the French. His snow-white hair seemed almost out of keeping with his light, youthful figure, and the beaming radiance of his eagle eye. Having begun hunting during the last advent of mahogany tops, he had never wholly adopted the white ones, and was now-neither in the fashion nor out-with rose-coloured ones. Neither had he ever abandoned the white cords, for whose milky purity he was always remarkable. His new scarlet coat was of the single-breasted, slightly sloped-away order, with a step-collared toilonette vest, a starched striped cravat, with a small plaited frill to his shirt. And thus the reader will have the kindness to consider our great ladykilling master of hounds attired for the reception of company on this his-we know not what number-opening day. His lordship, having breakfasted in his sanctum, and passed his silk-stockinged, state-liveried establishment in review, now proceeded to take his usual post of reception, before the blazing entrance-hall fire-a splendid hall beaming with ancestral honours and trophies of the chase. And here we should observe, that the morality of the country divided itself into three classes. First, the desperately improper ones, who didn't care what people said, and who boldly entered the castle, partaking of the sumptuous fare, and calmly surveying the statues and voluptuous paintings with which the beautiful rooms and corridors were studded; secondly, the more prudish ones, who could only drive up to the door; and thirdly, the tight-laced ones, such as old Miss Fozington, who would not even enter the park, and merely took a drive "that way" to take the chance of seeing the hounds, with which, somehow or another, they generally fell in. First among the forward ones on this occasion was our superb friend the Empress of Morocco, who, despite a tiff with the tanner about coming, drove up in her well-built but badly-appointed barouche, gorgeous in purple, ermine, and lace, with the slightest possible touch of rouge on her plump, beautiful cheeks. Often as Lord Heartycheer had greeted her, he thought he never saw her look so bewitching, and he inwardly cursed the grinding of wheels that preceded the announcement of Mrs. and Miss Marplotte. How low and courteous was the bow that received them! How different to the seizure of both hands and earnest empressement that marked his addresses to the beaming, gazelle-like eyes of the empress! The Marplottes soon obeyed the obsequious flourish of the well-drilled groom of the chamber, and passed onward to the banqueting-room. They were quickly followed by Mrs. and the Miss Hoeys; then came Captain and Mrs Horridbore; after them the Beddingfields, then the Mountfields, then the Honeyballs, next the Gathertins, the Freckletons, and the Buckwheats, all in a file; after which there was a pause, and then a rush of hungry fox-hunters, ready for anything. In less than twenty minutes from the first setting down, the splendid dining-room rang with the popping of champagne-corks, the clatter of plates, and the joyous hilarity of unrestrained freedom. All went merry as a marriage-bell, till Captain Horridbore, who was to the Whig party what Sir Thomas Thimbleton was to the Tory, rose to propose the health of their noble host. Being one of those hungry, hard-bitten radicals, who come out great at elections and then merge into nothingness, he had the gift of the gab, and strung words together with amazing volubility. On this occasion he was so laudatory, that one might almost have thought he was laughing at his lordship. Every virtue was freely attributed to him, and a stranger hearing him talk would have thought Lord Heartycheer was a perfect saint. The applause that followed the announcement of the name was the usual signal for his lordship to leave the post of reception before the entrance-hall fire, and repair to acknowledge the compliment; but it so happened that the Empress of Morocco, who, we forgot to say, had brought her little boy Freddy to see the "fine house," having made the tour of the reception-rooms, by the "greatest chance in the world" forced herself in the entrance-hall by the reverse door at which she had left it, and the coast being clear, all except a few footmen, who of course nobody cares about, his lordship waylaid her, to renew the attentions the Marplotte arrival interrupted. Having sent Freddy to look at the pretty pictures at the far end of the hall, she placed her beautiful foot on the broad fender, and slightly raising her velvet dress, as if to give her foot the benefit of the warmth, she was very soon whispering her domestic grievances into the ear of this fine old fox-hunting father confessor. There, as he stood looking into her eyes and imbibing her every word, listening to the Turkish despotism of the tyrannical tanner, and thinking how best to avenge her cause, the loud cheers of the health-drinkers burst unheeded on the scene, and it was not until Mr. Snuffertray-the pompous butler-twice intimated the honour that had been done him, that his lordship awoke to the necessity of the occasion. Offering the lovely empress his arm, he holloaed, "Here, e-lope! young 'un, e-lope!" as if speaking to a hound, and, being now followed by Freddy, they entered the banqueting-room in state. What a commotion their appearance created. "Brazen woman!" ejaculated Mrs. Sowerby, half-choking herself with a chicken-bone. "Would not have come if I'd known," muttered Mrs. Mealymouth. "Did you ever!" "No I never!" and other disparaging exclamations succeeded, which, however, were soon drowned by the applause that followed. His lordship, of course, was quite taken by surprise at the unexpected compliment, and after expressing the embarrassment he felt, and the inadequacy of language to convey the sentiments of his heart, he branched off upon the subject of hunting, expatiating upon its advantages in a social point of view, its life-lengthening, health-giving properties, and its beneficial influence in promoting our breed of horses, which, however, he took the opportunity of observing were not so good as they used to be, adding, that if he continued to have a difficulty in mounting himself, he should have to set to and breed a few-a declaration that was thought very plucky for a "gay old gentleman" turned of seventy. And now, whilst his lordship is plying the empress with noyean jelly, and Freddy with fruit, the slight crack of a whip, followed by a musical rate, is heard, and Dicky Thorndyke is seen in his new cap and coat, rising corkily in his stirrups, piloting the glad pack round the castle corner, followed by the whips, similarly attired. "How "How are you, Dicky?" "How are you, Thorndyke?" are you, Dicky?" bursts from the now crowded ring before the castle, as Dicky guides the pack on to the grass-plat, a salutation that Dicky acknowledges just as he thinks the speaker's intimacy with his lordship entitles him to Dicky or Thorndyke him. Similar inquiries are now made of the whips, after which the gentle men begin identifying the horses, and the ladies to lisp their admiration of the hounds. "Such pretty creatures!" "How many were there ?" “All so much alike,-wondered they could tell the difference!" And so on-the usual observations, in fact. A diversion having been caused in the banqueting-room by the passing of the hounds, his lordship availed himself of the opportunity to withdraw with the Empress of Morocco, and having presently wrapped her proceeded to mount a magnificent anything-you-like-to-call-it-worth up in her splendid Armenian cloak, and handed her to her carriage, he white horse, to take his place in the centre of the hunting tableaux before the castle. The hounds raised a glad cry, and dashed forward to meet him, while the men made aërial sweeps with their caps instead of reproving the ardour of the pack. His lordship bowed low and condescendingly to the second-class morality-mongers, whose sense of propriety would only allow of their partaking of refreshments at the door. The sherry and maraschino, the Crême de Vanille and Parfait Amour, seemed to have exercised a mollifying influence on their prudery, and, instead of the "Horrid bad mans!" "Shocking old dogs !" that generally accompanied his name, there were skilfully-directed murmurs of "How well he looks!" "What a handsome man!" "Younger than ever!" with a great disposition to catch his eye. The day was bright and fair. A glittering flag floated proudly from the topmost tower; while the expanding river, refreshened with November rains, swept impetuously through the park, a slight sprinkling of snow capped the summits of the far-off hills. Here, as his lordship sat at the receipt of custom, the compliments flying about him like bouquets round a favourite actress at a theatre, the notes of a cornet-à-piston suddenly sounded through the air, causing the steady pack to cock their ears, and all eyes to turn in the direction of the sound. Presently a heavily-laden coach emerged from behind a long screen of denselycrowded evergreens upon the open carriage-way through the park, exposing the weak-leg weary state of the horses, who with difficulty were kept at a trot, with the "Jip, jip, jippings," "Jag, jag, jaggings," "Crop, crop, croppings," and double thongings of the driver. "Who have we here?" asked his astonished lordship of Dicky Thorndyke. "Don't know, my lord," replied Dicky, shading the sun from his eyes, and straining in the direction of the comers. “Player-folks, I should say, by their noise," added he. "No, my lord; no. I see; it's the cavalry colonel-it's the cavalry colonel and his captains." "Do I know them?" asked his lordship, who made it a rule never to speak to any one who was not properly introduced. "You'll know the colonel," replied Dicky. "Was here some years back." Adding, in an under tone, as he leant forward in his saddle, "The corpulent captain that used to be." "I remember," replied his lordship, with a significant jerk of his head. "Great, fat, vulgar fellow." "Just so," said Dicky. The corpulent captain had been one of his lordship's horrors, and the recollection of his impudent brusque gaucheries flashed upon his mind as he watched him "Jip, jip, jipping," whip, whip, whipping, “Jag, jag, jagging," and stamping on the splash-board, to get the leg-weary screws to trot becomingly up to the door. By the time he arrived, his lordship had got himself screwed into the imperative mood-very stiff. A dead silence followed the drawing up of the drag, all eyes being on the watch to see how the party was received. "How are ye, Heartycheer?" roared the monster, now slackening his reins, and casting a triumphant glance over the scene. His lordship made a slight bow. "How are ye, Heartycheer?" repeated he, in a still louder key, nothing daunted by the failure of the first inquiry. His lordship now nearly kissed his horse's ears, so deferential was his bow. "Hope we haven't kept you waiting long," continued the colonel, putting his clumsy whip into the socket by his side. "Precious little fear of that," thought Dicky Thorndyke, looking at his master with a laughing eye. "Couldn't get our people started," continued the colonel, standing up and looking over the crowded roof-" take such a deal of combin' and gettin' up some of these young fellers-waxin' their ringlets and corkin' their snouts-however," continued he, "let me introduce them to you now that I've got them here. This chap on my left," jerking his fin towards his white-hatted companion on the box," you know, old Fibby; came out of the ark with Noah-haw-haw-haw; he-he-he; ho— ho-ho. The boy behind me on the roof is young Shuttleton, son of Mr. Shuttleton, the great Manchester manufacturer-makes the Coburg cloth that looks so like merino-sixteen-pence a yard. The man next him is Jaycock, a very promising officer, with great expectations from an uncle. This is Mattyfat, and that is Gape. No, not the beetle-browed one," continued the colonel, seeing his lordship's eagle eye fixed to bow to the wrong one" not the beetle-browed one," repeated he, "the foxy-faced 'un next him." And so the gallant officer proceeded amidst much laughter to trot out the young gentlemen in front of the coach, just as the facetious recorder trots out a newly-elected lord mayor before the barons of the Exchequer. When, however, he turned to deal with those behind, he found they had taken fright at the examples made of their brethren, and cut off, so, sousing himself down on his seat, he crossed his legs and proceeded to take a leisurely survey of the surrounding scene. "And how have you been?" roared he, addressing Lord Heartycheer in the most familiar way. "How have you been?" repeated he, in the same tone, not getting an answer to his first inquiry. "Pretty well, thank you, colonel," replied his lordship, with a smile at the unwonted familiarity. "And how are you, Billy?" said he, addressing Dicky Thorndyke. "Don't get any younger," continued he, returning to his lordship, not getting any answer from Billy. "Few people do," replied his lordship, tartly. "Ah, but some people wear their years better than others," roared the colonel, in reply. "You show age desperately-your hair's as white as snow." "Indeed," replied his lordship, making him a very low bow. "However," continued the colonel, nothing daunted by the frowns of all around, "you are a remarkable man of your years-a very remarkable man-few men of your age can get on to a horse, let alone go a-hunting." An observation that met with no reply, and caused a momentary pause. "Have seen your hounds look better, I think," continued the colonel, returning to the charge. "Indeed!" exclaimed his lordship, boiling up. "I was just saying to Mister Thorndyke"-with a strong emphasis on the mister-"I was just saying to Mister Thorndyke, that I thought I never saw them looking better. "Ah, well," rejoined the colonel, slightly disconcerted, "I don't mean to say that the general wouldn't pass them, I mean to say that I don't mean to say they are not looking-healthy, wholesome, and so on-but I've seen them look better, I think-evener, I mean," added he, with a jerk of his right fin. "Evener!" replied his lordship; " evener!" repeated he; "show me an uneven hound in the pack,"-his lordship waving his hand as he spoke. Why, there's one!" roared the colonel, nettled at the challenge. "Where?" asked his lordship. 66 "There!" roared the colonel, "under Billy's horse's nose." Why, man! that's the terrier!" exclaimed his lordship, to the infinite mirth of the meeting. Unable to bear with him any longer, his lordship now gave Dicky a nod, who forthwith whistled his hounds together and moved briskly from the meet. The scene then became a dissolving view, and the colonel was soon left high and dry at the door. THE BEAUTIFUL. BY J. E. CARPENTER. THE beautiful, the beautiful, it is the first to fly, 'Tis transient as the rainbow hues which glorify the sky; The beautiful, the beautiful, who loveth beauty, say? The old man with his silv'ry locks, or the merry child at play ? It gives the other hopes undimmed by sorrow's bitter tears. The beautiful, the beautiful, oh! would I were a boy, To spread its halo of delight around some useless toy— And tread once more the beauteous paths of childhood's fairy ground. |