critical article, and the sporting world must not be put in mourning for Dick Bragg. The lad will have to clean my boots, and wait at table when I have company -- yourself, for instance.

This is only a poor, rough, ungentlemanly sort of shire, as far as I have seen of it; and however they got on with the things I found that they called hounds I can’t for the life of me imagine. I understand they went stringing over the country like a flock of wild geese. However, I have rectified that in a manner by knocking all the fast ’uns and slow ’uns on the head; and I shall require at least twenty couple before I can take the field. In your official report of what your old file puts back, you’ll have the kindness to cobble us up good long pedigrees, and carry half of them at least back to the Beaufort Justice. My man has got a crochet into his head about that hound, and I’m dimmed if he doesn’t think half the hounds in England are descended from the Beaufort Justice. These hounds are at present called the Mangeysternes, a very proper title, I should say, from all I’ve seen and heard. That, however, must be changed; and we must have a button struck, instead of the plain pewter plates the men have been in the habit of hunting in.

As to horses, I’m sure I don’t know what we are to do in that line. Our pastrycook seems to think that a hunter, like one of his pa’s pies, can be made and baked in a day. He talks of going over to Rowdedow Fair, and picking some up himself; but I should say a gentleman demeans himself sadly who interferes with the just prerogative of the groom. It has never been allowed I know in any place I have lived; nor do I think servants do justice to themselves or their order who submit to it. Howsomever, the crittur has what Mr Cobden would call the ‘raw material’ for sport -- that is to say, plenty of money -- and I must see and apply it in such a way will produce it. I’ll do the thing as it should be, or not at all.

I hope your good lady is well -- also all the little Bricks. I purpose making a little tower of some of the best kennels as soon as the drafts are arranged, and will spend a day or two with you, and see how you get on without me. Dear Brick,

Yours to the far end,

Richard Bragg

To Benjamin Brick, Esq.,
Huntsman to the Right Hon. the Earl of Reynard,
Turkeypout Park.

P. S. -- I hope your old man keeps a cleaner tongue in his head than he did when I was premier. I always say there was a good bargeman spoiled when they made him a lord.

R. B.

There is nothing more indicative of real fine people than the easy indifferent sort of way they take leave of their friends. They never seem to care a farthing for parting.

Our friend Jawleyford was quite a man of fashion in this respect. He saw Sponge’s preparations for departure with an unconcerned air, and a -- ‘sorry you’re going,’ was all that accompanied an imitation shake, or rather touch of the hand, on leaving there was no ‘I hope we shall see you again soon,’ or ‘Pray look in if you are passing our way,’ or ‘Now that you’ve found your way here we hope you’ll not be long in being back,’ or any of those blarneyments that fools take for earnest and wise men for nothing. Jawleyford had been bit once, and he was not going to give Mr Sponge a second chance. Amelia too, we are sorry to say, did not seem particularly distressed, though she gave him just as much of a sweet look as he squeezed her hand, as said, ‘Now, if you should be a man of money, and my Lord Scamperdale does not make me my lady, you may,’ &c.

There is an old saying, that it is well to be ‘off with the old love before one is on with the new,’ and Amelia thought it was well to be on with the new love before she was off with the old. Sponge, therefore, was to be in abeyance.