A WEEK AT NEWMARKET.
BY RED ROVER.

"New schemes and new fancies we meet with in life,
To day perhaps friends, but to morrow at strife.
Such wonders as these shall not trouble our mind,

Whilst spirit and joy on the race-course we find."

THE close of the racing season of 1841, though accompanied with as bad weather as was ever witnessed, recalled to our mind most fully the good old times, and inspired us with the hopes that we may yet look on their like again. The races and matches throughout the Houghton week were generally well contested; the number of horses brought out to earn their hay and straw unusually large, and almost all the races had considerable interest attached to them. Saturday too furnished a feast satisfactory to the greatest gourmand, and the list of the week comprised sixteen races, twenty-six matches, and eleven matches paid or off by consent. Who can now say that the spirit of the turf is in the

"sear and yellow leaf?"

That the running of the two-year-olds during the meeting is a criterion to go by in 1842, is not quite worthy of trust, as no doubt on light ground, many may appear in different form from that which they exhibited with the turf fetlock deep. One thing is certain, it discovered the good bottomed and strong ones, the great test of goodness-while it threw away all chance for the weeds and the soft-hearted.

Though not disposed to interfere with the accounts given by other correspondents of the week's sport, nor wishing to rehearse the capital accounts with which Bell's Life has favoured the world at large, the cacoethes scribendi tempts me to say a few words on some of the very prime nags which there came under my observation.

Our sporting poet, Somerville, launches forth in praise of the steed, though I question much whether he ever saw it in its glory at Newmarket.

"Hail, happy Britain, highly favoured isle,
And heaven's peculiar care to thee 'tis given,
To train the sprightly steed, more fleet than those
Begot by winds."

But it is at Newmarket, whether in the morning parade on the heath, or when stripped for the contest, that we see the elite of the turf, without bustle, trouble, or interference.

It was with anxious eyes that the stripping for the Criterion was looked for; it being the last time that the "cracks" were to appear in their two-year-old form. Chatham looked well, and is a fine bright chesnut without white, with good legs, but not the best back in the

world. It was decidedly a very good performance to win easily at the top weights. Barrier, a very strong black horse, but far from up to the mark, by all outward and visible signs, ran gamely. Wiseacre, a plain dark chesnut horse, appeared stale, and does not look like improving; not so Robin, who is a corky wiry neat little nag, and will see a better day. Timoleon is a big black, more fit for a hunter than a race horse (as indeed all the Sheet Anchor's turn out), Eusebia, a pretty little chesnut with curbs; and Meal, who looked ill, with Lord Exeter's well-worked nag, composed the field, and assisted in looking at the winner, as they took but little share in the struggle.

Few sights can equal, none surpass in effect a large field of horses running abreast over the flat. This year's Cambridgeshire afforded such a sight to the spectators. Well might one exclaim in the words of the old ballad:

"I looked east, I looked west,

I rode both south and north,

And there did they the worst and best

In all their pride come forth.

Yet still it was a glee to trace

The agitation of that race.

A right gay, glad some sight to see,
Such a grand goodly company."

But in the review of such high bred nags, there is but little time for thinking, less for exclaiming. In truth our optics have plenty to do. There goes Melody, the great unnamed, with John Day on, him looking confidence itself. His condition looks perfect, if his bad forelegs can but carry him up the hill. Here come the two handsome dark chesnuts, Cruiskeen and Retriever, with the old Corsair sailing under changed colours, and groggy Broadwath. That's I-am-not-aware, so often first favourite, very neat but very slow. "Hilloa! take care Orange." What's Orange? oh! it's the big gelding Compensation: his action is good, but his heart is in the wrong place; with the weight he should be handy. That's Lord Chesterfield's leggy nag Henri Quatre, and there go little Wardan and the Cesarewitch winner, true samples of the illustrious Priam; but the weight will this time stop her, and Melody is tried to be the best.

What is that big bay horse and slashing goer? "that's the Irisher Vulcan," shouts Ginger, "and not a bad'un either." Well there are twenty-three out, and as the weeds are not worth wasting time over, let's be off-they will soon get together. Now comes such a galloping of nags and breathing of nostrils. The last odds are laid in the ring and expectation is at the highest pitch. Two false starts-they're off-no -another false one. Now they're off, and a capital start, all in a line; see Compensation forces the running at a fair pace, the gelding still eads. Now they are near the bottom of the hill, and Henri Quatre is

leading with Melody close to him, the tail begins clearly. Melody leads, Compensation is going well, what an awful lot they are coming up. Melody can win; no, John is at work. Compensation's beat, Melody does it. No, Vulcan comes up, Melody's beat, Vulcan wins; Vulcan by two lengths. Hurrah! cry the Irish division. Hurrah! cries Receiver General Lord Miltown, and "who'd have thought it," and "how odd," are in the mouths of the backers of the Stockbridge stable. Vulcan from his previous running was before the race considered hardly worth looking at; but on inspection there is not a horse in Newmarket combining more strength and speed. He is a very fine. topped horse, deeper in the girth and more powerful in the loin and back ribs than any horse going. His beating Scutari and Cameleon also showed him to possess a very good turn of speed; though I should say the ground was much in the favour of his strength and lasting qualities. He is quite the sort of horse to become invaluable as a stud horse, his blood combining the Lottery and Teniers.

After these two important races, we had a succession of interesting matches,-of which one of the chief was that between Cameleon and Potentia; the mare from her running for the Duke Michael made her party very sweet, and she was sold for an enormous price £1500 to a new beginner. She is a very fine chesnut mare of great size, but with curby hocks. The horse however showed ber the way, and won easily.

Great too was the interest in the great match between north and south, i. e. The Squire and Ralph. Both had shown themselves good ones, and were backed heavily, and came to the post as well as could be. The game grey, however, beat his companion by sheer stoutness and pluck; as the pace was very great, and the ground dreadfully deep. There seldom have appeared two neater little nags than these two, and both promise to add fresh laurels to their present fame, and show that greatest of all excellencies, the power of running on. Skipton, a very wiry bay nag, and the first of Stockport's get, showed himself no bad one, in beating the three-year-old at even weights. He looks much like improving, and is remarkable for his action in his hocks, which twist in and out in a singular manner; when extended, however, his action is very good. Among the other good two-year olds at this meeting, I must not omit the colt by Touchstone, out of Joanna, now in Scott's lot, a very racing-like colt, and taking much after his sire; Rochester also, and Envoy, who ran the dead heat for the Nursery, were far from bad-looking. Rochester is the best which has as yet appeared of the crack Rockingham's produce. This handsome horse is now lost to us; but the price given for him certainly was a stiff one. To say that breeding is going down hill, and is a bad speculation, appears rather an ungrounded assertion, if we look for a

moment at the prices at which some of our horses have this year changed owners. To wit-Rockingham, £3,000, Llanercost, £2,800, Physician, £2,500, Muley Moloch, £1,600, Potentia, £1,400, Bloomsbury, £1,000, Maroon, £1,040, The Shah, £1,000, Epirus, £800, Slashing Harry, £400, Abraham Newland, £200, The Corsair, £680, Johnny, £600, Orelia, £600, Belgrade, £500, Walker's six mares £1,200 at least, Lord Jersey's four mares, Trampoline, Adela, Alea, and Glenara, upwards of £1,200, and dozens more, which want of space forbids my mentioning here. But to return to my subject, had the weather been better, I verily believe the Houghton meeting would have been carried into another week. Every one seemed alive to the sport, and long may such spirit last; it is only to be hoped that 1842 may open well. That 1841, barring the bad settling for the Derby, was a good season for racing, and the meetings generally well attended, will be, I think, a resolution carried unanimously.

Whilst in these parts, I took a peep at the stud horses, then standing at Newmarket, and first of all at Cæsar, whom I had not seen since his appearance in prime twig for the Riddlesworth, when he beat Euclid. One might journey far, very far, before meeting with his equal in beauty; though small, he is very likely to get racers, and this year has had some very good mares sent to him. Take him from his faultless head, to his hind quarters, it is impossible to find fault with him, and his legs are short-jointed and good; the pastern bone, which was split, is now completely healed, and he is quite sound, though disfigured in that leg. His half brother, Glenorchy, neither proved himself so good, nor equals him in symmetry, but would make a good light weight hunter. Achmet (whose half-bred colts are good), was gone to Hampton Court, he too is much fancied, but is not SO handsome as Cæsar, and has a good deal of white about him. Belonging to Lord Henry Seymour, but standing at Newmarket, is their near relative, Ibrahim, a dark brown horse, very much of the Bay Middleton cut, particularly about the head, neck, and forelegs. He is no favourite, which is no wonder, and as he is not allowed by his noble master to be put to half-breds, he had not one single mare put to him last season. This law was also extended to his stable companion, and superior in every point, Royal Oak, who was sent from France with Ibrahim, where they were doing well. For racing purposes (except with very speedy light mares) Royal Oak is not suited, but as a country stallion he is invaluable. He is a dark brown, without a spot of white, with legs of enormous substance, and very short, good middle and shoulder, and a good, though large head,-but rather too wide in the chest; in fact he looks a model of a heavy weight hunter. Slane is about the only crack nag of his get, and he was a superior runner. With the Sultan, Langar, or Partisan blood, Royal Oak would make

the best cross. Luckily I caught a sight of the crack, Liverpool, now in the zenith of his fame, before he left Newmarket; nor was I disappointed, as in him I saw some capital points. His head is beautiful, and set on a crest, which equals in height the Godolphin of former days. He has the shortest and best back possible, and good quarters, though rather short, which would appear more so, no doubt, but for his short tail, which gives them a better appearance, his legs too, though not large boned, are wiry, and his hocks are pretty good, but rather straight. Economist, of Harkaway fame, was also there, under the guardianship of a most original Irish Cyclops. He shows the effect of work sadly on his forelegs, which are bunged and puffed, till all shape has left them, and the near foreleg was broken, too, on the Curragh. He is a good bright bay, with a plain head, and short neck, longish in the back, and capital quarters. All his foals, which I have seen, are very long below the knee, which is not however his fault. That little horse, Kremlin, also was there last season; but is sold to Mr. Robinson, of High Wycombe, and is intended for improving the breed in Oxfordshire, a very questionable chance; to be sure, there are few countries where so few stud horses travel, as in that county; and consequently very few good nags are bred. Last season a mean little horse, John Doe, by Pantaloon, a big chesnut, Dulcimer (formerly Mr. Price's), by Muley, out of Dulcamara, and two weeds, Viceroy by Phantom, and Frederick, by Sultan, out of Aspasia, were all that the Oxfordshire farmers had to choose from. For any speculating person, there is a capital opening in that county, as it is a great hunting one, and horses. command a good price, both from the proximity of the university, and the abundance of country gentry.

In Yorkshire, Lincolnshire, and Warwickshire there are plenty of the best stallions, too many almost; whereas in Oxfordshire there is not one first-rate horse suited to improve the breed of hunters. At Newmarket, I should say, the number of mares sent to the horses is very small, and several of them can hardly pay their expenses. I failed in seeing Bentley and Buzzard, both quite second-rate, and their stock, with hardly an exception, are plain and bad. The halfbred stock by Old Buzzard are, however, good, and make useful hunters. The buildings and paddocks adjoining to Crockford's house are the best in Newmarket. There were only three mares there -old Emma, by Orville; a weedy leggy mare, the dam of the quondam crack Bamboo; and a pretty bay mare, by Aaron. In the county of Suffolk breeding is quite at a discount, indeed, both that county and Cambridgeshire are but little adopted to it, as so much is given up to corn land and partridge shooting, that hunting is quite a secondary consideration. I did not hear of any country horses in those parts,