waiting for Sittingbourne at the Old Course starting post. The Chesnut was in massive white bandages; and considering that lameness kept him out of work for the greater part of May and June, he did himself no discredit, although he was running half-a-mile above his distance. In fact, he had so much the best of it at the Stand, that the race seemed won. Vindex, however, responded instantaneously to the whip, and Mr. Johnson had a different tale for the telegraph. It was a remarkably pretty race, and it seemed quite strange to see Marson returning to scale, and Scott's head lad with his hand on the bridle. The next race sent the committee rejoicing away, as they netted £300, for the fund, with Tadcaster, who is a very different animal now to the little "jumped up" production he was at Doncaster last year. The remnants of a large curb on the near leg were, in fact, the only thing to spoil him. And so the curtain fell on Wednesday, and eschewing the cigar smoke and bustle of the rooms, we hied off some five miles to the roof tree of a friend.

I had fully intended to run over in the morning to the Fairfield sale, but the elements were so troublesome that I gave up the idea, and hence nothing sporting greeted me before my arrival at Knavesmire, except a yearling short-horn bull, who took a high fence into the road to get at a passing lady-love, in a style that would have done infinite credit to Bourton. The father of English sportsmen, Mr. "Lanercost" Kirby, passed me in his gig within a few yards of the stand, where he took his time-honoured seat under the portico. He is, we believe, upwards of 92 now; while Sir Tatton Sykes, whose eyesight again permits to enjoy the sport, is quite a boy in comparison, and only entering his eightythird! There were eleven events on the card, exclusive of a walk-over ; but although they only occupied some four and a-half hours, everyone seemed dreadfully tired. Well! be that as it may. The Filly Sapling was the first one on the card, and none of its gentle candidates were of a very high stamp to look at. Dame Partlet rather belied the character she brought with her from Richmond. Like all the Chanticleers, she is short, and I thought rather slack behind the saddle to boot. Dame Judith who is very like her kinswoman, Ellermire, has more length, and without being very big, a racing Van Tromp cut about her, and stood her flogging most manfully. Owing to a little delay, it then seemed as if Vandal was to have his race to himself; but Capucine (who was ridden without spurs) did him cleverly when she did come out, and pulled up very full of running. Templeman also discarded these appendages when he mounted Sicily, who was wonderfully fidgetty during the operaion. From what I hear, poor Mr. Meiklam is never likely to recover, and "Sim" will thus lose a very long-tried and kind master. Saraband's appearance was very much looked for, and he did not disappoint expectation, as he is nice, compact, and well coupled-up, and as likely a Derby-horse as we have seen this year; perhaps he might have been a little fitter, but still there was not much amiss. Priestcraft was a bigger animal, Chicken merely short and neat, and Amy such a hack that her desertion at the post troubled no one but the owner. Jack Sheppard is a very sweet racing-like horse, and very like his half-brother SnowdonDunhill. Fayaway we did not like at all, as she is a loosish light-ribbed mare with no staying-look about her. Typee is quite the pet of that family, as Tom Taylor can testify. This over, the £3,300 Black Duck

Stakes came off, amid a heavy shower. It is, we hear, so called, from having originated with a few choice sporting souls at the Black Swan. Seven entries were made, but two "no produces" were declared, and as might have been expected, it next year sinks to a match, and the year after dies out. Alas! for his 1,000 guinea pluck! Lord Glasgow ran last with a slight hollow-backed thing in bandages. Cecrops was a short but much better-knit animal, and adorned in like manner, while Myrtle Bud was the very image of Dame Partlet, and Lord Alfred. It is strange that a great fine horse like Chanticleer should get every thing so short and little. Bonnie Morn is small, but a much higher stamp of horse in his build than any of these three. No charge of being stunted could be laid against Rambling Katie, who is a fine lop-eared Melbourne sort of mare, and far above the average in look; while her three companions seemed dear at £50 each. It was only right that such a stake should be won by the highest cross of the seven, to wit, Melbourne and Phryne, as the foal thus claimed kin with West Australian, Sir Tatton Sykes, and Canezou on the one side, and Hobbie Noble, The Reiver, and Elthiron, on the other. Whitehouse, too, deserved such a piece of luck, to rivet his re-union with Lord John Scott's stable.

The Trossites, whose horse has done some capital work since Goodwood, lost heart not a little when they found how confident the Grand Inquisitor party were; and well they might, as he certainly was a great raking fellow, and ran very true to his trial. Tros, on the contrary, sadly lacks length; and although Cliffe was put up here, instead of Caroll (who is in a weakly way again), he could make no better out with him. When Dr. O'Toole ran away with Salter (whose Chester fall set nearly all the doctors in that ancient town by the ears), some one called out it was Tros, but we felt sure he was much too lazy to do anything of the kind. Kingston looked in beautiful trim, but jumped aside at the word; and poor Basham, who remembered his Ascot row about him, walked him back again to the enclosure, looking (as Tom Oliver would say)" as if he had swallowed a waggon load of monkeys." The winner is by Cowl, and ran in a very unprepared state, second to Ivan at Richmond last year. Hospodar again sadly disappointed his adherents of the "red spots" in the Eglinton Stakes, and Lord Alfred, with his usual luck, got the stake, in consequence of being crossed by Corcbus. The latter colt seems to improve everytime we see him, and " Black Jemmy" was once more at his side, in great spirits about the tartan revival. Hospodar seemed fit to pull Marson out of his seat in his canter; but Job, like Bill Scott, "would have the rails," and was thus doubly swerved onto by his friends on the right. But for that, he must have been very near it; still, for a mile, a two-year-old in August has a great advantage over a three-year-old, at two stone. Canute was as usual in no form, another proof of the folly of not selling when you have a good offer at Newcastle or anywhere else, and having had not the ghost of a chance in this struggle. he wisely declined the Ebor St. Leger. A very pretty race here placed a clear £700 in Earl Wilton's pocket. His Pumicestone is a thoroughly racing colt, and not one throughout the whole meeting was brought to the post in more perfect trim. He is not, however, in the Great St. Leger; and if he was, he is not much if any beyond the Scythian form. The County Plate brought out the most distinguished lot of horses that have met for many day. All the world

knows of Virago-there was Ephesus too (not in great form by-the-bye) whose great stride has borne him to the van of so many short races— Kingston, the ever fresh holder of the Challenge Whip-Orestes the speedy crack of the year-King of Trumps, the very cleverest highblower that Yorkshire ever turned out-Vindex-Hospodar-and Ellermire, who has been carrying everything before her for some time past. Of Kingston we had no hopes, as he never was quick; but seeing how Virago cut down Meteora at Newmarket, we thought that her stride would have been fatal to everything here. The result proved the correctness of what an eminent handicapper said to us, as we left the course, the day before-Depend on it, Virago will be beaten to-morrow; she is not so quick as people think. Distance is what she wants." Hospodar again made a brave struggle, seeing that all his opponents were fresh; but Ellermire went like the wind, and King of Trumps's place showed that the criticisms on Cartwright's riding for the Dundas Stakes, when he made his run some 200 yards from home, were far from being unjust. Tom Dawson sadly needed the fillip which Captain Harcourt's fillies are giving him; as, what with Chief Justice and Co., he has had his own sorrows and disappointments of late. If his training and Aldcroft's riding cannot bring the stable into form again, nothing can. It was lucky for the ring that Captain is at present an "outsider," as such was his confidence in Ellermire, that he would have “ gone in a perfect perisher" and taken £10,000 to £1000 three or four times to a dead certainty. And thus, as far as we were concerned, ended the second day at York.

After two very rough days, came a very fine one to wind up the best meeting we ever attended at York. The fields were good, and seven "necks," five "heads," and four "half lengths," prove what the quality of one half of the finishes were. The betting men seemed to enjoy themselves hugely among the Yorkshire hams and muffins; and one of them, in a burst of jocularity, sent Dick the bellman round the town to publicly advertise the loss of a "charry-coloured cat with mahogany toes." We did not hear him, but our sides never ached so much with laughter as when he last year paraded the enclosure with "Wanted, one Captain Brian." As we came into town the next morning, it was quite a refreshing change, after so much racing, to meet with the Ainsty dogs and three scarlet-coated attendants, taking their morning's walk. There were forty-two couple of them, exclusive of eight couple left at home. As our brains have, however, no Cecil or Scribble acumen in them, we are unable to furnish any "pencillings" of their sterns and counte nances. Once more on Knavesmire, we were not a little pleased with Sir Rowland Trenchard, who looks far fresher and better than he did three years ago. Comfort, too, was a nice animal; but the stable seemed to have very little belief in her; and really their luck in the great handicaps this year has been so bad, that it is no wonder they are rather shy. We cannot say much for the four colt saplings, Crown Pigeon excepted, who has grown not a little since Northampton. Brother to Royal Hart is a big-limbed, loose sort of animal, and Airlie is a pony with neither length, speed, nor anything to recommend him. Hence, the orange banner of the sporting York M.P. cut a very poor figure in the eyes of his constituents, while Vandal gave Crown Pigeon an immense deal more to do than was anticipated. All Scott's cracks

were on the card; but it was pretty generally expected that the Derbydespised Acrobat would do battle for Knowsley. I got a good look at my old favourite at last, and very much pleased I was. There was certainly that slight want of length which struck me at Doncaster ; but still he is a magnificent "packed-up" horse-just the one to stand a heartbreaking run in from the distance. He is nearly as powerful as his half-brother, Longbow; and with as fine hips, quarters, and gaskins as ever horse had, and evidently up to a great weight. Perhaps, strictly speaking, he is more thoroughly dangerous than pretty, and his tail is set on in a style which speaks, like Vindex's, of his Camel descent. "Sim" looked very much pleased with his mount; but when he had settled into his place, he found the pace so paltry that he was obliged to force it himself for nearly a mile. It was too good, however, for Tros from the very start, as he was not quick on his legs, and never able to get near the front at all. Mountain Deer had undergone a very strong preparation for this race, but he broke down at the Middlethorpe turn, and will be seen no more this year-if ever. Nat swore he "would have won in a canter;" but he has, we fancy, a habit of saying so. As it was, Acrobat won with the most perfect ease, and Templeman had only to lift his hands from his withers, and give him a gentle shake. He had only one prick about the size of a pin's head on the off-side. Gamekeeper looked very ghost-like and miserable, while Ivan showed in decidedly finer form than on the Wednesday. The distance suited him better, and he is a wonderfully honest horse, to boot, or he could not have run such five good "seconds" as he has done. Ilis running with Arthur Wellesley, who was sold by Mr. Barton as a yearling for a very small sum, places Dervish in a worse light than ever. It is no great proof of wisdom in the York officials that neither Lord Alfred, Monge, Polydora colt, Dame Judith, Saraband, and Flatterer had any penalty in the Gimcrack Stakes; but even without them this goodly bunch of winners were splendidly bowled over by the Richmond Oaks filly Nettle, who for the first time showed in form. She is a very sweet, lengthy animal; powerful, and furnished to a degree. We have not seen a two-year-old with such a firm, well-made barrel for many a long day. Still it was any odds against her till Job, in the "Nutwith scarlet," was seen well in front from the very start, and winner after winner getting into grief as they swept down from the distance. Saraband sweated tremendously, and confirmed my notion of the previous day-that he wanted a little more time. This over, Templeman in his great coat, and Boiardo in his sheets, cantered over the course for the Knavesmire Stakes; and great was the rush to have a look at the "trial winner." He may be a very great horse, but really when a roarer has never achieved a victory of importance, and has stopped at the Two Thousand Guineas hill as he did, I should not be very keen to trust him for the St. Leger. At Newmarket he looked very light middled and tucked-up, and certainly nothing like a horse for a severe one-mile-and-three-quarters course. If he could have been in the Queen's Plate, which was run off as soon as he got out of the way, it is highly likely that Adelaide would have almost lost him over the three miles, which she covered at a most tremendous pace. It really did look as if she was going to pull it off, but she was fairly pumped out at the stand, where Marson caught her with his long-striding, hollow-backed giantess.

Still her preparation had been so perfect, that when Charlton had turned her head to the wind for a minute, she stepped back to scale nearly as dry as a bone. With this glorious taste of olden "four-mile plate" times, and looking upon selling races (except where they are under the Doncaster rule of half the surplus to go to the winner) as only a premium on sells, I took my departure, and found myself at half-past eleven once more in the "Great Babel," big with the hopes of another such pleasant week in Yorkshire next month. What a fortnight may bring forth, it is hard to say; but I am still for Acrobat, and if certain good Yorkshire judges are not very far out, Midsummer will run uncommonly well; Charlton is engaged to ride her, but if Mr. Padwick buys her, as he thinks of doing, Wells will of course have the mount. It is a year since I have seen her, but she was a wonderfully racing-looking thing then. My "weak sinew" forebodings about King Tom have been but too true, and his failure, and Hermit's non-entry, have sadly plucked the heart out of the contest. Calamus and Ivan ought to be forward; but The Trapper seems a very doubtful case, as his pepperers are always ready for action whenever there is the slightest disposition shewn to back him. Knight of St. George is not likely to stay, and unless Star of Surrey is to shine suddenly forth again, and Marsyas to get into his two-year-old form, there seems really nothing else of mark to go for it, unless Mr. Major has proved a veritable sorcerer with Autocrat. It is, however, thought that there will be a large field, quite as bad in quality as in Newminster's year. Then hey for Doncaster!

A WAR WITH MONKEYS.

(FROM AN EAST-INDIAN CORRESPONDent.)

There is a large black-faced monkey to be met with throughout Bengal, which is denominated by the natives Hanneman, and which forms a very prominent feature in the extensive catalogue of their numerous divinities.

When Lieut.-Col. Wilkinson commanded the 22nd Regiment of Bengal Native Infantry, at the station of Midnapore, a large and aged bannian tree grew on a spot adjacent to his dwelling, which had been from time immemorial colonized by a tribe of these monkeys, who, by long right of usage, seemed to have claimed it as their freehold inheritance. Beneath this tree stood a Hindoo temple, occupied by a Brahmin priest, who was in the practice of feeding this nigrose fraternity with rice, fruits, and other dietary offerings. From long encouragement, these monkeys had become so exceedingly daring that no portable article could be left safely within the sphere of their locomotive agency, and whatever object they got hold of, they invariably mounted the tree with it, and discussed its merits in comparative self-security, for they regarded this arborescent fastness as their sanctuary.