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chord, will carry a man years back, even to the days of childhood. How often, how very often, have we felt the truth of this! and can well imagine the British officer in all the joys of victory-having just claimed the first spear in a boar hunt across the Deccan-as he loosens the girths of his panting Arab, suddenly recalling the morning when he stole from his room on an Easter holiday to throw his first spear at the otter in "old and merrie England!"

PLATE II.

SPORT ON THE COAST.

ENGRAVED BY WILKINSON, FROM A SKETCH BY THOMS.

"Lovely 'tis in cowslip'd mead,

Shady copse, or winding lane,

Where the village-matrons lead

Forth their young and sportive train:

And as gladsome, by the main,

Form'd for either element,

Those who know no flowery plain,

With their rude sea-beach content."

BERNARD BARTON.

Whatever may be urged against the life of a sportsman-and really some people either do, or fancy they could, say a vast deal on that side of the question-it has this strong, this unanswerable recommendation, that it tends, perhaps, in a greater degree than any other pursuit or occupation, to establish and increase that blessing beyond all price-bodily health. Of all sports of the field, however, such as lead their devotees over the inland marshes or into the inland streams, are not considered amongst the least injurious; while, on the other hand, none are more invigorating, none more conducive to a cheerful state both of mind and body, than the out-of-door amusements to be enjoyed on the coast of "our tight little island." Here the invalid, if he possess anything like a taste for pleasure, or "a heart bigger than a pin's head"—instead of morning after morning taking the same dull, listless walk, so far out and so far in, like a race-horse in physic, or a troop of boarding-school misses-may wander over the sands and

amongst the rocks and craigs, with all his energies braced up and his ills forgotten, while intent on the slaughter of gulls and wild-fowl. Or should such exercise be too strong for his weak body, or too exciting for his weak nerves, can he not, whenever he choose (weather permitting) engage a one-armed, one-eyed, British Agamemnon to spin him long yarns, drink the grog he dare not, and initiate him in all the mysteries of salt-water fish and crab catching? Nay; should his purse run long enough, and his heart really gladden at the sight of blue water, he may at once metamorphose himself into a Lord High Admiral by simply engaging a first-rate full-pay man-cook, a halfpay naval officer, and drawing a cheque for a few thousands, to give him the power of standing as monarch of all in the "Pearl," or the "Nautilus"-with speaking-trumpet in his hand, Palinurus at his elbow, and

"Blue Peter at the mast-head flying!"

If with their combined assistance the blue sea does not speedily put to rout the blue-devils, the blue pills, et similia, the patient's case must be desperate indeed!

Of all these methods of driving dull care away, the group before us appear either to have already, or to be about enjoying one and all. The yacht, or fishing boat, lies at anchor within hail; a couple of semi-Aquarii semi-Sagittarii are resting between the heats, and testing the merits of the provision-basket; while a third, and more determined sportsman, is still engaged in the work of destruction. Either our memory plays us altogether false, or the sketcher never enlightened us as to where he has laid his scene; but this, after all, is a matter of no consequence, for his handiwork—as far as our judgment goes-is one of those sweet bits of nature which tell their own story, requiring little or no assistance from the hands or voice of" the showman" to point out or expatiate upon its many beauties and characteristic fidelity. Still were we assailed with that parliamentary cry which resounds through the house when one honourable gentleman talks at another honourable gentleman—“ Name, name!"—we should say that some nook in the Isle of Wight was the original of our engraving. The Isle of Wight! As everybody has been there, or everybody, who has not yet, is going in the next long vacation, or when he gets out of his articles, or into matrimony, we will not offer one word of the descriptive. The subject, we hope, will be agreeable to all; if not, it ought to be, for

"By the dwellers in our sea-girt isle,

Its billowy borders are with pride beheld."

159

THE LIFE OF A JOCKEY,

WITH ANECDOTES OF THE TURF.

(Continued from p. 125.)

BY LORD WILLIAM LENNOX.

"We're off to the races,

With smiles on our faces,

Lobster, salad, and champagne and chat-

Prime Newcastle salmon,

And Westphalia 'gammon ;'

And there's no mistake about that.

All the world and his mother

Are jostling each other:

City madams are cutting it fat'

In silks, with their spouses

In white hats and blouses:"

There's no mistake about that.

Drags, go-carts, post-chaises,
Come rushing like blazes!"

"CRAVEN."

CHAPTER II.

A PROVINCIAL MEETING-THE CHARACTER OF THE BLACK SHEEP OF THE TURF DULY DEVELOPED-A CROSS-A GOOD DAY'S WORK-OUR HERO LEAVES HIS "HOME, SWEET HOME”- -A LEG

OF THE BLACKEST HUE-ATTEMPT TO POISON THE FAVOURITE 66 DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND."

At the conclusion of our last chapter we introduced our young hero, Samuel Milsom Styles, to the race-course of Ditchley; and never was greater joy experienced by any youth than when he found himself in this gay yet noisy scene. Sam had hitherto seen little of real life, and, to use his uncle's expression, was quite "flabbergasted,” as he drove over the course. I am rather doubtful as to whether the first visit to the race-course is not more delightful to the stripling than the first visit to the theatre; and they are both, like scenes of enchantment, long treasured up in the mind. Certainly, upon the occasion I am now alluding to, young Sam Styles never felt himself more happy; for, thanks to the kindness of his parents, he not only entered into the sports of the turf, but was initiated into all the delights of the drama; Mrs. Styles having, in the course of the day, treated her son and herself to Mumwell's Theatre, Gagley's Fantocini, Sander's Equestrian Circle, and Mograbin, the tiger-tamer's, wonderful den of wild beasts. Here was a theatrical performance worthy the London boards. To resume. The race of the day, "The Ditchley Stakes of 3 sovs. cach, 30s. forfeit and 1 sov. if declared, &c.,

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