I could answer for a plate from the county members. Indeed, it surprises me, rather, that the idea has not before occurred to some gentleman in the vicinity."

"Cousin Caddy, it has!" exclaimed Cuddle; "our respected friend and relation, up stairs, gave away a dozen smock-frocks and a bundle of waggon-whips, for seven successive years; and would, doubtless, have done so to this day, had not his misfortune deprived him of the power. The prizes were contested for, regularly, on the second day of the fair,-which then took place on the common,immediately after the pig with the greasy tail was caught; and the boys had eaten the hot rolls, sopped in treacle; and the women had wrestled for the new gown; and —”

"Women wrestle!" exclaimed one of the Honourable Charles Caddy's friends.

"Mr. Cuddle is quite correct, sir,” replied young Tom Horner, who had lately come into possession of a snug estate in the neighbourhood; "I have seen them wrestle, in various other parts of the county, as well as on our common."

“Never heard of such savages since the day I drew breath! Egad! never, I protest!" said the gentleman who had interrupted Caddy Cuddle.

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Why, it's bad enough, I must admit," said Horner; "but I think I heard you boast that you were a man of Kent, just now, sir; and, as I am told, the women of that county play cricketmatches very frequently. Now, in my opinion, there is not a very great difference between a female match at cricket, on a common, and a feminine bout at wrestling, in a ring. In saying this, I beg to observe that I mean no offence."

“I take none; I protest I see no occasion,—no pretence for my taking umbrage.—I am not prepared to question the fact,"— added the speaker, turning toward his host; "not prepared to question the fact, you observe, after what has dropped from the gentleman; although, with permission, on behalf of the women of Kent, I take leave to declare, that I never heard of their indulging in such an amusement, before the gentleman mentioned it."

"Well, sir," said Caddy Cuddle, who had been very impatient, all this time, to blazon the generosity and spirit of his friend, Caddy Caddy; "I was going on to state, that, after the gold-laced hat was grinned for, through a horse-collar; the pig was caught, and so forth, the expense of all which pastimes Caddy Caddy bore;-the waggon-horse-race was run, for the whips and frocks."

"A waggon-horse-race!" said the gentleman of Kent; "I beg pardon; did I hear you correctly?—Am I to understand you, as having positively said—a waggon-horse-race?"

"Certainly, sir," said Tom Horner; "and capital sport it is: I have been twice to Newmarket, and once to Doncaster; I know a little about racing; I think it a noble, glorious, exhilarating sport; but, next to the first run I saw for the St. Leger, I never was half so delighted with any thing, in the shape of racing, as when Billy Norman, who now keeps the west gate of Caddy Park here, exactly sixteen years ago, come August, won the whips on the common.

"Indeed!" simpered the gentleman of Kent, gazing at Tom Horner, as though he were a recently imported nondescript.

“Billy, on that occasion, rode most beautifully;" continued Horner; "he carried the day in fine style, coming in, at least seven lengths, behind all his competitors."

"If I may be allowed," observed the gentleman of Kent, "you would say, before.”

"Not at all, sir; not at all;" exclaimed Caddy Cuddle; "draught horses are not esteemed as valuable in proportion to their speed: in the waggon-horse-race no man is allowed to jockey his own animal; the riders are armed with tremendous long whips; their object is to drive all their companions before them; he that gets in last, wins: and so, sir, they slash away at each other's horses;—then, sir, there's such shouting and bellowing; such kicking, rearing, whinnying, galloping, and scrambling, that it would do a man's heart good to look at it. Poor Caddy Caddy used to turn to me, and say, as well as his laughter would let him,—' What are your Olympic games,―your feats, and fine doings at the tombs of your old Greek heroes, that you prate about, compared with these, cousin Cuddle?"

The Honourable Charles Caddy smiled, and bit the inner part of his lip with vexation: he now tried to give the conversation another turn, and introduced the chase; thinking that it was a very safe subject, as Caddy Caddy had never kept a pack of hounds. "I feel very much inclined," said he, "anxious as I am to forward the amusement of my neighbours, to run up a kennel, beyond the rookery, at the north end of the park,-where there is very good air, and a fine stream of water,—and invite my friend, Sir Harry Parton, to hunt this country, for a couple of months during the season. One of my fellows says, that there are not only numbers

of foxes in the neighbourhood, but what is still better, a few,—a very few,-of those stags, about which we have heard so much. I think I have influence enough with Sir Harry to persuade him; at all events,, I'll invite him; and if he should have other existing engagements, I pledge myself,—that is, if such a step would be agreeable, to hunt the country myself."

"Our respected and unfortunate friend, cousin Caddy," said Cuddle, “had a little pack of dogs—"

"A pack of dogs, indeed, they were, Mr. Cuddle," interrupted young Horner; "five or six couple of curs, that lurked about the Castle, gentlemen, which we used sometimes to coax down to the river, and spear or worry an otter; and, now and then, wheedle away to the woods, at midnight, for a badger-hunt, after drinking more ale than we well knew how to carry. I was a boy then, but I could drink ale by the quart."

Ay, ay!" exclaimed Caddy Cuddle, "those were famous times! 'Tis true, I never went out with you, but I recollect very well how I enjoyed poor Caddy Caddy's animated descriptions of the badger-hunt, when he came back."

"Oh! then you hunted badgers, did you?" said the gentleman of Kent to Tom Horner, in a sneering tone, that produced a titter all round the table.

'Yes, sir,—we hunted badgers," replied Tom; " and capital sport it is, too, in default of better."

"I dare say it is," said the gentleman of Kent.

"Allow me to tell you then, sir, that there is really good sport in badger-hunting; it is a fine, irregular sort of pastime, unfettered by the systematic rules of the more aristocratic sports. The staghunt and the fox-chase, are so shackled with old ordinances and covert-side statutes, that they remind me of one of the classical dramas of the French: a badger-hunt is of the romantic school;— free as air, wild as mountain breezes;-joyous, exhilarating, uncurbed, and natural as one of our Shakspeare's plays. Barring an otter-hunt, (and what's better still, according to Caddy Cuddle's account, who has been in the North Seas, the spearing of a whale,) there are few sports that suit my capacity of enjoyment, so well as badger-bagging.-Just picture to yourself, that you have sent in a keen terrier, no bigger than a stout fitchet, or thereabouts, to ascertain that the badger is not within; that you have cleverly bagged the hole, and stuck the end of the mouth-line in the fist of a patient, but wary and dexterous clod-hopper; (an old, lame,

D

broken-down, one-eyed gamekeeper, is the best creature on earth for such an office;)—and then, what do you do?—Why, zounds! every body takes his own course, with or without dogs, as it may happen; hunting, yelping, hallooing, and beating every brake for half a mile, or more, round, to get scent of the badger. Imagine the moon, 'sweet huntress of yon azure plain,' is up, and beaming with all her brillianey; the trees beautifully basking in her splendour; her glance streaming through an aperture in an old oak, caused by the fall of a branch, by lightning, or bluff Boreas, and fringing the mallow-leaf with silver; the nightingale, in the brake, fascinating your ear; the glow-worm delighting your eye:—you stand, for a moment, motionless;-the bat whirrs above your head and the owl, unaccustomed to the sight of man, in such deep solitudes, flaps, fearless, so near as to fan your glowing forehead with his wings: when suddenly you hear a shout,-a yell,-two or three such exclamations as-"There a' ees!'-Thic's he!'-'At 'un, Juno!'-'Yonder a goath!'-'Hurrah!'-' Vollow un up!''Yaw awicks!' and 'Oh! my leg!'—You know by this, that 'the game's a foot;'-you fly to the right or left, as the case may be, skimming over furzy brake, like a bird, and wading through tangled briar, as a pike would, through the deeps of a brook, after a trout that is lame of a fin. You reach the scene of action; the badger is before, half a score of tykes around, and the yokels behind you.' Hark forward! have at him!' you enthusiastically cry; your spirits are up;-you are buoyant-agile as a roe-buck; -your legs devour space-you-”

"My dear fellow, allow me to conclude," interrupted Caddy. Cuddle, "for your prose Pegasus never can carry you through the hunt at this rate. To be brief, then,-according to what I have heard from my never-to-be-sufficiently-lamented friend, Caddy Caddy,—the badger, when found, immediately makes for his earth: if he reach it without being picked up and taken, he bolts in at the entrance; the bag receives him; its mouth is drawn close by the string; and thus the animal is taken.-But, odds! while I talk of those delights, which were the theme of our discourse in the much-regretted days of Caddy Caddy, I forget that time is on the wing.—I suppose no one is going my way.”

"I am," replied Tom Horner, "in about three hours' time." "Ay, ay! you're younger, friend Horner, than I have been these fifteen years," said Cuddle; "time was, before Caddy Caddy lost his wits, when he and I have sat over midnight together, as

merry as crickets; but since his misfortune, I have become a very altered man. "Prima nocte domum claude:'-that has been my motto for years past. Mrs. Watermark, my good housekeeper, is, I feel convinced, already alarmed; and it would not become me, positively to terrify her: besides, I am not on very intimate terms with my horse, which I borrowed from my friend, Anthony Mutch, of Mallow Hill, for this occasion: the roads, too, have been so cut and carved about, by the Commissioners,-doubtless, for very wise purposes, since poor Caddy Caddy's time, that I had much ado to find my way in the broad day-light; and these spectacles, I must needs say, although I reverence the donor, are not to be depended on, so implicitly as I could wish. Let me see—ay—'tis now twelve years ago, from my last birth-day, since they were presented to me; and, believe me, I've never had the courage to wear them before. I hate changing,—especially of spectacles; I should not have put them on now-confound them!-had it not been for Mrs. Watermark, who protested my others were not fit to be seen in decent society."

"Under the circumstances you have mentioned," said the Honourable Charles Caddy, "I must press you to accept of a bed. Pray, make the Castle your own; you will confer an obligation on me by remaining."

"Cousin Caddy," replied Cuddle, rising from his seat, and approaching his host, whose hand he took between both his own; "I rejoice to find so worthy a successor of poor Caddy Caddy, master of Caddy Castle. It would be most pleasing to me, if it were possible, to remain; and, I do protest, that I positively would, were it not for the feelings of Mrs. Watermark,—a most worthy and valuable woman, who is now, perhaps, sitting on thorns on my account. But I feel so grateful to you,—so happy in your society, that I will actually quaff another bumper, previously to taking my stirrup-cup; yea, and truly, were honest Jack Cole—old king Cole, as we used to call him, in Caddy Caddy's days,—were Jack here, with his fine bass voice, I would actually proffer a stave or so,— say, for instance, the Dialogue between Time and the Drinkers,— if Tom Horner would chime in, as he used to do when a boy, here, in this very room, with honest Jack, poor Caddy Caddy, and myself, in times past.-Honest Jack! most excellent Jack! rare king Cole! would he were here!"

"I should be sorry, cousin," said the Honourable Charles Caddy, "to have omitted, in my invitation-list, the name of so