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poor fellow had been punished sufficiently, and requested Mephistophiles to replace his flighty member. I had no sooner spoken than his shoulders regained their burden. Directly the man felt that his head was restored to its proper place, he first put up his hands to convince himself of the fact, and then, without casting a look around him, he made a dive under the blanket, cleared the steps at a bound, flew through the town with the speed of a hunted fox, and from that day to this nothing more of the great Fee Fo Fum, the Emperor of all the Conjurers, has ever been heard.

CHAPTER II.

Mephistophiles in Melton Mowbray, and some account of fox-hunting in the Quorn country.

I RETURNED to town, took possession of my seat in the House, and received the congratulations of my friends, among whom Lady Julia's were the most welcome. I showed her the MS. of my intended work, and her praises of it were of the most tender and flattering kind. By her direction I placed it in the hands of an influential publisher, who assured me it should go to press immediately. I saw my uncle very seldom. He was in raptures at my triumph, spoke of the leaders of his party, and of " the great William Pitt," but never mentioned the name of Dora. I thought it strange that he should so studiously avoid a subject which I supposed to be of the utmost interest to him; but as I did not like to enter into any conversation about the shameful deception that had been practised upon me, I was glad that the subject was avoided. Lord Melcombe presented me at court, and the king, I thought, received me very graciously. As parliament was soon afterward prorogued, I was glad that I only had occasion to vote on one or two unimportant questions; my policy being to see into the nature of parties before I attempted to take any prominent political station.

As it was the hunting season, I made a short visit to Melton Mowbray. But it was not so much with a desire

to enjoy the sport, as to strengthen a friendly intimacy I had first formed at Lady Julia's with the Duke of Cottesmore, an old sporting nobleman of great political influence, that I made a brief stay in the neighbourhood. His grace's princely mansion was situated in the centre of the hunt, and I was welcomed to it with a hospitality which strongly reminded me of the better times of English manners. He possessed

the finest stud of hunters and the best kennel of fox-hounds in the world, and nothing gave him so much satisfaction as a fine chase. Hunting was almost his sole occupation; he thought of little else; he talked of little else; he dreamed of little else. He cared not for politics when it interfered with his favourite pursuit. All the news that it was neces sary for him to know, he heard from his valet while arranging his toilet; but he would sooner listen to a narrative of a hard run, related by his first whipper-in, Jack Bounce (as strange a character as his master), than pay attention to an account of the most interesting debate that had ever filled the columns of "The Times." To make him a warm friend and a steady supporter was my sole object in coming to Melton, and I did not fail in my intentions.

The first morning I went out with the hounds there was a splendid field of sportsmen, all thorough Meltonians, dress ed in the best style, and mounted on the finest animals in the country. They were all grouped about early in the morning; some tightening girths, some mounting: grooms were in attendance leading off hacks, on which their masters had ridden to the place of meeting, who were now seated on thorough-bred hunters. The hounds had been thrown into cover, and were concealed among the furze. All was expectation and anxiety. The duke looked at his watch; he was getting fidgety. The backs of a few hounds became visible in the gorse, and one or two stole out; but Jack Bounce gave his whip a smack, and exclaimed, "Into cover, Filewood-back, Sneezer!" and the dogs disappeared immediately.

"I've an idea that we shan't find this morning," observed Lord Martingale, a young exquisite who had recently set up a hunting establishment in the neighbourhood.

"There's no fox here, I think!" remarked Sir Harry Crupper, taking an enormous pinch of rappee, and handing the box to his neighbour.

"Suppose we try yonder bed of osiers ?" said the Honourable Captain Flourish, lighting a cigar.

"Patience, gentlemen, patience!" exclaimed the duke, good-humouredly. "I would wager a cool hundred, that in five minutes the fox will be as much in a hurry as yourselves."

"Done," said Lord Albany, another exquisite of the modern school.

Every eye was now attracted towards the cover by the strong agitation of the furze in one direction. It began to shake as if a hurricane was passing over it. A few hounds were observed leaping rapidly through the gorse.

"Have at him, hounds!" shouted the duke, in an ecstasy of delight.

The cover became more violently disturbed. Every one made preparations for a start. The duke looked again at his watch, and then uttered a yell which one would have supposed might be heard in the other world. The horses appeared almost unmanageable, and exhibited as much impatience as their owners.

"Hark! hark to Brilliant!" shouted the huntsman to an old hound that uttered a faint challenge, as he raised his head above the mass of herbage by which he was nearly concealed. In a few seconds the deep-toned musical cry was repeated more distinctly by another dog; it was echoed here and there and everywhere; and in a moment the full chorus of the whole pack burst forth.

"Tally ho!" shouted a Quaker-looking, middle-aged gentleman, whom I took to be a neighbouring squire.

"There he goes!" screamed a ploughboy in a stunted alder-tree, as he pointed to the next field, where something was seen stealing rapidly by the side of the hedge.

And now the delightful music swelled upon the gale. Out came the dogs in full cry, their noses to the ground, their tails in the air, and leaping over one another's backs as if they were mad. A rush was made by the horsemen.

"Ware hounds! ware hounds!" exclaimed Jack Bounce. "Hold hard, gentlemen, and for God's sake don't ride over the dogs," shouted the duke.

"Give 'ein time!" said the squire.

Only three or four couple of hounds appeared to have taken the right scent; the rest were mixed up in the crowd of

horses, in what I thought inextricable confusion; but Jack Bounce and his assistant soon sent them on the right track after their companions, and I presently saw them all so close together, that you might have covered them with a sheet, and going at a killing pace over the very field in which the countryman had discovered the fox.

In an early part of the chase some of the exquisites were unhorsed, but no one stopped to pick them up. We were going over hedge and ditch; gate and brook; through ploughed fields and narrow lanes; up steep banks and down rugged hills, at a pace that tried the mettle of our steeds; and which no horse, unless his pedigree be untainted, can maintain for five minutes. In the first rank was the Duke of Cottesmore, whose fine manly figure sat well on a magnificent blood-horse, full sixteen hands high, that cleared every thing in the finest style. Near him were Mephistophiles and myself. Close behind rode the Squire, Jack Bounce, and Sir Harry Crupper. Several others were near at hand, and in the surrounding fields were seen the rest of the field hastening on in different directions-some trying to cut across; others hastening to meet their second horse; and at a little distance, two or three spirited hunters were observed at full gallop without riders.

"Your friend rides well," exclaimed his grace, as he turned his head to observe how Mephistophiles made a leap we had just passed. "That's a very ugly fence. I never saw a foreigner do the thing in such good style. Your horse too is as fine a thorough-bred as I ever saw.

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Ah! thought I, if he had seen us going up the Brocken, he would not appear surprised at our present proceedings. We both rode the same coal-black coursers that had carried us to the Witch's Jubilee.

The fox led us an amazing distance, and tried all the arts for which he is famous, in endeavouring to escape from his pursuers. He entered a farmyard, sought shelter in a garden, ran along the top of a narrow wall, and by short turns and various other manœuvres tried hard to throw the dogs off the scent; but he was betrayed in every instance, and he again took to the open field, in the hope of finding safety in a distant coppice.

Very few of the field were now visible. The Duke of Cottesmore had succeeded in finding his second horse, and as I still kept by his side, the delay occasioned by my wait

ing for him threw us considerably in the rear, so much so that we lost sight of the hounds. Seeing, however, two or three red-coats in the distance, we went forward at a tremendous pace in that direction. Just as I was on the point of dashing at a double quickset hedge, appropriately strengthened with a few stiff elders, in sporting phraseology termed a rasper, I heard a voice familiar to me exclaim,

"Steer to the larboard! steer to the larboard! shift your helm, or you'll run foul o'me, by God!" As I could not see any one, I continued on my course; and as I made the leap, I observed in the middle of the hedge beneath me, kicking and sprawling like a porpoise in a pail, my old acquaintance Sir Antler Taffrail. His face was so scratched that I should scarcely have known him. He screamed with fright, and kicked his thick legs about with all his strength when he saw me coming upon the very place where he lay; but I passed over his body without doing him any injury. "Who is that," inquired the duke.

I told him. It seemed that the admiral's character was well known in the neighbourhood, where he occasionally made his appearance; and his evil stars having induced him to join the hunt, he was deposited in his present situation, from whence he could not escape, and was ridden over by every one of the field who had taken that leap. I heard afterward that some farm labourers extricated him from his perilous position.

We were now going over an extensive ploughed field, which led towards a narrow lane. The only outlet was a five-barred gate placed on the top of a high slippery bank. I went over it; the duke immediately followed, but his horse slipped as he took the leap, splintered off the top of the gate, and fell with great force into the lane, pitching his rider far over his head against the opposite bank. I thought both were killed, for they lay without motion. I instantly alighted and paid every attention to his grace. His hunting-cap had been knocked on one side, and exposed his short silvery hair, and his fine ruddy face was almost covered with dirt. To my great satisfaction, not many minutes elapsed before I observed signs of returning life.

"Where's Nimrod ?" were the first words he uttered, as, in a state of considerable weakness, he tried to walk. We then examined the horse. At that moment the full of the hounds were heard, and the animal started to its

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