ley's black mare, Sultana; the second, by Mr. Moggridge's bay horse, Worcester; the third, by Mr. Shaw's bay mare, Miracle; and the fourth, by Mr. Hughes's brown horse, Brown George. The four winners then started for a stakes, which was very handsomely given by a gentleman, a proprietor of iron-works in the neighbourhood, who had been the occasion of the troop's mustering before their usual time, on account of some disturbances amongst his workmen. The horses came in as follows:

Mr. Moggridge's Worcester 1 Mr. Hughes's Brown George.. 2 Mr. Wheley's Sultana.. 3

Mr. Shaw's mare, Miracle, did

the streets, and, with the jockey boys, were all in their new, or, at least, their best apparel-but all would not do. The lodgings, many of them, were unlet; no betting in the rings, or small parties in the street; few or none of the gentlemen made their appearances amongst them; and a cold easterly wind setting in at the time, added at least seven years, on an average, to the age of each of the already gloomy-faced legs since I last saw them, which is not six months ago. Added to all this, when the list, containing much cunning and many intricacies, made its appearance, with "paid, paid, paid," to a great extent, in all the great stakes, their prospects of enriching themselves became as far from happy, as their own miserable-looking countenances indicated.

The Craven Stakes of eighteen horses began the week's sport,the number almost equal to former years, and, what is not always the case, most of the best horses were first in the race. This being only a ten-guinea stake, more for trial than emolument, all are not expected to do their best all the way: besides, it is entirely out of some horses' distance; in consequence, little betting takes place, and this year there was certainly less than ever. Lord G. Cavendish's horse, which was second to Augusta for the Newmarket St. Leger in the autumn, won quite in a canter. Little Banker struggled well with 9st. llb. on his back; but (though second) had, with the rest, not the least possible chance.

Mr. Rush won the second race

quite as easy. Lord George's colt is certainly beautiful in form, but totally without speed, at least he was so on this day. very thankfully.-ED.

The Great Riddlesworth Stakes was next. Lord Egremont, in winning this, got much money, but no laurels, his colt receiving five pounds from each of the other two; yet, in my humble opinion, had he ran on equal terms, he would have won equally easy.

Mr. Williamson's filly, bought of Mr. Hammond, of the Sun Publichouse, for 100gs. won the fourth and last race of the day, without an effort.

TUESDAY.-Four races to-day, and not one of them contested. The Duke of Grafton won the first and third with the same filly, and so easy, that in all probability she did less work this day than on any other since Christmas.

Oatland Stakes.-Nine started; this was considered a very interesting race, and was so no doubt till the grand secret shewed itself in running-one of the very best handicaps that ever was made, alike free from prejudice, and that illiberality which is shewn sometimes, even to strangers. Mr. Fox won with North Wester very easy, took the odds freely, and no doubt won a great sum of money.

WEDNESDAY.-Two races; Antigallican won the first, but not with that ease pleasant to himself; he ran also for the second race, when, finding a recurrence of similar disagreeables, he wisely, some say foolishly,others rogueishly, gave up the race.

THURSDAY.-The Duke of Grafton's Whizgig won the first race pretty easy. She seems a little idle lurching thing, and would make a race with one ever so bad. The next race was also won by the Duke of Grafton; this seemed a better расе, and a better style of running. This filly is called Pastille. They are both by Rubens, the best stallion in

England, out of Parasol and Penelope, inferior to none as brood mares. The third race being a dead heat between the Duke of Rutland's filly and Mr. Wyndham's colt, they divided the stake, and the Duke of Rutland walked over, which, it seems, makes him the winner as to bets. Some dissatisfaction arose on this arrangement, which will be settled by that excellent tribunal, the Jockey Club, next week. I can only, in the mean time, exclaim with the drummer when flogging a man, "There is no such thing as pleasing people now a-days."

The great attraction of the week was the Claret Stakes. The best of the three-year-olds of the previous year are generally put into it, which brought Gustavus, the winner of the Derby, and the flying Augusta, the winner of the Oaks last year, together. Augusta was the favourite, at five to two and two to one, in consequence of her winning her former race so very brilliantly, and carrying five pounds less than the colts on this occasion. Carbonaro made the play; very good true running; Old Cliff rode Gustavus patiently and well; waited contentedly between the first and the last till past the turn of the lands towards the Duke's stand, when finding he could catch the first whenever he pleased, he pulled gently back to see what his great opponent Augusta intended, expecting of course the grand struggle would be with her but poor Augusta was done; he then set himself straight for home, and won quite cleverly.

FRIDAY, the last day, Whizgig won the first and third races, the last with some difficulty. It appeared a short run race-when horses of course cannot get far from

ea ch other, and a race seems much more severe than if more running was made. Nothing else occurred worth mentioning. It will be observed that the Duke of Grafton won almost all the great stakes, beating nearly all the best horses of the year; but as a very strong wind met all the horses in running, some change may take place in the ensuing weeks-" an ill wind that blows nobody good!!"

RIDING-HAMPSHIRE HUNTING

To the Editor of the Sporting Magazine. SIR,

FASHION of course is the great lord paramount; and its power is felt most sensibly in every thing. It would be well if, in following its laws, regard were more frequently had to the substantial value of safety and utility; but unfortunately this is not the case, as we may see by taking but a casual glance at every-day circumstances. As all things then, in turn, feel the influence of fashion, and submit, as a matter of course, to its rule, we ought not to feel surprised that the art of riding has been touched by the sceptre of his godship, and new rules laid down for the regulation of the equestrian tribe. We know there is an overweening cant about the influence of fashion; and we do not altogether intend to join in it; our object is simply to point out one of the errors of the day in regard to the empire of sporting. We allude to the fashion of riding. Every body who rides, or who sees others ride, must have observed the great prevalence of long stirrups, particularly among the younger horsemen of the day. It is said to be a very graceful mode of doing the thing-and one calculated to obtain general admiration. This, however, admits of

much doubt; and though nothing definite can be said about taste, yet surely few will contend that the loose, toe-out-pointing style of riding is half so elegant as the trig and firm mode, which is now unfortunately a little on the wane.

The new style of riding (à la militaire) doubtless owes its origin to the peace: this event naturally left our army officers much time for the home service, and hence their method of riding became frequently under notice, and, as we see, has gained a host of imitators.

But my object in mentioning this subject, Mr. Editor, is to state a circumstance which has recently come under my notice, of the evil of the long-stirrup style, and which will prove that it is not the mode at all calculated for riding to hounds. Not long since an illustrious Duke, who frequently hunts in Hampshire, with the hounds of Sir John Cope and Mr. Chute, and who, it is not to be wondered at, rides altogether like a military man, met with a practical illustration of the beauty of a tight seat. His Grace rides boldly over a country, and is not to be easily checked. On the occasion we speak of, however, by some accident, he was unhorsed; and which event was doubtless to be ascribed to the length of his stirrup-for a countryman, who chanced to be at hand, came up to the Noble Duke, and assisting him to remount, gave him this good advice:-" I'll tell you what, my Lord Duke, you should just take the stirrups up a bit." There is nothing half so well calculated to correct the loose taste in question, as a dashing ride after a good pack; and the gentlemen who follow the hounds above mentioned are well aware of this fact. I am, Sir, yours,

A HAMPSHIRe Man.

OXFORDSHIRE SIR THOMAS

MOSTYN'S COUNTRY.

(Concluded.)

To the Editor of the Sporting Magazine.

SIR,

A MAN who cannot ride, over large fences, has no business with Sir Thomas Mostyn's hounds; as the greater part of it is a bruising country, and requires a hunter, and a powerful one, to go across it-the quick growing very strong in the fences, and in wet seasons, it is deep and heavy. He must also be an accomplished fencer, as there is much timber and a great many doubles; neither must he be afraid of water, as there are more brooks in the Bicester country than in any other which I have ever ridden over, and which is evident from the number of bridges on the turnpike roads. The river Cherwell is only to be passed by a bird, without swimming it, till you get some distance above Banbury, and even there it has rarely attempted with success. I saw it cleared by Mr. Newnham (late at the head of the Worcestershire hounds, but for many years an attendant on Sir Thomas's), Mr. Robert Canning, and a Mr. Bawcot, a hard riding farmer in that neighbourhood. I was landed on the bank, but it nearly cost me a good hunter. He fell back into the river, and was carried down the stream for twenty yards, with nothing but his hoofs to be seen, before he could turn himself in the water; and it was nearly half an hour before he could be got out. As he was a fine brook leaper, I attribute his failure to his seeing Mr. Best's horse swimming about very "near to him at the time.

Great part of the Bicester coun-^ try is very flat, which, in wet seaVOL. X. N. S.-No. 55.

sons, is a great disadvantage to: it, as it prevents the land flood from passing off so quickly as it would do, if there were a greater fall in the larger rivers. It is often so much under water that hounds cannot run over it at all; and when cleared sufficiently for them, it is very awkward for horses; as when the ditches are full they cannot see them, and many falls are the consequence. On the whole, however, it is a good fox-hunting country, well preserved, and calculated to try the stoutness of hounds and horses, as well as the nerves of those who hunt in it. There is a common field, called "MarshGibbon field," about three miles across, which, of all open fields I ever rode over, is the most killing for horses, and it generally holds a good scent. If horses are not well prepared, and fit to go, they have no business there.

That part of the country called the Brill country, is very severe, and the only one in which I ever saw one man kill two horses in two successive days.

On coming

to a check the first day, I observed to him that he would kill his horse if he persevered with him, as I saw the distress he was in, by a certain stare of his eye, which cannot be mistaken; and at the time I spoke, the mischief, no doubt, was done. He was a friend of Sir Henry Peyton's, and stuck close to him in the run; but at the check I speak of, Sir Henry's horse, as he observed to me at the time, was as comfortable, and as much at his ease, as the other was beaten and distressed. On the following day, his other horse sunk under him on his road home, without much apparent distress, and was dead in two hours. To want of condition, or, in the language of

B

the stable, "not being fit to go," is to be attributed the loss of these horses; and in some future remarks, with which I shall trouble you on this subject, I shall endeavour to shew how unfairly hunters are too often treated. To bring a race horse to the post at all, requires many months of strong work, and rigid preparation; and even then, his running a good race, depends upon whether he is fit to run: whereas a hunter is expected to be always fit, provided he eats his meat well, and kicks up his heels at exercise. Generally speaking, however, not more than one man's hunter in ten that appear by a covert side, taking England throughout, is in a fit state to follow hounds, at the pace they now go; which scarcely differs from racing, with the exception of the slight puff they get when pulled up at their fences.

Lord Jersey, when at his seat at Middleton Stoney, is within four miles of Sir Thomas Mostyn's kennel, but he does not hunt much in Oxfordshire. His Lordship, like most good judges, and old Meltonians, is become fastidious as to hounds, horses, and country; and, unless things go very smoothly indeed, he does not appear happy in the field. Having often seen him as Lord Villiers, and since as Lord Jersey, go brilliantly over Leicestershire, I should be sorry to hear that he slackened his pace, as no man can beat him when he is inclined to ride. He is an elegant horseman, and when riding to hounds, he goes cheering along as though he were delighted with the sport. As I before observed, he is become fastidious in the choice of his horses: but in the purchase of them he has one sine qua non, and that is-power; for he will buy

no horse that is not more than a stone above his weight. His Lordship knows how to make a handicap at Newmarket; and is well aware that a man of ten stone weight, on a horse only equal to nine, cannot go so fast over a country as a man of fourteen stone, on a horse equal to fifteen. I heard a good anecdote of his Lordship on this subject a short time since. He was trying a horse belonging to a London dealer in the Park. A friend of mine was passing at the moment, and asked him whether he thought he would buy him. "I fear not, Sir," said the dealer,

we don't live by his sort." Whoever lives to see Lord Jersey's second son grow up into a man, will, if I mistake not, see as fine a horseman as his father.

Sir Henry Peyton, as I before observed, resides at Tusmore Park, in the centre of Sir Thomas's country, and goes as well as ever he did in his life. When riding to hounds, however, he does not shew that animation and pleasure that Lord Jersey appears to feel when things go right; but the moment the hounds are away, he presses down his hat over his face, and with a look which seems to imply, Go along, my boys-the faster the better-he is to be stopped by nothing that any other man can get over, and he is particularly quick at getting out of a crowd. Fence, brook, and timber are all the same to him, and he has a remarkably good eye to hounds. He is also an every-day rider; and certainly one of the pleasantest men in England to ride over a country with; for, so far from having a grain of jealousy about him, he will give a man every assistance in his power, and seems pleased when he sees another going as well as