lain dormant, been in the hands of Messrs. Paxton, Cubit, or Stevenson, or others, it would have been employed; and now, instead of £60,000, would have been £120,000. And further, no doubt the owner of these holds it he enjoys his pets without expense. He certainly does enjoy them without outlay, as "they do not eat." But taking the moderate rate of ten per cent. in the employment of money, the £60,000 being unemployed, he is virtually paying £6,000 a year for his whistle; which, if mine, I allow should go to a merrier tune, and I hope not a very ungentlemanly one either. I think I remember something about a publican and a sinner; no one could of course defend the latter, but I think something was said of the other. I am, I cannot deny it, the sinner; query, who is the publican?

They say "it is easy to find a stick to beat a dog." The fact of this learned aphorism is only comparative. It is easy enough if you are close to a hedge or coppice, but not quite so easy in the middle of Salisbury Plain. And, again, if it is easy to find the stick, it may not be easy to beat the dog; for if he is a bold one he wont stand it, and you will get the worst of the attempt; if he is a timid one he will take to his scrapers, and cut. Whistle you may, but the tune should be" Off she goes." The good-natured dog will do neither; he will not savage you for a little attempted correction; his pluck is too good to make him run away, but he will probably bolt between your legs and throw you on your back; be angry with him if you can. May I hope under the little correction the worthy collector gave me, he will allow me to be the latter animal-a dog, and a sinner. Well, I hold it better to be these than an ill-conditioned devil who cannot take a joke, or a fool who cannot, or will not, allow superior merit in others where it exists.

So much has not only been written, but proved, as to the advantages hunting spreads over the country where it is carried on, that they require no notice here; but we will just allude to its expense to those pursuing it. To specify what this is in any precise way would be impossible; for it of course depends on the extent to which it is carried, the situation of the person joining in it, and no little on the kind of man who hunts.

To the man who resides in the country, and keeps riding-horses, hunting may be considered as no expense at all; for whether he rides on the road for health, or with hounds for sport, it creates little or no increase in expense. The man who keeps additional horses as hunters knows at once the expense of these; but there are others who cannot closely calculate their outlay. For instance, the man who hunts from London must keep his horses at livery in the country, or hire stabling ; and further, he has expenses in his journeys, and expenses at inns. Bad riders, bad judges of horses, and bad managers of them, hunt at a great expense, from various circumstances. The only wonder is that such men should hunt at all, unless they are beginners. The man who thoroughly understands what he is about hunts at very little expense, if he chooses to avail himself of his knowledge, by parting with his horses when a good offer is made him; for the horses of a good and bold rider are always in request. They must be good, or such men would not ride them. Some of them might be difficult or resolute to ride, and would not snit other men; but good performers they must be, or will be made so

in such hands. I therefore warn the man who hunts not to be certain he gets a nag he can ride in the first flight, because he has gone there with the hunting man: his horse may be purchased-his nerve, hands, and head he keeps for other purposes. What? To make horses to sell to gentlemen who hunt.

We will now look a little at the turf, and those who make that their pursuit, instead of hunting, and endeavour not to let prejudice for or against either pursuit, or those following it, influence any ideas we may form.

There are men who hunt, but pay no attention to racing further than going for a day's recreation to a race-meeting in their immediate neighbourhood. There are men keeping race-horses, who never hunt; and men zealous in both pursuits. Of the two first characters, I must, in one particular at least, award the palm to the latter. The racing man has no dislike to the hunting one; but, speaking generally, the regular hunting man looks on the racing one with about the same kindly feeling as the huntsman to a pack of foxhounds regards a cry of beagles crossing his line, or a party of shooters in a cover he intends to draw. The hunting man, disguise it as he may, looks on the racing one as a shark-with what reason, it would be uncourteous to even hint at. This much we must in candour admit the incentive of the hunting man is amusement and sport; that of nineteen in twenty of racing men is gain, or, at all events, the hope of it. It may be said or thought that, as it is a well-known fact that race-horses (taking the average) cannot pay their expenses, if a man desires gain only, he would not keep them. Such reasoning would be as fallacious as the principle is true. I have in other places stated that no moderate race-horse, fairly run, can be made to pay his expenses, in a public training stable, and under the ordinary circumstances in which race-horses are kept; but I never said an extraordinary or uncommonly good horse will not pay. I have not even said a moderate one will not pay under peculiar circumstances, if run fairly. Still less have I ever said a race-horse is not to be made to pay in the hands of a very clever scoundrel, with good judgment to back him, and neither principle nor honesty to mar his determination to make money somehow.

It might be thought that the numbers of persons who have been fleeced by the charlatans advertising their "tips" would deter any one possessing common sense from being victimized by these worthies. Daily experience, however, shows us it does not. A fool being born every hour is now an absolute calculation; for the tipping system forces on us the idea that, though children are not, as Sterne terms it, "brought into the world with a squirt," fools-that is, betting foolsmust now be produced, like Novello's chickens, by steam, such is the influx of them. If people will not listen, therefore, to experience, "charm he never so wisely," in betting, why should we expect them to do so as to keeping race-horses for profit?

Different men commence racing under different impressions as to their chance of success in it. Some trust that they will get a colt that they can call by no appropriate name but El Dorado-that he will make a fortune. Eclipse did for O'Kelly-why not Mr. Softerbrain's colt for him? His sire could go "from end to end," and cut down any living horse at long lengths, till he was tantamount to a dead one. His dam,

in shorter distances, could go like a d-1 untied. Such a cross must nick-but it don't. The colt goes to the corner, and the owner to Old Nick.

Another trusts to his judgment. "Oh, upright judge! oh, excellent young man!" "A Daniel! a Daniel risen to judgment!" He finds, however, there are other Daniels risen to judgment against him; and the result is, "his estates become confiscate to the state of "-not Venice, but John Doe and the famed Richard.

The next more modestly trusts to his luck—that is, such luck as he thinks ought to attend the fair sportsman. We will cheerfully allow that not only luck, but the best of luck, ought to attend such men. But it don't. He finds he is "down upon his luck." This brings his creditors down upon him, and then down he goes.

Another, equally modest in his estimation of his racing judgment and general pretensions, neither trusts to his colt, judgment, or luck he will go on the advice of friends, and "stable information." Here, in parliamentary phrase, we cry, "Oh, oh!" He does, however, trust to such unstable information; and when the call comes on to " divide," he finds the division is, he takes all the loss, and his stable friends all the profits, thus finding himself in a slight minority; and he gives up office.

We now come to another débutante on the-not stage, but turf. He is, in stage phrase, a most useful general actor. His line of character is wonderfully diversified. The bravo, the bully, the sycophant, are parts in which he is quite at home. The would-be gentleman he can sustain for a scene or two-perhaps through a whole act. The only part he cannot sustain is that of an honest man; he knows it, and therefore never plays in a piece where he would be called on to perform it. It may be supposed such an actor always succeeds. Too often he does; but if ever hissed, provided he gets his pay, he cares not one farthing what is thought of his performance. If his audience tire of him in one place, he changes his theatre; still playing well the parts of bravo, bully, and sycophant-the latter particularly-carries a man on a long time in this world; and if these fail, as a little by-play, our hero can enact the .blackguard anywhere. There is a far more pitiable part, however, that he is too cunning to even wish to play anywhere-that is, "the poor gentleman."

Every well-disposed person must look on such a character as the one represented with feelings of hatred and disgust; but, notwithstanding this, a knowledge of the world forces on us the unpleasing conviction that such a man takes the right course to make money. That honesty is the best policy, no one doubts. It is the best, if it were only that it affords a man the means of respecting himself; but, as the world goes, it is not in all cases the best policy, if making money alone actuates a man, and certainly is not so on the turf. On it, as things go, you must, in a general way of speaking, rob, or lose money. This, like many other truths, is a very sad and unpalatable one: it is fact, nevertheless. Which alternative an honourable mind will take, admits of no doubt. If to rob, or rather to circumvent, those that we know were trying the same game with us, was all, unpleasing as the act would be, it would admit of palliation; but the turf robber immolates friend promiscuously with foe, and yet here he has a shadow of excuse; for, verily, on the

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turf it is hard to know who is a friend. "To this complexion" has it 66 come at last."

It is quite possible, and very likely, that a particular man, especially if he be a young one, may get on the turf from a love of the sport, the (very doubtful) éclât of keeping race-horses, and from hope of experiencing the harmless vanity of seeing his horses win. May the horses of such men ever win, so long as their owners continue in the same frame of mind! but there is little more chance of that than there is of their hopes being realized. The amount of winnings will very soon reign paramount to the vanity or pleasure of winning. This barrier between the gentleman and sportsman and the mere turfite once stepped over, leads its subject into a very precarious situation-namely, one that threatens annihilation to liberality of mind and high principle.

I have heard men affirm that they played from a love of the excitement of play. Such men (without at all intending it) assert what is not fact. They play for the hope of gain, not the pleasure the variation of chances afford. We would put one plain question to any man asserting that he played for the pleasure of excitement. The question should be this: "Suppose I insure your winning to a certainty every time you play hazard or make a bet, would you at once leave off play and betting?" If a gamester or betting man said he would, I should not believe him. If he owned he would not, it would show it was not the mere excitement that actuated him; for where there is no chance of loss, there can be no excitement, though plenty of avarice. It is fallacious talking of playing for pleasure. No man takes a hazard-box in hand for amusement: conceal it as he will, he does it to win money if he can, let it belong to friend or foe.

I think it but quite fair to conclude that men who keep a stud of hunters, as well as a string of race-horses, are men of a more liberal turn of mind than the one who keeps the latter only. Keeping the hunters shows that their owner can still derive pleasure from that which produces amusement only, and that keeping the latter has not destroyed such feelings; but if he gave up the stud, and kept to the turf, I should hold him strongly tainted with the disease of avarice.

If I saw a nobleman or gentleman keep his race-horses at home constantly, or frequently seeing them at exercise, work, and in their stables, I should give him credit for having other gratification in keeping them than the mere hope of gain. But where men scarcely ever see their horses but when running, their hopes of gratification speaks for itself. Sportsmen, I venerate you all. May I therefore hope for forgiveness if I say that, from having seen a good deal of both, I must, in a general way, say I do believe the hunting man outweighs the racing one on the score of liberality in pecuniary considerations, and indeed in most other particulars.

345

ERNEST ATHERLEY;

OR, SCENES AT HOME AND ABROAD.

BY LORD WILLIAM LENNOX.

CHAP. XIV.

"The life, generally, of an Irish gentleman, was passed in a whirlwind of wild excitement. In drunkenness the night was consumed, and not unfrequently that season was found too short, and the symposium extended over days afterwards. No constitution could withstand the prevailing debauchery then in fashion; nor any estate bear up against the eternal outlay required for racing and electioneering expenses."-Anecdotes of Duelling.

Quartered in Ireland-The life of a true Milesian Squire-Boundless hospitality-Kathleen ma vourneen-An Irish dinner-Four-bottled men- A wager -Daring equestrian feat-" Love's young dream."

At the expiration of a month's leave of absence, I was ordered to join my regiment. The detachment to which I belonged was quartered at the small town of Inistigue, in the county of Kilkenny; and no sooner had my arrival been made known, than I was visited by all the gentry in the neighbourhood. Among those who paid me marked attention, was a gentleman bearing the patriotic names of Patrick Grattan Curran O'Crohon, and who at once wrote to me to say, that having enjoyed a personal acquaintance with my father, to whom he was under great obligations, he trusted that I would make Mahala Castle my home during my residence in the country. In reply to this hospitable invitation, I could not do less than at once return a most grateful letter of acknowledgment, of which I was myself the bearer.

After a most delightful drive through the picturesque domain of Woodstock, which, through the kindness of the public-spirited owner, was ever open to strangers, whether civil or military, I approached a modern castellated building, occupying a considerable space of ground; a green flag, bearing the arms of the patron saint of Ireland, floated from one of the towers, and indicated, as the car-driver, Phelim O'Shea, informed me, that his honour was at home.

From this worthy authority I ascertained some few particulars as to the character of the family to whom I was about to pay my respects. "Arragh! your honour, its aisy to see you must be a stranger in these parts, said Phelim, "if you don't know the masther. Isn't it himself that spends oceans of money, and keeps open house for all the gintry, besides the poor of this and every surrounding parish? Niver was there such eating and dhrinking in this world!"

O'Shea seemed to get quite warm on the subject, for he proceeded: "O'Crohon is a real gintleman from top to toe; one of the dacentest men in Great Britain, and his wife the same! Manys the tinpinny, aye, and piece of gould that he's given away. And the misthis is a