London, on the Newcastle Wellington coach, which passes Alcombury Hill at eight o'clock, A.M., getting to the end of the journey in seasonable time for dinner. During my tour, I rode twenty-three good horses, the mention of which is due to the kindness of their owners. I shall now conclude my detail with a few general remarks.

I would wish to see fox-hunting pursued for its own sake—that is, for the sake of the enjoyment itself affords, rather than for the fashion of the thing, which is, at the present day, too much the case. The crowded fields, however, are easily accounted for. The professions of the army and navy being now at a stand, the country abounds with young men, with money in their pockets, who will hunt so long as it lasts, and many of them are well equal to afford the expenses of a stud. But, with a great proportion of this class, riding is the motive that brings them into the field, and too often to the detriment of sport with hounds. In fact, marching with the times at what is called "double quick," the whole thing is become too fast to please a real sportsman, who desires to see hounds hunt:-witness the reason proclaimed by Sir F. Holyoake Goodricke, and Mr. George Payne, for being obliged to over-ride Lord Chesterfield's hounds! What would Mr. Meynell have said to this? What, John Warde, John Corbet, Ralph Lambton, Villebois, and others of the true fox-hunting blood? They would have said: "Mark out the ground, hoist the red flags, and, without hounds, see which is the best man, on the best horse." I could also wish to see more steadiness of purpose in the masters of hounds of these days. There are too many changes of occupiers of countries; which give the appearance of slackness in the pursuit, and create uneasiness as to the future, in the real lovers of fox-hunting. It is not within my province to dictate to persons of this class-a class for whom I have the highest respect, and to whom I am indebted for many years of the highest enjoyment at their hands; but I cannot refrain from the suggestion, that, and all efficient purposes would be answered by it,—if a lesser scale of expenditure was considered adequate to the establishment of a pack of foxhounds, there would not be so many changes of masters of them as we have lately seen. It may not, perhaps, be obvious to all well-wishers to fox-hunting, how much is the value and worth of a master of hounds amongst the yeomen and farmers of a country estimated by the length of time he may have been amongst them; neither is it borne in mind, that it requires a certain sort of man to be popular with this class of persons, which the late farewell dinner, at Leicester, to Mr. Errington, afforded proof of. Lord Chesterfield may, I think, be held out as a pattern-card, in this respect. In addition to his good-humoured countenance, there is a gaiety of manner, and a general affability about his Lordship, which, wi hout in the least detracting from his station, is calculated to please a country. I ventured a prognostication that such would be the case, previously to his taking Northamptonshire; and I am happy to think that it will be verified.

Every time that I have visited England, during the last seven years, I have observed a gradual change in the character of the English hunter, but which I do not altogether approve of. It is not merely that, to my old-fashioned eye, the bang-tailed, thorough-bred weed, does not look like a hunter, but I am convinced that he is not

worthy to be called such. Nevertheless, how many of this description do we now see in the field, and how unlike hunters is their appearance! On my asking a young and rich Leicestershire baronet, the last time I was in that county, whether it were possible that such a slight bit of blood as he was mounted upon, could carry him across it? he replied in the affirmative. But mark the proof of his assertion. The baronet and his friend were making their way to Lowesmere, where Lord Suffield resided, after the day's sport was concluded, together with myself and his Lordship's brother, the Hon. Capt. Harbord, who shewed us the road across the country. We came to a fence, which, from the strength of the growers, required a horse of some power to get over. Captain Harbord, on Wildgoose, and myself on Cigar, a strong horse of Lord Suffield's, thought nothing of it, but where were the baronet and his friend, on their bang-tail weeds? They were obliged to go back for half a mile, until they could find a weaker place. Reader, be assured, that blood, without substance, will not do in hunters for Leicestershire, nor the counties adjoining it. I do not recollect to have seen more than one black hunter in this tour, and that was the Duke of Beaufort's Archdeacon. The colour is fast disappearing in this sort of horse; which shews that they are gradually becoming further removed from the "black mamma."

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The following question was put to me by several, during my last visit to England. Why do you continue to live in France?" My answer was, "Where can I be better situated?" Where, but in France, (and in three hours I am in England, and in twelve in its capital) can I have a good house, and every convenience about it, for twenty-six pounds a-year? Where, but on the Continent, can I drink a bottle of good claret for two shillings, and keep a horse or a carriage without paying a heavy tax? I can only reply, then, in the language of Shak

speare,

"My poverty, and not my will, consents."

"But, society," says another, "is there any in Calais ?" I have already defined Calais society in a few words. There is only one man in the place who can tell you who "Tom Smith" is! I once heard of the name of " John Mytton," being mentioned in the presence of one of the most respectable of our residents, as they are called. "Are you speaking of John Mytton the stock-broker, for I knew him well?" was his remark. Had I been present, I should have answered "No, but of John Mytton the stock-breaker." Fancy there being any one man found in decent society who had never heard of John Mytton! But, as Milton says,

"Solitude is sometimes best society;"

and yet, although I do not profess to be one of the nunquam minús solus quám cúm solus class, what can I know of solitude and its disagreeableness? I have a few prattling tongues under my own roof, speaking the pure language of Nature; and when they are silent, I am never at a loss to supply the vacuum of a leisure hour :-a letter of Pliny, an oration by Cicero, an ode of Horace, a favourite passage in Virgil, Sir Walter Scott, or the "Times" newspaper, never fail to do

that.

NIMROD.

P.S.-The following list of Lord Moreton's foxhounds having been omitted, by an error, in inserting that of Lord Segrave's in its place, I request its insertion here. NIMROD.