REYNARD ASLEEP. —An adventure, of strange occurrence, since the present frost set in, happened to a sporting character of many years’ standing in the neighbourhood of Petersfield, who took his gun for the purpose of killing a snipe. It so happened to be one of those favoured days of good fortune, in a variety of sporting luck rarely to be met with, when every card turned up trumps, and he well feathered his bag with the game in question, viz., snipes, teal, ducks, and drake, between the hours of 10 a.m. and 1 p.m. During a part of this time, in his rambles along the river banks separating Hants and Sussex, when up jumped Puss, was shot at, wounded, and made off in the best way she could to a double fence close by, where she evidently showed unmistakable signs of difficulty in rising the bank, and which created a doubt of her ability to accomplish. Upon reaching and closely inspecting the spot, but not finding her, as expected, the bank was crossed, and the opposite side well explored, when, after passing to and fro three times by the spot, the keen eye of our sporting friend espied to a certainty, as he thought, the object of his search on the top of a bank. Not being one of the fox-hunting fraternity he quietly placed his gun upon the ground, and stealthily approached sufficiently close, and was in the act of making a sure grab with his hand, being less than a foot from puss, as he thought. Therefore, judge ye, who can, of his startling surprise, when up started old Reynard, as fine a fellow ever carried a brush, suddenly, with a rush from his lair, and dashed onwards, whilst his disappointed and almost alarmed expectant captor retreated backward in all haste, having a doubt under the circumstances as to which side of the question the greatest amount courage rested at the moment after they were coming in contact.— Sussex Express.