off upon "the square" seemed by no means a common conclusion. The versions of the plot are legion. That it was put on the scene under the auspices of a most able management was generally agreed. "All the arrangements, it was asserted, had been made by parties eminent in their profession. I leave the problem, however, untouched: it needs more skill than I possess to resolve the quadrature of the circle. The settling, I learnt from a very competent authority, was a bitter bad one, My allusion to the arrangements, so far as relates to their good properties, includes the princely preparations in and about the Grand Stand. Since that establishment came under the direction of Mr. Henry Dorling, the present lessee, it has attained the position to which it was entitled, both by local causes, and from its being the centre of the greatest issue of the turf. It is a palatial racing pavilion, replete with all that the best taste could supply, or the most fastidious require.

Next in succession was Newton, "proximus-sed intervallo." There are few prettier sites for a provincial course, and none, as times go, more appropriate. Midway between Manchester and Liverpool it is set, as it were, for a betting 'Change. However, the last anniversary was not so good as its late predecessors. I can but speak in the merest epitome of the events to which it gave existence. The Golborne Stakes, for two-year-olds were won by Sister to Wanota cleverly, by a length, in a field of four. The Gold Cup brought half a dozen to the post, of which Duxbury was the best, beating Champion by half a length. The St. Leger, of its fourteen nominations, had seven starters. The winner was that downright steed of all work, "The Knight of Gwynne," who is at every thing, from the Derby to "a dirty half hundred." The Borough Cup, of 200 sovs. specie, with a Handicap Sweepstakes of 20 sovs. each, &c., &c., 29 subscribers, was run for by half adozen. Achyrantes, three years old, carrying 5st. 4lbs., won, beating Champion by half a length. What strange Cup weights there were for this affair, the highest being 7st. 9lbs.! Looking at the materials in the list, three days seemed a long space over which to spread their interest. While these things were going on in the country, the metropolis was enlivened by a little episode, thus related in a Sunday newspaper :—

"Several military and sporting gentlemen attended at the police office, Rochesterrow, Westminster, on Wednesday, the 5th ult., anxious to hear the result of a summons taken out by Mr. Thomas Lee, of Leeds, a sporting solicitor, against Mr. Mahon, for threatening to horse-whip and strike the said Thomas Lee, and using language to induce him to commit a breach of the peace. Mr. Sergeant Wilkins was retained for Mr. Mahon, and it was expected some disclosures would have taken place calculated to question the character and general conduct of a certain party, and also to revive some unpleasant recollections associated with a gentleman who went on the Leger of 1847, and whose conduct gave rise to the present proceedings. The worthy magistrate expressed his surprise that Mr. Lee and his witnesses were not in

attendance, and adjourned the summons sine die, when, on leaving the court, Mr. Mahon and his solicitor were met by Mr. Lee's solicitor, who withdrew the summons without offering explanation."

The Royal Meeting on Ascot Heath commenced on Tuesday, the 11th ult., running till the Friday following inclusive, as usual. The Court was at Osborne, and the races were not honoured by the presence of Her Majesty, or any of the august party. As some set off, however, against the want of excitement produced by the loss of the regal pageant, there was a row got up between Mr. Glen, the sporting baker of Regentstreet, and Mr. William Treen, the trainer of Berkhampton. This has been dealt with elsewhere, so we will proceed to the proper business of the course. The weather was very propitious-sunshine and zephyrs wafting themselves about in perfume. But the accustomed gala character of the festival was missed. You didn't see the Vase where it used to be-in front of the Steward's Stand. You didn't see companies of "fine women and brave men" promenading as they used to do, up and down the running ground in front of the Stands. Centralization was the order of the day. Persons of account sheltered themselves within the precincts of the Grand Stand, from the hordes of lawless, shameless scoundrels that prowled about the site set apart for reception of the equipages, once the pomp and circumstance of Ascot races. There was deportment on the heath, and there was language blasting its pleasant paths, by no means suited to eyes or ears polite, or in any condition of civilization.

The sport opened selon les règles with the Trial Stakes. It was a bad beginning-no pace-winner, Mr. William Stebbings' Flatcatcher; formerly Green's ditto. A Sweepstakes of 50 sovs. each, for two-yearolds. Of the seven entered, three ran-winner, Lord Chesterfield's nomination, Brother to Drakelow. It was understood this youngster was the property of a gentleman whose name is as yet unfamiliar with the pages of the Racing Calendar. The Ascot Derby drew half-a-dozen of the seventeen subscribed to the post. Ghillie Callum was fancied by the ring at 6 to 4 against him, the Concertina colt being at 2 to 1: the latter won in a canter by two lengths, the favourite being just able to hobble back to scale without coming bodily to the ground. It was a disagreeable affair for the spectator, from one end to the other. The Ascot Stakes, 112 subs., had nine of this multitude at the post. Wherefore Damask did not show we have elsewhere shown-why the race was thrown away, as it undoubtedly was, is beyond our "philosophy." Vampyre and Wanota were at 3 to 1 each, the others at double and quadruple the odds. Wanota made the greater portion of the running, and Vampyre waited-till too late. He made his effort only when abreast the Stand, and was first in the stride after that in which he and

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Wanota together cleared the post. Job Marson rode Wanota. Job is in his run of luck. What is luck? A remarkably pleasant thing, as you would feel satisfied after throwing in a baker's dozen of mains for good stakes. The Gold Vase, the especial trophy of the opening day, had six of the eight nominations for starters. It matters little who waited at the beginning or who went-Mildew was last. At the turn into the straight ground he closed his horses-at the distance he passed them as an express train on the Great Western might be supposed to pass a donkey what wouldn't go," and won in a canter-Officious second. Thus did it befall the Mildew at Ascot, who, at Epsom, "roared" like the Bulls of Bashan. The Third Year of the First Ascot Triennial Foal Stakes, 65 subscribers; half-a-dozen to go. For thisweight for age-they fancied Mounseer, because in a handicap at about a stone lower average, he won the Chester Cup. Vatican, who gave a world of trouble in getting him off, at last got under way-last. The obstreperous one mended his pace by slow degrees, and after a sharp finish with Elthiron just contrived to be first by the chair half a length: a sad tailing of the scabies. The Welcome Stakes, with a little volume of conditions, for three-year-olds, paraded another half-dozen. The issue was a pretty run bome with The Countess, The Swede, and Utrecht, ending in the order in which they are placed. The First Year of the Second Ascot Triennial Stakes, 51 subs. For this the best field of the day assembled. Fourteen came to the post-no "scratch" conglomeration, but quite a comme il faut ensemble. How they betted about such a lot we cannot spare space to record-enough that after a well-ridden race Lord J. Scott's Miserima won by a couple of lengths. Lord Exeter's Cora having walked over for a 50 sovs. Sweepstakes, the list was run out.

Wednesday drew together a company consisting for the most part of the Californian sort-people whose office it is to pick up gold, if they can find any; at all events, sink or swim, to have a shy for it. Business began with The Coronation Stakes, for three-year-old fillies. There were a dozen subscriptions, and one-fourth of the lot" showed." Tiff, that " ought" to have been "there or thereabouts," was last-the Exotic filly beating Clelia by a neck. The Windsor Town Plate mustered eleven runners, at all manner of prices in the market. The winner was Mr. Hughes's filly by Cowl out of Celandine-a two-year-old smart enough to command his Grace of Richmond's claim, which was some time afterwards foregone. A trio ran for the Queen's Plate-won by Capt. Lowther's The Gent, by the Nob-pace bad. The Windsor Stakes, for three-year-olds, was a dead letter in the ring, the odds being 5 to 4 on Cariboo. The result was a dead heat between the favourite and Thistledown; whereupon the pair divided the stakes, and the layers

of the odds paid the piper. The Royal Hunt Cup-the feature of this "off" day-gathered together a host to the melody of two-and-twenty. A squadron of these was backed-Mildew being the favourite at 9 to 2 against him. The moment the flag fell, however, Hagley burst away through Thick and thin, was never caught, and won in a canter by two lengths. You should have heard what was said about Mildew, who was "nowhere."

"The Vase," says Snookem Snivey, the "Manchester man," to Needles, the "Boughton felly" (Anglicé, the Bolton fellow), "The Vase warnt no race at all-a hass could a' gin any on 'em a licking, and carried the Bargeman"...

“Mildew," observes slippery Slope, who stood a good thing about Pitsford for the Derby, "Mildew, d'ye see, aint altogether, you know— jigger me! d'ye take? How many sides is there to a 'orse? there's two, aint there, any how? Here's one," indieating its position with the forefinger of his left hand pointing rearwards immediately below his right ear; “and here's another," the situation of which he expresses by a convulsive action of his right thumb, directed backwards over his left shoulder-" that's the ticket, beggar my old boots !"...

The Fernhill Stakes, 13 subs., and three runners, Mr. Ford won with his Receipt filly, since called-more characteristically than equestrian nomenclature generally rules-Payment. Whirl walked over for a 40 sovs. Sweepstakes for three-year-olds, and the catalogue reached finis.

The Ascot Cup day ranks, in modern Olympics, next to the anniversary of the Derby. With a brace of great "lines," having their embouchures almost on the heath, added to the accustomed road-trafficless influenced by steam, perhaps, than anywhere else the character of the attendance, as novelists have it when they are in a dilemma, "may be more easily imagined than described." The day was red-hot; the dust flew like a simoom; the course was such a sight as might be the Valley of Roses put in motion by some enchanter. Everybody was there but the Queen and her Royal Consort. Her Majesty

" is all for the sea-service."

“Here,

Water and the Cup-day! What say you to an ice? waiter bring me Wenham Lake, with a tankard of champagne cup in the middle. Nothing shall squeeze business into me or out of me this sainted day!"

"How d'ye do? You'll be at the Opera to-night ?-now, pray !” “Ah, wretch! Where's the bouquet fresh from Paradise you promised me? Remember! bring it to the French play on Friday."

asal You'll come to our little dejeuner on Saturday? I'll sing you that love from the " Tempesta"" La, lira, lira, la !"...

"That cruel bell

Brings back reality, and breaks the spell."

Have we nerves for eight races? "I tremble while I scribble, pon my soul !" Pooh, pooh! don't bother me about the Dutchman !'h

"My love is like the red, red rose."

"Get out of the course, there! here's Officious cantering over for the Windsor Forest Stakes!"

A Sweepstakes of 50 sovs. each, for three-year-olds, 25 subscribers, brought half-a-dozen to the post. Longinus was the pick of the ring, at 6 to 4 against him; but Cariboo won almost as he pleased by a length. The Visitors' Plate-handicap only induced five to try their luck; and of these Fernhill was the chosen, at 5 to 2 versus. He kept the promise to the hope, winning cleverly by a length. And now cometh a real event of the occasion a race to decide the sporting question, "Which is the best horse in the world?". Five were found to dispute it; subject, "A Piece of Plate, value 500 sovs., the gift of His Majesty the Emperor of all the Russias." The champions were The Flying Dutchman, Jericho, Canezou, Little Jack, and Peep-o'-day Boy. The last betting was 7 to 4 on the Dutchman, 2 to 1 against Canezou, 7 to 1 against Peep-o'-day Boy, 20 to 1 against Jericho, and 50 to 1 against Little Jack. After the usual parade, they went off, the Irish horse making running; et voilà tout. Presently the mare took it up; but when the fulness of time was come, Marlow, letting out a reef, shot past the fleet, and won, in a canter, by eight lengths. I have little doubt that, on the clay, and with the field in its then form, he could have distanced the lot. That it makes The Dutchman "the best horse that ever ran,'' as the cry rose, is another affair. With Canezou beaten by ancient Jericho, it is but fair to conclude none of the party were fliers," save and except the winner. "The form of

Lord Eglinton's horse is better than Eclipse's"-so said some folks with the reputation of good judges. What was Eclipse's form? What his performances were I propose showing at some convenient opportunity. The St. James's Palace Stakes, a dozen nominations, produced five runners. Virago was the best esteemed, her price being 5 to 2 A fine race home made Nutcracker the winner, beating Servius by a neek. The New Stakes-the two-year-old race of the meeting-out of 47 subscriptions, had a field of eleven. 5 to 2 against Citadel. The favourite won easily by a couple of lengths. Had Bolingbroke only disposed of his duty as cleverly, Mr. Payne would have had no reason to quarrel with dame Fortune. The Stand Plate Radulphus carried off, in a scurry among nine; and at six P.M., “ Home!" was the order of March, or rather of route; for, as old Matthews used to chaunt,

"Order and sobriety were dos-à-dos.”

Friday, at Ascot, has always an eminently fag-endish look. The mise en scene is in dishabille, and the actors are fagged. We will not detain you long over the relics of the feast. A Sweepstakes of 50 sovs. each, for three-year-olds, Sir Gilbert Heathcote won with his colt by