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a good judge slipped out of the paddock to " pitch into" him. It would have been a great thing for the enlivenment of St. Albaus if he had won; as since that immaculate borough lost its franchise and its steeplechase, it has sunk into such a state of dulness, that even melancholy strangers are tempted to come there expressly to commit suicide. Stone Plover was a great, sixteen-hand horse, with nothing particularly to recommend him. Mayor of Hull, and the apple of the beadle's eye, were simply stout, useful chesnuts; exactly adapted to run in a unicorn with Rattle. We have seldom seen Filbert look better; but his defeat of Defiance must have cost his sanguine owner a dollop of money. Pharold was an Alarm all over; while Wells made his maiden Derby appearance on Rataplan, who was the very image of his clumsy brother, Stockwell, but not quite so tall or so lengthy. He is quite the horse to train on, and no liberties should be taken with him. Peggy, on the contrary, did not bear one iota of resemblance to her own sister, Nancy; and we certainly did not take to her, as she is shortish, and does not look a likely one to improve. Lye evidently did not think much of her chance, as he gave away the mount. Ethelbert was quite lost among such high company. We should call him rather high in his withers, and heavy in his shoulder. He must have been very lucky in his class of antagonists hitherto, as he is not very racing in his look. Vanderdecken has had a wonderful polish put on him during the winter, and is a magnificent-looking horse, but too fine if anything for use. He has quite lost his heavy mould, and has become a pretty Flying Dutchman, rather higher and not so stout on the leg, and equally inclined to droop in the back. Pharos is a very proud, showy horse, of the peacock order of architecture. It scems that I was right when I said last month that " I had no belief in his lasting powers." He would have strangely belied his look if he possessed them. Kent's confidence did not weigh one straw with me, as he is invariably wrong; and surely Harbinger was a very shady trial horse to measure chances against West Australian with. In his loose shabby loins, parallelogram shape, and thin tail, Honeywood bore a strict resemblance to Harbinger; but he was a far better-looking animal than I had been led to believe. It would have been strange if a halfbrother to Maid of Team Valley had been the ugly brute which all Middleham swore he was. He was certainly long and weakish in the back, but his forehand was good, and his thighs and arms very powerful. If anything we thought him a trifle cat-hammed, but it might be mere fancy. He was certainly not built to face the most difficult course in the world; but, if I mistake not, he will run forwarder over the Doncaster flat. It was lucky that he did not win, as he would, so report avers, have almost broken the Ring. Orinoco was not in the bright coat or mood in which he showed on the 2000 gs. day, and Fion ma Coul was merely a stale hunter in bandages. Cineas we hardly looked at, as, seeing that Alfred Day was not up, and that John Day was not in attendance on him, we concluded that his chance (which we had never believed in) was entirely gone. His friends assert that he was run against coming round the corner, and thrown some lengths. If so, he has still a chance of appeal against the winner in the St. Leger, along with Orestes, Rataplan, Vanderdecken, Honeywood, and Sittingbourne. A kick in the groin is said to have caused the scratching of the Reiver

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(whose presence will also add zest to the Leger), and the thunder of the feet rattle as they rose the hill was enough to rouse Elmsthorpe (as promising a nomination as any of the lot) from his grave beneath Salisbury spire. Umbriel was very fine drawn, and seemed to lather rather after his canter. He certainly disappointed us very much, as he is not the nice round horse he promised to be, but a small light-timbered hollow-back, with a swan neck. The contrast between him and his companion, as regards power and racing points, was absolutely ridiculous. "Why Sim, you've got old Cannonball there!" was the salutation of a veteran ex-jockey to his rider, as he was leaving the paddock; but I am not old enough to verify the resemblance from recollection. Sim could not, however, be said to be seated in "Sleepy Hollow," as his nag's eye was as bright as a gazelle's; but we certainly thought that West Australian (who is a raking but not a handsome horse) looked rather sleepy, and not so well as he did at Newmarket. It was, moreover, whispered that John Scott did not relish the very hard ground for him; and Butler, who in accordance with his Daniel O'Rourke precedent, made a point of leaving the paddock last for luck, did not wear such a jaunty look as he did when seated on "the chesnut pony." Never, surely, did man leave that paddock in successive years on two such differently built horses.

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The start and finish were worthy of each other. I seldom saw horses shot away so neatly from the starter's hands, before they had time to turn refractory; and the race between five at the Stand was equally beautiful. Butler gammoned a little, but I fancy that he won quite easily. Seeing that Sittingbourne in what his friends considered his highest form, and with Sam Rogers on his back, could get only a few inches closer to his foc than he did at Newmarket, it is pretty evident that my view of the Two Thousand Guineas "half length" was perfectly correct. As I told my readers, some two months ago, the stable had a line through Longbow, which convinced them that West Australian was at least 9lbs. better than Pelion. Hence I predicted that this form was not only high enough to win the Two Thousand Guineas; and then, that if he was out of it, the Derby would be the openest race on record—but surely there can be no form near his." Sittingbourne I perhaps rather undervalued, simply because I thought, and still think, that he is more built for a flat course. It seemed to me that there must be some undeveloped "form" between the two, and "that there never was a finer opening for a dark horse to get second place." My information about Cineas's inability to do his work was wrong. It seems that a gentleman, whose professional knowledge of the article led him to think that he was not "THE cheese," was the artilleryman who poured the grapeshot volleys into him; and as the Day family are all at sixes and sevens, in consequence of stable disputes, Bumby was substituted for Alfred Day. One is a flasher rider than the other; but for my part I do not think there is a pin to choose between them, though one admirer of Cineas in a morning print coolly puts the difference at 7lbs.! Two inveterate and unaccountable fallacies seem to have possessed the public with regard to this race; one was that West Australian could not "stay," and the other that Umbriel was the better nag of the two. I asked at least a score of "noble sportsmen" where they got these quaint ideas from; and their answers were quite on the "Dr. Tell" principle. In fact, I only succeeded

in over-persuading two that the natural inferences were all the other way. As soon as the Derby was over, West Australian was put into physic with a view to the Triennial Stakes at Ascot, where Sittingbourne seems likely to be his only competitor of any note; and as he is honoured with 8lb. and 71b. penalties in his three Goodwood and York engagements, he will no doubt be kept quiet for Doncaster, where he is heavily engaged, and finish up in the First October.

Before we attack the Oaks, we must premise that two uncommonly nice two-year-olds made a winning debut at Epsom. Woodcote is a wiry, pretty, level, and little animal, with fair length, and no very big bone; while Dervish is as promising and bloodlike a colt as a man need wish to have, and possessed of good size, and very fine shoulders, and depth of girth. He is in the St. Leger and Derby; and, bar Ruby, he is the nicest young thing we have seen this year.

Scarcely a soul was to be seen on the Kingston field-route, as we trod it on the Oaks day. The only incidents we met with were rather of an opposite character-to wit, a healthy young carpenter fastening up a gate with a horse-shoe, to keep the witches off the cattle this summer; and a flunkey, with a lion rampant on his buttons, losing halfa-sovereign among the thimble-riggers. In the paddock, the unbeaten Catherine Hayes monopolized nearly all the attention. Lanercost's unfashionable season in 1849 bids fair to do quite as much for his name as 1843, when he begot his famous Van Tromp and Co. trio. I can repeat what I said in December, "she is one of those fine animals whom it is almost impossible to criticise." She certainly has a contracted off forc-foot; but it does not interfere with her soundness one whit, or the ground that day would have found it out. She is quite 15 hands 3 inches; and we should say that her temper is perfect; while, in her general cut, she reminds us rather of Aphrodite, though she is a more powerfully-built mare, and with a back at least fifty per cent. better. We were not a little amused to see Lord Glasgow going with Lord Derby to have a look at " COALITION, out of Conspiracy." As for Denny Wynne, he did honour to his patron saint by getting outside another rough-and-ready sort of hunter; and when one remembers to have seen Aleck Taylor strip Teddington, Clincher, Aphrodite, and The Ban, all in one afternoon,. at Doncaster, it was passing strange to watch him equally busy with two such rips as Hybla and Nicotine. The front legs of the latter are quite going, and she seems to get narrower and narrower, and her friend plainer and plainer. Miseltoe has plenty of size, and a very nice fore hand, and good arms, while her thighs and stifle-joints were very powerful; but if anything, she was rather too fine drawn. Somehow or other Peck seldom trains a horse to stay. Mentmore Lass is a great tall mare, and walks with her head very erect; but she is rather inclined to be leggy, and we thought that she would have been all the better for a little more time. Her companion, Lady Louisa, was rather of the Bird-on-the-Wing build; while Miss Tennyson was a stout level-built sort of lady's horse, more adapted for Rotten Row than Tattenham Corner. The Queen is not one bit improved, and her coat had not the John Scott "Pigburn polish" on it, nor did she look anything like the mare she did when Mr. Allen, her breeder, so affectionately kissed her at York. We did not observe that any of them were under the influences of "the Young May Moon;" but Lady Margaret, from

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some cause or other, looked as if she had been pulled through a pond when she pulled up after her canter. It was, however, rather refreshing to see Butler leave the paddock in such a plight, as one felt quite sick of seeing his name affixed, year after year, to the Oaks winner. To my eye the race was over in the first hundred yards, as Catherine Hayes waited in front and mounted the hill in a low easy sweeping style, such as I never saw equalled since I trod a race-course. done it more con amore. I would have gone miles only to see that first quarter of a mile run. It seemed to take nothing out of her, and a gentle pull at the distance was all she required to enable her to come right away from her horses at the stand, and confirm, as far as rested with her, my last month's confidence-"If Catherine Hayes is all right on the Oaks day, Whitehouse ought to be gazetted at last." Poor George's bad luck at Epsom has become proverbial. He was second on Hotspur, Marlbro' Buck, and Miserrima, and, in consequence of some hitch, lost both his mounts on Hobbie Noble and this mare. Marlow has now won each of the great races once. They cannot get Charity up to the mark, or else I fancy she might have borne out my notion that she would have been "second chop ;" and The Queen ran exactly "nowhere," as I said she would, even when every one was open-mouthed to back her. Mentmore Lass's defeat makes the fillies of this year awfully bad. It is a very sad pity that the winner is not in the St. Leger; but as it is, she will have the opportunity of meeting West Australian, at 3lbs. over the A. F., in the First October.

And thus ended a week, which will long be remembered as having produced, to all present seeming, a brace of the finest animals that were ever coupled together in Epsom annals.

May 28.

THE BURN.

ENGRAVED BY W. BACKSHELL, FROM A PAINTING BY A COOPER R.A.

To the hunter, a stag 66 taking soil" is often an end of sport; to the stalker it is quite as commonly but the commencement of the more exciting part of it. A buck hard hit, who takes to crossing the burns with a couple of deer-hounds well laid on, can scarcely fail affording very fine employment to those in pursuit of him. The one, however, in our plate is evidently only just stalked up to, and one crack of the rifle may stay his further revels up or down stream. Stags found under some such circumstances as these Mr. Cooper gives us, are generally "prize animals;" at least, so say the brothers Stuart, from whose Lays and Notes we gladly borrow a bit of appropriate description.

"When deer are upon the braes, or in the hollows of the hills, unless they are masked by sheep, hinds, or some unlucky covey of grouse, if the ground is unequal, or intersected by channels, it is very easy to approach in the ravines and hollows, or under cover of the rocks or banks; but on wide, smooth, and naked slopes, as in the forest of Gaig, it is very difficult, and sometimes impossible. When they are in the face of a smooth steep, and accessible, if the wind permits, it is generally preferable to descend upon them from above; and if you are below, you

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