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ornamented with a beard and mustachios that quite covered his face, and decked out in a suit of Lincoln green couteau de chasse, the belt of which was elaborately ornamented with silver ornaments, upon which were emblazoned the arms of the nobleman, and a huge cocked hat and feather. "Monsieur le Comte will be happy to see you in a few moments," said the obsequious chasseur. "At present he is engaged with the Minister for Foreign Affairs; in the meantime, perhaps you will have the goodness to walk into the count's morning room." Styles followed his conductor across the court-yard, the sides and centre of which were covered with a profusion of flowers, and reached the entrance; here a bevy of finely-dressed, pampered footmen were assembled, with the chef of the establishment, a Frenchman, at their head. "Monsieur Styles," shouted the German; upon which announcement the well-bred footmen formed a passage, and the "gentleman" out of livery, bowing to the new-comer, fed him through a hall, ornamented with a marble fountain, and filled with the choicest exotics, towards a tolerable-sized room, looking out upon the garden. "If Monsieur Styles will have the goodness to take a seat for a few moments," said the chef, in his native language, "the count will give him an audience as soon as the minister takes his departure." The apartment our young hero was shown into was the count's morning-room, and it was fitted up in a truly English style. walls were decorated with prints and pictures of British sports. Over the chimney-piece was the celebrated likeness of poor Byron's poreal pastor" Jackson. Upon one side was a view of the Tennis-court filled with sporting characters, when in the palmy days of the ring it was converted into an arena for a sparring exhibition; and upon the other was a spirited drawing of the far-famed fight between Crib and Molyneux. Portraits of celebrated winners from Eclipse down to The Colonel occupied one side of the room; while, on another, hunting subjects graced the walls. Fishing, coaching, cock-fighting, shooting, otter-hunting, steeple-chasing, and bull-baiting were not forgotten; and the general appearance of the room reminded Styles of Ackerman's Sporting Gallery in his own native country. Upon a large writing-table Sporting Reviews, Magazines, Racing Calendars, were scattered about; while a small book-case, headed" Racing," contained the Book Calendar, from its commencement down to the present time; while another, headed "Sport," contained almost every book that had ever been written upon hunting, shooting, fishing, cricketing, and coaching. To prove that the owner's practice came up to his theory, boxing-gloves, foils, cricket-bats, fishing-rods and tackle, whips, guns, and pistols, were to be found in this "Sportsman's Cabinet." Styles had just opened the last Racing Calendar, when the door opened, and the count appeared.

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The noble Pole, advancing towards his visitor, begged in the most affable terms that he would take a seat. For a moment the young jockey fancied that there was a likeness between the count and some one he had seen before in England, but the foreign accent and broken English speedily removed such an idea from his mind, as, until his arrival on the continent, Styles had never exchanged a word with a

foreigner. After a short preface the count opened his business, which was to authorise Styles to purchase for him a celebrated thoroughbred English horse, that was to run, in a few days, for a private match in the Bois de Boulogne; money he declared to be no object, and, in the event of the purchase being made, he wished to retain the young jockey's services to ride him for a large stake in the ensuing Paris races. Styles replied that he had seen the horse in question on the previous afternoon, that he was for sale after the match, but that no sum would tempt the owner to part with him until that event came off. The count expressed his satisfaction at the honourable conduct of the party who had the disposal of the horse, and begged that Styles would lose no time in seeing him, to obtain the owner's permission to see the "flyer" in his stables, when he would make him an offer for the horse in question. Our young jockey readily assented, and was about to depart, when the nobleman insisted upon his waiting for a déjeuner à la fourchette; this was speedily served, and nothing could exceed the luxury or splendour of the repast. Styles then took his leave, and, taking the first "cab" off the stand, proceeded to the trainer's grounds, near the Plains de Neuilly, where he at once found the party he sought.

Style's name and character was well known to the trainer, and he at once gave permission to the count to see the horse in his stable. "Had it not been for you, Mr. Styles," said the man, "I should have demurred, for we have such a set of rogues in Paris, who call themselves dukes, counts, and barons, that one never knows who is and who is not a swindler; but after your noble master's letter, of course all is right and 'no mistake.'" The young jockey acknowledged the compliment, and took his leave; not, however, before he had quaffed a glass of English ale to the friends he had left in his own country. Within an hour he was again at the Hotel Petrawski, where he communicated to the count, that, at four o'clock, the owner of the horse he was anxious to purchase would be in attendance at his stables. Four o'clock arrived, and, at that hour, the count's britschka, with Styles on the box, drove up to the stables of the trainer. The count, after complimenting the owner, not only upon the goodness of the horse, but upon the motive that prompted him to refuse any offer until the match had come off, proceeded to the stable, and there for some time he remained, praising all the fine points of the animal. "May I go up to his head?" at length he asked. "Certainly, my lord; he's as gentle as a lamb." The count approached, and, patting the horse's head, again descanted on his beauty. At this moment the trainer came up; when the count, as if accidentally, dropped his beautifully mounted china-headed cane; "I would not have that broken for thousands!" he exclaimed, "it was a gift to me from Baron Chekinski." The trainer stooped to pick up this valuable relic, during which brief moment our lynx-eyed jockey fancied he saw the count take something from his waistcoat pocket and deposit it in the manger. "Thank you, my good friend," said the count to the trainer, as he presented him with the unbroken cane; "after the match

I consider the horse mine-there's a cheque for the money, payable in Paris. Come, Styles, we've occupied already too much of Mr.'s valuable time." A strange thought flitted, for a moment, across the young jockey's brain, but it vanished as quickly. After making a liberal present to the boy that looked after his newly purchased horse, the count got into his carriage and returned to his hotel. Styles took his leave, after engaging to ride the horse at the next Paris races, and felt happy that he had had it in his power to forward the views of one whom his noble master and patron, in England, had taken so great an interest in.

Upon the following morning the race was to come off in the Bois de Boulogne; and at an early hour all the sporting world had congregated at the spot selected for the arena, in which the celebrated English gelding, Monarch, was to compete against a horse bred in La Belle France, although of as genuine an English pedigree as that of his competitor.

Another great improvement has taken place since the period of these "grand tours," as we may designate them: from the scientific manner in which the breed of hounds has been attended to, they have been made to run much better together; and from a strict regard to breeding from hounds of a good sound constitution, tired hounds are seldom to be met with. In fact, nothing is so disgraceful as in a run of any severity to hear of detached bodies of hounds making their way over a country, and it is considered by all houndsmen, that a hound missing at the death of a fox after a trial of speed and stoutness, provided that hound was well and had a fair start with the body, and was not thrown out by being divided on a second fox at finding, should never be taken out again to disgrace not only himself but the breeder of him. Numerous anecdotes are on record of hounds killing foxes single handed, after severe runs; one in particular is related by Daniel of a bitch running into her fox even after having her eye accidentally cut out by the lash of the whipper-in, who attempted to stop her at finding. I remember, about twenty years ago, myself, Sir Thomas Mostyn's hounds throwing off at Hellidon Gorse, near Shuckborough; when having, as Tom Wingfield the huntsman fancied, drawn the cover without finding, two couple of hounds slipped away at the bottom, and after a

most brilliant thing, all by themselves, killed their fox near to Dunchurch, where they were seen by a farmer who was up at the death and secured the hounds, who followed him with the dead fox in his hand to his stable; no doubt, if they had broken the fox up themselves, they would have immediately made their way across the country to try and join their less fortunate comrades. Daniel also mentions the circumstance of a pack dividing into three bodies at finding, and each lot getting well away, all succeeding in killing their fox, after a chase of great severity.

The following instance of the sagacity of the foxhound, approaching nearer to reason than instinct, is a favourite anecdote of mine, inasmuch as I am intimately acquainted with every inch of ground over which this sagacious animal travelled during her performance of the feat, having been accustomed to hunt over that part of the country for many years during the early part of my life. When Mr. Taylor and Mr. Smith hunted Northamptonshire, and kept their hounds at Winwick, a village in that county, they were in the habit of going occasionally to Lutterworth, in Leicestershire, for a fortnight's hunting. Upon one of these occasions a favourite hound, called Dancer, was left behind in Northamptonshire, as not being quite sound. The first day's hunting from Lutterworth produced an extraordinary day's sport, and the hounds and horses being so much fatigued, it was deemed necessary to stop that night at Leicester. Upon their arrival on the next day at Lutterworth, they were informed that a hound answering the description of Dancer came soon after they had left the kennel in the morning, where he waited all day, and after shewing signs of uneasiness at their not returning at night, left the kennel sometime before the next morning. It was concluded that he had gone back to Winwick. On the hounds returning to their kennel in Northamptonshire, the huntsman was surprised to hear that the old hound had come back, stayed one day, and then had departed again. After great inquiries he was at last found at Mr. Newsome's, in Warwickshire, where the hounds. had been for a week some months before.

For the authenticity of the following anecdotes, I think I may safely vouch. The first I had from Thomas Smith, kennel huntsman to Mr. Musters, a person who was not only an eye-witness of the fact, but one of the actors in this interesting performance at the time it took place, and since that I have had the account confirmed by Mr. M. himself. With regard to the second, I can assure my readers that it happened at my own kennel, and, therefore, I can myself answer for the truth of it.

Almost all fox-hunters know, or at any rate must have heard, of Mr. Musters, of Colwick, who is deservedly placed at the head of the list of all huntsmen, whether amateurs or professionals; he has brought up and instructed more servants as huntsmen, whippers-in, and feeders, than all the rest of the masters of hounds put together. Within these few years there were no less than five huntsmen hunting crack packs of hounds at the same time, all of whom had learned their first rudiments under this skilful performer. Mr. Musters has had many imitators, but no rivals; when working, there is an indescribable communion between

him and his pack, which has been attained by no one else, and on that account, all who have been gratified by the performance of his celebrated pack, either in Nottinghamshire or in the Pytchley country, must be convinced that he is decidedly the most skilful amateur huntsman that ever cheered a hound, and can draw forth the hidden powers and capabilities of that animal, on a bad scenting day, to a greater degree than any man in England. The attachment which his hounds always evince towards him, when approaching them on a hunting morning, is most particularly striking; and those who have so frequently seen it will not, on that account, be so much astonished at the following anecdote. During one of the seasons that Mr. Musters hunted Northamptonshire, the hounds were to meet at that well-known cover, Badby Wood, and were taken on the day previous by his huntsman, Smith, who lived so many years with Lord Middleton, and afterwards with Mr. Osbaldeston, to sleep at the Bull's Head, at Weedon. On arriving at a place where the road from Northampton converges into the road by which they were travelling, suddenly some of the most forward of them became restless, and, by their manner, the huntsman concluded that a disturbed fox had crossed near that place; in a few moments the whole pack, which had been fed, and were dreaming as they plodded along of the "joys of the next coming day," became roused from their torpor, and in one moment more were away;" the huntsman swore the devil was in them, the whippers rode and rated to no purpose; at last, in turning a corner, about a mile further on, who should be seen but Mr. Musters himself, who had come by the second road, and was jogging quietly along on the hack which usually carried him to cover, to dine and sleep, previously to hunting, at the house of a gentleman in that neighbourhood. The Squire, no doubt, almost fancied that he had "had his day," and that, like the canine attendants of his predecessor Actæon, his faithful followers were immediately about to perform his obsequies. An attempt to describe the delight of the whole pack, and of their gallant general, would, I fear, spoil the picture; one favourite actually jumped upon the quarters of the horse, and licked his master's face; it was next to an impossibility to call them off, and the only means to persuade them to proceed was for Mr. Musters to ride several miles out of his way to conduct these faithful creatures to the inn where they were to be lodged for the night.

The second anecdote is of a hound-bitch called Frenzy, which came to me in 1834, with some others from Overton, in Hampshire, where the kennel of the Vine hounds is situated. Being on heat when she arrived, she was accordingly shut up separate, and in due course of time, being taken to exercise with the rest of the pack, availed herself of the first opportunity of decamping, and arrived, as a letter from Adamson the huntsman informed me, on

* One of the greatest compliments ever paid by a huntsman to a young master of hounds, was the circumstance of old Sam Lawley, who was many years huntsman to the late Lord Vernon, leaving his horn as a legacy at his death to Mr. Musters, declaring with becoming pride that he knew no young sportsman so deserving of it.