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Wild Coasts of Nor-wich-iana,” and without even the usual "allowance to travellers." Few of my fellow cits would dream that the quaint customs described, and the quainter expressions, were actually extant within a few miles of their smut-begrimed noses. As to the dialect, or vulgar tongue, of the natives, I'll "pound," i. e. I'll bet, that not all the acumen of a Porson, nor the labour of a Johnson, could ever reduce to paper their glossary, or their grammar ;—no, never.

My time being limited to a week, one of my first cares was to look out for a decent nag or two, to enable me to peep at the different establishments. I, fortunately, lighted on a very civil and (rara avis) a very fairish horse-dealer, who mounted me, at a price, well. As such are scarce, it is but right that his name, Thomas Gould, of Swaffham, should be noticed; and I doubt not, from the wide circulation of your admirable REVIEW, that such notice may benefit him. I have seldom entered a quieter yard; whilst the total absence of ginger and swearing (two stimulants much in vogue here), added to the business-like and civil demeanour of the men, enable gentlemen to look at the stud, without that feeling of contamination which the contact with a country horse-dealer too frequently engenders. The nags are of a very good stamp, quite suited to the country, and generally weight-carriers. Fortunately for him, the squirearchy live lustily, and come well to scale. I could name two or three whose corporation, over three miles of fallow, would tame the most determined runaway; but that would be invidious-so e'en let it pass. If Tom Gould has a failing, it is his universal protestation, in an ascending scale of voice, that each screw is "the very best fencer and the grandest galloper he ever saw-bar none;" an asseveration familiar to every "Norfolker" who reads these pages. My first visit was to the Villebois kennel, near Swaffham. The hounds are gathered together" with much care, and there is that attention to regularity of size and breeding that might be expected from a descendant of the H. H. The horses are numerous, and decidedly superior, chiefly of the heavy sort. Bullfinch, Topthorne, and some others, whose names I did not note, shewed vast power and symmetry; but as price is no object, of course he has first-raters.

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On Monday, the inst., I met the Norfolk foxhounds; a subscription pack under the direction of Lord Sondes. No expense seems to have been spared about these hounds, for the most part of full size, and strong. I recognised some old acquaintances, drafts from the numerous packs which have lately gone to the dogs." Scarcely five couples bear the same brand. The Lowther, the Quorn, the Donington, the Wyndham, besides many of less celebrity, have furnished their quota. Perhaps it is unfair to be hypercritical on a young turn out; but, certainly, one or two "leetle" alterations might beneficially be suggested. I say this under correction, for I am no sportsman, and only judge by what I have seen with the Quorn and elsewhere. For instance, if Chapelow, the huntsman, would not whistle quite so much, -if Brett, the second-whip, would not holloa quite so much, but leave that to the huntsman aforesaid,-if the hounds would not breakfast off hare quite so much; and, finally, if the whole establishment would (only occasionally) trot in making their cast, instead of that eternal

walking, quite so much;-why then the result would be that so many foxes would not be headed and mobbed,—so many people would not go home sulky; whilst, moreover, the hard-riding squires (of whom more presently) would stand a chance of getting six runs where they now get none ! The horsing is done by contract. I cannot say much for the mount. Radical and Juliet appeared the best of the lot; but there is a slovenliness in the toute ensemble that is painfully striking. Lord Sondes is a popular M. F. H., and a good rider. Sir Jacob Astley is splendidly mounted; so are Sir R. Sutton, Messrs. Bloomfield, &c. Mr. Sandiford, on Spot; Mr. J. Browne, on President; Mr. Bagge, on Jonathan; Mr. Watson, on Lucas; and Mr. Newton, struck me as forward riders, and likely to live in any country. Amongst the yeomen, John Brown, of Norton, an eighteen stone man, is always well horsed, and at the tail of the hounds. He is decidedly one of the best sportsmen I saw out, excepting that he will holloa to, and attempt to hunt the hounds. He breeds, makes, and sells some very superior hunters. If the grey gelding he bestrode that day was of his own backing, it does him credit. Old Denny, an octogenarian, was pointed out to me as a "knowing hand." The hunt have paid him the compliment of painting his likeness by subscription. few miscellaneous millers, grocers, farriers, and "such like," completed the field; for, in Norfolk, the amor venandi runs through all classes. Without discussing if the "such like" are better behind their counters, attending to their customers, or larking on their market nags, I may suggest that they should ride straight, or at least leave the way open to those who will. On this occasion, I observed three of the fraternity simultaneously in a mess. The miller lay in a ditch; the veterinary was on his horse's ears; whilst the grocer was speculating on the probability of a rise in ginger, or of a charitable friend stopping his Rosinante. There is no doubt that the Norfolk foxhounds will, with due attention, become, if not a first-rate, at least a creditable pack. No expense is spared; the country is wide, and the farmers disposed to preserve. With such materials it will be their own fault if they lag behind the march of improvement.

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It is pleasant to be able to praise instead of criticise; and, therefore, with due and unqualified pleasure, I turn to the crack little establishment of W. R. Sandiford, Esq., of Colkirk. His house is a sportsman's all over; his stables (of which there is one for eight) are perfect models, and tenanted by such a collection of first-raters as made my mouth water. President (for whom Anderson bid £300); Longwaist, winner of the Norfolk steeple-chase, and, if I mistake not, an ugly customer for the next Liverpool; Conynghame, of well-known celebrity; Jonathan and Spot, with some dozen others, are worth a hundred miles' ride to see. His hounds (dwarf fox) give the most rattling cheerful runs, as I can testify; whilst the hospitality of his board is too well known for me to more than advert to. The whole establishment, including house, offices, stables, kennels, &c., stands on a small patch of ground, and is one of the most compact of its kind I have ever seen. Mr. Sandiford himself is a quiet, good sportsman; and if ever Lord Sondes retired from the management of the Norfolk foxhounds, it could not be intrusted to better hands than the master of

Colkirk. "I guess he would soon," as the Yankees say, "make 'em go slick a-head, and keep moving."

My limits do not allow me to enter into many details of his stud, to which there is "a stable of ease," at Sennowe Hall (rented of the Hon. F. Wodehouse). Oliver Twist, a strong country race-horse, and now in training for steeple-work, as well as several hunters, for whom there is no room at Colkirk, find snug berths in the ample boxes and stalls of this aristocratic mansion. The preserves are amply stored with game, and, through the kindness of their hospitable owner, I enjoyed there one excellent day's pheasant-shooting: about eighty head killed and twenty lost, besides an innumerable quantity missed. I have scarcely mentioned the hounds, because, as harriers, they would not merit praise, being irregular both in size and breed. "Going the pace" is their forte, and, evidently, they are selected with a view to speed, rather than any other quality. However, they seldom put up a hare, on a tolerable scenting-day, but she falls before them; whilst a spirit of emulation amongst the field, arising from the intimacy of the table, often causes some desperate riding. Christopher Green, who whips to Mr. Sandiford, is as good across country as in racing; which is a rare combination in a jockey. J. Browne, Esq., the son-in-law, has the deserved reputation of being a very superior workman.

At Swaffham, whither I wended my way on Friday, the 15th of November, on as bright a day as this melancholy climate can afford, a very animated sight greeted me. Hundreds of graceful hounds, in their tiny clothing-their pointed muzzles and wiry legs just peeping out-(the clothing itself of every hue and pattern, ciphered and coronetted) the dogs straining against their slips, and almost pulling over their keepers; carriages, with many a fair dame; and horses, with many a fat squire-the fat squires looking knowing, and rushing about, breathless, headed by the worthy owner of Westacre, Mr. Hammond, whose anxiety to shew sport does him infinite credit :-these, with the racing dogs and panting jades, formed a truly animated picture. I confess that my cockney prejudices, in favour of the "weaker side," made me look, with some little disgust, on two long-limbed, welltrained animals, running down so small an object as a hare. The odds were so fearfully uneven, that I could scarcely feel any enjoyment in the momentary course. However, the hares had ample law; and far fewer were killed than I had anticipated, as they found shelter in a cover, at top of the hill. Inclosed is a list of the running, which, if worth insertion, pray insert: if not, suffice it that the winner of the Cup is Mealman, a dog belonging to Lord Stradbroke; and the value of the stakes is £100-more or less. It is calculated the expense of each brace of dogs is twelve pounds per annum, and as it is necessary to keep many brace, amusement is sought rather than profit. The country is exceedingly open-plains of vast extent surround you on every side; and a spectator may sit in a carriage, or on a tree (according to his circumstances), and see all the (so called) "sport." The meeting was wound up by a ball, with many a pretty face spoiled by unprecedented head-dresses, or tawdry finery. Oh! for a Spanish hood, with its dark frame "bringing out," as the artists say, a sweet English countenance! Oh! for a Maridan Carson, a Privat, a Mel

notte, and a Nathir, to have "got up" some of those Saxon beauties! Ye country belles! little do ye know what ravages ye would make, if divested of your provincial dowdiness, and turned out by such artistical hands as these. If ye are killing now, what would ye be then? It is too much to contemplate, even in thought.

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A few observations on their sports in general, and I must conclude. First, as a game county, it is, if I may credit the veterans, decidedly inferior to what it was some twenty years since. Many reasons are assigned the new law-the system of drilling, instead of broadcast, by which sound is conveyed more easily along the right lines, consequently, making birds less approachable-mowing wheat and barley, whereby all shelter is at once removed; and so general is this practice, that Lords Leicester, Charles Townshend, Cholmondeley, Suffield, and others, are obliged to stipulate in their leases that a certain number of acres must have stubble of a certain length. From these, or whatever cause it may arise, the fact is indisputable, that game is not onethird as generally plentiful in Norfolk as it used to be. Perhaps nowhere are better harriers and greyhounds. Large plains, and the absence of proper fox-covers, have assisted in the development of hare-hunting in every form. This may account for the boisterous conduct of the farmers with hounds, to which they are unaccustomed, and which require peculiar stillness, and freedom from all pressure. Generally speaking, Norfolk men are so fond of sport, that I am certain, if it were once properly impressed on their minds, viz.-that foxhounds do require to be let alone do require to have room to make their casts, with a certain allowance of space behind them, in case they overrun the scent-that if any assistance is wanted, the servants of the hunt are there to give it-and (which, perhaps, will have more weight) that by riding so forward, and shouting, and such like "pranks before high heaven," they do spoil their own sport, and will finally knock up the whole concern :-I say, if they consider this, why, perhaps they would be more reasonable. My Lord Sondes is evidently a very gentlemanly, good-natured, nobleman; but that's not enough for an M. F. H., especially with a subscription pack. They want Assheton Smith one season amongst them-he would soon d—n them and their subscriptions, too, if they rated, cheered, hunted, and whipped to his dogs. I heard Lord Sondes remark, with an air of quiet disgust, in the midst of the hubbub occasioned by a fox attempting to " go away" (for no fox can break cover in face of a score of burly yeomen), "There are, really, too many huntsmen." Yes, my lord; but why allow it? For what are you master? Would you not faint if a Meltonian did so? Then, why not whip off, and go home, until they did behave? I am, perhaps, unjust: it is easier to criticise than to do well; and, doubtless, the task must not be over palatable to break in these yeomen-squires, who have, for six seasons, ridden at, over, and before, the hounds, with impunity. The dogs themselves seem so accustomed to it, at least the old dogs, that if the "telegraph" is not constantly at work, they throw up at once. It might have been fancy, but I cannot help thinking that I saw a recent importation from the Quorn give a sly leer at a co-recent arrival from Donington (when all this "confusion worse confounded" was going on)—a sort

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of leer, which spoke as plainly as a dog could speak, "Take it easy, old fellow; won't you hare with me to-day?"

Monday, partridge-shooting; Tuesday, Villebois staghounds; Wednesday, the Norfolk foxhounds; Thursday, a pheasant battue ; Friday, the cup-day, at Swaffham; Saturday, the C. H., or Colkirk harriers; and Sunday, back to dingy London-there to ruminate on the delights of a country life, and to curse my stars that, instead of letting me plod at the ink-stained desk (whose every blot could tell a tale), they had not provided me some ten thousand a-year wherewith to cleanse my way. However, they won't twinkle a bit the brighter for my upbraidings; in fact, I think them "fixed stars." e'en be content, and reflect with pleasure on this well-spent walk.

So I will

But do let me, before I conclude this hasty notice, acknowledge that in no county is there more genuine hospitality, whether at the lordly mansion, the wealthy dwellings of Lord Leicester's tenantry, or at the small farm; pull up, in short, where the sportsman may,the board is spread, the cheerful fire roused, the cordial welcome given,—with a natural ease, and a desire to content the guests, which is truly delightful.

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I bid them a long farewell :-perchance, at the close of the season, may run down for one more week ;" and gratified I shall be to find these "hints" accceptably received, and to write you an account entirely free from "noxious criticism." Vale!-Vale!

MEMS OF MESS.

Second Series.

AN AMATEUR.

FYTTE THE SECOND. THE WISH.

FAME! Honour! Glory! say, are these the springs
That move the strange machinery of life?

Is it for glory that the sailor wings

His pilgrimage, with toil and danger rife?
Is it for fame the man of metre wrings

Reluctant cantos from the muse's strife-
Nobly disdaining (beer and bread being plenty)
Thy heav'n of heav'ns, O! dolce for niente?

Young, ardent, sweet enthusiasts! who deem
Honour the essence with which life is fraught?
Regarding all things, even as they seem

In the bright hues from your own spirits caught:
Methinks I scarce could wake ye from your dream,

But that the lore might be more rudely taught.
Say, then-you hold the hero fights for glory?—
'Tis so?-permit me to narrate a story.

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