this was found to answer; but Government very soon found out that, to cheat the tonnage dues, vessels were built narrow, deep, and at the same time as flat as before, whereby great wall-sided, kettle-bottomed things were produced, infinitely worse than the beamy shallow vessels by which they were preceded." "HINT" IN REFERENCE TO THE VEXED QUESTION OF MEASUREMENT. "As uniformity is most desirable in this, as well as in many other points, would it not be possible for the leading clubs to take the matter up, and revise our yachting code? A congress! might be held in London for that purpose. An uniform classification should also be obtained, and then we could have a Grand National Regatta' on a large scale. Too much encouragement has been given, hitherto, to over-sparred, deep-drawing yachts, and too little to good models only. This vice of our rigging might be corrected by specifying the number of square yards?-each class might carry, permitting the owner of each craft to set that convas?...to the best advantage? All pulling down of bulk-heads, and all shifting of ballast, to be strictly forbidden........ If to these pleasant projections and social passages of aquatic convention and conviviality be added that the mise en scène of the metropolitan holiday marine is the Great Sewer and Cesspool of London and Westminster, some idea may be formed in relation to the British Capital as to "WHAT YACHTING IS." "I think the Yachting Spirit is not quite so strong in many of our ports as it used to be." THE ISLE OF WIGHT. Cowes Saturday, April the Fifteenth. YACHT INTELLIGENCE. "The R. Y. S. schooner Titaniu, R. Stephenson, Esq., arrived in Cowes Roadstead, on Sunday evening, from the Mediterranean. "The Druid returned on Monday from her cruize in the Mediterranean, and proceeded to the eastward." On the lovely day that I cruized the familiar round of Cowes river and roads, The Titania was moored off the mouth of the Medina; but soon after, she ascended the stream to the berth of yachts "in ordinary." Higher up than where The Titania was at first lying, and within a cable's length of the Queen's landing pier, was Sir Hyde Parker's fine schooner, The May Fly, recently purchased by Mr. Bedder. On Joseph White's slip reclined Lord Wilton's second edition of The Xarifa, to be lengthened-a process which The May Fly has happily accomplished. That the Commodore's flag-ship will hoist the burgee of the R. Y. S. this season-as perspicuous logicians say-" remains to be seen." The next floating feature was the clipper cutter, The Julia, built by Ratsey to beat The America, which she did. Here ends my catalogue of the Wight's flying squadron. I would the moral finished with the material at issue; but faith would fail me did I not instance the events, already come, which have cast their shadows on once-brilliant prospects. "For one yacht now to be found in these waters," said an old Cowes skipper, "five years ago there were twenty."...According to the promises of one of the most popular of the island's house-agents, the visits of its aristocratic company have fallen off at the rate of compound interest. "Business," cries the vox populi, "is at a dead lock;" and, if you are to believe what you hear, there will be no regatta here this season."......" Sic transit gloria"-maris!...on the shores of silver Solent. Let us analyze its economy on the banks of turbid Thames; beginning, as by right of precedence, with THE PRINCE OF WALES'S YACHT CLUB. "The usual monthly meeting of this flourishing club was held at the Freemasons' Tavern, Lincoln's Inn Fields," (?) "Commodore Berncastle in the chair, presiding, and was attended by about one hundred members. The twelve gentlemen on the list for ballot having been duly elected, the laws as revised by the Committee were submitted to the Club for their approval, and unanimously adopted. "A vote of thanks was passed by acclamation to Messrs. Robinson, Greaves, Abbot, and Lilley, for the prizes presented by each of these gentlemen to the Club at the Match Meeting. The two first are to be sailed for next year by yachts of fifteen tons and under. Mr. Abbott's GOLD Cup and Mr. Lilley's Cup were produced; and the GOLD Cup-manufactured by Young, of Princes-street, Leicestersquare, is quite remarkable for its elegance and chasteness of design. ́ The Club may well be proud of such men." Seeing the uncertainty of a marine gala at Cowes, the subjoined resolution of The Royal Western Yacht Club came, as it were, from "One whose eyes, Albeit unused to the melting mood, Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees Their medicinal gum." "In consequence of the uncertainty of the supply of seamen that will be required for the service of the fleet"-(the race is not always to the fleet !)—" the question of appointing a day for the Regatta of the present year is adjourned to Tuesday, the 6th of June." In the reference to "The Prince of Wales's Yacht Club," it was inadvertently omitted to state that, "at the conversazione on the 21st inst." (now ult.), "Mr. Ditchburn will lecture on the prevention of shipwreck."......"Gang doon the burn, Davie !"......Burn is Scottice, ditch, rendered poetically....It is pleasant, in times of liberal policy, to read such announcements as these; the original emanated from The Royal Southern Yacht Club: "A report having got abroad that the officers of the Royal Mail Steam Packet Companies would not be allowed to become members, we have only to state, as the best contradiction to it, that several officers are already members of the club."......This announcement, however, like everything else of mortal management, while it offers courtesy in one direction implies contumely in another. Are not "browns" "browns"? and is not "tin❞ legal tender, come from where it may? Then why or wherefore limit the entrée of The Royal Southern Yacht Club to the officers of the Royal Steam Packet Companies? To give so gracious a boon the true philosophic flavour, let the saloons of the club be thrown open to the Royal Steam Packets Companies' ship-companies. What is to hinder an able seaman from becoming an admiral? Did Nelson come upon the earth with a coronet on his head? Why does The Royal Thames Yacht Club occupy its business in the great waters, with yards and measures, as if its officers were tailors? Why does The Prince of Wales's Yacht Club paragraph its "GOLD Cup"? -a jewel such as not one man in a million ever set eyes on. Why does The Royal Western Yacht Club trouble itself about the service of the fleet? Does The Royal Yacht Squadron, or The Royal Victoria Yacht Club-with the Sovereign for its patroness-keep a hand to blow its trumpet ?...... Cease rude Bore Us-blust'ring railer! List not landsmen chaunts like his : Sing to you "WHAT YACHTING IS!" A SONG FOR THE SEA, For the life so free The merry mariner leads: For the bark's white wings, and the gale that sings, O! the joy to feel the gallant keel Through the bright wave cleave its way— To sail in pride on the waters wide, And bound o'er the surges gay! Morn comes o'er the waves, from the coral caves, And glittering bright, in the golden light, Are the ripples that dance to the breeze; When the waters glow, and the glad winds blow, And the good boat gathers way Hurrah! to ride on the sparkling tide, And bound o'er the surges gay! Bends the mast like a reed, as she breasts, in her speed, The foam she dashes aside Like a bird, or a steed from rider freed, Exulting in grace and pride, When the thunder is out, and the fierce storms shout, And the wild sheet-lightnings play For a bark that can ride on the roaring tide, And bound o'er the surges gay! A SONG FOR THE SEA! the wild, the free, And the merry mariner's life In storm or shine, there's bliss on the brine, And ocean with joy is rife. Let the hushed wind sleep: o'er the startled deep Let the voice of the tempest cry O! still be our home on the billows foam, Its chorus our minstrelsy! 362 A WEEK AT DULVERTO N.* BY LINTON. Early in the present year the inhabitants of the sporting little town of Dulverton-the "Melton of the West"-were made unusually happy by the arrival of the South Devon Hounds, in addition to their wellbeloved Tiverton pack; while the North Devon (Mr. Russell's) Hounds were announced to meet twice during a week of unusual sport and enjoyment. The ball was opened on Monday, the 6th of February, by Old Beal. Monday, Feb. 6th.-Old Beal, with his gallant pack, the Tiverton hounds (Mr. Carew's), met at Gibbet Moor, found at Cruwys Morchard; ran the coverts until dark, with a bad fox and worse scent. Tuesday, the 7th.—Mr. Whidborne's (the South Devon), at Coombe : the night and morning very boisterous, nevertheless the field was large. After partaking of the liberal hospitality always afforded by the worthy resident at Coombe-Mr. Locke-the hounds were thrown into Burridge Wood, which, together with the beautiful coverts in the valley of the Barle, from some unexplainable reason proved blank-a sad and vexatious disappointment to many who had come from afar to welcome the South Devon sportsmen, as they to visit the Tiverton Hunt. Wednesday, the 8th.-The North Devon hounds (Mr. Russell's) met at Twitchen village, drew Leworthy Wood blank, thence made the best of their way to West Molland allotment, when five minutes had scarcely elapsed ere, with a shake of his horn, and one of his melodious cheers, Mr. Russell proclaimed the varmint had fled, with every hound on his scent, carrying a capital head over the ling, through the enclosures and the meadows to West Molland, racing pace, almost in view; from thence he made direct for North Molton, which coverts he was destined never more to enter, for ere he reached them the whole pack were at his brush, and he died, after a splendid burst of thirty-five minutes, fast throughout. Thursday, the 9th.-The Tiverton pack met at Kingsbrompton, about the best meet in their county, and generally a sure find. Every hound is in the gorse; "Elew-elew-elew!" echoes the well-known voice of John Beal. The gorse seems alive as the old man cheers his gallant pack. The fox breaks in view of the whole field, and a splendid burst of half-an-hour to Heartcleeve is the result: here he took refuge in the large and almost impracticable coverts which overhang the river; and although he broke again, the scent became cold, ending with an earth, or, I should rather say, a refuge in the cliff, after a good hour's run, one half of which was brilliant. Friday, the 10th.-The South Devon (Mr. Whidborne's) met at Withypool. The morning broke bright, beautiful, and frosty-far too bright, far too beautiful, and, above all, far too frosty, as was generally believed, for sport; and as we jogged over the glorious brown moors, from which ever and anon the black-cock and heath-poult rose on the *This article was preceded by a detailed account of the South Devon Hounds and their country: space, however, did not allow its insertion this month. wing, great coats were in request. Nevertheless, on arriving at the appointment-Withypool-a small village on the borders of Exmoor, a gallant band of three score well-mounted sportsmen were there assembled, ready to do or die. Frank, cordial, and kind were the greetings which passed from lip to lip and hand to hand, such as are ever met with in North Devon; and but one cloud marred the universal hilarity, viz., unanimous regret that the true-hearted and justly popular master of the Tiverton hounds, Thomas Carew, Esq., of Collipriest, should be absent; who, confined to a bed of sickness and suffering, with utter disregard of self, had not forgotten, in his arrangements for the week's hunting in his own exclusive country, to provide for the sport of the masters of other packs. Cordial greetings over, thanks to the brightest of suns, the earth, hitherto as hard as marble, became paste, and soon after mid-day, mud; when, headed by their amiable master, Mr. Whidborne (who evinced the greatest desire to show sport), and followed by his huntsman, Churchwood, the hounds were thrown into a small gorse covert, which proved blank. Thence we trotted on to Hasgrove, into which the pack were scarcely cheered ere the varmint broke, and away like the flight of an arrow. Now to those who are well acquainted with the country, I need merely mention such points in this truly splendid run as will enable them to follow in imagination throughout the chase; to those who are not, the Ordnance map is the only chance of taking part in the run. From Hasgrove we raced to Newland Brake, thence over Withypool Common to Westwater, crossing the river Barle to Bradley-forward, forward, far and away to Winsford Hill, on to Comer's Gate, over Exford Common-still best pace towards Honeymead, leaving Simonsbath, not far distant, on the right. At this point the gallant foxhounds were joined by a pack of harriers, hunted on the moor by the Messrs. Smith. I feel, however, that I cannot do a greater kindness to sportsmen in general, more particularly so to the sportsmen of the West, than to insert from this point a most graphic letter, written by Mr. Smith himself, a well-known sportsman and North Devon agriculturist, who kindly gave me intelligence which, as a stranger in the field— although, thanks to kind friends, well mounted on the occasion, and therefore one who saw as much of the chase as I believe was seen by any one-it would have been utterly impossible that I could give. He thus writes: "At the moment I saw you coming over the picked stones' from the Exford common towards Honeymead farm, I was looking for a hare with my harriers, and had just left the Copper Mine Hillside, where there is no doubt we were seen by Reynard on his way for the Simonsbath coverts, which caused him to head short back down the Winstitchen Hillside, across the Barle, up the Great Woolcombe Hill, leaving Flexborough to the right, and Cow Castle on the left. At this point the fox was tallied by Mr. Russell; but owing to the high wall below, the deep ravine, the river Barle to cross, and a stupendous hill between them and the hounds, the field were brought to a dead stand, gazing on them, and evidently at a loss how to cross, when the master of the North Devon (Mr. Russell), with his usual cheer, exclaimed, Now, gentlemen, get to them if you can!' What think you of a moor run? At this moment the tail hounds were disappearing from our sight over the hill, without a single horseman. |