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friend Ram-jam Poppleton will do himself the pleasure, and you the honour, of visiting your Penates, for the purpose of a little exercise among the hares, birds, pheasants, and such like flesh and fowl, to be found in your neighbourhood. Having satisfied your wife as to his moral character, the colour of his hair, and the amount of his family and income, and also assisted in the debate on the expediency of introducing giblet soup or rabbit curry, you hear no more of the matter until an hour before sunset, when the sound of wheels announces the approach of your friend at a regular American trotter pace, and in a trap much resembling those patronized by town travellers to ginger beer and soda water manufactories. That you are at the door in an instant, have him by the hand, and show in the well-covered double-barrel, are matters of course; but, just as you expect him to follow, he has let down the back board of "the pop shop," and discovered three travelling companions, a couple of spaniels, and a great big brown pointer.

"Fine dog this, Green, come and have a look at him." "He is, indeed, magnificent!"

Ponto brushes up amazingly at this, and, taking the hint of "hie, hie!" proceeds to show off in a good wide range in the shrubbery. He is out of sight for a minute, and the next appears with"Why, damn the dog! Ponto, Ponto, drop it sir!"

It is dropt accordingly; to wit, a favourite, and very diminutive game cock.

"Confound the dog! but never mind, Green, Cock-a-doodle-doo is not hurt-live to win a Welsh main yet; all the better for it, if anything."

"Yes, I think he is; [aside] as clear a case of broken wing as ever was seen."

"Now, do you know I like him the more for this-shows there's some devil in him, and I would'nt give a sixpence for a dog without a little."

Tinkle, tinkle-crash-smash-screech-" Gracious goodness! all the glass in the house broken! What can be the matter?"

Round the corner you both hurry, when John meets you,

"With dismal face,

Long as a courtier's out of place
Portending some disaster."

"What is it, John?"

"O, nothing's the matter, sir; only the gentleman's dog see the stuffed fox in the library, and made a dash at him through the bowwindow, and knocked down some of Missus's China."

We pity the dull wight who cannot picture to himself "the sweet smile" with which" Missus"welcomes "my old friend, Mr. Ram-jam Poppleton."

For a second, we will go to the turf-the tip-top at once; as, the higher on the list, the more likely shall we be to have a strong case. Well, then, some other old friend has determined to win, or, at any rate, to try his chance for the Warwick, the Wolverhampton, Abingdon, Stamford, Nottingham, or some cup, the line for which, from

his horse's stable, is close by your door. That the nag should halt one night with you, is a compliment he cannot resist paying; and, really, receiving such a lion as a thorough-bred race-horse, with all his travelling accoutrements, his valet, his boots, brushes, night-cap, &c. &c., is no small honour, according to some people's notions. Finding good entertainment for one horse and man being such a mere bagatelle, you never say a word to any of your establishment as to their coming at all; until, one afternoon, the very day in fact the horse is to arrive, but you'd forgotten it, the privacy of your "study" is broken in upon by a message from James (the groom) who "wants to know what he's to do with the half-a-dozen racers as is just come into the yard?"

"Half-a-dozen! Nonsense, man! one, you mean-one is coming, I

know."

"I beg your pardon, sir, but James said there was six, as well as he could count them."

James's arithmetic is quite correct. Your friend's horse has taken the usual liberty of bringing a few friends of his-the trainer's whole string, in fact; and now comes the question, What's to be done with them? We are not supposing your stabling to be a copy of that at Woburn Abbey or Houghton, where they would take a troop or two of horse, and think nothing of it. No, you are limited for room, and the new comers are rather particular. "Lord Steady-stake's mare never slept in anything but a loose box in her life; the Camel colt would kick a stall to pieces almost before he was in it; and Mr. Markham (that's your friend, indeed) will have a mighty poor chance of winning the cup if his horse, too, don't have a good, large, roomy, warm box." These observations, by the way, are put very much in the style of indignant demands. You have three boxes certainly; but then your three favourite hunters are in them. "But, never mind them, out they must come-put them any where-into the pigsty, barn, or any shed that will hold them; only, pray make haste, for these horses, the head lad swears, are all catching their deaths of cold, and he can't answer for the consequences. demands for hot water, sponges, and cold meat, or the injury the attendant pigmies, who have something of Ponto's "devil," assisted by a Newmarket education, do to the orchards, the game-preserves, and the heads of the maid-servants, is a state of chaos at which we dare only hint.

The

But surely, all this time we are straying "far, far away” from Piscator. Nay, was it not for his advantage that we did deviate? And is he, too, one of those welcome guests who, when they cut, you hope will never come again? He, what "dear, quiet Mr. Silk-line," as everybody in the house calls him, from your wife down to the scullery-maid-"a gen'leman as never gives no trouble to nobody," as the shoe-boy says, "but who always behaves like a prince; though he will clean his own fishing-boots." That's his character, wherever he goes; and such it always must be, for it depends on himself. He has no sins of " horses, hounds, and men" in attendance to answer for, and, in lieu of that very engaging devilry, has a temper as gentle as

a gentle, and as harmless as one of his self-manufactured flies. Then again, if you are not a sportsman, there is still pleasure in talking with him, and of his sport; he abounds not in the puzzling technicalities of the man with one thought, the "gave him a stone; T.Y.C.; weight for age; collared him directly; then he was challenged; P. P.:" or, 66 a widish cast; threw up their heads; sterns down; never recovered him; war heel; Skirters, Taylors, and Master Reynolds." Piscator seasons his discourse with nothing of this kind; he can speak of a cloudy, rainy morning, and observe the effect it has on a man's spirits, perhaps, sooner than he would on a fish-pond; and can refer to the paste of an apple-tart without bounding off to the best paste for killing a chub. He has an eye, too, for scenery, and delights in the picturesque perhaps as much as Clarkson Stanfield himself; he can, for instance, look at a hawthorn hedge, without inwardly resolving how he should "go at it," or wondering whether there is a ditch on the other side; and can call admiration to a beautiful range of meadow land, without suggesting "what devilish good two-mile gallop might be made there." In short, take him either by the side of the stream, or over the mahogany, whether with pencil or fly-rod in hand, at home or abroad, we cannot conscientiously recommend a more agreeable companion than the gentleman who is now engaged in throwing his artificial ephemera,

"To walk the waters like a thing of life."

Of all varieties of fishing, from harpooning whales to pinning minnows, we vote in favour of that which our artist has chosen to illustrate; it draws out all the energy and talent of the sportsman, and is practised without so many of those drawbacks which in other kinds of angling are unavoidable. Who has not, over and over again, experienced the miseries that live and other baits bring upon the bottom fisher-the dirtiness, the delay, and the continual manual labour required in making them "ship-shape?" How different is the case with the fly-fisher-the real artist, who wanders along, mile after mile, doing tremendous execution with his "gay deceiver," and all without soiling his fingers! Then as to the ability requisite, why, any halfbaked lout may loll over a fat float watching for a bob, as a hint to make his clumsy attempt; but, for the trout stream, we must have as great a command of the arm and wrist, as good a whip hand, in fact, as Charley Jones himself or any other knight of the "tapering crop,' a delicacy of touch equal to Paganini, and an elegance of attitude that may rival Macready. There is nothing can compare with it in the practice of Walton and Cotton but trolling: and that is decidedly far inferior, being less a scientific amusement than bona fide hard labour: we have tried it, and, not possessing the strength of a Hercules, found one trial quite sufficient. Again, look at the reward-a great coarse un-eatable pike or a trout? The very word is enough, without any endearing and well-deserved epithet we could have found worthy of it. This, by the way, reminds us that if any of our distant friends should fall in with a specimen or two, or a dozen or two, which they think would look well in black and white (i. e., engraved), we shall be

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PLATE II.-HAWKING PARTY RETURNING HOME.

happy to receive them; it is hardly necessary to say that the fresher they are the more justice will be done them by the artist, to whose hands they will immediately be consigned.

We are not so terribly over-burdened with presents in the fish and game lime, but certainly one came to hand not long since with which we could have well dispensed; it appeared, as the ghost stories have it, in the shape of a hamper, equal to four dozen we should say, and we only wish there had been four dozen in it. Alas! No; it came from the country, and they know well enough that we lucky fellows in the great metropolis can always get plenty of wine-by merely paying for it. No, no; they sent us something that we don't meet with in the streets of London every day-Imprimis, half an acre of rich meadow grass in a high state of fermentation; under this three tolerably large jack, pike, or whatever you call them; then another sample of the rich meadow grass; and then, ye gods! then, two dozen of barbel! And this from an old friend-carriage paid, certainly; but, for all that, we even now feel inclined to take it as an insult. The best of it was, too, that a wish was expressed to have the hamper returned, which, of course, meant nothing more or less than that we were to fill it with Crockford's claret, Tom Thumb, a buffalo hump, the head of "Strong Wind," or something equally desirable, and always to be had in London for love or money.

We only put it fairly to the reader, that if we had returned the hamper, which we have not, whether we should have been justified in enclosing anything but a horse's head?

The disciple of Izaak Walton has, however, had more than his share of our time, and we must now hasten to our second subject, particularly

"As there's a lady in the case,

For then all other things give place."

PLATE II.

HAWKING PARTY RETURNING HOME.

ENGRAVED BY E. HACKER, FROM A PAINTING BY H. SLOUS.

"Of all the joys that sporting yields,

The best comes last,

When wearied o'er the beaten fields

We homeward cast;

And if a smile

Beams forth the while

From her approving eye,

Oh, how sweet the kiss, how sweet the lips

That share our joy!"

So says Mr. George Manning in the November No. of this work: we cannot say that we altogether agree with his poetical opinionsthe second line especially is too much of a closer for us-"The best

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