through bushes and between stones larger than himself, it is not so easy to hit him with a single ball as to knock down a revolving rabbit with an air-gun at a public garden. 66 Antelope, on the left," and a small deer, had to run the same fiery gauntlet, poor thing; and was speedily venison. I had been stationed at the top of the valley near Colonel Ormond, and the line of beaters soon swept past our post; after which, considering we had no chance of a shot at that cover, I walked up to where he was standing, and we sat down to a cigar and chat. After a while the poor jack was fusilladed, and I got up to see what was going on, leaving Colonel Ormond still seated and puffing; but before I had gone twenty yards I heard "Ba-bang!" behind me, and, turning round, saw the Colonel standing peering into the bushes, his gun smoking in his hand. "What is it?" I cried. "A pig, I think; at least it grunted, and so I shot it." We made our way through the bushes, and a pig sure enough it was ; a small one, true-but still one, and bleeding like one too. He was dead, but (or perhaps therefore) I cut his throat secundum artem for practice. We summoned friends and bearers. "How was it?" "I was sitting here expecting nothing, when I heard a grunt in a bush about twenty yards off; and on looking I saw something black, at which I let fly both barrels, each of which contained twenty slugs." And some people say there is no such thing as luck! Here was the man who was taking less pains than anyone else, who had a worse posi tion than anyone else, who was yet the only one in that, or any other pig party equally numerous I ever was in, who shot a pig all to himself without anyone else firing at it. No more large game making its appearance, we commenced shooting at the hares, which ever and anon came cantering up the hill-side as the beaters got towards the end of the cover, and two of them were hit, as well as an eagle who fell a victim to the spirit of investigation, which prompted him to come floating overhead. When one goes out for a day's shooting, one must fire at something; and what is the use of investing money in a rifle, to say nothing of spending a day in greasing patches and moulding conical bullets, if you are to return with your barrels as clean and shining as when you took them out of the case? Two shaggy mountaineers now rose out of the earth-for they appeared suddenly amongst us, without anyone noticing their approach, and if they had dropped from the sky we must have seen them falling, for there was not a cloud on the horizon-and offered, for a small quantity of powder, to show us the lair of a great boar. So we collected our forces together, and after another hour's walking, scrambling, hopping, and tumbling, arrived at a valley somewhat similar to the first, but of much greater length and width; so that when the cordon was drawn round it, the guns were placed at intervals of at least three hundred yards apart. The beaters had not been at work ten minutes before a great black beast, with a grizzly mane running along his back, crashed out of the bushes, and took the hill-side opposite to that on which I was stationed, keeping under a ridge which hid him from the view of those on the crest, who were thrown into a state of great confusion and perplexity by the shouts of "Pig on the left!" which were uttered by those on the right hill, to whom the grunter showed a fair mark enough; but the valley was full five hundred yards across, and the running fire we kept up only endangered the lives and limbs of our companions opposite, by the balls which glanced among them from the rocks in a most eccentric manner, without disconcerting piggy in any way. Presently, however, he came to the end of the protecting ridge, when he breasted the hill; and tearing up it at a surprising pace, gallantly charged young Poynter, whose station was just above the route he had chosen, and who levelled, fired, and hit him full in the chest, rolling him down the hill till a thick shrub arrested his progress. Here he got on his legs again, and shook himself, as if intending to show fight; but at the approach of Poynter, who tore frantically down the steep, waving his empty rifle, and shouting "My pig! my pig!" at the top of his voice, he began to make off again; but a long shot from Colonel Nimrod broke one of his legs, and he stopped in a hollow, where the dogs soon surrounded him ; but as he looked wicked, and made little digs at them with his tusks when they came too near, they contented themselves with barking and baying, and did not think it needful to come to the scratch. Four or five of us had now come up, but with empty guns; and Poynter, who had borrowed a knife, was about to attempt cutting his victim's throat on the instant, when Edwards, fearing for him the fate of Adonis, pulled him back, and drawing forth a bran-new Dean and Adams of the most improved and dodgiest description, proceeded to fire all six barrels at the boar's head, an operation to which he did not seem to have the slightest objection; and, indeed, we found the little bullets afterwards just under the skin, not one having penetrated the skull, proving thereby the justice of the popular expression "pig-headed.' In the meantime one or two of us had reloaded our guns, and the poor beast, transformed nearly into a pig of lead, was laid at length, which made the dogs and myself feel very plucky, for they grappled him with their teeth, and I stuck a knife into his throat. All the party were now assembled round the spot. Poynter was much patted on the back: the legs of the deceased were tied together, and the body then slung on a stout pole, and conveyed by four guardianos to the shores of the bay. By the time we had finished that cover it was mid-day, and having taken a good deal of exercise during the morning, we were hungry, while the sun undertook the task of making us thirsty with great success: so that a universal cry for luncheon was heard. Everybody had some description of viands in his pocket-everybody had a flask of brandy or sherry round his neck, but nobody had any water! Nor could we find any. So that after devouring much mustarded and cayenned sandwiches, and endeavouring to appease the consequent thirst with raw nips, some of us had a slight idea of the possibility of some people making a fuss about purling streams. I know, for my own part, I could not shut my eyes during that afternoon without seeing visions of shining pewters with glass bottoms: but Poynter felt neither hunger nor thirst, in his joy that he had killed a pig; nor could he help reverting to the subject. "There is my pig-look !—at the top of the mountain opposite. It must be precious heavy to carry; he was such an old fellow-and so fat! You see, the men have been obliged to sit down, they could not carry him further without a rest. Such a fine pig! I can see them quite plainly through my glass: the men are lighting a fire. What chilly chaps they are! Such a warm day!" Oh," said Tweed, "that is for the purpose of cooking some part of he inside of the pig, of which these fellows are very fond. They always tdo it, unless you tell them not. They lighten their burthen and get a dinner by one and the same operation; but then they eat what some consider the best part." At this revelation Poynter became very indignant. "What!" said he, " open my pig! cook and eat my inwards without my leave! Why it is downright theft, and I'll have the men tried by court martial.” "Cant, not under our jurisdiction." "I'll complain to the principal officer at the Health Office." "Who will promise anything you like, and do nothing." "Then, I'll lay the case before the Lord High Commissioner; these fellows cannot be allowed to cook other people's insides in this way." "The Lord High will refer you to the officer at the Health Office." "Then, I'll just take the law into my own hands, and horsewhip the rascals soundly." Poynter was of delicate frame and short stature, while the individuals who had excited his wrath were stout muscular fellows, armed with double-carbine rifles and bayonet-swords; so that the awe with which the words of this enraged young man inspired us was tempered by the hope that prudence might, on further consideration, appear to him the better part of valour. And so it turned out, for after a while he delivered his ultimatum. "By Jove, I will! Yes, I'll write to the Times !" We drew two or three other covers, and bagged another pig and several small deer (not rats), besides having the excitement of missing several head of game; and the Mediterranean was stained with the blood of the dying sun when we returned to the shores of the muchroaring sea. Those who had killed pigs or deer hung their victims up in the rigging of their yachts for the admiration of the less fortunate who crowded about in dingies; but soon the savoury smoke which rose on all sides straight up into the evening air recalled everyone to his own vessel, and the sounds of feasting startled the lonely bay. Nor was it till Diana turned on her pale gas for the benefit of her votaries that we weighed anchor and stole softly out into the open sea. Our particular yacht was among the first to move, and as we glided past a cutter, the anchor of which was not yet up, we heard the voice of expostulation, and recognised the tones of Poynter : "But don't you see, Colonel, it is too bad; the men had no right to my bowels!" "HERE'S SPORT INDEED!" BY LORD WILLIAM LENNOX. SHAKSPEARE. CHAPTER VI. Among the ancient Roman festivals we find, on the 5th of December, "Faunalia," in honour of Faunus; and, on the 17th," Saturnalia," the feast of Saturn, the most celebrated of the whole year, when all orders were devoted to mirth and feasting, friends sent presents to one another, and masters treated their slaves upon an equal footing, at first for one day, afterwards for three, and, by the order of Caligula and Claudius, for five days. Two days were added, called "Sigillaria," for small images, which then used to be sent as presents, especially by parents to their children. On the 23rd, "Laurentinalia," in honour of Laurentia Ance, the wife of Faustulus, and nurse of Romulus. From the foundation, then, of the above mighty empire up to the present day, the month of December is one devoted to pleasure. Soon will the Christmas carols be sung, soon will the night-wandering minstrels or "waits" be heard, soon shall we feel the warmth of the " yule log," and soon will its blaze shed brightness in our hearts, and pleasure in our homes. Although Nature is in a deep slumber, and verdure, foliage, and flowers have vanished for awhile, we have the holly and mistletoe to gladden us. If the atmosphere is gloomy and cold without, we can make merry and rejoice within; if frosts set in, let not feelings be congealed, but let us add to our own happiness by extending a helping hand to those upon whom adversity has fallen, thus rendering the phrase "A merry Christmas!" no longer a mockery to the needy and stricken. December, to the sportsman, has many charms, and is full of historical associations. On the 6th of the month, 1496, game laws were first enacted. On the 9th, grouse shooting ends, and these birds may range o'er mountain and heather free from the unerring aim of man. On the 15th, 1683, Izaak Walton, died at the age of ninety. The author of the Complete Angler," was, during the greater part of his life, a linendraper in London, and kept a shop in Fleet-street-(Peter Cunningham would probably point out the exact spot where the "cruel coxcomb" of Byron lived). He appears to have received a very ordinary education; but his love of reading, for which his temper and talents adapted him admirably, enabled him, even when engaged in business, to store his mind with a vast mass of information. Walton was the author of an interesting piece of biography, which was placed at the head of the first edition of Doctor Donne's sermons-the lives of Wotton, Hooker, George Herbert, and Bishop Sanderson, all of which were well received by the public, and still rank among the most esteemed standard works of our literature. In his latter days the patient "Piscator" published a poetical work of great merit, entitled "Thealma and Clearchus," purporting to be written by John Chalkhill, but it was generally supposed that the latter was a mere nomme de plume, and that Walton was the author. The "Complete Angler" is, however, the book which is best known to the "million," for its simple and natural style, the unaffected devotion of the writer to his subject, together with its fresh and touching pictures of rural enjoyments, give it many charms even to those who do not indulge in the sport to which it is more particularly devoted. The 26th is the festival of St. Stephen, upon which day our ancestors were wont to call in the horse-leech to phlebotomize the equine race; for Tusser, in his "Five Hundred Points of Husbandry," writes: "Yer Christmas be passed, let horses be lett blood, If that do mislike thee, some other day chuse." The "out-door games," the "indoor amusements," of chill December are, then, not only numerous, but are suitable to every class, and to every age. Commence we with "the whining schoolboy," who, at home for the holidays, turns his satchel into a game-bag, and with the gardener's rusty fowling-piece makes sad havoc among the pigeons and small birds; next, the lover, who for a few hours ceases to" sigh like a furnace," and to make "woeful ballads on his mistress's eyebrow," while he takes part in a battue; then, the soldier, "seeking the bubble reputation," " not" in the cannon's mouth," but from the muzzle of a well-poised "Westley Richards';" then the justice, "in fair round belly, with good capon lined," scatters his "wise saws and modern instances" to the wind as he brings down a couple of woodcocks for his afternoon's meal; next, "the sixth age-the lean and slippered pantaloon," who may still be seen enjoying a day's sport from his strong cob, either in the huntingfield or through the well-stocked coverts; even in the "last scene of all," there are to be found men who, having passed four-score years, are yet hale and hearty enough to vie with younger blood in a day after the "brilliant pheasant" or "nut-brown partridge," and certainly, to judge of their prowess, their memory, the gusto with which they enjoy their bread-and-cheese lunch, their quick eye when a rabbit crosses their path, their relish for a glass of home-brewed October ale, and their pleasure in the sport, we cannot sum up their characters in the words of the immortal Shakspeare, as in a state of-" mere oblivion, sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything." Nor are our fair countrywomen debarred from the gratification of "out-door amusements." The young and blooming school girl, emancipated from the thraldom of some antiquated maiden lady at Minerva House Academy, can enjoy the pleasure of sledging on the ice, drawn by her brother or cousin; the "bread-and-butter" miss, still in her teens, may join the al fresco lunch of "papa's" shooting party; nay, she may attend at the covert's side, and like the Thracian huntress Harpalycè join in the chase; the more matured matron may don the Bloomer costume, and armed with a light single-barrelled gun, shew her prowess among the feathered tribe; and a party of maids, wives, or widows may attend the "coffee-house" part of hunting, at the appointed meet, to discuss the merits or demerits of the Nimrods, to repeat the newest gossip, to hint at the unfortunate separation in high life, to give a list of approaching marriages, to propagate the latest scandal, to talk over the bachelors' fancy ball looming in the distance, and to criticize |