in killing him so it may easily be conceived how everybody was in the other's way, and the hounds completely baffled. The fox, probably meanwhile in some friendly drain, delighted at the increasing din. And so ended my last day in Pembrokeshire. For the information of some of your readers I ought, perhaps, to mention where this sporting county is situated; to tell them how they may reach it; and what accommodation may be expected on arriving there. Of the last, however, I cannot be supposed to know much; my visit was too short. As to the first, I must refer them to the map. One article will certainly disappoint any man who goes there, as I did, with horses-that is, the hay; I saw none worth £1 a ton. It was all dry, brown, and dusty, worse by far than I had been buying at Carmarthen (and of that I had been complaining); but, as "not to be worst stands in some rank of praise," I am now inclined to think myself lucky in having plenty of the latter and cheap. The corn, too, in Pembrokeshire, is far from first-rate. They will give your horse black oats if you do not see him fed with white; and I never saw an ostler take the trouble to shake the dust out before putting it in the manger. Hunting there, however, is really excellent. To enjoy it thoroughly you require a horse well-bred, and strong in his loins and hind-quarters; not less than fifteen hands two inches high. In other words, such an one as would be of use in any country in England; and you must have him trained on the spot. There is very little timber to jump, and not often a brook; but it's as well to be prepared for either, especially the latter. As I look forward to the possibility of again adding one to those who hunt with Mr. Phillips' and Mr. Allen's packs, I may perhaps have a word or two more to say of them on some future occasion. In the mean-time I wish them good sport, whether I am there to enjoy it or not, and a favourable breeding season for foxes. COACHING AS IT IS. MR. EDITOR,-In reading your magazine, it does one's heart good to observe now and then some recollections of the "old road" thrown in, and the pleasing recollections connected with it put in contrast with the very unpleasing experience of travelling in the present time; but, in speaking of coaching, they have made it as a thing entirely past and done away with; instead of which, and since railways were first commenced and all the principal ones have been finished, there have been still some coaches, and well-horsed ones too, on the different lines of road out of the way of the iron monster. Surely some of the contributors to your magazine have travelled during the last three years from Southampton, by Matcham's wellappointed coaches, or in the west of England by some of the Exeter coaches going westwards. I think it would be of no great harm if, when they speak of coaching, they would mention some particularly well-appointed one, wherever it may be, that those sportsmen going into the same part of the world might encourage by their patronage. Let me mention a very pleasant journey I had from the aforementioned town of Southampton, in August, 1846. I started from the Nine Elms station at seven o'clock in the morning, and arrived in due course at Southampton. A coach, with two horses in it, was waiting to take up the passengers that had arrived, and, owing to the kindness of a gentleman who had secured the box-seat (and let me say that it was the greatest real kindness-to me-that I ever experienced from a total stranger), I was duly installed in his place. On arriving at Matcham's, I was pleased to see two leaders put on, and, from the time we started to the end of the stage (ten miles), we took exactly one hour-not bad work, when we consider that the coach was cram-full, with a more than proper amount of luggage. We were tooled by that accomplished whip, Sidney Robinson, one of the real London school of coachmen-neat, tidy, an excellent whip, and civil to his passengers. If he has no coach to drive now, may he have a long life and a well-filled purse. The next stage was through the New Forest of Hampshire, and as it was a long stage (twelve miles), and the roads not over-good, we had three leaders instead of two: they were attached to the pole by some contrivance of Robinson's-I think four bars-which I forget now, and am sorry that I did not make a sketch at the time, as neither before nor since have I ever seen anything of the kind. It was a lovely day, and the forest looked beautiful, with the deer feeding not far from the road. We did not see a house for the whole stage. We passed the Dorchester railway several times, and I thought how lucky I was to have the opportunity of travelling through such a splendid country by a conveyance which, although by no means slow, gave one the opportunity of admiring the beauties of it. We had dinner at Christchurch, and a very good dinner it was; if we had had a little more time to eat it in, as Dickens says, it would have been cheap at 2s. 6d. a mouth, if any moderate number of mouths could have eaten in the time. From thence we travelled through Poole, and a beautiful watering-place, called, I think, Bournemouth, and came to Dorchester, from whence we went to Weymouth, the end of our journey. I should like to know what railway travelling can compare with such a journey as that? Instead of sneaking up to one's hotel in a crowded omnibus, we came into the town at a fast pace, and many a fair damsel feasted her eyes on a sight that I am afraid won't be much more seen in the pretty town of Weymouth. Circumstances obliged me to return by the Exeter and Southampton rail, that passed through Dorchester; but, although I could not see the country, it being night, I did not the less enjoy four good horses, bright lamps, and a good whip to drive them. These coaches, I am afraid, are now done up, owing to the Dorchester line being opened, which I wish had never been thought of. The Exeter coaches will, I am afraid, be soon in the same predicament, as I hear that the South Devon will soon be open to Plymouth; but there is a country beyond that, still without iron roads; and let those who like coaching, and have the cash, go there and enjoy themselves. I saw some good coaches arrive and depart from the "Saracen's Head," Lincoln. Whether they are still on the road or not, I don't know; but if they are, let those who go that way take advantage of them. I am afraid I have trespassed too much on your pages. But a word to those who take a trip to Brighton. I believe there is still a coach every other day to that town: although only a three-horse one, it is an exceedingly well appointed one, if in the same condition as when I travelled by it in the winter of '46-47: a civil coachman, and a guard who plays well on the cornet; and the most beautiful scenery on any road out of London, through Leatherhead and Dorking, will amply repay the passenger who goes by it. I remain, sir, &c., GLENDOWER. ANACREONTI C. BY GEORGE J. O. ALLMANN. "Cras bibet qui nunquam bibavit.”—CATULLUS. Come fill me a goblet! fill up to the brim! No shrinking I ween; For the bead-sparkling bubbles should float round the rim Like our joys and our sorrows those air-bubbles are, The goblet that crown. If joys-we aye seize them ere ravished by Care; If sorrows-we drown! So fill to the brim-let it sparkle and froth Like the waves as they dash, When the Ocean o'erleaps its wide bounds in its wrath! Like a rivulet's murmur when calmly it flows On its peace-loving way, Lest the bubbles of joy, which arise, turn to woes The longer they stay. Come hither, thou Boy! Come hither, and hold My head with firm grasp; For the draught is so godlike that oft-times, I'm told, Ah! ah! let me breathe! Oh, rapture! Oh, fear! Snatch my soul, oh ye Gods! to your sunniest sphere, |