Mr. EDITOR, Foxhunting in the south of France is not yet, I am happy to assure you, one of those things that have been. After an interregnum of two years (the result of lukewarmness on the part of our countrymen here) it was revived last autumn by our lastmaster," Mr. J. Livingstone, an American enthusiast of the glorious sport. In the autumn of '48, finding, on application to former subscribers, that not one farthing would be forthcoming to aid in carrying "the war into Denmark," and discouraged by the certainty of having no "field" to partake with him of this peculiarly social sport, he determined to sell or give away his little pack. A French friend, Comte Lionel de Chabrillan, accepted them; and they were consequently despatched in the aforesaid autumn of '48 on their long journey of 140 leagues to the north, for the purpose of hunting wild boar and fallow deer in the extensive Forest of Chateauroux. This is a species of chase (sport I cannot call it) which may suit Frenchmen, or which may be accepted as a "pis aller" where nothing better can be obtained; but, for me, I confess, it possesses no charms, and excites within me none of that enthusiasm which I experience in the chase of the fox over this rough wild country. I do not deny the superior scicnee of the French modus operandi; I am not so prejudiced, either, as not to acknowledge) with a keen sense of admiration) the wonderful and almost-Indian sagacity displayed by their huntsmen in tracking their wild game to its lair; nor am I in

sensible to the charms of the mere "spectacle" of the mise en scene, nor deaf to the exhilarating and exciting effect of the resounding "fanfares" which serve to indicate to the well-schooled ear of the "field" the different phases of the chase. But I infinitely prefer a run in the open. I like to see hounds work, to follow them, to have the excitement of fencing, to gallop over fields, and not to be " cabined, eribbed, confined'' within the narrow limits of a muddy, stony, rutty lane in a dense forest. To be brief, French hunting excites no enthusiasm within me; and granting that modern English foxhunting is simply a scamper across country, with little more required of the huntsman than to keep near his hounds and watch the running, I now turn to the subject of this communication, in hopes of proving to you and your numerous readers that genuine foxhunting can be enjoyed on the Continent as well as in the Merry Isle, and that across a country which requires both a hunter and a rider with his heart in the right place....... At some future period I may, if agreeable to you, give you an account of a "run" in the French style.

As in your September number of '48 and January number of '49 a full and most particular account was given of this "hunt," the nature of the "country"--in a word, of everything which could interest your readers on the subject, I will not now trespass upon your valuable space furthermore than to add that many of the provincial countries in England are infinitely inferior to this for the purpose of foxhunting. Our coverts are small, consisting of woods with underbrush; our fences are principally banks, with ditches requiring a steady and resolute horse; and underfoot almost invariably grass, intermixed with gorse and fern-altogether a fine rough and tumble country, such as to satisfy the ambition of any real sportsman... The principal drawback is the fineness of the weather, and the heat and glare of the sun; more gentle rain and more moisture in the atmosphere would ensure better sport, in enabling the poor hounds to hunt up to the fox's kennel over the night's drag. High-bred English foxhounds have another disadvantage to contend with, in the dash which distinguishes them, and which is so indispensable with a flying, straight running fox; but which, on the other hand, is so baffling in the case of a short-running one, such as but too frequently falls to their lot to hunt in these " diggins." I am convinced from my own experience that more foxes would be killed here by a steady pack of harriers than by high-bred foxhounds. The scent being generally bad, requires also a closer hunting hound than our modern foxhound. However, I believe on the whole that there is more satisfaction in losing a fox now and then from too much dash on the part of the hound than there would be in riding after a lot of creeping, poking devils, that would be unable to race as well as chase. Nothing can be more glorious than galloping alongside of a pack of well-bred foxhounds, with scent breast-high, over these extensive Landes. Then what a head they carry, and how they gain upon their fox!

We took the field last autumn with some twenty couple of hounds, draughts from the "Warwickshire" and "Old Berkshire." Unfortunately, the best hounds from the last-named pack were very old; but I never saw better nor truer ones than some of them. One old hound in particular" Bathsheba" (a queer name for a dog-hound: "Bath

sheba" was the mother of David!)-was invaluable to us in many a check caused by the bad scent or wildness of the young hounds, of which we had more than a due proportion to render our pack effective. Old "Render" also, from the same pack, was worth his weight in gold in a check, and on a cold-scenting day. Both are now, alas! no more, with many other capital ones. Our opening day was the first Tuesday in November-the weather too fine and dry for scent wherever the ground was strewn with dead leaves. Heretofore it has been the custom to draw Pau Wood the first day. This is a fine large wood, with good spacious rides cut at right angles, and is generally soon got away from. On this occasion, however, Mr. Livingstone, in order to encourage strangers, several of whom were mounted on hired horses scarcely equal to the rasping bank which surrounds this noble cover, determined upon throwing off on the Landes, to the west of the Bordeauxroad. We found a brace in the second cover drawn, and, after a sharp scurry over the open Landes, came to a long and all-but hopeless check in a grove of oaks, where the dry leaves which covered the ground completely baffled the efforts of the hounds. A lucky lift to a neighbouring cover got us again upon the line of our fox, which broke away in the direction of the wood we had first found him in, and, after a beautiful burst, got to ground in an unknown earth.

The next meet was at the fourth milestone on the Biganos and Nay road. A fox was soon found, but got to ground. As the country had been minus a pack for two seasons, many new earths had been formed in the interval, and of course, in the commencement, we were but too often destined to lose our fox in this way. A second fox treated us to a sharp burst, and then we lost him over the hills, in consequence of the extreme dryness of the ground. On the whole, this has been, from the remarkable fineness of the weather, the very worst season for scent ever remembered here. A hard frost at night, succeeded by a hot sun, is not well calculated to render the ground retentive of scent. A drag, at the hour (half-past ten) at which we commence operations, was very rare; and the hounds had almost always to stumble by chance upon their fox. The next time we met at this same place, we had a beautiful find in a ravine, and, after a quick thing, and then some wonderfully steady and staunch hunting over the hills back of " Assat," ran into our fox down in the plain, close to "Angais." Time, one hour and a quarter. I scarcely think we should have been successful, if our fox had not taken to the pastures in the plain. What a difference it made to the scent and the music! The fox having been picked up in a ditch, and the weather being unseasonably warm, the hounds would not break him up. This unwillingness to eat their foxes has, however, characterised these hounds throughout the season, although it certainly has not in any way diminished their keenness in pursuit. Indeed, a bitch called "Venus," which formed part of the last pack-taking her all in all, perhaps, the most active and keen hound of the lot-was never known to taste blood; and yet no half-starved, hungry pot-hunter was ever more anxious to be the first up than is this excellent little bitch. On Thursday, the 14th, drew Pau Wood. Soon found, with a rattling scent-the best we were favoured with throughout the whole season. It was so good that three hounds alone, with "Venus" at their head, crept away; and although we had galloped round to the

east of the "Madeleine”—a sort of offshoot to Pau Wood-in order to see them break, and although we got there just as these three hounds came out, we were never able afterwards to stop them so as to allow the body of the pack to join them. Our fox, after crossing the Landes, ran through "Las Cledas," back again over the Landes to the earths at "Buros," thence back to Pau Wood, through it with a couple and a half of hounds only with him, out across the lane leading from the racecourse, along the brook to the south of it, again to Las Cledas," where he finally got into a deep drain. Not a check had we throughout, to enable us to get up the tail-hounds; but, of course, it was, on this very account, an unsatisfactory affair to the "field." The day was sunny and fine, but some rain having fallen the day before had made the scent first-rate.

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cover,

On Monday, the 18th, drew the covers back of the kennel. After two hours without a single whimper to cheer us, found in one of General Jacobi's spinnies; ran him through several small woods back in the direction of the kennel, when he headed for Bilhères, but probably hearing a cur barking just in his line, turned short back, crossed Mr. Maneseau's brook and new meadows, and, to our joy, took to the open Landes, running over them for about a couple of miles into a small out of which we viewed him issue just as the leading hounds entered it at the other end. He now doubled back to the thickly-wooded country about Lons, threading several small covers, back to General Jacobi's, and running his foil was finally lost, after an excellent hunting run of one hour and seven minutes. The scent was throughout most ticklish, particularly in cover over the leaves. N.B. The earth stopper, in stopping an earth at the Mill of Lescar, turned out on this same day a fine gray fox with his terrier.

On Friday, the 29th, as we were drawing a cover at Lescar, heard the earthstopper's horn in the distance, which, proclaiming a view, we hurried off to him, and were cheered by the information that he had, a couple of hours before, turned out a fox from an earth. As the hounds could just acknowledge the scent, tried for some time to hunt up to him, when, finding it hopeless, gave them a lift into an adjoining cover, through which we considered it likely he might have run; and sure enough, first a little feathering, a challenge or two, and then a deep crash proclaims a "find," and traversing the cover rapidly the pack heads for the Landes, crosses the Navailles road, passes through some more covers, and finally pulls up at an open earth in the side of a bank. Our vigilant earthstopper soon making his appearance, we determine to dig out the fox, which operation only takes some few minutes. Being a dog fox, we have him carefully carried some distance out on the Landes and then shaken out. After an exhilarating burst over the very same country, he gives us the slip in an immense badger's earth on the side of a hill in a vineyard, having had a most narrow escape from capture in a steel trap set by a rascally peasant right at the mouth of the earth: fortunately it had got unset before reynard arrived. Day raw, and something like hunting weather.

Tuesday, Dec. 10.-First turned down (proh pudor!) a fox on the Mortàas Landes, which being soon disposed of, we trotted off to the cover at Lée. As the huntsman was drawing a small patch of underbrush in the valley, a peasant hailed us from above to say he had just