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sooner he leaves off trying to emulate Bumby, the better for himself and his masters. Poor Pharos is quite the shell of the handsome peacock he was last year, and his flanks heaved as if his very heart was breaking under the two-miles-and-a-half infliction-rather a piteous confession for the son of a St. Leger and an Oaks winner. John had a rare joke at his brother's expense, as he walked in and insisted that he should pass the post, and not disgrace the family by being distanced. Bonnie Morn looked even better than he did at Ascot; and considering what a late May foal he is (chroniclers assert that he was born on the morning that his half-brother, Daniel O'Rourke, won the Derby), he is not so very far amiss in point of size. His head is plain, though not sour, and his back and legs as good and workmanlike as I ever saw. As a seal to the new "alliance" (which will give the "poor public" a nice wrench some day), Alfred Day handed over Lord Palmerston's green jacket to Marlow, and did the honours for the grey; while his brother William was on a most miserable weed, Varna, who hardly looked up to 7st. The half-bred Hind is not unlike her relation, Elcot, but not near so big, and with a most fidgetty temper; in fact, Whitehouse, who begins to show symptoms of coming stoutness, had to dodge round her several times. before she would let him mount. Dartmouth has far more of the h.-b. about him, and is not half so good-looking as Arnaut, who ought to have more in him. Joshua's friends thought he had met with more than a 3lbs. beating from the grey at Ascot, so he kept away, and Namur is a very poor specimen of Salisbury winners.
The match between Andover and Ivan (for so it was considered), at 10lbs., was a wonderfully interesting one; and certainly the condition in which the eldest child of Van Tromp showed here was a pretty convincing proof that George Abdale kept his weather-eye open when he was a pupil of John Osborne's. Still he has all that narrow leggy build, and poor back, which prejudiced us so against him last year. His head, too, is far from good, and his pasterns short and without any real spring in them. Andover looked big, and had evidently stood at ease since the Derby, as there was the remains of a curb, for which he had to be doctored almost immediately on his return, very visible on his off-leg. Ivan was regularly beat for speed the moment the Derby victor challenged him; but the pace, considering that the course is one and a half miles of no ordinary severity, was done in 2 ms. 52 secs., which is a very good average time. Both horses seemed to have had one dig with the spur, and Andover had to sweat not a little for his triumph. If he had been quite up to the mark, he could have given away 18lbs. The Daneburyites must be a very stolid lot, as I did not hear them give Alfred Day one cheer for any of his three victories. The Stewards' Plate, with its 83 subscribers, sunk to nothing before Hermit, whose old friend Rataplan was reserved for Winchester. Some people will have it that Mr. Parr has only hired this horse for the season for 1200 sovs. If so, he bids fair to make as great a harvest out of him as Heseltine did out of Alice Hawthorne. The Hermit improves every time I have seen him since the 2000gs. ; and I am not sure that he will not eventually prove a more valuable horse than Andover. Little David's running was quite suicidal of his chance, and opinions seemed to be divided as to whether he ran away with Hornsby, or Hornsby ran away with
him. Some how or other, he does not seem to be getting his deserts this year. His forehand is especially striking, and, in short, I do not remember any Slane equal to him in general look. Barrel has lost all his two-year-old promise, and looks a mere hack. The Mottisfont Stakes brought out a very nice quartet. Border Chief appeared very well; but 5lbs. extra, and a somewhat up-hill finish, told its tale. He was bought at Doncaster last year for 155gs., Flatterer fetching 185gs., and his present opponent, Titormus, 200gs. The latter appears as if he has had quite enough to do this year, and so stale, that the instant Alfred Day shook up Kingstown, he was fairly shot out of the race, Kingstown is a low, level, not very lengthy, but a very racing-like horse, well coupled-up, and Derby-like in every way. His head is rather clumsy and sour, but he is a very clever goer. William the Third only went to help him, but there is a game cut-andcome-again look about this colt that took my fancy exceedingly. He is certainly the best Hero junior that I have seen, and hence it is only right that he should have fallen to Mr. Powney's lot. Between one of the races, I sauntered down to John Day's establishment, and took a general survey of its exterior. The house is a very pretty little place, with a complete snuggery in front of it-to wit, a little garden with a hedge completely surrounding it, and a tree, with seats and a table under, completely overshadowing it. I thought to myself how many ring swells would really and truly love to sink the man in the woodpecker for an hour or two, if they could only sit among the branches, and hear Alfred and John discuss their trials in committee. The latter has about forty horses in training, but the stables, on which no expense was spared by Lord George Bentinck and others of Old John's masters, are capable of containing several more. Bay Middleton, with his game front foot, is housed in a paddock within sight of them. It may therefore be truly averred of Danebury that the Derby and Two Thousand-Guinea winners, in 1854, were strictly home produce, as the old horse migrated thither from his Doncaster paddocks in 1847. "Grandfather Day" used to train at Houghton Down, where his son Isaac afterwards tutored Dangerous, and a host of other Chapplebestridden winners." Grandmother Day too was as well-known in the racing world as Crucifix herself, whose racing triumphs she was spared to see. She was equal to being Lady President of the Royal Veterinary College, and, in fact, I doubt whether even the great Field himself would have cared to encounter her in an argument on ringbone. In short, she trained the horses, and went regularly round to see if they were properly done up, or had cleared out their bins with as much method and tact as any man. As the Yorkshireman considered that the secret of " them Sikhses being such good plucked 'uns'" in the late war, was their undeniable strain from Sir Tatton, so we cannot wonder that the children and grandchildren of such a rare old Saxon dame both train and ride so well. In one of the many pleasant strolls which I have taken to my friend Mr. Harry Hall's studio, on a Newmarket forenoon, I once encountered a very characteristic likeness of her, but I never had the privilege of seeing her in the flesh, with her black crunch bonnet and thick walking-stick.
The list was so shady, and the weather so much the contrary, that I never breathed the Sussex air till the Goodwood Cup day, in company with a very small train of excursionists. When I left London, the morn
ing was enough to give any one "the dismals;" but long before I caught a glimpse of the English Channel, the sun's perpendicular heat was playing with fearful force, and so it continued for the entire day. When I look back to the Charles XII. (1842), Alice Hawthorne, and Nancy Cup days, the only other ones I ever "assisted at," I could not help drawing some painful contrasts. The card this year had sunk down into quite an attenuated affair; there did not seem near the usual attendance; the House company was thin, and there was no "yellow with red cap and gold tassel." The splendid stables too, which Lord George built, are levelled to the ground, and not a local racehorse allowed to show its nose on the place. Alack and well-a-day for the time when Kent had some thirty under orders in his stable each meeting! The old spirit has sadly died out; and the very visitors, after having been skinned alive year after year at Chichester, fly away and go to rest so far off, that if the Duke's trumpeter could blow a thirty-mile blast, he would hardly wake them all at once from their beds. There seemed much fewer policeman than usual, and some few white-smocks were on duty with the "A's," while their comrades walked their young ladies about. Between them and the militia, the Mary Annes seemed to receive plenty of "Eyes right-Attention," during the afternoon. Genuine dog-carts still flourish here in all their primitive simplicity: I met one unhappy wretch with his tongue out, drawing fourteen hens in a coop; while three others broke away from a tree to which they were tied, and chased, with a cart at their heels, an unhappy wight, who had offended them, till he ran up another tree and watched them yelping at the bottom. The "noble lords," who have just abolished this nuisance, would have been delighted at these striking instances of the necessity of legislation.
But to work: Ten races and a walk-over were on the card, and an ugly, lop-eared, loinless brute, called Dalston, who seemed worth about £25, first met our eye, as the representative of Hambleton, in the 200 Sovs. Sweepstakes. The Ascot Stakes quarrel seems to be made up, and "Bob Basham" was "up" for the stable again. Dirk Hatteraick, with Lord Eglinton, Captain Pettatt, Fobert, Arthur Briggs, and Marlow, holding a Spigot-lodge conference round him, was a much pleasanter sight. He is quite fifteen three, and with as fine gaskins and as stout limbs as we ever saw in a horse; his depth of girth, too, is magnificent; but still he is altogether plain-head especially so, and, like all the Van Tromps, light in the back ribs. The Moonbeam colt, who, in consequence of Mr. Parr's Derby aspirations, excited very great notice, did not, however, fall off in this respect; he was very neat, and we heard Isaac Day designating him as "one of those small horses I like." The public, however, were sadly disappointed, and when they saw what a deficiency in length there was, they turned on their heels, muttering "a mere pig," and certainly his action did nothing towards making them qualify the expression. He seemed also to bear strong traces of warbles. Marlow chuckled famously as he returned to scale, and declared he had "scarcely been at half speed." His colt's feeble powers of beginning, and sore shins to boot, quite account for his Liverpool defeat; but with luck, I shall be very much surprised if those fine limbs of his don't fairly mow down the Derby hill like a scythe. It makes one really jolly to see the Eglinton star once more creeping above the horizon.
It was now Lord Zetland's turn; and in a few minutes his Lordship, Mr. Milner, Job Marson, Abdale, and "The Aske Blacksmith," resolved
themselves into a Tros committee, under the shadow of the hill. The latter rare specimen of a Yorkshireman seems to unite the office of a "Leadbitter" to that of plating, as he goes about everywhere with the Aske horses; and woe to the "Nobbler" whom he happened to seize with his brawny pincers. To all the Sussex laughs against him about Tros's Stakes defeat, he had gallantly replied, "Just you wait till we get Job on him" and he was quite right, as the horse is as lazy a creature as ever stepped. Hence it was utterly impossible that Carrol, especially after having been amiss for a fortnight or more, could hope either to "get him out" or "keep at" him for two miles and a-half. He is grown and decidedly improved, and with plenty of length. In truth, I can only repeat what I said of him after his maiden-race at York-that he is as like old Lanercost as he can stare, from the star on his forehead to the tip of his thin tail, and that he is "certain to ripen into a very game Cup horse." His shoulder does not seem so loaded as it did then, and his walking paces are as long and lazy as ever; so much so, that he never seems to bend his knee at all. He must be surely a better horse than Ivan, although not near so quick as Hospodar! Apollonius is a gaudy horse, highish on the leg, with no great length, and quarters like Bourton's, while Boer is considerably grown. I might add, that Tros's condition was perfect, as he pulled up with scarcely a damp hair on him; and the friends of the chesnut averred that their steed had been "disappointed" below the distance.
The Molecombe Stakes produced one of the finest Derby two-yearolds I have seen out for many a-day-to wit, the Cotherstone colt out of Polydora, who was purchased by Mr. Payne at Lord Spencer's 1853 Yearling Sale, for 365 gs. It is, in fact, very rare to see one so welldeveloped; and he reminded me very much of Roebuck, on a very large and not near so pretty a scale; but I doubt his being a very quick animal. Nagara was a very slight mean-looking sort of Nutshell, and Trireme was plain, useful, and stout-legged, but, as I thought, slightly tender on the off hind-foot. William the Third's quarters are rather shabby, but his strong game rush at the finish quite justified the fondness I formed for him at Stockbridge. The Professor was all forehand, and seemed a mere hunter at best, with a slight inclination to be gooserumped; while Lady of Lyons has a nasty drooping back and style about her, which will do Flatcatcher no credit.
The miserable shadow of the Goodwood Cup then came on to the scene, and never did Virago appear in such hard tip-top trim. She has thickened and improved considerably since the spring; and in the absence of any other treat, it was really one to see Wells holding her in like any Pocket Hercules. Cobnut was on the ground, but he was so stiff that they hardly deemed it worth while to start him, and left the second honours to that extraordinary heavy-headed shirker-Indian Warrior. Even if the hard ground had not frightened him away, West Australian would not have met her at 31 lbs. ; but it is averred that he will not only go to York, if the ground be favourable, but throw down the gauntlet to her at 22 lbs. in the Doncaster Cup. I trust that such a glorious joust between the Ascot and Goodwood Cup winners may come off; still my impression is, that the horse will be beaten, and that she will fairly outstride him whenever she "comes."
Mr. "Howard's" luck pursued him in the Bentinck Memorial, and his Elopement filly placed the first wreath on the brow of Surplice. She
takes after her dam, and is a narrow mare, rather of the Virago type, with an ugly head on a very light ewe neck, and rather long but remarkably clean in the leg. The Refraction colt has grown considerably since he was sold at Tattersall's. Hazel, too, was not a bad animal, barring a great curb, and Paletôt (who caught the prickers pretty severely) was a very racing well coupled up son of Canezou, somewhat of the corky Arthur Wellesley order. Paradigm was very racing-like, but her elastic bandages could not prevent one of the most piteous breaks down in the near front leg we ever saw. She fairly hopped along, holding it up like a dog, and they must have been hours getting her home to Singleton. Dirk can give Corcbus a good lump of weight; and hence we were rather sorry not to see him out again, as he was pretty certain to have won, if the latter's place be any criterion. In the next 200 Sovs. Stakes, Antoinette was as good-looking as Whistle was pig-like, so the latter had a melancholy stern chace-Rogers doing a little "coffeegrinding" at the finish by way of a change. Neither this performance nor so much trainer-changing says much for Mr. Mare's turf hopes.
Nothing galloped in such form as the low, lengthy, plain-headed Pumicestone in the Racing Stakes, and looking at the previous running of Scythian and Champagne, the performance was a better one on the part of the latter than the former, who had his sides tapped not a little. He is a good-looking horse, and I suspect the fact of his having been chosen to do duty instead of Acrobat, was not the 6lbs. penalty on the latter, but a dim prophetic sensation at last that the more they saved him the better, with two such heavy stakes at York, and the St. Leger in view. This notion became reality after the next race, in which the Dervish imposture was fairly unmasked. As I have ceaselessly expressed my opinion about the utter folly of backing such a horse for the Derby, &c., ever since I set eyes on him at York, I was really quite delighted to see him cut up as he did. Alfred Day must be as great a convert now to Butler's steadily expressed belief as to his cowardice, as Templeman was, when he went to scale after the Derby. It would be a treat to hear the three "tell their experience" of him. The claims of Acrobat have always been laughed to scorn by the stable, and yet he beat off Arthur Wellesley in a canter at Liverpool, while it was all that Dervish could do to squeak through from him here by a short head. With the exception of showing a great deal of temper, he exactly enacted the Derby running over again. He seemed to be winning in a canter, but about two distances from home, he was taken with his old " pheasant fit," and kept dying away every stride. In fact Alfred Day dare not punish him, or he would have shut up at once. The most infinitesimal prick on the off side was all I could see. The Ring gave one of their suspicious whistles when it was over, and the stable had to gulp down their St. Leger feelings as they best could. As usual they tried feebly to explain it away, (it was Day's "fine" riding, not Templeman's bad riding this time) but with very little success, and their slack-loined champion only got laughed at as Farrer led him off. This will teach sundry persons how unjustifiable it is to whisper away not only the riding-talent, but the character of a man like Sim Templeman. For my part, I never saw a horse more carefully and coolly handled than Dervish was at the Derby, and my only regret is, that when Lord Derby chose to honour him by taking him off his best Oaks mare, Templeman did not send in his jacket then and there, and claim to ride Mincemeat for his fourth master, Mr, Cookson,