which his nag receives the benefit of every pound. Run your eye over the brown mare-long and low, with ragged hips, a plain long head, and thin tail, middling shoulders, but uncommonly thick through, short flat legs like iron, and good sizeable feet. John has hunted with these hounds for twenty years, and although it must be allowed that he has had his share of falls-indeed, in a farmers' run two years ago he confessed to five-yet where the hounds are, no matter what the country is, no matter how severe the pace, there is Farmer Downright; if not actually in the same field, always somewhere handy, as he calls it. Nobody will accuse him of being a good horseman; a good rider is altogether another story. His seat is of the washball order, and his grasp is more vigorous than sensitive. But he "rams 'em along," that is his secret. He knows what hounds are doing and when to gallop, and never being shook off during the first five minutes, the rest is all plain sailing. himself, "Any fool can live with 'em, if so be as he can get alongside after they've gone three fields." He is a hard, thrusting rider, and is at this moment favouring Sir Charles-who complains of a young one he has, not being so perfect as he could wish at his timber-with one of his maxims: "Ride him at the postess, S'Charles; they always rise when you ride 'em at the postess.' But hark! a holloa; too-too-too: there goes the horn; away, away, away! "forrard, forrard, get forrard!" and before the good ones are over the fence, and the field irretrievably jammed into the hand-gate at the top of the gorse, the hounds are streaming away over the next enclosure but one, with a field's start of every soul except the second whip. Never mind, it's all down hill to the first fence; and now, if ever, is the time to gallop and jump. Sir Charles and Downright are both clear of the covert: the latter, smashing a strong rail in his exit, is now blazing down the hill like a steam-engine broke loose; but let us rein our imaginary steed, and instead of riding him recklessly forward amongst "the customers," impose on him the easier task of watching the progress of our friend the baronet. He has turned his horse out of the crowd, and popped him over a thick black-looking fence with a wide ditch at the shortest notice; there is no mistake about his being a good horseman ; and now he is clear of the crowd at the top of a fifty-acre field; certainly the ridge and furrow is against him, and the mole-hills innumerable, all disagreeable, to say the least of it, when making play down hill; but the fence at the bottom is quite practicable, and the hounds are racing along the meadow beyond it, if anything turning slightly in his favour. Why does Cheek the dealer, who sold Sir Charles that very chestnut for two hundred-why does he indulge in a roguish chuckle as he gives him the go-by on a well-bred, bad-shouldered, five-year-old, with a snaffle-bridle and a gaganything but a pleasant mount over uncertain ground? What right indeed had such a brute as that to be in front of the chestnut horse at all? Sir Charles, Sir Charles, you took twice as long to get to the bottom of that hill as you should have done. Your riding over the ridge, and furrows, and the mole hills was a display of the science of equitation, but it did not get you "forward. However, here we are at the fence, and Sir Charles has it like a man; and rising into enthusiasm when he finds himself on a flat nice piece of turf beyond, he gets hold of the chestnut and warms up into a very fair gallop, though nothing like the pace some men would get out of so capital a mount. A lucky turn brings him quite within reach of the hounds again, and going in and out of a narrow spinney close behind Tom Whipcord the huntsman, he has now an opportunity of distinguishing himself; there is a capital scent, and over the next grass field every horse must lose somewhat of his advantage-in fact, were it not for the fences few hunters would ever have a chance in a quick thing; but this fence is fair though large, the take-off sound and good, and the uncertainty beyond nothing out of the common; fifty horses might jump it a-breast. Why did Sir Charles pull his out of his stride, to follow Tom Whipcord, instead of flying it handsomely alongside of him? Being a merciful and humane man, he gave Tom a little room, and thus forty yards at least have been lost; opening the next hand-gate, because forsooth the fence is a double, places some eight or ten fellows in front of him, and this becomes a serious consideration at the next place, which is really impracticable-but in one spot, and where every one must follow. Changing his mind for a rail instead of a hairy, blindish bull-finch, the rail on a nearer inspection proving to be unnegotiable from the poached state of the ground, and having to go back to the original place, puts Sir Charles so far behind that a friendly lane and the chance of a ruck proves a temptation too strong to be resisted, and this unfortunate proceeding ensures his final discomfiture. True, he saw the run, as people call it when they give an account of themselves; but from that lane till some forty minutes afterwards, when the hounds had eaten and digested their fox, he never caught a glimpse of one of them; the intervening time being spent in a succession of disappointments and hopes deferred. He was always riding round them; now he sunk the wind, but the stout good fox went gallantly in its teeth, and of course the pace was better than ever: now he hung towards a tempting covert, and tried to bring his knowledge of wood-craft to his assistance, but in vain; "disdaining to hang in the wood, through he raced," and a gallant straight-running fox had been broken up some ten minutes before he made his appearance, doomed to hear the egotistical though enthusiastic remarks of the happy few who had " gone in front from end to end." Yet Sir Charles is a good sportsman, and as fond of the thing as possible. I believe that from day to day he makes good resolutions for the future, and that he lives on, season after season, expecting in some future run to have the best of it; and in the mean time it is a pity he should have lost so good a one as this, for good it certainly was, as Farmer Downright, who saw the whole thing from end to end, assured He had had two falls, and I did hear tumbled off once; but he never let the old mare go, and was up and at it again like a good one. He made his play at first, and having once got on good terms with the hounds was enabled to ease his mare from time to time afterwards as it suited him; but as Cheek the dealer says, "He aint much of a 'orseman aint Muster Downright, he's got no 'ands, but he's a uncommon 'ard'earted man over a country." me. John Musters, Esq., of Colwick Hall and Annesley Park, Nottinghamshire, died at his last named seat, on the 8th September last.* The family of De Musters, or de Monasteriis, is very old, and was located in Nottinghamshire prior to the time of William the Conqueror, as appears by Doomsday Book: the chief residence has for the last 200 years been at Colwick Hall, near Nottingham, which was purchased from the Byrons. Mr. Musters was born in Grosvenor-square, London, on the 6th of July, 1777, and was consequently in his 73rd year. He was the only son and heir of John Musters, Esq., of Colwick Hall, &c., &c., by Sophia Catherine, daughter and coheiress of James Modyford Heywood, Esq., of Maristow, in the county of Devon. He had an only sister, Sophia, married to Thomas Wright Vaughan, Esq., of Woodstone, Huntingdonshire, both of whom survive him. At the age of 13 he went to Eton, and at 17 to Christ Church College, Oxford, as a Gentleman-Commoner. Dr. Cyril Jackson was then Dean of Christ Church, by whom, as well as by the tutors and students, young Musters was, notwithstanding his sporting predilections, much liked. The whole routine of an university education was not then, as now, deemed so essential for a gentleman of his position; and he readily obtained his father's consent to his quitting Oxford, and accepting a company in the Nottinghamshire Militia, then quartered in Scotland, and to his pursuing those sporting occupations which were so congenial with his nature. Mr. Musters married on the 17th August, 1805, Mary Anne, only daughter of George Chaworth, Esq., the heiress and representative of the ancient family of Annesley de Annesley, Nottinghamshire, residing there before the Conquest, and of the Chaworths of Wiverton, through George Chaworth, of Wiverton, who in 1436 married Alice de Annesley, then heiress of those demesnes. Miss Chaworth was at the time of her marriage, in 1805, a minor and a ward in Chancery; and the marriage * Our readers would have reason to complain if a memoir of this distinguished sportsman did not appear in these pages as speedily as possible after the record of the above event. Mr. Musters is another proof, which was not needed, that kindliness and consideration for animals are alike characteristic of the man of courage and the true foxhunter. An idea has prevailed that the pursuits and associations of the chase were not commonly united with proper feelings for animals, temperate habits, and gentlemanly accomplishments. This memoir shows that such traits are the best indications of the genuine and successful sportsman.-ED. C took place with the approval of the late Lord Eldon, then Lord Chancellor. A late noble poet (Lord Byron) was also a devoted admirer of the young lady, and her marriage with his rival was the source of the bitter disappointment and sorrowing which he evinced in his writings at various periods of his after-life. Mr. Musters survived his wife 17 years. Four sons and three daughters were the issue of this marriage, of whom all survive except the eldest and youngest sons. The eldest son married Emily, daughter of Phillip Hamond, Esq., of Westacre, Norfolk; and John Chaworth Musters, the eldest son of that marriage, a minor, now succeeds his grandfather. Mr. Musters was a deputy-Lieutenant and Justice of the Peace for the counties of Nottingham and Derby, and was High Sheriff for Nottinghamshire in 1810. He had no senatorial ambition, and declined to be called to the House of Peers by the revived title of Lord Chaworth, on the ground (his father being then alive) that his income was not adequate; and he afterwards declined to be nominated as a candidate for the representation of his native county in Parliament, on the ground that his attachment to field sports would engross more of his time than his constituents might approve; but, in truth, he had no taste for legislatorial occupations. He took little part in politics: his principles might be styled moderately conservative. The remark must not be here omitted that the elegance of manner and attention to the accomplishments of the drawing room, for which Mr. Musters was scarcely less well known than he was for his success in manly sports, were in a great measure hereditary. His father was an excellent specimen of the old English country gentleman, celebrated both for the munificence of his household and the urbanity of his manners. He was a master of fox-hounds, and hunted the south Nottinghamshire country 35 seasons. His mother was one of the greatest beauties and most perfect gentlewomen of her day, the friend of another as renowned a beauty and accomplished noble lady, Isabella, Duchess of Rutland, the wife of Charles, fourth Duke of Rutland-Mrs. Musters was fair, the Duchess dark there are many portraits of both. Of those of Mrs. Musters, two at Colwick, a full and half length, a third at Petworth belonging to the late Lord Egremont, a fourth in the possession of her daughter Mrs. Vaughan (all by Sir Joshua Reynolds); and a fifth also in the possession of Mrs. Vaughan, by Romney, have been chiefly admired. The fuil length (as Hebe) by Sir Joshua and the picture (in a gypsey bonnet) by Romney have been engraved. At the ball at Nottingham, in honour of Lord Howe's victory of the 1st June, 1794, amid the glare of diamonds, pearls, and other jewels, ostrich feathers and flowers, Mrs. Musters' head-dress was, with admirable taste, a simple wreath formed from a branch of natural oak: three acorns from this chaste and apposite appendage were, after breakfast the following morning, planted in presence of the company, by the Countess Howe on the lawn at Colwick-all the acorns grew, were "tenderly cared for," and are now handsome trees. A friendship naturally commenced in early life between the late Mr. Musters and the present Duke of Rutland, which has continued warm and uninterrupted through life. Mr. Musters did well, whatever he undertook. Fascinating the fair sex by his singing, dancing, musical attainments, handsome and gentlemanly person, temperate habits, and cheerful and agreeable conversation. Conspicuous amongst his own sex as a runner, leaper, cricketer, angler, swimmer, and horseman he was also a good shot, and most expert in the science of" self-defence." So that it would be difficult to say wherein he most excelled-in some of these secundus paucis, in most secundus nullis. A short time before leaving Eton a pugilistic encounter took place between Musters and Assheton Smith-the latter was the elder, but Musters was the taller-it was a thoroughly determined affair, and after one and a half hours' hard fighting (both terribly punished) the seconds interfered, for neither would give in. They were friends through life. Mr. Assheton Smith still continues his career, as honourable and successful as any to be found in the annals of hunting. Long may he live! The science of self-defence (in which Mendoza then, and Jackson afterwards, gave instruction) was on several occasions turned to account by the squire, and in a way that gave satisfaction to every one. Of a thrashing which, in returning with a party from Covent Garden theatre, he gave a lot of bullying fellows; and on another occasion, an election scene, where he was equally successful in almost annihilating a fellow brought in terrorem by the opposite party; the writer of this memoir has not sufficiently authentic data, whence to narrate the particulars. A scene, however, that occurred in Yorkshire described by an eye witness, the late J. B. Story, Esq., of Lockington, is too rich not to be detailed. The squire and Mr. Story happening to be at Scarboro' about the 12th of August, and hearing that there were not far off some open moors (i.e. ground on which gentlemen could take their sport, as on the Duke of Devonshire's moors at Buxton), sent off for their guns, dogs, and shooting paraphernalia. Their guide, either ignorantly or intentionally, allowed them to transgress the march, and they got into a preserved district, where in a valley they had both just killed right and left, when up came the gamekeeper, a six feet two, 17 stone, burly Yorkshireman of 35, accompanied by his couple of underlings. The following brief colloquy and "turn up sued. en Gamekeeper, in the broad dialect of the Wolds: "Well, gentlemen, you are amusing yourselves noicely-who be ye?" Mr. Musters: "Why, my friend, I hope we are not wrong; we suppose we are shooting on the open moors." Gamekeeper: "You be d――d, you are upon Lord ———ʼs moors, a mile from t'other moor; and you know'd this as well as me.' Mr. M.: "Well, if we are off our ground I regret it; here is my card, give it with my compliments to your master, and say I will write to him." Gamekeeper: "Oh, be d-d, I've nought to do with cards; we ought to take your guns, but be off; howsimever, we mun have your game" -accompanying the words by walking up to the servant who was carrying the bag, Mr. M.: "You had better not try that." Mr. M.: "Because I shall not let you.' Gamekeeper blows out a sort of ridiculing ejaculation signifying "preposterous !" and walks vigorously towards the man with the game. |