H It was a splendid morning in June-one of those charming daybreaks which delighted an early riser, so frequently, during the last month, when my slumbers were broken by a loud and incessant ringing at the bell. What could be the reason of this disturbance at the early hour of five, I was at a loss to conjecture, as I raised myself from my pillow to make certain that I was not labouring under some somnian delusion. More wakeful than the other inmates I speedily arose, and opening the window, called to the assailant of my rest, when a sturdy youth of the hybrid genus, something between a rustic and a stable-boy, presented himself among the shrubs, and informed me he had brought a letter from his master. By this time a servant had been aroused by the unusual disturbance, and proceeded to the door. At such a crisis divers imaginations flash across the mind-curiosity is excited; hopes and fears occur in rapid succession. Who can it be from? for I did not recognize the messenger as having been in the service of any of my acquaintances, and was about to address him in the words of Hamlet on the appearance of his father's ghost. But it was not the favourite period for apparitions or housebreakers: it was broad daylight; and the sun, considerably above the horizon, was shining brilliantly. What on earth can it mean? was my soliloquy, as I paced to the door of my bedroom to meet my servant with the important missive. Has some generous mortal departed this life, and left me a fortune? no such luck; or has some intimate friend engaged in deadly combat, and requires my attendance as his second? No; that cannot be, for duelling is out of fashion; and all such thoughts were banished on reading the superscription the moment the note came into my hands, when I immediately recognized the hieroglyphics of one of the best-tempered fellows in the world, and the last likely to be engaged in such an unpleasant affair. The crumpled envelope indicated the rural character of the messenger. The contents soon ended my suspense. "Oakshade House, June 24th. "My dear Cecil, "I am engaged to play in the match to-morrow between the Markwell and the Scoreall elevens, and hope you will accompany me. At any rate, I shall call and break my fast with you at nine. I could not give you earlier intelligence, from reasons which I will explain when we meet. "Yours ever. "JACK Early enough in all conscience! thought I-breakfast at nine, and now it is only five! whatever can I do with myself all this time? I can commence my toilet at eight. I like to enjoy myself on that occa sion, especially in hot weather-take a cold bath-have a deliberate shave in the cool of the morning-compare one's thoughts, and lay a quiet foundation for the day; whereas, if you rise from bed in haste, dress in haste, and commence with confusion, the temper and the temperature both become excited, and nothing goes kindly. But there were nearly three hours during which some occupation must be devised. It soon occurred to me that I would sit down and indite something to these pages incidental. May, par excellence, is styled the "merrie month." Wherefore should it take precedence of June in any other sense than the order in which it stands in the calendar? Poets and compilers of almanacs of olden days characterised May as the period of flowers and rural perfumes; but they must have gained their experience in a climate warmer, less fickle, and earlier than this; or, peradventure, when the brains of our forefathers became inspired with such phantasies, the seasons were more precocious. The modest blossom of the hawthorn, the poetical decoration of the Mayday queen, is very seldom in flower till the end of the month; and if our gardens are luxuriant with gay decorations, most assuredly the president of the horticultural department has availed himself of the assistance of the hot-house. Of all the months of the year-those of the hunting-season, when the cheering notes of hounds and horn dispel all cares and gloom, being excepted-June is the most enchanting. Nature has finished her toilet, put on her best attire, and every adornment she is capable of sustaining, and the fairest of her creation following so excellent an example, have been to London to replenish their wardrobes. Antecedent to this, the gay flower that one day looks blooming, on the next looks drooping from the effects of a nocturnal frost. And there is another apt comparison. The delicate, lovely woman, induced by the faithless attraction of a Mayday sun, goes forth in her lightest habiliments; when the evening becomes overcast and chilly; she takes a cold, and like the beauteous flower, she droops, perchance she fades and dies. In June the garments of the fair sex and the garments of Nature are truly harmonious: there is not a tree that is not in full foliage. The aristocratic horse-chestnut, crowded with gay blossoms, imparts an air of dignity and stately pride; of more humble growth, the lilac and laburnum present an agreeable variety: beneath these the rosy rhododendron, the prince of evergreens, expands its graceful flowers; "The sweet syringa, yielding but in scent sends forth on the morning breeze its delightful fragrance. The ancient oak, sovereign of the woods, patriarch of the parks, and when afloat the guardian of our shores, which a few weeks before presented a heterogenous complication of sombre stalwart limbs and knotty branches, has now assumed a full costume of staple green. The elm, the greatest rival of the oak, is in fine vigour ; while the larch and pine, having shot out their new wood, shed a refreshing tint over the copse, as the morning sun rises, to give a glowing effect to the surrounding scenery. Nearer home the new-shorn lawn appears like a carpet of green velvet, and the well-arranged flower beds in various fantastic devices bespeak the enchanting taste of the fair hand which presides over them, inspiring the heart with admiration and respect for one whose anxious care is to impart happiness to all around. The unassuming sweet-scented mignonette is just coming into blossom, and, aided by the morning dew, emits a freshness and a fragrance unequalled by any other flower. The deep crimson carnation also shows its petals, and the honeysuckle almost rivals the perfume of the mignonette; the sweet-pea too, if fostered with care, begins to effuse its odour; roses of various hues, from the delicate white to the deep crimson, grace the flower-beds and lawn, pouring forth their share of sweetness. The heartsease-may it surround every dwelling, rich and poor-adds charms by variety. The snap-dragon is gorgeous and graceful; and the sweet-william, emblematic perhaps in name of some favoured swain, is cherished with the greatest care. "Far from the busy haunts of men," there is a quietude reigning early on a summer's morning, quite inspiring; and yet all Nature appears to be on the alert, ushering in the day, and preparing for her avocations. The shrill clink of the whetsone on the scythe proclaims the mowers at their work; and when three or four of them are whetting their scythes with measured cadence, a sound by no means displeasing falls upon the ear. This is the effect of combination; a tone which in itself is harsh and grating, becomes "a concord of sweet sounds." As are those dulcet sounds in break of day, The landrail screeching in the growing corn or mowing grass tempts a removal of the gun from its resting place, and try if old Carlow can find him at all times a very difficult task, and generally a vain endeavour; for although he has proclaimed his hiding-place, by the time you have hastened to the spot he has run a hundred yards and left but a transient scent upon his track. The only chance is to circumvent him, and that is not easily accomplished; but he is really delicious eating when he can be bagged. Nightingales are silent at this season of the year, and indeed at every other season after break of day. How many sonnets have been written on this sweet songster! Like many other subjects when once brought to notice by the ebullitions of poetical effusions, the exordiums oftentimes exceed the merit. Not that I would detract from the applause due to these welcome songsters of the spring; but there are others equally deserving of admiration, which surely cannot be forgotten. The woodlark claims especial regard; and so thought the ancients, as we find the name "acredula" used to signify either of these accomplished warblers. The song of the skylark is scarcely less imposing: there is a vivacity in his notes surpassing those of the pensive nightingale "Mærens philomela," as Virgil terms him. Whenever I hear any of them, it reminds me of a very jovial evening I spent in Herefordshire the summer before last. So agreeably had the time run on, that none of the party had the slightest conception of the hour; and on emerging from the house, the break of day had but the semblance of bright moonlight. That luminary being a few days past the full, was gradually descending towards the horizon as though retiring to her chamber, modestly receding from the rising sun, who had not yet made his appearance; but, like ambassadors of state, his rays came forth to announce his approach, and mingling with the pale tints of the declining moon, produced those soft, sweet beams of light, which must be seen to be admired. "What a splendid night!" exclaimed one of the party, and listen. ing, "How delightfully the nightingale is singing!" "Rather say morning," rejoined another, straining his eyesight on the dial of his watch, where he could just distinguish that it was after three. The chorister was warbling most splendidly: the notes seemed to proceed more from the heavens than from the woodlands. It was neither a nightingale nor woodlark, but a skylark soaring over our heads, making his orisons to the break of day, in lively, tuneful cadence. "See how the morning opes her golden gates, At this season of the year the wood-pigeon has ceased his mockery and left off his "Taffy, take two cows;" but the impudent vagabond has not profited by his own sarcasms, for he has levied contributions on my peas, and my vengeance can only be appeased by the insertion of a few leaden peas under his wing. The comical cuckoo has just flown past the window, crying, in haste, " Cuck-cuck-cuck-cuck!" but without finishing the expression, as if he had set his utterance agait, and could not restrain it. June is assuredly the month of rural fragrance: the hay-rick and the wild honeysuckle, with sweetbriar united, may safely enter the lists with the most consummate laboratory of perfumes. The clock strikes eight and bids me to the dressing room. Fare thee well, kind reader, for the nonce, while I take a cold bath and then prepare myself for the remainder of the day. A stroll in the garden, and the selection of the most attractive blossom of a geranium to adorn my button-hole occupied a few minutes; but my friend did not arrive, so the Dorkings were honoured with a matutinal visit. Presently my old terrier threw his tongue the more quickly than he heard a warning. It was the distant note of the horn which my friend usually has with him in his dog-cart. In a few seconds he was in sight, with a companion seated by his side, whose identity I could not determine, neither had he intimated his intention of bringing any one with him; but whoever it might be, he was a most welcome guest. Jack was driving tandem; and on pulling up at the door his leader turned short round, seemingly disposed to make an unceremonious entry at the breakfast-room window, which stood invitingly open. No doubt he mistook it for a nicely-arranged loose box, prepared for his reception. The alacrity of an active boy, always prepared for such emergencies, prevented any misadventure; for anticipating the manoeuvres of the horse, he was descending from the hind seat and on his feet before the carriage had stopped, and was at the leader's head just at the nick of time. Having alighted, my friend Jack introduced me to his companion, Mr. Welton. By repute I knew him well, and was most proud to make his acquaintance, for he was a gentleman of considerable fame in the sporting world, one who appreciates the varieties incident to the seasons with great enthusiasm, but his history must be deferred for the present. "Our friend Jack has got a nice turn-out," said my newly-formed acquaintance to me; "his vehicle is perfection, and so indeed is the leader in point of symmetry, action, and temper, but he possesses one very great fault for this occupation-he has an exceedingly light mouth, so much so that with all the skill with which he is handled he will scarcely face the bit, although driven to the cheek. The very slightest touch turns him, and that sometimes occasions difficulties; for when a leader's traces are slackened, together with the reins, all command is lost." "Would he not go better," I observed, "if he were driven from the upper bar with a very loose curb chain? I have often found these light-mouthed horses will face their bits better in that way than they will at the cheek, or even with a snaffle; of course there must not be any port to the bit, and the curb so adjusted that it only just touches the chin when the reins are drawn. It will induce many horses to keep their heads down." "We will try your plan, Mr. Cecil," said Jack, "when we start again; so come, let us have our breakfasts without loss of time, as we have none to spare." Mr. Welton has been introduced as a sportsman well-known to fame; one of those decided characters that whatever he undertakes he will do well, and quickly alive to every agent that may assist him in the attainment of superiority. As a cricketer he is thoroughly aware of the importance of condition, consequently cautious at all times not to indulge his appetite with unsuitable viands. There are many who repudiate such restrictions, and will declare they would forego participating in such amusements rather than deprive themselves of whatever appetizing fare may be placed before them. A man who has not been accustomed to strong exercise absolutely requires preparation before he engages in the exertion consequent upon a cricket match, or of any other diversion in which the powers of the body are called into such strong and continuous labour. In fact, all those who excel make a point of scrupulously attending to their condition. It subjects them to some privations, it must be admitted; but they produce advantages more than equivalent. The exertions attendant upon a long innings are very great, and often distressingly so; but they are much more severe if the cricketer is in a plethoric state, parched with thirst, and depressed with exhaustion. Practice at the game will to a great extent bring a player into condition, but it must be accompanied with due respect to regimen. Training for this purpose in many respects differs from the ordeal of wasting, though the preliminary observances may with great propriety be brought into effect. When it is required to reduce the weight, much abstinence from nutritive diet is imperative; but if the object is to render the person in a state to bear great fatigue with the utmost freedom of the lungs and the muscles, it is obviously necessary to take those kinds of food which are substantial, easy of digestion, and not calculated to produce thirst. A rasher of bacon at breakfast may, |