In a wild and romantic part of the county of Monmouth stands a house of goodly dimensions, but time-worn and dilapidated; from its structure and position a stranger would at once pronounce it "a fine old place," and, were he cognizant of its history, would sigh in contrasting its present mouldering appearance with its dignity in former days. This house and the property attached to it had belonged to the Fulberts from the time of King John, and had been handed down from father to son in unbroken succession to the last century: with many other places, however, of similar pretensions, it had lately fallen to the lot of a great iron king, whose vast wealth enabled him to gain possession of the estates of the broken-down gentry as soon as they appeared in the market. Ned Fulbert was in petticoats when his father sold his patrimony; but, as it did not pass into the hands of the stranger for some years afterwards, Ned and his family continued to dwell there as tenants at will. Were you allowed to fix on a spot, suited beyond all others for pursuing field sports in their wildest form, Fulberton would be your choice. A bold and mountainous district in its rear abounded with grouse and woodcock; while, in front, extended as far as eye could ken, a fine grass champaign country, dotted here and there with dark patches of gorse or sedgy alder beds, where foxes "wild as the winds" were never wanting the rivers too, clear and sparkling as crystal, roared and foamed in their headlong descent from the mountains above, impatient of restraint; but on gaining the level land below, meandered so softly and calmly through the meadows, as though they were loth to leave the fair and fertile scenery. Here the otter revelled, scourge of the deep: salmon, sewin, and trout supplied him with "a dainty dish;" while he and they, in their turn, afforded a never ending feast to the experienced craftsman who followed the waters. Surely any son of Dian might here pitch his tent, and not envy the Prince of Abyssinia his happy valley.

Ned's father kept an hereditary pack of hounds, an heir-loom attached to the estate it consisted of about 20 couple of trencher hounds, which were distributed among his tenants and the neighbouring farmers, and which were collected during the night previous to hunting. When all was still, and they had been turned out from the fireside at their walks, to seek their several straw lodgings, the sound of the horn might be heard at a great distance, and thus scarcely a hound was ever missing in the kennel complement, and they were usually in condition to do a hard and a good day's work. It was Ned's particular delight long before he had entered his teens, to accompany Harry Shôn the huntsman on his gathering expeditions, and with a small bugle-horn, slung by a belt to his shoulder, he blew as sweet a note as ever hound listened to; though the night were dark, dreary, and tempestuous, he rejoiced the

more in the undertaking, and with a perfect knowledge of the country, his disposition, kind and energetic, often led him to relieve Harry of the more distant work in the mountainous district: here by night or day he was never at a loss-his natural instinct being equal to that of the carrier pigeon when pointing to his home.

Scenes of this kind formed an appropriate school for the young sportsman, and the wild, lofty, charms of nature among which he revelled, had undoubtedly a permanent effect on the character and bent of his mind.

Sequestered nature was his heart's delight."

Ere we proceed, however, with Ned's history, let us pause for a moment to explain how the ruin and downfal of the family came to pass, and how Ned, unlike his peers in point of station, was left to run wild as a mountain colt, without culture or education. His father was addicted to gaming in every form, but more especially to cock-fighting (in those days it was not considered a disreputable amusement for gentlemen) and to foot-racing, which he patronized to a fearful extent. These habits led him much from home; and even when there, he usually contrived by intemperance to forget the misery he was entailing on his family; many are the stories current at the present day, in that country, of tricks adopted by sharpers to rob him of his money, one of which, as a fact, may be adduced by way of illustration.

At no great distance from Fulberton lived a famous foot-racer called "Prince," who was backed to run ten miles across country against any Glamorganshire man for a large sum of money; an opponent was soon found, upon whom the men of Glamorgan pinned their faith; he was called Gitto-nith-brân, which in English means Crow's-nest-Gitto, and from the description of him in a Welsh ballad which commemorates the race, we may infer that he was a man of enormous muscle and agile limb. The ground selected for the race was from Stowe near Newport to Bedwas tower in the mountains. Thousands were pending on the match, both parties being equally confident of the success of their own countyman, and none had staked heavier than old Fulbert: there was another present, however, who to every appearance had wagered his all in favour of Prince, and who contrived to bribe a man called Watkin-yTinker to blow his horn at Craig-y-rakka, an eminence about two miles from the goal, if Prince were ahead, in order that he might hedge or double his bets as the case might be; this scheme he communicated to old Fulbert as a profound secret; the thing, however, got wind, and "Wat" was counter-bribed with a larger sum by the opposite party to blow a blast if Gitto were leading. The race was a terrific one up to the point where Wat was stationed, and there they were met by a stiff five-barred gate, over which Gitto bucked like a deer, but Prince fell heavily as he attempted to take it, and at once gave up the contest. Wat now blew his horn, and the Prince party, hearing the signal, readily made offers to double their bets, which of course were as readily_accepted. The event proved ruinous to many, but especially to old Fulbert, and Wat having acted the double traitor was positively obliged to leave the country for many years, or his life would probably have paid the penalty.

Ned's mother, poor soul, was an invalid, and her affectionate and in

dulgent nature would not permit her to interfere with or check Ned's out-of-door amusements; sometimes indeed her maternal solicitude stepped in to remonstrate with the father as to Ned's future destination, and to imply the necessity of at least a rudimental education; but still nothing was done to ensure it, and the boy had actually attained his fourteenth year ere he could read fluently or write legibly. A fit of remorse, however, one day seized upon the sire, and, greatly to the joy of Ned's fond mother, she was told that her son was to be sent to Dr. W.'s, in Glamorganshire.

Accordingly, in a few days afterwards, Ned was mounted on "Boiling Billy," and, agreeably to his request, Harry Shôn, upon old Rosemary, was allowed the honour of escorting him to school, some 20 miles distant. Tender and heart-touching was the parting between mother and son; Ned felt a lump in his throat that well nigh choked him, a suffocating sensation that he had never before experienced; and fast ran the tears down his kind parent's cheeks as she blessed her son, and hade him never forget to say his prayers night and morning, for that no blessing would attend him in after-life if he neglected so great a duty. His father gave him a guinea, and told him "not to ride Boiling Billy's tail off on the road, nor to take a blow from any one as long as he had a leg to stand on.'

Ned was in his saddle, and Harry lingered a while to look for "Pipes," the tough black-and-tan terrier, which he said would cheer up master Ned on the journey, and make a monstrous useful companion to him while at school; no objection being made, Pipes came to the holloa, and away they all trotted in moody silence down the chestnut avenue. They soon reached the main road, when Ned proposed taking a rugged bridle path that would lead them by a shorter cut over the mountain into the Vale of Glamorgan ; but Harry objected on the score that if in ascending the hills the girth of the saddle-bags should slip back under old Rosemary's belly, "she'd kick her shoes off before she'd move another yard." Ned volunteered Boiling Billy's back for the saddle-bags; but it was no go, and the elder prevailed.

Arrived at school, the upper dormitory was assigned as Ned's kennel, where, with seven others, he was destined to lodge, with one small window in the room, and a pump in the court-yard for the purpose of ablutions. The pump (or one arm'd landlady, as it has been facetiously called) is particularly alluded to as having been the scene of Ned's first triumph in the pugilistic art. On the third morning after his arrival, he was busily engaged pumping with one hand and washing his face with. the other, when a bully of the lower room bobbed him in the back, and brought his head and shoulders at once under the full stream of the pump. Ned's pride mantled on his brow; he jumped round, and instantly resented the injury by blacking his friend's eye: bullies are always cowards, and Ned after a few rounds was declared victor. This encounter established his reputation, and being considered a dangerous customer, he was allowed to go in peace ever after by his schoolfellows, among whom he became a very general favourite. But the Doctor soon eyed him with far different feelings; he saw in him an absolute indisposition to books, a spirit fraught with insubordination, and ready to conceive or execute any lawless plot that might serve to endanger the reputation of his school; added to which, every moment he could crib between school

hours was sedulously devoted to field sports of every description: no matter whether in season or out of season, all was game to him.

Ned's ruling passion was "the canine (not however of the bainboo genus, for there he was feel-ine)," and many a time did he get into woful scrapes on account of his dogs. His mode of feeding them was altogether predatory, for he had a nose like a raven for discovering carrion; and when that was not to be had, every lad at the breakfast table was called upon to "bowl up" his quota of roll towards their maintenance. The pockets of his shooting coat were vastly capacious, and could stow away half a dozen bottles of milk, which were also supplied by general contribution; in his turn he invited his friends to feed upon the game which he had killed, and which was usually cooked at a neighbouring baker's, and this mutual arrangement pleased and suited all parties. The Doctor, however, discovered the system, and though as liberal as any pedagogue in the world, had reason to know that his pigs were the sufferers thereby so waylaying Ned one morning, he caused him to disgorge, sentenced him to a flogging, and banished him out of his house to lodgings in the town. As to the castigation, Ned made sundry queer grimaces in preparing himself for it, the absurdities of which the Doctor could not resist, but putting up his handkerchief pretended to cough. "God help you," said Ned; "you have got a very bad cold." The Doctor dropped the rod, burst into a roar, and ordered Ned to his seat without inflicting a single lash. As to the lodgings, here was a fine field opened for Ned's diversions, which he could now pursue without interruption out of school-hours; and instead of regarding it as a disgrace, he was really delighted at the arrangement. The next project was building a corracle-a small wicker work boat covered with canvas, and afterwards pitched and tarred over, which he intended to use for dragging the river with a trammel net; the management of it, however, required great dexterity, for the slightest movement towards one-side capsized it instantly; in order to become familiar with its use, he usually stripped and got into it naked, and then whether it upset or not was a matter of perfect indifference to him, as he could swim like a murre.

A conceited burgess of the town, a sort of Mayor of Garratt, who was sorely henpecked by his wife, was the first whom Ned induced to make trial of his frail bark. Ned owed him a grudge, and this chance of retaliation immediately occurred to him; the burgess had already been wetted through by a heavy shower of rain in the morning, and his wife poured another shower of invectives upon his extravagance in being obliged to put on his Sunday clothes during a week day. Ned happened to fall in with him just as he was smarting under the last shower, and he challenged him to take a row in his corracle, which he professed was much at his service; the pompous townsman returned thanks, boasted that he had often rowed about as a boy in a wash-tub, and that he was sure he could manage a corracle. Deluded mortal! he was never so mistaken in his life. Ned accordingly appointed to meet him at the great weir-pond in an hour, which time Ned industriously employed in giving notice that a public baptism was to take place there and then, and that all who repaired thither might be sure of beholding a most unusual spectacle; the whole town was accordingly posted on the banks of the river, much to the astonishment of the navigator; but he being a "bold" one, jumped at once into the corracle, and Ned shoved off.

The yawing of a paper kite in the air, when it has lost its tail, would exactly describe the action of the bark; in less than half a minute the burgess was under, and the corracle on top of him; the matter soon became serious, and it was with no little difficulty that he was dragged out, in a state of demi-existence, by the bystanders. On returning to reason and to his home he was ordered at once to bed, for that " he had no more clothes to put on, and that if he had, certainly no more to spoil."

Ned's plan of snipe-shooting was unique; about a mile from the school extended a large swampy moor which abounded with snipe almost all the year round. After morning school, between the hours of twelve and half past two, he generally repaired with gun and dogs to the edge of the moor; there he divested himself of his shoes, stockings, and trowsers, wearing nothing but his shirt, shooting coat, and hat; after knocking down (as he did before they squeaked to alarm each other), his three or four couple, he would return to school in his dry clothes, without causing the slightest suspicion of the sport he had been engaged in.

Polecat hunting by night was another diversion to which he was passionately addicted, and on many occasions he has been known to walk off at night-fall to a connexion of his mother's, who lived about nine miles distant, and kept a pack of rough black-and-tan hounds, staunch upon otter and polecat, and after much hard work and lots of sport, return in time for school hours in the morning.

The Doctor at last got tired of his wild friend, and wrote to his father to remove him. Ned took the hint, and not fancying the reception he might meet with at home, removed himself to the connexion's house to whom we have just alluded, where he was kindly and cordially received.

The old Justice was a sportsman, and loved the lad not more for the warm and generous disposition which he ever evinced, than because he appreciated his capabilities in the field, and foresaw that experience alone was wanting to make him a professor in woodcraft. He had scarcely been settled a month in his new home, when the squire called his attention to the hunting season which was now approaching, and alluding to his own advanced age, and the infirmities he had contracted whilst with his regiment in Egypt, proposed that Ned should continue to live with him and undertake the mastership of his pack, whilst he himself defrayed the expenses. Without waiting to consider what his angered sire might think of the measure, Ned accepted the offer as cordially as 'twas given.

Youth and inexperience generally go together; but Ned, at the age of eighteen, in taking the management of the black-and-tan pack, which was at once consigned to him, manifested a knowledge and observation that would have done credit to the oldest craftsman. His first object in breeding was to impart a dash of pure blood to the kennel; for the 66 Black and Tans though eminent throughout the country for their courage, perseverance, and nose, were deficient in that one point wherein the English foxhound is so distinguishable-going ahead. Accordingly the Duke of B- was applied to for a stallion, and he very kindly granted the request. The produce both in the first and second generations realized their utmost expectations; a description of hound was bred possessing every qualification for hunting, in their season, fox and