There is a whiskey-shop (Anglice-a pot-house, Scottice-an inn) on either side of the above-named ferry, at which houses of public entertainment travellers and tourists are said to be provided with ample food and refreshing sleep, during the fine months of summer and autumn; in fact, till the equinoctial gales set in; and then they all set out for the south. Sportsmen are never unwisely particular: if they are so, far better remain at home, and shoot pheasants after luncheon. Food and lodging, such as it is, can therefore generally be found for them. As we have already said, however, night had closed over mountain, lake, and valley; and a pitch dark one was it ere we reached the ferry. The goblins of departed heroes might have risen from the Coe, and twitched us by the nose, without the slightest power of precaution on our parts, for all we saw or could have avoided, had it not been so disposed that we should be overtaken by a shepherd and his faithful collie dog-by-the-bye, one of the most sagacious and attached of the canine race, who had followed us with the same intention as ourselves, to cross the waters of the Leven without delay.

The time lost, however, in refusing the various endeavours which were made to detain our bodies and our siller on the south side of the loch (our fixed determination being to sleep on the north side); the boiling of a pint of water with which we desired to concoct a glass of toddy, to keep us inwardly, at least, free from the chilling effects of the cold night air and sea breezes which whistled up the glen; to rouse the ferrymen by threats and then by bribes, the latter far the more effectual; to induce them to leave their snug corners by the warm peat fire and soothing pipes, in the full enjoyment of which they were quietly seated-was at least two hours. They had not the most remote idea that any one not absolutely daft, with a will of their own and siller in their pouch, could leave a house of entertainment to cross a ferry during so dark a night, at all times unpleasant, and frequently dangerous; and this, as they positively declared, with a strong tide running and strong wind blowing, in the precise direction, of all the tides which flowed, and all the winds which blew, the worst and wildest. At length, however, Mammon decided the question, and we were fairly embarked

"O'er the dark waters of the deep blue sea ;"

the shepherd, his faithful collie, our beloved canine companions, Bran, Brenda, Nell, Rachael, and the rest of us.

A few small lights twinkled on the opposite shore; the wind moaned through the mountains; we heard the rushing of the tide beneath and around our frail bark; we smelt the smell of insufferably bad tobacco; but as for seeing one another, or aught else, such was not to be. Indeed we really began to think seriously we had been over-zealous in our persuasion, and over-liberal with our donations. But the shepherd took the matter so coolly, we determined to follow his example; and it happily proved that the very tide which was to carry us over to the island of Mull, and the very wind which was to prove so dangerous, as we had already surmised, proved in both cases the very best wind and the very best tide for the rapid crossing of the Ballahulish ferry from south to north. With no little satisfaction, therefore, we soon discovered that the twinkling lights we had seen in the distance were nothing more nor less than the tallow candles used by the inhabitants of that celebrated

locality. We lost no time even in abusing the boatmen, so rejoiced were we to find ourselves once more on terra firma, but proceeded at once to seek our quarters and rest, and what was equally desirable at the moment, something to eat; for we were well nigh famished. But it is a strange fact, though nevertheless a true one, that Highlanders either nourish themselves by stealth, or live on less than any other mortals under the sun. At these roadside inns, excepting in the tourist season, whiskey, oatmeal, and dried herrings, and these none of the best, is all the provision generally at hand. As regards the Lowlanders, in the summer they live on the hope of gain; in winter, as above described whereas the Highlanders substitute braccy for herrings.

We entered, as usual, into a smoky, dirty kitchen, too late to expect any reasonable comfort or consideration. A lazy, fat bare-footed girl half-dosed on a three-legged stool over a cauldron of potatoes, boiling for the pigs; and a lanky, red-haired, ill-looking fellow, probably her lover, lolled on a bench near the fire, smoking his short, black pipe, which he merely moved from his mouth on our entrance to give us a look of astonishment, and probably wishing us in Jericho for so untimely an intrusion on his tête-à-tête, resumed his puffing, in which occupation the ferrymen who had entered with us immediately joined him. Having received our promised reward, they were satisfied; and had any unfortunate traveller chanced to arrive with the same desire that we evinced to cross the ferry, the identical excuses would doubtless have been offered to his wish, though with somewhat more of truth.

We have to thank the Marquis of Carrabas that we went not supperless to bed that night. The hare was prepared and roasted; the remaining grouse split and broiled; we robbed the pigs of a few potatoes-and the disease had not then, luckily, made the best of vegetables uneatable and notwithstanding the toughness of puss, we managed to pass a very pleasant hour or two; and we had scarcely laid our head on the pillow ere the discomforts of the Ballahulish Hotel, the marquis and his deer forest, the fat gentleman, the Devil's Staircase, and the ferrymen, were forgotten.

We dreamt not of grouse or Highland mountains; yet of scenes not unlike, though more soft and genial. We saw the stag roused from his lair in the woods of North Devon, and we followed in pursuit o'er the hills and dales of Exmoor. Devon--scene of so many recollections of happiness unalloyed, of bitterness never-to-be-forgotten; Arcadia of pure streams and pastoral hills, rich vales, and softly genial climate; region of picturesque beauty, where spring first unfolds her mantle green ; Nature to thee has indeed been bountiful, and though many may smile at your sporting pretensions, we contend that, take the county in every sense of the word, and there are very few which offer more sport

"Are not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part

Of me and of my soul, as I of them?

Is not the love of these deep in my heart
With a pure passion?"

Yes the waters of the Leven ran calmly towards the sea; the bright sun glittered on the mountain tops; the dark yellow leaves of autumn still clung to tree and shrub, as if loth, by falling, to tell of summer past, undisturbed by the slightest breath of wind, as we walked forth after

the rest of night to look around us on a scene which hitherto had been hidden by utter darkness. The morning was one of those with which we are frequently gladdened during the latter days of October, which speaks forcibly of what the summer has been, what the winter may be bright, warm, and cheering in its sunshine; but clear, cold, and saddening in its shade; yet as unclouded as if it came to usher joy alone into this world of anxiety. Reader, bear with us a moment while we look on the beautiful scene before us; one not often sought, but yet unquestionably, if not more rare in natural beauty, equally so to almost any other spot in the Highlands, as offering a succession of varied and lovely landscapes. Among the singular-shaped mountains which rear their lofty summits as you stand on the south side of Ballahulish, that which most particularly attracts the eye is the Pap of Glencoe, a large conical mountain which overhangs the lake; the naked surfaces, abrupt declivities, and various colours of others, forming a most striking and interesting contrast to the green and woody slopes which border the shores of the Leven.

But we must dwell no longer on scenes like these, or we shall fail to reach the sporting locale whither we were bound, ere the castle-bell toll the hour of midnight; neither shall we attempt to say more in reference to the route we that day travelled o'er, save that few present more beautiful scenes, and few more abounding with interest alike for sportsman or tourist. We made our way as rapidly as a pair of ill-conditioned and ill-fed horses could drag a ramshackling old phaeton which we had hired at the ferry-house, arriving at Fort William ere mid-day, and at Fort Augustus in good time to reach Glenmoriston, four miles distant, ere the family dinner-hour. Most persons in the present day are well aware that Fort William and Fort Augustus-the one situated on Loch Eil, the other at the western extremity of Loch Ness--are two of the five Scottish forts retained by the terms of the union, though the latter is now garrisoned simply by a sergeant's guard, and the former by a subaltern's party detached from the regiment which, for the time, may be quartered at Glasgow or Fort George. We take this opportunity, therefore, to give a hint to the officers of such regiments, should there be sportsmen among them--and in what mess are there not many first-rate ones ?-to look out for this detachment. Their military duties they will doubtless find not to be very onerous, and their sporting propensities may be gratified to the utmost bent of their inclination. Let them only be prepared with a good double-barrel, a rifle, and fishing rods; for flies, powder, and shot, &c., they can obtain at Fort William, some good cigars, and tobacco, with a few books; and if they have only half the gentleman-like manners and habits which officers of the British army generally have, there is scarcely a day throughout the season that they may not obtain permission to shoot, fish, and even stalk deer, ad libitum. Some of the best salmon-fishing is close at hand, grouse hills surround them, and deer may be found within the distance of a two-hours' ride on a shelty. Well we recollect the time when we would have given a year's pay, had we been in the army, to have found ourselves thus located; and we doubt not but that, were all the subalterns now on detachment in Ireland told to hold up their hands for such a quarter in Scotland, the numerical uplifting would secure the Westminster election.

(To be continued.)

SPORTING LIFE FROM LONDON.

BY LORD WILLIAM LENNOX.

(Continued.)

Steeple-chasing-Fishing-Boating-Cricket-Larking at the Harrow Hunting

Grounds.

We now approach a most sporting event, namely, the celebrated steeple-chase for 1,000 sovs., play or pay, between Mr. Osbaldeston's br. g. Clasher and Captain Ross's Clinker, which took place on the 1st of December, 1829, in the neighbourhood of Melton Mowbray. The weights were 12 stone each; Clasher to be ridden by his sporting owner, and Clinker by the celebrated Dick Christian. In order to prevent any private trial, the starting and coming-in posts were only declared a few hours before the appointed time for meeting. The excitement created by this match baffles all description, it being looked upon as a struggle between two first-rate hunting countries-Leicestershire and Northamptonshire-of which the two horses were the respective champions. Clasher was well known in the Pytchley Hunt, and had come out of the crowd by winning the Welter Stakes at the previous hunt meeting. Clinker, formerly the property of the present Sir Francis Goodricke, was purchased by Captain Ross for 500 guineas, to run the great steeple-chase against the late Lord Kennedy for 2,000 guineas, and in which he proved successful. His prowess upon that as well as many other occasions in Leicestershire, and almost every sporting county in England, had gained him a very great name, and the Melton men were very sweet" upon him. At the hour fixed for the start, the principal parties, accompanied by their friends and troops of “ sporting gents," and without any unnecessary delay, went away at a killing pace. They kept abreast from the starting post over Burrow Lordship, Twyfleet, Marfleet Lordship, taking their leaps, many of which were awful raspers, with the greatest coolness and judgment; and up to the last fence which separated them from the winning field it was as even a race as possible. Here, unfortunately, the Captain's horse fell, and of course put Dick Christain hors de combat, while Clasher, taking this leap as fresh as a four-year-old, landed the squire safely in the Tilton field. Neither Clinker nor his gallant rider were hurt by the fall, and so ended one of the finest races of the sort that ever took place in this paragon of a hunting country. The distance run was five miles, which was done -as were all the backers of the Melton nag-in sixteen minutes.

66

The Captain being one of that class who "never say die," made another match with his successful antagonist, and which came off in Northamptonshire on the 5th of December. The terms were, Mr.

Osbaldeston's Pilot, 12 stone, against Captain Ross's Polecat, 13 stone 7lbs., owners on, four miles; the Squire staking 500 sovs. to 200 sovs.

The two horses had met the previous year in Leicestershire, in a steeplechase, even weights, and Pilot winning in a common canter. But to the present race. Half-past ten was named as the hour for starting, by which time a large party of noble sportsmen were assembled near the blue covert. When the signal was given, away went the flying coursers at a slapping pace across Harrington Field, by Louthland Wood, to the Armytage on the borders of Leicestershire. Pilot took the lead and kept it, and it was soon apparent to the Melton men that the Captain was done to a tinder. At the brook near Harrington, Polecat adopted the cold-water cure, and went right through instead of over it, and from this point the Pilot found that he had weathered the storm, and that all was as right as the mail--the mail, gentle readers, of other days; for, alas! a-well! alack-a-day! the mail population is at the present writing totally annihilated. But to the race, which was run in fourteen minutes, and won by the Squire. Nothing could exceed his riding, which was steady throughout, never throwing away a chance by getting elated at his easy victory. No one knows better than this lover of fieldsports that "there's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip," and a slight mistake, a flounder in a brook or a "topper" at an ox-fence, might have changed the places of the respective horses.

Within these last few years steeple-chasing appears to have greatly extended its influence, and almost every county can now boast of its annual meeting. Well do I remember the time when this amusement was so uncommon that the announcement of such an event about to come off attracted the notice of all the sporting characters of "Merrie England." Take, for instance, the celebrated Hertfordshire chaces in 1830; when Lord Ranelagh's Wonder, ridden by Captain, now Colonel, M'Douall, fully came up to his name, beating upon one occasion a large field of horses, and upon another two celebrated horses of that day jockied by Mr. Codrington and the Honourable Augustus Berkeley. Of the latter's riding it is of course useless to speak, notorious as he is for being one of the best horsemen of the age-possessing judgment, quickness, and nerves of adamant. What could exceed the excitement produced by these steeple-chases, especially upon the second grand Hertfordshire affair, in which Wonder, jockied by Captain Blane, was placed third; Mr. Caldecott's ch. m. and ch. h., the former ridden by Mr. Fiske and the latter by Captain Becher, taking the first and second posts of honour. The distance, about five miles, was done in twenty minutes-sharpish work, considering the heaviness of the ground and stiffness of the fences.

The mania for this sport has spread over the continent, and the late steeple-chase at Paris, to which we have slightly alluded, shows that the foreigners quite enter into the spirit of this break-neck work.

While upon this subject, we cannot refrain from giving publicity to a letter which has been addressed by Mr. Peel, the successful rider of Culverthorpe, to Mr. Bencraft, the spirited inventor of the patent elastic saddle, and which fully bears out the eulogiums of the sporting contributors to the Sporting Magazine, Sportsman, and Review.

"Paris, April 20th, 1846. "SIR,-I have great pleasure in stating to you that I rode Culverthorpe (the winner of the Great Paris Steeple-chase), yesterday, in one of your patent saddles, and willingly add my opinion to the numerous important and favourable ones already in