66 66 By the from his own bitches, and by sires from various kennels; a hound called Grasper," from the Belvoir, has been resorted to with success, his get" being much approved of by Wingfield; the hound in colour is a dirty red, a Rutlander all over; he looks, however, like a fashionable well-bred animal, with lots of bone, and a very sensible head. bye, nothing is more remarkable in the appearance of Mr. Drake's hounds than the long handsome faces by which they are distinguished, with plenty of depth in the jowl, and good high crowns. A large wellformed head gives a "fine finish" to a foxhound. I think it is Will Crane who says "that big head, sir, has got a world of mischief in it for the foxes." Gossamer," by Grasper," is a specimen of the sire quite sufficient to justify Wingfield's predilection for the blood, being as perfect a foxhound as huntsman could wish. "Duster" is another stallion hound, equally worthy of honour, having supplied the pack with many a noble hound stout in limb and heart. Warbler," bred by Mr. Drake, is another that has contributed in no small degree to the credit of the pack; this fine old hound dropped dead in a fit about the middle of last month. 66 66 66 There are fifty-three couples and a half of working hounds in the Bucknell kennels, of which, as huntsman, Tom Wingfield may be justly proud. His father, the celebrated Tom Wingfield, who is still hearty, and living in Derbyshire, never hunted the country with a stouter pack, and could not have given more general satisfaction than the present man. This is Tom's nineteenth season with Mr. Drake; he has a quiet manner with hounds, particularly in drawing, and in chase never loses his head; he has an especial taste for a good hunting run, and likes a fox to stand an hour before his hounds better than thirty minutes; in the saddle Tom looks like a workman, and out of it his hounds prove by their condition that he knows his business. It will be fresh in the memory of all connected with hunting that he was presented with a very flattering testimonial by the gentlemen of Mr. Drake's hunt-a silver tankard full of sovereigns-in proof of their regard for him as a valuable servant and clever huntsman. Ox The hunting blood in Tom's veins should never become extinct. fordshire should see to that: a cross between his stock and Jem Hill's could not fail to hit the happy "nick" which Mr. Tom Smith speaks of when he alludes to two good hounds of different qualities coming together, and producing a combination of those qualities which render the offspring invaluable. Supposing, for instance, a young one to have two such men as Tom Wingfield and Jem Hills for grandsires, he would come into the world, to a dead certainty, with an intuitive knowledge of the country from Chapel House to Stratton Audely; and, if dropped in the great Claydon Woods or Wychwood Forest, would be sure to find his way either to the Heythrop or Bucknell kennels by instinct; but, seriously, in him would the "nick" be proved whether the distinctive talents of these two artists could be united or not in one person. Wingfield has two very quick men to assist him, in Ben Goddard and Tom Powell; the former has been five or six seasons with this pack, and is own brother to the Heythrop first whip, Jack Goddard; Powell has also been many years with Mr. Drake; both are mounted on thorough-bred tits; a silver-tailed one especially, by" Oppidan," is as clever as a cat, and has a remarkable turn of speed as well. SPORTING INCIDENTS AT HOME AND ABROAD. (From the MS. Life of the Hon. Percy Hamilton.) COMMUNICATED TO AND EDITED BY LORD WILLIAM LENNOX. CHAPTER XI. A Morning at the "Old Ilats"-Extraordinary Pigeon Matches-An eccentric Baronet-Sadlers' Wells "real water" in by-gone times-Cremorne Gardens, and Aquatic Tournament of the present day-Private Theatricals-" All that we want is to settle the play"-Memoirs of the De Tourville family. "Have you been to Ealing, sir? Heigh, sir! Ho, sir! Have you been to Ealing, sir--Ho? Oh, yes, I have been sir, With flint and percussion blow! How style you that sporting band? Heigh, sir! Ho, sir! How style you that sporting band-Ho? If fame be no liar, These men of quick fire By name of the Old Hats Club go." SONG sung at the Anniversary Meeting of the Agreeable to the appointment made at the Red House by our new sporting ally, the Squire drove up to Mrs. Packharness's door punctually at twelve o'clock on the Thursday after our pigeon match at Battersea, and having sent in his card to Dr. Dodd, easily obtained permission for Kirkonnel and myself to pass the day with him, so as to return the following morning before school hours. Having doffed our Dean's Yard gear, and decked ourselves out in our best sporting attire, we mounted the Squire's well appointed phaeton, and bowled away at the rate of ten miles an hour to the Old Hats, on the Uxbridge road. Here we found a large assemblage of real thorough-bred sportsmen congregated to witness the match for 100 guineas, at thirty yards, with five traps of twelve birds each, between the Squire and a celebrated shot of that day; after some excellent shooting upon both sides, our new acquaintance, to our great delight, was declared the winner, having killed eleven out of twelve. A sweepstakes was then proposed and made, in which Kirkonnel and myself took part, the Squire standing our stakes; but although we received six dead birds each in advance, we found we could not compete with the gunners of the Old Hats Club; the Squire was again successful, having killed nine double shots out of ten, and the first bird out of the eleventh, making nineteen birds out of twenty. "Bravo, Squire," said a young man, addressing the winner of the sweepstakes, "I congratulate you. I'll bet a hundred to ten no one beats your performance.' "Thank you, Sir Thomas. I heard of your episcopal prowess yesterday," responded the other. "Has rumour exaggerated the feat ?" "I believe not," responded the Baronet. I was walking down St. James'-street with S, and the Bishop of was ahead of us. I'll bet you five guineas that I leap over his Lordship, wig, shovel-hat, and all,' I exclaimed. 'Done!' said the gallant Guardsman. No sooner said than accomplished, for, taking a small run, I topped the prelate, to whom I respectfully apologized for the liberty I had taken, and pocketed my wager in as small a space of time as I have occupied in narrating the circumstance." The hero of this extraordinary leap was an eccentric individual, as may be gathered from the above and other feats. Upon one occasion, in coming up to town to attend a levee, when "George the Third was king," Sir Thomas came part of the journey in a butcher's cart, and having quarrelled with the knight of the cleaver, the affair ended in a personal contest, in which the Baronet came off successful. Upon making his bow, and being asked by the Monarch when he came to town, Sir Thomas replied, Only three days ago, your Majesty;" adding, in a confidential tone, " you heard that I licked the butcher.' This uncourtly remark shocked the delicate ears of the lords and officers in waiting, but delighted the kind-hearted king, who burst out into a loud laugh at the quiet manner in which the subject had described his fistic encounter. To return to the Old Hats. At five o'clock the members of the club and their friends sat down to dinner, the Squire in the chair, supported by Kirkonnel and myself on his right and left hand. The repast was excellent, and the wines of the first quality. After drinking the healths of the President, members of the Club, the winners of the match and sweepstakes, the losers, the strangers (for which honour Kirkonnel returned thanks in what the newspapers term a neat and appropriate"), we drank success to the trigger, and broke up for the evening. "Now, young ones, what's to be done?" asked the Squire. "Astley's, the little theatre in the Haymarket, Circus, or Sadler's Wells, are all open-say which it shall be." We decided upon Sadler's Wells, the attraction being a comic pantomime, with Joe Grimaldi as clown, and one of those admirably got up melodramas with "real water," for which this theatre was then so celebrated. While upon the subject of the pure element, we cannot refrain from referring to an entertainment now in existence, and which exceeds any former attempt of the sort; we allude to the Aquatic Tournament off Cremorne Gardens. A certain portion of Old Father Thames is dammed in, and encircled by barges moored together; in this reservoir some halfdozen painted boats, with gallant looking prows, each having a small platform at the stern, are being rowed about by sailors in men-of-war's attire. After Neptune, with trident in hand, his young and blooming Nereides, and Britannia, have taken their seats in their shell palace, the knights, armed with lances, and attended by their squires, enter the boats; the tilting then commences, and after a bout or two, one or both of the competitors are immersed in the river to try the effect of the cold water cure; the trusty squires, acting as Newfoundland dogs, jump in to save their masters, and flounder and splash about, until the dripping heroes and their lances are safely rescued from the dangers of the deep. The wrestlers then take their station upon a raft anchored in the centre, and commence their scientific prowess, which terminates by having their courage cooled in the gentle Thames. The knights then re-appear sword in hand, and display some severe cutting and thrusting, until an unfortunate overreach or slip of the foot plunges the heroes in the watery abyss; swimming matches, diving, and walking the oscillatory greased bowsprit extending over the water, and other feats of natation, terminate the sports of the flood. The gardens then continue their attractions until near midnight, and among them may be mentioned (we quote from the bills) Lieutenant Gale's day and night ascents in balloons, the former with parachutes and monkeys, the latter with the gallant officer discharging from the car a magnificent feu d'artifice, by the Chevalier Mortram, at an altitude of 500 feet-Grand vocal and instrumental concert-Laurent's band of 50 performers-Bal d'été— Grand ballet of Telemachus-Illuminated pagoda, orchestra, and monstre platform for dancing-Brilliant Arcadian grove-Gigantic firework temple, splendid pyrotechnic display by Mortram-Tyrolean brass band -Rifle gallery-Wonderful performance of the Sylvani family-Switzerland by moonlight-Magnificent suspension bridge-Gipsies' home -Swiss cottage-and river esplanade." Independent of the above attractions, "the feast of reason and the flow of bowl" may be indulged in either al fresco, or in the well-arranged hotel. To those who wish a few hours' recreation, and change of air from the parched London streets to the breeze on the Thames, we strongly recommend a visit to Cremorne-the Tivoli of our country. "I'm at my old lunes digression," as Byron writes, and forget that I am recording the "sayings and doings" of more than thirty years ago, long before Cremorne Gardens were even in a state of prospective existence. One event occurred during the period I was under Mrs. Packharness's roof, which I must record, as the result of it might have been attended with the most momentous consequences to my after life, and converted the still happy bachelor Percy Hamilton into Benedict the married man. Among our associates at Westminster was a most gentlemanlike youth, whose reputed father, a Frenchman, held a high situation in the ballet department of the Opera House. The son had followed in his father's steps-we mean no pun-and had already made a favourable début in a piece of dumb show at the Pantheon Theatre, since converted into the bazaar of that name. Billy Sanders had introduced young De Tourville to us, and as both Kirkonnel and myself were devoted to theatricals, the acquaintance soon ripened into one of a most friendly nature. At this period amateur performances were very much the rage, and having accompanied Frank Alderson to a representation of Henry the Fourth, in a private theatre in the neighbourhood of Gray's Inn Lane, Kirkonnel and myself got so bit with the mania that we determined to study sundry scenes out of different plays, so as to be prepared, in case a favourable opportunity should occur, of giving our friends a taste of our quality." In this scheme we were ably supported by a young nobleman-alas! now no more-and who in after life showed histrionic powers of no mean order, as those who witnessed his perform 66 ances in the garrison theatricals of Quebec, Halifax, and Corfu, could bear testimony to. During our stay at Westminster, I have omitted to say that every Saturday Kirkonnel and myself went home for masters, one to teach us the polite accomplishments of walking, bowing, and dancing, and the other to instruct us in elocution, and to these lessons we easily prevailed upon Lord F (the nobleman I have above alluded to) to accompany us. Great was the surprise of Mr. Simson, our oratorical master, when instead of passing our hour in an idle manner, we requested him to select passages from Shakespear and other dramatic writers that would suit the powers of the stage-stricken trio. This was accordingly done, and in a few weeks we were, to use a green-room phrase, letter-perfect" in the best scenes of Julius Cæsar, Othello, and Douglas. 66 After a certain time, we had, under the superintendence of young De Tourville, and with the able assistance of the housekeeper at home, converted sundry sheets into Roman togas, and cricket shoes into sandals ; these, with the addition of some yards of tartan, a second-hand tunic, and Moorish jacket, bought in Monmouth-street, and a few stage swords, belts, shields, and gold-foil, soon completed a most respectable wardrobe for the characters we were up in. "You must take a part, De Tourville, in the holidays," said I one day to the young foreigner, as he called upon us in Dean's Yard to offer us tickets for the Pantheon. "If you will get up a ballet of action, a comic or serious pantomime, I shall be delighted," replied young Alphonse," but in tragedy my accent would only produce a laugh." "A ballet or pantomime! Capital!" exclaimed Kirkonnel, Lord F, and myself. and myself. Which shall it be?" 66 While talking over the pros and the cons of this important subject, the cry of Cary going in!" put an end to our conversation, and we agreed to meet De Tourville, after five, at Bridgeman's, the pastrycook's, Millbank, there to discuss some ices and the question of the ballet or pantomimic performance. No sooner was school over, than off we ran towards the spot now occupied by Vauxhall Bridge, where, in those days, we were wont to bathe, and on the banks of which was established what the Etonians call an excellent" sock shop." Before we turned into Millbank, it occurred to both Kirkonnel and myself that as we owed the worthy purveyor of ices, sponge cakes, penny tartlets, and calves-feet jellies no inconsiderable sum, that it might be difficult to get "tick" for further supplies, and as De Tourville was to be our guest the perplexity was increased. "Would Ginger lend us five shillings?" asked F. "I fear, not," responded Kirkonnel; and echo answered "Not!" "What say you to trying Mascall. I owe him two pounds for gloves on my own account," said I. "In for a penny, in for a pound. ask him for the loan of half a guinea." I'll We entered the emporium of gloves, gaiters, garters, and braces, and found the worthy proprietor seated behind his counter. "What can I have the pleasure of showing you, young gentlemen," said he, rising as we entered. |