and Comus kept up the festivities until bright chanticleer with his sonorous pipe heralded the revellers to their roosts, not from them. Wednesday, November 13.-Sir W. Carew's hounds, Marleigh.Unkennelled from Coryndon Brake, and earthed in Bush Mead, after a most brilliant burst of thirty minutes, over a capital country to try the breed and speed of horses and hounds. Mr. Trelawny, on a Gainsborough nag; Mr. C. Bulteel, likewise with Gainsborough blood under him; and Mr. Scoble Willesford, were the three who were best placed. As for the hounds, they were all up together like a swarm of bees. Thursday, November 16.-Mr. Seales's hounds killed a fox at Fleet. Friday, November 17.-—Mr. Bulteel's hounds met at Slade. There was a very numerous Field of sportsmen out, but a frosty bad-seenting forenoon did not afford much sport, though we found three or four foxes. After this ride, there was another public dinner at Ivybridge, where wit and song, inspired by delicate viands and good wine, ushered in the morning of Saturday, November 18, when Sir W. Carew's hounds met at Bideford Bridge.-Unkennelled in Lee Brake, under the moor; went away over the moor like wildfire, through Coryndon, to Coryndon Vale, where it ended. Mr. Trelawny and Mr. Tonkin were the lads with them. Thus ended the Ivybridge Hunt, not with the sport anticipated. Monday, November 20.—Sir W. Carew's hounds unkennelled from Woolholes, and killed after a very excellent run. The same day, Mr. Phillipps's hounds met at Viverdon : found in the Newton coverts, and killed. Tuesday, November 21.-Mr. Bulteel's hounds met at Ivybridge. The morning was crossish, with storms of wind, rain, and glimpses of sunshine. The Captain and the huntsman rode like sailors on horseback, and so drew the coverts, and nearly galloped into a blank; however they did find at last, and then the scent soon walked us into a loss. -- Friday, November 24.-Mr. Bulteel's hounds met at Smithaleigh. The morning was mild and delightful. — Unkennelled in Laverton Wood, and killed near Yealmpton, eighteen minutes, as fast as nags could go; most blazing the scent, most brilliant the sport: all were pleased. A second fox from Ball's Wood, but the gossamers had spread their magic nets over the ground: the scent cooled, and the fox beat us, after two hours of various sorts of hunting. Tuesday, November 28.—Mr. Bulteel's hounds met at Radford, the morning very promising, and the scent good.-Earthed their first fox, after a good bit of fun, and fast enough too we went; dug for an hour; undermined the health of the hot horses, but did not undermine the fox: great is the fallacy of digging, and much destructive of sport. Earthed a second fox from Train Brake. Had a long run with the third fox, which, had it been in the light of day, would have been glorious. Two or three of us went with them until it was too dark to be pleasant night and the hounds can alone unfold the event. If we had not lost so much time in digging, day and ourselves would most probably have known what was what. Friday, December 1. Mr. Bulteel's hounds met at Newnham Park. A very brilliant lot of pinks on showy prads attended this favorite meet. The weather was very fine, but the scent was slow; so the hounds kept on, keeping on a hunting of the same fox all day, and I left them at half-past five o'clock, singing away in Fernhill Wood, whilst the huntsman, hight Thomas Limpetty, was piping to their song. There's a difference between hunting all day and all day hunting. Wednesday, December 6.-Mr. Bulteel's hounds met at Ivybridge. Unkennelled in a brake under the Brent Moors: the scent was so bad that the hounds could scarcely own it at first, but it got better, and it seemed as if the farther the hounds were from their game, the better they could hunt it, and we had a twisting gallop over the moors of three or four miles, when we got into the inclosures stained with sheep and other cattle. The go was very slow indeed; at last the scent was so bad that although the fox and the hounds were in the same field, they could not hunt him out of it. There was frost and ice upon the moors, and on Friday night there was a heavy fall of snow; and that being the case, we must pray for a speedy dissolution thereof. So no more at present from A BRUNECHeval. December 9, 1837. A FEW WORDS FROM QUARTOGENARIAN. As my father did not happen to be that man of whom it has been sung that he "had the happy knack Of cooking up an almananac," I have little to say on the conclusion of the Grouse Season, seeing that every man's name almost that was concerned has been bandied, right or wrong, through every possible public channel. It has been my hap, as an old, and now in all senses somewhat stale, Correspondent of yours, occasionally to hazard something in advance concerning these matters; and at least I believe this much may be said, that I have never laid myself open to coming under compromise. The only merit I claim, if such it can be called, is that I always kept within shot. Previous years have been no better than I felt it my duty to speak of them this turned out not only no worse than I ventured to predict, but in all ways consonant, and in no other instance more pointedly that in the late hatches on the mountain or hill tops. Here, as I premised, what birds were left hatched vigorously on the same principles as they do in the highest latitudes; and these late hatches arrived at maturity, and were fitter and finer for the bag than many of the earlier ones. The best grown young birds were found there in the commencement. In most instances, and in many very conspicuously, it has proved the best season for many years past. If any of your readers do me the favor to recollect, I have been as tedious as a thrice-told tale in warning my brethren of the trigger against the impositions and disappointments of taking hills; I did so honestly, because it was for a period of years too obvious, and, to a certain extent, must yet be guarded against. Whether disgust at the particularly bad season before last caused it in some sort, or the elections, or both, I know not; but some of the very best ranges in comfortably come-at-able parts were vacant this year. Taking the two circumstances into consideration-viz. the good hatch and the jubilee-I do not think I shall be accused, even on trial, of blinking my point, when I say that if seasons turn out only fairly next year, some of them will be well worth looking after. I had kept my usual notes of these matters, but on looking them over found they had been nearly all given, for better or worse, in the prints. But I could hear or see nothing about Captain Ross. Dining at a sporting friend's the other day, near Perth, I had the pleasure of meeting with that distinguished Professor, and found from his own frank, lucid conversation, that he had been imperializing it under the banners of his friend Prince Esterhazy, in Hungary. As Captain Ross signified that the Sporting World will not remain altogether uninformed of his proceedings, I can say no more than this. It was very natural that the yagers of that country and others should try him; they did, and his candour says, well; nevertheless, he beat them at all points of their own game, in every sense of the words. I have not forgotten the Swedish emigrants-the Capercailzie, or wood grouse, at Taymouth Castle-but it must be spring before I will hazard an opinion in this Work about them. A QUARTOGENARIAN. PORTRAIT OF "OLD PLUCK." Engraved by G. PATERSON from a Painting by F. C. TURNER. 66 66 STEEVENS, better known by the soubriquet of "Old Pluck," is as marked a character in Sussex as ould Will Norris was in Kent (for his Portrait see SPORTING MAGAZINE for February 1834)-both following the same vocation, and both phisogs by the same talented artist. Old Pluck has been for several years Earth-stopper to MajorGeneral Wyndham, of Sladeland, Sussex. The sketch was taken on his "viewing" sly Reynard from his gorse covert in Petworth Park on the last morning that the late venerable and lamented Earl of Egremont went out to see the find with the General's hounds. Tallyho! Tally-ho!" cried the ould one: 'gone away ! gone away! Then, addressing his favorite and constant companion Jack," at the same time restraining his unequivocal attempts to bolt, "Bide still, Jack; be quiet, will 'ee: it beant thy turn yet. Ah, sure, Jack's as sensible as a Christian: never tould a lie in his life: if he did, I'd hang him for it." Many gentlemen of the Hunt pass frequent jokes with the old man on "my dog and I," which are always taken in good part, and his replies are so quaint and "to the point," that the pair generally come off triumphant; and even if the laugh goes against him, his good-humored smile shews that he can "give and take." He is a general favorite; and both "man and dog" are pets with the worthy General in the capacity they fill, and are considered part and VOL. XVI.-SECOND SERIES.-No. 93. I i |