there was no great occasion for getting "japanned;" and so I left it alone. Turned my bucolics to account in rearing a good-shaped "short-horn" or two for Smithfield, and varied their excellence with a few round-sterned Cochin Chinas, of the regular "prize-medal" breed. To be sure, when the good Doctor went over the place on his occasional visits to his dear daughter and esteemed son-in-law, he didn't "pass" all the stock with that word of approval he gave the sheep and cows in particular. There was, for instance, a clean-headed, ragged-quartered, old chesnut mare, of exceedingly aristocratic appearance, who walked about the paddocks with the air of everything else being under her, that completely bothered my worthy pastor and master as to what she was there at all for. I think it even took me some little trouble to explain to him how it was I had picked her up as likely to breed us a good sort of horse for "the phaeton."

The Gods forgive me for deceiving him! but if I had thought that mare could breed a buggy-horse, I would have cut her throat. She was by Emilius, foaled at Riddlesworth, and had run up for the Oaks of her year. And she didn't suit the collar, either; for the more the young one--by Venison, he was-the more he grew, the less and less did they consider him fit for "the chaise." My wife was sure he was "too delicate ;" and so I had to get rid of him at two years old, a bargain, to a neighbouring trainer, who took him-with a quiet understanding between ourselves that I was to pay so much per week for his "board and education."

And he turned out as full of promise as I could have hoped-and I had hoped a good deal for him, too, as I used to watch him just learning to "strike out" at home, when they thought I was estimating how many "stun," perhaps, one of the "Duke of Northumberland's" roan daughters would reach on the block. The reports were all favourable. He was a good doer; then a good goer; and when I sneaked up to see him take his first spin, it was quite as much as "Snowy"-for so they called the white-headed lad who looked after him-could do from keeping him getting away with him. After that, we had "a taste," quite as satisfactory; and then my man, who was a terrible fellow for paying the "ex's," as he termed them, thought we might go in for a maiden plate. As the boy knew him, and I saw no great objection, they let "Snowy" have the mount; and then-like an ass, no doubt, as I wass-when I saw my wife's eye on the right column in the paper a day or two after, where it detailed that, at Such-and-such Spring Meeting, the City Members' Plate of, &c., &c., for horses that never, &c., &c., was won very cleverly by Mr. Smith's b. c. by Venison, dam by Emilius, beating half-a-dozen others-then,I say, in the fulness of my heart, I confessed that I was Mr. Smith, and that the Venison colt, the winner of the plate, was the little foal she had feared was too delicate to make a "four-wheeler."

The Messrs. Weatherby and Co. were not too hard on us; for, despite another plate and a chicken-hazard handicap to the credit side of the account, they let us in for one of the autumn events on very fair terms. At least, we thought so, and accepted; and then other people began to think so too. The list-gentlemen named us in their bill of fare, with "prices marked against each article." Next, we came

to be quoted at the Corner; and then, with just the matter-of-form understanding that, if he should, I promised something in the way of new-furnishing a drawing-room that made Bessie's eyes sparkle more, perhaps, than I had ever seen them since that eventful evening when I had asked her, with so much accompanying expression, "whether I might be always helping her over stiles?"

Ours wasn't what is called "a fashionable stable;" indeed, my trainer-a long, thin, wretched-looking man, whose own appearance rather went to confirm the idea-had got the credit for giving his horses more work than corn. I will, though, do him the justice to say that my colt thrived under the treatment, whatever it was, and came to the satisfactory that announced his arrival at the scene of action, looking as bright and seeming as fit as a horse could be. My man, moreover, in that knowing, negative manner the thoroughly initiated express their opinions, confessed that he thought" the horse would not disgrace himself;" while one of the paper prophets boldly named him in the three the race was between; another, with less confidence, making him a "cock-boat."

If our "party" really had a failing, it was the unceasing war they, or rather he, waged against the "ex's" aforesaid. I should be afraid to say how many races he had lost by putting up his own lads, instead of experienced jockeys, or the wonderful sacrifices he submitted to in a variety of ways, to save a sovereign or two. Luckily, however, "Snowy" could hardly get the weight this time; and so we telegraphed a four-stone-nothing bit of humanity from Newmarket, to take his place-a sober, serious child, with the head-piece of a man of fifty, and the bodily frame of a monkey. It was a great thing to get him; and the horse sprung a point or two in consequence. If it came to a finish now, we should have our fair chance for it-an assured fact that seemed amply satisfactory to everybody but" Snowy,” who took his being passed over with anything but a good grace.

The last gallop over all right, and I left home on the morning of the race with visions of such curtains and such paperings dancing in Bessie's bright eyes, as she bid me good-bye and good luck, that none but Madame Vestris and the Lyceum could thoroughly realize. I had some distance to go, and was rather late on the course--in time, though, to lay out a fifty for the stable, on the best terms I could. To accomplish this, I was introduced to "a professional gentleman," who appeared to consider laying and taking the odds but the proper courtesies of civilized life. I never saw a man, in such a scenc, so elaborately calm and studiously polite. In place of the restless, hyena-tramp of " the leviathan," the defiant clamour of my former friend the undertaker, or the "mock-auction" air and tone of too many others, he met you with the collected manner and stately attention of a Chesterfield. There was something all the more grateful in this, from his personal appearance scarcely leading you to expect it; for you must couple this gentle breeding with a squareish, rather coarsely-made man-a little down in one eye, I'm afraid, and looking altogether like a west-end publican or highly respectable butcher, who had taken to wearing his best clothes until he had at last got thoroughly used to them. He regretted extremely that he could not put me on at more than ten to one-about four points, as I afterwards

found, under the price at the time; as sincerely hoped we might have a turn," for my man really deserved it;" and so left me with a bow and a manner that made me feel under a deep obligation for all he had done for me.

I can't say much about the race myself, for I hardly understand it now; but something may be gathered from the comments on it I caught up. Little Struggles, for instance, as he waddled in to weigh, after it was over, wished to know, in extreme disgust, "why he had been brought all the way from home to ride such a rip as that?" Mr. Ruff, again, devoted half-a-line to say that the Venison colt, over-paced all the way, was "absolutely last;" while my courtly acquaintance, as he received the rouleau, observed, with an air of the sincerest sympathy, that he "was afraid the company was a little too good for him." Some few, however, were more explicit in their opinions, one pimply-faced gentleman, in particular, who owned to having been fool enough to put three sovereigns on, denouncing us bodily as "a set of thieves;" that "the horse was pulled,' as anybody could see;" that "he never ran a yard to win;" and that "it was a-(something)-robbery, and nothing else!"

To a certain extent, I must admit, he was right-as far as its being a (something)-robbery, decidedly so. In the exhilaration consequent on three glasses of British brandy-and-water, "Snowy" was heard to declare that "he'd settled it. If he couldn't win on him, nobody else should; and they didn't, either." A severe cross-examination on this avowal, with a police-court sketched in perspective, resulted in a good deal of howling, and a partial confession. By the means of a worthy man who has since been difficult to trace, the disappointed "Snowy" physicked his horse-as vide plate-the night before the race, and so sacrificed our hopes of a good thing as effectually as he did his own. character. As it was, we let him off too easily, with a "caution" in the "Calendar;" and he is now, I believe, on the strength of being "intimately connected with all the great stables," living comfortably enough on postage-stamps, in some street, Lambeth.

Poor Bessie! it was a hardish blow for her at first, as womenbless them!-always think the best; and she made sure of winning, directly she knew she would win by it. I think it is nearly forgotten now, though some of the phrases acquired by that heartrending explanation turn up oddly enough at times. It was only the other day, at dinner, that she astonished the old Doctor tremendously by declaring it was her duty to tell me that she strongly suspected the new cook" stood in" with Evans, the gardener (who don't live in the house), and that between them they "squared" the cold meat and table-beer to an alarming extent.

SOME MORE LAST WORDS ON THE WINTER EXHIBITION.

BY SCRIBBLE.

"Last words!" what a melancholy train of ideas this suggests! Very near akin to sighs are such words. Not all melancholy either—

"Parting is such sweet sorrow,

That I could say 'Good night' until to-morrow."

Who leaves what he loves without a pang? Your last love, or (if you have any taste for fighting) your last enemy, like Alexander-the last bottle of a good vintage, the last view of some memory-hallowed spot as your carriage tops the hill which conceals it from your sight, and your last shilling, are parted with, with a pleasure at most but retrospective-a pleasure enervating to the mind, and suggestive of a blank future. If my "last words were like this, O most illustrious brother sportsman, I should have closed my Winter Exhibition without any words about it at all, and have at once commenced some more consolatory topic. No, no; in parting thus I but prolong our mutual pleasure, and open fresh hopes for a returning season. There shall be no painful doubts about our annual gathering; only let the Hyde Park Commission take pattern by our determination. However, that's nothing to me; "ne sutor ultra crepidam ;" I only say this, that a more brilliant, effective, successful, instructive lesson to the whole world, or a grander opportunity of perpetuating the greatness of England, and drawing together the bonds of friendship and honourable rivalry with foreign countries, never-oh! well, never mind; I quite forgot myself, and beg to state that the editor is not answerable for my aberrations. So, reader, if you wish the Crystal Palace knocked down, I hope they will knock it down; and if you wish it kept up, I assure you I have nothing to say against it. My name is Easy-very easy indeed.

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But, before we talk about fresh hopes for a recurrence of our season, let us get comfortably out of the present one. 'It's as well to be off with the old love before we are on with the new." And why are we off with the old one so early? The weather, that universal scapegoat. Oh, those dry hot suns and cutting N.E. winds; how the dust has begun to fly and the forelegs to give way, and the young 'un to get splints and the old 'un to get shaky, and the vixens-ah, ah! brother, that last was a double thonger, and touched a raw, and if you do not care for your horses or your bones, you have a regard for ladies who

are as those should “wish to be that love their lords." I have heard of a May fox, I never saw one; and hope I never shall. There's a time for everything, and now is your time for the stag. Go jackass-hunting,