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noon away, gazing at the sporting picture on the cover of the copy-book, thinking what a glorious thing it must be to catch a salmon and shoot a grouse; after long years of toil, not unmixed with sorrow, here we were, out on the grouse hills, realising boyhood's charming daydream. Childhood touched us once more: it does not touch us often; but oh, it is divinely sweet to feel the spirit of other days stealing over us, the heart for a fleeting hour transformed into boyhood's soul so light and free, free as the freshening breeze upon the sunny hills.

We had agreed to meet Overeager for luncheon at a shepherd's hut : of course he was there before us, and had made the necessary inquiries for the hamper and the claret bottles. The day was so fine that we had the spread on the grass; cold fowl, sandwiches, cheese, claret, and whisky were well discussed; and amid the curling fumes of some capital cigars, Overeager told us a tale. A gentleman once wanted a pointer, and it happened at the same time that a collier in a neighbouring village had one to sell. The dog was sent for and tried, he had an excellent nose and pointed exceedingly well, but the moment the gun was fired he invariably ran in. Flogging effected no cure, the dog was incurable. The collier was sent for, and on the fault being explained to him, he admitted that it was very bad. However, the pitman thought that he could make his dog down charge, and as that was the only thing required, the gentleman agreed to give the pointer another trial in presence of the miner. Out in the fields they soon found game. The gentleman shot and called out "down charge," but away the heedless pointer went, wilder than a March hare. The collier owned that such bad behaviour would never do, but said he to the gentleman, "The dog doant understand yer honner. Doant yer talk to him next toime; let me talk to him." They soon had another find, and as the gentleman drew up to the point, the miner said again, "Doant speak to him, yer honner." When the gun went off, the collier shook his fist savagely at the dog, and shouted, "Squat ye beggar." The dog down charged in an instant, and the experiment was several times repeated with the same results. Of course the gentleman could not purchase the dog; to use such a vulgar version of "down charge" would ruin any man's sporting character. "But," said the Baron laughingly to Overeager, "why didn't you say 'squat ye beggar,' to the donkey last night when he ran in up the brook, with you for his startled game?" "No, no," said Overeager, reddening with anger, "Quello non era uno scherzo. Cattivo! Troppo cattivo." This

brought up the subject of the robbery, and poor John was questioned about the state of his nerves. He was never very strong at any time, and his remarkably small appetite, joined to an inveterate habit of fasting, always kept him weak in strength and low in condition. Would he not take a little whisky medicinally? The Baron gave the poor fellow whisky and whisky instead of whisky and water.

It was time to start homewards, and there were several places which had been scarcely shot over during the season. We were much less fatigued than on the previous day, and the Baron obligingly slackened his speed for our especial accommodation. We had nearly forgotten to say, that before starting the Baron asked the shepherd's wife how the pig killed, and whether she found any shot in his bacon. As we went along, we asked the Baron to tell us about this pig. He related the following adventure. "I once lunched at yonder hut, when my attention was attracted by a very lively pig. I could not help admiring his active intelligence, and threw him several pieces of bread. After walking more than a mile from the hut, I found, to my astonishment, that the pig was after me; and, what was worse, all his intelligence forsook him in his obstinate refusals to be driven home again. I walked on for a considerable distance, had several shots, and still the pig followed. The keeper tried what he could do with the animal, but, pig like, he would neither be coaxed nor driven. Wherever I went the pig followed, and the thing was so ridiculous, that I sometimes laughed and sometimes stormed with vexation. At last we had a good point with both dogs, and I thought no more of the pig. Before we could draw up to the dogs our swinish companion rushed ahead, and doubled on the pointers with a terrific grunt, and flushed the covey. One barrel I gave to the birds, and the other contributed to the pig's hind-quarters, just as he was in the act of kicking up his heels for a chase after the dogs. The shot was effectual, he started off for his stye at full speed, and I saw him no more."

We had not gone very far on our way homeward, before the report of Overeager's gun was heard, but this time he was out of bounds. The Baron was displeased, and at night he did not forget to rebuke the keenest sportsman that ever planted his foot upon the heather. The shooting was very good all the way home, plenty of game coming to bag. Heavy charges began to tell upon the shoulder, and the Baron complained that our gun made too much noise. Not liking to let him know the very heavy charges we were firing, we had

recourse to French for an answer to his question: "Why in the world does your gun make so much noise?" "Mon mal d'épaule pourrait le mieux répondre à votre question. On entend toujours mieux le fusil qu' un autre tire que celui qu'on tire soi-même. Victoire à celui qui est habile et brave."

Brighton has a capital eye for marking down, and scarcely made a mistake during the whole day. Towards evening we found ourselves upon the summit of the last hill in pursuit of a wounded bird, Juno was soon on the scent, and it was beautiful to see the manner in which she footed her game into a small bunch of heather; the bird lay so close that one might have touched it with the gunmuzzle there she lay unmoved, although we were within a yard of her. When she did take wing we were in a very awkward position immediately behind the Baron He fired both barrels and missed; we then stepped to the front, fired a volley, and the bird still went on. Both of us were standing very awkwardly and close together, so that the slightest mistake might have been attended with fatal consequences; the common danger made both nervous, and if the game had been as big as an elephant neither of us could have hit it. Brighton was standing on the edge of a deep gorge, and as the bird crossed the valley he also gave her both barrels. The unerring eye of the game-keeper marked her down at an enormous distance, and as it was the last shot of the evening he determined to retrieve, and, descending into the valley with Juno at his heels, he left us to empty the guns and start for home.

It was very pleasant to mount the dogcart and trot leisurely across the moorland in the light of the setting sun. It needed no very poetical nature to enjoy the golden clouds which shone resplendent beyond the western hills. The calm soft light seemed to subdue the sense of weariness, and the lonely stillness of our journey was only broken by an occasional flight of grouse from their last disturbance in the coming twilight. Many a weary sportsman had passed through the same valleys, and watched the same retreating of the light as it faded into the western sky; but their feet no longer tread the heather: they enjoyed themselves, they are gone, and other feet must step the blooming heather in the same pilgrimage of life. Other guns shall rattle among these hills, and other eyes shall sparkle at the sight of falling birds, when these orbs of vision are closed in the long lone sleep which comes behind the curtain of death. Let it be so. We are content. Here's to the happiness of the coming time when we are out of it!

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Overeager entered the road about half a mile in advance of us, driving, as usual, at a very rapid rate. The Baron hoped that "Old Adam" would stand the rough roads, and convey the Jehu safely to the lodge. But why the name of "Old Adam?" It was indicative of the great age of the vehicle. certainly never could have been made in the memory of man, for it was about the most antique-looking thing that ever crossed a fell. The Baron's misgivings were not superfluous. Down in the next valley we came up with what proved to be the ruins of Old Adam. Overeager and the servant John had driven furiously against a large stone, and the vehicle was broken to pieces. Neither of the passengers was hurt, although thrown out somewhat violently upon the heath. Poor John's whisky and whisky had made him oblivious of danger; he sparred at the upright shaft of the old gig, as if it were a robber. "I'll sh-sh-oot ye; ye rascal." Overeager loaded his goods in our dog-cart, tied the broken harness of his horse, jumped upon its back, and dashed ahead, first as usual. John came slowly after us, very merry, bidding defiance to all robbers, and threatening to shoot every tree he came

near.

When the guests made their appearance at the dinner-table none of them were so fatigued as on the previous evening; we had some merry talk before we put our pipes out and retired for the night. Two custards were left after dinner, and before they were removed the Baron was facetiously inclined for another lark. "Heads or tails;" he would toss, and the man who lost should be compelled to eat both custards. The loss fell to us, but to eat any more was impossible. Overeager kindly acted the part of deputy, and when he had completed the gastronomic duty, his enormous appetite seemed to revive, and he began to inquire for the uncut game pie. This was too much for the endurance and irritability of the Baron's aged sister she declared that no man should burst himself in her presence. Overeager was snubbed and effectually put down.

The moor and its improvement formed the principal subject of the evening's conversation. Heather burning had already caused much mischief, the people abusing good nature, and burning too late in the season; no burning should be allowed after the 25th of March, and the moor had been burnt so much that it needed three or four years' rest. Overeager gave it as his decided opinion that the best method of improving and increasing the grouse would be to cross the breed. The importation of a number of hens from the Scotch moors would be of the greatest use. It would only be

necessary to cut the pinion of one wing to prevent the foreigners from leaving their new home. By this crossing of the breed the birds would become much more numerous and healthy. The hares and " gray" needed more shelter. There was room for at least three or four plantations; these would be of considerable service, particularly for moor game. The trout streams are also in bad condition; burn fishing at best is by no means first-class sport, but in the present instance the angling might be much improved at no very great cost. Francis would very soon transform those long, narrow, and thin streams into prolific homes for the finny tribe; a few dams, a few deep holes, and resting places for the fish, together with the necessary supply of food in the shape of weeds, minnows, and insects, would greatly improve the moor fishing. The wonder is that the Baron's fast son, Tom, has not attended to this before now; but we suppose he is already too much occupied with the cares of his racing stud, and his admiration of Cornish ladies.

We retired to rest early. During the night a tremendous wind arose, which threatened to blow the shooting box to atoms; we escaped, however, with the dismal noises of cracking timbers and creaking doors. The morning was remarkably fine, and we set out for home well content with the past and hopeful for the future. We had not gone far on the road before the Baron and his aged sister passed us, and we saw them no more for the day; Overeager's horse was no match for the Baron's dashing pair, and we were left to jog on far in the rear. We had a long chat about the donkey and the robbery; Overeager, perhaps for the first time in his life, admitted that he was frightened. After asking for a pledge of secrecy, which was given, he assured us that at first he thought St. Nicholas himself had seized him, and was dragging him al inferno. He felt some twinges of conscience, and some fears about the kind of reception he should have in the next world, but he had not time to go into the thing before he discovered the length of the fiend's ears, and his not arrow-headed tail. The two days' exertion on the grouse hills made one uncommonly stiff, but through walking the heavy hills the stiffness wore away.

It was a pleasure to sit down in the study once more, and the pleasure was increased by a handsome cheque from a London publisher. But there is always some drawback to human happiness. Carlo had gone off, and neither the servant nor the police could discover any trace of him. What a pity we did not take him with us to the moors, for then all this expense and vexation would have been spared.

After our departure the dog became very restless; unfortunately, he had seen the gun case go out of the house, and this was quite sufficient to upset him. During the first day of our absence he was distracted and inconsolable, he would eat nothing, he would not even enter the house; the next morning the yard door happened to be open, and he absconded. It was not until after two or three advertisements that we obtained tidings of the runaway. We had given him up for lost, and it was indeed good news to learn that he was in safe hands. Where does the reader imagine the truant was found? He had never been out on a shooting excursion in this part of England except twice to one place, and thither he had gone both times by train. When he saw the gun he must have concluded in his own mind that his master was gone to the field, and as he only knew one shooting place in this part of England, he started for it, and found it. poor dog's sagacity and attachment, which guided him successfully in a twenty miles' exploring expedition across the country, will never be forgotten.

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A SHORT notice will suffice to say all that is necessary of this fish, which, in its habits as well as appearance, bears some resemblance to the roach.

The dace is one of the most beautiful of all our fresh-water fish, and though by no means so common or so popular with anglers as is the roach, is yet usually to be found in most rivers where the latter is abundant. Dace are far more silvery-looking and more elegant in general contour than the roach, but have not the bright scarlet fins which constitute such an attraction of the last-mentioned fish ; the fins of the dace being, like its body, of a bright silver, slightly pencilled with dark grey or olive green at the edges.

The dace seldom exceeds one pound in weight, and rarely indeed runs so high as that, whilst roach are taken weighing two and sometimes three pounds. On a summer evening dace often afford good sport to the fly-fisher, for, like chub, they are fond of lying on the surface of the water, whence they rise eagerly

to the angler's "cast." For this pastime a small white fly is the best, as I think. Persons fishing for roach commonly take dace also, as both varieties often feed together, but the fish taken will be in the proportion of one dace to ten roach. In my paper on "The Roach," I have given directions for this method of fishing, and therefore need not repeat them here. Dace frequent both rivers and ponds, but I fancy prefer a clear stream running over a gravelly bottom in summer time. The largest dace I have ever taken have been caught in the autumn months, and always near the arches of some old bridge, as, for example, those of Walton and Henley-on-Thames, and the weight of the biggest of the species ever taken by my own hand was precisely one pound two ounces, which I consider good for a dace. I caught this dace with a red worm, when taking gudgeons for jack-fishing. In many rivers (the Trent for instance) the red worm is at certain seasons the best bait for both dace and roach. The graylingfisher either with fly or worm, will often add some good dace to his basket. But for the sport which they afford, dace are useless, and possess so little culinary excellence, that they are not worth the trouble of carrying to the cook. As a bait, however, to the jack-fisher they are more valuable than most other small fish. Almost all live-bait fishermen select the dace as the most likely to lure jack. I think the gudgeon equally good, but perhaps the latter is to be preferred for trolling, and the dace for cork-float fishing. Dace, being very delicate fish, are apt, if used for trolling, to lose their silvery gloss on being dragged over the ground, an ordeal which the gudgeon goes through triumphantly.

Dace cannot exist in impure water. Of all fish they are perhaps the most fastidious in this respect. I do not think that dace are to be found in any quantity in the Thames nearer to London than Richmond, which, of course, is to be attributed to the foul state of the river within its metropolitan boundaries.

Years ago, dace were common enough between Westminster, Hungerford, Waterloo, Blackfriars, and Southwark bridges, down to London bridge, and even below it. Now the capture of a dace in those waters would be a curiosity. The localities mentioned, however, are from their filthy attributes the paradise of the eel, which has plenty of garbage and refuse to prey upon. I have said that in summer dace may be taken with the fly, and a very good way of accomplishing this, especially for boys, is to tie five or six flies on a line together at short intervals, and lightly drop them on the top of the water

* See Vol. X., p. 444.

where the dace and bleak are basking. This plan is called "whipping," and is very killing, but it requires a light and delicate hand; or a gentle may be used instead of a fly, and dropped in like manner on the surface of the water. In this way the school-boy will have no difficulty in filling his basket with bleak, dace, and small chub, and if he is careful to keep out of sight and not throw his shadow on the water, more than one good-sized chub or dace is likely to fall a victim to his devices.

Dace spawn at about the same time as the roach, viz., in April or May, and oftener in the former than the latter month. They come into condition again early in June, and afford good sport to fishermen through the following months of July, August, and September, biting best from sunset until dark, as do all fish in the hot season of the year. In autumn the dace bites best at mid-day, when the baits to be used are a gentle, a red worm, and a bullock's pith and brains, which dace, like chub, are fond of. Occasionally the barbelfisher using greaves will hook a dace. I do not think there is any other special remark to be made on this handsome fish, which, however, from its one or two peculiarities I considered worthy of a page to itself, and have therefore added this little supplement to my paper on its popular relation-the roach.

ASTLEY H. BALDWIN.

THE KING'S DAUGHTER.

(A LEGEND OF NORMANDY.)

[THE ballad of which the following verses are a translation is to be found in the "Normandie; Traditions et Legendes," of Madlle. Amelie Bosquet, who states that it is still (1845) sung in the environs of Saint Valery-en-Caux. Madlle. Bosquet hazards a conjecture that it was written on the occasion of the marriage of the Princess Catharine, daughter of Charles VI., with Henry V. of England-a singularly infelicitous guess, considering that the Queen of Henry V. not only did not die on her wedding night, but outlived her husband, and a second time married an Englishman.]

I.

The King has a daughter he fain would wed,
And a Prince of England seeks her bed;
But she turns away with a scornfu! glance-
She will wed with none but a knight of France.

II.

She has said to her suitor a haughty-Nay; She has turn'd from her sire in tears away; But her sister comes to implore the maid, "Tis for peace to our wounded France," she said.

III.

And when she came to leave the land, She tore the veil with a passionate hand: "Away," she cried, "nor check my glanceMy last on the happy shores of France."

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