must take care not to quit it without a look and a word for one or two other good things here. Take, for example, Mr. Hemsley's "Rattrap"-quite a little Wilkie in its way, with every boy's expression exactly hitting what he is at and intending. The screwing up of the lad's mouth who is about to give the imprisoned one a little more air, would be "hard to beat" anywhere. As so would Mr. Erle's Mallard on the Wing. A very favourite subject as ever, this mallard; and while Mr. Lance stands first with him in repose, Mr. Erle ranks almost as well for him when more alive. Mr. Harrison Weir has the same bird in much the same attitude at the New Water Colour; but "The Homeward Bound" won't do after the other-a bit of plain truth we have no hesitation in telling Mr. Weir, considering what an equal sense of justice has prompted us already to say of him. A wild duck is not the only thing Mr. Erle succeeds in, for he has some terriers (a white one, above all others) in the Academy, that must give him a long lift up the ladder his pictures show power and taste, and he has no mean skill in the use of colour, of which the pinky skin of the white dog alluded to breaking through the rough wire hair, will stand him in good evidence. Another glance through the collection of catalogues does not furnish much more from old favourites, and of new lights we have still few or Mr. Woodward only sends in two pictures, of which we give the palm to the one in the Academy-the old huntsman, with his horse and hounds, the man especially showing the old age and hard work of a sportsman. His fox-hunting scene in the British Institution is not so successful the figures are too small for the size of the canvass, and the notion of space so intended to be conveyed ends in a map instead of a picture, while "the dogs"-the term is applicable to them-have more the character of the mastiff than the foxhound: we have seen some from the same pencil much larger and much better. Far more prolific this season is Mr. Shayer with his inviting woodland scenes and clever groups of country folk, always making up into pleasing, and we should say selling, pictures. His gipsies, though-and he is fond of introducing them-frequently want more strongly the traits and features of the wandering race; otherwise we have very little to complain of in Mr. Shayer: his cattle and cart-horses are generally excellent, and he has taste for seizing the best bits in that country life he seems so devotedly to study. Another gentleman of much the same mind is Mr. Dearman, and whose efforts are mostly open to the same kind of commendation.

none.

With the workers in oil we have little more to do, a few unfinished things of poor Bateman's being in so very unfinished a state that we only wonder how it was ever determined to exhibit them at all. They come not within the pale of criticism. Some few good pictures, that might perhaps have been appropriately noticed here, we have no doubt missed, as we are quite sure we have a great many bad ones; as every artist, however, will know well enough how to take this, we will say no more beyond a word in justice for the fish painter, Mr. Rolfe. His is rather a peculiar line, and he has managed to make it all his The pike, perch, and trout are very admirable, and if he only knew how to display them properly, they would attract more general attention than we think their merit brings them now. As it is, they are invariably surrounded with the bright green meadow-grass, a most difficult tint to contend with, as all artists admit, and which here goes far

own.

to destroy all the nice variety of colour in the fish themselves. Suppose, by way of change, Mr. Rolfe would arrange them now and then on a bit of basketing, a la Lance, or in the pantry on a delf plate, or with a piece of bright brown earthenware to bring them out. We only offer the hint, which we think, nevertheless, might help to bring him out too. Our friend from the country is really getting so tired, and we have already said so much, that a word in passing for two of the most pleasant of all the exhibitions must be briefer than we could wish. We refer to the two water-colour societies, both, as of late, again abounding in taste and talent. In the new, as we have mentioned, Mr. Weir this season takes the lead, being ably supported by Mr. Laporte, who can paint a horse-a dandy hack, by the way-capitally. As partnership in painting now seems all the fashion, we should have liked to have seen him help out his brother exhibitor here in his portrait of young Hernandez, where the scene in the circle is all well enough with the exception of the horse-Hamlet, with the part of Hamlet spoilt. Mr. Corbould never could, and we fancy never will, paint a horse, though we fear, from the pertinacity with which he perseveres, that he has some idea himself that he can.

At the Old Water Colour, which by seniores priores ought to have first had our attention, but from the time it opens runs only second for it, we have Mr. F. Tayler ranking very high; we are not quite certain but he is the Landseer of the lighter or ladies' school of painting, as "the heavies" call it. His most remarkable performances now under inspection are a beautiful little pair of otter hunting, and hawking in the olden time, with a larger and very effective repose scene, introducing a white pointer and some pheasants and hares-hares that Mr. Herring might look at, as indeed he might at one of Mr. Hunt's in company with a finely coloured wood-pigeon, that only want something more of shade to throw them out, to be very perfect. Just one minute longer for a look at the same artist's curious taste and high excellence in bird-nestingsuch lining and weaving-and another half glance at that magnificent failure the Harem, and, my dearly beloved rus-in-urbe, we are at your

service.

And now, cab, "home ;" and now, waiter, "dinner ;" and let us feast our eyes on nothing more glaring than the cool tints of that brimming hock glass, or the rich brown of this dainty whiting, who seems half inclined to swallow himself. He appreciates his own excellence, no doubt; could we venture to say as much of the R. A.'s?

THE OLDEN TIME.

DESIGNED AND ENGRAVED BY H. BECKWITH.

Our second illustration this month is devoted to a pastime now suffered to remain in our schedule more by courtesy than from any passing claim it has to attention. We give it, however, with little hesitation, not only from the pleasing composition of the sketch, but as just a gentle hint to our modern reformers to ascertain what "the Hereditary Grand" is doing for his money.

We certainly should like to see hawking revived, if it be but for the

sake of the ladies; for it is one of their own out-door amusements, and one, moreover, they have ever been at liberty to follow, without exciting any of that ill-natured criticism that too often attends their more daring feats on horseback. Despite the charms of Di Vernon and Neighbour Constance, and the readiness of many charmers yet to take up such characters, ladies in the hunting field are not very generally welcomed. And there are many reasons, with perhaps some good ones amongst them, for this. A man may break his head or his leg and no harm done, but on you go again as well as you can; with a woman, though, the case is different: if she is not actually, you are perpetually fearing she may be hurt, or, what is quite as probable, may hurt you; for it is astonishing at what awful places some of them will ride. You must follow as a matter of course; while if you do get wrong her ladyship laughs at you quite as assuredly, with all the Field ready to echo her enjoyment. There are few more awkward games to play than not getting pounded by a hard-riding jade, who has set her heart upon so doing: she has you at very long odds, and, let you be ever so fond of either the run or the lady, can seldom be returned as quite comfortable under the circumstances.

Now with the hawks it is another affair. Hunting in the air is not the determined, straight-sailing work old foxy makes it, but offers plenty of time for observation and exclamation, which in good hands may be very effectively made use of. "O, the beautiful bird! look at his dear, dark, piercing eyes!"-as the falcon is unhooded-from one who, you may be tolerably sure, is quite as well furnished herself. Then his flight is another fine theme for admiration; and, to cap it all, comes the pity, "next akin to love," for the poor, harmless, awkward heron "the cruel little savage" has so mercilessly fastened on. All very fine play for the passions, and for hooking the dandy cavalier, who is half-suspected to be on the point of asking himself what his intentions are.

The time chosen in the print is supposed to be taking the case at something about this turn of the tide.

LITERATURE.

PRACTICAL HORSEMANSHIP. By Harry Hieover. London: Printed for Longman and Co., 1850.

The

"When two men ride on one horse," says the old saw, 66 one of them must ride behind." In the year 1839 Colonel Greenwood published a small volume entitled "Hints on Horsemanship." It opens in the style of composition which "Horace calls, the heroic turnpike road.' "The two first paragraphs are as follow:-" When you wish to turn to the right, pull the right rein stronger than the left; this is common sense. common error is precisely the reverse. The common error is, when you wish to turn to the right to pass the hand to the right...It is to correct this common error, this monstrous and perpetual source of bad riding and bad usage to good animals, that these pages are written." In the spring of 1850, Mr. Bindley's "Practical Horsemanship" issued from the press. It commences thus :-" All who have ever ridden will admit