(more than his colour, though there may be something, too, in that) to do with his obtaining shots for his owner. A great big setter who gallops high, lashes his tail about like a lion, and walks upright to his game, will often raise the birds, when a low dog, that gently steals away, and crouches close to the ground, the instant he touches on the scent, will" have" them! Whenever a dog points, the shooter should endeavour to spring the birds so as to secure the fairest shots he can, and especially for the second barrel. From the dog's manner (and this his master should study, as equally good dogs vary in their modes of indicating their approach to game), and the direction of his head, he may generally form a good idea whereabouts the birds are, and will go directly up to them, will head them, or will walk across between the dog and them, according to circumstances; generally facing the wind himself, and, therefore, flushing them against it; which causes them to rise with greater reluctance and difficulty, and, therefore, slower; thus allowing him more time to perceive the probable direction of their flight, and to select his first shot accordingly. The caution observed by the most cognoscent of the gentlemen of the trap, when they have to deal with " a pair of old blues," and have to face the wind blowing across, is to shoot at that bird first which has the wind the most in its favour; because the volume of smoke is blown clear away from, instead of across, the shooter's vision, or into his eyes; by which means, not only is his sight of the second bird unclouded, but the bird itself, meanwhile, has been "detained," more or less, "by contrary winds." And this plan is also well deserving a place in the memory of the game-shooter. In still weather, as most shooters can hit a bird flying to the left, better than one crossing to the right, it will generally be found advisable to fire first at the latter, especially if a cross shot to the left be immediately afterwards likely to present itself: but, in nearly all cases where birds are wild, quickness (for if you hesitate you are lost) in firing the first barrel is the grand secret in killing double shots in brilliant style; unquestionably, at once the most difficult, interesting, and beautiful feature in all shooting. But the shooter should not only endeavour to spring the birds in a way the most likely to prove favourable to his getting present shots, but should also strive, by intercepting them, to divert the direction of their flight from covert to 'vantage ground*-such as turnips, small patches of gorse, young plantations, with long dry grass at the bottom, ling, fern on warrens, &c., where he may shortly afterwards have the pleasure of popping at them, again and again, as they get up singly; and not improbably, at last, may be able to give a very satisfactory account of the whole covey. At the same time, when birds are wild, the shooter ought, generally, to spring them as he considers best for the immediate shot, regardless of the course they may afterwards choose to take. For, one bird in 66 Although no advocate for a host of mobbing markers, yet when birds are wild, and game is much wanted, I see no harm in making your only attendant useful. You will often find your account in planting him on a gate, or eminence, as a marker; and, when it is more convenient, or advisable, to have him near to you, he may sometimes be placed as an auxiliary to turn the birds in the direction you wish them to go. Various little preconcerted signals, also, should be mutually understood betwixt you, so that you may telegraph to advantage at a distance. hand," &c. But as there are exceptions to all rules, so are there cases, even where birds are wild, when actual forbearance from shooting at all, or, in other words, letting the birds go quietly away, will prove the shooter's best policy. In countries where birds are exceedingly scarce, and such are becoming more and more numerous every season, it is a good plan, whenever a single or "odd bird" rises within shot, or even as a long shot, to fire, without waiting for a nearer rise, or for the expected remainder of the covey springing at your feet; because it frequently happens that the wild rising bird is an orphan, and, it may be, the sole survivor of a family of sixteen; and, if more be left, you still have your second barrel in reserve. By attending to this rule, I have frequently bagged my brace or two of oddlings in a day, where many shooters, on coming home, would have declared they had not had the chance of a single shot. Two halves are equal to a whole, and a brace of birds is no bad morning's work for the latter end of the season, at least in countries where shots, at best, are "few and far between." These odd birds are as generally as erroneously considered old ones, which, after October, is rarely the case. "MY FIRST DEAL," BY LORD WILLIAM LENNOX. "First shuffle, and then deal."-HOYLE'S GAMES. In the winter of 182-. I found myself in London, after my return from America. Two years of my life I had passed in that country, and the three previous ones with the army of occupation in France. Therefore, though not very green in age, I was awfully so in the ways of the world, especially the London horse-dealing world; and the instance I am about to relate, should it not prove amusing, may at least warn others as to the shuffling pack that constitutes the London deal-ers. I write of the year 182-. For all I know to the contrary, a new generation of honest men may have sprung up in that calling. But to my story: my regiment was quartered at Windsor, and I had a month's leave before Christmas, when I was to join. This time was to be occupied in fitting myself out with chargers, uniforms, &c., &c. At the period I write of, I enjoyed (as I am proud to say I do still), the friendship of as noble-spirited and kind-hearted a creature as ever drew the breath of heaven. He was then a young guardsman, and proved, by his courage and coolness in the Cato-street conspiracy, that, however much the troops "who live at home at ease' may be looked upon as carpet knights," upon every occasion where their services are required against the enemies of their country, they will, in the words of their chief, "Up, guards, and at them." My VOL. VII. 66 3 H young friend, though devoted to Mars, was a great disciple of Diana, and delighted in the chase, the "Shadow of glory! Dim image of war!" and that feeling was considerably increased by his intimacy with the then "observed of the observers,"- -one who, from his fortune, and kindly qualities, had the ball (some say a golden one) at his feet. In this intimacy I shared, and imbibed a strong love of the chase from the many 66 splendid runs" that were daily recounted over a bottle or more (as the case might be) of right excellent (Cutler and Wilson's) claret, in the snug coffee-room of the Clarendon Hotel, in Jacquière's best days. At that period, dining clubs had not even a prospective existence, and the "men about town" were driven to the elegant, though rather extravagant luxuries of Grillon's and Jacquière's, or the more rural fare-marrow-bones and bee's-wing port-of the Piazza, instead of enjoying, as they do now, and for the lowest possible charge, the good, plain, punctual dinners of the United Service, the comfort of White's, the magnificence of the Reform and Carlton Clubs, and last, not least, the Apician feasts at Crockford's. But I have digressed. "Now turne again my teme, thou jolly swaine, Backe to the furrow which I lately left." Our usual convivial trio had assembled at the Clarendon, at the table nearest the fire, in one of those snug boxes, now, alas! like a good many other old arrangements, extinct, except in commercial rooms and city chop-houses, the consequence of which is, that the conversation of one table is heard by the occupiers of all the others, and private communications must of necessity be put an end to. "A devilled biscuit, and another bottle of Cutler and Wilson!" exclaimed the guardsman, as the venerable waiter made up the fire. "Why not a magnum?" asked l'homme du jour, "we must drink fox-hunting." "Agreed, agreed!" echoed the triumvirate, "and then we'll have your wonderful run in Leicestershire. I hear you went 'rayther' faster than lightning, and looked as if you had a letter to deliver personally to the fox." The waiter reappeared with a magnum of claret, and a plate of devilled biscuits, that would have furnished a good first lesson in fire-eating to any modern Chabert. "Well, here's fox-hunting!" Fox-hunting!"-"Fox-hunting!" we repeated, as we each drank a "potation pottle deep" of the rosy wine. "And now for the run. We met ('twas in a crowd) at Shoby Scoales. I rode Carver, Tom, Gilder, as my second- ""And, of course," interrupted "you carved out all the work." "Carver," continued the former speaker, "has earned a new name, 'The Scythe,' for he cuts all down. Well, we met at Shoby Scoales, and there is scarcely a better meet, even in Leicestershire. A finer scenting morning could not be, nor a more splendid field. The hounds were thrown into cover, and they had not been long there, before a favourite old hound challenged gallantly. We all prepared for a start, but were held in check by the master of the hounds crying-' Hold hard!-let them get fairly out, and settle a little to the scent; then ride over them if you can!' They very soon broke, and the scent was so good that they dropped their sterns, raised their heads, and went away breast high. We 66 66 checked in Frisby Gorse. After a short breathing, our fox broke again as gallant as ever, and took us, at a slashing pace, up to a gorse near Great Dalby. But we made it too hot to hold him, and away he went through Gadsby, near Queenborough, towards Syston, where, turning to the right, he crossed the Leicester road, and led us to Mount Sorrel. Here we ran into this gallant animal, near the windmill on the hill, and thus ended one of the finest runs I ever saw." We filled bumpers to the chase, and parted for the night. The following morning I was up early, and proceeded forth in my tilbury, for in those days hack cabs were not in existence, and gentlemen could not have a mile of manslaughter for eightpence. My first visit was to Mat Milton, from whom my guardian had just purchased my first chargers. Making myself known to the ostler, a small bell was rung, and the master of the horse appeared. Hope the nag suited you, my Lord," exclaimed the dealer; "he's a little 'orse, ondeniable action-quiet as a lamb-has carried a lady." "He has turned out very well," I replied, "and is now with the regiment, to be broken in." "Broke in!—he wants no breaking!-why one of them long-legged Brobdignag fellows, called rough riders, are enough to spile any 'orse." Little did the great poet's namesake know of the class he libelled, who, for hand, seat, temper, courage, and perfect knowledge of the manège, yield to none. "I hate," continued Mat, "to see them lumbering troopers, with their toes well up and in, their heels well down and out, small of the body well furrard (I should like to know where the small of their bodies is), wristesses well rounded. But what can I show you, my Lord? I have 'em of all sorts and sizes. I've a wonderful park hack, handsome as a peacock, a reg'lar lady-killer, only two hundred and fifty guineas." "Two hundred and fifty guineas!" muttered I to myself," nearly a year's pay!—if he asks that sum for a hack, what will he require for a hunter?" At last I took courage, and told the worthy dealer that I wanted a hunter, and I believe I looked as sheepish as Keeley was wont, as Mr. Green, in Tom and Jerry, when he calls the attention of Mr. Tattersall to the fact of his "wanting an 'unter." "I've just the horse to suit you. Jem, put a saddle on the brown 'orse, him as the Duke rode last Friday. He's No. 1, letter A, and no mistake. There, walk him up quietly, now trot him down-gently, gently does it. Only play," he added, as the horse most viciously lashed out at a gaping bystander; "Bill, put up the bar-top hole-leaps like a squirrel. Now, Jem," and away went Jem, with his back bent, and his knees doubled up, and cleared the bar in style. "Get upon him, my Lord," continued the loquacious dealer; "he's as easy as a armchair; let out the stirrups, last 'ole but three." I proceeded to mount. "A hole or two longer," I exclaimed. "Oh that's sodger fashion!" said Mat; "why, them military riders hav'nt no more idear of riding than that child. I'd back that young un against the best of them across country." And the dealer would have been right, had he spoken of future years, for that child is now the very best of our steeple-chase riders. I trotted up to the bar, and my steed cleared it in most sportsmanlike manner. "What's the lowest price you ask?" said I, in a hesitating voice. "I refused 200 guineas this morning, but as you have been a customer, and the horse is made for you, I'll take pounds." "Two hundred pounds!" I mentally exclaimed, chaunting, sotto voce, "How happy's the soldier who lives on his pay, for "The price is rather too high," I said, chapfallen; "take him in." "What?" said the jocose dealer, "you admire the form, but the figure won't suit; take him home, a bill at six months will do. Sorry to send a customer away." From a particular objection to issuing bills upon my exchequer, which, like modern exchequers, was not in a most flourishing state, I declined the accommodating horse-dealer's offer. Having ascertained to what price I would go a hunter (which he technically described as under three figures), he ordered Jem to bring out "the little black mare." "She's had a slight accident, lost one of her eyes when a foal; no natural defect; an out-and-out fencer; sound (bar eye) as a roach, and the figure low." Out came Jem, mounted on the female Cyclops. "Gently, Pollyfame," said the ostler, who, having heard of Polyphemus, which he naturally took to be a female's name, had thus perverted the title of the one-eyed son of Neptune and Thoosa. "There," said Mat,"there's a picture!-nearly thorough-bred; got by Partisan, out of a Gohanna mare, three parts bred. She has all the elegance, fire, and speedy appearance of her sire, with all the Herculean strength and constitutional hardihood of her grandsire, Walton, and the beautiful symmetry and lasting game qualities of her other grandsire, Gohanna." Upon looking attentively at Pollyfame's" eyes, I fancied that there was not much to choose between them, and that she could not say, with the widow in the song, 66 "What, though I've lost one eye, I therefore declined the black mare, venturing to remark, somewhat jocosely, "that she was a bit of a screw, inasmuch as she had what was termed a gimlet eye." From Piccadilly I proceeded to Elmore's, Bean's, Bonnet's, Aldridge's, Bryant's, Cripp's, Mattam's, Osborne's, Shackel's, Dyson's, cum multis aliis, but found nothing that would suit; there was always a "but" or an "if." A chesnut gelding was perfect, but the price was a hundred more than I could afford. A brown mare would have suited me, “if” she had not had a " London cough." A grey stallion was a first-rate hunter, "but," unfortunately, was a little lame. It was now nearly dusk, and I was beginning to despair, when, in driving through a street, near a fashionable square, my attention was attracted by a board, upon which was written, in large characters," 66 dealer in horses. Hunters jobbed by the month or season." With the present law of libel staring me in the face, I shall not give the name of the dealer, but write him down " Sharpe." Upon driving up to the stable-door, Mr. Sharpe nade his appearance, and politely accosted me: "Nice little horse, sir, you are driving" (it was one of Tilbury's, hired for the day, and no man turns out better). After some further conversation, he begged to know my pleasure. I told him I required a good hunter; and that I should prefer taking one on trial, by the month. To this Mr. Sharpe replied, that he had a "sweet horse," "low figure," and, in every way, a Melton horse ;-but he |