during the cold months in these parts. Although we have a full pack of well-trained fox-hounds, "boarding 'round" among the villagers, (few are rich enough to own more than one of the animals,) John's scent is considered quite equal to that of the best of the dogs. Our amusements of this kind are not exactly after the models of an English squire's. We manage to yell "tally-to" sometimes, with an air of verdant enthusiasm, and can very often, about night-fall, after a hard day's chase, say "stole away "-from the bottom of our hearts. But we do not wear scarlet jackets or sporting caps, or carry long whips or even ride full-blooded "hunters." We always give chase on foot, with guns loaded fearfully with duck-shot, the recoil of which we expect to lay us up for a fortnight, if we are so lucky as to get a chance to snap the trigger at Reynard. If we are not so lucky, we prudently draw the charge. However, with all its technical deficiencies, our fox-hunting is most cheery sport on the hale October mornings, without the perils of steeple-chases, or the trouble of laming our country cobs in teaching them to skin their knees against rail-fences. Another amusement, in which we occasionally indulge, is the picnic. And here allow me to say, that few people in the world know how to enjoy a pic-nic. The fuss and flurry of some, the starched propriety of others, not seldom make these out-door soirees any thing but delectable. But with a choice party, in dashing spirits and utterly forgetful of ceremony, dressed in linen and dimity, so as to care neither for the stains of grass nor the casualty of showers. talking loud and laughing louder, a pic-nic is an ambrosial scene. Imagine me, for instance, starting off at nine o'clock on one of the sunniest and breeziest days of July, with a precious cargo of eight fair ladies in my vehicle, and whipping up an indefatigable horse. Imagine that vehicle to be a sort of farm-yard mnibus, with no springs but the axle-trees, no seats but loose unplaned boards hurriedly provided for the nonce, and no cover at all. Imagine the horse to be one of those steeds, which seem to be the peculiar developments of country diet, with their flesh all aggregated just under their centre of gravity, as if it had slipped off from their ribs, haunches and shoulders, to add to the vast convexity below. Now observe the contents of the vehicle; at a bird's eye view a mass of sun-bonnets, sun-shades and muslin. But look under those bonnets, and find there the swimming blue eyes of C. and the firm, hearty smile of her ripe lips. The curls you need not look for; they have straggled far below the cape of her bonnet, and lie in black masses upon her breast and shoulders. You own she is a fair, fair girl; I read that in your eloquent look. Then there is E; did you ever see a mouth more tempting, or that parted more sweetly over a set of white and even teeth; or a round, pleasant face, more strongly indic ative of all the delicate self-possession of a true woman. Her flushing cheek shows how quickly and keenly she enjoys. You see also one, noted for the cheery ring of her laugh, another for her nascent skill in domestic affairs, another for unfailing spirits, another for her quiet way of making and enjoying fun. You note, too-you need not deny it— R's large, dark, amiable eyes, so deeply brown you might call them black, did not so soft and variable a light stream through them. Ah! could you but hear her sing, you surely would love her voice well by day-light, or yet more when harmonized to the silence of the night. C- , too, adds a beautiful alto, but, confound it, she requires teazing for "a long hour by Shrewsbury clock," before she will begin to charm you with it. Now, we are in motion. Selecting carefully the roughest parts of the road, we make our way amid laughter and screams innumerable; for we actually give "an accompaniment on the bones," as the Ethi opians say, to the creaking of the wheels and the clatter of the waggon. E- — and I are engaged in exchanging impertinences, and the rest in canvassing the chances of an overturn or a break-down. There-it is just as I expected-what is a pic-nic without a "scrape" of some kind? The horse has broken the hames, and stands several feet from the whipple-tree, with the major part of the harness occupying the disputed territory between. We sit and broil in the sun, in the midst of a sandy road, until a cavalier rides away on horseback to procure a rope. The harness is soon patched up, and off we go at a gallop, reading a letter on horse-back at our side, which the more sentimental ladies call a love epistle, and the saucier ones, a " dun.” W. Reaching at last the vicinity of the woods, we unship the fair cargo, and, after a reasonably long debate whether the bars of the fences shall be taken down, or whether the ladies shall walk over them upon a rail placed obliquely against the fence, the latter recommendation, being strenuously pressed by the gentlemen, prevails. Soon, the beautiful spot, selected for our afternoon revel, appears before us. On the edge of the wood is a beautiful glade, the approach to which is a steep descent, covered with long grass, and overshaded with oaks. The glade is as smooth at the bottom as a floor, and a chattering brook cleaves it in twain, lined with the tallest trees and the thickest alders. As the gay party rush down to the smooth plain below, C— and myself are so pleased with the sight, that we sink down on the side of the descent and watch them, as with all the hurry and preparation of a gipsy camp, the laughing girls and busy youth spread the cloth and begin to empty the baskets, under which the masculine part of the troop had been perspiring for several minutes. The delightful breeze seemed to touch the very fibres of life pleasantly, and not even the profusion of varieties of cake, or the first apple-pies of the season, or the sandwiches lure me from the spot on which I have spread myself. The sights and sounds around me are too natural and free not to excite natural and free emotions within the breast of so sober an old fellow as your correspondent, and I am afraid I half told C how much I admired her. But grey-headed gallants are never noticed, even if they grow tender and impassioned. But gastronomy has its corresponding emotions in the human breast, and we at last leave sentiment for the senses. I was vainly endeavoring to touch the bottom of a plate, piled up with cold delicacies: for my lady comrades, concluding from the rotundity of my visage, that I was addicted to the habit of eating, amused themselves infinitely by overloading my piece of china. In short, swallow as much as I would, my plate was as unfailing as the widow's cruise, and, when my appetite The flagged from exhaustion, a portentous mass still rose before me. manes of sandwitches and biscuits were lying around me, and the guests were regaling themselves with conversation instead of edibles' while I was hopelessly struggling to do justice,—for I am a Brutus in doing justice to dainty articles of food,-to the substantial part of the picnic, amid broadsides of the most impudent comments and the most officious offers to replenish my stock on hand. What fair game is an old bachelor among a band of light-hearted girls! Afterwards, I resumed my romantic humor, quarreled with Ediscussing human nature as developed in herself; a favor which she had first extended to me. Then, I wandered across the brook with R- —, and took a long, sweet lesson in the study of womankind. What I talked, I remember not, or hardly what I thought. I hope she does not. But I am carrying my epistle too far, friend Dux. I will spend no more time in telling you of the swing, and the dance, and the soft and silvery duett which rose under the piazza of the " Young Bachelors' Hall" of It is enough to know, that the moon had bathed the world for hours in her light before we reached our bed-sides and suggested a hunt for wood-cock on the morrow. Of that anon. P. S. You are professionally an editor, and friendly letters with a business eye at times. print, prithee. no doubt apt to look at But don't put this in |