of April, and continues until the 20th of May, as already stated, thus prolonging sport about two or three months.

I must say a word or two about the country itself besides describing it as romantic, wild, and beautiful; for these are not the only things to be considered by the sportsman. Some like an open champaign country, with high or lengthy jumps, where the pace is racing throughout, and the finish quick; others prefer a different and perhaps more enclosed country. Now the counties of Devon and Somerset, although they have some parts which few could find fault with, are generally not so good; their hills are often tremendous and the land commonly heavy and rough, so that horses of strength are requisite to carry you well through them; their numerous moors, which in most parts afford the finest gallops, have occasionally a bog into which the incautious may be precipitated ere he is aware of his danger. But because the country is not throughout quite first-rate, sportsmen must not be deterred from the delightful sport of stag-hunting; indeed the red-deer cannot exist where it is too much enclosed, because of his numerous enemies, in the shape of poachers, and the like. It therefore necessarily follows that he must be hunted in a country somewhat open and rough; but such, in my opinion, from its wild and pleasing varieties of hill and dale, wood and water, affords additional enjoyment to the hunter, and much enhances the pleasures of the chase. I love, too, to witness the "rough and ready" enthusiasm with which the sturdy yeoman will often unharness his favourite mare from the plough, and, without saddle, frequently too without bridle, join in the chase, totally regardless of the injury which the field may be doing to his crops. "There, there he go'th! that's not the fust time hers been in mey feald by many!" shouted a jolly farmer as he saw a stag rise from his field of standing barley, in which he had ensconced himself during one of our runs of last autumn, and it would have done your heart good to have seen with what energy he dug his spurs into his old mare, and rattled down a steep hill after the hounds, shouting for very joy that he had caught un at last. The peasants, too, are almost mad after the sport, with difficulty pursuing their duties when hounds and horse are near; and then the earnest inquiry "Have e killed un zur?" as you ride homewards after a long chase fully demonstrates the interest which they all take in it. I must not forget either to add that it is the boast of the village maidens, and even of the auld wives of these districts, that they have ran many a stag-chase-aye, and seen un killed too." But this latter feat has only happened when the hounds have brought him to bay in some pool hard by them; then are they as eager as the harder sex, and as loud in their expressions of enjoyment. A stag at bay in some deep and darkly-sequestered pool, with hounds and men anxiously striving to capture him, is a most exciting scene, and fully warrants the enlivening presence of the bright-eyed village maiden. No one, who has not seen a stag at bay in one of his lovely, rugged, roaring rivers bravely defending himself to the last, can form a proper estimate of its enchantments. It is not enough to ride racing-pace over a few miles of meadow land with a pack of stag-hounds, and perchance at the finish to find a timid

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and perhaps unhealthy stag, which, besides the loss of his noble antlers, had well nigh lost his senses by being but a few hours previously jolted for miles in a covered tax-cart safely ensconced in some muddy pond, or perhaps a cow-shed, or e'en a coal-yard, quietly awaiting his pursuers, to form an estimate of a run and a finish with the Devon and Somerset stag-hounds. No; the red-deer must be hunted in his wildness and in his native country, with all the resources which nature has afforded him; his lofty wood-crowned hills, his rapid mountain torrents, and his deep, dark, secluded pools must be present to allow him to practise his accustomed craft and show sport to the hunter worthy his enjoyment. And then his rights-those noble ornaments, the only protection which nature has afforded himmust not be wanting! I would as soon course with a greyhound that had lost his tail, as hunt this noble animal deprived of these his natural defences. I suspect me much that the barbarity practised by other hunts, in sawing off his antlers, is not only for the expressed but futile purpose of protecting her Majesty's liege subjects from harm. When were they in danger from a hunted stag? I rather imagine that some of these said stag-hunters have slight misgivings of their ability to take him, though at bay, when his rights are perfect as nature formed them, and so they cruelly deface his noble brow and rob him of his only defence in order that they may the more safely attack him. Not so the hardy Devonian; he would scorn to hunt him when deprived of his "head," as his horns are emphatically termed; he would as soon think of hunting him without his head. No! he never lays the hounds on the slot of a stag that is not well furnished; and he must hunt him, too, in his native fastnesses for sport. I cannot conceive that there is any real pleasure in hunting an animal deprived of his natural energies and courage, and which perhaps for months or years has been confined in a paddock or stall, and then turned out of a cart, almost a prey to the hounds, in a country to which he is a perfect stranger. It may be enough for those who delight in steeple-chasing to hunt such a stag, but it is not sufficient for the true stag-hunter, whose sport is as great in counterfoiling the manoeuvres of his game as that which his lengthy runs afford him. Our forefathers would have considered it unmanly and unworthy of them, and why should we encourage what they would have derided? We should rather in this enlightened age, with hounds and horses superior by far to what they possessed, seek to excel them in their hardihood than adopt a sport unbecoming to them. I must, however, return to my subject, from which I have again diverged in my desire to see better times, and e'en for better men or rather I should say men of the "right sort." I will, therefore, in continuance, briefly describe the mode adopted by the hunt in the chase of the red-deer.

To be continued,

U

THE RETRIEVER.

ENGRAVED BY E. HACKER, FROM A PAINTING BY J. BATEMAN.

There is scarcely a stronger or better example of the truth of the adage that "familiarity breeds contempt" than the pheasant-dead or alive, certainly one of the most beautiful birds ever brought to bag; and, only just supposing it in this country to be about half as uncommon as the woodcock or wildgoose, what a prize, with "his glossy, varying dyes, his scarlet-circled eyes, his painted wings," &c., &c., would a specimen be considered by the lucky man who happened to fetch him down! But as it is, while we walk over or into them in shoals like shrimps, and find them answering by hundreds to the "chick-a biddy, chick-a-biddy, come and be killed!" it has come to pass that not one of the many feathered tribes named in the game bill is thought less of either as a mark for the sportsman or as a present for his friends. The pheasant, in fact, with all his dashing and dazzling bodily advantages, must acquire a spice or so more of the untameable spirit to rank as anything beyond the mere "food for powder" he is at present; and, though Master Bang has of course our thanks for serving up the slaughtered exquisite, we must see him try his hand on nobler game before we can allow him to stand as perfect in the many and varied accomplishments so essential in "The Retriever."

Generally speaking, there is none of that public sensation, or almost indispensable puffing, about shooting that we find is the constant practice of many other sports: no announcement such as-"The foxhounds will meet at So-and-so Hall on Thursday next" in one number of the paper, and the brilliant run they had from So-and-so Hall on Thursday last in another; or the odds on the race for the county cup in one day, and the brilliant run for it, too, in the next; or the names of the two elevens chosen to play in the M. C. C. versus our club this week, and their score and our comments "certainly in our next." No; at the very farthest, the pomps and vanities of the trigger will be content with some small paragraph like this:

"On Tuesday last the Earl of Fieldfare, accompanied by three friends, Baron Von Killkilham, Sir Simon Slaughter, and the Honourable Sampson Butcher, made up the following bag during a few hours' sport in the preserves at Fieldfare Abbey:-555 hares, 775 pheasants, 935 rabbits, 17 partridges, and 1 woodcock; total, 2,283."

And who, at this time, we would ask, would even venture on as much as that?

"Why, bless me !" says John Bull, throwing down his paper;