if he had "gone away;" but no one could tell of his whereabouts. In another moment the hounds had gained the outside of the gorse, and by themselves made a most glorious cast, and hit him off in grand style over the grass pastures, and away we went over the open, and pointing in a direct line for the Oay. But Reynard was headed by a large flock of sheep, and had bent to the right; and, after some admirable casts by the huntsman to recover their game, we gave him up as lost. I should observe, on this side of the country the ground was very hard, with a sharp frost that had set in after daylight on the morning of this day; and the powers of "old Sol" to dispel it had not had the effect by 11 A.M.

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Walker returned to Kinnaird Hill, drew it again carefully, in hopes to find his friend had returned, but he was "non est ;" and as the day was young, we moved across the valley, and bent our way to a most beautiful covert on the top of the hill, about a mile to the south of Lindores. The hounds were no sooner into the gorse than their gay notes broke with cheerful cadence on our ear; and after a short ring in covert, Reynard soon found his morning's quarters too hot to hold him, and he quickly broke away at the south side of the covert, and in full view of Merry John." His merry cheer soon put his darlings on his line, and we sunk the vale at a most killing pace; Captain Rait leading the van, and on over the open pastures like a flash of lightning, without one moment's time to tarry-no check, no nothing; but on like the wind to Rossie Den, a large open wood on the opposite side of the vale. Here we fancied that "bold Reynard" would take some little time to tarry; but on-on, like a flight of blue rocks, was the order of the day; and although we got on to a friendly ride in this large wood, and went best pace through it, we were barely in time, on emerging at the far end of the wood, to catch a glimpse of the hounds going at a most fearful pace over the open, and fully half a mile ahead of us, and not a soul with them. However, each good man and true was doing all that in him lay to catch them; and, in another minute, I observed Captain Rait, Lord Ogilvie, Mr. White Melville, Mr. Jones, and Merry John," sailing away to my right. On, on we went, crossed the Edinburgh road and over a beautiful country, and ran him to ground in a grass field, within a field of Mr. Skein's property at Pitfour. The latter place had evidently been his point; but had it not been for this friendly drain, we much doubt whether he could ever have reached it. A few minutes would have brought this gallant fox to book; but he was too good to be sacrificed; and, as the worthy master remarked, "We are full of blood, and will save this noble fellow for another occasion." Time-and without a single check— 32 minutes; and any one who will take a look at the map of the little kingdom of Fife will have a pretty good guess of the distance from Lindores to Pitfour, and done in 32 minutes. Every face beamed with joy; and we fancied that "Merry John" would rest content for the day; but he trotted though Auchtermuchty; and after jogging for other four or five miles on the way to Cupar, turned to the left and drew a beautiful covert at 3 P.M. (we forget the name of it), and can't say we were sorry to see him disappointed; for, to tell the truth, by this time we began to long for some of the creature comforts, and which we knew were awaiting us at the " gude auld town o' Cupar," and where we arrived at 5 P.M. Here we remained over the Sunday and Monday, and en

joyed ourself "right merrilie"-had a regular inspection of Walker's stud, both in hounds and horses; the former comprising 36 couple of hunting hounds, and his one-season hunters (I mean his late year's entry) are as good as gold: one may travel a long journey before he sets eyes on bitches like Beauty, Brevity, and Bellmaid-all sisters, and by Lord Yarborough's Dreadnought, and out of Mr. Russell's Butterfly. Another litter was Blucher, Bellman, Bluecap, Bonny-lass and Blameless, by their own old Auditor, and out of their Buxom. Yes, it would make any man proud to have such beauties in his kennel and the way they can fly over a country, and carry a head and scent, are beyond anything that has come under my ken in my day. If any of my brother sportsmen in the south has any doubts on this subject, let him despatch a brace of nags to the "gude auld town o' Cupar," where he will find comfortable quarters, both for biped and quadrupeds, at M'Nab's hotel; and we can assure him that he will find a first-rate pack of hounds, a good country, a most clever huntsman to show him sport, and some good men and true to pick up acquaintance with, and none more worthy than the master of the hounds. After a thorough inspection of the kennel we found our way to the stables, and saw some 12 or 14 good nags, many of them purchased at long figures, as Walker does not stick at a good price when he finds the material to suit him. And where, we will ask, can be found a more perfect specimen of what a hunter should be than his horse Nimrod is?—all but thorough-bred, and as strong of bone as a cart-horse; as quiet as a lamb, and a most beautiful animal in every way: a child may ride him. All the others are good, and have been selected with great care; but we shall not tarry here to particularize them, but hasten on to the end of our paper at the best pace possible, and have done with it; for I can assure you, kind reader, that it is no mean task to ride the "old grey goose" thus far.

Monday, 29th.-As we strolled through Cupar, old Daddy Frost had put his iron foot on the ground, and we fancied we were in for a ten days' frost at least; and at 11 P.M., when we went to our kennel for the night, it was freezing quite hard; but behold our pleasure on the morrow to hear the "soft breeze whistling," and grey clouds crossing the pale face of the moon. At 6 A.M. "Merry John" popped into our bed-room, with a "Come, my lad, get up; breakfast is ready waiting. The morning is everything like hunting. A man has come from the top of the hills, and says that the thaw there is most rapid. Get up; we have 20 miles to go to covert; so we must be on the move early.' After this sermon, who could indulge in blanket-bay? So we were soon ready for the fray. This day the meet was at Dron, in their Perthshire country. There we arrived with the hounds, after a long ride, at 11 A.M.; and after remaining with them, and seeing a whole world of country drawn blank, we left them in the Edinburgh-road, got on to the Aberdeen mail, which set us down in the "fair city" (Perth), and the same evening found our way to the "banks of the Pow."

B.

P.S. Since my return the "Fife" has had some most brilliant sport. On Tuesday, the 7th inst., they had a most brilliant day: 16 miles in one hour and fifteen minutes, and over the cream of their country.

Banks of the Pow, 16th Dec., 1847.

LITERATURE AND FINE ARTS.

HAWBUCK GRANGE; OR, THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF THOMAS SCOTT, Esq. By the author of "Handley Cross; or, the Spa Hunt.” With eight illustrations by Phiz. London: printed for Messrs. Longman and Co., 1847.-This is an old acquaintance under a new name. The volume before us is made up of a series of papers which appeared in a weekly journal some months ago. The writer is a gentleman remarkable for eccentricity of style, and other peculiarities of composition. Mr. Scott, the hero, is a fox-hunting John Bull-according to the conventional reading of the indigenous yeoman, prone to field-sports. The other characters are designated by their proper names. Thus, Muff and Tinhead, and Bletheremskite, and Lord Lionel Lazytongs, and Hobblehot, and Parson Goodman; the towns, Scrapetin and Skinflint, and so forth. The illustrations are very clever. Hawbuck Grange" is a lovely rural homestead; and Lord Lionel Lazytongs, discoursing on hare hunting, a gem. The work is very prettily got up, bound in scarlet, and all as ship-shape as if going to a meet at Bunny or the Rams Head.

ROYAL YACHT SQUADRON SCHOONER, KESTREL; From an original drawing by Mr. Thomas T. Robins. London: Fores, 41, Piccadilly.This is a coloured lithograph, after one of the first of our water-colour artists in the nautical line. The vessel was the property of the late Lord Yarborough, the universally popular commodore of the R.Y.S. She was a model of her class, and in all that related to her purpose facta ad unguem. The painter has drawn her as getting under way in Cowes Roads, abreast of the Squadron House. Around are scattered the Pearl, the Camilla, the Xarifa, the Flirt, and some lesser craft-from their distinguishing colours belonging to the Royal Thames Yacht Club. The group is singularly characteristic, and forms a very elegant sporting marine picture. It is brought out with all care and finish, for which all the works produced by the Messrs. Fores are so remarkable, and is destined to a place in the most honoured nook of many a yachts-man.

PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS OF THE METROPOLIS.

"O, here's to the holly,

That kills melancholy,

And makes the bard merry at festive time;

When old English cheer

Awakes the new year,

And bells at midnight chime."

Forty-eight opens with the star of Momus in the ascendant. In the contest between mirth and melancholy, the gentleman of rollicking notoriety beats his sour-visaged antagonist all to incomprehensible atomry. The

backers of the former-the many lovers of fun-triumph over the silent friends of sorrow. Thus it is that those who affect public amusements eschew Marylebone for more negotiable regions; the merry antics of the clown smacking more of seasonable relish than the wailings of "The Scornful Lady,' ,"" Jane Shore," or Mrs. Haller's

Sentimentalibus, lachrymæ roarem,

And pathos and bathos delightful to see;

And chop and change ribs a-la-mode germanorum,
And high diddle, ho diddle, pop tweedle dee.

To Mons. Jullien we are indebted for placing before a British public a national opera in the most complete form yet attempted. Well may the manager designate it the " Grand Opera;" for such it most unquestionably is entitled to be termed. The orchestra is perfect; and such artistes have never before appeared on the boards of DRURY Lane. The attention to costume is something that no previous manager ever evinced; while the scenery deserves to be mentioned for its extreme accuracy and remarkable arrangement. The house, with its tasteful and superb chandelier, its many decorations, and its crowded audiences, presents a striking contrast to its former dark, dreary, dingy, and dirty state; when few indeed were there besides boxkeepers, supernumeraries, their friends, and venders of fruit, porter, and bills of the play, to behold theblaze of triumph" of Mr. Bunn. Jullien has, indeed, effected wonders. "The Bride of Lammermoor," and Balfe's new Opera, are admirably put upon the stage: the most critical eye cannot but be pleased with the vast amount of attention bestowed throughout. How cheering it is to record the advent of such a singer as Mr. Sims Reeves! a tenor not to be equalled on the English stage. How admirably are his powers put forth in the concluding scene of Lucia!" And then, again, his "Behold the happy home" in the new opera (albeit not so furiously greeted as his "Old arm-chair"), to our thinking is rendered in most melodious manner. Miss Birch has no cause to regret her flight to this country from our neighbour's: her reception must be highly gratifying to her feelings, particularly after the vexatious disappointments she has suffered. This accomplished artist gives the music of the Lady Henriette so well, that we cannot help thinking that her late continental sojourn has had the very reverse effect of impairing her voice. There can be no doubt that she is greatly improved in style since the period of her appearance at metropolitan concerts. Miss Miran and Mrs. Weiss are valuable additions to Mons. Jullien's vocal corps. The former lady has a fine contralto voice, which is judiciously exercised by its fair possessor. In addition to promising much as a singer, Miss Miran bids fair to become, like her sister, an ornament to the stage as an actress: her" Dulcet music! power enchanting!" as Orpheus, in the masque in the third act, is exquisitely given; often and often it is rapturously demarded. Mr. Whitworth has but little to do. Not so with Mr. Weiss, whose rich bass voice is heard to great advantage. Pity 'tis that he is such an awkward actor; one so ungraceful it is difficult to meet. Cannot and will not any of the ladies undertake to give him a proper and efficacious drilling? Malibran made Templeton an actor. We would fain hope that Mr. Weiss is not such a sorry stick but that he would well bear grafting. The composer is undoubtedly entitled to warm and hearty commendations for having produced a work in every way worthy

of the art. Mr. Balfe has nobly acquitted himself in this opera; espe cial praise must be awarded to his concerted pieces: many of these are remarkably brilliant. The music altogether is such that can be listened to only with delight. Long and continued success will attend the career of "The Maid of Honour."

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The attraction of the new opera needs not the adventitious aid of pantomime. Were such not the case, we should regret that this season's harlequinade is not composed of better materiel; for, sooth to say, we must candidly confess there would be very little likelihood of a rush taking place on the part of those anxious to witness "Friar Rush." No doubt Friar Rush, or Harlequin King Gold," is a pantomime greatly improved since the night of our witnessing it-the first night, when machinery and tricks invariably work anything but glibly. The scenery is really most splendid. The manner in which the water is drawn in one of the carly scenes is a perfect gem (of the sea). Then, again, the allegorical device of Shakspeare is beautifully finished; so, indeed, is the heavenly abode of the stars. Of those engaged in the representation it may be said that Columbine is gracefully embodied by Miss Waite; that Harlequin finds an agile personator in Mr. Harvey; and that Messrs. Ridgway and Garden are the Clown and Pantaloon. There's another voice-of which not to make mention would indeed be a great act of omission-and that, too, the voice of a little clever creature sustaining the character of a fairy. Well does she deserve the applause showered upon her. Our ear still rings with the emphatic notes of that tiny dulcet voice.

The "World under Ground" we have not yet explored at the HAYMARKET, the company of which house is good enough to carry any piece, however bad, through. Speed the Plough" is well done here. Farren's Sir Abel Handy is a masterpiece. Mrs. Glover's "What will Mrs. Grundy say?" in Dame Ashfield, is given with all that zest for which that inimitable actress is so renowned. Webster's Farmer Ashfield is a good piece of acting in a line that may be said to belong now exclusively to the present representative. Mrs. Nisbett really appears to improve in her acting every day. Her Lady Teazle is a rich representation, perfect in every particular. Farren's oily and unctuous humour is well displayed in the screen scene. His enjoyment of Joseph Surface's adventure with "the little French milliner" is alone compensation for a visit to the Haymarket.

Mr. Mitchell has spared no exertions in commencing his season of FRENCH PLAYS. The representations have as yet consisted of "Le Reveil Du Lion," "Le Premier Malade," and "Le Chef-D'œuvre Inconnu." The attendance has been distinguished by an array of fashion and nobility. Great preparations are being made for bringing forward in a complete form Antigone," for which Bocage has been especially engaged.

The holiday folks are thronging to ASTLEY'S AMPHITHEATRE, to witness the drolleries and whimsicalities of " Harlequin Doctor Syntax." Where could there be found a better theme for entertainment at Christ mas? Mr. Batty makes the most of the recorded adventures of the celebrated pedagogue. The pantomime is just such a one that juveniles delight especially in-kicks, thumps, bumps, Clown and Pantaloon endure, with that perfect spirit of martyrdom which has for ages dis