restrain,--and silence is essential to
success in the pursuit,--at last fired into a dense herd of deer.

Mr Scrope adds,[257] "Everything was propitious--circumstance,
situation, and effect; for he was descending the mountain in full view
of our whole assemblage of sportsmen. A fine stag in the midst of the
herd fell to the crack of his rifle. 'Hallo, hallo!' forward ran the
count, and sat upon the prostrate deer triumphing. '_He bien, mon ami,
vous etes mort, donc! Moi, je fais toujours des coups surs. Ah! pauvre
enfant!_' He then patted the sides of the animal in pure wantonness, and
looked east, west, north, and south, for applause, the happiest of the
happy; finally he extracted a mosaic snuff-box from his pocket, and with
an air which nature has denied to all save the French nation, he held a
pinch to the deer's nose--'_Prends, mon ami, prends donc!_' This
operation had scarcely been performed when the hart, who had only been
stunned, or perhaps shot through the loins, sprang up suddenly,
overturned the count, ran fairly away, and was never seen again.
'_Arretes, toi traitre! Arretes, mon enfant! Ah! c'est un enfant, perdu!
Allez donc a tous les diables!_'"

VENISON FAT.--REYNOLDS AND THE GOURMAND.

Northcote[258] says--"I have heard Sir Joshua Reynolds relate an
anecdote of a venison feast, at which were assembled many who much
enjoyed the repast.

"On this occasion, Reynolds addressed his conversation to one of the
company who sat next to him, but to his great surprise could not get a
single word in answer, until at length his silent neighbour, turning to
him, said, 'Mr Reynolds, whenever you are at a venison feast, I advise
you not to speak during dinner-time, as in endeavouring to answer your
questions, I have just swallowed a fine piece of the fat, entire,
without tasting its flavour.'"

STAG-TRENCH AT FRANKFORT-ON-THE-MAINE.

Goethe was born at Frankfort-on-the-Maine, August 28th, 1749. In his
autobiography[259] he says--"The street in which our house was situated
passed by the name of the Stag-trench; but as neither stags nor trenches
were to be seen, we naturally wished to have the expression explained.
They told us that our house stood on a spot that was once outside the
town, and that where the street now ran had formerly been a trench in
which a number of stags were kept. The stags were preserved and fatted
here, because the Senate every year, according to an ancient custom,
feasted publicly