a different impression ?)—was absolved of his obligation, when it was proved that the horse treated in the market and so backed by him, was, in effect, a different animal altogether. I should have much more difficulty in deciding that it would be in strict keeping with the spirit of honour-the chivalrous reading of high principle, to claim the proceeds of any act of swindling, whoever might be the agent, and however unsuspected might have been the design. But the time has arrived when the ruat cælum system of play or pay contracts must be modified, or farewell to the hope of public money coming into the service of the turf. This case of Zanoni offers as fair grounds for making a stand against it as need be. Let those who backed him previous to the protest declare their intention to scratch every bet upon the Chester Cup having reference to that horse. Let them do so at once, proclaim it at Tattersall's, and stand the ordeal of a denunciation for default. The public must support them the p. p. system is the means, indeed, whereby the legs " do live," and they will make outcry to preserve it entire and perfect per fas et nefas;" but common sense refuses, common honesty rejects the proposition. It may be that the objection made against Zanoni at the eleventh hour, came then from the quarter already alluded to, because no one else had urged it, and in the determination to purge the turf of every appliance of chicane-and to visit the sins of the proprietor on his steed. But the public have nothing to do with this if they backed Zanoni before the objection, they did so on the faith of his nomination standing in the predicament of every other: that it was available to him to give them a chance for their money— failing that, they are fools if they pay. 66 The course I set out by saying the Craven Meeting set in with dog and cat weather the attendance (consequently perhaps, but certainly) was very moderate. The accustomed Craven Stakes did not fill, because in some of the stables there was indisposition, as well as in all the owners of them. The racing commenced with two handicaps of no account, followed by a 50 sovs. sweepstakes won by Lord Chesterfield's nice little Oaks mare Lady Wildair. She came to the post an emblem of the season, and her winning told no flattering tale of the quartette she beat. The match between Minotaur and the Ugly Buck, in which the latter, giving a year and 6 lbs., was scarcely beaten, has been quoted as a proof of The Ugly being in better form than his past year gave promise of. I did not think so. was the D. M. It was only on the Surrey hills he was such a sorry sight. The once notable Riddlesworth, reduced to a match between Mr. Wreford's Goodwood Monimia colt, now high Winchelsea, and Ratafia, upon whom nobody was sweet, the former won in a canter : a horrid bad edition of an event whilom considerable in the books. For the Belgrave Square Stakes they let Kedger walk over, notwithstanding the voice of the moiety was loud in damage of his rising pretensions. Some said he was a brute, which, apart from its contemptuous application, was no doubt true; others that he rejoiced in spavins, which was false; and all averred that his heels were cracked (and his Derby followers also). There was a match in which the once-backed Minx's dam colt was engaged; but as he coughed, it was off: of course his antagonist coughed too. The weather on Tuesday could not have been more villanous had the day been selected for a fête champêtre, or a horticultural exhibition in Chiswick Gardens. The people shut themselves up in the Subscription Room to wager and-talk (we have no such word as the French causer: our vocabulary sadly wants enlarging); and when they set forth for the gala al fresco, it was like the procession of an auto da fé. It were useless to recapitulate the betting my slight and casual allusions to it will answer all our purposes. The sport or amphibious pastime began with a sweepstakes worth £350, which Squire Osbaldiston sacked with a filly, sister to the Devilamong-the-Tailors. If he wants a characteristic name for her, I suggest that she be called "The Abolition of Imprisonment for Debt Bill." The pace was not so bad as the performers gave promise of. In utter temptation of Providence, the betting on the Newmarket Handicap now opened as if the sun was shining, and the ring shaded by a canopy of parasols, instead of cowering beneath umbrellas acting like shower-baths. Fourteen came to the post for it, the winner Vol au Vent being at 10 to 1. The race, I believe, fully answered the views of those with whom and for whom it originated, and will be continued in future years. The town gave £50 towards it, and the Jockey Club the same. This money, if well managed, ought to produce good interest. It may be made the means of inculcating a taste for keeping studs in profitable young men it is a means whereby the unprofitable may be enabled to carry on the war, and pay for their rations; as a spectacle, to what a pitch it may be brought, the experience of a single trial has amply proved. Should the Danseuses Viennoises be in want of beaux, they can be supplied from the cavaliers who equitated in the Newmarket Handicap. The Tuesday's Riddlesworth brought out the celebrated Cobweb colt to run a match with the winner of the previous day's stake of that ilk. This species of Cobweb is so ticklish that they say there was but one workman in the line who knew how to manufacture anything out of it that would stand work, and he is dead. The fabric certainly did look less fine than one could have desired, and was no bargain, as it turned out, at the price. They backed Col. Peel at 7 to 4: it was 700 to 4 the other way. At the best of times training the family of the old mare, even in the hands of old Jim, was the most gingerly of equestrian essays: with three months of frost to herald the début of one of his sons, the situation of his pastor and master must have been far from an enviable one. The remainder of the sport calls for no details. Captain Phoebus-a remarkably insignificant animal-won a sweepstakes; Hyrcanian a match; Idas walked over for a small stakes for studs of his own year; and all was wound up with a match, the results of which thus given in the returns, the reader will perhaps take the trouble to interpret Match 100 h. ft., 8st. 7lbs. each R. M. Mr. Wesley's Counsellor (h. b.) by Mundig-received. and Wednesday was dry and hard at all events, though it was cold enough to give the razors a holiday. The consequence of the defeat of Cobweb was to send him to the antipodes in the Derby betting, and to make some persons fancy his conqueror-an inclination which became more manifest in the course of this afternoon-upon his winning the Column. He may be an Epsom horse; but if so, there is that in him which he was not called upon to produce at Newmarket. The first race was a match between Minotaur and Celia, the former giving 4 lbs. and a year. The mare seems to have gone the way of all Lord Exeter's horse-flesh latterly. Job was never master of a large racing establishment out of luck, or his reputation would not have "got posterity" as it has. Khorassan won a £50 weight for age plate, five starters, whereof four were backed at odds from 6 to 4 to 3 to 1: these are the recreations of the betters round. Then came a match, which "a sort of general horse" called Stoker, belonging to Sir W. W. Wynn, won, and we had the Column Stakes, 27 subs. and 7 to the post. This event may conveniently be specified, because there was some play in it, although a slow affair altogether. Six ran with-or more properly speaking, besides-Winchelsea, who was at 2 to 1 on him at starting. Adrianople being one of Lord Exeter's flyers, of course made the running, leading to the T. Y. C. post; where Tisiphone, a very indifferent young lady at two years old, gave him the go-by, and set agoing her best. At this period of the race Johnny Howlett came out, made it a gallop instead of a canter, "bursted up" the lot, as the Yankees say; and won as he pleased by a vast many lengths. Now, no doubt the half-dozen was uncommon bad; but what more can a horse do than win everything he runs for in a canter? Surely the Dancbury division ought to be in the ascendant, till the Two Thousand comes off, which it will before this "present scribbling" comes out-the worse introduction for't! Thursday really began to put on the appearance of "the season of the year." The list too was a good one. First we had a £50 plate, with nine starters, won very cleverly by Little Finch, one of Col. Peel's lot-not worth an Epsom nomination. This was followed by a match won by Prologue, and then came the feature of the week-a race in which Idas ran. This was a sweepstakes of 100 sovs. each for three-year-olds, 7 subs., whereof one brought a nag to the post-that true sportsman, Lord Exeter. Wood Pigeon was characteristically brought to trial with Idas, as both were maiden horses: strange chance-a stranger to the ring would say that made an animal never seen or tried in public first favourite for the first race in the world! The favourite won a very lazy slovenly race, in a manner to correspond. There was no pace, but the spurs were into him, probably as a reward for his exertions. After this they took 6 to 1 about him for the Derby, whereat I wondered, till I remembered that they took anything they could get about a beast called Coldrenick, whose anatomy was held together by a middle-piece of the circumference of sausage. The Stanhope Stakes treated us to the sight of a racer-Cowl, the gem of the last season's two-year-olds. This splendid colt is not in the Derby; neither in other good things, or he would very probably give his noble owner such an account of his career as did Crucifix of hers. The Cure-putting off the cur-beat Antler for the Claret, in a very racing-like form: the Ditch-in, moreover, is a course to try a nag's mettle. This smart little steed is now in Mr. Robertson's stable-a lucky standing for a race-horse, as experience has often shewn. Everybody was off by Friday, which was consequently—I had almost said, in venomous recollection of Tuesday and its predecessor-just the day for Newmarket Heath, for those who require a bracing for their earthly tabernacles. The list was a most meagre one, containing but two events-the Port and a Chicken handicap. The first of these brought out four of some renown, and produced a slashing run home between Red Deer and Qui Tam, the former just doing it by half a length. Qui Tam was the crack of the lawyer's lot last year, and unless his luck is very bad, he will pay his way in the present. Four also ran for the Handicap, the winner being Queen Mab; the second, by a neck, Poor Soldier. These were a pair of very animating contests, and brought the meeting to a close with a spirit, it must be confessed, which its progress lamentably lacked. In describing the general character of the racing at Newmarket, Byron's phrase, "melancholy and gentlemanlike," comes as pat to the purpose as any conventionalism, though there may be those who would object that even this is tinting it couleur de rose. As a resort for those who relish racing as the palate does olives-from use and custom: as a tryst for the amateur of the turf, who, so to speak, "is to the matter born," it is unequalled in the round world; but by such as regard the course as the site for a holiday merry-making, an excuse for cakes and ale, Newmarket Heath would be assuredly designated as Shakespeare does the heath whereupon was held the meeting of Macbeth and the Witches. "THE DOG WILL HAVE HIS DAY." BY CASTOR. "She had got a little dog, which she had kept tied by a string to her girdle; as I looked at her dog, she very gently drew him towards her with the string : "Thou shalt not leave me, Sylvio,' said she."-The Sentimental Journey. Everybody, of course, by this time has heard of the Dog BillStay a gentleman in the crowd, with a very knowing round hat and very silly flat face, affirms the Dog Bill to be a near relation of the Dog Billy, and we must consequently, at however great a cost, proceed to enlighten him. Once upon a time there were some very good old times, when laws were made like state liveries or the six-foot footmen who wear them-more for show than service; well, in those merry old days, the gallantry with which a gentleman robbed a mail was only equalled by his politeness in plundering a female, the facility with which a genius broke into a private house just excelled by the ability he evinced in breaking out of a public prison, and the swagger and independence with which cracksmen and crackskulls walked the streets such as none but policemen presume to at present. But, alas! this sort of thing was too good to last for ever; a change came about somehow or other, and burglary lost its romance, and robbery found its reward. New lights and new laws increased the dangers and lessened the opportunities; even thimble-rigging became associated with fine and imprisonment, while Turpin's most expressive signal, however well it might have worked on "The Telegraph," would have now but little effect in pulling up the Down Train. The profession owned to all this in no very enviable state of mind; but before yielding outright to hard living and hard labour, they took one long look round, and then, like many a fine flashy fellow before them, came all at once to the dogs. "Your money, or your life!" that old English exhilarating appeal which so many a dashing highwayman has made to the pockets of his patrons, was not forgotten in this new branch of the art. The bait is prepared, the dog's lost, the reward's offered, the stranger's admitted, and then comes this candid composition of impudence and impunity : "That I have ta'en away this old 'oman's dog, It is most true; true that I knows where he is; And now I'll tell you what I'll have your money, or his life-if you don't bleed freely, he does, that's all about it-ten pound down's the word." "Ten pounds! why that's more than three times the value of Bishop of Bond-street's sagacious Tiny." "I dare say it is, and perhaps twice as much as she weighs; but what of that? you knows the terms, and, if it don't suit, why of course I makes away with her in the best manner I can-starts her for Holland in a hoystir barrell, or sends her to Greenidge Fair in a muttonpie manifactory." Gentlemen of England! and ladies too! have you, do you own to, the slightest partiality for raised pies or meat pasties? If so, you will allow me to remind you of the fate of Acteon, who, tradition avouches, was devoured by his own dogs-it's a disagreeable idea certainly, but really, if you don't take care what you're about, you'll be reversing that unhappy man's case some of these fine days. Yet why should money or dog's-meat be made in this way? Why should the affections and the digestion be tampered with like this by a set of wretches who have little knowledge of, or sympathy with, either one or the other? Why, in fact, should you refuse the dogs that protection you give to every other animal? Hares and pheasants have their life-preservers; the fellow that makes free with another man's mutton, will have little chance of saving his own bacon; and setting a robber on horseback, we calculate, will send him to the devil (or the penal settlements) rather faster than the proverb estimates it would a beggar in the same elevated position. And yet the dog-so full of fidelity, instinct, enterprise, heroism, humanity, and all the other fine feelings to be found in the Book of the Passions, or the Percy Anecdotes; our companion by day, and our guardian by night; our ever-ready and willing and able assistant in all our * Poor Tiny, second only to Tiny Tim, though dead in the flesh, still lives in song: "Just seven pounds' dear Tiny' weighs, As I've been often told; And 'Uncle Bishop' proudly says, |