ergreen walls of holly and
laurel as any Watteau ever painted. The Lincolnshire gentry and
yeomanry, scarlet coated and velvet capped, on their great blood horses
sweeping down one of the grand evergreen avenues of Brocklesby Park, say
toward the Pelham Pillar, is a capital untried subject, in colour,
contrast, and living interest, for an artist who can paint men as well
as horses.

At length when every dodge had been tried, Master Reynard made a bolt in
despair. We raced him down a line of fields of very pretty fencing to a
small lake, where wild ducks squatted up, and there ran into him, after
a fair although not a very fast day's sport: a more honest hunting, yet
courageous dashing pack we never rode to. The scarcity of villages, the
general sparseness of the population, the few roads, and those almost
all turf-bordered, and on a level with the fields, the great size of the
enclosures, the prevalence of light arable land, the nuisance of flocks
of sheep, and yet a good scenting country, are the special features of
the Wolds. When you leave them and descend, there is a country of water,
drains, and deep ditches, that require a real water-jumper. Two points
specially strike a stranger--the complete hereditary air of the pack,
and the attendants, so different from the piebald, new-varnished
appearance of fashionable subscription packs. Smith, the huntsman, is
fourth in descent of a line of Brocklesby huntsmen; Robinson, the head
groom, had just completed his half century of service at Brocklesby; and
Barnetby, who rode Lord Yarborough's second horse, was many years in the
same capacity with the first Earl. But, after all, the Brocklesby
tenants--the Nainbys, the Brookes, the Skipwiths, and other Woldsmen,
names "whom to mention would take up too much room," as the "Eton
Grammar" says--tenants who, from generation to generation, have lived,
and flourished, and hunted under the Pelham family--a spirited,
intelligent, hospitable race of men--these alone are worth travelling
from Land's End to see, to hear, to dine with; to learn from their
sayings and doings what a wise, liberal, resident landlord--a lover of
field sports, a promoter of improved agriculture--can do in the course
of generations toward "breeding" a first-class tenantry, and feeding
thousands of townsfolk from acres that a hundred years ago only fed
rabbits. We should recommend those M.P.'s who think fox-hunting folly,
to leave their books and debates for a d