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tints which gave animation to the countenance, and
the colouring of the drapery, disappeared, and left
on the canvas only a natural but elegant outline,
when nothing less than death was foreboded from this
extraordinary phenomenon. Sir Walter being in
London, an express was immediately despatched,
with whom the baronet returned in perfect health,
to the great joy of his friends and his family; he
laughed heartily at the incident, but, to revenge
himself upon the painter, wrote the following epigram,
and in letters of gold inscribed it beneath the picture :

The art of painting clearly was designed,
To bring the features of the dead to mind,
But this damn'd painter has revers'd the plan,
And made the picture die before the man.

Sport rather than art monopolised the attention of the majority of the upper class.

The existence of many country gentlemen was entirely concentrated upon it, and young squires who were obliged to spend any length of time in London used sometimes to behave in a very queer way. One of these young gentlemen, having been obliged to proceed to town on account of being subpoenaed as a witness in a trial for an assault committed upon one of his gamekeepers, set out for the metropolis in great ill-humour. Thinking, however, that some sport might be attainable near London, he did not fail to take a couple of dogs and his gun. Putting up at an old-fashioned hotel, he spent the most part of the day occupied at the courts, and

became very bored. The law business, his dinner, and his loungings at the theatre being over, he used to come home at about twelve, and, bent upon gratifying his sporting propensities, never failed to blow a coach horn, animate his dogs, fire two or three times out of the window, and halloo in the loudest tones for about two hours before he retired to bed. To his satisfaction, his room was hung with old arras, which, though in tatters, still exhibited the faded remains of a stag-hunt. Before this venerable tapestry he made his dogs bark, encouraging them with hunting cries, which highly delighted the ears of the young Nimrod. This noise, however, for several nights annoyed the inmates of the house, but especially a country attorney, whose bad luck and unlucky star would have it that he should sleep immediately above the turbulent votary of Diana. Vainly he tried by all possible means to restore the welcome silence of the night-he remonstrated with the timid landlord, knocked repeatedly upon floor with a stick, a chair, anything he had at hand, but to no purpose. The squire could not or would not hear. Deprived of his rest, the lawyer at last determined to put an end, if he could, to the disturbing commotion, and, mustering a bold countenance, went to meet the hunter in full chase. At one o'clock he came down, opened the door, and having, with great difficulty, obtained what could hardly be called silence, gently and politely represented his sad case to the squire, who, without turning from the forest-wrought arras, answered, with a sneer, "I

the

am fond of hunting, sir, and will not give up my diversion for your sake." Ill-pleased with this short and peremptory decree, the attorney returned to his apartment in dudgeon, and as he could not get a wink of sleep, framed at last an ingenious and effective plan of revenge.

The next day, having done his business earlier than usual, the attorney came to his lodgings, and sending for a bricklayer, expounded his scheme. "My man, said he, "build me directly before this door a wall about a foot and a half broad, and a foot high."

The fellow stared, wondered at the scheme, but soon obeyed, and in a little time the task was performed. Then a water-carrier was sent for. "My lad," said the attorney, "fill me up this room with twenty pails of water, and that within two hours." The watercarrier smiled, nodded, and at about half-past eleven the job was done.

Soon after the hunter came home, roused his dogs, sounded his horn, fired his piece as usual; but "Zounds!" exclaimed he, " am I caught in a shower? What the devil is this?" Indeed, a deluge of water was pouring unmercifully at all points, on himself, on his dogs, on his bed, and on his very light, which was soon put out. Finding himself in the dark, wet to the skin, and enraged at his disappointment, he flew up the stairs, opened the door of the lawyer, and, with the accompaniment of the most horrid imprecations, thundered out, "By all the devils in hell, sirrah, what are you about?" The attorney was in bed, a book in one hand and a fishing-rod in

the other; he turned deliberately to the squire, and said with great composure, "You are fond of hunting, sir, I am fond of fishing." The squire bit his lips in attempting to smile, went back to his room, and hunted no more.

The great popularity of fox-hunting, without doubt, largely contributed to the efficiency of English cavalry leaders, and it was said of two celebrated generals, that they never could have taken the long rides they did, or been the active commanders they were, had they not been natural-bred fox-hunters. This was the case with Lord Lake in India, and with the Duke of Wellington in Spain. With the latter, whenever the army moved its quarters, the hounds were always on the right of the line.

A great fox-hunter was Sir John Hill, of Hawkestone, a veteran of the chase, aptly described as the "Father of Heroes" and the king of sportsmen, who for long years after his death lived in the memory and affections of many.

On the whole, the annals of fox-hunting present much of which Englishmen can be proud, but one unpleasant trait afflicted only too many of its devotees. Unfortunately, fox-hunters were only too often intemperate, and the copious libations in which they indulged shortened the lives of many. Somerville, for instance, the sportsman's own poet, whose Chase is full of pure nature and vivid description, died broken in constitution owing to his indulgence in toddy—a mixture of rum and black currant jelly, with a very sparing dash of water-an excellent and healing

beverage after a hard day's exercise when taken moderately, but in Somerville's case an insinuating poison.

The convivial habits so prevalent amongst English sportsmen of a past age, though they promoted jollity and good-fellowship, without doubt often brought a good deal of sorrow in their train. Pleasure of every kind is generally purchased pretty dear, for the gods "give us nothing, but sell us all things," and they put a high price on some of their commodities. The source of pleasure is not infrequently also the source of pain. Nevertheless, it will always find a market. The wisest course is to treat it as a connoisseur does strong wine of rare vintage, and indulge with moderation at congenial intervals, taking care, however, to avoid deferring tasting it till too late, when the progress of years will have impaired its

taste.

Old newspapers and letters abound in records of Bacchanalian excess, for which reason it is difficult for the conscientious chronicler to avoid some mention of the drinking habits prevalent in the past, however unpalatable this may be to the present more moderate generation.

When, in a former volume, the present writer gave some account of the unconventional habits which formerly prevailed amongst English sportsmen, he was in consequence roundly abused for dwelling upon vulgar and unpleasant subjects, and even accused

* The Merry Past.