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is busy once more at his farm-yard groups, one of them consisting of a pair of pigs, which its owner intends as a birthday present for the heir-apparent to the throne of Hanover. Honest Ben Eddison, a regular Yorkshire, or rather a Nottinghamshire worthy, will see no more St. Legers, and get no more put up to a good thing by his old friend

John Scott,

whom he knew from his very boyhood, when he and his brother Will came from Croft's with Filhoda-Puta, to train for Mr. Houldsworth at Sherwood Forest. Of late years Ben seldom showed, except at York and Doncaster, and cared more for farming and local affairs at Worksop. John Cosser was one of his most favourite horses latterly, and one of his most uncertain was The Ruler, for whom George Francis wasted to 5st. 10lb. Joz. in the Cesarewitch, and then left off, quite unable to reach the 5st. 9lb. The last time we saw him was at Doncaster, the evening before the St. Leger, in the clerk-of-the-course's office. He was having a comfortable nap on the sofa, and when he awoke, he told us he had dreamt about the St. Leger, and Rotherham had won. Tom Carter also paid his last visit that year, and his old master, who is 14 years his senior, will sadly miss his company when he again takes horse for Doncaster. He was quite the incarnation of the stalwart Yorkshire huntsman, and he derived his science from his father, who was entered at under Hugo Meynell. Five years more will make many a sad gap among the old school of Yorkshiremen, who have fallen fast and thick during the last two years, leaving Sir Tatton and Mr. Kirby all alone.

The meeting at Newton recalled not a few Palmer recollections. The night of June 13th, 1856, the last ever passed on earth, had been spent very differently at Newton a year before. Lurley had won the Gold Cup for him, and he was, as it turned out, looking forward with no misplaced confidence to winning the great handicap with him next day. This year Madame Clicquot was great at this Lancashire Witch (alas, that they should ever grow old !) festival. On the first day she received 5lbs. from Saunterer, and beat him cleverly; on the next day, over her favourite half-mile, Remedy met her at equal weights, and beat her cleverly ; and, over the same course next day, she revenged herself by beating Saunterer at even weights. Not a senior jockey was at the meeting ; G. Oates was, in fact, the patriarch; and really, if Messrs. Topham and Johnston persist in weighting in handicaps no higher than 8st. 71b., stewards of races ought to intimate a very decided opinion. The heavy-weight jockey gets sacrificed to the rivalry as to who will get the largest number of acceptances, and not the slightest notice is taken in the North of the new “raising rule." Aladdin at Newton proved the old lamp which E. Parr, emulous of his brother Tom, has burnished up, and not a few winners of the week went down before him in the Great Newton Handicap.

Hampton races witnessed a tournament between two cracks this year, such as seldom falls to its lot, and great was the commotion when Commotion, the 2,500-guineas steed, was chopped down like a hack. Lord Nelson was no good at all, although Mr. Barber intimated that he would win with him if he could, and some people (though we doubt it) begin to think that if Tournament (who was bought for 180 gs. at Doncaster last September Meeting) had not had his head reversed when the flag dropped at Harpenden, the result might have been foreshadowed. Winkfield gave Redemption 19lbs., and won the Stakes, for which “Ben” had come special to ride him like a race-horse. Although this son of Alarm is anything but a big-'un, either in size or bone, he is very good-looking and blood-like, and almost Arab-like in his high-bred forehand and nostril. The innkeepers had four heats for their 30 sovs. plate, which wound up the first day; and though Hampton was true to it self and its motley scenes on the second, and the last roysterer hardly got home till midnight, there was no racing to care for but the defeat of Astrologus by Sirocco, who was claimed for £500 by William Day. This Queen's Plate proviso was first applied here after Rockingham walked off with the guineas. Moulsey Hurst is an odd place to learn racing tactics from ; but raise the claim to £700 or £800, and it might be adopted with propriety at many a meeting. We must not, however, forget to mention that Cantrip, the winner of the Railway Plate, to use the curt resumé of the The Field, "ran away before starting and after winning. She was entered to be sold for £100; gave weight to every other in the race; won in a canter; would not be stopped till the boy tumbled himself off rather than go a steeplechasing; was sold for £210; and added £110 to the race-fund.”

The Newcastle meeting had an unlucky northern Derby, as King of the Gypsies bolted, and Warlock, not content with following his example, rolled with Templeman into a ditch, from which both happily emerged without injury. It is rather odd that when Frank Butler rode Leopold for this race in 1852, he bolted, and that in 1846 Dolo was the only one out of four who kept on his legs. Artillery's victory here says little for the chances of a Doncaster one. Blink Bonny pursued her winning way amidst a wretched field, and the orange jacket of Mr. Morris was twice more in the ascendant on the first day. Zeta won her race very cleverly for the Northumberland Plate, which was a good turn-up for George Abdale (whose victory delighted Richmond to the last degree), the very best private trainer by many chalks that Lord Zetland ever had. Out of the ten that went for the Northumberland Plate in which Warlock tumbled again), the heaviest weight was not more than 7st. 21b.! Heir of Linne, a regular distance glutton, carried off the Cup and Guineas, Yorkshire Grey and King of the Gypsies finishing head and head with him. Zeta made very short work of T'illy and two others in the Gateshead Stakes, and William Abdale, who now resides at Richmond, was in the “red spots." Bibury Club is a mere foil to the Stockbridge meeting, as the gentlemen-riders muster in no force. Still, there was a very fine two-year-old finish between Glen Masson and Tam o'Shanter, Sam Rogers officiating on the former. We hold that the Stockbridge meeting is the pleasantest day of the year ; and this was its very best anniversary. Claret, having no hill to troublo lim, reversed the Ascot decision with Shoreham ; and Fast Day (purchased for 340 gs.) and Ayacanora (for 600 gs.), half-sister to Stockwell, but lacking his bone, made a dead heat for the Mottisfont Stakes, the latter going down by a neck at the second round. Both are Birdcatcher's, and the old horse is likely to have a fuller harem next year than he had this. No stallion will ever beat his average of 945 gs. a-piece for two colts at Tattersall's, in one afternoon. Dundas, the eldest of the Cossacks, ran, but did not make a good fourth of it. Mincepie, to whom a foolish public will persist in ascribing staying powers, was “nowhere” for the Stockbridge Derby, and Wentworth with his 5lbs. extra finished a head from Pretty Boy, and he a head from Coroner in his turn.

" In for a penny, in for a pound”; so out came this fallen crack in the next race, over the same distance of ground, and bad to endure Victoria and Porto Rico four lengths in front of him that time; while he beat Cerva the favourite in an amusing set-to, by a neck. Sam Rogers and Alfred Day had a similar neck set-to in the Two-year-old Triennial, and Rogers gained the day on the ugly-headed Aspasia, who brought Mr. Fitzwilliam some £300 of his losses back. The longer distance suited Pretty Boy (who will run very respectably in the St. Leger) in the Stewards’ Plate, and his defeat of Coroner concluded the rarest of day's sports, in which the Day stable, although they pulled out horse after horse, only won once, and Alfred Day not at all.

Winchester made a neat wind-up to the Hampshire week ; Glenmasson's 4lb. extra reversed the Bibury running with Tam o'Shanter, who led from end to end ; and Goldhill sent down Sirocco and Pretty Boy and Cerva for the Guineas. The Curragh June was remarkable for å victory by Indian Warrior (who is, we believe, no longer leased by the Messrs. Morris) at 24 miles, and under 9st. 21b. John Mann, who has crossed the Channel to try his chances on the Curragh, as Cartwright, Osborne, and Wakefield have done before him, was twice over lucky for Mr. Disney; and Citron, the pet Irish three-year-old, won Her Majesty's Plate in her old form. Lenham had a pleasant little meeting, amid its hop yards, where Swalcliffe was in the ascendant, and Dame Judith twice came to grief.

Of general news there is little afloat, though it is said in Newmarket that the Greville and Payne confederacy is to be dissolved on July 1st, and that Mr. Greville will not race after this season. His old favourite, Ariosto, met my eye the other day, in a sale-stable in London, and very corky and gay he looked. I hear from Middleham that Ellington's half-brother, Wardersmarke, is a little bay horse, strong, but not with Ellington's power, and that the pick of Tom Dawson's Derby basket will probably be Sprig of Shillelah, despite his broken tail. He reared up and fell backwards when a foal, and knocked his tail up, as The Fancy do their thumbs occasionally, which gives him an odd look. Fobert has a magnificent-looking animal in Zuyder Zee, half-brother to Van Tromp and The Dutchman, and perhaps one of the finest Orlandos that has ever been seen ; but he is backward at present. Lord of the Hills will hardly realize his great price (1,800 gs.), as his top is too big for his legs; and the 810.gs. Lady Harriet has been proved, we believe, to be as slow as a top. This stable has also a nice grey filly by Chanticleer-Rose of York, just come in; not the wretched cold grey that most of them are, but a nice warm tint. John Osborne has a likely horse, Glede Hawk, whom we shall hear more about anon. Fandango is all right again, and Barnton, his sire, who belongs to Mr. “Hospitality" Ridley at Leyburn, has had a great season. He is a fine horse, but heavy at the shoulder-point, and with very bad fore-legs. So far, 910 gs. has been the top price in the sales this year, and the Royal yearlings, who struck us as a poor lot in their foal-hood, fetched quite as much as they had any right to do. Their average of 1851-56, for 72 of them, is about 200 gs., which is certainly ample, however much they may declare it does not pay. The oddest notion of breeding has been carried out at these paddocks this season, as I believe Brown Holland, by Van Tromp, arrived to Loupgarou; which is like a man, some few seasons since, sending a Liverpool mare to British Yeoman! The outcry about the high prices at Sir Richard Sutton's sale is not realized as far as five out of the six are concerned, which Mr, R, Sutton bought for himself, as the following table will show :

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1,640 1,490 Bagepal Daly declined from 300 gs. to 105 gs. ; but taking the others, and considering the season of the second sale, it is evident that Mr Sulton knew well what he was about on that memorable thirteenth of December. Freney was then and is still my favourite.

Two Turfites have come to desperate grief at last, and furnished endless gossip for the West-end, along with that brace of sporting solicitors, who did things in such style with their horses, their wines, and their harriers, at Neasdon.

The Derby settling has been very shady, but little is said about it, as so many are running in trouble, and just scratching on for the chapter of accidents. The St. Leger is hardly ever mentioned, and about 3 to 1 against Ellington, 6 to 1 against Fazzoletto, and 10 to 1 against Victoria, are almost the only quotations we have heard ; but there will be some slight nibblings at Rogerthorpe, who can go a distance well enough if he keeps well. After the opinions so recently expressed in Brown v. Overbury, the plaintiffs in the Cannobie case will not find much sympathy with the judge ; the Turf did not certainly need this internecine war to weaken it ; and the only consolation we see in its somewhat gloomy horizon, is that the Derby fell into good hands; the Northumberland Plate ditto, and that Fazzoletto, with health, seems not unlikely to snatch that St. Leger wreath which his dam Canezou, eight years ago, lost by a short neck.

CHARLEY SCUPPER'S RACING YACHT.

CHAPTER II.

Bang! roared the gun from the umpire's vessel; and, as if by magic, the snowy canvas rose like a summer cloud upon the tapering spars of the four yachts which had assembled to contest for the prize. All four had been engaged in honourable emulation on the week previously, when the six cutters sailed the spirited match we have endeavoured to depict in our first chapter. It now appeared that two of the six entered for the present race had withdrawn their names ; probably because of the lightness of the wind, and their remote chance of success.

It was a totally different affair to the previous one, when there was as much wind as any reasonable yachtsman could desire ; but on the present occasion it was but a light summer breeze, such an one as when racing-yachts appear to gather all the wind from miles around and keep it with them, locked and fastened to their lofty sails; and when wherries, smacks, and trading-vessels, as they drift slowly in the tide, with scarcely steerage-way upon them, appear robbed of nature's favours ; whilst Æolus is crowding all his charms upon the fairy-like clippers in the race. Such is but a faint picture of the weather on the morning of the match. Every yachtsman knows the risk at starting with a light wind : all are eager to obtain the lead; and the spring is often sprung too soon; and, in canting, unless great caution be used, yachts are apt to foul each other: when the offending yacht forfeits all claim to the prize.

Captain Pivot was at the helm, and Charley himself at the spring, when the gun fired. A dash at the spring and a hearty pull on the buoy-rope, the jib being set almost at the same instant, and Captain Pivot is steadily and cautiously canting the yacht, whilst all hands are tugging away at the main and peak halliards, Charley himself lending a hand ; when, turning his head, in a moment his face became red as scarlet, as, almost choked with rage and vexation, he roared out

“ Mind your helm, Captain! Hard-a-port, for God's sake! Don't you see the Diamond right across your weather bow?”

Bat it was too late--the mainsail had for a moment obstructed the Captain's view just as the Diamond's sails were filling; and she somewhat too boldly dashing across the bows of the Sooloo, although not so as to prevent the latter going clear of her, had her captain observed her intention a few seconds sooner : Captain Pivot jammed the helm hard-a-port the instant he received the warning, but it was just one instant too late to avoid collision; and the Sooloo poked her bowsprit through the outer cloth of the Diamond's mainsail, leaving an aperture in the shape of a triangular slit a few inches above the seizing.

Poor Captain Pivot stamped the deck and swore a terrible oath : he knew that he had forfeited the prize ; but, recovering his selfpossession, he wreaked his vengeance upon the captain of the Diamond

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