like a mop-stick, and at times tossing up the earth with powerful horns. I, in common with several of the party, raised my rifle to my shoulder, took deliberate aim, blazed away, amid a regular volley of small-arms, and commenced re-loading. The bull stopped short; those near him did so likewise, despite the violent rushing and concussion of those in the rear; and then, bellowing more furiously than ever, the whole herd (save and except the wounded bull) bounded off across the prairie to the right. Leaving two Indians to cut up and prepare the bull in question, we mounted, clapped spurs to our mustangs, and followed hotly in pursuit.

The ground was dry, the prairie-grass short, our mustangs fresh from several days' rest, and we bounded away over the plain, in high glee and spirit: the buffaloes, keeping in tolerable order, did the same, stamping, bellowing, bowing their great shaggy, horned heads to the ground, as if to vent their fierce rage upon the earth. Away we flew after them. The chase was splendid, the ride delightfulthe sun was clear, bright, and gay-the sweet south shook the dewdrops from the budding trees

"The flowers sprang wanton to be prest,

The birds sang love on every sray."

But then we marked not this: the hunt, the buffalo was all we saw, or cared to see. Mine was the best horse of the lot, and we went ahead right merrily, the whole party following in our wake, head up and tail and mane streaming. My mustang, which had both blood and bottom, appeared quite flattered with his leading position, and, having once got fairly started, I found it an useless effort to stay him he kept along, tossing his head and neighing, as if to say "Come on there!" And on they came, clatter! clatter! clatter! the Indians, without saddles, urging on their steeds by heel and hand. The Indian chief, mounted on a beautiful bay, who had trod close upon my heels all the while, now came up side by side with my mustang, and we went at it hip and thigh with rare alacrity and earnestness. I felt my blood up, and spared neither whip nor spur to keep my position. Still on went the buffaloes, though we were perceptibly gaining on them. An hour passed away, and we were close on their heels, when, reining in our horses and dismounting hastily, we fired. Three cows and a bull stopped in their mad career -one of the former fell lifeless, the others merely halted a minutewhen the two cows darted off, followed by several of our party, while the bull rushed upon us. Í and the Indian chief were his especial marks. Loading hastily, we fired both at the same time, and he fell crippled; it required, however, another shot from a pistol to finish. him. We then proceeded, in due form, to cut him up, and pack him scientifically; which having done also with the cow, and placed them on a led horse and on that of an Indian, we pursued our chase, leaving him to return to the camp on foot with his loaded beasts of burden.

The herd of buffaloes had been closely followed up by our companions, and we, not wishing to be behind-hand, pressed on, skirting the edge of a creek, along which was a narrow belt of timber; be

side this the buffaloes had taken their way. Several cracks, both of rifles and muskets, were distinguished, when suddenly a terrific roar was heard, and, cre a minute had elapsed, it was plainly seen that our companions had turned the drove, which was coming furiously back upon their former trail. Of course, our position was far from being an agreeable one: to stand still was death, to take to our heels across the prairie was to risk being overtaken by angry beasts. The Indian decided the question by dismounting and taking to the cover of the nearest thicket. I followed his example as quickly as possible; and having secured our horses, we grasped our rifles and prepared for action. About fifty yards distant to our right, whence the herd was rushing, was the brow of a slight hill, which came sloping down towards us. The opposite declivity was somewhat steep: up this the goaded and enraged animals tore, and, reaching the crest of the hillock, flew rather than ran down its face. Some twenty had passed, when I singled out a fat, young cow; and letting fly, she came tumbling headlong to the foot of the slope. Another crack followed: the Indian had fired, wounding a huge and powerful bull. The whole troop were once more in motion, in a horizontal direction, and we after them, an Indian of the other party stopping to take charge of my prize.

Away we were again; it is true not quite so fresh and helter-skelter as in the morning, but still keeping pretty close to the buffaloes; which, it will readily be believed, were themselves not quite so fresh as they had been, as they equally with ourselves had had what may be called a pretty good dance. We came up to the rear guard, after a short space of time had clapsed, and again blazed away. Our aim was, I suppose, more true than usual; for this time seven of the drove lagged behind, one of these being the bull wounded by the Indian chief, which came to the ground on his fore-knees. In an instant we were round him; he gave a fierce and angry bellow, and, springing up, dashed furiously at the nearest man. It was my friend, Lieutenant Snow, who, as a wise man should have done, took to his heels, driving his spurs into his horse's sides, and striving to escape the maddened and enraged animal. The horse, however, somewhat tired, did not gain ground; while the buffalo, though severely wounded, appeared endowed with supernatural vigour. We followed, loading hastily as we rode. A cry suddenly smote upon our ears; the horse which bore Snow stumbled, pitched him headlong on the ground, and fell itself upon its side. Ere any one could interpose, the horns of the bull had pierced its side, and killed the poor beast. Snow gained his feet, and, furious with rage, drove away at his ramrod with great earnestness. Half-a-dozen cracks of rifles however, ere we had half concluded, settled the business. Leaving our dismounted friend to watch and flay the bull, we again turned, and after some trouble, succeeded in slaying the other wounded animals, after which we gave the chase.

up

It was night ere we had packed our meat and gained the camp, which presented, about an hour after sunset, one of the most picturesque scenes I ever beheld. At a short distance were the grazing horses, lazily cropping the abundant herbage, and looking, in the thick gloom

of evening, like so many spectral shapes hovering around us. But round the huge and blazing fires of the camp was reality, and reality of quite a novel nature. At the back of one of the tents was a pile of buffalo skins, and on this was heaped the vast supply of provisions which the day's work had furnished us with, but which promised fair to disappear incontinently, should many such meals as were now progressing be made upon it. Every man was busy eating with a perseverance and determination, which was in no degree lessened by the recollection of the vast amount of animal food which had been walked into in the morning. Some twelve hours had elapsed since then, and it is my firm conviction that, by our twenty men, no less a quantity than a hundred weight of buffalo was devoured. Ribs, steaks, hearts, livers, brains, went the way of all flesh, with a rapidity and dexterity most remarkable. Whether white or red men excelled most on that memorable occasion, it would be hard to say. I only know that for myself I can say thus much, that I should be now sorry to eat in a week, what I then devoured with great gusto at one meal. Some may think this to be taken cum grano salis; but though I should myself like to have done so, the applicability there stops. Coffee and pipes, as usual, aided our digestion not a little, after which there was not one who did not woo slumber as the best and most true refreshment after our day's labour.

It would be beyond my limits, which are circumscribed, to enter into any further details of a hunt, which lasted long enough, and was sufficiently fraught with adventure to dwell for ever on the memories of all those who were members of it. It is sufficient to say, that after six weeks of sport, each day fresh and varied-each day presenting some new feature-now a deer, then a hog; now geese and swans, then a conger; now a possum, then a coon; now a buffalo, then an antelope-we returned to our boat, which lay at Liberty, on the Trinity, and two days more saw us in something like the realm of civilization, tripping it on the light fantastic toe, at a ball given on board the good ship Austin, in honour of the battle of San Jacinto.

Before, however, concluding this brief episode in my Texan adventures, let me explain why the Indians seek so perseveringly after this animal in preference to all the other game of the wilderness. To them the uses of this animal are without number. In the first place, it is their principal, and sometimes their only food; eaten while out on their hunts in summer, fresh; and during winter, dried. In the next place, the skin forms the materials of their lodges, of their bales for packing their meat, of their beds by night, and their clothing by day; the coarser parts are fashioned into saddles, or cut into laryettes and halters. Then they make it their principal article of commerce, its value in Texas being about seven cents a pound. From the sinews they make strings to their bows; of the smaller fibres twine or thread; with the brains they soften and dress the skins. With the bones they make scrapers or coarse chisels, needles, &c.; and with the ribs bows, wherewith to slay more of the same genus. The importance of the animal cannot, therefore, be overrated; in fact, as the Hon. Charles A. Murray, in his delightful work, observes, "where the buffalo is exterminated, the Indian of the prairie must perish."

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Opponents are to be found to the majority of our field sports-a canting, sectarian humbug, for instance, may dwell week after week on the horrible crimes and cruelties appertaining to the turf, without giving one moment's consideration to the benefits which might and do arise from the practice of it; a petty, tenacious landowner, who lacks either health or inclination to join them, cries out against the fox-hounds" for passing o'er his grounds," and forthwith begins to bully and bluster about the law of trespass; or a would-be popular Justice Shallow exercises the authority unfortunately invested in him, in suppressing what he terms "the brutalities" of the ring. Few of these fellows, I am happy to say, lay claim to the title of sportsmen of any description; indeed, the natural character of what the list-sellers hail as "gentlemen sportsmen" of itself disclaims interfering with, or offering the least obstruction to another, however their pursuits may vary. Nay, "a fellow feeling makes us wondrous kind," and in general we find the aim of every true sportsman is to give all the encouragement in his power to promote amusement of all sorts. gallant fox-hunter, though he want either the taste or head for embarking on the turf, will never refuse his assistance or subscription in supporting the county races; the eager shot and strict pheasant preserver, though he seldom mounts anything higher than his well-broke cob, still feels proud to hear the hound challenge in the heart of his manor; and some of the wealthiest, highest, and best have not disdained to patronize, readily and steadily, the manly and honourable aspirant for the laurels to be gained by true valour and fair play.

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Perhaps, were we to analyze the feelings of some of these, we might scarcely find them to agree so well, as when only superficially surveyed: the dashing stag-hunter, who thinks nothing of coming his thirty or forty miles for one hour's gallop straight away, can too rarely suppress a sneer at the sight or mention of "dull" coursing party, or a "pottering" pack of harriers; the heart of the grouseshooter or hale deer-stalker may sicken at the idea of a barn-door battue, or a trap pigeon match; and a winner of the Derby may experience but little gratification in witnessing half-a-dozen heats for a fifty pound plate. One branch, I repeat, may not exactly admire the

leading features of another; but who, calling himself a sportsman, would dare openly to abuse hunting, racing, shooting, coursing, fishing, or many other methods of "driving dull care away," from a quiet, cosy game at chess, to a tiger-hunt in the jungle? Are they not each and all superlatively attractive and enchanting, and could not hundreds of their respective admirers sit down and write off at least a dozen pages in singing their praises, when it would puzzle them to compose half a column to their detriment or disadvantage? Still is there no sport against which the sportsman may preach, and even add to his own consequence by so doing? Is there, or is such a question necessary to enlighten the understanding of the most obtuse, while those three unfortunate, ill-used, terribly persecuted words stand out as the heading of this paper-the steeple chase? If any old hand has ventured thus far (though, I fear, my title may have prevented his skimming through it), I fancy I see his bile rise, and an overflow of bitter but well-bred abuse poured on my devoted head, when I announce myself as the volunteer champion of this headlong, limbcracking, horse-killing introduction of later days.

With the reader's permission we will now consider some of the graver charges, season after season, and at every available opportunity, raised against this now unquestionably established national sport, beginning with the most common and readiest of all-cruelty towards the horse, and danger to the man. This is the charge the fox-hunter re-echoes to his friend, using strong language to mark his disgust and abhorrence, while alluding to the fatal misfortunes at Worcester last season-"Two horses, ridden by perhaps the best of these steeple chase riders, killed in two consecutive chases; why, it is downright murder." And perhaps before the conclusion of that same season, this very man will pen a description of a brilliant run, to something like the following tune:-"Five-and-twenty miles as the crow flies, best pace nearly all through, &c., &c.," congratulating himself, again and again, at having enjoyed the good fortune to go to the end of it, and concluding with this spirited N.B.-" All the nags were dreadfully distressed; two, indeed, died on the field; three more also gave up the ghost before the end of the week; and Tom, the huntsman, fears his favourite old brown horse is not worth another day's work. You may see from this that it was nothing but a clipper." Such is the system on which the steeple chase is treated; a horse who breaks his neck or his back in going four miles over a fair hunting country, is certain to have a requiem, "long and strong," lamenting his untimely end, coupled with no very charitable observations on such as were the instruments in causing his destruction; while, on the other hand, a hunter who drops down and dies from sheer fatigue, in attempting to struggle through a run of four, fourteen, or forty miles, creates by no means an equal degree of sympathy. Even the distance-four miles-is often cited as an item in the catalogue of cruelties; and, of course, to support this, the well-known fact that four-mile races are now obsolete, is brought forward; but I would ask, if the breed of race-horses is improved by this substitution of short for long, or speed for stoutness? The general opinion appears to be that it has not; and it should be moreover remembered,