This

Our last interview was attended with a storm of personal accusations and recriminations, and ended in a deadly quarrel between us. was only what was to have been expected, for the turf engenders amongst its votaries mistrust, "envy, hatred, and malice, evil speaking, lying, and slandering," and almost every other vice. We parted in anger, never to meet again. Alas! my poor, affectionate, kind-hearted Jemmy! the truest of friends and most faithful of comrades! how often have I wept over the remembrance of those jovial days of our youth when all was sunshine, and the world which was before us an unexplored mine of unalloyed happiness! A few years after the day of this terrible turf avalanche, that mysterious turf under which lies hidden the "grand secret," and where all are separated-all unitedall partakers of one common lot, he was thrown from his horse whilst hunting and killed on the spot.

never to

As for me, it were useless to prolong my history: let the curtain drop over the remainder of my sufferings. Downcast and fallen " rise again," I am still pursued by the Demon of "bad luck." All my struggles fail, and I am at last contented to take "the ups with down,' and with patience and submission to "bide my time." To those who know me and appreciate me-and there are yet some left that do-I say in the words of the unfortunate Hamlet

To the world in general, and future generations, I say in my own words:

Some here are sent, it's so ordained by God-
To caution others from the road they've trod-
To be our guides, and show the thoughtless throng,
How great the blessings between right and wrong!

Straight is the road—the path it narrow seems ;
But at the end with happiness it teems-
Should you a false step make-deem it not vain
To backward turn-and thence to start again!

PERFECTION:

A PRIZE PONY, THE PROPERTY OF MR. ALLEN RANSOME.

ENGRAVED BY E. HACKER, FROM A PAINTING BY E. CORBET.
BY CASTOR.

Perfection, bred by Major Barlow, at Hasketon, in Suffolk, in 1867, is by Confidence, out of a good, old-fashioned sort of a galloway mare, just under fourteen hands high, once the property of Mr. Brewster.

Confidence, a roadster stallion, standing fourteen hands three inches high, was bred by Mr. Hughes in Lincolnshire in 1858. He was by Fireaway, dam by Johnny Boy, her dam by Flying Buck-Old Marshland Shales. Fireaway was by Fog, out of a mare by Teesdale's Fireaway, by Pagan. Major Barlow brought Confidence out of the Fens into the Eastern Counties, where, however, he only stood one season, when he was shipped for the King of Sardinia. During his sojurn at Hasketon, Confidence was shown at Islington, where he took the second prize in the Hack, Cob, or Pony Stallion Class; and again at the Bury St. Edmund's meeting of the Suffolk Agricultural Society, where he also took a second prize. We ourselves had the honour of acting as one of the judges at this show, when we said: "The two prize roadster stallions were both of a very superior sample. Confidence, the second here, was also the second at Islington, where it was the pretty general opinion that he should have been first. And, to stand alongside of, he is almost a model of the sort; but he was not so goodgoing a strong point for a roadster in which he was beat out of sight by Sir Edward Kerrison's Fireaway, one of the grandest movers ever seen." In Lincolnshire, Confidence has even the further credit of being the sire of some capital little hunting horses; and Major Barlow has a promising three-year-old by him out of his famous old Silverlocks, the best hunting brood mare at the Royal Bury St. Edmund's Meeting; although the mare was also covered by Surplice and Ace of Clubs,, a certain sort of saving clause against breeding a hunter in so heterodox a fashion. Still the produce takes all after the trotter.

The dam of Perfection was sold, with the foal at foot, by auction to Mr. Nathaniel Catchpole, of Whitton, near Ipswich, and in turn the pony was transferred to Mr. Allen Ransome, the head of the well-known implement firm at Ipswich, who, in his own words, "much as he likes a steam-engine, loves a horse still more," and who has always a neat nag or two in his stable. At the Ipswich meeting of the Suffolk Agricultural Society, in 1869, Perfection, then only two years old, took the prize of £5 as the best pony between twelve and thirteen hands high. At the Islington show in the summer of 1870, he took the prize and medal as the best pony stallion not exceeding thirteen hands three inches high, when we reported him as one of the handsomest things we saw out." At the Sudbury meeting of the Suffolk Agricultural Society he again took the prize in the twelve-to-thirteen hands pony class; and at the Oxford meeting of the Royal Agricultural Society the

Corbet

Perfection A prize pay the property of M.: I. Alun Bansome of Iraunch

second prize in a class of pony stallions up to fourteen hands two inches high; when we said, "as a pony, Perfection answered the description best, and ought to have won.' In fact, the conditions admitted animals just two hands higher than Mr. Ransome's pony; and at the November meeting of the Council of the Royal Agricultural Society it was resolved, on the motion of Mr. Milward, that the height in this class be altered from fourteen-two to fourteen hands. Perfection thus looks like becoming a strong favourite for Wolverhampton in 1871.

Perfection is a dark brown pony, standing twelve hands two inches high. He is very handsome, bloodlike and symmetrical, light and corky in his carriage, with excellent temper and fine action. "Had I not believed," says Mr. Ransome, "that for shape, style, and movement he was not easily to be surpassed, I dare not have given him so arrogant a name." Noticeably enough, neither in size nor character does Perfection bear the slightest resemblance to either his sire or dam. The mare has since had two more foals, both of which promise to reach to her own height; and the few things by Confidence left about the Eastern Counties are not only good in themselves, but much after the horse.

In their report to the Journal of the Royal Agricultural Society, the three Oxford " nag" judges thus speak of the pony class: "The two placed are very good "-Mr. Calder. "Two very handsome ponies, with perfect trotting action, such as are rarely to be met with "-Mr. Robson. "The second (Perfection) a remarkably nice pony; really more of a pony than the other, and a very good mover "-Mr. Jacob Smith. It will be thus gathered that, on all sorts of authority, Perfection is worthy of his title.

Everything went on quietly enough for the next few days. Herbert's passion for Clara, in spite of that unamiable young lady's continued coldness, seemed to grow daily stronger, and he paid most assiduous court to her, meeting the Baroness Hilda frequenily enough at the Langmore's, and keeping up with her a flirtation which seemed to be after all just as platonic as in the quiet old childish times at Bonn. Clara was an astounding girl. Herbert and I heard her make some perfectly diabolical remarks to another girl once, when they were talking of love, affection, marriage, and kindred topic. The haughty heauty was perfectly frank, I will do her that justice.

"Love!" she cried, with the most scornful curl of those pouting lips. "I don't understand what people mean by it. It's all very well to get married, but the idea of really caring for a man, and worse still, being fool enough to let him see that you do, is idiotic in the extreme. I am ready to marry when any one comes along who is rich enough, and I don't care how old and ugly he is."

"My dear Clara,” replied her friend, "your cynicism is perfectly