at no great distance from some sheep. Having encased myself in my woolly habiliments, I stole gently to within about three hundred yards of the spot where the birds were quietly feeding, and going down on all-fours, crept quietly towards the place, being quite as fearful of alarming my fleecy allies as the game of which I was in pursuit. Quite contrary, however, to my expectation, the flock received me in a far more friendly manner than I had anticipated; still I was a mere “outsider," not venturing to intrude myself into the midst of their society, for fear of creating a sudden alarm by not bleating in tune, or not coughing at the right pitch. At last, by degrees, we gradually closed with each other, until I judged them to be at the distance of about forty yards, when I suddenly raised myself on my knees and pulled the right trigger: a fine cock-bird was shot through the head and killed; the flock then rose-that is to say, as high as they usually do before they half fly half run at the approach of man, giving me a splendid chance for a second shot: I pulled the left trigger, but, alas! how disappointed was I to discover that, in crawling along, I had rubbed the cap off the nipple, and the consequence was a misfire. This was the only bird I contrived to get all the time I was in the Mediterranean.

From here we proceeded to Athens, in which neighbourhood we found some good harc-shooting. I visited the city but for one whole day, which was far too short a time to view its beauties aright, and to convince myself that these were the realities of the classic shadows that had haunted me ever since my schoolboy-days.

On the coasts of Syria and Egypt we got some of the best snipeshooting which, I should suppose, is to be obtained in the whole world. In the neighbourhood of Tripoli, a Captain G., of H.M.S. B, shot in one day 72 couples. A ludicrous adventure occurred to us upon one occasion, as we were returning from our day's sport. At the distance of about half a mile from us we perceived two black objects elevated in the air, and which were continually moved about; at the same time we fancied that we could distinctly hear cries of distress. We immediately proceeded to the spot, and, to our great amusement, we perceived that the dark objects were the hats of two French officers, who had, like ourselves, been enjoying a morning's diversion amongst the long-bills, and who had, as they were returning in the evening, inadvertently walked right into one of the quicksands, with which the coast abounds, and from which they were entirely unable to extricate themselves. They had placed their hats upon their guns, and hoisted them as signals, shouting at the same time with all their might. The poor chasseurs were in a most pitiable state of alarm, as well they might be, engulphed to above their middles in this most retentive bog. By the aid of pockethandkerchiefs, shooting-straps, &c., we managed to rig out a line sufficiently long to reach them, and by this assistance they were undoubtedly saved from either a miserable and lingering death, or, what would have been quite as bad, falling into the hands of the remorseless peasants and shepherds of this lawless neighbourhood.

(To be continued.)

"THE STAG AND HOUNDS."

WITH TWO ILLUSTRATIONS-THE STAG, AFTER ALKEN; AND THE HOUNDS, BY R. B. DAVIS.

The merits of stag-hunting, like the merits of beef-steaks, may be discussed in more ways than one. First and foremost, of course, there is the ancient versus modern, now put and known only as Devon against the world. Then, again, there are north and south ready to join issue, and the stalking of the Highlands to be estimated by the right-away run of the level; while, for a third, we will enter it as "the show" and "go," and making this our own theme, proceed at once to adapt it to the brace of illustrations we march into March with.

"The show" of stag-hunting is easily comprehended, as long as there is Grant's "Meet on Ascot-heath" to refresh one's memory, or open the eyes of his experience What a Court-Circular-looking affair it is, to be sure! What terrible dandies! and what a lavender-water odour pervades the whole scene! We never see it without thinking what a wonderful attraction it would make for a tailor's window. And yet, mind, it is beautifully grouped, and sketched to the very life, for all that. No one, as we have often said, can give the gentleman-sportsman's portrait like Grant. It was the very nature of his subject that made the painting what it is; and had he been less dazzling, he would have been less true to the original. A "show" meet brings show people; and nine times out of ten the show is just all they come for. Even here, with so many acknowledged good ones "included," it looks so fine as to almost look slow. Fancy the Count, for instance, with all that spread of collar and liberality of neckcloth, that drawing room finish of polish, getting a fair share of the mud-scrapings incident on fighting his way down one of the narrow lanes! Or the be-ringletted buck behind him, whom a rural friend of ours will always identify with the menagerie," having a "rape of the lock" at an overgrown blackthorn! Yea, verily, Paddy, too, gives you the idea of being "costumed" for the character and the contrast; while the worthy baronet seated on the heath must have been so postured by the prompter half-a-minute before he rang 'em up. One and all, to "Mr. Davies himself, the grand thing to see with them," according to the almost-impious assertion of our Pytchley Commissioner, have, in their air, the pomps and vanities of place too much about them, and strike you as performers who will never shine so much as when there is nothing to do. This, though, is a mistake; the "show" and "go" can be combined. The dandy troops did their duty as well, if not better, than any of the rough-and-ready at Waterloo; and, on the same terms, we will pound it these exquisites would go just as straight as any lot of hardriding" tigers" you might pick out from the provinces.

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