'won't stand that sort of dodging work we so often get with the 'foxhounds in this cramped country; besides, it's only for once;' and, looking with the eye of a sportsman over the hounds, as clustering round Sam Caird's horse they came suddenly round the corner, a beautiful lot they are surely. Call them harriers! Why 'I never set eyes on a likelier pack of foxhounds!'

The noble master had arrived in a brougham by himself, but a light dog-cart bearing his crest and coronet had conveyed to the meet two visitors at the Castle, foreigners apparently. Both were smoking and extensively got up, one, the younger, evidently in a state of great excitement, all anxiety to witness an English chase of the fox,' and burning to distinguish himself as a horseman. This was the Count Heitansek, a German nobleman, the other a Yankee officer of high rank in his own country, General Lucius Junius A. Grubb. The general was a heavy, coarse man with large hands, rather dirty, a husky voice, small restless eye, and a damp, unpleasant expression of countenance. He had come to England ostensibly on a diplomatic mission, but in reality to palm off upon gullible John Bull a swindling Californian gold-mining speculation, in which object he had succeeded entirely to his own satisfaction. Possessing, in common with most of his countrymen, unbounded assurance and the highest credentials, he had called personally on her Majesty's principal ministers, of whom Lord Bagwash was one, and, on the strength of a vague and undefined hope of one day seeing him at the Castle,' the general had presented himself on an elastic visit at that hospitable abode a few days previously. His lordship-the most courteous of men-was sorely put out and greatly disgusted, but what could he do? He could not turn him out, but he could give him a mount, and he did-on one of his splendid carriage horses. The general's steed was a showy beast, and good of his sort, but he was not altogether a hunter; he stood sixteen three, iron gray, with a Roman nose, a ewe neck, and a bang tail down to his hocks, had capital knee-action, and no more mouth than an ox. His rider, who had mounted at the cross roads, showed already signs of considerable discomfort.

CHAPTER III.-THE run.

The hounds at once moved down the lane, heads and sterns up, and apparently ready to break away at short notice. Ben opening a gate to the right, the pack passed rapidly through, and hardly waiting for the huntsman's accustomed cheer and wave of the hand, swung rapidly round, picking up the scent as they swung and went off in a southerly direction directly upwind.

There was a tremendous bustle and hustle, of course, every one trying to get a good place at the start. Our friend Mr. Stubbs, touching his horse lightly with the spur, bounded over the low fence to the left and rattled down at best pace almost in a line with the leading hounds.

Why! they've got on a fox,' said young Sydney.

'Shouldn't wonder,' replied his friend; they often do !'

'Not that way, master; ride to the left,' said Slender Billy to his patron; I seed him turn under the 'edge. He's gone Botsover 'ways.'

Billy had not seen this, but he was right, nevertheless; the fox had turned, and was now heading straight for the well-remembered forest.

Mr. Wood, availing himself of the hint, turned his horse's head in the direction indicated, and, closely followed by the count, joined Mr. Stubbs at the corner of the field, where an accommodating gate stood wide open.

Meanwhile the General's horse

'Right glad to miss

The lumbering of the wheels,'

had gone off at score, his head down and his great knees showing at every plunge above his ears like the pistons of a steam engine, his rider with toes turned out, and hands on a level with his eyes, vainly striving to guide or stop him. The swamp, however, into which he floundered, speedily effected the latter object; and just as the hounds and the leading portion of the field disappeared over the brow of Crowhurst Hill, the gallant General found himself mid-leg deep in the black liquid slime of a bottomless bog, his horse's outstretched neck and head just appearing above the verdant mud.' Wet, dirty, sore, and sulky, truly my lord was avenged! The German, who did not lack pluck, and was well mounted, followed close upon Mr. Wood's traces, his elbows out, his coat-tails flying in the wind, in a state of uproarious excitement. Our friend was in considerable danger of being ridden down, but fortunately for him both steeds rose in the air at the same moment at the same gap, and cannoning midway, the lightest-poor Heitansek-was shot into a soft ploughed field, with little damage but much dirt. Stubbs and Wood and a few of the best mounted of the field kept their place some sixty or seventy yards to the right of the hounds, taking their fences as they came in gallant style, but husbanding their horses for what they felt must be a trying day. The body of the field meanwhile rattled along the high road, or the grass that skirted it, parallel with their course at no great distance to the left. The hounds literally raced, carrying a capital head, fleet as swallows, mute as mice.

By all that's beautiful,' quoth Stubbs, if this be not the real thing, it's wonderfully like it; but,' added he, the exulting gleam fading from his jolly face, 'it's not the real thing-sheep dogs could run that < scent; I could run it myself; it's a sin to waste hounds' noses on it,' and, squeezing his hat over his eyes, and taking a pull at the young horse, he drove him at the low wall that bounded the field before him.

Not there!-not there, Stubbs !' shouted Tom Haylock. 'there for your life!' but too late; the good horse had already risen at the wall which bounded a deep almost empty pond beyond. Nothing

but great presence of mind and admirable horsemanship saved him from a serious accident. He had ridden at the fence much faster than he ought; his horse was young, and, truth to say, though over sixty, so was his master. Becoming aware of his danger as he rose to the leap, the rider cleverly shifted his whip to his left hand, and throwing his body as far backward as possible, seized the cantle of the saddle with his right. Happily, a foot or two of mud had collected at the bottom of the pond, which, moistened by the recent rains, broke the force of the fall, and the rider's great strength enabled him to keep his seat. Such, however, was the strain that the saddle, firmly held by triple girth, was broken in the middle and doubled up as it were under him. The horse scrambled out snorting and terrified, but unhurt, and Stubbs, muttering something to himself expressive of 'wonder whether he would ever grow older,' speedily regained his place.

The hounds were still running at a rattling pace, but hardly that at which they had started. The distance had told, and it must be confessed they straggled considerably. Fine noses were of little use, and the old hunting hounds were fain to follow the dashing puppies as best they might. Of the field the majority were fairly beaten, and one by one dropped behind till only about a score were with the hounds, and each of that number inwardly prayed for a check, if but for a minute, to enable their blown horses to catch their wind. This, however, was not to be; a view halloo a short distance ahead told that the fox had entered Brierly Copse; and in another minute the hounds, no longer mute, were making the old oaks ring again with their cheery music as they ran parallel with the road which bounds it. Leaving the friendly covert and thick underwood, the ferns and tangled briars, many parts of which might well have afforded shelter, and still running right into the eye of the wind, the bold fox headed directly for Thorney Wood. Entering by the beeches at the north side, like one that knew the country from cubhood, he ran right through the covert, through the gorse at the bottom, and swimming over the now flooded river below, was viewed just as, about to vanish, he reached the summit of the rising ground on the opposite side.

Scarcely had he put the brow betwixt himself and his pursuers than a new danger awaited him. A red, rough-coated, (tailless shepherd's dog, viewing the draggled beast as he sped wearily along rushed at him open-mouthed. Bow, wow, wow! bow wow! At the insult and unprovoked attack, all the savage instinct of the fox was aroused. Like the wearied, jaded Deloraine when he marked 'the crane on the baron's crest,' and recognized his feudal enemy, no ' whit weary did he seem.' With arched back and bloodshot, angry eye, every hair on his dank body standing on end, hate and rage glistening on his sharp teeth, the bold beast waited not the attack. With a wicked snarl from the bottom of his throat, he met the dog more than half way, and as they closed made his sharp fangs meet through the fore-leg. Wough, wough, wough! pen-a-neek; pen

a-neek! yelped the cur, as he fled limping back to his kennel at the homestead the other side of the field. The fox turned short to the left, and running low down the furrow gained the hedge on that side, whence unobserved he pursued his former course. This apparently untoward accident saved him. At the scene of the conflict the hounds threw up, and whilst they were yet puzzling over the mixed scent, Count Heitansek, still thirsting for fame and, notwithstanding various heavy falls, uproarious and jubilant, was in the midst of them. Catching sight of the retreating cur as he jumped the palings, and mistaking him for the fox, he seized the opportunity of immortalizing himself. Tailoo! taleo! Get avaa-oldard-hoop-yocks'tailho!' yelled he, vociferating, as best he might, all the sounds his quick ear had caught during the run, and riding as he yelled in the direction of the retreating sheep-dog. The hounds, though his language was a mystery, comprehended his action; their heads were up in a second, and Volatile and Vanity, catching sight of the red back of the dog as it vanished beyond the palings, dashed away, followed by half the pack. Old Caird, with Ben, however, now appeared, and taking in the situation at half a glance, lost no time in cursing the German, but blowing his horn, recalled the scattered pack, and once more put them on the track of the beaten fox, now heading directly for the forest, which nevertheless he did not enter, but ran as though he had a point beyond, though what that could be no one could guess. As the reader knows, a considerable brook runs at the bottom of Thorney Wood.

It was a gallant sight to see the four or five leading men charge the water that day. The recent rains had swelled it into something like a river, narrow, perhaps, but not the less dangerous on that account. Full to the brim, the turbid, brown stream rolled rapidly along; and it required no small amount of pluck in Tom Haylock, who was leading, to drive his horse at it, but he did so, and with more or less assumed eagerness the others followed. It is not a pleasant sensation to find your horse disappearing under you, little but his head and ears visible, snorting with fear, and swimming rapidly but uneasily, whilst the cold water rises well nigh to your hips, and searches every aperture in boots and breeches. Still the gallant few struggled on, and reaching the opposite shore landed safely, and followed as best they might the dripping pack which had preceded them by a few moments only, each hound having shaken himself as he landed, showering the drops around him like a trundled mop.

Was our friend Mr. Stubbs among this gallant band? He was not. During the run he might have been heard muttering to himself, or remarking to a neighbour the extraordinary knowledge of the country apparently possessed by a strange fox; but when the forest, the gorse, and the woods were alike left behind, and the draggled, weary beast was seen struggling up the opposite bank of the river, he reined his horse up suddenly, exclaiming, 'I thought

It is assumed that every reader of 'Baily' is conversant with 'A Fox's 'Tale.'

'so! I knew it all along!' and striking him with the spurs he rode off at the best' pace he could command in a direct line for the Grange. Crashing through the rotten fence before him he found himself on the high road, and not stopping to pay the toll galloped along the grass at the side till he arrived at his own gate, just in time to see the fox, dead beat, and with scarce strength to surmount the old wall which bounded the premises, creep into the stone kennel, and turning round lie exhausted, his red tongue hanging from his mouth, panting for dear life. Springing with more agility than his figure promised from his reeking steed, he flung the rein to a passing labourer, and planted himself before the kennel just as Ringlet and Rallywood, Bondsman and Butterfly, followed by five or six couple more, topped the wall, and, thirsting for blood, dashed across the little paddock which lay between it and the kennel beneath the elms. Crack! crack! went the honest yeoman's whip. Crack! crack!! crack!!! 'Get away, hounds! Get away! To think that it 'should come to this; that they should murder my Charlie!' Crack! crack!! Wow! wow! I wouldn't hurt you, but-' crack, crack! get away, get away!!! Oh, here you are, Ben; thank good'ness! Well, if ever I go after a bag-fox again! ' —it's lucky I did, though, this time; but if ever I go again. It's 'fast enough; I must allow, but it's not the right thing-not for any 'one who calls himself a sportsman, at all events; and, as for Charlie, I'll never tie him up again; he may stay or go as he 'pleases; and if he ever runs again before a pack of hounds, it shall ' be after an honest find, and no odds against him but the honest 'scent he leaves behind him!'

BETTING AND BETTORS.

In the good old times' of which we are wont to hear so much, when horses were kept for pleasure instead of profit, and an honourable spirit pervaded the very limited class which could afford to indulge in such an unremunerative pursuit as racing,—in the good old times betting was confined, for the most part, to the owners of the animals engaged, and their transactions were comparatively insignificant, when we look at the prodigious outlay which characterizes the pursuit of modern racing, and which is not restricted only to the more important contests of the year, but is a conspicuous feature in every fifty pound plate, and selling race, throughout the length and breadth of the kingdom. Instead, therefore, of being reckoned among the recreations of the Briton, the maintenance of a racing establishment and its judicious 'market' management, ought surely to rank among the most important business transactions of life, the very cares and anxieties of which the noble pastime was originally calculated to relax; for it is now sufficiently notorious that the value of stakes, large and continually increasing as they have