instances have been greatly improved, during the last three or four years, save these weight-for-worth races. They are the enfans trouvés of the turf: nobody knows where they come from, who is responsible for them, their breed, seed, or generation. This was a matter perhaps of no great account, so long as the foundlings were destined to abide in the obscurity wherein they were produced. But the affair is now changed altogether. Your handicap ranks in the highest order of modern chivalry. The public interest is little less in the Chester Cup than in the imperious Derby itself. Surely the one should not monopolize all the talent of the British turf in the science displayed in bringing its fields to the post, and the latter be committed to such chance-medley of economy as may come of the humour or skill of those Medes and Persians by whom its penalties are decreed. The interests of racing call for an immediate reform in this mysterious despotism. Even the Royal Plate articles have been remodelled. With so much more need of revision, let us not doubt that something will speedily be done to make the handicap a contrivance in every way more worthy its position in the British turf.

I ought to be "quite the lady" to write any account of hunting for the past month; for ladies only write well about nothing. That one may expect frost in January is undoubtedly the fact; but to have one's expectations fulfilled after such a December as last year's is more than painful. The most extraordinary part of this frost has been its extreme partiality:

"Coelum non aninum mutant qui trans mare currunt."

But without going to another country, nay scarcely crossing the boundary of their own county, men have ridden under a cloudy sky, at the tail of the Warwickshire or Mr. Lowndes' hounds, whilst the Pytchley have been unable to get out of kennel. This is rarely the case in any season, and in a hard frost we have usually the selfish satisfaction of knowing that our brother sportsmen are as badly off as ourselves. This is the more provoking as the county has been singularly fortunate in attracting an unusual crowd of sportsmen, as the stabling at Watford, Brixworth, Weedon, and other places will shew. The latter place, not generally used as a hunting quarter, has now about a

dozen horses standing there; and I should think its great facility as regards the rail, and its proximity to the Pytchley and Lord Southampton, with about three days a fortnight with Mr. Drake and the Warwickshire, would make it a desirable locality, It is a great pleasure to all old Oxonians to have an opportunity of seeing Mr. Drake occasionally this we get at Byfield toll-bar, or Trafford-bridge: if you knew him, you would fully enter into the feeling which looks with a species of reverential affection upon a master of fox-hounds who was never known to utter an unkind or ungentlemanly word to the most unruly member of an unruly field of youngsters. Add to this that many an one enters upon his noviciate as a sportsman under the eye of Mr. Drake; and when the time is gone by for looking forward, think of the pleasures of memory, and the gratification with which we shall look back to our earliest appearance in the field. I should think there is no one in England in the same position, with anticipation of whose presence so many young hearts have beat, or to whom so many look back with grateful recollection as to Mr. Drake.

But all this time you complain that I give no account of our doings down here I might ask "what doings?" but as you have been sojourning under a more genial atmosphere, and getting an average quantity of sport, I may repress my surprise at your demand for news. This week is prolific of snow; the sugar remains on the cake as if school-boys had not condescended to scrape it. George Payne cannot get out at least on this side of his country; whilst the Warwickshire have just had a most capital run from Bilton Grange, near Dunchurch. The difficulty is getting your horse to cover. We feel like a garrison in a state of blockade-a rich and fertile champagne beyond our barren walls, if we could but get through the enemy's lines.

I think my last letter ended the account of the last month's meagre sport in a hard frost. The satisfaction of looking at the moon, and blessing our stars, continued to us until Tuesday the 5th of January, when a perceptible impression was made on the ground by the heel of a boot, and towards the afternoon the thaw was so undeniable that jackboots became necessary in our Northamptonshire roads. On the morning of Wednesday, the 6th, the road to Lilburne was as soft as it had hitherto been hard; and (as it proved) it was no bad thing that the softness of the road had communicated itself to the fields-the tumbles were neither few nor far between. When I got to the village of Lilburne, which lies on the right of the road from Daventry to Lutterworth, there could not have been fewer than from two to three hundred. The horses looked fresher than the men, after so long a rest; and boots, guiltless of mud for many a day, were already nearly invisible. Of strangers we had an abundance, as the meet lies conveniently for Leicestershire and Warwickshire both counties on this occasion contributed more than a sprinkling. When a sufficient crowd of very good, bad, and indifferent, had assembled-a crowd indeed sufficient to make hard riding necessary to see sport, and any other sort of riding as unprofitable as it was dangerous-off we trotted for Lilburne gorse. The cover is beautifully situated on the slope of a hill, bounded on the bottom, towards the village of Catthorpe, by a good wide brook, with an accommodating ford; on the top, by a hovel, a thick bullfinch, and a very deep and dirty cartroad. Lilburne is a sure find, and as the hounds were thrown into

cover there was less noise, and a determination to stick to them visible on the faces of many, which was quite refreshing. Scarcely a moment had elapsed before a fox was found, and away he went at the lower end of the gorse; instead of crossing the water, he came up the hill through a grass field, running parallel with the before-mentioned dirty cart-road. Lord Cardigan is not easily frightened, but he evidently had no fancy for the crowd; so with some twenty more, he followed the hounds through the cover and up the grass field, out of which Mr. Dallas of the 11th Hussars landed first into the lane: the lane was soon full, and there was a momentary check; but Mr. Payne opened the gate as half the field turned up the road, and let in the hounds. Away we went at a racing pace; there was no time to count noses. Mr. Payne with his servants, Lords Cardigan, Henley, Aberdour, Wodehouse, Ogilvie, Mr. F. Villiers, Newdigate, Captains Dawson, Dallas, Pettit, Messrs. Knightly, Gage, P, P. Rolt, Vyse, Parker, with several others, were in good places up to the Lutterworth road, parallel to which the hounds ran after crossing it, followed by a young farmer of the name of Cooke, I believe, on a little chesnut horse, with one other person in close attendance. A clear road is a tempting thing, with hounds running alongside of it; and after a long frost, the field availed themselves of it, as they imagined with great judgment. They enjoyed this safe method of riding to hounds for about two hundred yards, when pug turned suddenly to the right, and went straight as an arrow for Hillmorton gorse. "Over the fence," said Mr. Newdigate, pulling vigorously at his horse in the crowd; and over he went at the same time, with half-a-dozen more who had luckily seen the turn. From this point up to near the village of Hillmorton we literally raced. The ditches were full of water, the fields hock deep, and, as I afterwards learnt, the number of horses out at exercise without riders perfectly astounding. What became of the roadsters I do not know-following to catch hounds at that pace is useless, and I believe they contented themselves with the mud till the fox, headed at Hillmorton, turned to them, and crossing the road again, went up to Crick. At this place the first check occurred; we had been literally racing for 22 minutes, and it told a severe tale with horses short of work. This was the run from that time we had slow hunting back towards Lilburne, crossing the Lutterworth road a third time, over the brook by a half-finished bridge to Coton. The bridge was an awful-looking affair, and would have been considered rather a good pass by one of the mules at the "Mer-de-glace." However, most people got over it safely by leading, and after bringing back his fox from Coton, Mr. Payne killed him in the corner of a field between the villages of Clifton and Newton. The country run over is very fine, and the first 22 minutes brilliant: though it is remarkable that in 1 hour and 25 minutes we were never more than 4 miles from where we found. The horses were quite satisfied, so we went home.

Friday, the weather still open, saw a smaller field at Foxall; but every day cannot be like the other-so that moderate sport kept the mental energies of the Northamptonshire men wavering between the retrospective pleasures of Lilburne, and the more invigorating prospective ones of Spratton Bridge for Saturday.

Patience is a virtue, and as such should be rewarded: it was so--for a fox from Cank cover rivalled his friend from Lilburne, and was killed after 1 hour and 35 minutes. I unfortunately missed it; but the most

authentic accounts give it as fast, at first, as on Wednesday, and straighter the casualties no fewer, and I regret to say, a good horse ruined.

Having gone on thus far swimmingly as regarded the weather-up to our hocks in mud and water-we were destined to a still severer damper. On Monday morning the earth was bound in "icy fetters." Everything was as dry as a bone. The infatuation which led some 20 zealots to go to Fawsley in search of the hounds extended to me; and I there found that Lord Southampton had kindly sent over a whip to say that the hounds could not come out of kennel, but would on the morrow, if possible. The morrow never came : to the 25th not a pair of leathers had seen daylight in this neighbourhood; old "pinks" were at a discount; good cover hacks were going to be given away, when we once more found ourselves at Dodford Holt. Mr. Payne was not out, but it is due to his servant Payne, late of the Oakley, to say that he did all he could on a cold scenting day to shew sport. The first fox was run into in about 5 minutes on the other side of Dodford brook.

"Some got in, some got over, and the rest they stay'd away."

The fox was a bad one, ran up-wind with the hounds close at him, and with two bad winds against him, his own and heaven's, fell a victim to his stupidity. In the afternoon we had some very pretty hunting from Brockhall, through Mr. Bevan's place to Nobottle, and on to Althorp, where we ran into-I was going to say "him"-but that would have led you into an error, for foxes were as plentiful as holly berries, and we satisfied ourselves with any one we could get.

On Wednesday the 26th I went to Foxley: Lord Southampton's hounds were looking in most perfect condition, and the bitch pack is said to be still better. He was there himself, with Lord Henry Fitzroy, Lord Aberdour, Mr. Knightley, Col. Hutchinson, Mr. Bevan, and though not a very large, a very sporting-looking field. I am sure you agree with me, that in counties like these, where men will ride, and without intending to do harm or exhibit jealously, will be first, if they can, the smaller the field the better. In all countries hounds on a good scent will eventually run away from men. From most fields in a country like this hounds would go at once; but here there are so many determined to have a start, that hounds are not allowed to settle unless they can manage it for themselves. Mr. Payne has seen a hundred men ride straight after the fox from Dodford Holt before a hound was out of cover: this is not because they are less of sportsmen, and do not know better; but because there is a certain anxiety to get a good place, a sort of jealousy inherent in hard riders, which looks upon a good start as the first blow in a row with a coal-heaver, half the battle in fact; there is a little too much regard for self, a little thoughtlessness for the sport of their friends, and (could they see it in that light) for their own. The scene, by the way, is very funny sometimes, and the mimic battle of life goes on at the cover side. "Now, Sir, do hold hard; let the hounds (speaker moves gradually on into the place of the other). "Oh don't go on, Tomkins," says a second; " you'll have him back in a minute" (all this time the speaker gets rather beyond Tomkins), "Now then! hold hard, can't ye? do let the hounds come." A hound or two

comes through the hedge-row, and challenges-this is enough; for the whole field, before only jealous of one another, appear now to have directed all their energies against the hounds; and away they go right over the scent, leaving the pack to thread their way through the crowd as they best can.

But to return to Lord Southampton; and it is a pity we left so good a sportsman, to go in quest of smaller game. We found in a small cover close to Grubb's Coppice, ran through Astcote Thorns, where two foxes were on foot, and straight over the heavy ploughs towards Gayton and Bugbrook; here we were obliged to give him up. We then tried Grimscot Heath. The hounds were scarcely in cover before a fox went away. Once round a large field, straight through the cover again, and on to Rodmore, with Lords Southampton, Henry Fitzroy, and Aberdour, with three others, close in attendance; the whole field having gone down to the left. At Rodmore came a check, and the rest of the field. Below this we crossed the brook; on to Stow, where, instead of going into the wood, pug was headed back by some coursers, and returned by the same road he had come. Though we were not so fortunate as to kill either of our foxes, it was a good day's sport; and his lordship may congratulate himself upon the pleasure of riding with as sportsmanlike a set of men as ever crossed horses. The members of his own family are first-rate: Lord Aberdour, as hard as nails, but as fair and sportsmanlike as can be: he is now at Gayton, I believe. The cattle in Lord Southampton's stud are magnificent; and I have already recorded an humble vote in favour of his hounds with so much plough to contend against, they do wonders. They had a splendid run the same day that Mr. Payne was at Spratton; nearly killing three different foxes, as they were afterwards viewed all but beat.

"

On Saturday, again, we had a frost; but, as it began to give a little about eleven o'clock, I went on to Mr. Lovell's, at Winwick warren. Here was again a large field; but, as the frost was still on the ground, we took shelter at Mr. Lovell's hospitable table. About twelve Mr. Payne came in for a warm, after his cold drive. Here we heard of the capital sport he had had from Harrowden on the Wednesday before, killing a fox that had stood before them in a wonderful manner over the Holdenby country, quite at the beginning of the season. He had had his chance, and Mr. Payne thinks one quite enough. The weather was sadly against us this day; so we satisfied ourselves with running into a "dodger" at the foot of Hempton Hills (memorable as the very spot in which the Warwickshire killed a Hillmoreton fox two years ago), and having taken another from Yelvertoft field side to a mile beyond Cottisbrook, we left him to give us another chance on a better scenting day.

Monday, the 1st of February, was a frost, with a fall of snow, which confined itself accommodatingly to the Midland Counties.-I fancy I see you now, reading this letter and exclaiming against its stupidity. But let me ask you, my dear fellow, Who tied me down to this exclusive description of sport? You think my letters censorious-do you really?-and that anything like that is a bad feeling to encourage. Granted: but is it so? I write a plain matter of fact: the circumstances of a run, or any number of runs. I take especial care to have seen them, or, if I notice one at which I have not assisted, as the French say, I am so particular in my sources of information, that I cannot be mistaken.