second to Mr. Turner's Stapleton, 3 yrs., 6st. 4lb., for a Handicap Plate of 100 sovs; a mile and a-quarter; five others also ran. 2 to 1 against Sunbeam, who was beaten by a length and a-half.

At the same meeting, ridden by Wells, and carrying 8st. 2lb., she won a three-year-old stake of 50 sovs. each; a mile and a-half; beating Mr. Jones' Ditto, 8st. 7lb. (2), and Mr. Saxon's Princess Royal, 8st. 2lb. 5 to 4 against Sunbeam, who won by a length and a-half.


At the same meeting, ridden by Challoner, and carrying 7st. 4lb., she won the Chesterfield Cup of 300 sovs., &c.; mile and a-quarter ; beating Mr. Cooper's King of the Forest, 4 yrs., 7st. 71b. (2); Mr. La Mert's Katherine Logie, 5 yrs., 7st. 13lbs. (3); Major Houstoun's Harry Stanley, 3 yrs., 5st. 12lb. (4); Mr. Howard's Sedbury, yrs., 7st. 121b.; Mr. R. H. Jones's Ditto, 3 yrs., 7st. 71b.; Colonel Martyn's Nereus, 4 yrs., 7st. 6lb.; Baron Rothschild's Mentmore, 3 yrs., 7st. 4lb.; Captain Christie's Orchehill, 3 yrs., 7st. 2lb.; Mr. Mills's Pensioner, 3 yrs., 7st. 2lb.; Mr. Gratwicke's Newington, 5 yrs., 7st. 2lb.; Count F. de Lagrange's Zouave, 3 yrs., 7 st.; Lord Anglesey's Tricolor, 4 yrs., 7st. ; Lord Clifden's Chanoinesse, 3 yrs., 6st. 7lb.; Sir W. Booth's ch. c. by Windhound, out of The Maid, 3 yrs., 6st. 2lb.; Mr. Ten Broeck's Babylon, 4 yrs., 5st. 12lb.; Mr. Payne's Turned-loose, 3 yrs., 5st.; and Mr. Hodgman's The Beacon, 3 yrs., 4st. 8lb. 8 to 1 against Sunbeam, who won by three-quarters of a length.

At Doncaster, ridden by L. Snowden, she won the St. Leger Stakes of 50 sovs. each, &c., for three-year-old colts, 8st. 71b., and fillies 8st. 2lb.; a mile and three-quarters; beating Mr. T. Dawson's The Hadji (2); Mr. Merry's Blanche of Middlebie (3); Lord Derby's Toxophilite (4); Lord Ailesbury's Compromise; Mr. Barber's Prince of Denmark; Count Batthyany's The Farmer's Son; Mr. Murland's Longrange; Mr. Nichol's Volta; Mr. Crawfurd's East Langton; Count Batthyany's The Courier; Lord Clifden's The Knight of Kars; Lord Glasgow's Brother to Bird-on-the-Wing; Mr. Gratwicke's Governess; Admiral Harcourt's Gildermire; Mr. Howard's Eclipse; Mr. Parr's Kelpie; and Baron Rothschild's Mentmore. 15 to 1 against Sunbeam, who won by half-a-length. Run in 3 minutes and 20 seconds.

At the same Meeting, ridden by L. Snowden, and carrying 8st. 4lb., she walked over for the Don Stakes of 50 sovs. each, &c.; one mile.

At Newmarket Second October Meeting, ridden by Wells, and carrying 8st. 11lb., she won the Select Stakes of 50 sovs. each, for threeyear-olds; D.M.; beating Mr. Sutton's Eurydice, 8st. 4lb. 7 to 4 on Sunbeam, who won by nearly a length.

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In 1858, she has started thirteen times, and won eight:

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Sunbeam's engagements, for 1859, are-in the Claret at Newmarket, with Blanche of Middlebie to help her out against Toxophilite; in another Sweepstakes at Newmarket, versus Toxophilite; and in a Fouryear-old Stake at Goodwood.

Mr. Merry, the owner of Sunbeam, is a very determined and very popular sportsman. Few men now on the turf enter with more spirit into the thing. None back their horses more heartily, or, as in the case of Hobbie Noble and others, give longer prices for what they want. His stud have lately been in the care of Prince, who does them every credit. It is seldom indeed that any animal has shown the bloom of high condition more than Sunbeam did for both her great races. Still, when Mr. Merry purchased Lord John Scott's horses, they were allowed to remain with Dawson, and a well-known trial between Sunbeam and Blanche of Middlebie gave the latter the best of it. Prince, however, never lost his confidence in his own mare. Luke Snowden is one of the most resolute and able of our light weights. Although educated in the North, we believe he is a New Forest lad. He had been rather under a cloud for some time past, but the St. Leger has given him another start, and he is "up" now in almost every race of importance.

The only "curious coincidence" attached to the St. Leger of 1858, is that like that of the previous season it was won by a filly who was fourth for the Oaks.



No. VI.

Lynmouth-beautiful Lynmouth! how shall I describe it? for I must own, as we pulled our reins and halted for a time, to look around us, that my imagination had done but scantily justice to the lovely scene I gazed on, coloured and enriched as it was by the golden sun of an autumnal evening, which was sinking, as it were, into the depths of the blue sea, leaving its rays on the many-coloured woodlands below me, and the dark-blue mountains of Wales as a back ground.

Nestling in a deep and luxuriantly-wooded vale, through which the

river Lynn-if river it can be termed-rushes towards the Bristol Channel, we beheld, from the towering heights on which we stood, the charming village, which appeared, as it were, to sleep in peace beneath the shelter of overhanging woods, and hills verging into all but mountains, that rose around and above it in every direction, except where the ravine in which it stands unites with the shore; while numerous charming villas peeping from the rich foliage by which they are sheltered, and which conceals them from their neighbours, seemed to have been dropped as if by chance in their several delightful nooks. Two Alpine brooks, splashing and sparkling over their rocky beds, rushed tumbling and foaming through the wooded ravines that open on this sweet village, from the east and south, and threw their waters under ivy. covered bridges, which add additional charms to the rural and picturesque scene.

A short mile west of Lynmouth, or it may be more faithfully described as on the hill above it, is Linton, the tower of whose church we looked on in the distance, as well as over the lovely valley I have named, from the spot where for the moment we had pulled the rein ere descending, the whole forming a picture of wild yet calm and peaceful loveliness, which few spots in the Highlands of Scotland can equal, and few in Switzerland surpass.


"This, then," said I to myself, "is the spot par excellence' to establish oneself for wild red deer-hunting on Exmoor; more suited, I should say, to the wolf or the chamois, the whirr of the woodcock, or the cry of the eagle. Aye, Boreas! what sayest thou to these hills? puzzlers, I fancy, to wind and limb. Dost thou think, my gallant beast, that the hostelry in yon vale," in the windows of which lights like small stars were already twinkling, "will afford something better for man and horse than the Red Deer'?" The latter words were scarcely uttered, than a sharp slap on my back, and the words "I believe ye, my pippin," made me start and turn in my saddle.

"I beg you ten-thousand pardons, sir," said a fine young man, whom I had seen go well in the run, mounted on what I should have pronounced, and soon found to be the case, a strong, well-built, longbacked, short-legged horse, bred on the moor; without exception the best of animals for deer-hunting. "I beg you a thousand pardons, sir; I really took you for Jack-our Jack-Jack of the Moor, a first-rate sportsman, and therefore a first-rate fellow."

"Well he may be, my good friend," said I, "if he can put up with such gentle salutations, however kindly intended, if frequently administered. However, you are pardoned, with all my heart," I continued, laughing: "and as you appear to know these parts well, if there is aught to be had in the village below, of a consoling nature to a tired and hungry hunter, why join me in a capon and a flagon of sack, and welcome."

"Gladly," replied my new acquaintance, "most gladly. Nothing more unpleasant than to eat one's solitary meal alone-nothing more agreeable, after a good day's sport, than to share that meal with a pleasant companion, and that companion a sportsman. As for hunting the red deer, there are few better quarters than the romantic vale into which we are now descending. The accommodation is first-rate; however, you will soon judge for yourself. There are three inns-one at

Lynmouth, hard by the sparkling waters of the Lynn, whither we are bound, and two above the vale, at Linton-such as few could find fault with; the prospect, moreover, is splendid, and all the requirements for man's internal gratification first-rate. The larder is generally well supplied with fish, flesh, and fowl; the cellar can boast of good wine; the attendance and the stabling are admirable; and best of all, under such circumstances, the charges are moderate."

"By St. Hubert! you cause my mouth to water," said I.

"The meets of the hounds," he continued, "when hunting this part of the country, are all within easy distance; in fact, the woods you now look on are the resort of deer; and on the days when a-hunting you do not go, there is ample sport with the rod, for the asking, in the Lynn; though the fish are small, their flavour as regards the eating is excellent. And if you are fond of fine scenery, there is none much finer in all England than that of Exmoor and its wooded vales."

"Your account, indeed, bids fair, sir, for all that man requires," said I, as we halted, after our long descent into the now dark and silent vale, save from the waters of the Lynn, which rushed bounding onwards towards the Channel.

Having dismounted at the hostelry, and delivered our horses into the careful hands of an ostler-who was evidently on the look-out for sportsmen returning from the chase-and seen them well cared for in some first-rate stables, we next sought rooms for ourselves, which were all that a sportsman could desire; and having ordered some creature comforts to be forthwith prepared, refreshed by ablutions from the day's exertions, we proceeded to discuss them.

"I thank you for the pleasure of your company," said I to my new acquaintance, who now entered, and introduced himself as Mr. Leigh; "there appears all, and more of comfort here, than you led me to expect, and I am more than ready to do justice to good cheer." So-enter waiter-off coverss-behold, trout, fried and boiled, fresh from the Lynn, and a salmon peel-yes, a salmon peel, ye gentlemen who live at home at ease, and have the good sense to study gastronomy for the advantage of your own interior economy, as that of your friends-a salmon peel, rosy as a rose in June, fresh as the dew of morning, and firm as a lobster; followed by a haunch of Exmoor mutton and currant jelly. Exmoor mutton and currant jelly? Yes, Exmoor mutton and currant jelly! Read it again, and pause. Do you kuow the meaning of such a gastronomical treat, to a man who has galloped over the moor for twelve miles after a gallant pack of hounds on the scent of a red deer, in the glorious month of September, ye sea-bathers at Ramsgate and Margate-ye loungers on the piers of Dieppe and Boulogne-ye steamboat travellers on the Rhine-ye gamblers at Baden-Baden-ye guttlers (excuse the word) at the now second-rate and expensive restaurants in the Palais Royal? Do ye know-I appeal to such menwhat are the joys of a gallop across the fresh, airy, heather-clad, flower-bedecked moor of Exmoor? Do you know what a cut from an Exmoor haunch means afterwards? Not a bit of it. Well, there is time yet to learn. I have given a hint of the former. As regards the latter, I will, asking the talented author's permission, just quote a few words for your edification from the pleasant pages of Westward Ho!" "Here's a saddle o' mutton! I rode twenty miles for mun yesterday,

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I did, over beyond Barnstaple; and five years old, Mr. John, it is, if ever five years was; and not a tooth to mun's head, for I looked to that; and smelt all the way home like any apple; and if it don't ate as soft as ever was scald cream, never you call me Thomas Burman."

"Humph!" said Jack; "and that's their dinner. Well, some are born with a silver spoon in their mouths."

Not unsimilar was our dinner: the mutton smelt forsooth like an apple-a Ripston pippin for choice-and ate, as the worthy Burman would have said, like "scald cream." The trout I have already described. Add to this fare some bottled cider, like nectar, and a far better glass of sherry than is generally found by the wayside, and who need say Die? Not I.

Such, my good friends, more or less, is the fare to be found in that valley of "sweet waters," called Lynmouth; truly a vale of milk and honey, fresh fish, fat capons, and tender mutton-mun; and as superior to the mistermed Valley of Sweet Waters in European Turkey, and that of the Asiatic borders of the Bosphorus, as is the City of our admirable Queen Victoria, to that of the Sultan Abjul, whom all the fresh air and all the mutton on Exmoor could not make a man of.

But dinner is now over; so let us quit the subject gastronomical, and return to that of sport. With this intent, we drew our chairs towards the open window, and looked on a scene such as I have never beheld save in Switzerland. The moon almost at the full, which had risen above the dark woodlands in a cloudless sky, threw its rays across the deep vale, o'er the sparkling rushing Lynn, and on the broad ocean beyond, showing clearly many a white sail on its calm waters, and the Welsh hills clearly in the distance. I scarcely ever beheld a more lovely and more peaceful scene, and expressed myself enthusiastically. "Yes," said Mr. Leigh, as we puffed out clouds of tobacco, and Devonia claims the fragrant weed, "it certainly justifies your enthusiasm. And yet it is strange how comparatively few sportsmen from afar find their way hence."

"It is strange, indeed," I replied, "the more so, that the sport I have seen to-day is not only peculiar, but exciting to a degree; carries with it more pleasures than the mere hunting, and is to be had at a season which does not interfere with other hunting, that is, the hunting of one's home county. But, in good faith, you appear to hunt more or less throughout the year in this fair Devonia."

"True, of harriers the packs are innumerable, and many first-rate. Those of Mr. T. Daniel, of and the pack of Mr. Locke, of Dulverton, hunt the moor; and rare is the sport they give. The meets of the latter are all in reach of Dulverton; and the former gentleman brings his hounds occasionally to this neighbourhood, and it is to be hoped Mr. Locke will do so likewise. Of fox-hounds I cannot at the moment speak so favourably, but we have had our first-rate sport, and shall again, if a wild moor fox is found. Good the horse and man must be, who can live with hounds capable of killing him. Bring one of your cracks from Melton; the chances are, he would be buried in a bog. But even the best horse and best rider in England would have had his work cut out; in a run, in which

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