tried. Fancyboy, when fit, I conceive to be about the best of the lot; but I much question if he will ever be again the same horse he was previous to Epsom and Newcastle. Grimston has always run well this season, and can stay his course; I can scarcely, however, imagine him good enough to carry off the St. Leger.

Of John Scott's lot Brocardo is, in my opinion, the only one with any chance, and of him I still retain the favourable opinion I expressed previously to the Derby; if well at the post, he must be in the first three. Jago, as game and honest an animal as ever was foaled, will find the distance half a mile too far for him, and, besides, must necessarily be very stale.

The best horse of his year I conceive to be Sir Tatton Sykes, and, if properly managed and steadily ridden, I look in vain for anything able to compete with him. That he ought to have won the Derby with ease, there cannot be a doubt; but the uncertainty of racing is proverbial; and, through the recklessness of his owner and jockey, Sir Tatton was deprived of the victory when almost within his grasp. I have not enumerated Pyrrhus, his conqueror on that day, in the list of starters, as, from the state of the betting respecting him, it may be considered very doubtful if he will go to Doncaster. Sting was once a first-rate horse, and it is possible may prove himself so again, but his chance for the St. Leger can hardly be a good one. Free Lance is speedy, but cannot stay; and Cranebrook has been sufficiently often. before the public to allow a judgment to be formed of his capabilities. Mount Callan, Erin-go-bragh, and Humdrum may possibly run, but their prospects of success, if we are to judge from their performances hitherto, are anything but brilliant. In closing these remarks, I can but restate my opinion that SIR TATTON SYKES is the best horse, not only in this race, but in his year.

The Foal Stakes (seven subscribers) will probably be walked over for by Tom Tulluch.

On Thursday, there are forty-one acceptances for the Great Yorkshire Handicap, of whom June and Bravissimo appear to me the most favourably weighted.

The North of England Produce Stake seems likely to fall to Kismet; and the Sweepstakes of 200 sovs. each to Dawson's lucky stable, by the aid of Grimston. Bingham, backed heavily for the Derby, will make his appearance in the Municipal Stakes, and probably prove victorious. The Scarborough Stakes, one mile, should just suit The Traverser, as Brocardo, his most formidable competitor, would doubtless prefer a longer distance.

With the exception of the Park Hill, all Friday's races depend mainly on the previous results of the meeting; and for this, the Northern Oaks, Fair Helen's performances at Harwich and Wolverhampton should secure her many friends.

I cannot conclude these endeavours to shadow forth some of the probable results of the week without expressing my satisfaction that the Cup will be contested under the same" weight for age" conditions as it has always hitherto been. Surely there is a sufficiency of handicaps in the country without turning one of the oldest-established races in the north of England into one of these "refuges for the destitute" amongst race-horses.

"TAKE THEM WHILE THEY'RE IN THE HUMOUR."

ENGRAVED BY J. H. ENGLEHEART, FROM A PAINTING BY J. BATEMAN.

"That's your sort, my hearty! bravely cast and fairly struck, and there's another of 'em. Now Davie, my darling, be lively to help me out with him, for, as Nanny Pryce said when your twin brother was born, there's more yet to come,' and we must just take 'em while they're in the humour.'"

66

Exactly so, "take them while they're in the humour," the grand recipe for fishing of all kinds, and sports of all sorts. Look at the whole round from the very top to the very bottom of the catalogue, say only from fox-hunting to battue-shooting, and nineteen cases in twenty will put in this as a sine quâ non. What a fine line of country to ride over if we can only find a flying fox to take it " while he's in the humour." Or it's a biggish, deepish, nasty get-at-able-looking brook certainly; but then horse and man both feel right this morning, and away they go, as straight as a shot, to take it while they're in the humour. Or, once again, it's a strong field, sir, no doubt; and to be sure the old mare aint the best in, at any rate upon paper; but I should not be much against her for all that; she'll run a very handy race for it yet, especially if we gets her to "take it while she's in the humour." Setters work, batsmen score, yachts sail, dice nick, ladies smile, and trout rise when you "take them while they're in the humour." And of all these, none comes out stronger in example than the gentle art we are at present intent upon. What terrible exceptions and contradictions it does make to the angler's authorities sure-ly! How occasionally it will fly in the face of all that has ever been written by all the learned professors, from Charles Cotton, Knight, to Palmer Hackle, Esquire, inclusive! To-day, with wind and weather made to order, and every rule and preliminary as religiously observed as if it emanated from the High Court of Parliament itself, you whip mile after mile without moving a fish: put out the strength of your art and the pride of your fly book, visit that noted turn, and this favoured spot, without gaining anything beyond your guide's contempt and your own ill-humour. There is something wrong, evidently; either "the holy friars" in the neighbourhood are "most infernal liars," or if those stories they tell you as to the pounds on pounds of trout lately caught here are correct, they must have cleared the stream clean out, and no mistake. Aye, that's it, no doubt: the stock can't last for ever where any adventurer that turns up may get his ticket of leave from the man at "the Morgan Arms." Used up's the fact, and conscientiously reported as such. Still, however, as one is here "to fish," and has at least another day which must be bored a hole through somehow or other, we may as well make a second cast for that brace of Jenny Joneses we made our bow to yesterday. O yes, certainly, bring the rod with you, for it's as good as a stick in one's hand at any rate, though perhaps, as our native would seem to insinuate from the experience of yesterday, hardly as useful. And you put it

together and hang out a fly "in mere wantonness," as the sham-sick lady at Bath said. Bother the fly rod !—make a deuced deal better four-in-hand tool, don't you think it would, Davie ? And only just see now what a fine flick I'll give that water-lily bobbing about there. elegant cast, by Jupiter! and worth a fish, if there was one in the

water.

"Ees it wure; try him again, Sir."

An

Of course if you wish it-swish-better still, and-Eh! what's all this? a cast and a strike too! Here, Davie, you ugly blackguard, look out with you; there is a fish left, and I've hooked him!

"Ees, so you have, and hur shouldn't wonder but there's another behind 'un.

Nonsense, man, nonsense; how d'ye make that out-no fish here yesterday, and two here to-day?

"But 't aint no nonsense neither," as Davie very truly remarks on basketing the half dozenth; there are trout in the stream, aye, and on the land too if you come to that; and the fly-rod is a fly-rod, and not a Jarvey helper, as we dared to wish it was but an hour since; and the flies are good flies, as the man in the Strand said they were; and we are the good hand we always thought we were-and-and-and here Davie, here's five shillings for you, to make up for the sixpence I gave you yesterday, and don't make a beast of yourself, Davie.

"Thank'ee, sir, thankee; ah, you gen'elmen arter all be a good deal like the poor fish, you be."

What d'ye mean by that?

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Why, you see, sir, it makes a mortal deal a difference if one can only get at you while you're in the humour.

THE RACING IN AUGUST.

BY CRAVEN.

The late Goodwood Meeting comes under this chronological arrangement so far as relates to its record' in a monthly periodical, and therefore I have taken the licence of so dealing with it. Perhaps it may seem unnecessary to have made any allusion to a fact sufficiently obvious to those who possess any idea of the craft of publication: but this is not the case with all who read. If I remember rightly, some one of the saints in the Lower House talked about a bill to restrain the publication of the Sunday papers, on the ground that the work of printing on that day was a desecration of the Sabbath, in innocence of the knowledge that it is the Monday's journal which is composed and worked on the Lord's day.

The four last days of July were among the most brilliant ever celebrated in the domain of the lords of Richmond—that is, so far as related to the occupation of the turfite. There may be those who consider such a succession of courses opposed to the axiom, that "enough is as good as a feast:" that it was

"ultra

legem tendere opus ;"