generally a buff waistcoat, and a flower in his button-hole. A sale was what he loved, and Mr. Tattersall had few more staunch ring men on a Doncaster day. Last year he was a long time before he could please himself and Hopwood. We thought that he was going to bring down a lot, when it would take wing among the three and four hundreds, whither he never cared to follow it, and at last he was suited with Fitzmalcolm at 125 gs. He was every inch an English country gentleman, proud of his ward, but with no city airs; proud of the sport he loved; and proud of that Ceramic Art, which rose under his auspices "above all Roman fame."

Earl Cardigan's sympathies were not with the Turf, although he seldom missed going into position with his carriage, nearly opposite the winning-post at Croxton Park, and always came to Northampton with his race party in a carriage-and-four. He looked upon Newmarket and Doncaster more with an eye to manoeuvring cavalry; and Tattersall's had most charms for him when the calendar told him of a "Milward Monday," or some neat stepping carriage-horses were to be disposed of. At Mr. John Anderson's sale he was a very conspicuous object in the gallery of the deceased's carriage-horse mart; and he bought, if we remember rightly, a couple of the cracks; but, owing to a mistake as to time, not exactly the pair he wanted. His great hunter was The Dandy, one of those odd-tempered horses which had to be taken to the meet in blinkers, and spent half his time before hounds settled to run, in standing on his hind legs, or trying, when on all-fours, to savage somebody. Dick Christian thought he had "never seen his match for folly." "His master is a fire-eater, and he is a flesh-eater," said another. The Earl rode him as straight as a bullet over the Wreake (which at last gave the black his death of cold), and through the bulfinches. His riding to hounds was not of the character of Lord Wilton's, Mr. Gilmour's, or Captain Lloyd's, and, like his valour in the Crimea, somewhat "undisciplined." There was no finesse or fine eye for country about it. There were the hounds, and he would be with them, just as, in after years, he rode right "up to the Russian gun. At Newmarket, he generally rode about, or sat in the carriage-with her ladyship, and seemed to care very little for the sport. Like the late Duke of Bedford, his heart was in the gorse and the woodlands; and he opened his purse nobly for hunt subscriptions when occasion required-an art at which many, especially in the Midlands (where they have been spoilt by too liberal masters), are anything but adepts. However unpopular he might have been in early days, all was forgotten and forgiven after the "Six Hundred " had ridden into "the Valley of Death;" and the sovereign people were only anxious to catch a sight of him and cheer him on field days, at last. Like "The Duke," after Apsley-house had been attacked, he took this revulsion of feeling with great calmness.

The twenty-fourth contest since that of 1829 on "the silent course" has come off at last, and the Oxonians have scored 15 to 10. People seem to take more interest than ever in fortunes of "the blue boys," not of Gainsborough, but of Alma Mafer. The dons might be seen elbowing through the crowd, and occasionally under fire from the peashooters. On the Saturday before, Hammersmith-bridge was as crowded as it was wont to be on a race-day. It was in connection with this bridge that Lord Denman differed from his court, and held that not

allowing a man to proceed one way was an imprisonment; and here it is that his son always takes his stand on the day, and makes a pretty accurate forecast as to the result. When he used to pull, a quarter of a century ago, the river-side was merely a promenade for University men, but no one else cared to go.

This year neither University seemed to enter into the preliminary training of their men with the relish of old days. Things looked weak at Oxford till Mr. George Morrison arrived as "consulting counsel," and the momentous message was "wired" to Cambridge that Marsden had to leave stroke and go to No. 4. It is in this implicit obeying of orders that Oxford's strength lies. At Cambridge there was no Rev. Mr. Maule, as there was last year, coming over from his living, week after week, to keep the crew up to the mark. Kelly came down and made some alteration; but, if the reports were correct, Mr. Tom Egan, who has trained many a winning crew in his day, saw fit to reverse matters, and the crew prospered under him so little that Griffiths was quite a balm to their spirits, when as a last resource he took them in hand, and shouted at them from the Thames bank in the old style. Pinckney looked very slight for his post, and he ground his teeth as if every stroke was labour and sorrow to him, and poor Gordon's fiery red head, with that big pigeon-breast of which he was so proud, was desired in the day of battle. A cad, who watched the Cambridge men dodging about near the starting-post earlier in the week, asked a brother-cad what they were doing. "Doing!" said he, "practising the toss for sides, to be sure. The Sportsman newspaper seems to hit the reason best why it is virtually a repetition of "C swamped," "C sank," every year. “It must have been apparent to everyone acquainted with the art of rowing, that the Cambridge crew this year had two faults so fatal and radical in their nature, that they would effectually prevent them, or any other crew, from winning a race in good company.' They were clipping their stroke, and doing their work in front' of the rowlock, instead of 'behind'-at the 'end' of the stroke instead of the beginning.' Two evil effects follow: clipping the boat makes the boat roll, and consequently stops it in a measure; doing the work at the end instead of the beginning buries' the boat under the water, instead of lifting it out of the water. It certainly does seem strange that two such primary rules of rowing should have been so totally disregarded this year. We may fairly suppose that the excellence of the Oxford boat this year was mainly owing to the unremitting, almost incessant, coaching of Mr. Morrison. I watched the crews every day, and to the last Mr. Morrison's coaching seemed to me to be capable of being put into half-a-dozen lines, somewhat in this fashion: Get well forward, your bodies well down between your legs; when furthest forward, put your oar in at once-in other words, don't clip your stroke, or hang over the water; when you have your oar in the water pull it through at once, and with one stroke, don't make two of it. At the end of the stroke do not let your body go forward to meet the oar, but pull the oar up to the body;' or, in other words, sit well up to your work, and do not meet' your oar. all, throw your whole strength and weight on your oar at the 'beginning of the stroke, sitting lightly on your seats, and try with your whole body, legs, and strength to lift' the boat out of the water, as it were from under you.' Other minor points there were, but this was the

Above

main 'burden of his song.' The consequence we all know; the Cantabs buried their boat every stroke, while the Oxford crew lifted theirs out of the water almost. Mr.' Denman replied most effectively at the dinner to Mr. Skey's "medical advertisement letters" (as they have been well called) and let light into the wild legend of the boat crew which had died from over-exertion.

Dog-star weather and small fields, and middling weather and better fields, characterized the first and second day at Northampton. Mr. Savile and his Skirmishers, grey and brown, helped not a little to make the meeting by the struggles in the Cup and Queen's Plate. Their sire ran a grand race over this course, and so did John Davis, and that long, gradual ascent will try the stuff that horses are made of, There are two dozen foals to Voltigeur's credit in 1866-67, of which we know nothing as yet; but even if there is no avenger among them, some grandson may yet be found to answer Dr. Shorthouse's defi to any of his blood to win a Derby. We have quite a Yorkshireman's tender recollection of the lusty black-brown, with poor Job and Bobby Hill and the big Aske blacksmith as his esquires at Epsom and Doncaster, and it is most irritating to see him "sat upon" in his old age by the learned Doctor" or any other man." If ever one of his sons or grandsons does win one of the "great events," there will be a Yorkshire salvo, and, as they say in the House, the Doctor will understand that cheer."

Beauty received 2 lbs. from Athena and gave her a "long head," beating, in exchange; Blinkhoolie, by his unflinching gameness with Blueskin in the dead-heat and run-off for the Queen's Plate, showed himself more of a horse than he has ever done yet; and if the useful Lord Hastings lacked pace when Mariner bore down upon him with a wet sail at last, the Townley stable had some solace in the running of one of their sale lot, Carlotta by King of Trumps. Vespasian, the winner in 1867, ran fifth in The Spencer Plate; while Mr. Pitt, the winner in '66, was only walked in the paddock, and then sent off home. Thormanby sadly wanted some turn, and here Ironmaster gave him a slight one at last. At its second year The Waterloo Gorse or "Goose" Stakes (as one paper printed it) sank to two starters, one of whom broke down.

The Newmarket Craven Meeting came off better than it once promised to do. It opened badly enough with the mistake as to Knight of the Garter's number, which was an expensive one to those who had laid against Lady Coventry, the connecting link in the Middle Park between the Kingsclerc pair and Lady Elizabeth. The Duke of Newcastle's trial horse Silenus did something on his own account; and then Admiral Rous showed that another winter had not rusted his matching power. He had five of them during the week, and he won four, and received in the other. Amara, Nutgirl, and Puff were his three instruments of torture to the intrepid but suffering young 'uns. One of them is of "the Pastrycook sort," which he never likes to leave on a Middle Park day; and the other two were purchases of Captain Machell's, at the Burghley sale. Both of them were by Knight of St. Patrick; and one cost 100 gs., and the other 120 gs. Moslem, a 570-guinea purchase of Mr. Crawfurd's on the same spot the year before, made the first hit of the meeting by bringing the Baron's Restitution to grief. The Parson, a half-brother to Wild

Dayrell, and Phoebus, a compound of Mr. Merry's Derby and St. Leger winners, Thormanby and Sunbeam, helped to pay Russley expenses during the week. The latter is an especially shifty and uncertain gentleman. In his race with Harold and Sir David Gam he was beaten a head for second place, and a neck for first. In the Column Stakes, he went away from Booty and another bad'un hard held; and in the Benington Stakes, where he was only on 2lbs. better terms with Herald, after trying hard to cut it, he won cleverly by a length. The Biennial showed what Sir David Gam and the Parson were worth; and Blue Gown's friends declare that they ought to have come through from the Bushes, as the Earl did. It may be so; but we never could reconcile with staying power the fact of Blue Gown running so well over the Champagne course, and failing, with odds on him, two days later, when he was only asked for another furlong.

His

Montbar (a 60-guinea purchase of Mr. P. Price's) has added another to the winning-list of the eight Buccanneers which Mr. Cookson sold at Doncaster in '66; and, as it was, he handled the 3,000-guinea Cork Jacket pretty summarily. Blueskin showed another bit of true Blacklock gameness by his struggle home over a severe 14-miles course with Montagnard at only 9lbs. for his year, and finishing well-up at his shoulder. Badsworth was the third of the Carnival winners, a rare good allowance up to April 15th, and only 13 foals to begin with. It must have been a grand subject for an historical companion-picture to Ajax defying the Lightning-Lord Glasgow insisting on giving a stone for the year to Retty (when the match might have been made at evens), and retiring proudly to the stand from the Bird Cage, after dropping his century and Challoner's fee, with five lengths to the bad. lordship's triumph was to come, when his Maid of Masham colt cutdown Friponnier over the Ditch In for the Claret. It was a grand surprise, but not greater than when he defeated Lord Clifden with Rapid Rhone, or ran clean away from Goodwood and Lecturer with a Toxophilite colt for the Doncaster Queen's Plate. To make the thing complete Aldcroft, who had worked down to the weight and ridden during the week, should have hoisted the white-and-red banner once more. Sister to Hermit shed her maidenhood, and brought a race to Middle Park, which has not prospered so far this season. A great deal was said, when Captain Machell gave 3,100 gs. for Vauban, how he and Hermit would worry Julius between them; but the Duke's horse did not find 66 the proppy one" at the scratch for the Port.

Durham had a meeting worthy of the county which has bred so many Derby winners, with our friend Isaac of Streatlam as their Dr. Locock. Mr. Eastwood had the pleasure of a telegram to say that both Retort and The Sawyer had won, and we have no doubt that Challoner had something of the kind at Newmarket, when Master Tom, which he bred out of respect to Carnival, showed six the way home in the Elemore Stakes. He was down from Newmarket, and riding at Catterick Bridge on the Thursday. In those fine "Richmond trial" meadows Géant des Batailles took a first at last, but both Master Tom and Retort were whippers-in under a 5lb. penalty in the Mowbray Stakes, which does not look well for their future.

The Duke of Grafton's hounds have only had a moderate season. Frank Beers was very keen for sport, but the foxes have been bad, and they hardly ever made a good point; still in three days a-week, they

bowled over fifty brace. In pleasant Preston Wood (of which one-half has been stubbed up) two vixens laid up their litters of three each in the long sag at the root of a tree, not a hundred yards from each other. The vixens were so impudent that they would positively come leaping into the yard of the neighbouring farmer (the breeder of "Rural Dean"), and try to carry off a hen at noon-tide before his very eyes. As it was, they got about forty at one time or other of the day, and the cubs were so fat when the hounds came, that half of them were chopped the very first morning. The Bicester, in consequence of George Beers's illness, were handled by their master, who is quite a novice, and they have not done much. Boxall will be their huntsman next season. The Bedale season-thanks to that rare good sportsman, and field-master Mr. John Booth, and Carr the new huntsman-was a decided success. On their last day they found a brace of foxes at Scatton Plantation, ran across to Hudswell Banks, opposite the paper-mill at Richmond, and then back across Throstle Gill, and after a good deal of ringing about between Hudswell and Richmond, at last killed on the dam of the paper-mill; time 2 hours 35 minutes. The run was over a fearfully rough country; the fencing very strong and plenty of it. We are glad to hear that Carr stays on. Will Maiden comes as first whip.

Up to the end of February, the season was good, but during March they had six blank days (about a fourth of what they had last season). The places which are so short of foxes are the Marquis of Aylesbury's estates of Jerveaux and Tanfield, where no fox has been found for these three seasons. Lord De Grey's property at Hutton Moor is sadly lacking, and so is the Hornby Castle estate, which had another tale to tell in the days of Kit Skaife and Sim Templeman's rare old master. It is a very sad pity when owners, with such ample means, will, more from "want of thought" than " want of heart," create so much heartburning among neighbours. Gamekeepers know well enough what a master means when he says he will have foxes, and the latter has only to speak the word decisively. Mr. Musters' offer to hunt the Quorn country four days a week, if the covers, draining, and earth-stopping were found him, has been duly accepted. Sir Frederick Johnstone was quite prepared for two days in the top country, and he had even commenced building and had taken a lease for three years of the late Mr. Lyne Stephens's stables at Melton Mowbray. Frank Gillard, Mr. Musters' present huntsman, comes with the hounds. Lord Hastings's liberality in hunting the hounds, and his kind, friendly way in the field, were duly acknowledged, but there was, of course, a little reservation on the subject of punctuality, in which his lordship has certainly not excelled. Mr. Musters is grandson of the great Mr. Musters, of Annesley, and gets well along for a 16-stone man. He brings his own horses with him. The Quorn horses have had a hard season, and not time enough to get over it. Still those who know good stuff when they see it, will go for the grey Tipperary, a perfect Angelo in fencing; The Duffer, on which Pike went well; and Wanderer, Woodcote, Lighthead, Vulcan, Express, &c., all good young The Methodist was once a stable crack of Mr. Clowes's, and Blue Beard (alias Jack Story's favourite) is also a patent safety over Leicestershire. Among the heavy-weight horses are Peter, Melbourne, and Waterpark (a great water jumper), and Tom Wilson can speak up

ones.