caster Stake, had he not been on the sick list. In the race under consideration, he beat Satirist easily. The Racing altogether passed off with an eclât which gives it a first place amongst provincial meetings.

GOODWOOD this year "surpassed itself" in quantity and quality of sport. Passion put the seal upon her Newmarket performance, by winning the Lavant Stakes, (with 5lb. extra, on her back), very easily. Chatham won and lost a race, running second to Mr. Wreford's Wiseacre (by Taurus, out of Victoria), for the Ham Stakes, on the Monday, and beating Lucy Banks, Straw-hat, and Nessus, on the Thursday for a Sweepstakes, T. Y. C. Orelia justified her backers, and verified her Liverpool running by beating The Corsair, St. Francis, and a large field for the Goodwood Stakes; and Charles the Twelfth carried off the Cup, after a beautiful neck and neck race with The Recorder and Hyllus. Hyllus has since been matched against him for £1000 asidebut I do not think that their relative positions will be in any wise altered. The Recorder is a good horse when in the humour. Launcelot broke down in a four-mile race for the Three Hundred Sovereign Stakes, and it was not alone bad judgment, but, in my opinion, cruelty, to have started him under the circumstances.

DONCASTER had fallen to so low an ebb, that it became, this year, a question whether the Meeting should be continued in the Calendar or not. Lord George Bentinck's determination, however, drew blood from the stoney hearts or heads of the Corporation. I have yet some hopes of seeing Doncaster recover from its state of suspended animation, by the efforts of the "Humane Society," who conducted the treaties with the Corporation. These gentlemen have now practically illustrated the truism, that money makes the mare (quære Mayor?) to go."

The only "event" of the week was the surprising (?) defeat of Coronation, which, as I have said before, did not much astonish me. My

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guess" of the winner, however, tended towards Middleham-and I still hold to the opinion, that he would have won had he been well enough to start. John Day declared after the race that he had never crossed a stouter-hearted horse than Coronation.

The NEWMARKET OCTOBER MEETINGS closed a brilliant season brilliantly; they offered however but little to be noticed in a summary of this nature except insomuch as related to the two-year-old running. Chatham (the Hester Colt), won the Buckenham Stakes just as he liked. Lord Bruce's Rosalie colt, with John Day and 3lb. extra on his back, carried off the Hopeful cleverly, and the Rutland Stakes very easily. Attila beat Wiseacre and Chatham for the Clearwell; and Chatham beat Wiseacre, Barrier, and six others, very easily for

the Criterion. Lastly, the Colt by Touchstone out of Joanna, carried away a T. Y. C. Plate from Henri Quatre and a weak field of eight.

Of all these, Chatham is unquestionably the best public performer, but he is not a Derby horse to my eye, and certainly no great bargain at tens to one!-Of the lot I should prefer Attila, if he stands training.

RIDDLESWORTH.

SKETCHES OF PROVINCIAL JOCKEYS.

"When the seasons onward haste,

And hushed is the keen north gale;

Then daily we mount the flannels, and we waste,

And merrily we hie to scale.

Till the heaviest of us who used to weigh,

In winter hours eleven;

By physicing and starving say,

We can saddle at eight stone seven.

"From the bonny brees' of Ayr,

To the banks of the winding Dee;

From Tattenham corner' to Aintree fair,

And the Goodwood T.Y.C.:

Past the Egham and Ascot stands,

Neath the gaze of Old England's pride;

Past the Old Red House, and the Turn of the Lands,'
Like merry mery men we ride."

JOCKEY SONO.

THERE is scarcely any class of men with whom time seems to work so few changes, as the Jockeys of England. To me they seem just the same race that they were fifteen years ago. Go to Newmarket, and Robinson and Conolly canter past you with the same figure and seat they have had for years. Go to York or Manchester, and there is still the same Bill Scott, the same Tommy Lye, that you always remember there. True it is, that Scott is rather more nervous than he used to be, and that "old Tommy," as small boys and newspapers irreverently term him, is a little greyer; but in spite of all this they are the same as they have always been. Some few changes have taken place. Dockeray, Sam Day, Sen., Wheatley, and I believe I may almost add, Chifney, have "declared overweight," and retired. Robert Johnson now confines himself to training Bee's-wing, and making

The death of the Rosalie colt, at Newmarket, having broken his back, in being cast, to be fired, occurred after this article was in the hands of the printer,(ED. N. S. M.)

eloquent speeches on tables in the Grand Stand when she wins; while many of his late cotemporaries, Shepherd, Oakley, and John Jackson, have died in a ripe, but poverty-stricken old age.

Young Sam Day and Twitchett, have left a blank among the light weights, not easily to be supplied; while only two years ago the grave closed over the mortal remains of Arthur Pavis. Many have betaken themselves to foreign climes, and either astonish by their skill the holiday folks on the Champ d'Elysees; or superintend studs in Germany, that bid fair to outstrip even the legendary spectral steeds of the Wild Huntsman, and the Erle King, with their Acteon and General Chassé colts. Nimrod's remark in his celebrated "Turf, Chase and Road" article, viz., "That there are more Edwardses at Newmarket, than there were Cæsars at Rome;" would be sadly inapt now. George and Charles still train and ride for the Duke of Orleans, while "Old Harry," has transferred his services to Prince Poniatowski, and the "course of the gay Florentine," leaving William the solitary representative of the name at Newmarket.

Though, however, little Billy Boyce, and many other young'uns have taken their departure for other lands, hosts of light weights have sprung up in their places; and Lord George's little favourite Howlett, stands at the head of a generation of which, Francis Stagg, Pettit, Percy, and W. Day, are no mean components. I shall not however dwell long at Newmarket, most persons are acquainted with the electric rush of a Robinson, the graceful seat of a Conolly, and the purely correct riding of a Chapple,-while the coolness of Nat, the judgment of John Day, and the strength of Darling, can never fail to impress all lookers on with admiration.

"Still the silver fountains sing,

As they sang before the king."

says L. E. L. in her beautiful " Masque of Cordova," and still I may say, do these heroes ride with unwonted vigour as merrily as they have always done.

Of the Irish Jockies, history sayeth little. True it is, that Dogle, Mocken, Keegan, and Ryan, work away like lamplighters among the Angleseas and Challenge Whips; but strange to say, their Irish masters never bring them over to this conntry, and if we may judge from the run upon them, Calloway, Cartwright, and Stagg, are greater favourites than any of them, even over their native Curragh. While Mr. Ferguson's "Ivon Jacques," has of late, both with his riding and training, astonished the natives, nearly as much as his master and Harkaway did the English, in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and thirty eight.

Pass we then on to the "second classmen," those who dwell more on

the far north; those who seldom cross the mile bottom, in a fearful scurry for the Cæsarewitch Stakes, and who, unlike some of their more aristocratic brethren, do not confine their sphere of action to four or five meetings, but ride at all engagements from Eglinton Park down to Epsom. Foremost among these stand, in my opinion, a goodly trinity, consisting of Holmes, Marson and Templeman. To many who will, no doubt, blame me for not admitting Lye, I answer, that few owners approve of a jockey getting tired before his horse, which I suspect Mr. Lye invariably does, when he has a hard contest, and a strong opponent. Few men have been worse treated at times. One writer not very long ago remarked that Mr. Lye's "attempt to lift was nothing more than a foot and a half of yellow silk, and three feet of wash leather in convulsions;" while the hubbub which arose when Major Yarburgh engaged him to ride Charles XII for the Doncaster Cup, must be fresh in the memory of every turfite. Although I do not agree with the remarks of a Sunday paper on that occasion, when it asked with some tremendous notes of interrogation, who can ride seven stone with greater strength, yet I do think that the way in which he steered Traffic for the Nursery Stakes last year, and the high confidence confided in him by the Duke of Cleveland and Lord Eglinton, speak volumes in his favour. No man has a more awkward seat, few have a better judgment of pace, although the manner in which he rode Bellona for the last Chester Trade Cup, amply confirms the old adage, "Nemo omnibus, &c." I have always thought John Holmes a powerful, though not a brilliant jockey-his riding is correct and nervous, but I do not remember that he ever set the Grand Stand in a roar, by making any great point. I have often seen him maintain a good contest from the distance, and win by a head at last; but never saw him attempt a brilliant rush on the post. Few inen, when he is not too severely wasted (I am afraid rather too common an occurrence), can hold a raw two-year-old together with greater strength, or serve out refreshment to a lazy one with equal zest. Since the days of General Chassé, he has not achieved many particular victories, with the exception of the Oaks with Miss Letty. He seems a great favourite with the Scotts, and shares with Nat nearly all their country riding. His performance on Van Amburgh, at the Derby, was much praised, while the powerful manner in which he held Maroon "to orders," will always be remembered by those who unluckily forgot to back "Scott's Lot," that time. Twice this year, among his other victories, has he "nicked it" on that lucky colt Attila; we say "lucky" advisedly, when I consider that in this colt's four races, of which his backers think so much, all his dangerous competitors have been virtually "hors de combat." Marion, the victorious Chester filly, slipped down on her haunches with Stagg, at the Pottery Cham

pagne.

Cabrera, too, the best Scotch two-year-old out, was amiss, and got an exceedingly bad start for the Doncaster ditto; while Shipton, a flying winner at York and Stockton, and a good match performer besides, hardly got any at all in the Two-year-old Stakes, and Chatham had to give him half-a-stone in the Criterion.

Since Lord Westminster's new administration, Marson has, according to the newspapers, taken Holmes's seat. Whether the change is for the better, it is not within my province to determine. Of Marson I know but little, as he has not been in very general repute till this season, during which he has "starred" it pretty considerably with Charles XII. He has a fair seat, and an extra quantum of coolness at the finish. This last quality was eminently displayed in the Goodwood Cup, and in a race on Kingston Robin against Mann, at Warwick. This latter performance was particularly praised by all who saw it. I am not much disposed to prophecy any event at six months date, but I cannot help thinking that if Delamere Forest gallops answer as well as the Pigburn, that he and Auckland will stand a splendid chance for enrolment among the Gallery of Derby Winners next May. A finer and more bony colt than Auckland I have seldom beheld, and Lord Westminster may think himself lucky that he escaped his railway accident in his youth with only a slight scalding.

What shall I say of Sam Templeman, but that he still rides as he always did, well-sometimes brilliantly. I do not like his seat much, as it does not give me the idea of great power. In this point I consider him inferior to either Holmes or Marson, although, as a finisher, I like him better than either. Mr. Meiklam still finds him plenty of business, principally in Scotland, where the old gelding Wee Willie seems of late to have been enacting the part that Darling and the "gallant grey" did in England last season. He does not ride nearly so frequently as either Lye or Cartwright, as he never, if my memory serves me, goes to scale under 7st. 12b. I always considered him a tender rider-a good punisher when needed, and never guilty of applying the "Brummagem" and whipcord unnecessarily, à la Cartwright-Notwithstanding this failing, I must do Cartwright the justice to say, that for seat he is unequalled among his Northern brethren. One thing I have particularly observed in him, viz. that from his great ambition to draw things fine, he has lost many races, and made dead heats when there has been no earthly necessity for it. Bee's-wing has certainly been his "Lady Patroness" for some years past, and been both the means of bringing him into notice among sporting men, and into scrapes with the Newcastle people, for no sooner has Bee's-wing suffered defeat over the Town Moor, than he is placed instanter on the three horns of a dilemma;—either he cheated, or made play too soon, or vice versa, did not make it soon enough. Disparage Bee's-wing in the presence of a Newcastle man, and you

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