of blackfaces. It is a rule of the society that its leading members should all bear a hand, and his grace shows an example which should not be thrown away on the lazy young men of the period, who think everything a bore. The most interesting bit for photography would have been when the Marquis of Tweeddale, who is about 82, pulled up his phaeton in the yard, with Jeff Davis sitting beside him, and introduced the Southern President to the Duke. "Jeff's" fancy scemed to run on the Ayrshires. Bob Carlyle, Lord Wemyss's stud-groom, and Shore, the Duke's huntsman, were both there; but we did not see another sporting face, save Mr. Usher's, who told with delight of some races about to come off at Musselburgh.

We could not wait for them, and the night mail landed us at Doncaster before six. The High-street was quite deserted at that hour, but there was one object which seemed to tell the character of the town-a man leading a bay blood mare, with a chesnut foal at her side. There will be wailing and weeping if the home-bred Pretender loses the St. Leger. Surplice, we believe, was bred there, and we hear that he is better, but not likely to be used again. Old Carriboo is not very much younger, but he was second at Lincoln to Dalesman; and Rapid Rhone was beaten ; while a Motley horse was the best hunter in the yard. The hound show was put off to Friday, so as to enable Mr. Chaplin to join the Goodwood fox-hunters after the Cup and get to Lincoln in time.

This was managed cleverly enough by special trains; and "the squire was in the Goodwood ball-room at one o'clock a.m., and at his house " up-hill at Lincoln seven hours after. Early risers had a great treat as they saw his hunting-stud at exercise, thirty-two strong, with the hunting-groom on a hack. They made quite a procession filing down Lincoln in the early morning; but for processions we never saw the like of Sangler's Circus-a queen sitting on a gilded throne, at quite a dizzy height, grasping a ball and sceptre, and drawn by eight horses; an immense glass frame in which a fettered negro, looking very like "Plantaganet Green," represented Captive Africa; and knights and ladies on horseback galore. How different to the old days when Ducrow kept rigidly to London, and three or four mountebanks went from village to village, formed a ring at the back of a public-house, had shilling lotteries, and gave a lamb as head prize and trays and pincushions to eke out !

The show ground was curiously divided by the railway, but the hounds had a capital part allotted to them, and Mr. Parrington lent the Yorkshire cages. Lord Kesteven was absolutely nowhere, as his lot came up so fat, that Lord Doneraile and Mr. G. L. Fox would not have them at all, and very sore his lordship was about it. We trust, however, that he may recover his equanimity, as his chaff has been a pleasant element at many a hound show. There had becu an excellent "whip on" amongst the M. F.H.'s; thirteen kenne's made entries, and all of them sent save Lord Rendlesham's. We never saw so many good hounds together from nine-season Brockleby Nelson downwards, and £215 went in prizes and £56 in gratuities. Six out of the twelve kennels shared the prizes, Lord Yarborough's first as usual with two firsts and three seconds, the same number that it won in Yorkshire the next week. The great prize of the day was £25 for not less than two

couple of unentered hounds, which was won by the Milton kennel, the first time, if we remember rightly, that George Carter has shown anything. Old Nelson and his sons had to bow to Fitzhardinge Pomfret and his sons in the "best stallion judged by produce" class.

Nelson gave two seasons to Pomfret, who came under the charge of his new huntsman, Macbride, who was in the scarlet and black collar, with a silver fox running up hill. Each earl changes the costume, and really it is a blessing to see them free once more of that dreadful 66 orange tawny." Charles Hamblin was in the Badminton green, and Will Long the patriarch of huntsmen, who can now give little or no change out of eighty, was watching the Brocklesby fortunes of his son, and in a very chirpy humour. Mr. Howsen, who must be nearly as old, does not seem to be one day older than be was twenty years ago, and that light lissom figure will be seen gliding to the front in a fast thing for some seasons yet. Will declares that the fences look no bigger than they did, and we remember how eleven years ago, when he came over for a week with Mr. Morrell, that jovial sportsman put him on one of his best hunters, and the news came back early in the afternoon, that Will had jumped a lane on him. It is seldom that we hear of the Grove coming out on these occasions, but they did now, and Jack Morgan was never weary of showing his winning bitches on the flags; and Mr. Musters never weary of looking at them. Mr. Chaplin's two couple of entered hounds, Saladin, Sampson, Damper, and Warrior, took the first prize for two couple of unentered hounds, and pursued their advantage at Beverley. Newton was still unable to get a boot on to the leg, which was injured last season, but he walks pretty sound at last. The Quorn took nothing, and "Peter" from the York and Ainsty was content to abide his time. There seemed a great deal of cheering in the tent, and Mr. Fox's speech was particularly applauded. The great lunch was, however, too much for the waiters, and it was some time before the huntsmen could sit down to theirs, as there was not a knife and fork to be had. At Manchester no food or water was provided for the hounds.

now.

Beverley Race-course proved a beautiful site for the Yorkshire show; but the long steady rise of one-and-a-half mile from the town to the Stand was a hard pull for anyone who is "a piper." The town had its usual beautiful drop scene look when the morning sun shone down its quaint old streets, and through the Bar by "The Rose and Crown.” It looks so innocent, and so charming, that one could never fancy that it is so systematically corrupt at ward and borough elections. We hear that Job Marson is still alive, but there are no trainers in residence In the distance we caught a glimpse of old Elrington, who once attended upon Blacklock, and was with him when he died. The Grand Stand was duly apportioned to agricultural exigencies. The judges and the huntsmen dined in the saloon. Mr. Parrington had his office below, and the weighing-room was devoted to reporters, and duly labelled to that effect; but we never saw one of the fraternity "coom a nigh." The weights and scales stood idle, until another June comes round. It was on them, or their predecessors, that Sir Tatton Sykes weighed in for the last time; and they performed the same office for Harry Edwards, when he rode a match on Bell Tinker, which was declared void for not making stakes. "Sim" was his opponent on a filly

of Mr. Merry's, and his friends were asking the latter, when they found him leaning against the Shorthorn ring and watching the fortunes of Red and Double Butterfly, about the mounts he had had over this course which has been a fearful choke-jade to many. On the whole he seemed to wish himself once more on Brownlock. Mr. Hall of the Holderness gave his friends a splendid luncheon in a marquee not far off the entrance, and the pine and strawberries were quite visitors' talk. Both he and Mr. Sykes and most of the neighbouring gentry had their houses filled, and in fact every effort was made to bring off the meeting successfully.

There never was a great meeting managed so well and with so little fuss. Two stewards were on foot, and had next to nothing to do, but Mr. Young, on his black horse, was kept pretty active with such a mighty horse interest to look after. On the foxhound day Mr. Wheatley was in charge of the flags, and Mr. Parrington exercised a quiet general superintendence. The vista looking down "the long stable" of 176 stalls was marvellous, and as Don Juan, Young Artillery, and the mean-looking bay which beat them in the four-year-old class, stood together, critics had a fine scope for revising that curious judgment. One of the oddest stable sights was to see the straw waggon come along at a trot for fear of being mobbed the whole length of the stable, and the grooms clutching at the battens as it passed. Punch, the grey dray horse, was one of the glories of the stable, and they didn't overlook him here as they did at Edinburgh, where he never got a place at all. We are rather disposed to believe that the Scotch judges passed him over because he was not a Clydesdale than that they did not see him. Eighteen hands by 23 cwt. is not so easily overlooked. Except with Caradon and Caradon 2nd, both of them sold to Mr. Hall, Sir George Chomley did not make such a good figure as usual with his young chesnuts; and Angelus, who has been head sire for two if not three years, was only fourth. Dalesman stood at the top of the list; but the more we see of him the more we are convinced that the Islington bench (backed by another of our finest riders and judges) were quite right in passing him over for Whitby, and that the Manchester bench were equally right in only placing him fourth. Whitby was not noticed, and after what happened in London, we wonder that he was brought out. He ought to be able to make his mark without winning prizes. The judges took special good care to find out if there was any roaring or whistling, as they lunged them severely under Professor Spooner's inspection in one corner of the ring. Theobald, a 200 purchase of Mr. Constable's on a Doncaster Friday, went better than he looked; and Ahab looked as if he had been potted into the smallest possible space. Windham, a nice, active and well-knit horse, went remarkably well, and took second prize; whereas at Wetherby last year he was nowhere. False Alarm has lost any promise he might have had, and is very flashy, and with bad twisted forelegs; in fact, he has gone all to leg, and he couldn't live for a minute now in a ring with Scottish Chief.

Shepherd F. Knapp's trotting was delightful, he "told it off like the pendulum of a clock," and how his man lived with him and ran "bang up to his head," not hanging by a long white leading rein, was one of the most wonderful things of the show. Some of our friends told us

that they have seen him trot the Two Mile Course at York this summer, and that his performance of the last two distances was marvellous. Ilis owner can give his friends no greater treat than to have "Knapp" out, just as John Elmore used to order out Lottery and have him "turned over" chairs on the lawn after dinner. "Knapp" stopped a few yards beyond the winning post at Knavesmire the moment his driver eased his head, and never was there a more docile customer. The Market-Weighton men could not at all understand his beating them at Beverley, and demurred to his half Arabian blood, but without avail. Independently of his action, he is a well-made horse and he has been having a great season in Yorkshire at a high fee. We should like to see what he and Crafty would do together. So far she has had no great breeding luck. Although she has been passed over from Cumberland to Lancashire, Mr. Casson had Red Cap, a blue roan hack by Augur ready to go on with the running. Mr. Percy seems to be tiring of shows (66 firsts and 22 seconds with one mare make quite a glut of glory for a man), and George Mulcaster is leaving him. We hear that he is going to Sir Shafto Adair.

But to proceed; sixty-one were entered for the Holderness Cup, and oddly enough the last of them was Climax. We have seen a good many fine sights in the horse way, but nothing equal to this, when the 41 hunters, with some of the best of the Holderness men on them, came into the ring. Caradon, a chesnut bred by Sir George Chomley, Stomach Ache, and the Doctor, both of them Mr. Hall's, and Mr. Booth's Brian Boru were the horses which took every one from the first. We never could quite settle which we liked best, Stomach Ache or The Doctor, but we rather hung to the former. When they first drew up in line Lady Derwent was on the extreme right, and no one seemed to think much of her. Then a score were taken out, and put into a line in front or behind, we forget which, and received the words of doom to quit the ring, which they did "unfriended, melancholy, slow." The other twenty then took to ring practice again, Mr. John Booth on Brian Boru, and George Mulcaster, who showed him off beautifully, on Mr. Booth's second string, Bannagah. Gradually they got placed in two lines of ten on each side of the telegraph, and Dou Juan was among the condemned, to Bob Brignall's sad disgust. Lady Derwent was also on that side, but was fetched out before the shifting was finally settled, and now the ring was in a smaller compass; Mr. Booth's two and Mr. Hall's four still standing in. Then the judges, were very busy with the powerful Brian Boru, and, if we remember rightly, every one of the three original judges were up on him. Stomach Ache and The Doctor were not so much tested, but it was evident that Lady Dervent was coming, as she was a favourite mount, and whenever she gets ncar a finish she is always dangerous. Moreover, two of the judges had given her the Royal prize at Leicester, and set aside such a horse as Orangeman in her favour. The ring was hardly big enough for Brian Boru and Mr. Hall's horses, and they certainly didn't go with the same liberty. She is beautifully trained, and slipped round very nicely. The next orders were to unsaddle and trot slowly, and certainly some of the riders have not much action for that kind of performance. There were some shouts of " Well done, Lambert !” as that slashing rider descended from Brecch Loader late Brigadier, and

executed a leisurely trot at his side. This brown, who does not improve with years, had no chance by the side of the two others or Caradon, whom Mr. Hall rode in the Londesboro' run, where he missed his second horse.

The last ceremony was Lord Macclesfield's mount "by request" on Lady Derwent, that he might say judicially whether she was up to 14st. His Lordship thought she was, and to the unutterable astonishment of the audience, male and female, she got the first rosette. A few cheered on one side of the ring, but the rest were fairly dumbfounded, to see four such horses put aside in her favour. The judges did not hear anything to their advantage among the ladies on the stand, who one and all seemed to laugh at Lady Derwent's claims, pretty mare as she is. The public did not scruple to say that she merely goes out to see hounds, and that as a hunter she would be nowhere across Holderness with twelve stone. The truth is she has been well trained, and no mare shows off better in a comparatively small ring like that at Beverley. At Wetherby, where it was larger, Iris, with John Pye up, fairly galloped her down, and that fine horseman, Captain Skipworth, thought very little of her after a mount. When she met Iris at Peterboro', Mr. John Elliot, a first-class man with the Grafton, was not satisfied with the ring space, and took her out of the ring for a longer stretch, and he soon made up his mind that she was not much of a hunter. The Beverley people got dreadfully caught, as when they gave the cup they thought the conditions were sufficient to exclude a half-bred mare like her, but as two crosses of blood were not made a sine qua non, the judges were not bound to pass her by. Many friends asked Mr. Hall to protest, bu: he declined and said that he never demurred to judges' decisions. "You demur to Baron Martin's, don't you, about Beverley?" said a political friend, and he laughed and shook his head, and Mr. John Booth took it up. However, Major Gunter proposed that no action be taken in the matter, and there it dropped. It was said that Stomach Ache was placed second, but when the next class came in, and (Mr. Boulton having left the ring with the three Masters of Hounds) he was pitted against Brian Boru, Messrs. Nainby and Bennett placed the chesnut over his head. The latter was bought by Mr. Booth last year at Ballinasloe fair, and we hear that Carr the huntsman of the Bedale went splendidly on him in one of their best runs.

The hound show was on the last day, and it was held after much tribulation. The Society don't take to it kindly, and only allowed it by a majority of one. They then did so on the conditions that the space was not to be highpaled round, and they paid, we are told, for the putting up of the hound cages, &c. The former were wired on both sides, and the people were rather troublesome, as they would keep feeding the hounds. It was once urged that it should not be held, but give way for a year, to Lincoln, and then that it was too soon after the sad day on the Ure to hold one at all. The former was no reason at all, and the other is disposed of by the thought that not one of those four good men who perished would have wished it unheld for their sakes. Strange to say, there was one gentleman present such a living image of Sir Charles, that we could have fancied the dial of our days put back a year, and the baronet once more amongst us, with all his quiet plea