re was
all alive, and had it all her own way: with some difficulty I got my nob
out of the beaver-trap, and was in at the death!"

I laughed heartily at his awkward dilemma, and wishing him plenty of
sport, we parted.

Poor Rory! he has suffered many a blow and many a fall in his time; but
he is still indefatigable in the pursuit of his favourite pastime--so
true is it--that

"The pleasure we delight in physic's pain;"

his days pass lightly, and all his years are leap years!

He has lately inherited a considerable property, accumulated by a miserly
uncle, and has most appropriately purchased an estate in one of the
Ridings of Yorkshire!

With all his love for field-sports, however, he is no better "the
better," says he, "is often the worse; and I've no notion of losing my
acres in gambling; besides, my chief aim being to be considered a good
horseman, I should be a consummate fool, if, by my own folly, I lost my
seat!"

A RIGMAROLE--PART III.

"Oderunt hilarem tristes."

The sad only hate a joke. Now, my friend Rory is in no sense a sad
fellow, and he loves a joke exceedingly. His anecdotes of the turf
are all racy; nor do those of the field less deserve the meed of praise!
Lord F____ was a dandy sportsman, and the butt of the regulars. He was
described by Rory as a "walkingstick"--slender, but very "knobby"--with a
pair of mustaches and an eye-glass. Having lost the scent, he rode one
day slick into a gardener's ground, when his prad rammed his hind-legs
into a brace of hand-glasses, and his fore-legs into a tulip-bed. The
horticulturist and the haughty aristocrat--how different were their
feelings--the cucumber coolness of the 'nil admirari' of the one was
ludicrously contrasted with the indignation of the astonished cultivator
of the soil. "Have you seen the hounds this way?" demanded Lord F____,
deliberately viewing him through his glass.

"Hounds!" bitterly repeated the gardener, clenching his fist. "Dogs, I
mean," continued Lord F____; "you know what a pack of hounds are--don't
you?"

"I know what a puppy is," retorted the man; "and if so be you don't
budge, I'll spile your sport. But, first and foremost, you must lug out
for the damage you have done--you're a trespasser."

"I'm a sportsman, fellow--what d'ye mean?"

"Then sport the blunt," replied the gardener; and, closing his gates,
took Lord F____ prisoner: nor did he set him free till he had reimbursed
him for the mischief