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understand who the speakers could be; the jargon of being "called for twelve," " up in the part,' Fap," "tag," and "gag," were beyond my powers of comprehension. I had heard of tag and rag, and thought the party represented that well-known firm. "Cue," "sylls," "supers," "flies," "wings," "floats," "drops," all baffled my understanding; and I was pondering over the whole scene, when my attention was diverted to a new object-the arrival of a post-chaise, in which were seated two gentlemen, and on the roof of which two large trunks were piled.

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Sorry to have kept you waiting," said one of the new-comers, as he hastily descended from the vehicle, and addressed the party already alluded to. "I was unable to leave Birmingham before ten, the treasurer could not make out his account sooner."

After this explanation, the party entered the mysterious side-door, and I was left in wonder and astonishment. Mr. Taylor now joined me, and we proceeded to the "Willows"-a small, unpretending, villa on the skirts of the ancient town, where we were most kindly welcomed by our friends.

"The Willows" was unlike the usual class of suburban villas; the good taste of the owners having suggested that a neat, unadorned building, with a lawn in front, and kitchen-garden in the rear, was far preferable to an Italian structure, an Elizabethan cottage, or a Grecian tusculum, with gothic bridges, gaudy verandas, Chinese temples, shell grottoes, fantastic aviaries, and other monstrosities, which usually form the beau ideal of a citizen's country-box. Mr. Ramsay, his wife, and daughter, came across the well-mowed lawn to meet us, and, with that good sense which characterizes high breeding, placed us entirely at our ease by saying, that wine, fruits, and cake were laid out in the dining-room, that dinner would be on table at four, and that in the intermediate time we were at liberty to stroll through the town, and not think it necessary to confine ourselves to the monotony of a walk through the shrubberies, or a visit to the cabbages; the worthy host reminding us of a story of the gentleman, who never went to a country-house without providing himself with a gouty shoe, that he might plead lameness as an excuse for not being victimized by some enthusiastic horticulturist, wild florist, or infatuated agriculturist, in walking him through the hot-houses, conservatories, poultry, yard, and piggeries. Alexander-or, as he was familiarly called, Alec-Ramsay had been the architect of his own fortune. At an early age he found himself an orphan, and was placed, through the kindness of a friend of his father's, at one of those excellent charityschools, which, to the honour of our country, are to be met with in every town and hamlet throughout England. Here the acuteness and intelligence of the youth attracted the attention of the visiting clergy. man, and ascertaining from the master that, to the above qualifications, Alexander possessed the strongest habits of industry, the truly pious divine recommended him to a house of business in London. The firm of Hardy, Trueman, and Co., stockbrokers, held the highest character in the metropolitan city, and to them young Ramsay was apprenticed as a boy of all work. Here his industry, even more than his talents, shone so preeminently forth, that in a short time he was promoted from the menial office of opening and closing the shutters and sweeping the floors to the more honourable one of a place at the

desk. Young "Cocker"-as he was universally called by his brother clerks, from his readiness at calculations-remained in this situation until an opportunity occurred of advancement. The firm had some business of the greatest importance to transact in the East Indies, and, as none of the partners could well be spared, Alec Ramsay was entrusted with the affair; this he accomplished with so much credit to himself, and advantage to his employers, that shortly after his return from Calcutta he was taken into the firm, having previously married the daughter of the elder partner. From this time, the worthy stockbroker's affairs flourished even beyond his most sanguine expectations. His marriage turned out a most happy one, a boy and a girl being the result of it; and it was the father's pride to inculcate, after those primary duties of religion and morality, the habits of industry and frugality into the minds of his offspring. With deep-felt gratitude to the disposer of all events, would Alec Ramsay recount anecdotes of his early life; he loved to dwell upon that period, when, with only half-a-crown in his pocket, he made his way up to London in the waggon, and entered the service of the kind benefactors of his youth, unknown by, unknown to, all-a solitary wanderer on life's wild waste. He would describe the manner in which he proved the truth of the old axiom, "a penny saved is a penny got," and which laid the first stone of that capital which he realized in after-life.

"When first I went to London," would the prudent, although not penurious parent say, "I found that the wish of my employers was, that those under their care should devote their leisure hours to outdoor exercise, and not be driven to theatres or other public places of resort. With this view, and as their correspondence was numerous, and generally of importance, the delivery of letters was entrusted to those clerks whose probity had been tested; the postage, then twopence for each letter, was at the end of the week paid to them in addition to their stipend. This was an inducement for early rising; and many a morning I have got up at daylight in summer, and in the Cark during winter, to do my additional duty of postman. After office hours, too, I have gone my round, and have often received a pound a week for this profitable recreation."

With anecdotes similar to the above, would honest Alec amuse his children. The boy, named after his father, had been promised a lucrative situation in the Customs; while the daughter, his senior by four years, who was under her mother's especial care, was brought up in a manner which the fast "go-a-head" march of intellect of the present day might describe as unfashionable, but which was, nevertheless, calculated to make her most estimable in every station of life. In the midst of almost uninterrupted happiness, an event occurred, which in a fatal moment, dashed the cup of earthly bliss from the lips of this united family. During the summer of 1807, Alec Ramsay who had managed my father's affairs for some period-proposed that I should accompany him and his son, who was four years older than myself, to the then small watering place, Bognor, where Mrs. Ramsay and her daughter had passed the previous month. This request was promptly acceded to, and a merrier trio never started for an excursion of pleasure. On our journey down, young Alec and myself could talk of nothing but bathing, boating, and donkey-driving; amply provided with pocket-money, we looked forward with the brightest.

anticipations to our fortnight's amusement. The very first morning after our arrival, all joy vanished. My youthful companion and myself had got up at daylight to pick shells from the then far-famed rocks; unaware of the rapidity and strength of the flowing tide, we had both progressed further than prudence dictated, and I was intently occupied in securing a large piece of seaweed, when my attention was attracted by the piercing cry of my comrade. I looked round, and saw him on a rock surrounded with water; to rush to his rescue was the work of a moment, but ere I could reach the spot, he, panicstruck, had tried to gain the sand, and the rushing waters rising and guggling over a deep hole, formed by the recent wreck of a collier brig, engulphed the poor boy before assistance could be obtained. From the beach, his father, mother, and sister had witnessed the sad catastrophe, finding that we had not returned to breakfast, they had come out to join us, little anticipating the harrowing sight that so soon presented itself. I was half distracted at the mournful event, and almost impiously wished that I had shared my companion's fate. One consolation alone remained-that of having risked my life for his safety; for it was with difficulty that I had been saved from a watery grave. I will not dwell upon this painful subject. How often in the hour of sickness and solitude have I meditated upon the inscrutable ways of Providence, and with an overflowing heart have shed tears of gratitude over my miraculous escape! The bereft parents were too much impressed with religious feelings to give way to inordinate grief; still they mourned over the untimely fate of their darling boy. Old Alexander Ramsay, having realized a handsome fortune, had retired from business, and had removed to Coventry, the place of his nativity, where he built the "Willows," and, by his precept, example, and unostentatious charity, made himself beloved by all who knew him. There was a sad remembrance attached to the name of the villa. Poor Alec had been buried at Felpham Church, under a drooping villa, and the disconsolate father, in the first paroxysm of his grief, had prevailed upon the incumbent to permit him to take shoots of that tree, and which had immediately been planted in the newly-purchased land upon which the unassuming structure my tutor and myself were about to enter had been erected. (To be continued.)

THE CLOSE OF THE HUNTING SEASON.

BY RABY.

This month closes the hunting season of 1851-2.

"Now fades each glimmering red-coat from the scene,
And o'er the air a stillness reigns profound,
Save bleat of frisking lamb, or, heard between,
The distant yelping of some wayward hound."

I never remember so dry a season, and one in which, generally speaking, so little sport has been shown; of course, there have been exceptions, and, with some packs, the sport may have been good; but from all I have seen and heard, it has been a very unsatisfactory

season to the hunting community at large. In those extensive woodlands, where the custom of hunting or killing a heavy fox has existed, the dry weather has forced the rule to be broken through this season; no one, I should imagine, wishing to hunt with the ground as hard as iron, and a burning sun over his head. Even the Hey. throp Hounds, who generally go on as long as any others, finished their forest hunting about the 13th of April-Hills finding it useless to go on. They had a good run the first day they went to work, regular forest hunting-running straight through the forest of Wychwood to Minster Wood, and on to Ringwood Oak, back again to the Forest Glen, and killing their fox at Evenden.

But of all the scenes of the season, that with Lord Drumlanrig's hounds must stand first and foremost, killing their fox more than twenty miles, as the crow flies, from the place where he was foundnamely, finding the fox at the Barr covert, and killing him on or near the river Nith.

The

The old Berkshire Hounds have had their share of sport, and have done perhaps more than most packs, having had many good runs, and killing their foxes at the finish. They have killed forty, or more, brace of foxes, and have run twenty-four brace to ground. young hounds promise well for next season. The farmers in this hunt, to the number of two hundred or more, dined at Tulney with Mr. Morrell, the master of the hounds, on the Wednesday and Friday in Easter week, and, from the speeches and good feeling that was expressed on the occasion, there is no doubt that fox-hunting has its supporters in them.

The Puckeridge Hounds have also had some good runs; two or three I will name, as being something better than usual with the foxhounds this season. March the 4th produced a good run from Barkway. In consequence of the frost, the hounds did not throw off till one o'clock, and found their fox at Haleswood, running him through this covert, and away over Lady Clinton's Park and the Barkway road, leaving the windmill on the left, and running through Newselsbury Park, and pointing for the Seven Rides; going to the left to Reedhill, and putting his head straight for the plantations on Mordean Heath, he was killed near the railroad, about a hundred yards short of the heath-time, 40 minutes; distance, as the crow flies, about nine miles. March 24th, Langley Green.-Found a fox at Langley Highwood; the hounds ran him 30 minutes in covert, then forced him away for Cleavling Park, and over the open to Scarles Park, through it, and away, leaving Anstey village on the right, and going straight for the Great Hormead Windmill, and up to Little Hormead Church, then turning to the right, and over the brook and the Barkway road to Hassick Hall Wood; then crossing the Buntingford road near the West Mill Gate, over the meadows up to Coales Park, and was killed on the Munden side after a fine run of one hour and a half in the open, and thirty minutes in covert, having ran in and through eight or nine parishes. These hounds had also another good day from Pye Corner, killing in the open at Uphall Farm, after a run of one hour and twenty minutes.

These runs must have been highly satisfactory to that good and quiet sportsman, Mr. Parry, the master of the Puckeridge Hounds, and also to his huntsman, Dinnicomb.

The close of the season generally causes regret amongst hunting men, but this season I really think that many were heartily glad when the finishing day came. It was punishing work for horses and hounds; the dust flying over the back of the latter, reminded one of the return from Epsom more than fox-hunting. We must now look forward to the next season, hoping that a better time is coming, Masters of hounds now usually take their holidays, and go away from home; but before doing so, the following may be a useful hint to those who only took office at the commencement of this season-viz., give strict orders to keepers, stoppers, &c., to keep a sharp look out after fox-catchers-suspect every idle, lurking fellow with a terrier. At this season of the year, numberless cubs are taken from the earths by a terrier trained to the work, who will enter the earth and bring the cubs out in his mouth, one by one, as gently as the old vixen would carry them; no disturbance is made at the mouth of the earth, and everything looks the same as usual for a time, till the truth at length is evident, from the fact of there being no cubs. Other pastimes and sports, suited to the summer months, must now take the place of fox-hunting; so wishing all the readers of maga who may partake of this sport health to assemble in the old greenwood next season, I must now conclude my paper, as some may exclaim"Claudite jam rivos, pueri: sat prata biberunt."

NOTES OF THE MONTH PAST.

"One of the worst seasons ever known," as Lord Fitzhardinge justly termed it the other day, in an address to his Cheltenham supporters, has, at any rate, finished with a very good wind-up in his lordship's own case. The occasion for this oratory was the presentation of a "splendid piece of plate, in testimony of the subscribers' appreciation of the noble lord's generosity in maintaining a pack of fox-hounds and noble stud for hunting the Berkeley and Cheltenham country." The work, designed by Mr. Cotterill, gives an appropriate incident from the records of the Berkeley family. His lordship appears to have acknowledged the compliment in a most varmint and sportsmanlike speech; though, not being furnished with a "true copy," we must rest content with an extract from the summary we have seen :

"Earl Fitzhardinge, having acknowledged the testimonial, entered into some remarks on the duties of a inaster of foxhounds, and traced his own ardent love of the chase to his perusal, when a boy, of Somerville's poem of "The Chase,' from which he quoted largely. He became master of hounds at 21 years of age. He had a liberal allowance, but not enough to keep two whippers-in, and therefore he became first whipper-in himself. But he had great difficulties to encounter. The first of these was want of experier ce; so that, in giving his health after dinner, his friends used to name it as The pack and the puppy.' Then his was not a regular pack of hounds. He was obliged to take what he could get the refuse of other kennels-those whose capital sentence had been commuted to transportation; so that he looked upon his kennel as a sort of penal settlement, to which the reprobates of all other packs guilty of serious offences had been draughted. He had mute hounds, and babblers, and shirkers, and hounds so slack that they would not hunt anything, and other hounds so wild that they would hunt everything. He was, however, not to be daunted, or his first essay might have put him down. His lordship then gave an amusing account of his first day's sport at Newent Woods, on the 24th of September, 1808, when his hounds, instead of fox-hunting, gave

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