ness of land; and that, consequently, I ought rather to have the benefit of horses in breaking them, or training them to my use, than in bringing them up.

Receive, I beg, sir, my respectful civilities, and the expression of the perfect consideration of your very humble and very obedient ser

A clever hand on this subject has thus written of it recently :"Let us not be disposed to disparage the importance of a subscription: quite the contrary. We maintain that subscription packs, with a local sportsman at their head, of station and influence, are the most legitimate establishments; but then the head must be a real head, and not merely a man to carry a horn. We also think subscription packs are productive of more energy and less cavilling than private ones. Every man feels his interest at stake both summer and winter, and will look to things all the year round, instead of lounging carelessly out during the season, leaving the breeding and protection of foxes, the propitiation of farmers, and other et cæteras, to the private owner of the hounds, who, in all probability, leaves it to the huntsman, who deputes it to the earth-stopper, who leaves it to an assistant, who leaves it undone. A subscription pack makes every man put his shoulder to the wheel, not only to keep down expense, but to promote sport, each subscriber feeling his own credit identified with the credit of the establishment. Somehow or other, the present generation do not subscribe to hounds as their fathers used to do. We know men who used to come down with their fifties as regular as could be, whose sons can hardly screw out five pounds for the Club, and then they talk as big about it as if they gave a hundred. One thing, perhaps, is, that luxuries have become more diffused, and the men of the present day have expenses their fathers and grandfathers did not dream of. Other pleasures too are more come-at-able; and altogether we are a less tarry-at-home people than we used to be. To be sure, in Boney's time there was no such thing as going abroad, except in the "dashing white sergeant" style; but still our forefathers enjoyed their hunting, and thought it the greatest luxury of life, and, we dare say, wished for nothing better.

A well-known sportsman of the old school has left a notice of the Pytchley country in Lord Althorp's time, which, as it affords a very graphic reminiscence of it, ought not to be omitted in this sketch. He commences with a general allusion to the country at the date of his record. Northamptonshire, he says, as a whole is hunted by many packs; but that which may be deemed its own more particular,

and from which it takes as well as gives to them a long, very long established reputation, second to none, and in the eyes of many superior to all, is that so well known as the Pytchley. This denomination it takes from a small hamlet or parish of that name, at the Old Manor House of which, in days of yore, when "there were giants in the land" (Dick Knight, who then hunted them, rode upwards of eighteen stone), and when they were at least as celebrated as ever they have been before or since they were kept, and whence also under the denomination of the Pytchley Hunt or Club, some of the first sportsmen of title, rank, and fashion of the day hung out their flag. Pytchley originally belonged to the Knightleys, whether of Fawsley or not I never knew. After it was given up as the regular Club House, it was frequently uninhabited. It had nothing very particular about it; and its situation, as the country was hunted under Lord Althorp and subsequently, was not just the most central. Probably when it was in its glory, a wider scope or a different district formed the scene of operations.

The country, still generally so called, as were the hounds as often as not-though their proper title then was Lord Althorp's-lay principally east, west, and north of Northampton, being more curtailed to the south, where the north of the Duke of Grafton's country bounded it. The hounds were kept at Althorp. This country, then, extends in the direction above-named, from Northampton, by and beyond Billinge, Sywell, Hardwick, the Harrowdens, Pytchley, Broughton, Kelmarsh, Stanford, Yelvertoft, Crick, Watford, Norton, Brockhall, Weedon, Fawsley, Lower Heyford, Duston, Upton, &c. This includes an immense tract of fine country, lying as it were in a ring, the nearest point to the centre of which is the town of Brixworth, seven miles on the direct road from Northampton, through Market Harborough to Leicester. Here, to a person who comes to hunt with the Pytchley and nothing else, is certainly the best place to quarter, and the accommodations are good. It was the abiding place of Messrs. Davy and Gurney; Colonels Alix, Park, and other first-rate sportsmen. Northampton is excellently situated in the middle of the Pytchley and the Duke of Grafton's country; and to a man who had half-a-dozen horses, and wanted to hunt every day in the week, was certainly the best point d'appui. Accommodation of every or any description to suit any man's purse or habits could be had; and there are comfortable inns of all sorts, which are all furnished with sufficiently good stabling. The George is the principal; and here, though there is no regular club, there is generally a good muster of sporismen, who, for the most part, live together. The Angel is equally good, and the stables are of the best description. As a town, I should say it is a particularly dull one.

Althorp, where the hounds were kept at this period, is four miles from Northampton, on the road to Rugby, and though lying rather to the left of the centre, is in that point much better than Pytchley. It was, moreover, excellently situated for some of their finest country, adjoining Warwickshire and Leicestershire-Crick, Watford Gap, Stanford Hall, &c. The residence of Mr. Osbaldeston, when he hunted the country-Pitsford House-was perhaps the best quarter in this respect in the county, lying close to Brixworth, in the very

centre of the whole. It was occupied at this period by Colonel Corbett, a veteran sportsman. The country on the whole is a severe one, both for man and horse. Indeed, none but a man and a hunter have any business in it. It may in some measure be divided into two parts, having each, on the main, characteristic and distinguishing features the grass district more decidedly. The road already spoken of as leading to Market Harborough may be taken as a rough division of them: the country to the right and north-east of Northampton, and stretching away by Sywell Wood and the Harrowdens towards Kettering, and thence westerly towards Kelmarsh, Naseby, &c., being the plough; arable land chiefly prevailing, and some of it very extensive and heavy. As to Naseby Field, of bloody memory, it is reckoned the veriest choke-jade in England, for it would stop almost anything in deep weather if fairly ridden over. When it is even partially so attempted, there are always tales to tell-spell the word. "tale" or "tail," whichever you please.

On the other hand, taking the country from its furthest extent in the south-west from Fawsley, and so on back by Weedon, Brockhall, Watford, Crick, and Stanford, the intermediate is almost wholly a grass country of the most splendid description. Of course I do not mean to say the one has not sprinklings of turf, and the other occasional strips of plough, but these are their general characteristics. Both are tremendously fenced: the post and railing on the plough of other days having given way to the now grown-up hedges, which they never used to cut; while the enclosures about the villages are stiff, stark, and well staked. Brooks, too, adorn the bottoms--not your piddling water-cuts, so dignified to suit the vanity of the would-be hard rider, but genuine streamlets, in which there is no mistake, if you manage no hard matter-to get in. Bullock-fences, and all the variety necessary to keep in cattle; stiff stiles, locked gates, &c., bedeck the grass country in profusion. Nor is it deficient in water, either running or in large pools: where these latter lie, as they frequently do, just under a bull-finch, they prove no mean squire-trap. I have seen three "gents" at one and the same time in one of them. I have been in myself" horresco referens." The main desagrément in both these lines of country is the practice of not cutting the hedges, at least, it was so. I think it is Devonshire that does or did boast of broken knees as a coat of arms: the Pytchley might as well of bunged ogles. Scarcely any horse can go a season or two in this county without injury to, or partial loss of, sight; and the rider has so much to do to guard his own, that he can hardly take as much care as he might perhaps of his horse. While I was there I had one horse lost an eye, and another blemished, though not injured, through severe slaps in these tremendous high and stiff quicks. Nevertheless, difficult as it is, it is the best country in England to please me, and I never yet knew one who stuck to it but liked it, though he might have felt otherwise at first.

It may not be in good taste, perhaps, to say a great deal about the master he who now hunts the Commons pack for my Lord Grey in the St. Stephens' country. It is not my business, whether it might or might not be for the benefit of the field at large; but I will hazard * The reader will keep the date of this reminiscence in his "mind's eye."

the assertion that the former noble official would find it greatly for his own ease if he could introduce among these heterogeneous and babbling new drafts, whom their second season don't seem to have much improved, some of the admirable discipline he had established in the Pytchley. It was so perfect that there is no use in trying to describe it: where there was literally nothing to object to, there could be nothing to notice.

Lord Althorp was a thorough sportsman, a resolute rider, and, of course, mounted as such a man in such a country should be. I speak it not (no sportsman could suppose another guilty of such folly) in disparagement of men like Musters and Osbaldeston: but it was a sorrowful day to those used to that establishment-about which the manly condescension and noble urbanity threw a halo within the influence of which a man must have been to conceive-when the endless vexations of a badly dislocated shoulder, which never could be kept in its place, induced Lord Althorp to give up the Pytchley.

Of their huntsman, Charles King, few words will suffice: anything I could say would add none to his well-earned reputation. In my humble opinion, he was the best huntsman I ever saw; for in a long acquaintance I cannot call to mind ever having seen him commit anything like a blunder. Everything went every day (weather, of course, allowed for), like clockwork. The basis of his system was evidently hunting, and nothing else. "Hounds, do your work!"To this was superadded a quickness, in which, while there was no bustle, there was as little delay. If necessary, and it was seldom I saw him practise it, he could let the varmint feel that he knew as much as himself, and sometimes a little more. He was an excellent horseman, ever with his hounds, and liked and would permit few to ride before him. He was admirably mounted, always with two horses out. In this respect, as probably in others, I heard he was much indulged, from not being in a general good state of health. cannot enumerate all the good ones I have seen him on, but I will name one or two-Blue Beard, a bay gelding, not apparently thorough-bred, a good 14 st. horse (King was about 12 st.), and said to be as perfect a hunter and as good a horse as any in England, but impossible to shoe without casting;-Grasper, a black gelding, nearly sixteen hands high, a stealing horse in any country or ground, and, to my idea, the beau ideal of a crack huntsman's horse; he wore the coat of arms I spoke of-a queer eye; indeed, he was, I believe, quite blind of it, from a slap of a thorn hedge;-Sir Paul, a thoroughbred brown gelding, sixteen hands high, with lop ears; a lengthy powerful horse, not a showy hunter, but apparently a great favourite.

The first whip, Jem Wood, was in all respects worthy of those above him. He was the best horseman I ever remember to have seen; and Dick Christian, of Melton celebrity, however excellent he was, could not have been better. A young thorough-bred one, that never saw a hound, was in his hands a perfect hunter; and many a one he used to ride for the neighbouring gentry. One day, at Sywell, we were not able to throw off till past twelve for the snow, which, however, had thawed by that time sufficiently. A very sharp burst succeeded an immediate find, and in the bustle the snow-balls from the horses' feet were anything but sport. Wood was on Calaba, a

That

Sorcerer mare, bred, I believe by Mr. Andrews, of Harleston, but now belonging to Mr. Elwes, of Billing-a descendant (grandson, I believe) of the Elwes a first-rate performer with hounds, and who mostly rode thorough-bred ones. This mare was then just five years' old, and like most of Mr. Andrews' stock at that time, had not turned out in the high form that the great care, expense, and experience bestowed upon it might have led others, as well as the breeder, to calculate upon. But if ever there was a thing which man yet tried wherein he ought to fortify himself against the ten chances to one of unlooked-for and endless failure, where, on the contrary, from all the premises, precedents, and data, he has good reason to look for complete success, it is in the breeding of thorough-bred stock to race. Mr. Andrews bred some very good horses there can be no doubt; but were they in performance like what everything would have induced the most fastidious even to reckon on? I cannot help thinking they were not. Well, Wood was on this raw mare: she had been trained and tried I forget whether she had ever raced or not; but at this time she had been only as many months taken off suckling her first foal as put her in sufficient condition to stand the rally she was sure to get from Wood. She was a lengthy, rather hollow-backed chesnut mare, and to look at, barely able to carry 12 st. The shower of snow and mud-balls from the horses' feet was, as I have said, anything but sport, and after getting through the first gate, a few of us hauled to our left to avoid it: among others, Wood. It brought us upon an ox-fence, a very high flight of rails, with a sort of hedge and a deep, wet, broad ditch on the other side. The leading man, Mr. Nethercoat, of Haslebeach, a determined rider, charged it on a known good hunter whose whole four legs, however, the snow-balls took from under him at taking off, and he went through into the next field about as ugly a fall as need be, where he lay, horse and all, doubled up like a hedgehog. Wood was sufficiently to his left, and behind, to have pulled up. But no! young or old, trained or as green as holly, was all one to him. At it he put her; and such a fence, taken in so fine a style, I never saw horse and rider clear. I made use of the fallen man's clearance; and hearing from himself that, as the Irishman says, he was only kilt, I played away as best I was able. We had a trying sharp burst of about five miles to a drain, whence our fox was again bolted in less than five minutes, and thence a very severe chivy by Orlingbury and Isham to a large homestead and farm near Barton Seagrave, where King, seeing pug was likely to prove tricky, gave one of the few lifts I ever knew him make, and turned up Charley in a ditch. Through the whole of this, Wood was going at his ease, and the mare at hers apparently, and "no mistake," in every sense of the word, and seemed to make no bones about it; and I believe he made this animal perfect in a few days. He had done the same before for Mr. Elwes, with one horse in particular, a Sorcerer, too, of Mr. Andrews' breeding, which turned out a superb hunter. I have seen Wood on a famous nag, and once on a coach horse, to which he was reduced in consequence of an accident-and it was all the same. They all went brilliantly; but how was probably as much known to Wood as to themselves. His style, in every sense of the word, was impressive: he put them at anything-gene