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18 Ninth Sunday after Trinity.r 4 25 22
2 M Royal Yacht London Regatta Week's
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4 W Brighton Races.

5 T Plymouth Races.

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7 S Valenciennes Steeple Chases.

8 Tenth Sunday after Trinity. 9 M Horncastle Fair.

10 T Royal Thames Regatta. 11 W Reading Races.

RISES afternoon.

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12 T Grouse Shooting begins. 13 F

14 S Victoria Yacht Club Regatta.

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19 T Cricket-All England v. Liverpool. r 4 52 1011 39 9 24 10 8 20 F Torbay Regatta. Black cock Shoot- s 7 1111 Morning. 10 51 11 33 21 S [ing begins. r 4 55 12 0 44 No tide 0 14 22 Twelfth Sunday after Trinity.s 7 713 1 57 0 41 1 4 23 M Cricket-All England, at Bradford. r 4 5914

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"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.

Meetings of the Month-Sales and Entries-William Boyce-The Goodwood Cup Day-Hunting Mems-The Berkeley Hunt-The Essex and Suffolk-Mr. Skinner Philippo on Hunting-New Sporting Books - Hawthorne" on the Grouse Prospects-The Two Elevens at Lords-The Show of Horses at Chester.

Carlisle was only attended by some 22 horses, but the racing was the closest ever known. In fact, out of the eight, one was won by half a length, three by necks, and four by heads. The breaking up of nearly all the Scotch studs has played havoc with this meeting. The Edenwashed Swifts is no longer the battle ground of Middleham and Gullane. Sir John Maxwell, General Sharpe, and Mr. Ramsay have all gone; and Mr. Merry trains in Scotland no longer. Still, while Mr. Daley sticks by it, and the wrestling spirit is so strong, it is never likely to go down, but we should like to see the £50 Maiden Plate restored to the list. Dean Close is perfectly powerless here, and instead of finding the people bow before him à la Cheltenham, as if he were a Mahomet, the Cumberland Johnnies "think nowt till him.' Mr. Alford's Doncaster efforts at abolition were just about as effective.

Newmarket July was beyond its usual mark. A struggle between a Kingston and a West Australian opened it very gaily; then came the rousing set-to between Gin and Pandora, which even at 8lbs. makes the mare worse than we thought her, but this could hardly be her Bath form. The two-year-olds of the meeting were a moderate lot. Cynricus was a fair-looking horse, good depth of girth, and sound. His dam, Midia, was bought in-foal with him, for 100 gs., at Lord Exeter's 1855 sale. Stockham seemed trained to nothing; and really, when we remember The Kelpie at Epsom, Tom Parr's right hand seems to have quite lost its cunning. They seem to have no heart, and lob about anywhere. Bastion is very good-looking behind, but has a heavy clumsy forehand. His condition was splendid. Marske is a very good goer, but has no middle, and remarkably suspicious legs, which the bandages made more apparent. King-at-Arms looked beautiful; but Lord Aylesbury's mare Cantine (an 105-guinea Royal Sale purchase) cut him down in the half-mile, and is doubtless very superior at that distance. She jumped about, all over the course; but she seemed to have a good girth, good middle, and sound-looking legs. Fordham rode her with more decision than Nat did in The July. The Newmarketers consider that they have lost a Cesarewitch certainty with Yorkshire Grey, if Colonel Tevis would only have kept him dark. He had him with him at Kars, and the old fellow after smelling powder has returned to his first vocation with wonderful zest. But so it is with the Chanticleers: keep them till

they are aged, and you may do anything with them. It boots not to speak of Hereford, Ipswich, Pontefract (much improved by its change of time), and Worcester, where there was scarcely a feature that strikes one, beyond the uncertain running of the nice level Underhand. Liverpool still languishes, and the sport is fast becoming as mean as the soi-disant sporting inhabitants. The 500-guinea Precious Stone twice over made a dreary failure of it. Lord Clifden got the Liverpool Cup as a reward for his faithfulness to Aintree, Julia making short work of her double Carlisle victor, Satinstone, and finishing in her old second place. The blood of Teddington fared better with Mayonaise, in the Great Lancashire Produce. That plainest and shortest of mares, Target, defeated Blanche of Middlebie for the Bickerstaffe, and Captain White sent all Gildermire's and East Langton's St. Leger hopes to Jericho pretty effectually. Jerry's only hopes of immortality rest on his Jericho grandchildren, but they are sadly too few. Spratton ran out at the last turn, in the Robin Hood Stakes, at Nottingham, where Zitella just failed to give 7lbs. to Woman in Black. It is but seldom we see Alderman Copeland's colours in the van. Would that Marlow once more donned them! We saw him, however, at Goodwood, and he looked light, and walked very well. Pretty Boy, who never fails to win, or run close up for this stake, made a "form revival " in the Nottinghamshire Handicap; the elegant little Lady Kingston did all that was asked of her in two races, but quite failed with Gracchus (who was bred at the Neatherds House, and sold for 000 gs. at Doncaster) when the distance was over half a mile. The Newminsters seem to be fulfilling all that we have vowed in their name, as year after year we have stood out almost alone against The Dutchman mania. Fisherman went away from Prince Royal for the Queen's Plate, almost at the moment that his owner was giving £110 for Highland Laddie, at Chester. It was somewhat strange that Stockwell should score his first stock victory for Lord Exeter, and within hail of Burleigh; but the winner went down in her turn that day, before a daughter of his stable-mate. Borderer's and Fisherman's was as fine a race as that between Gemma di Vergy and Zaidee at Abingdon in the '56 season. Considering that it is Mr. Merry's first effort, he did well to summon three and twenty horses at his call, seeing that Lord Exeter only helped out with two. It is odd to note what a little luck does for a sire. Cynricus, a son of Ambrose, wins The July, and straightway this horse, who was bought in for 790 gs. at the annual Burleigh farce, in 1855, is bought in at 1,600 gs. in 1858. Again the Knight of Kars and Co. do not prosper, and Nutwith, who was then bought in at 1,600 gs., now returns to his stall with 295 gs. on his head. Phlegon then stood at 190 gs., and he has dropped just 15 gs. per annum !

We have nothing to note in sales this month, except that the horses of the Enniskillen dragoon officers, who are ordered off to India, had a capital one at Brighton. There were 40 lots, and they realized 2,500 gs. All sorts came to the hammer-Arabs, hunters, chargers, and hacks; and one grey Arab, not fifteen hands high, was sold for 200 gs. to Lord Cardigan.

The entries this July have been of the most cheering character, and we have seldom seen so many new names amongst them. Mr. T. Parr is far stronger than usual in this line among the old ones, and Mr.

Crawfurd comes well out, along with Lord Stamford, who has thus added a fourth interest to hunting, shooting, and cricket. Since Lord Sefton, no master of the Quorn has kept race horses. If we remember rightly, the St. Leger never reached more than 166 subscribers before, seven of which became void by death before the day, whereas now it has attained to 173. The Oaks has once, if not twice before, done better than 165, and the Derby has only once beaten 234. In these days, when one is fairly sickened of seeing mere "dolls" put up with three stone of saddle-cloths, and jockeys who have borne the heat of the day, standing down; we are glad to find that William Boyce is once more going to take to the saddle, as a profession. The abrupt (to use the very mildest term) manner in which he was forced to quit the Rutland Arms, and the double blight which has fallen on his now widowed home in consequence, have secured for him the deepest sympathy in the racing world. We trust, however, that it will not stop there, and waste itself in mere words, and as he can ride 8st. 3lbs., without wasting, he ought to find many who will give him a leg up. left the turf in consequence of there being such an overplus of heavy weight jockeys; but Butler, Job Marson, Robinson, Marlow, Bartholomew, &c., have one after another been laid in their graves, or retired in consequence of accidents, and hence had he only toiled on, content with twenty or thirty mounts a year, he would now have been well on for promotion. However, it is not too late: youth and unimpeachable integrity are still his; and as far as riding talent is concerned, we need only say that no racing man can do far amiss if he follows the late Duke of Rutland, whose colours he so invariably wore.



A beautiful sunny morning wooed us forth to the Goodwood Cup, and starting at seven, we were soon landed amid the corn fields and the hollyhocks of Drayton. Reapers were at work everywhere, and the vines on the trellised cottages were fairly loaded with fruit. Goodwood seems to have undergone many a change in the last 16 years. We first remember it in its Charles XIIth era, and what a merry one that was! There was no rail, and great and glorious were the parties for the week at Bognor, taking their cool dip, and their hot rolls in the morning; off in four-in-hands, day after day; back to dinner, and a moonlight sit, on the sea-ward balcony, with a cigar, and Hudson's milk punch. O noctes cœnæque Deûm!" as the writers of that time used to say. Brighton has them all now. And then it was half the fun on the course to watch Kent's lot arrive up the valley, and no race ever lacked a skyblue (often two of them), or a yellow, with red cap and golden tassel. Alack-and-well-a-day for the forty racers that were stabled there! Even the very bumpkins, who "kept" the course as specials, were as good as low comedians in their line. They joined staves, they shouted, they talked to their lasses, they watched thimble-riggers (while on duty), and never saw thieving under their very noses; but if five or six did arrest a man by any accident, they made up for it by nearly choking him with his cravat on the spot. The course is very differently kept now, but the thing is not so in character, and it seemed strange to see a fussy London inspector on the hill dispersing all the groups nearly half way up it, for fear the horses should pull up among them, as they did, in fact, in one canter. We know no tableau like the one from that watch tower, the crowded


stand, with its deep green back-ground of summer foliage, the well kept course at your feet, and the scarlet of John Squires (who begins with the cubs on Monday), to give a little bit of colour. The trumpeter, who used to announce from the Duke's side of the stand, that the horses are just coming in sight, must have died, and his trumpet got buried with him. Not a soul was in sight as, an hour before the races, we paced down that long cool vista of beeches, which comes out some two distances from home; the carriages and pleasure vans seem reduced one-half, and we reflected lastly that this mean and fading meeting only gives £955 (Queen's Plate included) to be run for.

Two walks-over began the afternoon. Four-leaved Shamrock, who seems to have had quite enough to do this season, scored the first few pounds that have ever been placed to the credit of the stock of Daniel O'Rourke; and Star of the East, who has got not a little length since we saw him last year, also added his mite to Mr. Bowes's treasury. Then came the Bentinck Memorial, for two-year-olds. Marseillaise is a very fine mare, good at both her ends, but her loins are like a weasel's. Marine is short, but rather stylish; and St. Clarence is high on the leg, looseish in the quarters, and altogether not very promising or true in his make. "The Squire," alas! went but very lame, as, in his beloved lavender trousers and claret coat, he walked up to see him before the Rainbow will make a fine raking useful horse, and has good size about him, though a little lacking in liberty. His hocks are rather far apart, and his colour is a very bad dark grey, with a great white blaze, and a flesh nose: he is not very quick, but never did horse take the whip so gamely, when Wells went at him a distance or more from home.


Then Norman, in his bran new Gratwicke colours, which always look so well on a black horse, got up on the coltish Ethiopian, to meet Compromise, who, both in temper and face and looks altogether, is a pure-bred Alarm; but Sussex was not served that time. For the 50 sovs. all three ran. Sunbeam was a little cranky, though majestic as ever, and firm in her coat; and really Ditto, if he was not quite so straight in the quarters, would be a very nice little horse. Princess Royal improves, and there was Mr. Saxon saddling her himself with the most fatherly care. The following is the report of the race as we wrote it down from the lips of a labourer in a smock on the hill, who was sitting there with his wife, we know not how many olive branches, and the family umbrella ::-"There's three gan! Yonder they goes! Yellow's behind 'em-he aint fur-he'll push it when they gat into the straight coorse! Green and blue is cutting along! Dang! yellow's coming right up afore 'em; blowed if he aint! They'll have a job with him, mind yer. He's gotten up foremost-look at that, Missus! green's lossen all to nothing!" &c., &c. And with that the Missus closed his patriarchal mouth by the offer of a very green little apple from her basket.

The first signs we saw of the Cup were the little clusterings of the Merry party below us, and then it gradually kept oozing and oozing out that their belief in the black was something unbounded. "" The Scotch Ambassador" was quite in a girlish flutter of delight. The horse himself was on the course an hour before the race, ridden in and out among the crowd, in a plain saddle, and no sheets, to harden

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