The Sun.
London, England, 1842-01-01 00:00:00

FRASER'S MAGAZINE.

The advent of the new year gives Oliver Yorke
an opportunity of casting a retrospective glance
on that which has just terminated. Of course,
his remarks assume a strong political hue ; and
vehement abuse of the Whigs, mixed up, by way
of piquant contrast, with complimentary allu-
sions to the Tories, enable him to get through
three or four pages with tolerable animation.
But what does he mean by speaking of Mr.
O'Connell as the " moribund Mayor of Dublin ?"
In an official sense, the great Repealer has only
just entered upon his civic career, and as for
being "moribund" in any other sense, we be-
lieve he has no intention of dying for many years
to come. "My Life and Times" is an autobio-
graphical sketch, from the pen of Mr. Apperley
—the Nimrod of the sporting world. It is agree-
ably and unassumingly written, though we must
enter our protest against the heading, as being
too pompous for the subject-matter. Mr. Ap-
perley, clever as he confessedly is, sometimes
instructive, always entertaining, has not yet ac-
quired sufficient standing as an author, to be
justified in mixing up his personal reminiscences
with the age in which he lives, as if he were one
of the influencing spirits of that age. Having
hinted this objection, we have said all that we
have to say against Nimrod's autobiography.
One of his earliest recollections is of Bishop
Percy—the well-known collector of those fine
old English ballads which have immortalized his
name. Yet late in life, when he had been pro-
moted to the Bench, the Bishop actually pro-
fessed to be ashamed of his " Relics !" He con-
sidered the pursuit of poetry beneath the dignity
of a Prelate—just as if posterity cares two straws
for him in any other capacity than that of a
poet! Congreve, it may be remembered, hade
the same puerile vanity, and preferred being
considered as a gentleman rather than as a dra-
matist. Mr. Apperley furnishes us with some
amusing anecdotical souvenirs of his father, who,
he says, " was called in his time an out-and-out
Church and King man, alias a bigoted Tory."
He was specially fond of Bishops,whom he seemed
to regard as occupying a station midway between
man and Deity, and was never so happy or so
proud as when he could fill his house with lawn-
sleeves and shovel-hats. This is a species of
biped nearly, if not quite, extinct. A few quaint
samples of the breed may now and then be dis-
covered among the Ely fens, dressed out in rusty
black, wearing cauliflower wigs, creaking shoes,
set off with large brass buckles, and coats with
capacious pockets, from which a Number or two
of the Quarterly Review may be seen peeping
out ; but nowhere else, do we believe, are these
bind idolaters of Episcopacy to be met with. As
well may you hunt for the fossil remains of the
Mammoth. We heartily sympathise with the
elder Mr. Apperley's distrust and apprehension
of attornies. Such distrust argues a healthy
moral sense. Who can like a shark, or fall in
love with an aligator ? " A Chapter on the Dogs
of several of my Acquaintances," contain some
characteristic skethes of these faithful animals.
We quote an account of a battle with a spotted
hyaena, the scene of which is laid in South
Africa:—

The previous night some wild animal, conjectured to
have been the spotted hyaena, had killed three calves in
the kraal of Mr. Rennie, about eight miles distant from
the location of Liddesdale. As this was an aggression
that the high-spirited Scotch gentleman could not afford
to have repeated often, he summoned his neighbours, the
M'Leods, to his assistance ; and with rifles, cutlasses,
and pistols, and all the dogs they could muster, they beat
the covers around, killing four hymnas, besides dislodg-
ing several others, who escaped. A variety of game was
destroyed ; consisting of the gemsbok and the hartebeest,
with other specimens of the antelope tribe, forming a fine
day's sport. But the dislodged hyaenas fled down the
banks of the river, and at night ventured on the farm of
Liddesdale, gaunt and hungry.
The first brute that made its way, creeping stealthily
towards the inclosure, came upon the sleeping Hottentot;
and instantly placing its ponderous jaws over the poor
herdsman's throat, snapped his destructive teeth, and
tore out the sufferer's windpipe. The African could
utter but one dismal yell. Brian started op, barked
violently, awakening Liddesdale, who, jumping from his
his bed, seized his rifle, stepped forth, followed

by the stag hound, to discover what had happened.
The dog► rushed forward, baying and menacing; and
Liddesdale could only see by the glimmering light of the
stars, something receding from him. It was the body of
the Hottentot being dragged along by a fierce and strong
hymna, that never once let loose the hold at the throat.
Brian had rushed into a thicket, and made an attack on
the brute. Liddesdale hesitated to fire, being apprehen-
sive that he should shoot the man or his own dog. On a
sudden all rolled down the edge of a steep bank together.
Liddesdale followed, the hyaena fled before Brian, and
Liddesdale examining the poor h'rdsman's wound, found
it to be mortal, for he had been suffocated with his own
blood. Brian returned; it seemed like an extraordinary
instinct, and an intervention of Providence, for at the
same moment the cattle in the inclosure were lowing dis-
mally, and the heart-piercing shrieks of Mrs. Liddesdale
floated in the night air. The dog flew to the inclosure.
The bold heart of Liddesdale quailed. He sprang over
the fence, and there beheld an appalling sight indeed.
A large spotted hymna had dragged the boy Alick from
his bed, and vas inflicting grievous wounds on his flesh;
but at the next moment the hyaena uttered a dismal
howl, and Liddesdale saw Brian snap upon the beast and
drag it backwards from the poor child, giving the fero-
cious brute a powerful gripe, which made the stag-
hounds teeth meet at the vertebrae of the neck, and there
he held his antagonist fast. The first effort of Liddes-
dale was to raise his shrieking boy; and gently again to
place him on his bed. He then rushed with a sabre on
the hyaena, who was struggling with mighty efforts, and
rolling over and over with Brian, who, however, never
relinquished his hold, notwithstanding being torn every
moment with the sharp claws of the hymna. Liddesdale
observing this, disabled the murderous beast by a cut
across each joint of the leg-bone, and at length succeed-
ed in plunging the sabre into the heart of the hyaena,
when the crimson blood rushed along the floor of the
cabin.

In the third Part of the "Summer Holiday"
—the two former have already appeared—there
are several interesting particulars respecting
celebrated English oaks. Strange to say, how-
ever, the author makes no mention of four of the
most celebrated ones—viz. the one in Windsor
Park, for ever associated with Jack Falstaff and
the Merry Wives of Windsor; the huge Fairlop
oak which was cut down a few years since, and
was considered, we believe, the largest and
oldest in the country ; the one in which Charles
the Second took shelter on his flight from Wor-
cester, and the famous one, still shown to the
inquisitive traveller, beneath whose ample shade
Sir Phillip Sidney is said to have been born. In
quoting the line " Time bath moulded into
beauty many a tower," the author is guilty of
two inaccuracies. In the first place, he attri-
butes it to Mason, whereas it was written by Sir
Walter Scott; and secondly, he substitutes
"moulded" for " mouldered," thereby destroy-
ing all the poetical beauty of the idea. Of the
few remaining articles, the cleverest, or at any
rate the most humourous, is the " Letter from
Barney -Brallaghan to Oliver Yorke, Esq."