THE OMNIBUS.

"There he sat, and, as I thought, expounding the law and the prophets, until on drawing a little nearer, I found he was only expatiating on the merits of a brown horse."-BRACEBRIDGE HALL.

WAY BILL: Resumé of the Month-Sales-The late Mr. Drinkrow-Meetings of the Month-Coursing-Dr. Shorthouse-Hunting-Death of Her Majesty's Head Keeper-The late Mr. Foljambe, Job Marson, and Tom Lockyer.

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o one can say that December has been dull. Flat racing has gone on, as if among the flowers of May; Dr. Shorthouse has been conducted to prison, by virtue of a sentence so stupidly illogical and severe, that even the lovers of "the accursed blood" sympathise with him; the gallant old admiral has had some very severe operations, and then "eat his corn as if nothing had happened; an ex-steward of the Jockey Club has been posted in the forfeit list as owing about five thousand; and nineteen hundred foals have been returned in Wetherby's Book Calendar, with own brothers to Cymbal, Restitution, General Peel, and Pero Gomez amongst them, and own sister to Achievement. Mr. Cookson will have a strong Doncaster lot of eleven Macaronies with half brothers to Formosa, Regalia and Kettledrum. The latter appearance is rather a novelty as Kybla has been most persistent in throwing fillies. Our old friend Charley Alford of the Doncaster Cock a Doodle Doo meeting in Voltigeur's year, has also been squaring up, in his spectacles at Dr. Temple, and writing to the Archbishop of York, to demand that the Doctor should be catechized. He says he does so, in his capacity of "bishop of the Church of England," and it seems that he has been out in that capacity at Victoria for a short time, and returned because those who sent him out, had very hazy notions about salary.

The month opened with a meeting, and request (signed by Mr. John Frail and sundry clerks of courses) to the Jockey Club to reconsider their position as regards the abolition of selling stakes, but with no hope of hearing anything to their advantage. These races were a clumsy invention at best, and only a few months since we saw 20 gs. most palpably extracted from a buyer by an auctioneer, who took another bid quite out of time. We should like to see a fifth of the race meetings cleared out of the list, instead of there being any premium upon maintaining them. As it is, fees and gate money must be their muscles and

arteries. The first Monday of the month brought Mr. Pryor's horses to the hammer at Tattersall's, when 22 realized 3,880 gs., and a very good clearing price it was. Friponnier and The Rake (who has never run since the "blood-vessel Derby ") were not among the lot. Qui Vive, a smart, little "racing pony in his day, made 50 gs.; and the handsome Pirate Chief, by Buccaneer (130 gs.), was wondrously cheap. Grimstone, one of the prettiest two-year-olds we ever saw, but now a gelding, went for 400 gs., and Rama, sister to Veda, for 700 gs. Two fillies and a colt out of Gratitude, The Earl's dam and Cambuscan's dam, just ran up to 1,000 gs., or 360 gs. less than they cost at the yearling sales this summer. Why Mantilla, a mare hardly equal to half-a-mile, should be bought in at 1,350 gs. was the riddle of the sale! Thirteen of Mr. Crawfurd's hunters averaged 178 gs.; and 400 gs. for Satire and 310 gs. for Black Sam showed what good stuff this well-known welter-weight rides over Leicestershire. The Shaver and Father Matthew were great horses of his twenty years ago, and he has never stuck at price. Sometimes he seems to veer towards hunting and then again to racing.

Winter interfered with the Croydon Meeting when it was half-way through, and the authorities in vain tried to stall it off with stable manure on certain parts of the course. A portion of London arrived on a fool's errand and had to return, and the stewards, after a few races had been run on Friday, had to postpone the rest till the Monday. The Grand Metropolitan Steeplechase was then a succession of blunders, and the winner, Chevy Chase, who kept the right side of the flag and won by fifty yards, pulled up lame and nearly fell. Droxford

couldn't do right. When he won a maiden steeplechase he was objected to on the ground of not being a maiden, and when he wound up the meeting by showing temper, and running last to Lord Waldegrave. The populace hooted Mr. Edwards most vigorously. Then the "ayes' had it, and they cheered him.

Then we have Mr. J. J. Ellis, of Craven House, Hampton Court, informing The Times that Cymbal, the hope of Kettledrum, is his and not Lord Westmoreland's; and the heart of the same paper was stirred on the subject, and the winter surburban meetings, and the little good they do to horse breeding or anything else. It was, also, announced that St. Mungo, Mr. Merry's best, which broke down early in the season, was sound and apparently walking as well as ever about the Russley paddock. Tom Oliver, we fear, will want the aid of his ashen plant for some time to come. Late in the autumn as the horses were finishing exercise; he went up to Charley Marlow, who was on Thornapple, and gave him a few mushrooms he had picked, during the walk, to carry home for breakfast. As he turned away, the colt let fly, and caught him on the top of the thigh, which has become callosed and rather troublesome; but he still walks very fairly. The sale of Camel was announced at a high figure, said to be 6,000 gs., to Lord Roseberry, who was described as a young British nobleman, a member of a wealthy family connected by old traditions with the turf." After all this roundabout description, the report proved mere moonshine. The news of Admiral Rous's illness made every one feel how ill we could do without him, and never were bulletins looked for more anxiously than Sir Henry Thompson's. Those who knew poor Mr. Drinkrow