but the human frame is as susceptible of improvement now as in the days of Praxiteles; and there is no reason to suppose, from such comparisons as we are enabled to make, that its proportions have decreased in size since that olden time to which we are prone to look back with a somewhat foolish admiration. Were the Olympic games held on Epsom Downs, we should again see beauties of form and limb capable of supplying such ideal impersonations as the Gladiator, the Quoit-player, nay "The god of life and light, the lord of the unerring bow" himself. The gymnasium was the Greek's studio, his picture-gallery, and his favourite lounge: from the gymnasium the artist drew his models, the poet his inspirations, the warrior his unflinching endurance of toil, his Spartan contempt for suffering and death. Were the Ten thousand, think ye, men like our friend Mr. Blowhard? I fancy not, or their retreat had never been chronicled on Xenophon's immortal page. Men of muscle were they, of pluck and endurance; with all their Greek beauty, in one sense of the word, "ugly customers enough," and so their foes from time immemoriaĺ found them to their cost.

It is lamentable at this day to walk down St. James'-street or Pall Mall, and witness the state of helplessness and deformity to which man, formed by a gracious Providence in the very image of his maker, can debase himself by a long career of idleness and selfindulgence. Compare the bloated form, the gouty legs, the narrow chest, the protuberant stomach, and the helpless limbs, with that ideal which your own common sense tells you is the normal condition of the lord of creation, and say whether it is not worth some trifling pains, some small exertions, to avoid the ludicrous hideousness of the one, to attain the admirable symmetry of the other, even were no further benefit to accrue from such endeavours than the additional beauty of form which they bestow. But the advantageous effects of gymnastics do not stop here: rosy health, and consequent contentment of mind, follow close upon muscular exertion of body; and physical strength affords a degree of confidence to its possessor which is but little removed from physical courage.

With a full conviction of their advantage I would venture strongly to recommend the practice of gymnastics, always under proper restrictions, and in the hands of one who thoroughly understands their application, to all whose pursuits or avocations force them to lead a sedentary life, as a few hours every week, devoted to these manly amusements, will place them on a par, in health and strength, with their envied brethren, whose time is wholly passed in out-of-door pursuits; and the citizen, no longer bloated, pale, or emaciated, will find to his surprise and delight, that his arm is as strong, his step as light, and his frame as robust, as those of the wiry Indian of the Prairie, or the stalwart hunter of the woods.

HUNTING QUARTERS.

BY MOUNTAINEER.

From the lack of information on which we can rely, it often happens that a hunting man, who has made up his mind to emigrate in search of sport, and who has already fixed upon a country, is yet unable to fix upon the particular locality, in which, for a few short months, he may most conveniently pitch his tent, and enjoy the diversion. The advantages or disadvantages of "quarters" are so variously estimated, and so oppositely represented by their several advocates, that it is almost impossible for a stranger to arrive at any satisfactory conclusion from such conflicting opinions. Prejudice and fancy go so far in perverting the reason and warping the judgment of mankind, that if any two men, however truthful and sincere, be consulted on the simplest subject in life, the chances are that they differ as widely as the poles asunder, and give their opinions in diametrical opposition to each other: they take different views of the same object, and, as in the case of the chameleon in the fable, each maintains, with that obstinacy peculiar to prejudice, that his view must be right and that of his neighbour wrong.

As in the daily matters of life, so we fear it cannot be said that even in the social business of hunting, an exception is provided against this general rule: hunting, it is true, has its harmony, and it must be confessed that it has its prejudices also; but if the latter do not exceed the ordinary limit, nor preponderate too grossly, it is not for any other class of the community to cast a stone at the brethren of the chase. But the difficulty of getting accurate information with respect to hunting quarters arises from other causes besides those of prejudice and fancy. Private motives and self-interest step in and waylay the unwary, and present equal obstructions in the path of the enquirer; and these again assuming a thousand different forms encumber him with help, and affecting to guide him, leave him at last in a hopeless labyrinth of doubt and perplexity.

66

"Dalrymple," said Captain Cramhard to a man who was strolling listlessly down Waterloo Place, and looking the very personification of a London exquisite, can you tell me anything about the Vale of White Horse, or the old Berkshire country? I have a great notion of starring it in the provinces this season, and reducing my stud to half its present amount."

That you can well afford to do in the Vale, and get quite as much sport as you have been accustomed to get in Leicestershire or Northamptonshire with all your stud; aye, and see more hunting into the bargain. Oh yes, I know all about those countries, and will give you any information you require on the subject."

66

Thank you very much; the fact is, I have seen quite enough of the fast system, and have all my life been riding at men instead of to hounds. I now intend to study the craft in earnest, and to see whether I really cannot enjoy hunting for the sake of the sport, rather than for the éclat of being a front-rank rider. Besides, my Irish rents are not

what they used to be; and I must needs pull up in time, and ease the pace, or get floored, as they say, in the first burst."

"The pace in the Vale, or with the old Berkshire, you may depend upon it, is no joke; so beware of parting with your best horses, or my word for it, you'll want them before the end of November; and as to pulling up, Cramhard - that appears to me to be the especial mistake of half the men I meet. They go well to a certain point; then, at the sight of an ugly fence or two, their craven hearts fail them, and they withdraw ingloriously from the chase, It is the blown horse that tests the nerve of the rider, and the up-hill game the perseverance of the player. But if your object is to enjoy hounds, and you really wish to have a good opportunity of witnessing their work, I do not think you can do better than settle in the Vale.'

"Thank you Dalrymple, I'll take your advice; it shall be the Vale, at all events for the next season: but tell me, as you are so well acquainted with that country, what quarters had I better fix upon, so as to see the old Berkshire occasionally, and have a gallop with Jones, who, I am informed, is a pattern for all huntsmen to follow? I hear a good account of Cirencester from Crawley; but he is so devoted to billiards and old beer, that I place very little reliance on his judgment." "You are quite right, Cramhard; Cirencester may suit Crawley in every respect, but it would not do for you and me. No, do rural in reality while you are about it, and avoid provincial towns; hang up your hat at a good way-side inn. There's the Chequers in Foxborough, they've stabling for six or eight horses; why not go there? It's a comfortable house, I know; and you'll get all you want, and escape from what you do not want, in that quiet retreat."

Dalrymple had hunted in the Vale of White Horse country when it was occupied by a noble and distinguished sportsman; but his knowledge of it, or indeed of anything beyond a well made-boot, was wholly superficial. He knew just as much of the merits of the Chequers as the host of the Chequers knew of his; and neither in reality had any to boast of in fact, his only acquaintance with that hostlery consisted of sundry reports with reference to the accommodation afforded to his groom, of which that functionary had spoken favourably, when sent on with horses over-night. Still he gave his advice without hesitation; and as he was known to have hunted in the country, he was deemed sufficient authority on the subject. Cramhard took it for granted that his friend spoke from experience, nor was he at all aware that, during his sojourn in the Vale, Dalrymple had lived in Portly Hall, and enjoyed the hospitalities and comforts of that princely establishment. In a month or six weeks after the date of the above conversation, Cramhard despatched his horses and hunting paraphernalia to the Chequers Inn, and engaged the whole of the spare stabling, and a set of rooms, for the month of November. The sequel, however, will show how he fared during that period, and as we had it from his own pen we cannot do better than quote his own language. In the bitterness of his heart he thus wrote:

DEAR BOB, You, I fear, will think me a fit subject for Bedlam, when I tell you how readily I gave ear to Dalrymple's advice, and followed it by going to the Chequers. No tongue can describe the horrors of that vile hole, in which I dragged out a miserable existence for the

period of a whole month. Fumes of bad beer and worse tobacco poisoned the very atmosphere, and still haunt my brain; while the filth and discomfort of every thing in and about the place were perfectly disgusting. The solitude of a bittern surrounded by dank marshes and bull-frogs was nothing to mine; for just as the night set in, a tide of topers set in also, reeking, drinking, betting, swearing, and wrangling for hours together; while the cooking was so bad that I dared not ask a friend to dine, and endure the infliction with me. But my own troubles would have been borne with resignation, if they had not extended to my horses as well. It appears there is no soft water to be had at the Chequers for love or money; and the hard water which is raised from deep wells is so villanonsly hard and so purgative in its effects, that my horses were well nigh griped to death after every pail-full. The consequence was that in one week their coats assumed a rough, ungainly, badger-like appearance, instead of that fine silky character by which every gentleman's horse should be distinguished. A handful of bran stirred up in each pail was tried without effect; at last we were compelled to boil the water, and then, allowing it to cool, its acrid nature became somewhat softened, and it was given sparingly to the horses. Then, again, it was my groom's great object to keep up a high temperature in the stables, in order to counteract, if possible, the evil consequences of the hard wa ter upon the once bright and beautiful skin of his old favourites. But by doing this he created a still greater and more dangerous evil; having stopped up every cranny and hole through which the fresh air could enter, he forgot that the foul and pestilential air could not escape; and the result has been that chronic cough has been fixed upon four out of my six horses. You remember what veterinary surgeon Hickman says on that point: "The consequences of an ill-ventilated stable are of a very serious nature; they are not calculated upon until your horse points them out in language not to be misunderstood; and unless the most active measures are adopted, the rapid progress of the diseases produced by it will baffle all your endeavours, and your horse become unsound for life. When a stable is too much crowded or ill-ventilated, a very powerful poison is generated there-the pernicious effect of which soon shows itself, especially if you bring a fresh horse within its sphere of action." Nimrod too warns his readers against the effect of an ill-ventilated stable; but at the same time he says, "there should be no streams of air, no broken windows, (for a horse should stand in an equal temperature, and this he can never have if the windows of his stable are broken, as it will then depend upon the point the wind blows from); but small wooden tunnels ascending through the roof, the tops of which should be constructed so as to prevent the rain descending through them." Again, Mr. Percivall not only recommends that a stable should be cool and clean, but that the atmosphere of it should be as pure as that of the open air. "He that has clean and cool stables will have a healthy stud; and the converse of this will never fail to engender disease. Above all other considerations then, in taking the colt from its natural state, it behoves us to guard him from the vicissitudes of cold and heat, and to keep him in an atmosphere as pure as that of which we have just deprived him."

You, Bob, who are so fond of your horses, will sympathise with my troubles great indeed has been my chagrin, nor can that month's misery

:

be remedied for years; in fact, I cannot forgive myself for not breaking through the terms of my agreement, and at once quitting the detestable place for a more civilised locality. I afterwards found by experience that Cirencester affords most comfortable quarters; that they have all the advantage of being close to the kennels, which are situated in Lord Bathurst's park; that they include within reach a most social and agreeable neighbourhood, and have a convenient branch of the G. W. R. which communicates with the town. From Cirencester, also, you may see the old Berkshire Hounds in their best country, and enjoy, as I have done, some of the finest runs that man ever witnessed on the Uffington Wood, the Bourton, the Buscott and Watchfield side. Besides, within the circuit of a few miles, there is another town or two, in which friends of mine were located, and of which they speak in high terms; there's Cricklade and Farringdon on one side, and Malmsbury on the other; and if you go, as you talk of going, into the Vale, I would advise you, Bob, by all means, to take up your quarters in one of these towns; but wherever you go or whatever you do, avoid for your life such dens as the Chequers.

Yours Ever,

CRAMHARD.

ERNEST ATHERLEY;

OR, SCENES AT HOME AND ABROAD.

BY LORD WILLIAM LENNOX.

CHAP. V.

"Alas! I have had playmates, I have had companions,
In my days of childhood, in my joyful school days:
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces!

How some they have died, and some they have left me,
And some are taken from me; all are departed-
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces!"

C. LAMB.

Christmas at Atherley Manor-Fox-hunting-Death in the Field. There is an indescribable mournful pleasure in reverting to the companions of our youth, and we are still old-fashioned and perhaps unworldly enough, to have juvenile feelings and strong associations spring up in our minds upon such occasions. The death of an associate of one's boyish days especially calls forth from the heart many a kindly feeling that has been from time to time imperceptibly stored there-past acts of attachment-bygone feelings of kindness-temporary matters of interest-all rise up to the memory in the freshness of their first impression: such impressions wake up the recollection of early dreams, of hopes gone by, of joys never again to return. Alas, for the brilliant imaginations of our youth! bright and beautiful as they are, they wither away. These melancholy reflections completely absorbed every thought when the mournful event to which I am about to refer took place.