course, never got beyond the Duke's stand, and no condition can make stay further than a mile; while Speed-the-Plough's chance was sadly spoilt by his lad's losing his stirrup just at last. The D. I. Plate brought about a beautiful finish between the REIVER and CANDLEWICK, in which little Ashmall rode the former with very great determination. Both his sides were very bloody, but Candlewick and her light weight just beat him. Alderman Copeland, we understand, thought himself wonderfully well rid of the mare at £200 some short time back, as he did not like some of her symptoms. The acceptances out of the 62 Nursery entries fell three short of the 24 necessary for two classes, and Thör's top weight (8st. 12lbs.) could only be warranted by some suspicions as to the truth of his Monday's effort.

Wednesday was a thorough pour-down, and as we felt pretty sure that Habena would come in "hands down," and did not care to see any other race, we never stirred out the whole afternoon.

in

However, we strolled into the Marquis of Exeter's riding-school to see what was called his sale. The school is an oval, with a covered walk all round, of about 300 yards in extent; it is laid down with deep mould, quite soft, and almost deep enough to teach horses to go short as they canter slowly round it. The inside of the oval is planted with trees and flowers, and the horses walked down the centre walk to Mr. Tattersall, who erected his rostrum on a sloping grass-plot near a weeping willow. Scarcely forty attended, including Harlock, Norman, the Manns, &c., and only four out of the 26 lots were sold. Filbert was bought in for 150 guineas; one of the yearlings went for 10 guineas, and another by Flatcatcher for 290 guineas; while Mr. Villiers bought the Dandelion, leg and all, at 20 guineas, for a heath-hack. He was put in at 10 guineas, and Harlock (for Mr. Villiers) and a Norwich gent were and "out " amidst a good deal of amusement for the remainder of the time. This concluded the sale, and thus out of his 34 lots, his lordship only disposed of seven, making about £1,400 or £1,500 in all. Strood is thought dreadfully dear at 1,200 guineas, and a sad change from his fine stout brothers. Mr. Barrow, it is thought, has got Stockwell round at last; but he did so little work before the Whip, that it is very difficult to disbelieve Basham's assertion, that Kingston was winning easy when he broke down. The Hambleton stable had no notion of such a catastrophe, as the hard ground at Lincoln, Warwick, and Doncaster had made no impression on him whatever. His break-down was a very severe rupture of the off-hind pastern, and he has been under Mr. Barrow's care ever since he limped back from the heath. Seeing that he broke down Teddington and Weathergage last year, and himself this, owners would do well to eschew the Whip under such foolish conditions in future. Zinganee's is another of the "noble legs that gave way in it before Cadland. Kingston is far the finest son of Venison we have out, and when he is made up for a sire, he will be a perfect model. Sir Tatton Sykes made a standing offer of £2,000 for him, and it is also said that the Fairfield Paddock Company made a very much larger one; but Mr. Blenkiron won the day, and bought Exact as his fair mate. Tufthunter and John O'Gaunt were paraded up and down the street, the former bearing traces of quite as bad a break-down as Kingston's, while the latter was bought by Mr. Stebbings for 300 guineas, to bear Flatcatcher and Vatican company.

This party originally hired Indian Warrior, Gamekeeper, Knight of St. George, and another for the season, and purchased them from Mr. Disney at the end of it. The Knight, as is generally the case, was a very cheap yearling purchase to Mr. D., as he was only £45, and the dam £5 less. So much for the Houghton Wednesday, the first race-day that we ever spent in Newmarket, without going to the Heath.

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A brighter and pleasanter day than Thursday we never had there, but the first five races went for nothing, although the finish in Johnny Taft's race was a very spirited affair. Rosaline's and Dame Partlett's finish was a regular "roaring" match, the grey the worse of the two. This malady came suddenly on her, when she went amiss after York. Vindex was ridden about on the heath by one of Scott's lads in a plain saddle and bridle, and stood so quiet that his world-famed two-year-old temper seemed a mere myth. Old John Day declared with truth, that Oulston would not let the grass grow under his feet in the 50 Sovs. Stake, as he did in the Clearwell, and therefore Wells had orders to cut down everything from the start, which he most ably executed. Hazel was absolutely no where," and then a glorious struggle ensued for the Glasgow Stakes, which has twice produced a dead heat between three, and once shewn the world for the first time what a West Australian could do. "The Admiral" expected a very near thing between Pugnator and Claret, and he was right. Tynemouth was soon "all at sea," and Sam Rogers was next at work on the Duke's colt about 150 yards from home, but Nat just failed to reach him on the post. Believing Claret to be a game slow colt, we expected to see more use made of him, but Nat never used the whip, and rode him so tenderly to all appearance that we should fancy he was in difficulties early on, and required great nursing to bring him where he was. The idea of handicapping threeyear-olds before the Derby, for a Houghton Meeting Handicap, is so sagacious that it is no wonder that, like last year, only two ran. Job Marson (whose engagement to Mr. John Stanley is understood to have ceased at Doncaster, as they chose to lay the non-starting of such an ungenerous brute as Calamus on his head) wasted right loyally down to 7st. 8lbs. for his favourite stable, and mounted the "red spots on Ivan. The horse never looked better, and Job had the reward of his labour in a very clever win, as the running which was perforce made for the 10lbs. sake by the Physalis colt exactly suited him. Ivan, who will be a rare Cup horse next year, has six times run second for great races (about £8,000 in all) this year. In fact these "second horse" earnings amount to £420, while his winnings only reach £595. Distance is quite his forte; and Andover will be puzzled to give him 3lbs. over 2 miles at Stockbridge next year. The appearance of the great northern crack as a light weight astonished every one, as they had no earthly idea that he could take the mount, and then concluded that overweight had been declared. Nine years ago, he rode 7st. 7lbs. for Lord Eglinton on Quebec at Liverpool, but since then he has not ridden less than 7st. 9lbs., and that only at three meetings in the nine years. He seemed to be perfectly comfortable after his wasting, and rode the Beacon course through on Grapeshot in the next race, with all the ease and endurance of its great devotee, Frank Buckle, who came to exactly the same weight by a great effort, when he was 21 years Marson's senior. His Beacon-course horse, Grapeshot, was however so distressed under

8st 7lbs., that he bolted here, there, and everywhere over the course, when he was asked to finish. Poodle (7st. 3lbs.) received a year and 18lbs. from him and the Reiver, and made such slow, true running from end to end, that nothing could touch him. Ilex (8st. 5lbs.), who was one sea of lather, also rushed it so strong at the finish, that Rogers declared, as he unsaddled, that he never rode so game a horse. His effort was a worthy finish to our racing season, and slowly and sorrowfully we turned our faces home; and the first autumn hoar frost seemed to give note next morning, that Old 1854 thought the Turf had had enough.

Looking on the season as a whole, it has been below par. Matching at Newmarket has been at a decided discount, and both Ascot and Goodwood only held very middling anniversaries. Epsom had a strong Derby, but it still remains to be proved whether Andover is a great horse. The absence of the military was felt by no place more than Doncaster; but the £1,200 grant has so completely healed the breach, between the corporation and the racing world, and so strengthened the list, that the number of races and horses was considerably in advance of former years. It is lucky that it is so, as their fund will receive no accessions from a selling stake, which is under the Newmarket claiming rule; while to adopt any other rule, is unfortunately only productive of a series of pulls and sells, which all high class meetings are bound to discountenance. Their Cup race will, we are told, be probably tried next year on the new limited handicap system, and the St. Leger entries for 1857 kept back for six months, and closed along with the Derby and Oaks. The glories of Newton, the once favourite trysting place of the Lancashire witches, have departed at last; the Cheltenham racecourse is to be devoted to other purposes, and Manchester Autumn is said to have fallen through. Cheltenham we are not surprised at, as it is quite a close borough, but we did expect better things of Merrie Lancashire.

With the exception of Virago, there has been nothing of a very splendid calibre among the three-year-olds, and if West Australian had not given us a taste of his old quality, when at least 10lbs. below his Doncaster form at Ascot, the same might, bar Rataplan, be said of the fours. In the absence of one between him and Virago, we may perhaps look on that between Bonnie Morn and Rifleman as the crack contest of the season. King Tom's real merits are still hid, but we cannot help thinking, that although some chose to consider the Baron's scratching him a most desperate piece of patriotism, the horse had become a hopeless case sometime before he did so. Report says that he has a seton in the hock, and that The Baron has quite made up matters with his clever trainer, William King. Not in one single instance that we remember, has the judgment of Messrs. Johnson and Clarke been impugned this year, but the starting has hardly been up to touch either in the north and south, and Mr. Hibburd is by no means such a favourite with the jockeys as his father, whose discipline was conducted in a more good-humoured style. Sales have been wonderfully brisk, and many a year may pass by before three yearling colts fetch 1,000 guineas and upwards again, or before the old red fox in Tattersall's yard hears such outrageous biddings at a Royal Stud Sale. Ivan, at 1,000 guineas, is certainly the cheapest sale of the year, and we sadly wonder that Lord Zetland should have parted with him. Mr. Padwick would have made a rare hit if he

had bought him for £1,500 after he stretched Virago at York, as Well's riding would probably have pulled off the St. Leger. This gentleman's success and purchases have been the great point of the season, and if he has really bought Lord Exeter's yearlings, Old John will have a string of something like thirty in all next year. Lords Anglesea will help to make up the void left by Lord Exeter and the Duke of Richmond in the south, while some totally new names are to be found in the Doncaster Hopeful entries.

To judge from his splendid stables, Mr. Mare is determined to do the thing in earnest, and we can only hope that he is at last suited with a trainer. Queensbury House, too, which has long been a desolate ghoststricken object to the wayfarer as he enters Newmarket, will, it is said, be pulled down and totally rebuilt for Lord Henry Seymour, and our only wonder is that it has not been tenanted sooner, and made to resound with revelry as it did in the "Wales" and "old Q." times.

Death has been busy during the year, and "the blue and white stripes" of Mr. Meiklam will no longer, as of yore, be borne to the front at the finish for a great handicap. The still fresh turf that covers poor Sam Chifney, may be seen by any Brighton visitor, if his walk lies past Hove church-yard; and we bitterly regret to hear that the Thornhill annuity did not survive to his wife. Bob Heseltine also, of Curè and Alice Hawthorn memory has gone, and poor Will Beresford rests at Newmarket, side-by-side with Connolly.

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On the Lawley business we have no wish to dwell, further than to remark the inveterate jealousy with which nonsporting men regard the success of racing-men in any other sphere. In fact, they seem to consider that they have no right to have opinions, or to take a part in anything else but racing. They would gladly ignore the fact that the greatest diplomatist and the finest orator of the age are devoted to the sport; and that if Charles Fox were alive, he would have been regularly fined every Newmarket afternoon, if he had persisted in his old trick of riding in with the horses. To think, too, that Lord George should lead the Opposition, and yet mourn over the loss of the Epsom blue ribbon" in Bellamy's to Mr. Disraeli, was a bitter morsel; and no wonder then that the whole pack opened so bitterly onto Mr. Lawley, not half so much for his fatal error, but simply because he was a turfite. The Acrobat business seemed completely to puzzle them, and The Spectator gravely touched on it in an article, which made Ivan the winner of the St. Leger, and was (owing to the writer's spirited but impotent effort to deal with racing terms) scarcely English. The subject has quite died away, and really the Admiral was as completely defeated over it, as he was in his Doncaster controversy with Mr. Hatfield, some four years back. Still, as we expressed the floating notions of the public with no little freedom last month, we are, of course, bound in common justice to repeat the denials on authority which that ablest of sporting feuilletonistes, ARGUS, has put forward. They are to the effect, that Lord Derby stood to win nearly equal sums on his three horses; that Boiardo cleverly defeated Acrobat in his trials both last year and this; that Dervish almost lost Acrobat in their Derby trial; that Lord Derby gave all the St. Leger orders to the jockeys himself, and directed the pace to be made very strong, in the hopes that The Knight would run a jade; and that Crown-Pigeon, not Acrobat, was the horse which galloped after the races on the Thursday. It is difficult to understand how the Acrobat

office should ever have oozed out if Boiardo had been Acrobat's master last year, and surely the trial of Dervish before the Derby must have been a sheeted one, or else it is akin to a miracle that a horse who had so thoroughly impressed his jockey with the belief that he was a currish two-year-old, should have shed his nature so completely on that occasion. That Boiardo won the last trial there is no doubt, and that being so, the whole thing would seem to resolve itself into an error on the part of Lord Derby, in not declaring to win with him. Knowing, too, how ill-suited the hard ground was to Boiardo's bandaged legs, it is an equal pity that he did not hire some horse who could make the running to a further point than Dervish was able to do, and keep Acrobat on the waiting system, in case Boiardo failed or broke down in his effort to get up. The only way to lay such serious accusations as were made, and to put the rioters to shame, was to take them up spiritedly; and it is well for the interests of the turf that Lord Derby and John Scott acted as they did. Ivan and Acrobat are under the same stable roof now, and their exciting rivalry is at an end. And here too end our turf labours for this memorable "Acrobat year."

ERNEST ATHERLEY;

OR, SCENES AT HOME AND ABROAD.

BY LORD WILLIAM LENNOX.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Extracts from my Journal in Canada continued-Winter Sledging-Private Theatricals.

No sooner had the winter set in, than we had some excellent snipe shooting; and did I not fear to lay myself open to a comment upon the Munchausen propensities of travellers, I would mention the result of a week's sport. It was, without drawing a long bow, beyond any I had ever heard of in Europe. Early in October the St. Laurence was completely frozen over, and sledging commenced. We established a driving club, called the Q.D.C., meaning Quebec Driving Club, though the wags interpreted it "Quam Deus conservat." We met once a week in the square opposite the Château, and having appointed a president and vice-president for the day, started in procession, the former leading, the latter bringing up the rear. After parading the principal streets, we proceeded some few miles into the country, where we enjoyed a picnic luncheon-nay, sometimes a dinner and a ball, returning by torchlight. In Canada, the ladies of the creation think nothing of taking a seat in the sledge of a bachelor, although to drive with him on wheels during the summer would be deemed an outrage on the usages of society. This club gave rise to a great many squibs and caricatures. I remember the beginning of a long epic poem, which, as a specimen of NorthAmerican versification, I lay before my readers: