than most huntsmen that I have seen, and wonderfully so, forasmuch as he is dull of hearing in one ear. That his lordship never was a "Fred" or an "Augustus" Berkeley over a country (indeed there are not many better to be found than these two younger brothers) all the world knows, which must have somewhat operated against him as a huntsman in the open; but I have reason to believe he has had about as many foxes in his hand as most of his brother-huntsmen of his day. His general average is fifty brace killed, and, last December, in the Cheltenham and Broadway countries, his hounds shewed a succession of sport, rarely excelled in any country, or by any pack. I have only, then, to add my best wishes for a continuance of such good doings, coupled with my conviction that few persons have endeavoured to do more towards promoting and upholding the noble diversion of fox-hunting, than the nobleman of whom I am now speaking.

Exclusive of his splendid stable of horses and large kennel of hounds, Lord Segrave does the whole thing with more than usual spirit. Every night's stop averages £4; and the amount of his annual stopping, in both countries, exceeds the large sum of £400a sum, I should say, unprecedented. He also has recourse, in certain parts of his country, to golden means of preserving his foxes, and those means seldom fail. He puts some loose sovereigns in his pocket, and the chucking one now and then to a watcher, as well as to a keeper, is found to have a most beneficial effect. I have always maintained, that keepers should be paid better than they generally are, for preserving, or, rather, for not killing, foxes; as those animals do certainly operate against their shewing that great head of game which the majority of their employers expect them to shew.

It is somewhat singular, that Lord Segrave is very seldom seen with any hounds but his own. On my asking the Duke of Beaufort if he did not sometimes meet his hounds, when within easy reach? His Grace answered, "Very seldom." It is, in my opinion, an advantage to masters of hounds, occasionally, to see other packs; but I must conclude such is not Lord Segrave's opinion, for, during the many seasons I hunted in Warwickshire, I never saw his lordship with the hounds that hunted that country, save once, and then a curious circumstance occurred. On the fox going away from Walton Wood, all the Warwickshire men took the upper ground at starting, as they were wont to do, it being the generally better line, whereas, Lord Segrave, on Blood Royal, together with his brothers, Frederick and Augustus, sunk the vale at once with the hounds, and were never headed till the pack checked in Wellesbourne Wood, after a beautiful burst over a devilish stiff country. I witnessed this myself.

The name of Berkeley is associated with huntsmen and hounds, through that of the celebrated Tom Oldaker, who commenced his service with the late Earl, by whipping-in his harriers, and afterwards became the huntsman to his foxhounds, when they hunted Mr. Harvey Combe's present country, and the Berkeley Vale, under the appellation of the Old Berkeley Foxhounds.

As may be supposed, the town of Cheltenham, the resort of snobs as as well as nobs of all descriptions, and of all climes, turns out, occasionally, some curious pseudo-sportsmen into the field, and some curious scenes have been the result. One of the former absolutely sent a note to Lord Segrave, to obtain his permission to go out with his hounds on the following day! A second asked him, in the field, if he might, " without impropriety or disrespect towards his lordship and his hounds," betake himself homeward before the sport of the day was concluded? But a third produced the climax. Riding up to Lord Segrave, with his hand in his money pocket, he thus respectfully addressed him :"Your hounds, my lord, have shewn us excellent diversion; allow me to ask your lordship, what is the usual compliment?" The chorus to the song, "Who-whoop boys; who-whoop boys! Give Joe your half-crowns," was, no doubt, this idiot's text; and if my memory serves me, the word "idiot" was applied to him by the master of the pack, and well applied too.

This reminds me of another anecdote of a master of foxhounds and a snob-a sort of person for whom masters of foxhounds have no great respect. "You shewed us a capital day's sport, yesterday," said one of this fraternity to Mr. Thomas Assheton Smith, when he hunted Leicestershire, " but I am sorry to tell you my horse is dead."

"How

"Oh!"

Really!" said Mr. Smith; "how lucky." lucky!" replied the snob; "how do you make that out, sir?" resumed Mr. Smith, "if he had been a bad horse, he would have tired long before he died, and, in that case, you would not have seen the run!"

The Cheltenham tailor, who, for so many seasons, followed Lord Segrave's hounds on foot, is now done up. Human nature will seldom stand long against such freaks as walking a score miles to meet hounds in the morning, and returning at night, after running across the country for as many more. When this man dies, I repeat, his body should be examined, to ascertain whence his fine wind and extraordinary endurance of quick action was derived.

After hunting on the Saturday, I walked through the castle with Mr. Craven Berkeley, who was kind enough to relate to me many most interesting particulars of this most extraordinary place, whose turretted and battlemented walls have out-stood the date of time (the antiquity of part of the castle is unknown); and, almost incredible as it may appear, not a stone is at this moment out of its place, from the base of the building itself to the summit of the highest tower. What a treat must a week's visit here be to a person-but such is not my case-who is able to appreciate its value, and who has his soul animated with the recollection of the glorious fame of its former inhabitants and visitors, and the deeds by them performed! Having then acknowledged my inability to do anything like justice to this part of my subject, I will transcribe a letter from a relation of mine, an intimate friend of Lord Segrave, who, it will, I am sure, be admitted, has in a very small space, condensed many interesting particulars respecting the antiquity of this perfectly unique residence-(pardon me, reader, by giving it so tame an appellation), -and in language that at once displays the gentleman and the scholar :

"I willingly send you a few particulars I have collected respecting the old feudal walls of Berkeley, for which I have so much regard, and in which I have spent more time than anywhere else, excepting under my own humble roof.

"The building of the castle is supposed to have been by King Henry II. in the time of King Stephen, whilst the said Henry was Duke of Normandy, in fulfilment of a promise made by him to Robert, the son of Hardinge. The words in the original are :-'Et pepigi primare ibi castellum secundum voluntatem ipsius Roberti.' Now this, I should suppose, could hardly refer to the original and more ancient part of the castle, the keep, which Lysons* thinks may be a modern structure; and it is, besides, upon record, that in 1120, Henry I., with his Queen, spent Easter at Berkeley, with Roger de Berkeley. Where then could the said Roger have entertained his Sovereign and his Queen but at his castle ?

"With regard to the castle itself, as you have lately been over it with so good a cicerone as my friend Craven Berkeley, I perhaps can hardly tell you anything of which you have not been informed, unless, from having gone the tour of it so often, the particulars of some parts of it may be more firmly impressed upon my mind. It contains two chapels, the most ancient of which is that of St. Mary, in the keep; the other of St. John, the Baptist, at the top of the great hall-stairs. Maurice, Lord Berkeley (temp. Edw. III.), obtained of Pope Urban II. forty years of pardon and release of penance to every one who should, in the said chapels, in the festival days of the year, hear masses, or say, kneeling, three aves; or should give vestments, &c., to the said chapels. And whosoever there prayed for the life and good estate of the noble Lord Maurice de Berkeley, and the Lady Elizabeth his wife, for their children, and for the soul of the Lord Thomas, his father, being in purgatory, shall be also released of forty days of the penance enjoined them. St. Mary's chapel is now used to keep all the family documents in, and is not shewn, though I have once been in it. Amongst them are many taken by William, Lord Berkeley, from Wotton, the residence of Lord Lisle, after the battle on Nibley Green, where the last-mentioned lord was killed by an arrow from the bow of Black Will, a brother forester, who fought on Lord Berkeley's side. This battle was fought in 1469 (temp. Edw. IV). John de Trevisa was vicar of Berkeley in 1351, and ornamented the chapel of St. John with black-letter inscriptions from the Bible, of which he was a translator. The kitchen was built by Henry VII., soon after he came into possession, at the death of William, Lord Berkeley, who bequeathed to him, and his heirs male, 'the Hernesse, or honour of Berkeley.' In failure of male line, with Edward VI., it reverted to the Berkeley family, together with the barony, -strong proof that it carries with it that dignity to the possessor. The noble hall was built by Thomas, Lord Berkeley (temp. Edw. III). Formerly, a hundred suits of armour were hung up in this hall, but were carried off by one Captain Forbes, who held the castle for Charles I. Several of our monarchs have been entertained in this hall, amongst them William the Conqueror, by Roger de Berkeley in 1650. The bed in the great state room was put up for James I. ; that in the little state room for Richard III!"

My correspondent adds this question, in a postscript:-How would you, as a Latinist, construe the words "firmare castellum?"-" Might they not imply to fortify, or strengthen by new works, as well as to * I need scarcely add that my friend here alludes to the Rev. Mr. Lysons, author of the History and Antiquities of Gloucestershire.

build, a castle?" I answer-undoubtedly they may, and on the authority of Livy, "Urbem, antè naturâ munitam, præsidiis firmare." The sole difference here, is in the means taken to strengthen an already fortified place.

One of the most interesting apartments in this castle, as associated with early recollections and the doings of the present day, is, what is called, the grand hall; in which, though stripped of the armour, there still remain sundry family trophies. In this hall, also, does the present possessor of the castle dines twice a year with his tenants, on their rent-day; and, when lighted up in the evening, it presents a scene certainly unequalled by any other in the kingdom. The family mausoleum is likewise a highly interesting object, both as regards its monuments and their inscriptions; and some of the emblematical devices are of a very extraordinary kind. For example-there is a fox preaching to geese; typical, I should presume, of one of two things, namely, either of a crafty priest imposing upon the unlettered simplicity of his congregation; or, of the great enemy of mankind making himself agreeable to his victims, that he may more easily betray, and, after a time, get possession of them. The kitchen is likewise one of the curiosities of this castle, and undoubtedly belongs to very remote antiquity. But modern epicures insist upon it that its form is perfect for its purpose, being so narrow that a cook can be on both sides of it in the twinkling of an eye, and thus never out of reach of his stew-pans. It is of immense height, and, consequently, never very hot, despite of numerous fires.

The mention of the kitchen reminds me of two peculiarities in the dinner arrangements of Berkeley Castle. After the manner of Lucullus, the Roman, the room in which dinner is served is regulated by the number of the guests; and of these rooms there are three, besides the grand hall. Should the number not exceed four, the small dinner room is made use of; if eight, the middle-sized one; and if more than eight, the large one-the Hall of Apollo-which is very handsome indeed. Then, again, there is a rule, alike never deviated from, as regards the furnishing the table; and this is, that there shall be an entire course of fish-three sorts of sea fish, which arrive daily from London, and the fourth from his lordship's fishery on the Severn, which extends for sixteen miles. The quantity of fish served up has no reference to guests; a like quantity is dressed every day when the lord of the castle is at home; and I one day witnessed one more dish of fish than there were persons to partake of it. This may be called profusion, but it is not so, where the means of the host to display it are equal to the expenses of it. It has an appearance worthy of the walls within which it occurs; has an English-noblemanlike appearance, if such an expression may be allowed me; is good for trade; and, after all, when servants are eating fish they are not eating flesh; and, of course, it makes its appearance in their hall the next day, made palatable by the direction of Monsieur Guerin, an artist of class the first.

The beds, in which James I. and Richard III. slept, are still in an admirable state of preservation, and likely to hold together another century at least. When gazing on these invaluable relics, I could not help speculating upon what might have been the dreams, or "visions strange" that may have disturbed the repose of these English kings-the one a fool, the other a murderer-in chambers little calculated, from their style of furniture, to compose the mind by lively impressions, still less to lull the compunctions of a terrified conscience. Neither is the room in which I myself lay, during this visit to the castle, exactly suited to every one's nerves; and I think his lordship had a mind to put mine to the test. It is called the dungeon room-not exactly that in which the dungeon is, but the one adjoining it; and during the hours of darkness is thus approached :-A footman, with a torch, leads the way across the court, to a stone stairs, of God knows how many steps, which he ascends. He then enters a short passage with more steps, leading the occupier of the dungeon room into the keep, and across the keep is the dungeon room door. "Does any one sleep on this side the castle?" inquired I of the footman, on the third night of my occupying this room. "No one very near," was the reply; but I found, on the first morning, that I had eight wild geese for my neighbours, who, having been winged by Lord Segrave at different times, are domiciled in the keep; and whose discordant note, had it been audible during the night, might perhaps have been mistaken for one of Edward's "shrieks." But nothing of this sort will disturb my repose, especially after a day's sport with hounds, a good dinner, and something short of a bottle of the very best Bourdeaux. I have sundry times had reason to be afraid of the living, but am in no apprehension of the dead; being well convinced, that in profane history, despite of what Dr. Johnson and others have assumed to the contrary, there is not a single well-attested fact of a supernatural appearance, nor indeed of preternatural intelligence of any coming event. It may, however, be well that the minds of the vulgar should not be disabused on these points. As a clever writer says, when speaking of such impulses: -" Do not wholly slight them, because they may be true; but do not easily trust them, because they may be

false."

The posts of the bed I slept in are supposed to have been of the time of Edward III., and chiefly remarkable for having one very large embossment on each of those at the foot, about three parts down them, shewing that they must have been cut out of a thick trunk of oak. The end of these embossments, independent of ornament, is not easy to divine, unless it be to remind those who have occasion to pass by them, that they are not immortal, by just catching them under the short ribs, as they did me more than once - themselves being hidden by the swell of the curtains that overhang them. This room, however, is a most comfortable one to those who fear neither ghosts nor goblins; and the one adjoining to it, which I peeped into, fit for a prince to inhabit.

"But the dungeon-what is this dungeon?" methinks I hear some of my readers exclaim. It is quite a small chamber, at one end of which is a small, and, of course, very seedy-looking green bed; and, about the centre of the room, on a trap-door being lifted up, the dungeon appears. It has the resemblance of a dry well of ordinary diameter, but its depth is extraordinary, as Mr. Craven Berkeley shewed me, by having a lantern, with a lighted candle in it, at the end of I know not how many fathoms of cord, gently dropped to the bottom; and what is most extraordinary of all, the bottom is per