Somerville's well-known and practical description would apply especially to this part of the chase "Now on firm land they range, then in the flood They plunge tumultuous, or thro' reedy pools Two or three miles of river had been traversed in this manner, when "Baronet" came to a mark in a hover formed by an old oak tree. "That sounds solid," was the general observation, as the hound's peculiar earnestness carried conviction to all, that the game was at hand. "Solid and sure," was Ned Fullbert's reply, as he caught a terrier by the tail, and quietly dropped him through the hollow of the tree. "Now, look below, gentlemen; Fox is aboard him; and if he don't bolt in a second or two, I'm deceived; so look below, for he'll slip by you like a conger." War to the knife was at once heard at the roots of the tree, and a chain of small bubbles rising to the surface, told all that the otter had bolted. The hounds now settled upon him down stream, and for an hour or more worked him incessantly. "His life a'nt worth a farden," says Ned; "'tis too hot to hold him." The otter now landed, unseen by any one, while the hounds flashed away down stream on the scent of the water for several hundred yards. Here they threw up for a time; but, at the sound of the horn, again heading back, they hit off his line with an avidity that seemed to say his very minutes were numbered. How ever, it was not so, for by the aid of a small copse through which he ran, he managed to reach the hover from which he was first bolted. Great was Ned's grief at this occurrence, for he knew the punishment that awaited his "fire-side friends," as he always called the terriers, and he predicted the very bones of their head would be cracked ere the otter could be made to quit his strong holt a second time. "Hallooin-loo," said he, as a couple of them got in. "I'll warrant me they'll do their duty." Every hound pricked his ear, and every man seemed a statue of attention; it was a strange contrast to the scurry and excitement that had just prevailed. A rattling, rumbling noise was quickly heard, and the chain of bubbles again shot up, glistening like so many pearls, and announcing at once the evacuation of the fortress. The otter was now fairly beaten, he vented more frequently, and was "gazed" without intermission. "Pavidum caput extulit undis," old Beeswing grabs at him, then Rattler, then all, "stant littore puppes." "Well done, good hounds, well done." Worry, worry, worry; you can't 'tear him and eat him,' lads, who-whoop." Ned took the otter by the tail with his left hand, and with the whip in his right he kept off the hounds that were baying in a circle around him, while he screeched at the top of his voice" Who-whoop." It is of the greatest advantage that hounds should have blood as early as may be in the season, especially young hounds; because if they have not yet entered, a first impression of what they are to pursue is sure to have a future if not an immediate good effect. When short of blood, even old hounds that understand their work will become slack, and draw carelessly and with indifference. This is always regarded as a great misery; but I would not go quite so far as Daniel, who says of fox hunting that "the whole art is to keep hounds well in blood, therefore every advantage of the fox is taken.' When there are many unentered hounds, an early hour is preferable for meeting, as in the morning a fresh scent is afforded, which is likely to make them draw more readily than a staler scent. Every encouragement should be given to induce them to stoop; and though they commence by marking small vermin, it may be regarded as a prelude to better things; and they should in no wise be rated before they are cognisant of that game which it is intended they should follow. Too many hounds are very objectionable for this sport, as in general they only serve to foil the water and add to the confusion when the otter is found, while upon a trail they are more apt from jealousy to get ahead, without using that steadiness and caution which is so essential for discovering an animal that conceals itself so effectually as the otter. The size of your pack, however, ought to be regarded by the size of your rivers: if they be broad, you cannot well manage with less than twelve or fifteen couple; but if they be chiefly brooks and small streams, eight couple would be ample. In the former case an otter when found does not adhere to the line of one bank of the river, but is constantly crossing as he is marked and dislodged on either side; to cope with him under these circumstances, it is necessary to have your pack divided and working both banks at the same time, or there would be no end to your day's sport, if indeed you did not lose him, which would be highly probable. When it comes to be a matter of swimming against diving, the wild beast has greatly the advantage, and without the spear would never be taken, unless the above method be resorted to. Upon small streams the case is different : there all your power, however short it be, is concentrated and brought into action at the same time, and your hounds cross and recross with as much or even more facility than the otter himself. Having decanted thus much of my stock, my friends will excuse me, I am sure, if I reserve some small quantity in bottle for future use. In the meantime I will promise them, at no very distant date, a biographical sketch of Ned Fullbert, who for forty years has had no common intercourse with our various beasts of venerie, and can supply yarns upon the subject as long as "the great sea-snake." A NIGHT ON ULLESWATER. BY AUGUSTUS GUEST, M.A. Abundant as this our little island is in lovely and enticing scenery, there is no part of it which can claim rivalship with the lake district of Cumberland and Westmoreland. The shires of Devon and Derby have each their respective attractions; the one for the richness of its soil, and the salubrity of its climate; the other, for its romantic vales and rocky cliffs, its clear and bubbling streams, and, more than all, as having been the favourite abode of the good and venerable Izaak Walton. The gratification, however, the tourist derives from scenery such as that which characterizes those two counties, must necessarily be of a more transient nature, and its picturesque beauties less strongly impressed on the recollection, than when the eye rests for the first time on an irregular range of wild and rugged mountains, whose many-pointed and craggy tops seem to brave high heaven itself. But if the lakes, and the huge barriers by which they are enclosed, present features of noble grandeur to the contemplative-themes of inspiration to the poet-subjects of study to the painter-and of investigation to the geologist-they no less afford a rich variety of amusement to him whose pursuits lie not in the paths of science, but in the healthful recreations of the field, and whose loftiest aspirations extend no further than the slaughter of game in the most approved fashion. By the true sportsman it is allowed that in proportion to the danger, difficulty, and fatigue attending the pursuit of game, in the same ratio is the pleasure we experience when our skill and labour are rewarded on the death of the quay. Thus, then, your true man will shun the murderous battue as being at once a bastardized form of old English sport, and destitute of that excitement which, in a great degree, constitutes its chief delight. It cannot but be evident that the more frequently we are conversant with Nature in all her forms-whether in the Indian jungle, on the Alpine crag, or in her sweet-smiling aspect of the sunny south-the more humanized and real does the character become. By such sweet intercourse with our benign mother, the rust, the stain, that soils her fair handiwork in our contact with the world is obliterated, and the true and proper surface again shines forth in all its native comeliness and purity. Go where we may, even though it were into the black depths of the trackless forest, albeit the courage may flag, and the strength fail, yet in that very solitude there is a healing balm to the harassed soul, that whispers sweet comfort to the wanderer, and confirms in him the assurance that, although far removed from the busy haunts of men, he, at least, breathes not its contaminating atmosphere. There exists, therefore, another and more powerful reason why game should be pursued in their native wilds; and, we doubt not, a ready response will be accorded, in confirmation of the truth of the above speculations, by the heart of every reader. To a greater or less degree, sensations of this kind have been felt by all (for it is absurd to assert that even the most vicious do not retain some portion of their humanity); and to the poets, in particular, it has proved a source of rich and graphic illustration. "Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? And churlish chiding of the winter's wind; Which, when it bites and blows upon my body Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say- This is no flattery: these are counsellors, That feelingly persuade me what I am." But the reader will be disposed to ask the ad quem finem of this exordium; and, in truth, casting the eye to the title, it must be allowed with no little reason. We may, however, be pardoned for dwelling on a topic which must, or ought to be, a grand source of pleasure in the breast of every sportsman; and blest is he who, like Christopher North, can so mingle philosophy and sport, as to quaff large draughts of health, mental and bodily, by the same effort. In general estimation, the lake district is peculiarly adapted for the residence of the wearied denizen of life's great theatre; and thither the politician, the roué, the college don, and the tourist, hasten, with eager steps, to emancipate themselves, each from his own peculiar demon of ennui. Whatever may be the disparity in rank, the entire crowd may be properly considered as of one class. For a time, their pursuits and pleasures are the same; as Nature is as kind and bountiful to the peasant, as to the peer. But there is another class of lakefrequenters, whose avocations are written on their backs as distinctly as shooting-coats, fishing-rods, and other sporting paraphernalia, are capable of demonstrating: there is moreover a je ne sais quoi kind of manner, an unmistakable expression, that distinguishes at a glance your keen and knowing hand from the mere cockney in sporting clothes-the ass in the lion's skin. There is a sort of freemasonry by which men are enabled to distinguish the true from the untrue, the real from the would-be, in all that relates to the field; just in precisely the same manner as the habituated and observant eye detects the attempted fraud of the parvenu, through all his silly dazzle and glitter, who, with swaggering gait and exterminating look, would force the world into a belief of his transcendant magnanimity and importance. Such people, as Johnson remarked, are walking lies. Let the reader imagine himself to be hovering about the lake Ulleswater, and amusing himself one while with the gun, another with the rod, and anon struggling up the mountain side, to breathe both himself and dogs; now searching for an extensive prospect from the summit of a bleak and perilous crag, and again following in its tortuous course the sparkling rill, as onward it rushes in its rocky and uneven bed-let him realize this in imagination, and he will comprehend the capabilities of the locality. Often have we flitted from one lake to another, searching about for some unexplored nook from which to draw fresh gratification; and on such an errand were we engaged, when we were unexpectedly accosted by an old gentleman, whom we had frequently encountered in our wildest rambles. After the customary salutations, "I perceive, Sir," said he, "that you, like myself, find your dogs more companionable than the old twaddlers in yonder inn, with whom the chief sweetener in life's feast' seems to be whiskey-toddy." This was an ironical allusion to three gentlemen of a certain age, who, like the founders of the Cleikum club, thought with our great English moralist, that "the man who does not mind his stomach is a fool the belly is every man's master." They had displayed considerable gusto for the comestibles of "mine host of de Tarterre ;" and, like the Cleikum nabob, very probably had "written out a few items" for the old dame, and may even have ventured also to take "a peep occasionally into the kitchen and larder." ""Tis true, Sir," said we, "that we came not hither to eat, nor for the sole purpose of drinking whiskey-toddy, as the table of mine host may testify." So, then, it is you to whom we are beholden for our supply of fish and fowl ?" "Aye, truly is it." "Now, by my faith," said he, "that is the action of a young man, and is wanton waste, and no generosity. Why, Sir, that John o' the Inn is well to do in the world, and may be, for aught I know to the contrary, richer than I am myself. But inns and landlords, Sir, are my abomination. We, who throw ourselves on the mercy of innkeepers, live in a hospital: the fear of the bill keeps us in a constant, eternal, consuming sweating-bath; our purses are put on an anti-phlogistic regimen; and the ostlers, from sheer love of the noble animal doubtless, keep our horses on such low diet, that they are in no danger of dying from indigestion caused by repletion. But hark ye, Sir,' continued he, "if you've no better use for your game, give it to the poor woman with a fatherless family of five children down in yonder cottage, at the foot of the mountain; so you'll profit her now, and maybe yourself also at the great account. I've almost forgotten my college quips, but I remember one of a facetious fellow named Quintus Horatius Flaccus, who set out one fine day in his jaunting-car from Rome to Brundusium; and, at the second stage, he experienced that one great fact of travelling notoriety—the impudence of landlords, which he thus incidentally mentions: Inde Forum Appî Differtum nautis, cauponibus at que malignis ; and, believe me, Sir, that very verse has served as a plaister to my own sores, when I have been most sorely vexed with them, as it shows us the genus is irreclaimable as their own devoured viands. But come," says our amusing companion, "favour me with your company as far as the dark patch you see on the projecting ridge of the mountain, and the atmosphere being clear, I will point out to you a scene equal to any in the island of Calypso, and one you may well covet pour le plaisir des yeux." On we went in pleasant confab, now deep in this, and then in that, until a smart push at the hill side brought us to the point indicated by our new friend. "Well, here we are," said he, as we seated ourselves on the heathery bank;" and now what think you? Is it not worth a sharp tug? Rely upon it, you'll always be rewarded for your trouble in striking upwards. The blood courses through the veins more joyously, the spirits rise, and assume an ætherial lightness, and, in short, our whole nature becomes less earthy, and the indissoluble seems to rejoice in its partial liberation from the dissoluble. This spot is peculiarly associated in my mind with the romantic and the poetical, for here it was I sat two mortal hours with the immortal Wizard of the North-the author of Waverley. Yes, gazing on this fair scene below, the silver lake, unruffled by the breeze, and reflecting in its placid bosom the bare and rugged mountains by which it is enclosed |