HUNTING ON THE SOUTH DOWNS. 



'^What^s the use of sighing when time is on the 

 wing. Can we prevent its flying ? then merrily let us 

 sing/^ Such was the burthen of my song as I entered 

 the most delightful of all seaside resorts — Brighton — 

 on a bright and beautiful morning at the close of 

 October. True it is that half a century has elapsed 

 since I first visited this City by the Sea ; but what 

 matter ? Is the view less charming^ the sea less spark- 

 ling, the air less bracing, are the women less lovely 

 and fascinating, or the men less jovial and hospitable ? 

 Decidedly not ; and as sighing under these circum- 

 stances would be a folly, I came to the conclusion that, 

 notwithstanding the efflux of time, we may be happy 

 yet, provided we set about it in the right way. 

 Deeply impressed by this conviction, I immediately 

 made tracks for the West Brighton Riding School, 

 where I was told that Mr. Dupont would mount me 

 right well, if I meant to try my luck at hunting on the 

 South Downs. 



Having fortunately taken time by the forelock, I was 

 enabled to make satisfactory arrangements ; for though 

 the stud consists of some seventy animals, yet such is 

 the reputation it has obtained, that, had I not with 

 judicious foresight been early in the field, I should 

 have been forestalled by the distinguished foreigners 

 who, during their residence at Brighton, trust to Mr. 



