dow-land before us, the pack streaming along the side of a high thick hedge that bounds it on our left; the south wind fans my face and lifts my hair, as I slacken my horse's rein and urge him to his speed. I am alongside of Frank. I could ride anywhere now, or do anything. I pass him with a smile and a jest. I am the foremost with the chase. What is ten years of common life, one's feet upon the fender, compared to five such golden minutes as these? The hounds stop suddenly, and after scattering and spreading themselves into the form of an open fan, look up in my face with an air of mute bewilderment. The huntsmen and the field come up, the gentlemen in a high state of delight and confusion, but Mr. Tippler in the worst of humours, and muttering as he trots off to a corner of the meadow with the pack about his horses' heels:

'Rode 'em slap off the scentdrove 'em to a check-wish she was at home and a-bed and asleep, and be d-d to her!'

A grim old lady who has but one eye, and answers to the name of Jezebel,' has threaded the fence, and proclaims in anything but a sweet voice to her comrades, that she has discovered the line of our fox. They join her in an instant, down go their heads in concert, and away we all speed again, through an open gate, across a wide common, into a strip of plantation, over a stile and footboard that leads out of it, and I find myself once more following Captain Lovell, with Cousin John alongside of me, and all the rest far, far behind. This is indeed glorious. I should like it to go on till dinner time. How I hope we shan't kill the fox.

Take hold of his head, Kate,' says my cousin, whose horse has just blundered on to his nose through a gap, even White-Stockings wont last for ever, and this is going to be something out of the common.'

Forward! is my reply as I point with my whip towards the lessening pack, now a whole field a-head of us, forward!' If we hadn't been going such a pace I could have sung for joy.

There is a line of pollarded willowtrees down in that hollow, and the

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hounds have already left these behind them; they are rising the opposite ground. Again Frank Lovell looks anxiously back at me, but makes no sign.

'We must have it, Kate!' says John, there's your best place, under the tree; send him at it as hard as he can lay legs to the ground.'

I ply my whip and loosen my reins in vain. White-Stockings stops dead short, and lowers his nose to the water, as if he wanted to drink; all of a sudden the stream is behind me, and with a flounder and a struggle we are safe over the brook. Not so Cousin John; I see him on his legs on the bank, with his horse's head lying helplessly between his feet, the rest of that valuable animal being completely submerged.

'Go along, Kate!' he shouts encouragingly, and again I speed after Frank Lovell, who is by this time nearly a quarter of a mile ahead of me, and at least that distance behind the hounds. White-Stockings is going very pleasantly, but the ground is now entirely on the rise, and he indulges occasionally in a trot without any hint on my part; the fences fortunately get weaker and weaker; the fields are covered with stones, and are light good galloping enough, but the rise gets steeper every yard; round hills are closing in about us; we are now on the Downs, and the pack is still fleeting ahead, like a body of hounds in a dream, every moment increasing their distance from us, and making them more and more indistinct. Frank Lovell disappears over the brow of that hill, and I urge WhiteStockings to overtake my only companion. He don't seem to go much faster, for all that. I strike him once or twice with my light riding whip; I shake my reins, and he comes back into a trot; I rise in my stirrup and rouse his energies in every way I can think of. I am afraid he must be ill, the trot degenerates to a jog, a walk; he carries his head further out from him than is his wont, and treats curb and snaffle with a like disregard and callousness of mouth. Now he stops altogether, and catching a side view of his head, his eye appears to me more prominent than usual, and the whole animal seems

changed, till I can hardly fancy it is my own horse. I get a little frightened now, and look round for assistance. I am quite alone. Hounds, horsemen, all have disappeared: the wide, dreary, solitary Downs stretch around me, and I begin to have misgivings as to how I am to get back to Dangerfield Hall. Cousin John has explained it all to me since.

Nothing could be simpler, Kate,' said he, this evening, when I handed him his tea, 'you stopped your horse. If ladies will go in front with a loose rein for five and forty minutes' riding, jealous of such a first-rate performer as Frank Lovell, it is not an unlikely thing to happen. If you could have lasted ten minutes longer, you would have seen them kill their fox. Frank was the only one there, but he assures me he could not have gone another hundred yards. Never mind, Kate, better luck next time!'

Well, to return to my day. After a while, White-Stockings began to recover himself; I'm sure I didn't know what to do for him. I got off, and loosened his girth as well as I could, and turned his head to the wind, and wiped his poor nose with my pocket-handkerchief. I hadn't any eau de Cologne, and if I had, it might not have done him much good. At last he got better, and I got on again (all my life I've been used to mounting and dismounting without assistance). Thinking downhill must be the way home, downhill I turned him, and proceeded slowly on, now running over in my own mind the glorious hour I had just spent, now wondering whether I should be lost and have to sleep amongst the Downs, and

anon

coming back to the old subject, and resolving that hunting was the only thing to live for, and that for the future I would devote my whole time and energies to that pursuit. At last I got into a steep chalky lane, and at a turn a little further on espied, to my great relief, a redcoated back jogging leisurely home. White-Stockings pricked his ears and mended his pace, so I soon overtook the returning sportsman, who proved to be no other than Squire Haycock, thrown out like the rest of the Heavy-top gentlemen, and only too happy to take care of me,

and show me the shortest way (eleven miles as the crow flies) back to Dangerfield Hall.

We jogged on amicably enough, the Squire complimenting me much on my prowess, and not half so shy as usual,-very often the case with a diffident man when on horseback. We were forced to go very slow, both our horses being pretty well tired; and to make matters better, we were caught in a tremendous hail-storm, about two miles from home, just as it was getting dark, and close to the spot where our respective roads diverged. I could not possibly miss mine, as it was perfectly straight. Ah! that hailstorm has a deal to answer for. We were forced to turn through a handgate, and take shelter in a friendly wood. What a ridiculous position, pitch dark, pelting with rain, an elderly gentleman and a young lady on horseback under a fir-tree. The Squire had been getting more incoherent for some time, I couldn't think what he was driving at.

'You like our country, Miss Coventry, fine climate, excellent soil, nice and dry for ladies ?'

I willingly subscribed to all these advantages.

'Good neighbourhood,' added the Squire, 'capital hunting, charming rides, wonderful scenery for sketching; do you think you could live in this part of the world?'

I thought I could, if I was to try.

You expressed your approbation of my house, Miss Coventry,' the Squire proceeded, with his hand on my horse's neck, do you think-I mean-should you consider-or rather I should say, is there any alteration you would suggest-anything in my power,-if you would condescend to ride over any afternoon, may I consider you will so far favour me ?'

I said 'I should be delighted, but that it had left off raining, and it was time for us to get home."

'One word, Miss Coventry,' pleaded the Squire, with a shaking voice, have I your permission to call upon Lady Horsingham tomorrow ?'

I said I thought my aunt would be at home, and expressed my conviction that she would be delighted to see him, and I wished him good-bye.

IN reviewing any work we consider that, generally speaking, the matter contained in its pages is the legitimate subject for our observations, and that the style in which it is written is but of secondary consideration, unless it offend against good grammar or good manners; while the name is scarcely ever deemed worthy of comment. There are, however, occasions upon which the name deserves especial notice, and such we conceive to be the case in the present instance, for it is calculated to mislead the public to a considerable extent. Suppose for a moment that an author were to produce a work, in two volumes, entitled, in large capitals, 'THE HERO OF THE REDAN,' and in smaller text, with other Fragments and Gleanings on the Continent,' what would the reader say, if, upon turning over the pages, he found four-fifths of the book occupied in discussing the galleries of Europe, or the sites and scenes of remarkable events of antiquity, and the remaining fifth the only portion dedicated to the hero and his gallant efforts? surely the public might be tempted to say 'this is a shameful imposition upon us: the author knows that every heart throbs in a unison of national pride and interest towards the hero; and taking advantage of that fact, he foists upon us 600 pages of continental tour; and, employing 150 pages upon the Redan, he uses the soulstirring title of The Hero of the Redan as a stalking horse wherewith to delude the unwary and to

ensure a ready sale.' We trust that the gallant Captain's cloth and character will be received as a sufficient guarantee that he had no such base intentions upon the public; but as he has been guilty of a very similar offence, we should abdicate one of our most important duties as reviewers, and betray the trust which the public repose in us, if we passed it over without comment and condemnation. In a country so eminent for commercial enterprise as Great Britain, and at a time when science is so especially occupied with improving the means of communication between distant countries, who can doubt that a work from the pen of a distinguished and scientific officer, an F.R. S. and an F.R.G.S., entitled The Dead Sea, a New Route to India, &c., would attract no small attention? An officer of the gallant Captain's reputation devoting two large volumes to such a subject, was of itself primâ facie evidence that the passage was feasible, and that the question was handled in all its possible bearings, with the utmost minuteness of detail as to engineering difficulties, native hostility, and commercial advantage. We are free to confess that we pounced upon the two volumes full of those high and legitimate expectations to which the name naturally gives rise; and having gone through both volumes and appendices, when we laid them down, the conviction forced itself on our mind that we had been (in familiar phraseology) regularly done. The information regarding the Dead Sea as a route

with Fragments and Gleanings of London: Longman and Co.

to India might easily have been printed in a pamphlet form at the price of a few shillings; and if the furtherance of such a scheme was the main purpose proposed by the author, we feel satisfied such an object would have been better effected by the publication of a cheap pamphlet, than by the two misnamed volumes before us. But while thus unequivocally condemning the name it has pleased the writer to give his book, we must not be considered as condemning the book itself.

Its legitimate title is, Fragments and Gleanings in the East, with Suggestions for a New Route to India

via the Dead Sea-the Dead Sea question being merely subsidiaryand, as a book of fragments, it has much to recommend it. The style is clear and gentlemanly, and more free from heaviness than most books of its class, when written by scientific men, usually are: the little efforts of facetiousness which the Captain indulges in from time to time, if not facetious, present at all events a marked contrast to the sober text which surrounds them. Both volumes are enlivened by well executed sketches from the author's pencil. The gallant Captain having obtained a passage for himself and nephew on board H. M. S. Ganges, in November, 1849, proceeds to Malta, from which island he takes his departure on Christmas-day, and commences what may be termed a cruise in the Archipelago, enjoying, during part of the time the advantages of the late Lord Nugent's society. He bears his testimony to the wretched state of Smyrna as regards all law and authority.

Few towns are cursed with so many bad characters as Smyrna. They are principally Greeks and Ionians, who perform the most atrocious acts with impunity; as, even if committed in the open day, people are so afraid of them, that they will not give evidence; or the miscreants purchase the protection of a foreign flag, principally Greek and Russian, and the consuls rescue them from the hands of justice. Thus recognised murderers walk about the

streets without the fear of the law, and make the outskirts dangerous. Two instances occurred during my stay. In the first, a child was carried to the mountains, and a large ransom demanded from the father, who could only collect half, which was refused. The unhappy parent then applied to the government, and a party of soldiers was sent in pursuit; but they were so slow, and took their measures so badly, that the rascals had time to escape, leaving, however, the poor boy, with his throat cut, lying across the path his father would have to traverse. The other was on a grander and bolder scale. A band of robbers

having ascertained that the Austrian consul had a large sum of money in his house, induced a servant, by threats or bribes, to let them in on a preconcerted signal. The young man being seized with remorse, acquainted his master with the plot, who told him to keep his engagement, but enjoined secrecy. In the mean time he introduced some resolute cawasses, or policemen, into his house. The fellows succeeded in scaling the walls, and when the door was opened, as they thought to admit them, the cawasses fired. Two made their escape, and cut off the retreat of their four companions by drawing the ladder after them. The others defended themselves desperately, especially one, who, being a French fencing-master, made good use of his sword. They were, however, all killed, and the cawasses escaped with only slight wounds.*

The author next proceeds to Makri, in Asia Minor, purposing to take a cruise into the interior. The Aga is consulted upon the important point of danger. He replies, with Oriental finesse, that the roads were dangerous, but that the good rule of the Padishah had rendered them safe; taking good care, however, to add, that the Aga of the next village would furnish him with an escort, who would in turn hand him over to the escort of the next, and so on. In short, it became obvious that there was great risk in attempting to penetrate into the interior, and the Captain was reluctantly obliged to forego his intended trip. Ere many days there was convincing proof of the danger, by the fact of two of the banditti coming into the town to levy a black mail of 12,000 piastres