nerable fellows under similar circumstances, he may be induced to admit that " he be hurt now." Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, a fall during the run is a harmless, good-joke sort of mishap. Diana appears to have an especial care of her votaries when engaged in her legitimate worship. If down you must go, it is only to get up again-your horse put his leg just over instead of on your shoulder, and damaged your hat instead of your head. Many a man, we know, would take a dozen rolls of this sort with hounds going, that would turn sick at the slightest mistake under less exciting circumstances. As John Bull, Esquire, of Freshfield Hall, in this county, was on his way to the Quarter Sessions on Thursday last, his horse put his foot on a stone, and fell heavily; John Bull, Esquire, being severely injured of course, and crying out for a doctor and a post-chaise before he well knew where he had it. Sent home and put to bed, with a bulletin published every day for a fortnight, for a crack over the eye, a kick on the shin, or a rent in the extra-superfine green cut-away. And yet, remove this said Mr. Bull from his hack to his hunter, with the red rag in place of the quieter hue of his worship" to the fore, and a fox to be killed instead of a poacher to be punished, and then see what a change will come over the spirit of the man. He shall be doubly ducked in the gurgite paste of a rotten-banked brook, with no more fear of influensic influence than of yellow fever being the conse quence. He shall go through a new gate or be knocked over a bog-backed sille with as much impunity as if such had already been agreed to as part of the performance; or, 2ke the gentleman before us, sa mate his share of a lys, awkwani, up-and-down scramble, with no other ill edes then losing a good place in vin pevatises n be a good Ding, and even then sening out again with the strong bice that the förde de war, which has done in this wrong, my put in right with them yet. Adming there may be some possibility of hunger, sur bat Las Baix has been and down guerly Nme from Jews deeses æsfinder, De 2v2 zomlined, reung xa estetik, 700Now i ús case the luck 2065 18 7981 IS A CLIST, and the du Incher that has fresì im Ivers UN IS L ve a koen bani. 17 “screw' tiengi is bak" SOUL ▼SL. Die he phia, hai aur runi-f he wil uw Is i A PEEP AT THE PROVINCES. BY ACTEON. (Continued.) On Saturday, November 6, I met Lord Redesdale's hounds (the Heythrop) at Kiddington gate. This never was a favourite fixture of mine; although I have seen some good sport, especially in the spring of the year, from the woodlands in the neighbourhood. There was but a small field who honoured the pack with their presence: the noble master himself being, unfortunately, absent, from the effects of a severe kick, received on the previous hunting-day, from the horse (a thoroughbred stallion, once a favourite in the Derby) ridden by Jack Goddard, the first whipper-in. Amongst the field, who might be enumerated as regular attendants on these hounds, but few indeed could be recognized as belonging to what might be termed the "duke's men" of fifteen years ago Captain Anstice, although he had arrived at his old quarters at Chipping Norton, was not out; and out of a field of about fifty horsemen, I could only recognise Mr. Webb, who once lived at Kiddington, before Mr. Ricardo purchased the property, Mr. Whippy, and one or two more, who, as I observed before, were the old and acknowledged attendants upon the pack of the late Duke of Beaufort. At eleven o'clock Jem Hills threw what is termed his small pack, numbering twenty-two couples, into Glymton Gorse-a cover about a mile and a half from Kiddington-gate. Nearly the whole of the two patches of gorse were drawn before a hound spoke to the coldest scent that could be imagined; and a halloo from a farmer brought the pack to the line of the fox, which had broken at the upper end of the cover, and to which the notes of the finding hounds would hardly have been sufficiently decided to cause the body of hounds to fly, and bring their fox away in a style that they would have done had the scent served them better than it did upon the present occasion. It was evident upon the hounds first entering the cover that a fox had been " walking about" late in the morning, but it was a very stale scent indeed; and the numerous little rides that are now cut all about Glymton Gorse, for the purpose of rabbit-shooting, made it appear very uncertain whether we should find a fox at all in the cover, the stale scent being nothing more than where the animal had been on his feed amongst the rabbits during the preceding night. A more miserable scent in November was never experienced with hounds; in fact, they could hardly walk after him down wind, but managed, when the fox turned with his head a little to the wind, to keep chopping along, and, by dint of a great many halloos and lucky wide-casts, to work his line at a very slow hunting pace for nearly an hour, when they lost him, from mere want of scent, just where с nerable fellows under similar circumstances, he may be induced to admit that " he be hurt now." Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, a fall during the run is a harmless, good-joke sort of mishap. Diana appears to have an especial care of her votaries when engaged in her legitimate worship. If down you must go, it is only to get up again-your horse put his leg just over instead of on your shoulder, and damaged your hat instead of your head. Many a man, we know, would take a dozen rolls of this sort with hounds going, that would turn sick at the slightest mistake under less exciting circumstances. As John Bull, Esquire, of Freshfield Hall, in this county, was on his way to the Quarter Sessions on Thursday last, his horse put his foot on a stone, and fell heavily; John Bull, Esquire, being severely injured of course, and crying out for a doctor and a post-chaise before he well knew where he had it. Sent home and put to bed, with a bulletin published every day for a fortnight, for a crack over the eye, a kickon the shin, or a rent in the extra-superfine green cut-away. And yet, remove this said Mr. Bull from his hack to his hunter, with the red rag in place of the quieter hue of "his worship" to the fore, and a fox to be killed instead of a poacher to be punished, and then see what a change will come over the spirit of the man. He shall be doubly ducked in the gurgite vasto of a rotten-banked brook, with no more fear of influenzic influence than of yellow fever being the consequence. He shall go through a new gate or be knocked over a hog-backed stile with as much impunity as if such had already been agreed to as part of the performance; or, like the gentleman before us, shall take his share of a long, awkward, up-and-down scramble, with no other ill effects than losing a good place in what promises to be a good thing, and even then setting out again with the strong hope that the fortune of war, which has done him this wrong, may put him right with them yet. Admitting there may be some possibility of danger, our hero has none of it. Bad falls, it has been laid down, generally come from blown horses or stiff timber, the two combined being an especial provocative. Now in this case the black looks as fresh as a daisy, and the bullfincher that has floored him appears to be as nice a place for a keen hand to "screw" through as heart could wish. Despite the "festina lentè" style of charging fences, we must say we think, had our friend-if he will allow us to call him so-sent his horse a little faster at it, the squire-trap would never have caught him. Jim Crow, who, by the cut of his jib, is not quite thorough-bred --we will pound it, was no doubt waiting for that little bit of a rousing you ought to have afforded him. Prophecy after an event, however, is unbecoming in any man but a turf oracle; yet still, next time take our advice, or Dick Knight's, if you think that a better authority, and "put him sharp at it, my lord !" A PEEP AT THE PROVINCES. BY ACTEON. (Continued.) On Saturday, November 6, I met Lord Redesdale's hounds (the Heythrop) at Kiddington gate. This never was a favourite fixture of mine; although I have seen some good sport, especially in the spring of the year, from the woodlands in the neighbourhood. There was but a small field who honoured the pack with their presence: the noble master himself being, unfortunately, absent, from the effects of a severe kick, received on the previous hunting-day, from the horse (a thoroughbred stallion, once a favourite in the Derby) ridden by Jack Goddard, the first whipper-in. Amongst the field, who might be enumerated as regular attendants on these hounds, but few indeed could be recognized as belonging to what might be termed the "duke's men" of fifteen years ago Captain Anstice, although he had arrived at his old quarters at Chipping Norton, was not out; and out of a field of about fifty horsemen, I could only recognise Mr. Webb, who once lived at Kiddington, before Mr. Ricardo purchased the property, Mr. Whippy, and one or two more, who, as I observed before, were the old and acknowledged attendants upon the pack of the late Duke of Beaufort. At eleven o'clock Jem Hills threw what is termed his small pack, numbering twenty-two couples, into Glymton Gorse-a cover about a mile and a half from Kiddington-gate. Nearly the whole of the two patches of gorse were drawn before a hound spoke to the coldest scent that could be imagined; and a halloo from a farmer brought the pack to the line of the fox, which had broken at the upper end of the cover, and to which the notes of the finding hounds would hardly have been sufficiently decided to cause the body of hounds to fly, and bring their fox away in a style that they would have done had the scent served them better than it did upon the present occasion. It was evident upon the hounds first entering the cover that a fox had been " walking about" late in the morning, but it was a very stale scent indeed; and the numerous little rides that are now cut all about Glymton Gorse, for the purpose of rabbit-shooting, made it appear very uncertain whether we should find a fox at all in the cover, the stale scent being nothing more than where the animal had been on his feed amongst the rabbits during the preceding night. A more miserable scent in November was never experienced with hounds; in fact, they could hardly walk after him down wind, but managed, when the fox turned with his head a little to the wind, to keep chopping along, and, by dint of a great many halloos and lucky wide-casts, to work his line at a very slow hunting pace for nearly an hour, when they lost him, from mere want of scent, just where C they found him. That the scent should have been so execrable was most extraordinary and unaccountable; for the attributes of the morning were those of a beautiful mild hunting-day, perhaps rather too close, with the wind south-west (what little air there might be), and a misty dampness pervading the whole ground and the atmosphere; still I fancied I felt occasionally some cobweb or gossamer float across my face as I rode along, which is an almost invariable indicator of a bad scentingday, especially when it abounds to such an extent, as it does on a fine glaring autumnal morning, as to render the heads of the hounds perfectly white from its effects, when working for a scent, with their noses close to the ground. A move was then made by many of the field to the house of Mr. Ricardo, the squire of Kiddington, where half an hour was consumed in refreshing the inward man of all those sportsmen who felt inclined to avail themselves of his proffered hospitality. As soon as luncheon had been sufficiently discussed, the hounds were thrown into the ozier-bed at the back of the house; and, although a small place, the scent was still so indifferent that a considerable time clapsed before a fox could be got upon his legs. Away, however, he went, after trying to hang even in this small, insignificant cover; and pointing for the Kiddington woods, ran the whole chain of covers which are situated to the right of the Woodstock and Enston road. From this point he described a ring towards the place where he was first found; and, facing the wind once more, ran back with rather an improved scent towards the Kiddington woods, through which he passed, but the hounds were upon such bad terms with him as never to be able to press him to anything like distress. His point was now the Ditchley covers, which he reached; passing in front of Ditchley House, going right across the middle of the deer park, and entering the large woodlands on the opposite side. Here there were two, if not three, foxes before the hounds; they, however, kept on with one fox without dividing-but I fear not the one they brought from the ozier-bed at Kiddington-running two rings round the Ditchley woods, till they came to that part known as the broad riding. Here the pack became divided into three bodies; Jem Hills going away with fourteen couples of hounds to the edge of the forest, where he stopped them, when upon very indifferent terms with their fox; six couples running a fox back towards Ditchley House, which were stopped by the second whipper-in; and two couples which had divided on a third fox, and which they gave up after running him with a very weak scent towards the Enston side of Ditchley woods. Thus ended the day's sport, about four o'clock, when the hounds were got together and taken home; and the narrator trotted off to his quarters at Chipping Norton, where he dined and slept, previous to paying the Heythrop kennels a visit on the ensuing morning. Although Chipping Norton is undoubtedly the best situation for any owner of a stud to locate himself in the whole of the Heythrop hunt, the whole neighbourhood seems nearly deserted; in fact, there are only four hunting-men now staying in the town: viz., one at the Crown Inn, and three more who keep their horses at the White Hart. Chapel House, a mile and a half distant from the town, once known as one of the very best and most comfortable sleeping-houses on the old Oxford and Birmingham road, is entirely closed; and as I drove by this once cheer |