OF

SPORTS AND PASTIMES.

LORD ROYSTON.

AMONG the recent accessions to the Turf is Lord Royston, a young Nobleman who has made himself very popular by his unaffected goodnature, and the honourable mode he has pursued with his horses, which is entitled to imitation even by those of his equals in life.

Lord Royston is the eldest son of the fourth Earl of Hardwick by Susan, daughter of the first Baron Ravensworth and grandson of the late Sir Joseph York, whose melancholy death by drowning in Southampton Water is still spoken of with regret in that neighbourhood. Lord Royston was born in 1836, and went through the usual curriculum of study at Harrow and Cambridge, upon quitting which he entered the 7th Hussars, in which regiment he stayed a couple of years, when he was promoted to a Lieutenancy, and exchanged into the 11th Hussars, from which he retired in 1861. While in the army Lord Royston served in India, and was present with his regiment during the advance into Nepaul, and he was present at the affair at Silkugat, and received a medal. Since that period Lord Royston has filled the office of Comptroller of Her Majesty's Household, and been elected Member for Cambridgeshire. In politics Lord Royston is a Conservative, but at the same time a strong advocate for the Abolition of the Malt Tax, and for the maintenance of the Army and Navy in a high state of efficiency.

As a Sportsman Lord Royston has ever shown himself a patron of every manly and athletic sport. He races not so much for profit. as amusement, and is also devoted to Cricket. Of Hunting he is passionately fond, and with his small stud at Melton can hold his own with the best men in Leicestershire. And, in conclusion, we may say of Lord Royston, that he is one of the best style of noblemen now extant on the Turf, and very much appreciated in Racing Circles. Lord Royston, we should add, is married to Lady Sophia Georgina, second daughter of the first Earl Cowley.

VOL. XVII. NO. 115.

L

THE BONNET OF BLUE.

YE thoroughbred Tykes, who in Voltigeur's cause
Redoubled your rounds of excited applause;

Who swear by the Dutchman and worship the West,'
And follow John Scott with a northerner's zest:
With foaming homebrew'd fill your tankards anew,
And drink a deep health to the bonnet of blue.

In all your broad acres there beats not a heart
But bears in the glories of racing its part;
The sires and the dams of your steeds of renown
Are known to your serfs better far than their own;
And they cherish a love tender, honest, and true,
For Johnny,' the knight of the bonnet of blue.
From Middleham Moor hails your chivalrous crack,
He flies up its gallops in Ellington's track;
But worthier far, for already the Heath'
Has bound on his front her redoubtable wreath;
And the bonny bright Riband' is lost in the hue
Of a jacket that matches the bonnet of blue.

You all may remember when southward he came
They vowed he would turn out as good as his name ;'
How Newmarket scoffed and the knowing ones swore
They'd ne'er seen a crack with such action before;
But his action behind they were fated to view
As they reeled in the track of the bonnet of blue.

Newmarket may boast, as she ever has done,
Of Martyrdom's merits and Skirmisher's son;
But haply on trial their foes may demur,
For one is a cripple, the other a cur:

And backers may grumble and owners may rue
That they cast down the guage to the bonnet of blue.

The Drummer may carry the colours of Græme,
And boast his old motto of ever the same;'
But how can he hope better cadence to beat,
And wipe out the stain of his double defeat?
If he's better by pounds 'twill be all he can do
To keep within hail of the bonnet of blue.

Sir Joseph is silent and biding his time,
He looks up the tree that he ventures to climb;

If the branches are safe, and the fruit worth the chance,
His Pero may lead them a deuce of a dance;

And Johnny may have to keep glancing askew,
And sit down to ride in his bonnet of blue.

Let Aske, as of old, raise her banner of pride,
And Malton to George' all her honour confide
The green garb of Typhon, the white of Dunbar,
Flash bright in the onset of turbulent war;
In vain-they shall vanish, as fadeth the dew
In the eye of the sun, the bright bonnet of blue.
Thorwaldsen shall follow the hope of the North,
Lord Hawthorn to battle shall herald him forth,
Staunch, valiant, and swift are the squires who attend.
The steps of their master, and sworn to defend :
But they're soon in the lurch when he puts on the screw,
And it comes to a race with the bonnet of blue.

Then put down your money, and stand it like men,
Nor growl at the odds-'tis a horse to a hen:
See now as he comes how his foemen retire,

Their hearts are all broken, all quenched is their fire;
And back through a throng he can scarcely press through
Comes merrily nodding the bonnet of blue.

AMPHION.

THE STUBBLES.

WITH a fair if not good crop of turnips, swedes, and mangolds, potatoes, and so forth, where partridges most do congregate, the stubbles will be but little appreciated or thought of. Yet it is always worth our while to note how sport can be obtained, even under the most untoward circumstances. Let us then in fancy project ourselves into a thoroughly dry season, such, for instance, as the last, when nine fellows out of ten will swear it is no use taking a gun in hand, and save for an occasional day's driving, vote anything like an attempt to get at the birds a bore; when they leave their fair acres to the keepers and poachers, and betake themselves to the Continent, try the tables at Baden-Baden, climb the Alps, get married, take to drink, or anything rather than shoot partridges. Yet for the moderate man there is balm in Gilead even in such a season. If he likes sport better than butchery, is contented to walk for that sport, and is, moreover, not a mere shooter, but one who knows the habits of the game he is in pursuit of, where and when to find it, and how his own skill may best make up for want of cover, verily he may go to the stubbles and not return quite empty-handed. Moreover, the birds are generally plumper or in better condition in such a season, and are worth a little toil to secure them. Nay, if he will accompany me I think I can give him not only a good healthful walk but a fair share of amusement. We will take our departure, always supposing he is a sportsman of the order I have attempted to describe, and a contented, companionable fellow to boot, other

wise I'll none of him. We will take our departure, I say, for an old shooting-box I wot of, far away down in the south-an outlandish place, that you must traverse bye-roads and downs to reach-an independent, self-willed, conservative old spot, regardless of fashion, and but little given to change its traditions. With no name in history, situated on a road leading nowhere, whose inhabitants live and die there, after the same manner that their ancestors have done for ages before them-you may pass close to the place and never dream of its existence like the chasms we read of as crossing the Western prairies, you see it not until an abrupt descent takes you from the open country down into the midst of it. Once there it is like an oasis in the desert: noble trees line the valley, picturesque homesteads nestle beneath them; while down the centre brawls a shallow troutstream, and here, surrounded with trees and meadows, completely shut in by the hill, stands the old shooting-box. So far well; now for our sport. We will not hurry ourselves in the morning, for it shall be less a day of hard walking than a pleasant saunter round the estate, which as yet has not heard the report of a gun; but with our breech-loaders in hand (we must have them, as in such a season every shot is of consequence to the bag), we will stroll leisurely forth, with the curly-coated retriever, who shall be our only four-footed companion to-day. So through the neat garden, across the trim lawn, and out into the pastures beyond: we will try those pits. It's a favourite spot for a hare early in the season. Good dog, Ben! turn her out there! Was I not right? there she goes, but thirty yards is the length of her tether. Very neatly killed indeed. Now for the potato patch through the old gate, that must hold a covey let us walk it quietly. Another turn, we shall get them on the edge of the stubble. Bang! bang! bang! Well done! a leash down to begin with, but the covey is gone out of bounds right across the valley. Always the case with those bred close at home here. Nine coveys out of ten take that flight, and the same from the opposite side, so on the whole probably we gain as many as we lose by it. The dog works as though there was a straggler or two left: let us beat it out. That's right, you have him. Now I will call the man who is digging yonder, and let him take in those we have killed, and tell Mrs. Grumbles, the housekeeper, to add the leash of young ones to our bill of fare. Always despatch the first-fruits of the season, to be offered with all due honours, a sacrifice to the feast of St. Partridge; and believe me none during the year, even though hung to the very acmé of perfection, surpass these young birds killed and dressed ere they have time to cool. But they must be young ones or the offering becomes a curse, and a snare. Now for the stubble; not such a one as I should wish to subject to your notice, for even here, old-world as we are, farmers have learnt better than to leave half such a valuable substance as the straw to rot away upon the ground. With an early harvest, no backward oats standing, and the turnips in a minority, a good rough old-fashioned stubble is much missed.

:

Nevertheless, unless I am mistaken, we may fall upon