But, though a kind girl is my greatest delight,

I had no inclination to lie with a sprite ;

So I mov'd farther off, till I lay on the post→→→→

And left my warm bed to this comical ghost.

While I cover'd, in a tremour, the bed-clothes beneath,

I fancied I heard my strange bed-fellow breathe!

I listen'd-the breathing I heard as before

And louder it grew-till 'twas almost a snore!

Thinks I,-for a phantom, 'tis funny enough

It sure must be made of corporeal stuff;

So I softly extended my hand to the form,

And, touching it, found it substantial and warm!

And, by her respiring so loudly and deep,

I judged 'twas some lady who walk'd in her sleep. Thought I, to so lovely a ghost I could cling

When I felt on her delicate finger a ring;

I raised her soft hand, and removed it with care, For, says I to myself, this will tell

who you are.

That instant my bed-fellow threw off the clothes,

And, though fast asleep, started up on her toes:

Then, backwards and forwards, she glided about,

And, as she came in, she, at last, glided out!

I laugh'd at the spectre that made all this riot,

And, after a yawn or two, rested in quiet.

This curious event so disturbed my repose,

'Twas late in the morning before I.

arose

When I enter'd the breakfast-room, smiling and hearty, Assembled I found the whole family party;

Their enquiries at once were directed

to me,

With-" how did you rest, Sir?"and-" what did you see?" Said I-" ere I speak of this wonderful thing,

"I must learn who it is owns this emerald ring."

None claimed the bright bawbletill Emily said,

"Good Heav'n! 'tis my ring!-and where was it mislaid?" "Mislaid"—said I, laughing,where Miss lay herself'; "For you are the ghost, my fair cousin, yourself.”

And, strange as it seems, know, good people," I said, "Last night cousin Emily slept in my bed."

"You're joking,"-cried one "tis too bad,"-cried anotherWhile Emily tried her confusion to smother.

""Tis true," I exclaim'd-" and the truth must prevail"—

Then frankly related my whimsical tale.

All laugh'd, and declared I the secret must keep,

When a lady commits a faux-pas in her sleep;

While I thought all their mirth a confounded intrusion, For I saw lovely Einily sink in confusion.

At length, our good uncle observed, with a smile,

"Faux-pas in the sleep are faux-pas without guile;

"And, since she has taken the place of a wife,

Her eyes with grieving dim was: "Ah, yes!"—and pitifully sigh'd;

For none more lov'd than him was. Her lips had kiss'd him night and day, Her bosom warm his bed was; And when he'd piped his dulcet lay, All by her hand he fed was. His breast display'da crimson bright; His head a glossy black was; Beneath his wings a feather'd white; And olive-grey his back was. "And art thou dead?"-my Lady cried,

And sore inclin'd to weep was; When joyous smiles her sorrows dried, For Bully but-asleep was !* W. U

N.

PIGEON SHOOTERS' GLEE, Sung at the Old Hats' Club, Ealing.

TH

HERE'S no rural sport surpasses, Pigeon shooting, circling glasses; Fill the crystal goblet up, Fill the crystal goblet up. No Game Laws can ever thwart us, Nor qui tams nor Habeas Corpus, For our licence Venus grants. Let's be grateful for her bounty. Listed under beauty's banners, What's to us freehold or manors ! Fill the crystal goblet up, Fill the crystal goblet up. No suspense our tempers trying, Endless sport our trap supplying; No ill state 'twixt hope and fear, At magic word our birds appear. Fill the crystal goblet up.

Alike all seasons in our favour,
O'er vales and hills, no toil or labour,
No alloy our pleasures yield.
No game-keeper e'er employing,
Skilled in art of game destroying.
Free from trouble, void of care,
We set at nought the poacher's snare.
Fill the crystal goblet up.
No blank days can ever vex us,
No false points can e'er perplex us;
Pigeons swift as wind abounding,
Fill the crystal goblet up.
Detonating guns resounding,

See the tow ring victims fall.

With Apollo science vying,
View the heaps of dead and dying,
Fore'd to pay the debt of nature,
Matters it or soon or later.
Fill the crystal goblet up.

topic in the fashionable circles.

VOL. III. N. S.

No. XVII.

.....202

......203 .......... 204

Deer-Stealers Extraordinary
Improvement in Guns.. ................ 204
Derbyshire Coursing Society's Meeting.....205
The Followers of the King's Hounds..........206
Bettings at Tattersall's, on the Derby, &c. ..207
Manton's Detonating Gun

......

On the Accident to Spartan---with Engraving 224 Ashdown Coursing Meeting

Sporting Law Cases

Boxing

Travels in America

.... ...

......... 225

....... 208

... 209 •...210

.....212

...

... ...

A New Road to Salvation, and how they obviate the Inconvenience of Longevity abroad. On the Speed of Blacklock .....................................215

....214

Errors in Sporting Works ......216 An Awkward Amateur ................ ..... .....217

......... 244

......................251

... . .. .. . .252

THUNDERBOLT.

Engraved by SCOTT, from a painting by CLIFTON TOMSON, of Nottingham. THE black horse, Thunderbolt, full Brother to Smolensko, and bred by Sir Charles Bunbury, was foaled in 1806. He was got by Sorcerer, dam, Wowski, by Mentor; grandam, Maria, (dam of Waxy, and Worthy, &c.) by Herod; great grandam, Lisette, by Snap; great great grandam, Miss Windsor, (dam of Grand Diavolo, Signora, Ursula, and Signor, &c.) by the Godolphin Arabian, Sister to Sir M. Wyvill's Volunteer, by Young Belgrade, Bartlett's, Childer's, &c. Thunderbolt is upwards

of sixteen hands high, with great bone and powers, and was one of the speediest and best colts of his day. He broke down from an accident at three years old, after proving a winner several times at Newmarket, previously to which Sir Charles Bunbury might have sold him for two thousand pounds. He has since proved himself a most capital stallion, as his numerous list of winners in the Racing Calendars and Sporting Magazine fully evince. From his blood, which on both sides is the oldest and best, and from his constitution, temper, and performances, there is certainly not a stallion in England of greater promise to get capital racers.