bow and the other at the stern, to keep a look-out, and steer. The remainder, who were to work the paddles, were called middle-men. In a few days, all having been reported ready, we took our departure from that spot, where formerly stood the ancient chapel of St. Anne, the patroness of the Canadian voyageurs, immortalized by Moore: 66 Faintly as tolls the evening chime, Our voices keep tune, and our oars keep time; We'll sing at St. Anne's our parting hymn." It was here they made confession, and offered up their vows, previous to departing on any hazardous expedition. The shrine of the Saint was always decorated with relics and votive offerings, either to propitiate her favour, or in gratitude for some signal deliverance. It was the custom, too, of these devout vagabonds, after leaving the chapel, to have a grand carouse, in honour of St. Anne, and for the prosperity of the voyage; and in this part of their devotions our crew proved themselves by no means deficient. Our expedition now made its way up the Ottawa, and by the ancient route of the fur traders along a succession of small lakes and rivers to Michilimackinac-Anglicè, the Great Turtle. Our progress was slow and tedious, as the crew pulled regular "dock-yard fashion," and were ever ready to come to a halt, land, make a fire, put on the great pot, eat, drink, smoke, and gossip by the hour. It was not until the 1st of August that we arrived at Mackinow, situated on the island of the same name, at the confluence of Lakes Huron and Michigan. Mackinow, at the period I write of, was a mere village, stretching along a small bay, with a fine broad beach in front of its principal row of houses, and dominated by the old fort, which crowned an impending height. Here, at certain seasons, the traders arrived from all points: from Lake Superior and its tributary waters, the Mississippi, the Arkansas, the Missouri, and the other regions of the West. During our stay the place swarmed like a hive with traders, trappers, voyageurs, Indians, North-westers, South-westers, and idlers. Here we engaged a party of Indians to accompany us in a sporting expedition, and there was at that time no portion of North America more abundantly supplied with wild game, fish, and aquatic fowls than the one we were about to visit. Myriads of wild geese and ducks frequented the rivers, bays, and lakes, and were easily shot, as our game-book could testify; but not wishing to be accused of "shooting with a long bow," I will not give our return of killed on the 3rd of August. In addition to which, wild turkeys, quails, grouse, and wood-pigeons were numerous, and the forests abounded in bears, wolves, elk, deer, foxes, beavers, otters, musk rats, martin, racoon, wild cats, rabbits, and squirrels. Nothing can exceed the extent and beauty of these forests, which consisted of oak, sugar, maple, beech, ash, poplar, white and yellow pine, hickory, cedar, plum, walnut, crab-apple, cherry, black and honey locusts. There was, likewise, an undergrowth of aromatic shrubs and creepers, together with berries of various kinds : cranberries, whortleberries, black berries, currants, sloes, wild and choke cherries. But to return to our sport. After two good days' shooting we reached a great fishing place, and found a large party of Indians busily engaged in killing and drying salmon. Here there was a perpendicular fall of upwards of five-and-twenty feet on one side of the river, while on the other was a succession of rapids. The fish were taken in incredible numbers as they attempted to shoot the falls, and as it was the height of the season the whole camp of Indians turned out at sunrise to commence their piscatorial pursuits. The salmon began to leap as the day dawned. At that hour the black disciples of old Izaak swam to the centre of the falls, where some stationed themselves upon rocks, while others stood to their waists in the water, all armed with spears, to assail the salmon as they attempted to leap, or fall back exhausted. It was an incessant slaughter, so great was the throng of fish. The construction of the spears used on this occasion was peculiar. The head was a straight piece of elk horn, about seven inches long, on the point of which an artificial barb was made fast with twine well gummed. This head was stuck on the point of the shaft, which was formed of a long willow pole, and to which it was connected by a strong cord. When the spearsman made a sure blow, he frequently struck the head of the spear through the body of the fish. It came off easily, and left the salmon struggling with the string through its body, while the pole was still held by the spearsman. Were it not for the precaution of the string, the willow shaft would be snapped by the weight and struggles of the fish. Having purchased a good supply of kippered salmon from these wild fishermen, we returned to Mackinow, where, after remaining a day to attend a feast, given by a resident Scotch merchant, we augmented our number to thirty, and made preparations for embarking. But the embarkation of such a crew, on a distant expedition, was not so easy a matter, especially as we had paid them a fortnight's wages in advance. Like British tars, the Canadian boatmen preface a long cruise with a carouse, and such we found to be the case on the night previous to our departure. We, as I have already said, had accepted the invitation of a worthy son of Scotland to " spoon exercise," as the Americans call it, and nothing could exceed the hospitality of our host. The tables (to adopt the fashionable phraseology) groaned under the luxuries of the season-1 -fish; venison, with hunter's delicacies, in the shape of buffalo tongues and beaver's tails. Here, for hours did we sit, and |