A THOROUGH-BRED STALLION, THE PROPERTY OF MR. W. GULLIVER, OF SWALCLIFFE, BANBURY. ENGRAVED BY E. HACKER, FROM A PAINTING BY E. CORBET, BY CASTOR. Big Ben, bred by Mr. Saxon in 1858, is by Ethelbert out of Phoebe, by Touchstone, her dam Netherton Maid by Sheet Anchor-by Tantivy Myrtilla, by The Flyer. Ethelbert, bred by Sir Charles Rushout in 1850, was by Faugh-aBallagh out of Espoir, by Liverpool. He was a very fair race-horse at three years old, and we have a keen recollection of the chesnut stretching himself out to beat the Newmarket mare, Pancake, in their deciding heat for the City and Sabu: ban. When put to the stud Ethelbert furnished in a really magnificent horse, and Mr. Gulliver entered him for the first hundred ever offered, at the Great Horse and Hound Show in Yorkshire in 1860; but Ethelbert did not put in an appearance, or he must have stood in amongst those distinguished by the judges. However, the foreigners could not afford to let a nag of this stamp escape them, and Ethelbert was accordingly shipped for Prussia in 1861, where he died in 1864. He was clearly a loss to this country, having during his few seasons at the stud proved his quality by such runners as Big Ben, one of the first of his get out, Conqueror, Dreadnought, King of Kent, Ethel, Hengist, Isca, Isoline, Anglo-Saxon, Prosperity, Tennyson, and many other winners. Phoebe, bred by Captain Archdale in 1850, never ran, but went into Mr. Lily's stud at three years old, and is the dam of Little Emma by Newcourt, Annie by Archy, Little Dick (cut) by Ethelbert, Big Ben, Jerry by Sweetmeat, Anna by Idle Boy, a colt by Loup Garou, and put to the same horse again. The mare is still in Mr. Saxon's possession, who purchased her of Mr. Gulliver, with Little Dick at her side, and in foal with Big Ben. Big Ben is a beautiful dark-brown horse, standing over sixteen hands high. He has a good neat head and strong neck, set on to very high withers, with exceedingly deep well-laid shoulders. He has a capital middle, a short strong back, and really model quarters, of immense power without coarseness. He has unexceptionable hocks, with a famous set of limbs, well under him, and that would promise to serve him, as no doubt they often have done, at a moment's notice, for it is seldom that so big a horse is to be found so quick on his legs. Big Ben is further blessed with a fine temper, and what with his size, power, and blood-like character, is a very grand specimen of the thorough-bred one at the stud. Big Ben first appeared in 1860, when as a two-year-old and ridden by the late Luke Snowden at 8st. 71b., he showed in Mr. Saxon's green and gold jacket for the Tyro Stakes for two-year-olds, T. Y.C, at Liverpool Spring Meeting, and where he ran second to Mr. Hind's Lady Clifden, 8st. 2lb., with Mr. Merry's Dundee 8st. 71b. third, Lord Stamford's Little Lady 8st. 5lb. fourth, and nine others not placed; 2 to 1 against Dundee, and Big Ben not mentioned: won by a neck, with the same between the second, third, and fourth. At Northampton, ridden by Luke Snowden, he was not placed for the Althorp Park Stakes; half a mile; won by Lord Stamford's Walloon : 4 to 1 against Big Ben. At Newmarket First Spring Meeting, ridden by Luke Snowden at 8st. 7lb., he won the Newmarket Two Year-Old Plate of 200 sov.; last five furlongs of R. M., beating Lord Stamford's Walloon, 8st. 121b. (2); Sir J. Hawley's Polyolbion, 8st. 5lb. (3); Mr. Barber's Sawcutter, 8st. 71b.; Mr. Barber's Rose, 8st. 5lb.; Mr. Boyce's Bryan O'Linn, 8st. 71b.; Captain Brabazon's Touch-Me-Not, 8st. 5lb.; Lord Clifden's Rose of Cashmere colt, 8st. 71b.; Lord Clifden's New Forest Deer colt, Sst. 71b.; Mr. Crawford's Captain Fortibus, 8st. 7lb.; Mr. Fleming's Nemesis, 8st. 5lb.; Mr. Gibbs' Morella, 8st. 5lb.; Mr. Gratwicke's My Lady, 8st. 5lb.; Mr. Jones' Eastern Princess, 8st. 5lb.; Captain Little's Epilogue colt, 8st. 71b.; Colonel Pearson's Rouge Dragon, 8st. 7lb.; Mr. Price's Scandal colt, 8st. 71b.; Mr. Rogers' Blisworth, 8st. 7lb.; Baron Rothschild's Queen of the Vale, 8st. 5lb.; Baron Rothschild's Seesaw, 8st. 71b.; Mr. Savile's Sister to Roesia, 8st. 5lb.; Lord Stamford's Hawk's-Eye, 8st. 71b.; and Lord Strathmore's The Sage, 8st. 71b. 4 to 1 against Big Ben, who won by two lengths. At Chester, ridden by Luke Snowden at 8st. 12lb., he won the Mostyn Stakes for two-year-olds, three-quarters of a mile : beating Mr. Thomas' Dictator, 8st. 7lb. (2); Mr. Parr's Kildonan, 8st. 7lb. (3); Mr. Merry's Folkestone, 8st. 121b. (4); Mr. Jackson's Longshot, 8st. 71b. (5); and Mr. Windsor's Flirtation, 8st. 71b.: 7 to 4 on Big Ben, who won by a length. During the same Meeting he walked over for a Biennial Produce Stakes, T.Y.C., and divided the forfeits for the Wirral Stakes, half-a-mile, with Mr. Naylor's Canary. At the Bath and Somerset County Meeting, ridden by Luke Snowden, at 8st. 7lb., he won a Biennial Stake for two-year-olds; half-a-mile; beating Mr. Parker's Damascus, 8st. 10lb. (2); Lord Strathmore's Shillelagh, 8st. 101b. (3); Mr. Osbaldeston's Camerino, 8st. 10lb. (4); Mr. Merrifield's Overton, 8st. 10lb. (5); Mr. Capel's Bandit, 8st. 7lb. (6); and Mr. G. W. Fitzwilliam's Bohemienne colt, Sst. 10lb.: 7 to 4 on Big Ben, who won by a head; a bad third. At the same Meeting, ridden by Luke Snowden, at 8st. 12lb., he won the Western Stakes, half-amile; beating Mr. Cartwright's Fairwater, 8st. 4lb. (2); Lord Chesterfield's Jacintha, 8st. 4lb. (3); Mr. J. Smith's Vancouver, 8st. 10lb. (4); Mr. Drummond's Mellona, 8st. 71b.; Lord Strathmore's Shillelagh, 8st. 10lb.; Mr. W. Day's Arabia, 8st. 4lb.; and Mr. Goater's Whitelegs, 8st. 5lb.: even on Big Ben, who won by half a length. At Hungerford, ridden by Luke Snowden, at 9st. 1lb., he ran second to Mr. Fuller's Mountebank, 8st. 10lb., for the Wild Dayrell Two-YearOld Stake; five furlongs. Lord Ailesbury's Wild Dayrell colt also started, and with Big Ben ran out at the first turn. At Ascot, ridden by Luke Snowden, he ran third to Baron Rothschild's Queen of the Vale in a field of five, for the Fern Hill Stakes, for two and threeyear-olds half-a-mile: 5 to 2 against Big Ben. At Stockbridge, ridden by Luke Snowden at 8st. 7lb., he was not placed in a field of fouren for a Biennial Two-Year-Old Stake; five furlongs; won by Lord Clifden's Cynic, 8st. 71b.: 2 to 1 against Big Ben. At Abingdon, he walked over for a Two-Year-Old Stake; three-quarters of a mile; and at Goodwood, ridden by Luke Snowden at 8st. 71b., he finished fourth in a field of six for the Bentinck Memorial Stakes, T.Y.C: won by Mr, Howard's Vergiss-mein-nicht, 8st. 4lb. 6 to 4 against Big Ben. In 1861, as a three-year old, Big Ben at Newmarket First Spring Meeting, ridden by Luke Snowden at Sst. 3lb., beat Mr. H. Lowther's Zingaro, 8st. 71b., by a neck for a Three-Year-Old Stake, A.F.: 5 to 2 on Big Ben. At Ascot, ridden by Luke Snowden at 8st. 11b, he beat Mr. Snewing's Cashio, 8st. 3lb., by six lengths, for a Three-YearOld Stake over the Swinley course: 5 to 4 on Big Ben. SUMMARY OF BIG BEN'S PERFORMANCES. In 1860, he started 13 times, won 6, and divided 1: A Plate at Newmarket-value clear A Biennial Produce Stake, at Chester The Weston Stakes, at Bath A Two-Year-Old Stake, at Abingdon In 1861, he started twice and won twice: A Sweepstakes, at Newmarket...... A Sweepstakes, at Ascot ..... £200 230 600 10 530 410 35 250 150 £2,415 It will be seen that during his career Big Ben beat some of the best horses of his day, such as Dundee, Fairwater, Walloon, Little Lady, Nemesis, Queen of the Vale, Kildonan, Folkstone, and Camerino. Big Ben stood at Swaleliffe, where he still continues, for the season of 1862, and his yearlings were sold by Messrs. Tattersall at Stockwell, in the week after last year's Derby, and where we thus wrote of them: "The first of the Big Bens was moderate enough, and with no action made no impression; but not so her half-sister out of Ada, one of the biggest and all-over one of the finest and cleverest yearlings ever seen. With beautiful shoulders and full of liberty, a good head and neck, plenty of length and lots of bone, our only fear would be that this mare might overgrow herself, as many of the great yearlings have done ere now. At present, however, if ever an unengaged young one was worth as much, she is not over-marked at 700 guineas." Another very fine sample of the Big Bens was to be seen at the New Tattersall's last week, in three or four well-grown stylish yearlings with beautifully laid shoulders, capital backs, and a very happy combination of substance and quality. The only regret experienced was, that Mr. Gulliver had not more to show of them, but luck of late has been terribly against him. In that memorable thunder-storm which visited Swalcliffe in the August of last year, three foals were killed and five others were so much injured that they could never be reared; such losses being emphasized by the deaths of two of the mares. One of these, moreover, Redemption, was the pride of the stud, her yearling colt at the sale in 1864 having realised the top price of 710 guineas, and her yearling of this season's show 400 gs. Then, more recently, an own brother to the Ada filly, that we have already referred to as making 700 gs., got pricked and is still on the invalid list at home, together with one by Neville out of Sneeze, that injured himself in jumping a gate. Thus ten of the yearlings for the Swalcliffe sale of 1865 have been put out either by death or some only less serious accident, while as amongst them were some of the most taking of the lot the loss is proportionately great. It will be gathered that Mr. Gulliver has a large breeding stud at Swalcliffe, where, beyond Big Ben he has also the stallions Neville and Grimston, the former of which took "the Royal hundred' at Worcester as the best thorough-bred horse for getting sound and stout stock. Mr. Gulliver also farms largely, and though with only one arm (having lost the other early in life from an accident when shooting), is a known good man over a country. Ile has lately refused a long price for Big Ben from the foreigners, and, with the keen eye he clearly has for quality and symmetry, has only to wait for a little better luck to make his mark as a breeder of race-horses. DICK TURPIN AND BY EDWIN EDDISON. HIS HORSE. CHAPTER II.-MY FRIEND. I walked leisurely, and it was past seven in the evening when I reached a straggling village, the houses of which were mostly of lath and plaster, with straw-thatched roofs and diamond-paned windows. Here and there were however intermingled a few pretty rustic cottages built in more modern and model fashion, and adorned with early spring flowers and creepers. A small stream ran through the middle of the village, and passed under a bridge, murmuring as it went. Over the bridge I passed, observing as I did so the rustics lounging at their doorsteps, or working in their little plots of garden ground. Children too were paddling in little ponds, or playing at coach and horses. Here was a stray pig, there a dissipated duck or goose that had not yet retired to rest, here a hen ascending a ladder to her roost with a subdued cackling that harmonised with the quiet of the time and scene. How the loved and well-remembered days of my boyhood and childhood rose up before me ! There too was the church and its tapering spire, the familiar yew, the linden trees, the quiet green mounds of the fathers of the hamlet who had for ever passed away, their work here being done. At the end of the village at the distance of some five or six hundred yards could be discerned a red brick mansion, its sides partly covered with ivy, and approached through an avenue of chesnut trees, and sheltered by some noble specimens of elm and beech, in which latter was a small colony of rooks. This I conjectured was the home of my friend Singleline (for did I not say that was his name?) and an answer of a rustic confirmed the conjecture. "Yees, zur, Squire Singleline' (how strangely the squire sounded in my ears when I thought of the poverty of his youth!) "do live up at t' hall yonder." Reader, you have seen such an English village! The hall of the squire, the church with its to pering spire, the rustic cottages, the rustics themselves, the playful children, the foldyard with its occupants, cattle, horses, pigs, fowls. You have heard on the sabbath day the church bells making the echoes beautiful with their melodies, as they pealed out an invitation to the simple hearers to come and supplicate and praise their God. You have seen the villagers wending their way to church, and then disappearing through the humble porch. And such scenes may have impressed you with a sense of the peace and simplicity of an English village, the happiness and absence of grosser cares that dwelt in the hearts and around the hearths and homes of the country rustics. If you have, you will understand the feelings I am about to allude to. At the time I speak of, I was a staid, sober, and sedate citizen. My wild oats were all or nearly all sown. Riot and revelry had no charm for me then; indeed so far had they lost interest to me, that I had almost at times been tempted to be merciless and unforgiving to those whose youth led them to indulge as I in the days of my warm passions and instincts had been led to indulge. But must I confess that, although I had been, as I have said, as things went, a steady going boy and youth, yet I had not always been steady? There had been times in my apprenticeship when I have, after a night's debauch, returned home. with flushed cheeks, aching brow, and weary eyes, as the beautiful morning sun was lighting up the grey spire or tower of the church of St. Clement Danes or Bow, when few people were astir in the great city, and it has been at such times that I have thought of my native village. I have thought that the early labourers were off to their work, mind and body rested, inhaling the pure country air, singing as they went along, and little thinking of the dissipated and to-be-pitied beings like myself, who were skulking to a feverish bed with the certainty of awaking about mid-day or in the afternoon with parched throat and tongue, and with the feeling that they have made fools of themselves, if not worse. At such times you and I, reader, have thought of the simp'e and innocent village scene, and wished we were there, and with like feelings to those enjoyed by the careless hind. We have truly felt and appreciated the atmosphere of peace and content that surrounds like a glory our sweet country homes. Then have we felt the torture and the selfreproach that dissipation ever brings. I walked up the avenue, admiring the while the fine old trees, and discovered my friend in a courtyard talking to a gardener. The noise of my approaching steps arrested his attention, and turning round with a scrutinising and, I must add, more "masterful" air than I had once been accustomed to see him assume, he recognised me. Then with a quick step that reminded me of old times he advanced, and, extending his hand, grasped it with the fervency of yore, and it seemed (perhaps to him as well as myself) as if the time that intervened since our youthful days had rolled back, and those days were again before us with all their magic and their charms. If so, mutual glances soon dispelled the illusion: youthful traces had left his face, and my grey locks and the lines that thoughts and cares of business had implanted were too apparent to be long unnoticed. We held each other's hand for a time, and |