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ances The Victor," vid Glasgow and Perth, the grey mists settled down on the mountains, and as the shades of evening closed around us, we were set down at The Star hotel in the "fair city" of St. John (Perth). Having domiciled in the "fair city," and in all comfort for the night, on Saturday, the 27th, we were up with the lark, and by 7 A.M. were safely seated on the first morning coach that leaves Perth for Lindores; and as the latter place was the FIXTURE for the "Fife hounds" on this eventful day, you see we came it rather strong in sporting a conveyance (public) and FOUR to the meet. Our "Jehu" was a brother of Mr. RICHARD CRUICKSHANKS, one of the most spirited coach proprietors in "merry Scotland"-and a merry and funny old file we found him. Our journey was made pleasant by the many anecdotes told to us by this merry little knight of the whip, and the NAGS were often reminded on our journey to Lindores that they must go a little faster (by-the-bye, I should observe that the said coach runs to Lindores to catch the mail-train on the Edinburgh and Northern railway). In this form "Coachee" would every now and then address his team : 66 Come, Jamie" (meaning one of the nags), " a little faster, my man; we will be too late for puffing Willie' this morning" (meaning the train). Then, in another minute or two it would be "Come, Mary, my bonny lassie" (addressing himself to one of the leaders)," a wee bit gallop, if ye please; puffing Willie' is sure to be waiting on us, and do ye no ken that there is a foxhunter on the box this morning? And you, Jenny, just let the gentleman see that you can use your legs wi' the best of them. That's it, Jenny; De'il tak' me, but ye wad do to follow the hounds after a'." In this merry mood we arrived at the small village of Lindores; and where we parted with our friend Mr. Cruickshanks. Being now left to our own solitary musings, and having an hour to spare previous to the time of the fixture (half-past 10), we poked our nose into a "cobbler's shop," thinking that " Crispin" would be able to give us some information anent the hounds; as we were an entire stranger in those parts. Nor were we disappointed.

"Good morning, Mr. Crispin; good morning, sir. Do you know where the hounds meet when they come to Lindores ?"

"Yes, I can easily tell you that. They meet at my door."

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"And where do they draw' for a fox! Are there any good coverts in this neighbourhood; and are there any foxes?"

"Oh yes, sir, there are plenty of foxes; and if the 'mist' would clear away, I could show you as pretty a covert as you ever set eyes on; and just on the face of the hill, and within three hundred yards of the back of the house and what is more, I have every reason to believe that there is a good fox in it this very morning, as I saw him last night in the gloamin', and I am sure that he has not been disturbed since then."

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My next inquiry of this "cobbler king" was-" Well, old fellow; is there a public-house in your village?"

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Yes, sir."

And it was soon pointed out to me; and thither I bent my boots. This pot-house is kept by a Mrs. and Mr. Rollo. The good dame, as I was told by her lord, was confined to bed with "influenza ;" and as I requested from him a cup of tea he was rather taken aback. A cup of whisky could have been most easily procured, but I required none of him.

"Tea, tea," muttered the old fellow, "I am no sure if there is any in the house; but I will gang ben the house and see what the gude wife says on the subject.'

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And as soon as I had got rid of the old gent, I had a regular survey of the interior of the kitchen, and soon found the implements for a cup of tea; and on the return of the old man I demanded a clean towel from him.

His remark was—“ Do you want to wash your face? and if so, I am sure it does not want it, as it is as clean as a new pin."

"Never mind, old fellow, find me a clean towel; and I will show you what purpose I want it for." This done, I spread the clean cloth on his little dirty table; and having infused a pretty strong cup of the Chinaman's beverage, sat down, and made a pretty fair breakfast. This done, I sallied out, and found that my friend Merry John (Walker), with eighteen couple of his darlings, had just arrived at the door of the "cobbler;" and in another minute I was beside him, and after a most friendly greeting between us (being old and sworn friends) I made inquiry after what sport they were having this season, and was answered by at least a dozen of honest sportsmen, that they never had had a better season-" Plenty of foxes, and never saw our hounds and huntsman in better trim. But where is there a better man in field or kennel than John Walker? There may be many a clever huntsman in this snug little island of ours; but I am sure that there is no better man in his profession than merry little John' who hunts the Fife country!"

After waiting till nearly 11 (by this time the fog had left the mountain-side, and we then caught a glimpse of the cobbler's covert, called "Kinnaird Hill," lying on the south side of the hill that overlooks the village of Lindores), a well-mounted field was ready for the foray, among whom we recognized many old friends : -The master, Mr. White Melville; Lord Ogilvie, son of the Earl of Airlie, a very promising young man in the field, and a good horseman; his brother-in-law, Captain Rait, of Aritson, one of the quickest and best men with hounds I ever saw in the " pig-skin;" Mr. Balfour, of Balbirnie, and his brother; Mr. Wolf Murray and his brother, Captain Murray; Mr. Wedderburn; Mr. Bethune; Mr. Gilespie; and many others, too numerous to name. By-the-bye, I should not forget to mention a "Mr. Jones" from England, a good sportsman and kindhearted fellow; he has a good stud of horses, and hunts regularly with the "Fife." This gentleman has seen a good deal of hunting in the South, and can go the pace with the best; but, he remarked to me, he had never seen any pack that could come up to " Merry John's" in all his travels. What do ye say to this, ye men of Warwickshire, the Quorn, and Northamptonshire?

But we must on to Kinnaird Hill, where the hounds and their clever huntsman had not been many minutes when the cheerful notes of Bonnylass, Baroness, and Baronet were heard; every face beamed with joy, and every lip whispered "a find." The greater part of the field were on the south side of the wood; but we quickly moved through the middle of the planting by a narrow ride, or wood-road, and just as we emerged in a body at the north side of the covert, we beheld the noble pack in full chorus: threading the gorse to the left, a dozen voices asked of the few who had taken up their stand at this side of the covert

if he had " gone away;" but no one could tell of his whereabouts. In another moment the hounds had gained the outside of the gorse, and by themselves made a most glorious cast, and hit him off in grand style over the grass pastures, and away we went over the open, and pointing in a direct line for the Oay. But Reynard was headed by a large flock of sheep, and had bent to the right; and, after some admirable casts by the huntsman to recover their game, we gave him up as lost. I should observe, on this side of the country the ground was very hard, with a sharp frost that had set in after daylight on the morning of this day; and the powers of "old Sol" to dispel it had not had the effect by 11 A.M.

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Walker returned to Kinnaird Hill, drew it again carefully, in hopes to find his friend had returned, but he was "non est ;" and as the day was young, we moved across the valley, and bent our way to a most beautiful covert on the top of the hill, about a mile to the south of Lindores. The hounds were no sooner into the gorse than their gay notes broke with cheerful cadence on our car; and after a short ring in covert, Reynard soon found his morning's quarters too hot to hold him, and he quickly broke away at the south side of the covert, and in full view of Merry John." His merry cheer soon put his darlings on his line, and we sunk the vale at a most killing pace; Captain Rait leading the van, and on over the open pastures like a flash of lightning, without one moment's time to tarry-no check, no nothing; but on like the wind to Rossie Den, a large open wood on the opposite side of the vale. Here we fancied that "bold Reynard" would take some little time to tarry; but on-on, like a flight of blue rocks, was the order of the day; and although we got on to a friendly ride in this large wood, and went best pace through it, we were barely in time, on emerging at the far end of the wood, to catch a glimpse of the hounds going at a most fearful pace over the open, and fully half a mile ahead of us, and not a soul with them. However, each good man and true was doing all that in him lay to catch them; and, in another minute, I observed Captain Rait, Lord Ogilvie, Mr. White Melville, Mr. Jones, and "Merry John," sailing away to my right. On, on we went, crossed the Edinburgh road and over a beautiful country, and ran him to ground in a grass field, within a field of Mr. Skein's property at Pitfour. The latter place had evidently been his point; but had it not been for this friendly drain, we much doubt whether he could ever have reached it. A few minutes would have brought this gallant fox to book; but he was too good to be sacrificed; and, as the worthy master remarked, "We are full of blood, and will save this noble fellow for another occasion." Time-and without a single check— 32 minutes; and any one who will take a look at the map of the little kingdom of Fife will have a pretty good guess of the distance from Lindores to Pitfour, and done in 32 minutes. Every face beamed with joy; and we fancied that "Merry John" would rest content for the day; but he trotted though Auchtermuchty; and after jogging for other four or five miles on the way to Cupar, turned to the left and drew a beautiful covert at 3 P.M. (we forget the name of it), and can't say we were sorry to see him disappointed; for, to tell the truth, by this time we began to long for some of the creature comforts, and which we knew were awaiting us at the "gude auld town o' Cupar," and where we arrived at 5 r.. Here we remained over the Sunday and Monday, and en

joyed ourself "right merrilie"--had a regular inspection of Walker's stud, both in hounds and horses; the former comprising 36 couple of hunting hounds, and his one-season hunters (I mean his late year's entry) are as good as gold: one may travel a long journey before he sets eyes on bitches like Beauty, Brevity, and Bellmaid-all sisters, and by Lord Yarborough's Dreadnought, and out of Mr. Russell's Butterfly. Another litter was Blucher, Bellman, Bluecap, Bonny-lass and Blameless, by their own old Auditor, and out of their Buxom. Yes, it would make any man proud to have such beauties in his kennel: and the way they can fly over a country, and carry a head and scent, are beyond anything that has come under my ken in my day. If any of my bro her sportsmen in the south has any doubts on this subject, let him de, patch a brace of nags to the "gude auld town o' Cupar," where he will find comfortable quarters, both for biped and quadrupeds, at M'Nab's hotel; and we can assure him that he will find a first-rate pack of hounds, a good country, a most clever huntsman to show him sport, and some good men and true to pick up acquaintance with, and none more worthy than the master of the hounds. After a thorough inspection of the kennel we found our way to the stables, and saw some 12 or 14 good nags, many of them purchased at long figures, as Walker does not stick at a good price when he finds the material to suit him. And where, we will ask, can be found a more perfect specimen of what a hunter should be than his horse Nimrod is ?-all but thorough-bred, and as strong of bone as a cart-horse; as quiet as a lamb, and a most beautiful animal in every way: a child may ride him. All the others are good, and have been selected with great care; but we shall not tarry here to particularize them, but hasten on to the end of our paper at the best pace possible, and have done with it; for I can assure you, kind reader, that it is no mean task to ride the 'old grey goose" thus far. Monday, 29th.-As we strolled through Cupar, old Daddy Frost had put his iron foot on the ground, and we fancied we were in for a ten days' frost at least; and at 11 P.M., when we went to our kennel for the night, it was freezing quite hard; but behold our pleasure on the morrow to hear the "soft breeze whistling," and grey clouds crossing the pale face of the moon. At 6 A.M. "Merry John" popped into our bed-room, with a “ Come, my lad, get up; breakfast is ready waiting. The morning is everything like hunting. A man has come from the top of the hills, and says that the thaw there is most rapid. Get up; we have 20 miles to go to covert; so we must be on the move carly." After this sermon, who could indulge in blanket-bay? So we were soon ready for the fray. This day the meet was at Dron, in their Perthshire country. There we arrived with the hounds, after a long ride, at 11 A.M.; and after remaining with them, and seeing a whole world of country drawn blank, we left them in the Edinburgh-road, got on to the Aberdeen mail, which set us down in the "fair city" (Perth), and the same evening found our way to the "banks of the Pow."

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B.

P.S. Since my return the "Fife" has had some most brilliant sport. On Tuesday, the 7th inst., they had a most brilliant day: 16 miles in one hour and fifteen minutes, and over the cream of their country.

Banks of the Pow, 16th Dec., 1847.

LITERATURE AND FINE ARTS.

HAWBUCK GRANGE; OR, THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF THOMAS SCOTT, Esq. By the author of "Handley Cross; or, the Spa Hunt." With eight illustrations by Phiz. London: printed for Messrs. Longman and Co., 1847.-This is an old acquaintance under a new name. The volume before us is made up of a series of papers which appeared in a weekly journal some months ago. The writer is a gentleman remarkable for eccentricity of style, and other peculiarities of composition. Mr. Scott, the hero, is a fox-hunting John Bull-according to the conventional reading of the indigenous yeoman, prone to field-sports. The other characters are designated by their proper names. Thus, Muff and Tinhead, and Bletheremskite, and Lord Lionel Lazytongs, and Hobblehot, and Parson Goodman; the towns, Scrapetin and Skinflint, and so forth. The illustrations are very clever. "Hawbuck Grange" is a lovely rural homestead; and Lord Lionel Lazytongs, discoursing on hare hunting, a gem. The work is very prettily got up, bound in scarlet, and all as ship-shape as if going to a meet at Bunny or the Rams Head.

ROYAL YACHT SQUADRON SCHOONER, KESTREL; From an original drawing by Mr. Thomas T. Robins. London: Fores, 41, Piccadilly.This is a coloured lithograph, after one of the first of our water-colour artists in the nautical line. The vessel was the property of the late Lord Yarborough, the universally popular commodore of the R.Y.S. She was a model of her class, and in all that related to her purpose facta ad un диет. The painter has drawn her as getting under way in Cowes Roads, abreast of the Squadron House. Around are scattered the Pearl, the Camilla, the Xarifa, the Flirt, and some lesser craft-from their distinguishing colours belonging to the Royal Thames Yacht Club. The group is singularly characteristic, and forms a very elegant sporting marine picture. It is brought out with all care and finish, for which all the works produced by the Messrs. Fores are so remarkable, and is destined to a place in the most honoured nook of many a yachts-man.

PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS OF THE METROPOLIS.

"O, here's to the holly,

That kills melancholy,

And makes the bard merry at festive time;

When old English cheer

Awakes the new year,

And bells at midnight chime."

Forty-eight opens with the star of Momus in the ascendant. In the contest between mirth and melancholy, the gentleman of rollicking notoriety beats his sour-visaged antagonist all to incomprehensible atomry. The

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