these hounds when under the mastership of the old squire, Samson Hanbury. I remember their passing into the hands of Lord Petre, and when they reverted to the joint control of Mr. Perry and Mr. Calvert. At all these times the Epping Kennel had been owned and hunted by the old Squire, and those who had encountered him in the field well guarded themselves against a similar catastrophe. There is always a species of jealousy between the respective kennels as to their countries, and a rivalry as to the killing merits of their hounds. Residing as I did on the Marches as it were" of the contending parties, I sometimes rode with the one, as at times with the other, and never experienced any but the kindest feelings from both masters and servants. I always took care not to crowd the field, and never rode down a hound, or crossed the scent, so avoided alike the jeers and oaths of the in scarlet."

66

men

Born a Cockney, my breeding and education were decidedly of a country tendency, and I have always had a great pride in the observations of my acquaintance, that whilst a Londoner might fancy I was a countrymau, no yokel would believe but that I was a Cockney. Once or twice in my earlier days, the latter had acted on the delusion, and found that my education had shown me how owls were to be trapped and cudgels handled. On horseback, though more generally riding with a military seat, I knew when and how to drop my stirrup and ride from the knee, and seldom found a horse I could not back, or was last in at the death or earthing of Mr. Reynard.

With this knowledge, and my general desire for enjoying the sports of the field, it may be presumed I was not quite a stranger to many of my neighbours, who were possessed of similar idiosyncrasies; and when I left these parts for the metropolis, I had the gratification of carrying with me the best wishes of my friends, and repeated invitations to again beat up my old quarters.

The year (of my narrative) had accordingly found me, on one bright January morning in the fore-named locality, with the intention of taking an early dinner with my friend F., and then driving home some 20 miles. Not having given him a previous notice, I was not disappointed at finding him from home when I drove my trap to his door. His house was on the top of Hockerhill, and commanded a good view of the marsh lands, through which flowed the Stort, as well as a good look-out on the old Dunmow-road. The servant told me he was somewhere about the town; and having given my horse in charge of his groom, I walked down into Stortford, to give him a chance of picking up a bit of fish, or a brace of birds to eke out the table for my respected self. Being in his own way a bon vivant, I was not afraid of his cellar failing; but we family men know we often wish the guest to give us notice, that we may do him the hospitality demanded by our own hearts' impulses.

Calling in at his usual places of matutinal resort, I tracked him from one to another, until I came upon him at the George, enjoying a glass of ale with a neighbour. Having told him I had informed his good wife of my intention to take a knife and fork at her table that day, he was not surprised at my pursuit of himself, and when I had tried the Stortford ale for myself, we returned by the way of the market-place, from whence the needful additions were ordered for a two o'clock lunch (or

dinner), intending to enjoy a cigar and cheerful chat in his gardens in the interval. Whilst thus engaged in pleasant conversation on the past, the present, and the future, we were awakened to the common-places of life by hearing the cry of the hounds drawing closer and closer to us. Presently we lost their music, and thought that the fox had doubled back, or been headed, and thus the pursued and the pursuers had taken another line of country, and we should hear no more of them. We went into the house, and were surprised by viewing from the parlour window the field riding up and down at about half-a-mile from us. We then knew that Mr. Reynard must have thrown up in Hollingbury Wood, and that the hounds were at fault. Telling the groom to throw the saddles on a couple of nags, and bring them to us, we walked along the high road to the end of the garden, intending to witness their next break away from covert. Before the horses were brought round, we again heard the huntsman's horn, and in another second a view halloa was given from the other side of the wood. At that very moment I happened to cast my eyes down, and at the iron opening of the roadside drain I was startled by beholding a long snout, with a pair of fierce eye-balls staring at me. Here was the whole mystery of the sudden loss of reynard explained, he having run a few yards along the hard road, and then jumped on the garden wall, until he had reached the open ditch, into which this drain had an outlet. He must have gone at least 50 yards along this wall, and by so doing he had completely thrown the hounds off his scent. My friend and myself gave some rattling view-halloas, and at last attracted the attention of the huntsman, who came galloping along with a couple or two of hounds. The Squire had been giving him a sound rating for not put ting the dogs on the new-found fox; but he was satisfied it was not the old drag, and when he heard us, had ridden down directly. Being anxious to see if the hounds would make off their game, I would only tell him that I saw the fox when I first hollaed down to him, and taking him where I thought the vermin might first have left the pasture, I told him that was the place to recover the lost scent. He made a cast round, and again the hounds challenged the trail, and when they came to the end of the wall, began hunting wildly about, and again broke off. By this time old Squire C-s came up, and cursed not a little at everyone who was standing by. The field had also gathered round, and wanted M-to put the hounds on the fresh fox. The huntsman stood firm, and referred his master to myself, and I was saluted by a few round oaths, and asked, "What a d―d tailor, like myself, knew about a fox." I am very thankful that I can generally curb my temper, and I managed to do so in this instance, although it was rather hard to be blackguarded by a man in the presence of many parties to whom I was known. I simply told him that, "although I might have been a tailor, in which he was wrong, I trusted I was a gentleman, and knew a fox when I saw it." By this time we had returned to the road drain; and the hounds having crossed the road, had worked up to the ditch where Master Reynard had jumped down, and he had returned to the place where I first viewed him; perceiving him again, I asked tho Squire what that was at his horse's feet, and then he saw the fox for himself, and the terriers who had by this time come up, working away at the hard ground over their prey. Ex

citement was now the order of the day; hounds giving tongue along the open ditch, terriers baying their fox, horses fidgeting, and riders crowding together on the road, was a sight which would have made a study for a Landseer or a Herring, and the now convicted Squire began to bluster in another direction to carry off the conviction of his present defeat, and avoid my congratulations on his having learned a lesson on vulpecides from the mouth of a Cockney. My friend stood by enjoying the scene, and, turning to his groom, ordered back the horses, as there would be no more fox-hunting that day. Such was not the opinion of the general body of the bystanders, and we thought that, the fox being unearthed, we should have a good view along the pastures. A pickaxe and spades were therefore readily procured, and men found anxious to dig Mr. Reynard out of his retreat. The huntsman had withdrawn his hounds, and they interfered with a return to Hollingbury, so that the only run left was along the line of the Stort, and its pastures. My readers may conceive the general disgust when the whipper-in was told to throw the fox into the midst of the hounds, a fox who had not been run for more than 10 minutes before he had thrown off the hounds, and who had been absolutely lost but for the accidental glimpsing of him, whilst my friend and myself were waiting for the nags which the groom had been sent for. I will do the huntsman the credit to say, that he protested against it, and the whole merit of this slaughter lay with the Squire himself. Being neither a friend, tenant, nor acquaintance, I did not hesitate to tell him my mind, and that my sole regret that day was, that he had not proved himself to be a sportsman and a gentleman. And what was the reason for this outrage against all sportsmanship? It would seem there had been some disputes that season between the two masters of the hounds, as to certain coverts, and their right equally to draw them when in the neighbourhood, and the reference having been found in favour of the Puckeridge Kennel, the fox which had been found some mile or mile and a-half in the forest district was thus doomed to slaughter.

At the end of this unseemly sight, my host and myself returned indoors, where we found the lady of the house waiting for us. The matter was fully discussed over our dinner, and if Squire C. could have heard our comments, he would neither have been pleased nor flattered.

I

A glass of old port, followed by a tumbler of sound claret, passed the time until the servant brought in a cup of coffee, which had been ordered early, as my ride to Barnet must take place that night. knew my route well across the country, and that three hours must pass before I arrived at my own home. Seven o'clock accordingly found me on the road, and my mare trotted on merily to Waltham Cross. Pulling up here for an hour, I had a glass of brandy-and-water, and a cigar, and then resumed my way by Bull Cross, Enfield, East Barnet, and found myself at home in time for supper.

I have often thought of this fox hunt, and the ghost of Mr. Reynard sometimes haunts me with the idea that I was his murderer. At any rate I was innocently the means of his being slaughtered; for I have always contended that he was never fairly hunted, and that he should have had accorded to him a fair run, even if he had successfully beaten the Squire at the last.

About fifteen years of age, being in bad health, and having what was then termed a spleen or fever cake, a tallow face, pot belly, and slender legs, father sent me up to spend the summer at what is now known as Kellum's Springs. Then it was a howling wilderness; no human being lived within many miles of it, save the old hermit, as I will call him, Mr. Durham, with his old fat negro woman, Aunt Dilsey. Many shanties and one respectable house had been erected by and for the accommodation of planters, who sought health and pleasure there, which were to a certain extent public; that is, any one had the right to occupy any of them, except when the builder and owner arrived. But upon my advent they were, for the want of occupants, generally going to decay; the founders, the planters, had, to a great extent, given up the idea of seeking health and recreation at that place, which is now considered the most pleasant summer resort in Texas. Now, many elegant buildings have been erected there, and the spot my boyhood knew and loved, manhood knows no more. The familiar wild scenes of my boyhood's delight have passed away, and been supplanted by the marring hands of man. Nature's wild, and to the native Texan, enchanting scenery has been forced to give place to the elegant hotel, the summer cottage, and other elaborate human preparations for comfort and leisure.

But to my story. At my earnest solicitation Mr. Durham agreed to let me become an occupant of his house, his old woman to cook for us, and he and I to furnish from the woods, with our rifles, the necessary amount of provisions. Sulphur water added to a big spleen, was a great provocation of appetite; therefore many deer, wild turkeys, squirrels, &c., were consumed. One day, after having talked to me frequently upon the subject, my old friend D. proposed a fire hunt. He said that he would carry the pan, and that there was no danger of shooting a domestic animal (for, though a wilderness, many cattle and horses, as is the case now, strayed about unrestrained by their owners), as he knew the eyes of a deer from those of all other Texas animals, which long experience has taught me any one who will not get excited can do by sufficient practice.

The arrangements were made, and we started on our hunt s dark moonless night, for there is no chance on any other, as the darker the night the better the deer's eyes shine. Mr. Durham was mounted on his old grey mule (no, not exactly grey, but white mule we will call him; time had bleached his coat, save here and there small yellow spots, called here flea-bitten grey). The mule, like my horse, had to procure his sustenance from God's own store-house-the woods -therefore, on that account, and in consideration of the amount of labour he had to perform, was not very fat. The modus operandi of preparing for the hunt was to have an ordinary fryingpan, provided with a wooden extension to the handle, with a fork in the end for a gun rest, the pan to be filled with light wood (pine knots), which,

when burning, made the necessary light, the carrier of which could shoot or not as he elected. But on this occasion, being a novice and subject to my friend D's direction, I was made to carry the gun and light-wood knots, and to do the shooting after he had found the eyes, for you must know we shoot almost alone at the eyes. Some say that they can occasionally see the body of the deer, but out of nearly a thousand killed at night I do not remember having seen the bodies of but three, and they were within ten steps of me. We started. The old mule, provided with a deerskin covering aft or behind the saddle, so as to cover and protect his posteriors from the burning brands and tar which frequently fell from the pan. We travelled along for some considerable time, he in the lead, I momentarily expecting him to stop and tell me to dismount and shoot. The road, or path, led through a part oak, black-jack, and hickory thicket--not a dense thicket, but one a person would dislike very much to run his horse through, even in the day time. All at once my friend's mule (a mule is, as you know, an animal which is extremely hard to put out of his sober, steady, dignified, solemn gait, but when fright or great bodily pain puts him in motion, is probably harder to stop) started at full speed through the woods, link-a-te-tink, link-a-te-tink, the pan rattling, and flame issuing from the same like the tail of a comet. Through the woods he went-the mule of course, entirely out of the control of the rider-the poor old fellow halloing all the time, "whoa!" whoa whoa!" with his slender legs and grey-head flying through the woods, mule speed, which, though not very fast, was entirely too rapid for the comfort or safety of the rider in that dark night, when the light of the pan made the surrounding darkness more terrible. On and on he went (Gilpin's ride was a pleasure trip to his), the poor old man all the while using voice and reigns to restrain the mad career of his hybrid, who regardless of everything except escaping from the fire that was pouring and falling upon his bare rump (for bare it then was, as you will presently see) from the pan, was running furiously through the woods. How he and his rider escaped death or great bodily injury, the Omnipotent alone knows. Trees, shrubs, bushes, all seemed to be in their way, for the mule left the little path, and took to the woods. To me it was a very ludicrous sight, but the frog could not view it in that light. After accomplishing, in quick mule time, about half-a-mile, Mr. D., after disposing of the pan, succeeded in stopping his animal. I, of course, pursued-but slowly-it being so dark that it was difficult to follow the trail of my flying friend, which was marked by the fire coals and burning tar that fell from the pan in his flight.

When I arrived, there seemed to be a misunderstanding between him and his hitherto faithful quadruped-the owner seemed disposed to retrace his steps and recover pan and hat; the mule seemed to regard the back track as extremely unhealthy. Many oaths, considerable bridle-jerking, &c., at last restored the assinine descendant to terms of obedience. My arrival did not appear to have that happy effect upon the aroused temper of my friend that it should. Instead, it seemed to add fury to his passion. My risibles being very much excited, I could scarcely sit upon my horse. He railed at the mule, and he railed at me. "What was I laughing at? did I not have more sense than to be laughing at an old man, with a mule running away with him through