dles. Between the handle and the candles & semicircular piece of canvass is placed, so that the light cannot shine on either the hand, face, or person of the poacher who holds the board, and he is thus enabled to discern every object placed before him more distinctly. Armed with the spear in his right hand, and holding the lights in the other, the poacher is ready to commence operations. A companion is placed on each bank of the river, and some at a considerable distance up strean and down stream, for the purpose of giving the signal whistle in case of the approach of danger or discovery from keepers or watchers, or otherwise. These midnight marauders are well aware of the habits of the trout, and act accordingly. The fish at night-time, particularly if the weather be favourable, leave the deeps, and resort to the shallows to feed. For this end, they always place themselves with the head to the stream, and to keep themselves too in this position, their tails are continually moving from side to side. The spearer then goes into the water, which is, perhaps, about two feet deep, and advances invariably up stream and in the rear of the fish. Listening for a moment that all is safe, with no sound floating on the still air, except the murmur of the stream near hand, or the fainter roar borne from a distance, whilst the light flickers about the overhanging boughs, or the abrupt rock and its many dark recesses, he pushes onward, moving the lights from side to side to discern the object of pursuit. His eyes are remarkably quick, and his hand and aim equally expert and sure ; and no sooner has he observed, by the aid of the lights, a fish, placed in the stream as already described, than it is struck with the spear, and one of the barbed prongs is sure to impale his victim. The prize is instantly secured, and thrown to his “mate ” on the bank for his safe keeping. Scarcely a trout can escape an old hand,” although one of his main objects in the capture is to secure the finest fish. Indeed, the reputation of a clever spearer is estimated by the weight which he has been enabled to kill, rather than the number ; for the heaviest trout, from two to three pounds each, fetch the most money and make the handsomest dish for the table. Should the alarm whistle be sounded, either up or down stream, the lights are instantly extinguished; the spearers leave the stream immediately, and, joining their companions, they lie down or secrete themselves in the underwood which decorates the margin of the stream, till the danger has passed. When all is again clear and still, the candles are relighted, and the spearing is resumed with increased alacrity and determination that nothing shall possibly escape their vigilance. The trout-stream poachers, like the other minions of the moon who resort to cover or open, make it an invariable rule to visit those spots which are the most rigidly preserved. The danger of detection may be greater, but the prize is more certain and valuable, and hence the truth of the remark becomes more apparent, viz., “ the more preserving, the more poaching." Nor in the present state of society with regard to the poaching fraternity does it seem possible that the law, however severe, can put an effectual stop to a practice which unites with the pleasures and excitement of the pursuit, a higher rate of profit and emolument than can be obtained by the labours of an ordinary calling. The destruction which the troutspearers make in one night may be estimated by the fact that they are enabled to return from the preserves, like those on the beautiful river Wye, laden with many stones weight of the most beautiful fish, to the deep mortification of the proprietor, as well as to the friends whom he may invite to participate in the enjoyments of fly-fishing, during the trout season, amid scenery the most beautiful, and associations the most gratifying.

OUR FIRST BRIEF.

BY VERAX.

We lately read a Cork newspaper ( The Constitution in which was an article giving an account of the remarkable duels which took place in the olden times in the Beautiful City. We were in Cork at that period; knew all the parties; the circumstances were accurately and correctly detailed, and were true in every particular. In a subsequent paper, there was an acknowledgment, and very properly so, that the article in question had been copied from the Sporting Magazine. We casually saw the magazine, and found such to be the case. We were in a reflecting mood, and many reminiscences of the Beautiful City in olden times were brought vividly before us. Time, place, and circumstances, are the great auxiliaries to memory ; in fact, memory itself is neither more nor less than an act of the mind, by which we are enabled to revive past perceptions of time, place, and circumstances. We fear we are becoming metaphysical, and what is still worse, desultory and digressive ; but our readers, if any such we have, we trust will pardon us; and moreover we are afraid we shall be considered even more so, before we come to the gist of our story, our first brief. In no part of Ireland probably could you find a greater combination of talent and eccentricity of character than both was, and is, always to be found in the city of Cork. The Southerns have always been peculiarly and pre-eminently distinguished in our universities and in the higher walks of literature ; and Cork, to the present day, maintains that high distinction. Amongst others who resided in Cork in the olden times, was a gentleman called Daniel David : we think we have sufficiently identified the individual ; he was notorious for his eccentricity of character, combined with talent the most extraordinary ; but on a particular subject, his mental power of calculation was almost incredible ; in as short a time as we take to write these few lines on this subject, he could mentally, without pen, ink, or paper, multiply five or six numbers by five or six others. No matter how complicated a debtor and creditor account may or might have been, he could unravel its intricacies and strike an accurate balance-sheet. This gentleman also had some literary notoriety ; he was proprietor of a paper-if we mistake not, the Sentinel ; it was an unstamped weekly periodical, purporting exclusively to give the local news of the Beautiful City, the arrivals and departures of the beaux and belles. It was particularly panegyrical of the ladies ; it was laudatory of their perfections in all particulars, and was peculiarly patronized by the fair sex. By a happy felicity of talent, the editor brought into propinquity with each other in his paragraphs certain beaux

and bells suitable to each other in his, the editor's, views; and many
eligible marriages were thus brought about by the happy pen of the editor.
No wonder, then, if he was patronized by the ladies ; independent of
which, the editor, from his courtesy, his politeness to all, was a general
favourite, saluted by all, and graciously returning the salute with un-
covered head and obsequious bow, he walked the streets on light fantas-
tic toe : he always, wet or dry, carried an umbrella, or umbrellas-on
a wet day umbrellas, one of which was invariably tendered to some lady
requiring its shelter ; and so Mr. Daniel David's politeness was re-
warded by an invitation to a small “ tea fight”-such was the name in
the Beautiful City. He lived at that time in the upper storey of a house
near George-street ; he did so because he thought the air was purer
and better the higher you went. His household consisted of one little
servant-of-all-work, and one domestic animal—a cat with one tail. Well
would it have been for poor Daniel, if the latter had not constituted part
of his establishment. You will say, “Why, what harm could a cat do
him?" and yet, strange to say, that same cat was the cause of all his
misery and misfortune, as you will learn in the sequel of our story.
There was a cat, but it had more tails than one, which, in by-gone
years, did much mischief in civilized life, which never made a bad man
better, but which made many a good man bad ; we hope the time is
coming when its existence and name shall be only a matter of history,
But we must return to our story: Mr. Daniel D., as we before said,
had a little servant and a cat ; he was blessed with a very good appetite,
and he invariably bought for his dinner each day one pound and a half
of either steaks or chops. Upon various and sundry occasions, he missed
part of the one or the other ; his suspicions were roused ; he charged his
little girl with the theft; she stoutly denied the charge-said it might
be or was the cat which had taken the missing part. At length the
fertile imagination of Daniel David hit off a notable way of discovering
the thief or plunderer. Now, reader, what do you think the redoubted
Daniel did ?' He weighed the cat in the morning, returned to his dinner,
missed part as usual, charged his servant-same story of the cat; he then
reweighed the cat, found Miss Tabby the same weight, not a whit
heavier; he instantly seized on his little servant, brought her before the
magistrates, stated his charge, the weighing and reweighing the cat.
The complaint was instantly dismissed by the magistrates; but mark
the sequel—what will not a day sometimes bring forth, and how will a
small and trivial circumstance often change the current of human life,
and agitate and disturb its stream which hath flowed in tranquil serenity!
Heretofore Daniel David had walked the streets of Cork self-satisfied,
self-pleased, saluting all, and returning their salutes. What a reverse
of fortune was he to experience on leaving the police office! Scarcely
had he left the office, when his ears were assailed with one loud shout
from the mob who thronged the door, “Who weighed the cat ?" Go
where he would, in the public streets, in the bye-ways, in the country,
no matter where—this horrid cry,“ Who weighed the cat ?" assailed
his ears. His temper changed: he became irritable, irascible, almost
furious; his popularity was on the wane, his paper declined.

omnia fatis
In pejus ruere, ac retro sublapsa referri."

His life from henceforward was one perpetual scene of collision and strife : daily before the magistrates, prosecutor or traverser, cause and cross-cause, clever boys and market boys, gentle and simple, dandies, would-be gentlemen, all joined in the outcry against poor Daniel David. Amongst others, were two sons of a Major then stationed in Cork; an assault followed, and Mr: Daniel David was the prosecutor, and tendered us" our first brief." We stated his case—the wanton assault committed, his uniform quiet and gentlemanly deportment in society. The prosecutor, Daniel D., was placed in the witness's chair, and detailed the assault, before his then worship, W. W., Recorder of Cork. A young and very rising barrister, Mr. F. M., long since deceased, and who, had he lived, would have been high in his profession, was employed by traversers, and cross-examined Daniel D. Mr. F. M. was a gentleman of great satirical powers, and had a very marked Roman nose ; he asked Daniel D., was he not a very pacific character. His answer, he was. Mr. F. M. put forward his face towards witness, and asked him, rather as a matter of curiosity, not evidence, “ did he really weigh the cat." The words had scarcely passed his lips, when down went Daniel D.'s umbrella, with all the might of his arm, on the very prominent nose of counsel (we said in our story, he always carried an umbrella); a copious flow of blood followed ; the Recorder started from his seat in apparent violent indignation. The trial was suspended ; his worship left the court. We and our friend the counseller compromised the affair ; we forgave traversers, and F. M., like a good-humoured fellow, forgave our friend Daniel David, who died in a few years after. So ends our story of “Our First Brief.”

CHAPTER IX. LE MARQUIS ET LE COMTE DE FUSSEY. Le Marquis et le Comte de Fussey were the most perfect specimens, types the most accomplished, of that valiant class of sportsmen, the disappearance of which from society must ever be a source of the deepest regret. Perhaps they had not had the honour of ruining themselves exactly, for that was already done for them by those of their family who came before them ; but let that be as it might, they neither of them had more than a mere pittance to exist upon, the youngest brother in particular, who was almost without means ; still, however, they contrived by economy to live on together in an old château, and to enjoy the chase almost every day of their lives. The family of Fussey is from Burgundy, where the race had flourished as persons of distinction for centuries. The old Baron de Jourzanyault, a learned genealogist, has affirmed that they had the same origin as the Sombernons, a younger branch of the house of the Dukes of Burgundy. At any rate, it is quite certain that the family of Fussey stands in the same relationship to the house of Condé as the family of Lignéville, and that during the sixteenth and seventeenth ages formed many noble alliances in France.

Faithful to the traditions of their ancestors, the Messieurs Fussey, that is to say, the Marquis and the Count, of whom we are now speaking, continued to live in Burgundy; and it is in that noble province that they have left a remembrance cherished most ardently by all lovers of the chase. No two men in this world were ever known, who were more expert and more practically scientific than these two brothers, whose whole life seemed like one long hunting-day of three-quarters of an age, enlivened by the most brilliant "hallalis” that could be imagined by the most insatiable slaughterer of the wild denizens of the forest. In spite of the gout, which, as an hereditary alliance, thought it necessary to pay them pretty frequent as well as the most excruciating visits during the latter part of their long career, these two inseparable brothers were endowed by nature with a most marvellously appropriate organization for the kind of life that they had adopted-agility and strength united ; a sound moral courage, to enable them to stand up against all hazards of fortune ; tenacity, patience, great observation ; eyes keen enough to count the tires on a deer's head at three-quarters of a league distance ; the sense of hearing so fine, that, to use an old expression, they “ could hear the grass grow, and the buds shoot on the trees ;' nothing, in fact, by way of natural gifts and accomplishments, was wanting to them to aid them in the long sylvan warfare which they carried on in the immense forests which surrounded their habitation.

I have often heard old chasseurs speak, in my youth, of the Marquis and the Count with the greatest respect, with which I felt equally inspired as if Saint Hubert himself had been the subject of our conversation. One had seen the Marquis bring down a brace of wild boars at a double shot, with his horse going at the top of his speed ; another boasted that he had learnt “ faire le bois" from the Count himself ; & third had accompanied the two brothers to England, where they went periodically for the purpose of purchasing hounds and horses ; a fourth preserved as a precious relic an old hunting-horn quite burst by being blown so long and so loud in the chase.

The stories related of their exploits would alone fill a large book, to say nothing of their discoveries and wonderful recipes, and their innumerable secrets, which died with them. As long as they lived, “ dog madness,” that Sphinx of the science, was unable to spread its ravages ; and no hound ever died in their kennel from the most cruel laceration that could be inflicted by the tusk of a wild boar. Their curiosity disdained no means, however humble, of obtaining useful information, and their experience was very rarely at fault ; they formed their opinion of the capabilities of a horse from the way in which he pulled his hay from the rack, and of the goodness of a limier from the manner in which he lapped his soup. People brought their hound-bitches a hundred leagues to their kennel, for the sake of a well-bred alliance : they even brought their packs to be broken, mad-dogs to be cured, new piqueurs to be tried as to their capabilities; and half the old women in the neighbourhood brought their boys, who had learnt nothing but how to drive