to enjoy the gèlifaction-when we came to a full stop about a couple of miles on the other side of Wolverhampton. After waiting patiently for an hour or so, in hopes of going on again, I put my head out of the window (at the peril of my nose), and asked a gentleman in a most eccentric costume, "What might be the matter?" He was a second-class passenger-consequently indifferent as to what might become of him—and was standing whistling "Garry Owen," in a temperature that would have turned a red-hot poker into an icicle! "Be dad," says he, "there's two or three miles of cars smashed to smithereens just in the road we're goin', and a brave lot of boys chopping and sawing away at them to any amount!" The luggage trains always run at night; and wherefore? Because, being unwieldy and crazy, they are constantly meeting with accidents which take place just at a period of time when assistance is most difficult to be met with. I set this down because I've had fifty similar or worse annoyances by railway, which are still lurking in my constitution. If ever the secrets of the railway system see the light, at what a premium crutches will be!

It froze when I made the descent, as well as on my return; and certainly the Tuesday closed as little like the eve of a steeple-chase day as can be imagined. Wednesday dawned too like "winter thorough," but the sun shone out cheerfully, and people thought or said "it would be fit" in the afternoon, and so everybody went betimes to the scene of action. Things did not look very promisingly in the town; and the fact is, the meeting was below the average. Very few ladies were on the course or in the stand; and, although the gentry and yeomanry were in tolerable force, I have seen it better. Precisely at two o'clock, Lord Sefton and Mr. George Payne, the stewards, came on, and then a race over the flat came off, which Lord Chesterfield's minute filly, Jenny Wren, won in a canter, which mended the odour of his lordship's Derby nag, Pam. Soon after this was disposed of, the stewards called the proprietors of horses, engaged in the steeple-chase, into the weighing-house, and took their wishes seriatim as to whether the race should be run or postponed. The "contents" had it, and the note of preparation sounded. A score had been left in; but some of the heavy weights didn't fancy it, and eventually the field came down to fifteen. Betting was very slack--only four or five being backed with any spirit. Of these, foremost was Vanguard, at 4 to 1. They took 7 to 1 about Brenda, the same about The Page, 6 to 1 about Tom Tug, and 15 to 1 about the winner-for a very small sum. Precisely at 25 minutes to 5, the field came together as under:

A Handicap Sweepstakes of 20 sovs. each: 10 ft., and 5 only, if declared on the 17th February; with 100 sovs. added.

Having taken their preliminary canters, in a cruel cold wind, Lord Sefton marshalled them to the post, gave the word, and off they went, at cautious speed. At the third fence Brenda came down, unshipped her rider, and so spoilt her chance. So soon as they began to settle to their work, The Exquisite shot out with a lead of twenty lengths, and so entered the course the first time. Clearing the thorn fence at the distance, beautifully, he charged the artificial brook in front of the stand, and flew it like a deer, followed by Nimrod, Boxkeeper third, and then a body of horses consisting of Vanguard, Peter Simple, Cure-all, and Clansman. All got over well; but the latter, on landing, slipped up, broke his back, and was ultimately destroyed. The race may now be said to be among the lot that are entering for the second round, The Exquisite still with a terrific lead; and though Peter and Vanguard headed him for a moment, he was always going apparently with the race in hand. They are now going in the course again, as before, Exquisite leading a hundred yards; Peter Simple next; but a long way off. There is now but one fence to be jumped-a hurdle placed at the distance. The moment Byrne put his horse at this, he shut up-didn't attempt to go another yard, and let both Simple and Cure-all pass him as they liked. These two now set to, but the latter was more fresh and more resolved, and finally won a very fine race very cleverly. None ran home but the four placed.

The winner is a horse with singularly powerful hind-quarters, and without looking speedy, has the gift of good pace in him. He is by Physician, out of a dam whose pedigree is unknown, and was trained and ridden by his owner, who is well known to Lincolnshire fox-hunters. Had Peter Simple made more running, he would have been nearer winning than he was: Vanguard looked out of stamina, and poor Clansman, as a countryman of his own observed, "like a bag of chaff!" Exquisite comes of a family not famed for stoutness; still it seems that he must have been in some way mismanaged, for he stopped without being collared, and when he was going to the eye as fresh as when he started. The jocks came home without a splash -a proof how iron-bound the ground must have been. When we turned our faces homewards, soon after five, the ground rang like bell-metal. Previous to leaving for the course, having taken a stroll down Lord-street, I returned to my hotel, and observed to a party of obvious sporting propensities-"Well, if they run the steeplechase, and any of the jocks come down, they'll be dashed to pieces like china plates that fall upon a hearth-stone!" As the rider of the winner was one of the lot, probably his protest against starting was the effect of my prophecy. However, it is but justice to say he rode like a man whose ambition of the stakes laughed to scorn all fear of the plates!

EMMA.

ENGRAVED BY E. HACKER, FROM A PAINTING BY J. F. HERRING, SEN.

There is positively no end to the honours and distinctions a winner of the Derby acquires, not only for himself, but every one who has had the good fortune to be in any way associated with his success; among the more prominent we have the man who owns (or who, in turf terms, "belongs to,") the winner of the Derby, the man who trained him, the man who rode him, the smith who shod him, and the breaker who backed him, all hastening along the road to be famous. Breeders, buyers, and sellers, again, trace out the family connection with a care and ingenuity worthy of the would-be heirs of the renowned Jemmy Wood, or any other pupil of Plutus, who started a Nobody and finished a Nabob; and own brothers, half sisters, and third cousins to the winner of the Derby, take their tithe of celebrity directly that happy, ceremony is concluded. On the sire and dam, however, does the sun of their son shine brightest and longest, very materially increasing their value in the eyes of all, but particularly so in the estimation of such as hold these honours; still the Tittlebat Titmouse trick of supposing there is ten thousand a year henceforth to be had out of a mare because she has thrown one Derby horse, though often indulged in, is but rarely realized. Not that we can go on to say it is impossible or improbable; for was not Lord Egremont's Canopus mare the dam of Lap-dog and Spaniel, both winners of the Derby? Mr. Ridsdale's Arcot Lass, the dam of St. Giles and Bloomsbury, both winners of the Derby? and Mr. Bowes's Emma, of Mundig and Cotherstone, also well known for their Epsom achievements? Of these three mothers of heroes our present subject is the only one living, and who, from the doings of her produce, now ranks, as we shall proceed to show, perhaps as the very best brood mare in the country.

PEDIGREE.

Emma, a chesnut mare-the property of John Bowes, Esq., of Streatlam Castle, Durham-was bred by the trustees of Lord Strathmore, in 1824, and is by Whisker, her dam Gibside Fairy by Hermes, out of Vicissitude by Pipator-Beatrice by Sir Peter. Whisker was by Waxy, out of Penelope by Trumpator; her dam Prunella by Highflyer, out of Promise by Snap-Julia by Blank, &c., &c.

PERFORMANCES.

In 1826, Emma, then two years old, and the property of Mr. W. Russell, ran second to the Duke of Leeds's Moonshine for the Champagne Stakes at Doncaster, beating Mr. Ridsdale's Nonplus (3), Mr. T. O. Powlett's Popsy (4), and Mr. W. Fox's colt by Vandyke Junior, out of Selma, Lord Muncaster's The Pet, and Mr. Wyvill's Smacksmooth, not placed. At the same meeting, ridden by R. Johnson, she beat Mr. Yates's Sharpshooter, in a match for £500, 8st. each; 6 to 4 on Emma.