had the misfortune to differ from Mr. George Moore in our estimate of an artist of old days, we are glad to be able to agree with and quote his words in speaking of one living: "Mr. Stuart-Wortley, in his double capacity of artist and sportsman, has had sometimes to sacrifice art to sport, and vice versa. is only fair to say that he has gone very near to uniting both in his picture of The Lost Royal.'' J. C. C. It My Favourite Salmon Rod. An Angler's Lay. BY CAPTAIN CLARK-KENNEDY, F.R.G.S., ETC., LATE FROM your cover once more you're triumphantly drawn, And the primest of sport, from the day I was born, Is waiting, old favourite, for me! Dear greenheart! you beauty, so trusty and tried! No lover could lavish more love on his bride, And you are delightful to me ! Old rod, you are spliced very much, I can see, Right away from the top to the reel; When I count up the fish you have landed for me, Once again you are "spliced," but your varnish so gay We have angled together, and victory won In "Norroway over the foam"; We are properly proud of the deeds we have done, Hurrah! for the season that's with us again! Let us cross to old Ireland, over the main, * The banks of the Lee, county Cork, are justly famed for "greenheart pretty girls. "' rods and So come! we'll away where the Blackwater flows, We will "rise" them again where they frequently rose- Oh! the Bush and the Bann of our prowess shall learn, And ditto the fish of the Boyne, And never forgetting the Shannon and Earn,"Be Jabers! the sport will be foine!" Come, show me the land that can ever surpass That bright little isle of the sea! Here's a health to the home of the emerald grass, And then to the North, at the top of our speed, And spoil must be won from the Don and the Tweed, In Spean and Deveron duty you've done; Then up! to the fray, for the season is here; How balmy and soft is the breeze in the west, A fig for the saddle, the gun, and the rest- Now steady, my beauty, and "cannily" cast And before the big rock in the middle is past, A monster! I have him-we're in for a race; How he sulks, how he rushes, then leaps in his pride! But I leave all the work to the rod; And at last he is beaten, he turns on his side, And who-whoop! he is safe on the sod! CASTING back over an old volume of BAILY, not long since, I came upon an article with a signature that denoted the handiwork of a worthy contributor in 1877, the late Hon. Robert Grimston, in which he mourned over the decline of the English horse; and, on reading its forcible conclusion, I could not refrain from cogitating whether the decade that had passed over our heads since those truthful lines had been penned, had or had not worked a change in our theme of to-day. In 1877 the tale was that we had become "an importing, instead of an exporting, country;" and, to prove this, he quoted statistics from 1862 to 1875, which showed conclusively that our imports had gradually but surely grown, as our exports had decreased. Let us take the next eleven years as following upon those given in 1877, and what do we find? A pleasing contrast indeed, and one that the pages of BAILY should record with triumph; for where else has this all-important subject been so steadily worked upon and consistently advocated? Here are the statistics of importation and exportation from 1877 to the end of 1888. If they were published up to date, we fancy they would furnish still more congratulatory figures. With what giant strides has our free trade in horses carried us forward! In 1862 we exported 4,318 horses, and imported 1,978. In 1877 the numbers had altered to 30,524 imported, and 2,352 exported; while in 1888 there were only 11,505 imported, and 13,445 exported; and the value of the latter were £874,071! being, from 1877 to 1888, £896,032 more than the value of those imported, and a clear gain in 1888 alone to the English horse market of £681,447. Taking the figures year by year, it is very interesting to see the steady growth that has taken place both in the number and value of exported horses, while the imported ones have decreased in a similar ratio. What greater justification can we have for complimenting the Government on the step they have taken, with the view of still further increasing these eminently satisfactory figures, by their gift of Queen's Premiums! What greater encouragement can the Hunters' Improvement Society have to continue in its good work! What more can the Shire Horse, the Hackney, the Clydesdale, the Suffolk Punch, or the Cleveland societies have as a beacon to guide them than these unmistakable statistics! The question is for ever being asked and debated, "Does horse-breeding pay?" It is almost answered here, but not quite. Let us clear the ground at once, by declaring that for thoroughbred horses of high class it does pay-none of my readers will gainsay this; and for cart-horses of all classes it is also very remunerative. In both cases, where judgment and capital are combined, there are quick returns and full pricessure signs of a good business. It is when we come to hunter and hackney breeding that we have to pause doubtfully before rushing to a conclusion. "Does it pay?" "Scarcely at present." And is not this why we are so desirous of bountifying it nowadays? Why have the Queen's Premiums come into existence? and why all these beneficent societies for the encouragement of hunter breeding, if the occupation in itself had been such a paying business ab initio? The question is selfanswered. But we can now, on the figures before us, go a step further, and say that the very fact of making such breeding popular and pretty universal throughout England will raise a greater market for exportation, to say nothing of larger home requirements, all which increase the price of hunters and roadsters, thus making a satisfactory solution to our proposition, and giving us a fair assurance that hunter-breeding will pay in the future. Mr. Burdett-Coutts has lately spoken most interestingly on this subject, and there can be no doubt that he is right in saying that horse-breeding has its peculiar fascinations and attractions. The very uncertainties and eccentricities of the pursuit make it delightful, beyond that of ordinary humdrum cattle or sheep breeding; and were it not for the liability to accident, which is incurred by keeping the young animals on pastures until three or four years old, I do not know where its compeer in pleasure, among agricultural pursuits, can be found. You published an excellent letter in your last month's issue, pleading for increased encouragement to Ireland as a military horsebreeding country. I hope Mr. H. C. Chaplin will read it and annotate it; for nowhere in the known world is such a climate for horse-breeding as Ireland, and nowhere in Great Britain can horses be bred so cheaply or so successfully. The Irish complain of our want of encouragement to their home. industries; but in this matter of horse-breeding let us be free from reproach; and whether they be landlords or tenants, bondsmen or free, let us take from them, at a good fair price, as many hundreds-aye, thousands-of horses as they can annually produce, and, if need be, let their sound sires be subsidised as freely as possible. It will be a paying investment of British money to do this. We have yet much to do to educate the ordinary English and Welsh farmer up to the requirements of successful horsebreeding. He is slow to recognise the distinction which should exist in breeding and rearing good half-bred stock, as against cart-horses; and is not only careless in the choice and management of his mares, but particularly so regarding the young produce. Many is the instance that I have known of a valuable brood mare being absolutely thrown away in a fit of unmeaning disgust or carelessness. I once was fortunate enough to rescue a splendid old Sleight of Hand mare, that had been bred at Sledmere, from becoming food for hounds, when, as it afterwards proved, she was carrying a foal, which eventually became worth several hundred pounds! Quite accidentally, while looking over a pack of hounds at exercise in the kennel field, the huntsman pointed to a grey mare that he was going to kill on the morrow, as one that had been a good one, and that a neighbouring farmer had sent him as a present to the pack's larder. I suggested the possibility of her being in foal; had her caught; a bucket of water was fetched, and, by putting my hand on her flank while she drank, I distinctly felt the feeble kick of the foal. It is needless to say that he agreed with me that she was worth more to keep alive than to kill; and a more sensible farmer than her late owner gladly gave £3 for her, with the result already told. I am glad to see that there are this year nearly a hundred entries of thoroughbred sires for the March show, to compete for the Queen's Premiums. I venture to hope that the merits of the winners will increase year by year, and the judges will, where possible, give the prizes to horses of at least five years old, and well seasoned. For how can three and fouryear-olds be expected to go through a heavy season, with sixty or more mares to serve, and be successful with the majority of them, unless at the expense of ruining their future powers and reputation? I have already noticed this baneful result with |