has given a very lively and truthful picture of Parisian racing in a late No. of the N, S. M. and not the least amusing item in the day's account was the number of glasses of eau de vie supplied to the police. The best day's racing that I ever saw in "la belle France," was in the Champ de Mars, at Paris, on the occasion of the Fetes of July. Here, after an exhibition of racing, "A l'Anglaise," by great fat fellows in silk jackets, tights, and tops, with fronts to their caps as long as a pelican's bill,-ten or twelve horses were started without riders, after the Italian fashion, and it was a truly noble sight to see the jealous animals striving to outstrip each other with right good will, and a capital race they made of it. To this succeeded a Chariot Race of ancient "bijuga"-the drivers being dressed in the old Roman costume, and standing up in their chariots; this was also a most exciting race, and only won "by a wheel." Germany has its racing, and very good races are those of Gûstroe and Hamburgh. Hungary, too, finds patrons for the turf, and truly national, as well in costume as in kind, are the Annual "Native" Stakes at Pesth. Russia is beginning to follow suit, and promises right well. Asia is far too celebrated for its horses, to admit of a suspicion of laxity in turf pursuits. In the Anglo Indian domains, however, there is an original mixture (if such a term can be allowed) of British customs baked beneath an Eastern sun until they have assumed a hue peculiarly their own, and worthy of a more detailed description. In the immediate neighbourhood of the metropolitan cities, things are managed in an orderly manner, the only striking peculiarity being the early hour at which the sports begin-viz., 6 a. m.; but in the Mofussil, namely, that part of Bengal, without the Ditch that surrounds the City of Palaces, and corresponding with what we term the provinces," matters are managed differently, and though there is less observance of the "etiquette" of racing, there is, nevertheless, plenty of fun to be met with at an "up country" station, that may perhaps boast a Queen's regiment, one or two of John Company's ditto, a judge, a clergyman, a European shopkeeper, and niggers, and Paria dogs ad infinitum. There are few, if any, out-stations in India that do not keep up their annual race meeting-the propensity forgoing the pace becoming doubly apparent in the "rising generation," on their putting their foot on India's shore. Youngsters who have seen the sort of thing at home, but whose purse or inclination kept them from pursuing the sport, no sooner find themselves out of parents' or pedagogues' controul, than they are seized with an insatiable desire of distinguishing themselves in the pig's-skin, and every facility is afforded them for so doing. I know no feeling so delightful as possessing a horse of one's own for the first time, to say nothing of being master of some dozen niggers whom you may kick from the top of the house to the bottom, without the slightest chance of their even taking into their heads the slightest idea of putting a stop to such a proceeding. There is a pleasure in the latter that only those who have tried it can know. A month's bile is dispelled in each kick, and if it did not throw one into a rather disagreeable perspiration (with the thermometer at 100) it would have been worthy of the patronage of Sardanapalus himself. But to the horses. As soon as the youngster (griffins we call them in India until the first year and a day of their habitation in that "sweet spot" is out) finds he is possessed of a 250 rupee nag, he naturally reflects on the best way of making the said nag pay its expenses. Dosetgee Spavingee, the seller, having sworn by Koran's holy waters, and everything else swearable by, that he will beat anything in India with four legs. For 250 rupees or £25, a man who has anything of an eye for a horse, can get a very decent piece of horse-flesh, either to carry him with the hounds or as a hack, of course,-country bred. An imported English hack, costing from £70 to £200, and an Arab £70 to £100; but the griffin, in his hurry to possess something alive, gets terribly taken in if he relies on his own judgment. However bad his Rosinante may be, the first thing he does is to match it for a mile or so for 100 rupees, or two six dozen chests of Hodgson's pale ale, which of course he loses (unless some other griffin has taken up the gauntlet, when the chances are even), and then he sends his horse to "Moore and Hickey's" (the Calcutta Tattersall's) to be knocked down to the highest bidder;-and so he goes on until the coin that he has been started with from an affectionate home, has found its way into the pockets of his "knowing" friends, and he commences life on a par with all around him-i. e. on tick. Calcutta is a far different place now, however, for getting either credit or money than it was formerly, some of the very obliging money lending niggers having been pretty severely bitten within the last few years. Bad luck to them! Horses are easily got on credit, however, particularly by the griffin, who has not had time to accumulate very heavy debts since his arrival, and by his giving an I. O. U. for double the value of his purchase. Having provided himself in this manner, and having bought a little experience at the metropolis, off he goes to join his regiment in the mofussil. Such is a specimen of the gents who keep up our national pastime in the out-stations of India, except in the more considerable ones, as Cawnpore, Rishnagar, &c., where the races are first-rate. Some two months previous to a meeting in the Mofussil, you may see some dozen or twenty animals having their legs gallopped off every morning, buried in no end of blankets and " kopræ," and bestridden by their owners, for his racing jacket, has heard that the commandant's daughter has who endeavour to look as much like grooms as a nigger tailor can make them. This is called the training. A fine time is this for the aforesaid European shopkeeper; the ensign, who has chosen light blue silk whispered her admiration of pink and white, and has changed accordingly. Another who has ordered a yellow velvet, with black foxes' heads on it to look "sporting," having been called to his face a d—d fool for his pains, challenges the "caller," gets drunk, and takes his advice. Whips are at an awful premium; any money offered for spurs; topboots hung up in the most conspicuous place in the bungalow; all the sporting periodicals that can be collected thrown significantly on the table-nothing talked of but Newmarket, Jem Robinson, and the colour of his jacket. Such are the prognostications of a genuine upcountry race meeting. Various lotteries, moreover, are made, and various dozens of pale ale drank-various cheroots smoked-and various opinions as to So and So's hoss (it would be highly out of fashion to say horse at present) winning the Ladies' Plate. The lotteries are filled-the stakes made up-the riders happy and sanguine -the horses half galloped off all the legs they ever had—and the day dawns bright on the deeds it is to witness. The evening before everybody gave a party-everybody talked loud and big-and everybody was so brave and-tipsy. Alas! alas! the morning sees a man putting on his silk jacket as uncomfortably as if it was a strait-waistcoat, and stepping into his top-boots with as seeming unhappiness as if they were his coffin One might suppose a slight degree of "funk” was suddenly instilled into our hero's hearts; but no-away with the idea! no one could suppose such a thing who heard them talk six hours ago. However, "slowly and sadly" apparently, they wend their way to the race-course, where the sight of a multitude of niggers assembled to witness their performances, does not add to their comfort. All the "beauty and fashion" of the station are in the stand; alas ! they smile in vain on those in silk and satin. Oh! Griff! Griff! why wilt and must thou ever be making thyself unhappy, uncomfortable, and often ridiculous, for the mere sake of endeavouring to do what thou never canst do as well as a livery stable keeper's under groom? Consider this, Oh, Griff! and ask thyself if it be not true. After some hours' delay, perhaps, the first lot are got off, and after a most amusing scene of crossing, jostling, and bolting, and after we have begun to imagine that they have started never to return, the first animal comes floundering in, twenty lengths ahead, all having started at speed, and kept it up as long as it would last. Happy, happy youth is he that is borne on the back of the winner-his fame is made for ever! Smiles and bravoes are for him alone! Of course it was he who won; what could the horse have to do with winning? What envy he excites in the beaten ones! but, singularly enough, all their horses had something the matter with them on this particular morning, or they must have won. However he is monarch of all he surveys, and heaven knows when we should hear the end of his praises sung by himself, did not some dry old sporting Qui Hi, disinterestedly ask him for a "lock of his hair," which silences the chap-fallen conqueror in an instant. The next race on the list is the Cheroot Stakes, which signifies that each rider is to light a cheroot or cigar, at starting, and unless it still holds a The light when he passes the winning post, he is declared distanced. weighing being finished, the cheroots are duly lighted, the more knowing ones having steeped their cheroots in a solution of saltpetre for two or three days previously, to better hold the fire. It presents rather a ludicrous spectacle to see some dozen fellows mounted in silks and tops, puffing away like so many miniature steam-boilers previous to the start, looking for the most part as if they enjoyed it, and no doubt they do, until put into motion by that very important little word in the racing vocabulary, "Off!" when it becomes a very different business. Half-choking, before he has gone a hundred yards, you see a rider's hand leave the reins, or drop the whip, and seize the cigar with desperation-two seconds more, and it will be out, pop it goes into the mouth again-to revive at the expense of the fumigator's feelings and at the half-mile his cigar is out-his horse has done all it had in it to do, and the rider does not return to the stand (perhaps he has his reasons). The remainder go along puffing desperately, and regardless of consequences, one more experienced than the rest, keeps the lead, thereby sending his smoke into the faces of those behind him, independently of their own. At last, in they come, in a cloud, amid the deafening hurrahs of the wonder-stricken niggers, who seem to say, and no doubt would say, if they had ever heard it,— "Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer's' cloud,' But, blood and turf! what ails the youth whose gallant steed first bore him past the goal of victory? Alas! he is the picture of death on his pale horse, white and shivering he dismounts, and gulps down a glass of proffered pale ale, then complains of fatigue, and of the last night's "keeping it up." It is every thing but the real thing, the very natural cause having been the swallowing some forty or fifty mouthfuls of tobacco smoke, during the winning of the said cheroot stakes-To him congratulations are unheard-bright smiles lose their charms-even the stakes he has won are for a moment forgotten, and as soon as possible, he “leaves the gay and festive scene," with a fixed determination never to smoke again, and with a very unfixed state of "internal" arrangement. I never could understand the reason why people will take the utmost pains to put themselves to every inconvenience and discomfort to suffer, and be laughed at, without one single advantage to recompense them in return, unless it is that perversity of human nature, so peculiar and becoming to the swine genus. Forgive my digression, kind reader! I'm a bit of a philosopher, or rather moralist. The last race of the day is the Cocked Hat Stakes, which is another fancy of our Eastern sportsmen. This race consists in each jockey being furnished with a cocked hat in lieu of a racing cap, which, if dropped, or blown off in the race, causes its owner to be distanced. The appearance of a large field of these cocked hats, is grotesque in the extreme, and as they are not allowed to be tied under the chin, one hand finds occupation in keeping them on the head. It affords much fun, and after all, that is what is more sought after than real legitimate sport in India. In such manner our "" 'youths manage to amuse themselves in the provinces of India, despite a burning sun, and the chances of a puckah fever; and fortunate it is that such amusements are still within their reach, as they, for a moment, wean the mind from longing after dearer objects in their father-land, and enable them to feel, though for a time, happiness even in their banishment. During the races-dinners, balls, and bachelors' parties occupy the later hours of the day. Here the lucky winner again rides his race over to his fair partner of the dance, and receives her approving smiles with as much delight as he pocketed the sweepstakes, or he hears his health drank, and his future success, at the hospitable board of the "Great Man" of the station; and hours of happiness glide onhours that he never forgets through years of toil and vicissitudesnot even when he returns again to his native land, a browner and a better man." THOUGHTS ON THE APPROACHING DONCASTER MEETING. BY UNCLE TOBY. I FEEL quite prepared to witness a capital week's sport, at the grea racing emporium of the North, as my Lord George Bentinck, at the last gathering, roused the Yorkites from the apathy into which they had allowed themselves to slumber, ever since Birmingham's year. On the first day, a new stakes, in the shape of a race called The Great Yorkshire Stakes of 25 sovs. each, 15 ft., and 5 only if declared by a certain time, has forty-one acceptances, out of an entry of upwards of a hundred horses of all denominations. This handicap will be a most sporting-like affair, as many horses are strongly fancied. The Champagne Stakes will prove of great interest, inasmuch as the Scotts will be pitted against T. Dawson. The Scotch are amazingly fond of Aristides, but I do not think much of his victory at Goodwood, for the field there was wretched in the extreme. Blackdrop is an especial favourite NO. XXI.-VOL IV.-NEW SERIES. 2 A |