intersected by ditches, and in fens and marshes, where gullies and similar intersections have to be jumped. Of late years the loose trowser has become of universal adoption; and a blessed relief it is. In the early part of the season, dark, unbleached, Russia-duck, or coloured jean, will be found the best casing for the extremities; and in winter the good old fashioned corduroy. On the cut of a shooting jacket the comfort of the shooter materially depends, and we may go the length of adding, his success in the field as well. This is, probably, a subject that has not received the attention it deserves. Every sportsman knows what we mean, but it is not every one who carries a gun (whatever his individual opinion may be,) that is entitled to this honourable appellation. To those, therefore, who are serving their apprenticeship to the gentlemanlike, yet laborious and difficult trade of shooting, who have not got beyond the "pons asinorum in their acquirements and studies, and who wish to become "first-class men" in their vocation, we will take the liberty of offering a few hints. We all know, or ought to know, that the sixteenth part of an inch, the width of the edge of a shilling, in fact, in the length of a stock will cause a variation in one's shooting, that is, the shooter will find out the difference when firing at any given object, for a "miss," when least expected, will be the result. Any one accustomed to a particular length of stock must have found this out, if by chance he has shot with a strange gun. No matter how or where the additional length is given, so long as the "reach " from the shoulder to the trigger is increased, the evil will be found to exist. Now for an example.

Supposing your tailor-(and ninety-nine of these ninth parts of men out of a hundred know no more how to make a sportsman's habili ments properly than an Esquimaux would a steam engine)-send you home a slangish, gaudy-looking shooting-jacket, double-breasted, padded, and buckramed, you would find on putting your gun to the shoulder a sensible increase in length, amounting to an inconvenience-so much so indeed as to make it a certainty that a very good shot would miss four out of every five birds he might fire at. The cut and make of a shooting jacket form a most important feature in the wide field of a Schneider's acquirements. Amongst the accomplished artists in this focus of fashion and taste, London-but few, very few, know how to make a shooting jacket; although it is one of the most difficult and, we might add scientific, branches of their useful calling.

A shooting jacket, "suivant nous," should sit easily yet closely; the arms must have full play; the collar ought to be thin, low, and narrow; and above all it should lay flat, and as far from the tip of the shoulder as possible. All padding, wadding, and buckram should be studiously avoided, for the reasons we have stated. None but the thinnest possible lining is admissible; and the material of which the jacket and waistcoat are composed should be previously soaked in water, that no shrinking can take place. Nothing approaching to a lapel or a double-breast can be permitted in either jacket or waistcoat, both of which should be of a dark and subdued colour; a tinge of green for fishing, and the shade of the heather intermixed for the moors.

In former days our builders of shooting jackets used to perch the buttons of the waist underneath our shoulder blades, and by way of superadding to our misery, placed the various side-pockets under our very arm-pits—an inconvenience that makes us shudder to this very hour.

Not a pocket should be above the elbow: we can then help ourselves to all the etceteras the sportsman requires in the field, without the probability of dislocating the shoulder, or converting our anatomy into the ungraceful shape of the letter "K" or a crooked "P."

As our success in the field, the consequence of good and steady shooting, depends upon the ease and comfort of our dress, we have been induced to dwell somewhat at length on the subject of the shooting jacket. An ill-fitting shoe or boot, tight gaiters or shorts, or a jacket that confines the arms and prevents the free use of the limbs, will mar a day's sport and destroy all enjoyment. The hints we have taken the liberty of throwing out may be the means of affording additional comfort to some of our younger brother sportsmen.

Although we have condemned the breeches and gaiter system, we are no enemy to the "high-low." A laced boot, if well made, is a good support when the ground happens to be heavy and rugged. A high shoe and leather gaiter reaching only about the ankle, are preferred by some old stagers; but the stubble will force itself up the gaiter occasionally, however broad the under-strap, and cause much annoyance; and in wet weather the laced boots have decidedly the advantage.

Some of our friends shoot in stout, easy-fitting Wellingtons, while others uphold the use of button-boots, either of leather or cloth. “Quant à nous," we invariably wear the high-low or laced boot.

Return we now to the grouse. If, as Colonel Hawker has so judiciously recommended, the partridge shooting should be postponed until the 1st of October, we would with submission suggest that the grouse shooting should also be deferred until the 1st of September. We will state the grounds upon which we advocate the plan. In the month of August-at least the early part of it-the young birds, in hot weather, lay like so many stones; the old ones rise first, and the hen bird is, nine times out of ten, knocked over; the mischief then done is incalculable; for where the breeding hens are thus wantonly destroyed, the race must in the course of time be ultimately exterminated; when, by the exercise of a fortnight's patience, the evil would be remedied. There is another grievance which we will point out as one which calls loudly for reform, and that is, the manner in which the grouse shooter but too frequently forwards the birds he has shot to his friends. No care whatever is taken in packing them up, and scarcely any in the shooting of them. The greater number of the grouse which drop to the gun in August are the young ones, and they are killed at such very short distances, in consequence of the over-anxiety of the shooter, that they are blown to ribbons; in this state they are crammed into a close pocket or game-bag, and when taken out are usually a mass of putridity. This will account for the many living cargoes imported into this country from the moors. We do not go the length of saying that this is universally the case, for a good sportsman will allow his bird, young or old, to attain a certain distance before he fires; but the novice is too eager to behave with the requisite coolness. We remember a striking instance of this in the person of a particular friend of ours, an excellent shot, but who banged away right and left as soon as the birds rose.

We were down together on a very good range of hills; he bagged seventy brace of grouse on several occasions, but we could almost take an affidavit that he seldom brought home on any one day more than half a dozen birds which were presentable; some of the birds were literally blown to atoms, and fit for nothing but "salmis" or pies; for

roasting them was out of the question, as they would scarcely hang together. Instead of jamining the mutilated birds into the game bag "en masse," we would recommend their being attached separately by the heels to the waist-belt of the followers and attendants; by adopting this simple plan the birds will be kept sweet.

Where the grouse are found in the hollows and the soil is boggy, the birds must inevitably fall into puddles or on swampy ground when shot; under such circumstances they should be wiped thoroughly dry with a towel or handkerchief. Before the sportsman packs up his birds in the boxes which he intends to forward to his friends, he should direct his "major domo," in addition to swaddling them in hops and heather, to dust the birds all over, especially under the wings and where they have been shot, with plenty of coarsely ground black pepper; the fly will not then go near them, and the grouse will be eatable as well as presentable when they reach their destination. Another precaution, (and an excellent preservative it is too,) exercised by some of our friends, is to insert a corn of allspice in each of the eyes, two or three in the beak, and the same number at the vent; these and the sprinkling of pepper will keep the birds sweet for a fortnight, in proof of which, we have only to state that last year, while residing in Devonshire, we received from Inverness-shire and Rossshire, a distance of six hundred miles, several boxes of grouse, and they were as sweet and fresh as if they had only been killed the day before.

As this is the 1st of September, or more correctly speaking, and to the letter, as this little paper will be read on the 1st of September, (for we are writing on the 15th of August,) it behoves us to say a word or two "anent" the forthcoming partridge season. We have the satisfaction of being enabled to assure the readers of Ainsworth's Magazine, many of whom are doubtless devoted to the sports of the field, that no season on record ever held out a fairer prospect of sport than the present. The accounts we have received from our friends in Norfolk, Suffolk, Essex, Kent, Surrey, Sussex, Buckinghamshire and Berkshire, are of the most promising description.

The young birds are unusually forward, the coveys large, and above all there are plenty of them. We can confidently congratulate our brother sportsmen on the certainty of their enjoying some extraordinarily good shooting this season. On the road between Reading and Newbury we saw several large coveys, and for the time of year the "cheepers" were very forward and strong on the wing. We shall be amongst them on the 1st, or soon after; as we have been offered some of the best shooting in England in that quarter, and we hope on the 1st of October to give an account of our bagging. We intend also to speak of two recent inventions, the self-priming and self-capping guns; the former by Mr. Needham of Piccadilly, and the latter by Mr. Hett of Conduit Street; and we shall also say a word or two as to the relative merits of pointers and setters. For the present we must lay an embargo on our pen, as our limited space cries "Hold, enough.' We cannot conclude, however, without wishing most devoutly, and expressing in all sincerity the hope, that our sporting readers may realize the expectations we may have led them to indulge in; and may their hands be steady, their heads cool, and their powder dry; may their barrels shoot straight, and may we live to record their feats in heather and stubble through the columns of this Magazine.

THE MALOCCHIO.

BY CAPTAIN MEDWIN.

In the ancient city of H, in Germany, close to what was of old a monastery of Benedictine Friars, and still devoted to Catholic purposes, at the date of this tale, stood, if such an expression can apply to the decayed and tottering edifice where its scene is laid, the ruins of a convent, which bore the marks of having been struck by lightning. This, and want of funds-the property of the Stift having been confiscated during the French revolution-for repairing its ravages, had reduced the place to a very miserable condition; and in process of time, as had happened to several religious houses of the same character, it was put up to auction, and, strange fate, sold to a Jew. He was the sole bidder. It was indeed a far from desirable residence. It had been marked out by the hand of God himself for destruction-the churchyard in its centre was no very cheerful or agreeable object, if it did not give it the name of being haunted by the unquiet spirits of the sisterhood.

There was, I forgot to mention-though no fact is so important— on the south side, a square tower of colossal size, several stories in height, which, though rent and split by the electric fluid, was still habitable, and that, in the words of the poet,

"By its own weight stood steadfast and immoveable,"

though not "looking tranquillity." The walls were thick and massive; and small windows, not much larger than embrasures, were let into them, reminding me of the Tower of Carathis, in Vatheck, and seeming fitted for such occupations as employed that amiable personage.

It was not here that the Jew took up his abode, but in some chambers looking into the Gotte's Acre, as the Germans call the Place of Skulls. These chambers, which scarcely deserved the name of a house, though it certainly was one, for it had doors and windows, some of which latter admitted but a little light, some of them no light at all, choked up with the accumulated dust of half a century, were connected by strange little dark winding passages. Deep closets (some shut, and some open, and hanging by one hinge), as if constructed for hiding places, either for persons or property, were arched here and there. A little squalid furniture of the most antique form, the refuse of a curiosity shop which its proprietor had once kept, lay scattered about, and corresponded well with the appearance of the man, who seemed to belong to other times, and might have sat for the Wandering Jew, when he descended into the vaults of Mount Carmel-nor could he have been a more misanthropic, dark-featured and dark-souled being. As there is always, or ought to be, a heroine to every story, so belonged to this Jew the heroine of ours. She was about eighteen or nineteen years of age, a relation of the old man's, though apparently too young to be his daughter. She possessed, with oriental beauty, much of that talent and strength of character which often marks that oppressed people, combined with the eastern glow of soul still retained by the descendants of the once God-favoured-now cast-off- Israelites. Unsoured by the slight of the world, with which they have so frequently to contend, Esther smiled with a sense of conscious worth, if not of conscious supe

riority, upon all around her. She knew nobody, because her fatherfor so she called him-was shunned by all, though she clung to him as the only living thing she had on earth to cling to.

The view from this tower was of magical beauty. Here it was that she hailed the first dawning of spring, the first delicate green that sprouted from the willow, the first bursting forth of the purple blossoms of the laburnum. Here she watched the rising and setting of the sun, basked in his mid-day brightness, marked the lengthening shadows of evening, the first and last dropping leaf, the hoar frost that followed the death of nature, the deeper shroud of snow that winter spread over the scene. Year after year she saw these things, and they were the most remarkable and interesting events in her existence. Still she was happy: the consciousness of being, the sun, the air, her bible for she could read-some little song which she had caught from a casual itinerant musician, her knitting-that solace and employment of a German woman-were her recreations; the arrangement of her father's humble board, and the duties this arrangement brought upon her, the business of her life.

Thus passed the days of the fair Esther. Sin and misery marked the features of the father; innocence and peace spoke eloquently in those of his dark-eyed daughter. One December night, as they sat shivering over the embers of the fire, he said to her, "Child, thou art happy because thou hast a peaceful conscience; keep it ever; it is the only valuable possession thou wilt ever have; prize it as the best of jewels; secure it well in thy bosom, nor permit any being of earth or hell (he muttered the word low and tremulously) ever"-to wrench it from thee, he was about to have added, when a single and very loud rap at the door interrupted the conclusion of the sentence.

"Why dost thou shudder, father?" inquired the girl, who, nevertheless, herself started a little at the very unusual circumstance of a visitor.

"Go quickly to the door, child!" anxiously, hurriedly, uttered the old man. "Perhaps fortune has at last favoured us; perhaps a lodger is arrived; 'tis many a year since the placard has hung unnoticed on the gateway, and four empty stories speak the sad truth. Open quickly," he added, seeing that Esther still hesitated.

"But, father!" she rejoined, not willing to advance," the hour is late; thou art an old man. Suppose-suppose it should be a robber-thou hast no arms." Here the knock was repeated, single, but louder and more imperatively even than before.

"Go! at once, child!" he added. "We have nothing to fear, for we have nothing to lose all that is of value is lost to me.'

Esther obeyed: she undrew slowly the bolt, when a third knock, accompanied by a rude push, ensued; and a stranger entered, who, as the Jew had conjectured, was in search of a lodging. He was closely wrapped up in furs, and his hat was slouched over his thickly-bearded face, so that, by the dim light of the lamp, it was impossible to judge much of his features and figure. Of both hereafter. For the present we will accompany him-but not through the apartments of the tower, which, one by one, were proposed for and inspected in vain. Staircase after staircase was mounted; he seemed perfectly acquainted with the localities, and was not satisfied till he came to the very highest story. The windows were partly papered up, and the wind rushed freely in;