below the mark rather than above it. In connexion with this view only, and not in proof of its-accuracy, I may mention that at Tattersall's (where the average has been set down as only £45 a horse) on the 15th of December a day I don't select, but take at haphazardI see that two of Sir Robert Peel's hunters fetched the common enough price of 150 and 190 guineas respectively; and the same day Mr. Carew's racing stud and steeple-chasers-altogether just a score of them-fetched £1,858, which gives an average of £92 18s., or as near ninety-three pounds as may be. REPOSITORY GOSSIP.-Giving up figures for a minute's repositorygossip, I may mention that the Mr. Gower, whose melodramatic rapidity of manner and clipped cockney utterance I have goodnaturedly noticed, is now part-proprietor and sole seller at Dixon's. He was clerk of the course at Barbican until the death of Mr. Dixon, who died a few months back. Mr. Batcham was also a clerk; but having married his master's daughter, he has taken his father-in-law's place. Robinson, although not "aged," I hear is a good deal the worse for work. I remember him in my "sallet days," one of the most genial-looking, active-minded, mercurial men in the horsetrade; but, as we all know, "it is the pace that kills:" and "fast" has been the word with him, until he hasn't, I fear, a leg to stand on. With rest, however, it is to be hoped he will come round again, and again gladden his friends with that golden-coloured, sunny face, which was always welcomed wherever he went. "Young Richard Tattersall" and the Aldridge Atlas are about the same height; the city horse-sellers are shorter, they are little men. The former, without a pun, may be said to stand higher-by inches; and the two west-end repositories are palaces of places compared with those of their civic compeers. While talking about these trifles, I inay add an observation of similar insignificance, and say that although I confess to a dislike of the incongruity of men who have to do with nothing but horses, horse-buyers, and horse-sellers, dressing like linen-drapers' hermaphrodites or undertakers' men, I am by no means absurd enough to attach any importance whatever to the way in which a man apparels himself. But I can't help thinking that the late Mr. Aldridge's blue coat and bullion buttons, white cravat, and buckskin gloves were in better keeping than a bagman's finery. By the bye, old Squire Cox of Hillingdon, and his stalwart sons, so well known with the Queen's, still stick to the good old style of a country gentleman's dress-now so seldom seen. Where all the horses go to that are sold at the several London repositories is a problem, the solution of which is by no means so easy as it seems. The acting men themselves at the repositories are puzzled to know the destination of the hundreds of horses sold by them every week all the year round. They know that a great many of them go down into the country; and they know that lots of them are put to work in London; and that appears to be all they do know. When we consider that one omnibus concern alone (Wilson's), managed by a brother and sister, and as systematically managed as old Mrs. Nelson, of Aldgate, so exemplarily punctual in keeping time, used to conduct the coaching concern-that one omnibus business alone employs more than 800 horses; that there are several others with as many; while the London Conveyance Company, and some other companies, have, each of them, a great many more-when this fact is taken into consideration, it requires no extraordinary degree of deductive philosophizing to conclude that the omnibus proprietors must be amongst the best customers of the repositories. Apropos of the Wilsons, and the progress which is the characteristic of our times, I may mention the fact, that in 1833 they had only three omnibuses; now they have 54 to be horsed, besides I know not how many Broughams. Turning to Tattersall's, is it not noticeable that they keep to their "antiqua via," even in the selection of an advertising medium? While all the other horse-auctioneers in London figure with their advertisements in The Times, the Messrs. Tattersall still convey their information to the public, as they have always done, through the columns of (at any rate) the consistent conservative Morning Post. They are always at their post. A nephew, I see, is now in official harness, making up the old number in the firm. In concluding this conversation, I may observe that the omnibus proprietors furnish a practical illustration of the hackneyed axiom which protests that "unity is strength," for they charge just what they please. They raise their fares-they did so during the Exhibition mania, in defiance of all remonstrance-and let them down again as they did directly the Crystal Palace was closed, consulting alone their own pecuniary interests in each operation. The combination of stage-coach proprietors-a much higher class of men-was quite feeble and inoperative, compared with that of the omnibus-men. The latter, indeed, have obtained a really powerful degree of organization. And amongst the many sounding schemes that are submitted in the shape of companies, proclamation is made of a Grand Junction project, and I know not what besides. ANECDOTES OF FOXES. BY LATITAT. "Aha! the fox! and after him they ran; CHAUCER. Although the fox was treated with contumely, and thought but little of in hunting by our forefathers-by whom he was trapped, taken in nets and hayes, ignominiously destroyed, and unmercifully persecuted, he has within a comparatively short period risen in the estimation of the English sportsman, and become pre-eminent as the principal object in the chase; while the wolf, boar, bear, martin or wild cat, hare, the noble stag, and favourite beasts of "venerie" in the olden day, have entirely disappeared, degenerated, or are superseded in public estimation by the peculiar and paramount claims of the fox to the notice of modern hunters. Within these last fifty years the martin-cat has disappeared; but the red deer are not quite extinct in Wychwood Forest; and the breed of this fine animal has much deteriorated, to judge from a remarkably large right antler of a red deer, pulled out of the old river near Fawler Mill in a fishing net about twenty-five years ago, and in my possession; as well as others I have seen elsewhere, particularly at Ditchley House, where there are some very large antlers of stags killed in hunting by King James and his son, Prince Henry; and also some broken antlers of red deer of large size, found here lately in the railway excavations, in a black clay, fourteen feet deep, near the river, with which was found a man's lower jaw of great size, with the teeth white and perfect. All the stags remaining in this forest were hunted and destroyed by the Duke of Grafton's hounds, about a century ago, having become very mischievous and dangerous by ferociously attacking persons and cattle and unpleasant tidings have long been rife of an intention to demolish the remaining portion of their romantic and immemorial haunts, and extirpate the deer tribe altogether. The hare was formerly much esteemed in hunting, particularly with the monks, who constantly maintained packs of hounds; and in Chaucer's time, the Abbot of Leicester was a famous hunter, and his reputation for skill in the sport so great, that the king, his son, and several noblemen engaged his services to hunt with them, by paying him an annual pension. Thus saith that old poet : : 66 A monk there was, a fair for the mast'ry An outrider that loved venerie A manly man to be an abbot able. Full many a dainty horse had he in stable. Greyhounds he had, as swift as fowl of flight. Was all his lust; for no costs would he spare." The hare still continues to afford excellent sport with hounds, and justly finds many admirers; but the fox-the noble, gallant old fox-has attained the first position, and stands unrivalled in modern hunting, and so we earnestly hope he may long continue. Nor would I pass unnoticed, and without yielding my full meed of admiration, to those spirited supporters of our modern packs of deer-hounds. It is a noble sport, and interesting as presenting a little of the colour of the old picture of stag-hunting-a vestige of those customs attending the pursuit of the stag-hind and roe-buck in the olden day: the pageantry and danger attending it, or the daring required in attacking him at bay, having become the subject, and live only in history and rhyme. While volumes have been written on hunting subjects, and the qualities of horses and hounds, very little has been said on the nature and habits of that splendid little animal, the fox. In natural histories he never occupies so prominent a place as he deserves, and is oftentimes passed by unnoticed; and although not the most useful, is a very useful animal, and certainly a droll, interesting, and amusing one, In his capture, the capabilities of hounds are taxed to the utmost in pursuing him, the speed of the horse, the dexterity and ingenuity of man, are continually exercised. In hunting this stout, fleet, and vigilant little animal, the greatest rational amusement has been afforded to millions of our countrymen for centuries, who might otherwise have wasted their time and money at gaming tables, or in imbecile amusements, and died prematurely, unpitied and unlamented; but who, in pursuit of this manly and health-giving sport, have strongly built up, or afterwards renovated, constitutions weakened by sedentary employment, or perhaps impaired by early follies; and having thus recruited their strength and reinvigorated their spirits, consequently lived to a good old age, beloved and honoured in their respective localities for their acknowledged merit and the great amount of good by them conferred; whose bounty called down blessings upon them from their poorer neighbours, in whose hearts it was their pride to live, and their greatest happiness to reside and hunt around them. Hurrah for a good fox-hunting country squire! He is the best model of a man. What an incalculable amount of good, and also of amusement, has been caused by this one animal, the fox! Away with his cowardly and clandestine assailants-the trapper and the secret vulpecide; and when discovered, let him be shown up with abhorrence to well-merited infamy, that others may turn from the sin, and shame, and sorrow of his example. Let reynard flourish for ever for the legitimate purposes of true sport only; and when his last moment arrives, let him die among hounds, after nobly flying for life in the hour of the chase. It seems harsh and improper to designate him by such opprobrious and unmeaning epithets as "varmint," and other terms so derogatory to his merits, common in the copious vocabulary of slang. I prefer the expressions of many good sportsmen, and love to hear him spoken of by them in such a respectful manner as a "good," "gallant," or "sporting fox," &c. He is as remarkable for his beauty as his speed, for courage as for instinct and cunning, for stoutness, endurance, intrepidity, and strength. "I never mind fox-hounds on my land," grumbles even the surliest farmer; "a fox soon takes them straight across it, and are gone, and the only mischief done then is by farmers out with 'em, in nine times out of ten; but an old jack hare may dodge about it all day." Straight as the crow flies, generally, if unchecked, reynard bears off a-head. On the first intimation of the approaching pack, he starts, uncurls his pliable body, and listens from his warm bed in the solitary covert; and then, jumping up, swings his white-tipped brush over a fence, is off like a bird over hill and valley, through dingles and woods, boldly crossing the wide stream, and threading his way along hedgerows, through villages, devious paths, and numerous fields; trying one stopped earth for protection, and then another; hoping on, hoping ever; beset by dangers and obstacles innumerable; frightened and turned aside by reiterated holloas from country bumpkins in various quarters; headed by ploughmen; turned back by objects animate and inanimate; suspicious of everything before and around him; chased by Bob, the sheep-dog, and beset too frequently by another dangerous enemy-the greyhound; who, in the first or repeated attempts often succeeds, from his lanky form, in picking him up like a hare, in despite of terrific grims from reynard's three-cornered-looking phiz, occasional snaps from whose rattrap a dog never relishes, and may eventually operate in his favour. : Nevertheless, in these attacks, he is frequently disabled and occasionally killed. Escaping all these perils, he still plods perseveringly onward, while the cries and loud thunders of the hunters behind, swelling down wind, ever and anon spur him on to increased exertion, yet proclaim the fearful odds against which he is struggling. How often after a long journey of from fifteen to thirty miles does he get to earth, or otherwise foil his pursuers by exercising that instinet with which nature has endowed him, and live, perhaps, to repeat the same again and again! I believe they soon recover from such tremendous exertion, and seldom die from it, unless suffocated in wet drains; and if chased into a rabbit spout, they soon turn round, if they can, towards the entrance, for air. The late Duke of Beaufort's hounds ran a fox hereabouts, ten or a dozen times successively. It was a "bob-tailed" one, and found generally in one place, and always pointed to Witney, and escaped by some stratagem unknown. However, in repeating the experiment once too often, his strength or cunning failed him, and he died by that pack he had so often successfully defied. I heard a keeper once say, "I like a fox; there's summut so sensible about him: and many a time he has passed beneath the very tree in which I have been watching, and looked as serious and full of thought as if all the care of the world was upon him but if he sees you, or hears a noise, it soon goes off. We know he thieves a bit, and that's his natur; and men thieve, but it arn't their natur; and a cat steals, and never gets half the blame a poor fox does." He told me that he was once waiting on the top of a wall to get a shot at a rabbit, with his gun cocked, resting on the branch of a tree, when a vixen fox came along under the wall beneath him, without his having attracted her attention; and to have a bit of fun, he took a shot charge out of his waistcoat pocket, and dropped it down on her back. The effect was electrical she twined round in a twinkling, and simultaneously uttered a short, sharp snarl, made a fierce snap as it fell, and to use Corporal Trim's exclamation as he dropped his stick to give stability to his opinion on the uncertainty of life, "was gone in an instant.' He remarked, that it was a pretty sight to see a vixen, with her cubs around, at play on a moonlight night; having seen them so occupied while watching occasionally in oak trees, beneath whose roots they had been bred--that they played exactly as kittens, one pursuing the other, all running off together, and then scampering back again; anon having something like a sham fight, then playing so rough as to make it look like a real one; performing divers other antics and capers, and occasionally playing with the mother, who seemed most of the time to be on the alert, looking out for something, watching them, and grooming herself. He had now and then seen a young fox in the day time attempt the capture of a pheasant; alternately watching, crouching, retreating, as if in play, to avoid attracting their attention; again returning, endeavouring unperceived to get near enough to make a spring. The birds keenly and timidly eyed him while at a respectful distance, and when at last he seemed inclined for a closer acquaintanceship with them. than was desirable, rose up with startled cries and flew away. With regard to food, they seem to make little distinction as to whether fish, fowl, or flesh, and even insects. Eye-witnesses have declared to me that they have seen them scratching and turning over manure for food of some kind, and frequently snap at, and devour with apparent relish, |