when we left on the Wednesday. The four-year-old hunting geldings were a poor class, and we should have put the Artillery horse before the special prize, of whom it is only fair to say that he was first in a three-year-old class at Wetherby, and commended in a miserable one at Islington. When in Yorkshire we spode of him as dragging his hind legs behind him, as if he were ashamed of them-in fact, he is worthy of his sire.

The mares were not grand, there being only four, and Jessica a long way the best-looking. Byron, a three-year-old, is a useful deep-topped animal; while the second is very neat, or almost too neat to grow into anything very good as a hunter. There was something taking about Brian Boru, but he was full of flesh, and we want to see him on ground where he can be let out in his stride, if he has any. Terrona is a great local prize-taker, and Mr. Murray's third is of nice form; while Mr. Cockburn's The Van, Mr. Filde's Cornet, and Mr. Wilson's Rufus,

are not of a bad sort.

The roadsters' judges commenced their duties in good time with the stallions, the red riband going to the one-eyed old Fireaway, who was first last year at Wetherby, with his son, Sir Edwin Landseer, second. Fireaway would have been first at York a year or two back if he had not been disqualified from lameness by the veterinary surgeon. Ambition, though coarse in his shoulders, is about the straightest goer of the Norfolk trotters; but anyone would have thought that the judges would have been satisfied with one Norfolk nag, when there was such a horse as All Fours, even with his poor feet, in the ring. Norfolk trotters, as we have often said, are no loves of ours whilst Fireaway and All Fours are without lumber, model roadsters full of that character for which Yorkshire is so famous. The form and action of these two old heroes of the ring are better known to many a tyke than the very Minster at York. With stallions and brood mares there should be always some allowance made for age when judging of action, as we cannot expect an old one to be as fresh as a three-year-old, and must not be too ready to sacrifice form on that account. Young Ebor, in the coaching stallions, is a fine upstanding muscular horse of substance, and a mover, and he also was first at Wetherby; but the second, Octavian, is back at the knee, and queer-looking about the hocks, as decidedly out of his place with such a horse as The Hadji behind him. Each horse, as well as man, in his time plays many parts, and only fancy The Hadji, with his elegant form and stylish action, going begging for a third place among coachers! He is by Faugh-a-Ballagh, out of Athol Broze, by Orlando, and ran third to Beadsman in the Derby, second to Sunbeam for the Leger, won the Union Cup at Manchester, was first in thoroughbred stallions at the All Yorkshire one year, and in 'sixty-seven was the best hunter stallion at Manchester, when we gave a full description of him. Still, he has fallen away very much since we last saw him, although in spite of this we should have put him before most of the hunting stallions if he had been in the class. In the stallion ponies, one was a strong one and the other a long one, to suit different tastes; but of all the ponies there was nothing approaching Mrs. Levita's grey gelding Taffie for beauty, and we photographed him in 1867, when he beat a much grander class, as the handsomest we had seen for many a day. He most decidedly

should have been shown to the Princess of Wales. British Queen, a roadster mare, was duly elected here as at Leicester, though after that victory she had to put up with a second place to a very ordinarylooking maid-of-all-work at Wetherby. Old Crafty, coming under fifteen one, added another first to her lengthy score, was looking very fresh for her age, and sold during the week. Ginger is a long cob, up to weight, and Mr. Murray had two good-looking ones in Perfection and Robin Hood. A bay gelding, showing some blood, was the champion in the four-year-old roadsters not exceeding fifteen hands, as he had been several times previously about Leicester and Rutland. Rufus, the second, was a lengthy chesnut, and could step; while Mr. Casson was deservedly commended for a nice-looking roan hack; but Mr. Bullough's Bob, who had often been to the fore, was out of luck here. The carriage and brougham pairs were nothing to speak of; while Mr. Coulson's appropriately-named old mare, Venus, kept her customary place in a small but good class of Clevelands.

THOROUGHBREDS, HUNTERS, AND HACKS.
JUDGES (and for Hunters).—

W. Smith, Melkington, Coldstream, N.B.
H. Thurnall, Royston.

W. Young, Norwood House, Beverley.

Thoroughbred Stallion, suitable for getting Hunters.-First prize, £100, the Earl of Zetland, Aske, Richmond, Yorkshire (Carbineer); second of £25, J. Casson, Burgh-by-Sands (Motley); third of £10, C. and J. Moffat, Kirklinton Park, Carlisle (Laughing Stock). Reserve and highly commended: F. Barlow, Hasketon, Woodbridge, Suffolk (Dalesman). Highly commended: Sir G. Cholmley, Bart., Howsham, Yorkshire (Angelus).

JUDGES (and for Harness Horses and Ponies).

H. Beevor, Blyth, Worksop.

Hon. G. E. Lascelles, Sion Hill, Thirsk.

Robert Leeds, Wicken House, Castleacre, Brandon.

Stallion, not less than 14 hands 2 inches, nor exceeding 15 hands 2 inches, suitable for getting Hackneys.-First prize, £25, P. Triffit, Holme-on-Spalding Moor, York (Fireaway); second of £15, C. Beart, Stow, Downham Market, Norfolk (Ambition); third of £5, H. Bultitaft, Bedwellhay Grange, Ely (Clear-the-Way). Raserve: H. R. Hart, Dunnington Lodge, Yorkshire (All Fours).

Stallion, suitable for getting Coach Horses.-First prize, £25, T. and J. Reynolds, Carlton, Selby (Young Ebor); second of £15, R. Coward, Cabus, Garstang, Lancashire (Octavion); third of £5, R. C. Naylor, Kelmarsh Hall, Northampton (The Hadji). Reserve: J. Rowell, Ramsey, Hunts (The Gentleman).

Pony Stallion, under 14 hands 2 inches.-First prize, £20, Captain H. Platt, Bryn-y-Nenadd, Llanfairfechan, Carnarvonshire (Tom Sayers); second of £10, J. A. Doyle, Plas Dulas, Abergele (Tramp). Reserve: W. Hayward, of Pen Bryn, Car

narvon.

Mare, in foal, or with foal at foot, suitable for breeding Hunters.-First prize, £25, J. Brown, Wiggonby, Wigton (Sally); second of £15, T. Fox, Avenham Hall, Singleton, Lancashire (Pink); third of £5, F. Barlow (Silverhocks). Reserve and highly commended: J. Fielden, Dobroyd Castle, Todmorden (Becky Sharp). Highly commended: J. T. Robinson, Leckby Palace, Topcliffe, Thirsk, Yorkshire (Go-a-Head).

Hunter, Mare or Gelding, over four years old, up to not less than fourteen stones.First prize, £30, F. Barlow (Topstall); second of £15, Major Gunter, King's Dragoon Guards, Manchester (Wetherby). Reserve: J. W. T. Fyler, Hefferton, Wareham, Dorset (Tyrconnel).

Hunter Gelding, four years old.-First prize, £20, Sir G. Cholmley (Don Juan); second of £10, T. Heath Foden, Givendale Grange, Ripon (Young Artillery). Reserve and highly commended: H. J. Percy Howsenrigg, Aspatria, Cumberland (Thunder and Turf).

Hunter Mare, four years old.--First prize, £20, J. Peel, Knowlmere Manor, Clitheroe (Jessica); second of £10, J. Wilson, Crosthwaite, Miluthorpe, Westmoreland,

Hunter, mare or gelding, three years old.-First prize, £15, T. C. Thompson, Kirkhouse, Brampton, Cumberland (Byron); second of £10, E. Murray, Newby, Carlisle, Cumberland (Tibby). Reserve: T. Newton, Oldfield, Altrincham.

Hunter, mare or gelding, not less than four years old, up to not less than twelve stones. First prize, £20, J. B. Booth, Killerby Hall, Catterick (Brian Boru); second of £10, J. Paterson, Terrona, Langholm, Dumfriesshire (Terrona). Reserve W. Murray, Broughton Mews, Manchester (Hotspar).

The best Hunter in any of the classes.-Special prize of £30, Sir G. Cholmley (Don Juan). Reserve: F. Barlow (Topstall).

Mare, not less than 14 hands 1 inch, nor exceeding 15 hands 1 inch, in foal, or with foal at foot, suitable for breeding Hackneys.-First prize, £20, F. Cook, Thixendale, York (British Queen); second of £10, H. Neild, The Grange, Worsley (Stella); third of £5, J. J. Fildes, Plymouth Grove, Manchester (Peggy). Reserve: T. Statter, jun., Stand Hall, Whitefield, Manchester (Fanny).

Pair of Carriage Horses (mares or geldings).-First prize, £20, T. Mark, Durdar House, Carlisle (Jim and Dick). No competition.

Brougham Horse (mare or gelding).—First prize withheld; second of £5, J. Peel, Knowlemere (Lady Mary). No competition.

Colt (gelding or filly), likely to make a Carriage Horse, foaled in 1866.-First prize, £10, W. and F. Coulson, Gaterley Farm, Castle Howard; second of £5, L. Manfield, Thickelby-Barugh, Thirsk.

Roadster Mare or Gelding, not exceeding 15 hands 1 inch, four years old and upwards. First prize, £15, H. J. Percy (Crafty); second of £10, C. L. Clare, Hopefield, Manchester (Ginger). Reserve: W. Murray, Manchester (Perfection).

Roadster Mare or Gelding, not exceeding 15 hands, above four years.—First prize, £15, A. Turner, Narborough Road, Leicester; second of £10, E. Prest, Gorse Hill Farm, Stretford, Manchester (Rufus). Reserve and highly commended: J. Casson, Cumberland. Commended: J. Holyroyd, Rockwood, Burnley, Lancashire (Johnny).

Pony Mare, not exceeding 14 hands.-First prize, £15, W. Simpkin, BurtonAgnes, Yorkshire (Maid of All-work); second of £10, W. Murray, of Manchester (Hill Town Lass); third of £5, J. Whitworth, Stancliffe Hall, Matlock (Minnie). Reserve: W. Torr, Aylesby Manor, Grimsby.

Pony (mare or gelding), not exceeding 13 hands 2 inches.-First prize, £10, T. H. Miller, Preston (Paddy); second of £5, T. Howdle, Silver-street, Hull (Tommy). Reserve and highly commended: Mrs. Levita, The Home, Whalley Range, Manchester. Commended: S. White, South Leverton, Retford (Marquis).

AN INCIDENT IN WILD-FOWL SHOOTING.

BY C. W.

Blank Harbour, situated on the seaboard of a southern Irish county, is well known for its wild-fowl shooting. There may be found bernacle, duck, widgeon, teal-in fact, every species of the anas tribe which frequent the harbours and marshes of Great Britain during the winter season. Thither, then, it was my fate to repair, according to custom, to engage in my favourite pursuit of punt shooting, and there it was that I met with the following adventure.

One frosty morning in November I was lounging over my breakfast, wondering when the heavy fog which obscured my view of the flats would clear up, when I was interrupted by a knock at the door, and on my giving the usual "Open Sesame," in walked my fidus Achates, Tim Doyle, with a

L

"Plase, sir, I went, as usual, to feed yer honor's swans, and I can't find the ould gander. He was there last night, at the back of the house; where he never failed to be, morning and evening, this two years, come next Christmas, yer honor."

Here let me say that the swans alluded to by honest Tim, like Saint Kevin's gander, had been left me by my mother, whose delight it was to feed them in a little pool at the back of my domicile, morn and eve; and when the good old lady departed this life I had them well tended and watched, as a memento of her love for the feathered tribe.

"Gone!" exclaimed I. "Give me the glass, Tim; the mist is drifting, and I will scan the harbour. Perhaps he has strayed whilst feeding during the night." Tim did as desired, at the same time giving an ominous shrug of the shoulders, which said, as plain as could be, "You may look, but you won't find him."

No swan anywhere to be seen. Abiit erupit excessit, having been pinioned from his youth, he could not fly, and if killed by an accidental shot, his large white body would still be visible at a great distance floating on the water.

He must be stolen, then, thought I; and by a clever hand, too, by Jove; as a swan is a strong animal; and we all know the story in the natural history book of the enraged swan that broke a man's leg by a blow of his wing. Still that was the only way I could account for his disappearance from the (to him) festive scene of Blank Harbour.

For a week we prosecuted a vigorous search, but our lost favourite was non est, and in forty-eight hours more, like every other nine-days' wonder, he faded from our recollections. Meantime I had pursued my sport with varied success, fifteen, twenty, and twenty-two couple of birds being my crack shots; and, again, two couple and one bird being my worst, through uncertain light, and misjudging distance. Well, one day, whilst smoking at my lodge door, and watching a flight of widgeon traversing the harbour, I was startled at perceiving, quite close to me, an apparition which that moment glided round the corner, in the shape of a woman attired in a man's coat and waistcoat, and clothed, èo To Todous and understandings, in a black petticoat, grey worsted stockings, and strong hob-nailed boots; a skull cap of flannel on her head, the hair flowing loose down her back, and a fowling-piece under her arm completed the tout ensemble of my heroine. Various thoughts suggested themselves to me, as to whom she could be.

"Ha! I have it," thought I, at last, not without some little pride at my penetration and discernment, "I have it. She is a female Fenian, and I am Sassenach'; my doom is sealed."

What I intended doing is dubious; at all events my mind was put at ease by her addressing me.

"Good morning kindly, yer honour. Poor Mary is come to see the big gun that's able to kill a whole flock at once, yer honour."

Madre de Dio, she takes an interest in small artillery, then, thought I; or is it only a ruse to pot at me from behind some wall. "Well, go to Tim Doyle, then," said I; "and he will show you the gun, and welcome." Thinking by this means to conciliate her. "Thank yer honor. Oh! sir, don't you remember poor Mary Neville, whose husband was drowned out fowling with yer honour's father? i

went to America, sir; but the times were bad, and my heart longed to be back in the Ould Country, near poor Phil's grave; so I came back. Poor Phil, when he was alive, sir, would tache me to load a gun, and now I shoot wild fowl, sir, and sell them to the quality in Blank Town. But it's a hard life, and until lately I could hardly keep body and soul together. However, now, thanks to Well, I thank yer honour," said she, in some confusion, and pausing abruptly in her conversation, what for I was at a loss to conjecture.

"Well, go to the kitchen, get some dinner; and here, Mary, this will help you to buy powder and shot.

"Thank, yer houour," and she was gone.

Poor Mary! her sad tale flashed across my mind, not without a pang of sorrow. My poor father, whilst crossing a channel, was upset, and had a narrow escape of being drowned; Phil Neville, his inseparable attendant, got entangled in the heavy swivel gun, and met an untimely end, leaving a wife and three children to deplore his loss. She went to America, to live with some relations; but her affection for the "Ould Country" and her husband's memory never died within her, and she returned. Labour was scarce, and ill-paid, and she had adopted the Amazonian sport of wildfowl-shooting as a means of subsistence.

"Four o'clock, by Jove, Tim! I say, Tim, have you the punt ready?" exclaimed I, throwing down the "Revue des deux Mondes" over which I had been pouring for the last two hours, in a dreamy

way.

แ

Yes, sir; all right and tight as a trivet, sir," answered Tim. "If you will take my advice, sir," continued Tim, you won't cross the channel after the bernacle to-night, but have a slap at that "flight” of widgeon on the Blue Mould Bank' "-a name given by the peasantry to a large flat, on account of the bluish appearance it presented at low

water.

"Very well, Tim; and what has become of poor Mary?"

"Oh, yer honor, she has gone to the Curragh Bank' to lie for ducks, and there is no fear of her putting up the birds, on your honor." Sic Tim loquitur, and departed, no doubt to toast his shins before the kitchen fire, and, regardless of everything except his personal comfort and Mary's black eyes, pass a pleasant evening until my return.

After paddling some distance, I came within sight of the flock of widgeon I intended approaching, or, as it is technically termed by professionals on the Irish coast, "setting." I then took in the paddles, and got out my "setters "-two flat pieces of wood, seven inches long by four inches wide, attached to the wrist by means of a thong to prevent their slipping out of the grasp during the process of "setting." By this time it was dusk, the very best period for approaching a flock with any degree of certainty. So, cautiously moving ahead, I arrived within about 150 yard of my "plant," when, from the continuous "Whew-whirr" of the widgeon cocks, I judged it to be a large flock and feeding eagerly, and would well repay me for the cold and numbness of my hands whilst "setting." So, cautiously cocking my swivelgun, I saw the lanyard attached to the trigger clear and ready for action, and again commenced to move slowly ahead. After a little time, I could plainly discover the birds, and was just commencing to