uotes relating to Cranbourne Chase, exemplify the importance in which hawks were then held, and the value they bore. No. 1. Addressed To Thos. Chañin, esq., at Mr. Loyds, in Grecue Streete, to be delivered when he comes to London. Ffrank, Lon don." "Sr, "I have a man now in London that can carry hawkes: pray, as soon as this comes to your handes, goe to Mr. Chiffinch, and, if the hawkes are come in, send me down, by my man, the largest and hansomest hawkes that are brought over in the Rushian shipps: my man lodges at collonel Coker's lodging; Mr. Andrew Loder can inform you where Mr. Coker lodges; if my man bringes down the hawkes it will save me 30s. a-piece, and he will bring them more carefully than another, and there will be no fear of changing the hawkes. If my man stays three or four days, if the hawkes are not come in, I shall be contented; but, if there be no expectation of the hawkes coming in, let my man come away presently, and I will desire Mr. Mompesson to bring down the hawkes, but you must make some private marke in them, and send me word what it is, that I ma be sure that they may not be changed. "I am "our kinsman and servant, II. May ye 1st 1682. "Sr, "The hawke you sent me to keep is now a burden; for I have a cast besides, and I cannot get good meat for them, soe that you must dispose of her, being a beautifull Moscowy hawke. She is every bodis munney; from the marchant she is worth £10. I paid Mr. Mompesson's man for bringing her down, 10s. I have made her a good conditioned hawke, and killed a brace of pheasants with her; I would not do so much for another man if he would have given me £5. Your hawke is full of flesh, and very brisky. John Downes, at George Downes's house, on Newington Casway, will get you a chapman for the hawke. I have paid Mr Coker 20s. for keep of your gellding, and one shilling to the man. The dog you had from the king is mangy from top to "If I should not see you before I go towards Newmarket (the end of this month), don't think me ill natured or disrespectful. I shall, for near a fortnight be tumbling up and downe in Dorset and Wilts, till I have got up some money to make up part of my engagements, but I doubt I shan't all. I could lodge a night with good content at your house, were my friend Mrs. Nancy well, to help prattle with me, and had I a new half ginney to be out of my maid Mary's debt, which, indeed, I tried to get in London, of the quiners, of whom I am promissed. I shall thinke of providing some present for her father, to reimburs him for his trouble and charge to feed and take care of my loose hawkes; but, that you may take no advantage of any promisse, and another reason more powerful, only add that I am your nameless friend." “September 16-90.” Mr. Iloratio Smith, in his agreeable volume on "Festivals, Games, and Amusements," mentions that, "latterly, the duke of St Alban's hereditary grand falconer has imported hawks from Germany, and has attempted to revive the noble art of falconry; the expense, however, of a hawking establishment is so considerable, and the sport itself so little adapted to an enclosed country, that the example docs not seem likely to be generally followed." SONG. By the heath stood a lady, Happy falcon !" she cried, "Who can fly where he list, And can choose in the forest The tree he loves best! "Thus, too, had I chosen One knight for mine own. Have envied my joy; As to thee, lovely summer! Returns the birds' strain, As on yonder green linden The leaves spring again, So constant doth grief At my eyes overflow, And wilt not thou, dearest, Return to me now? "Yes, come my own hero, All others desert! My own chosen knight!" The names of the different species of hawks, and the terms used in hawking, with various particulars concerning the value of hawks, their caparisoning, the fondness of ladies and clergy for the sport, and its antiquity, with accompanying engravings, form a chapter in "Strutt's Sports and Pastimes," lately published in octavo. Mr. Strutt's work has been rarely referred to in the preceding columns, because that volume was edited by the compiler of the Year Book, and is probably in the hands of the present reader. POETRY. TRUE LOVE. I cannot hide from thee how much I fear So may I lose my hawk ere he can spring, Borne from my hand by some bold falcon's wing, Mangled and torn before my very eye, So, with my shield on neck, mid storm and rain, With vizor blinding me, and shortened rein, THE BANISHED LOVER. Lady, since thou hast driven me forth, Such joy as I have seen before, So courteous, gentle, debonair,- Fair Sembelis! I'll steal from thee; Yet rich thou still shalt be, In whom we see Will beg that neck of ivory white, To grant her locks more bright than those And, Andiartz, though on me thou frown, To all the numbers that resort And Bels Mirails shall crown the whole, [To Mr. Hone. DON. Sir,I believe you are no sportsman, and, if so, you will hardly be able to sympathise with the long regard I have had for a favorite dog, which has tempted me, at this genial season of the year, to offer a slight sketch and account of him for the Year Book. To such of your readers as delight, like myself, in field sports, the following may be interesting, or at least amusing. I arm no penman, and no scholar; indeed, I have heard it hinted that very few of my fraternity are. Without waiting to combat those worthies who pride themselves on their elegant ignorance of every thing that relates to the sports of the field, I shall, en passant, wish them every happiness in their own way, and, at the same time, beg to assure them that with Don, my double-barrel, and a decent sprinkle of birds (which last, by the way, this season has kindly afforded), I never envy any man. To proceed, then, which I must in my own plain way-if ever dog deserved to have his name recorded, or his portrait preserved, it is the one whose likeness accompanies this. It is well known that every one's dog is the best in England, in the owner's opinion; at least, when the merits of the animal are discussed, such is generally the wind-up of his qualities. I will not say so of Don, but this I can say, that I believe a better dog never entered a field, and all the necessary qualities of a pointer were centred in him. I should tell you this is the eleventh season I have hunted him, and, though he is now nearly thirteen years old, he can find game with most of the young ones. However, Don was young once; and, to begin with him from a whelp-he is what is termed a foxhound-pointer, his mother having been a true pointer; and his father a foxhound. It is more conimon to breed in this way now than it was at that time; for it has been proved that one dog bred upon this plan, after he is once steadied to his work, which requires more schooling than with the common pointer, is worth any brace of thorough-bred dogs for finding game: the fox-hound-pointer has more speed, a finer scent, and is far more lasting. Don was one of seven whelps, all of which died, excepting himself, before they were a month old. He was a weakly puppy for some months, and if he had ever taken the distemper would most probably have died too; but I had the precaution to vaccinate him, and he never had a touch of it: I have since vaccinated several hounds, as well as pointer-puppies, all of which have escaped, or had the disease very mildly. Don was nearly a twelve month old before he could be hunted at all, and he then, all at once, became such a riotous rascal, I had almost given him up, and began to think he never would stand, when, having tired him out one day, as I was returning home he happened to drop upon a hen pheasant, and made a most brilliant point; this gave me some hope, and, as he was remarkably handsome and strong built, I determined to conquer him. Most certainly I had a world of trouble, but he has amply repaid me since. Having so much hound in him he was very much given to chase, and babble too, when birds got up; but, after having a few knocked down to him, he became steady, and then it was he began to show the most extraordinary sagacity I ever saw a pointer possess. He was so fast that he would hunt a field before another dog could think about it; still his speed was good, for I seldom knew him to blink a bird. When in his prime, I have frequently backed him to find his birds in a ten acre field within two minutes, if the birds were in it; and this was one remarkable point in him,-that, on entering a field, he seemed to know by instinct where the birds would lie; for he would take a momentary survey, and then, generally, go clean up to them at once-an extremely pleasant dog for an idle man. You might sit on a gate while he hunted his field, and he would pretty soon tell you if there was any thing in it. His nose was so keen and good, that I have seen him in a brisk wind find his birds a hundred and fifty yards off across the furrows; and this after birds were marked down, and it was known they could not have run. He was, and now is, very tendermouthed, and would always bring his game without the slightest injury. He could tell, as well as myself, and sometimes better, whether a bird was hit, and many are the birds he has saved for me, and retrieved fields away from where I shot them. If a bird was hit, he would watch him till he topped the hedge, and then, if he once started, I always rested He satisfied I should bag my bird. would never chase a hare when she got up, unless he thought she was wounded, and then few greyhounds were fleeter. I have known him course a hare that had been hit, nearly a mile, straight a-head, and bring her safely to me. Some of my friends used to think I should spoil Don, from the variety of sport I used him for; such as pheasant, partridge, woodcock, snipe, hare, and any sort of water-fowl shooting, the latter especially he was extremely fond of. He has frequently stood a duck or moorhen, with the water running over his back at the time. If a rat was to be killed, Don was sure to be ready, and as good as any terrier at a rat's hole. To crown all, he was a rare dog for an otter, and has played a good part at the taking of two or three. In short, nothing could spoil him. He always knew his business, and, although he would rattle a wood like a lion, he was perfectly steady again the next minute, out of cover. I have seen him stand at game for nearly two hours without blenching; and at the same time looking as eager as if he would dash in every moment. In high turnips his action was very good; he would always contrive to show himself; standing sometimes on his hind legs only, so that his head and fore quarters might be seen; he would never drop on his game unless it was close to him. On one occasion I was shooting with a friend, when Don came at full speed, so suddenly, upon a hare, that he slipped up, and laid nearly on his back; he would not move, and my friend thought he was in a fit till madam jumped up, when she was killed, and Don righted himself. So extremely punctilious was he in backing another dog, when game was found, that he once caught sight of a point at the moment of jumping a stile, and actually balanced himself on the stile for several seconds, till he fell. But he was seldom called on to back; for, if two or three of his brethren were out with him, he pretty generally found all the game himself. He would, what is termed, point single; that is, if birds lay well in potatoes or turnips, for instance, and got up one by one, he would not leave his point till all were gone, unless by a turn of the head, or a step, to show where the next bird lay; I have in this way had seven shots to him without his moving a leg. He generally stood very handsomely, with his head and stern well up, and remarkably firin and bold; as if he was conscious of his own beauty and worth. There are many sportsmen who sally forth solely with the idea of getting as much game as they can, and care little for their dogs, as long as they do but get birds; I should term these gentlemen what that best of sportsmen, Col. Hawker, would call them, pot-hunters. For my own part, I think the action of my dogs constitutes one half of the enjoyment; and, if the circumstance of a dog pointing at all be considered abstractedly, it is a matter of great admiration. What dog is there possessing the singular self-denial of the pointer or setter? The hound gives full play to his feelings; chases and babbles, and kicks up as much riot as he likes, provided he is true to his game; the spaniel has no restraint, excepting being kept within gunshot; the grey-hound has it all his own way as soon as he is loosed; and the terrier watches at a rat's hole because be can't get into it; but the pointer, at the moment that other dogs satisfy them selves, and rush upon their game, suddenly stops, and points with almost breathless anxiety to that which we might naturally suppose he would eagerly seize. No! this is my master's, and not mine! To-ho's the word, and here I am till he comes up, or the birds are off of themselves. They run, he creeps after cautiously and carefully, stopping at intervals, lest, by a sudden movement, he should spring them too soon. And then observe and admire his delight when his anxiety, for it is anxiety, is crowned with success; when the bird alls, and he lays it joyfully at his master's tee Oh! a pointer should never be ill-used he is too much like one of us he has more headpiece than all the rest of the dog tribe put together. Narrowly watch a steady pointer on his game, and see how he holds his breath. It is evident he must stand in a certain degree of pain, for we all know how quickly a dog respires; and when he comes up to you in the field he puffs and blows, and the tongue is invariably hanging out of the mouth. You never see this on a point; and to check it suddenly must give the dog pain; the effort to be quiet, with fetching the breath deeply, causes, at intervals, a sudden hysteric gasp, which he cannot by any possibility prevent till he can breathe freely again: I have often thought of the burning sensation a dog must have at his chest just at this time. I cannot help therefore looking on the pointer as the most perfect artist of the canine race; and any one who has studied the sundry callings of our sundry dogs, must, I think, agree with me. On two occasions Don signalized himself particularly before two or three friends; the first of these would appear almost incredible, but it is fact; late in the month of August, 1826, I was hunting him with a puppy that was then in the field for the second or third time; as I wanted to show him birds previous to the season; Don found some birds very handsomely, about the middle of the field; the puppy had been jumping and gambolling about, with no great hunt in him, and upon seeing the old dog stand, ran playfully up to him, when Don deliberatey seized him by the neck, gave him a good shaking, which sent him back howling to me, and then turned round and steadied himself on his point, without moving scarcely a yard. I have heard that no animal can put two ideas together, but I think Don showed here that he could. What was it but as much as to say, "You fool! let me alone; don't you see what I'm about? Don't bother me!" At all events, it struck me and my friends so it was evident from the old dog's manner that he intended it as a proper correction. At another time I was shooting with a friend in the isle of Sheppey, where the birds were very plentiful that season: we had a brace of dogs out, Don, and a white setter. In one field, which was nearly forty acres, we had found several covies, when Don, taking the hedge-row, stood very staunch nearly at the end of the field;-an old sportsman will say, what business had he there before the field was properly hunted; but if Don has a fault, it is being rather too fond of a hedge when another dog is with him. As we were walking up, the setter stood between us and Don, about 200 yards from the latter; we at first thought he was backing the other, but, upon coming near to him, we found he had birds of his own; and first come first served. We walked to him, when the birds rose, and we both killed the old dog turned his head upon hearing the guns, and actually saw the birds fall; but, knowing he was right himself, he stuck to his own game, and continued perfectly steady. We could |