principle was patience and perseverance with his hounds. These were the prominent grounds of his success; so frequently killing his fox, his hounds were accustomed to and were as bent on blood as free from riot; hence the extraordinary runs every season. On a check, after first allowing his hounds their own voluntary fling or range, he was quick as lightning in his casts, and almost invariably successful, appearing to the field to possess an intuitive knowledge of reynard's route. He generally cantered forward down wind, then made a wide cast up wind along a grass lane or mere, if he found such in the line which he expected the fox had taken. He was of opinion that the best auxiliary to a pack of fox-hounds in a country was a pack of harriers, for that the latter routed up the outlying foxes from the turnip fields, hedge-rows, and spinneys, and sent them back to their proper rendezvous. A blank day he considered was often caused, in a mild season, by such outlying foxes never being forced back into their own coverts.

Mr. Musters' method with dogs may be said to have been perfect. Virgil's advice,

"Nec tibi cura canum fuerat postrema,"

was well carried out by him. The famous hounds of Sparta were not better attended to than his, in breeding, feeding, exercising, and the entire system which is necessary to have good hounds so equal to their work that they may, in the poetic force of the Mantuan bard,

"Urge the bold chase, and joining in full cry

O'er hills and vales, thro' thickest woodlands fly."

His hounds reciprocated his attention. The squire could do anything with them; in hunting he handled them as easily as a brace of well broke pointers; he had thoroughly ingratiated himself with them; his melodiousness of voice and blandness of manner had a wonderful influence over hounds. It is evident that these attributes are not less effective on the canine than the human race. He had a strong objection to the lash, and maintained that more good dogs (hounds, pointers, and every other class of hunting dog) were utterly ruined by the indiscriminate and cruel use of the whip than it was possible to imagine. He advocated the careful breeding of dogs; but he said, if after reasonable time and opportunity a hound did not turn out well, let him at once be put away, but not be flogged to pieces by a ruthless whipper-in. Mr. Musters' own dogs, hounds, pointers, and spaniels, practically illustrated the truth of the above. In confirmation of the fact and anecdote connected therewith related by Mr. Vyner, of the extraordinary attachment of Mr. Musters' hounds to him, another may be here mentioned :

When Lord Middleton went down to the kennels at Colwick and bought the hounds, he was particularly struck by the fondness evinced by them for the squire, and imagined it to be the result of his particular attention in the kennel. His lordship accordingly became unweariedly assiduous in noticing the hounds at his kennels at Wollaton, in order to ingratiate them in the same way, but in vain. Thereupon he sent to the old feeder at Colwick, and offered him a handsome sum if he would tell him the secret; the noble lord at the same time intimating his impression that Mr. Musters carried with him some bullock's liver scented in a peculiar way. "Lord bless you, my lord," was the off-hand

answer, "it's nought of the sort; I have often wondered the same thing, and why I as fed 'em was treated so unrespectful by 'em, whenever the squire came into the kennel, but he never gave 'em anything: it's all because they've such a natʼral love for him.'

Mr. Musters always urged the giving hounds plenty of work, which he said was the surest means of their getting plenty of blood. This was his principle, and he adopted it satisfactorily and successfully. He thought there was much less danger in having too few than too many hounds in a kennel.

He re

It is worthy of record that after the squire (as he was par excellence usually designated in his own district) became unable to hunt, he continued as ardent and liberal a supporter of the sport as ever. tained his ability and comparative fondness for shooting; but when beating his woods with that object, it afforded him more pleasure to find one fox than a hundred pheasants. On one of these occasions one of the party observing his gratification when from a thicket was sprung a fox instead of an expected pheasant, said, "Why, squire, no hounds hunt Annesley now.' "That's true," answered he; "but to destroy a fox within twenty miles of the country usually hunted admits of no justification.'

He admired not cigar smoking in the hunting field, and was wont to say that all inebriating habits were incompatible with hunting, for he thought that a man so indulging could not have either eyes, ears, or other faculties so alive as they otherwise ought to be properly to enjoy fox-hunting. He considered, moreover, that the introduction of smoking into the hunting-field, irrespective of other objections, often led fashionable juveniles into a hemisphere for which naturally they had no business or true inclination, and who unconsciously and unintentionally marred many a day's sport. These may be prejudices, but this memoir would be imperfect if they were omitted. So to compensate we will conclude with a refreshing scene.

A few seasons ago, almost the last that Mr. Musters hunted South Notts., the Quorn hounds, with Tom Day, found their fox at Bunny, and brought him by Bradmore, Ruddington, and Plumptre to Tollerton. On the same day the squire had found his fox at Edwalton, and was running him by Gamstone towards Cotgrave, when either his hounds got on the run of the other fox or vice versa. Both packs, however, immediately joined and ran all well together, with their sterns down, up wind, by Clipstone and Normanton Wolds, pulling the fox down in less than ten minutes from the junction, in an ash holt near to the Melton turnpike road. It was a scene which none who witnessed ever can forget. The old squire and Tom Day each claiming it to be his run fox, riding side by side over every fence with all the keen ardour and genuine pluck which each had always possessed: each recognizing and pointing to particular hounds then a-head and running for their fox as his; each cheering on his own favourites. "Look at my Watchman and Anxious," exclaims Mr. Musters. "Ah, but squire," answers Day, "sce our old Lounger and Purity; Purity means to have at him first, and will." finish soon takes place. Day jumped off his horse quickly, and was as speedily over the fence and into the plantation, the squire close after him. Day seizing reynard, ejaculated, "It's my fox, squire, I'll swear it at the day of judgment," and he strutted along, holding him in his hand,

The

and crowing like a bantam cock of the purest breed, the squire at his side, looking like a fine old game cock that had won his hundred battles and could afford the other's triumph. He denied, but Day persisted that it was his run fox, and there was no further wrangling except by the hounds in eating him. Then occurred another pleasing scene. The squire and Day drawing by alternate call their respective hounds, which was speedily done, all jealous feelings subsided, and civil greetings were exchanged on departing.

This brief memoir cannot be better concluded than in the language of two of Mr. Musters' cotemporaries, both well qualified, from rank, judgment, and personal knowledge, to speak upon the subject. "Long,' writes the first, "will it be ere the sporting world meet with one to contribute so largely to their pleasure as Mr. Musters has done." "Many a happy day," writes the other, "have I spent with him both in the field and drawing-room; it was a matter of doubt which he adorned the most. He was the best sportsman I ever knew. George the Fourth considered him one of the most perfect gentlemen he had known." Park, Nottingham, Oct., 1849.

THE BRITISH YEOMAN.

WINNER OF THE GREAT METROPOLITAN STEEPLE-CHASE, 1849.

ENGRAVED BY E. HACKER, FROM A PAINTING BY W. BARRAUD.

The British Yeoman, a bay horse, bred by Mr. V. Corbet in 1839, was got by Count Porro, out of Pintail, by Pioneer, her dam Ringtail by Buzzard, her dam by Trentham out of Cytherea, sister to Drone, by Herod Lily, by Blank.

Count Porro, bred by Mr. Lambton in 1822, was by Leopold, out of Wathcote Lass, by Remembrancer, her dam-Gratitude's dam-by Walnut Ruler - Piracantha, by Matchem. The Count was but a bad race-horse, having during the three seasons he was in training never won anything but a fifty-pound plate. As a stud-horse, too, he does not rank high; for beyond a couple of fairish mares, Jemima and Miss Maria, the property of Sir Richard Bulkeley, and his great card The Yeoman, there has been nothing out by him to "signify." His stock, however, were generally handsome, with—a family likeness-particularly good, blood-like heads. He is dead.

Pintail, bred by Mr. Rush in 1824, and the last of a dozen foals her dam produced, never ran but once, when she was not placed, in a two-year-old stake at Newmarket. She was sold the following spring, at the hammer, to Mr. Corbet, who bred from her for some seasons with but indifferent success. Our friend "the Racing Man," though, is so well up (as the lawyers say) in this case, that to make the history complete we repeat the following from his account of the