about which such complete apathy was exhibited. It was scarcely ever mentioned, and if two people did allude to it, their conversation never extended beyond "I suppose Macgregor's to win?" "Well, I suppose so; "and then gloomy silence for a quarter of an hour. There was a little curiosity as to who was to ride the favourite; for though most of the papers gave Daley, one announced authoritatively that Snowden had been retained, but none of them seemed to know that Fordham was to have a good chance of breaking the Derby spell which hangs over him. We must say that we think Daley was hardly treated. The poor fellow had worked desperately to get to the weight, and he must have looked forward with great confidence to a repetition of the Hermit coup. As it was, he must congratulate himself that he was not called on to don the "yellow and black," for after winning the "Guineas" in such grand style, he would not have cared to run a moderate fourth for the Derby. When we reached the course, there was no apparent diminution in the number of people, and the carriages and booths on the hill are certainly getting thicker and thicker every year. Apparently the extraordinary favouritism of Macgregor had paralysed the betting, which was conducted in the most languid way, and a friend who was with us to see his first Derby, and had heard so much of "the roar and babel of the ring," observed in a disappointed tone, "they make twice as much noise at Northampton." The "yellow and black" was

not as prominent as we should have expected, though of course it appeared in a few flags and neckties. Macgregor was far too hot a favourite for the public, who object (and very properly) to laying 9 to 4 on any horse, and much prefer a dollar each way" at a long price, and, deprived of Sunshine and Sunlight (the latter's running in the Craven Stakes would probably have revived all the old enthusiasm for him) they did not know what to fall back upon. A 5 was hoisted as soon as the winner of the first race had passed the post, which was considered a good omen for Macgregor, who occupied the same number on the card. Our friend had the courage to confess that he preferred the gaieties of the hill to the sight of the Derby horses in the paddock, and so, having watched him disappear into a booth, to feast his eyes on a nondescript person, "" than whom," as the proprietor of the show announced, unconsciously adopting the phraseology of poor "Nicholas," "a greater wonder since the days of Confucius," we hurried off to see the saddling. On our way there we passed a most elaborately painted cart belonging to the proprietor of "Sarsaparilla, the great American Blood Purifier," who, probably finding that it did not pay as a medicine, had conceived the brilliant idea of bringing it out as cooling drink." He hardly met with the success he deserved, but he had persuaded one man to "have a glass of the wine," and judging by the victim's face, the operation of purifying one's blood, at any rate in its early stages, is decidedly an unpleasant one.

a

The "paddock prophet" was as much out as his brethren, for the colour of the tickets was yellow and black, and he will need another Blair Athol triumph to re-establish his reputation. The first horse we came across was Prince of Wales, in whom we failed to trace any resemblance to Friponnier, who, as a late three-year-old, was one of the grandest thoroughbreds we ever saw and we always recall with pleasure the

sight of the grand chesnut striding away over the R. M., almost pulling French, who had lost his cap, out of the saddle, with Montgoubert struggling hopelessly behind him. "The Prince" is a blood-like, corky-looking, horse, with very high quarters. He has plenty of quality, but there is a lack of power about him, and no one could mistake him for a stayer. Bonny Swell, who was a good deal liked, is a neat and compact colt, without anything very striking about him. He was either uncommonly lazy or else a little overdone, for he seemed to have a decided objection to walking about. Anything richer than the scene at the saddling of Sarsfield, a big chesnut with white stockings, and by no means a bad looking horse, it is impossible to conceive. His trainer, jockey, and several attendants had all come over from Ireland with him, and, from their perfect brogue, were evidently from the purest extraction. He was backed into one of the stalls of the shed under the hedge, and while the trainer held the reins and flourished a big stick just before his eyes, three or four assistants were struggling to get the saddle on, each shouting at the top of his voice, and tendering various pieces of advice all at the same time. The horse naturally objected to all this, and made several well directed efforts to kick out the front of the stall, each kick being followed by a jerk at the reins and a flourish of the shillelah, accompanied by an "Arrah now will ye be aisy?" "Kape quiet do now," &c. Palmerston was decidedly the best looking of the lot (leaving Kingcraft out of the question, as we never saw him except in the race, and were equally unfortunate at Newmarket); he is a very neat, level, brown, and was wonderfully fit, his coat shining like satin : a big, common looking, head, however, somewhat spoiled his appearance. Ely Appleton was just an average Ely, and certainly that sire does not transmit much of his "beauty" to his stock. Joseph Dawson's three attracted a great deal of attention. We described King o' Scots and Normanby last month, and need not do so again. We shall never understand what people can see to admire in the coarse looking "King," while Normanby, whom we begin to fancy does not care to go more than a mile, looked none the worse for his broken blood-vessel or "bloody nose" whichever it was. The appearance of Camel in the string gave great relief to his backers, as a report that he had just been scratched was extensively circulated. We were dreadfully disappointed at his appearance. He is an enormous dingy chesnut, not unlike Pace, without an atom of quality, and his head is disfigured by a pair of huge lop ears. No one could say a word in his favour, and a good judge, after looking at him for a few minutes, remarked emphatically, "If that ugly beast wins I'll never come on a racecourse again."

race.

We had not seen Cymbal since he was sold as an early two-year-old for 1,400 guineas. He has furnished into a nicish colt, and was a good deal admired; still there is a flashy "five furlong" look about him, which quite prepared us for the lack of stamina he exhibited in the As Muster, whose jockey wore no spurs, and who appeared in blinkers, finished third, several good points have been discovered in him our note-book says, weedy and narrow, with bad forelegs and light back ribs ;" and we are not prepared to alter this opinion, even should he win the Leger, for which we do not consider he has the remotest chance, as an additional quarter of a mile is like putting 7 lbs. extra on his back. Enough has been written of Cockney Boy, who is

a fat little chesnut pony, and would do well enough in a butcher's cart, if he could only go the pace, which seems doubtful. The only other Derby horse at all approaching his class was Bedlamite, a chesnut Stockwell, who ran in '67, and, if we remember rightly, occupied the same position in the race as did the illustrious "Boy." Nobleman, though a bloodlike, well-shaped colt, is evidently very moderate, and it was a pity that Mr. Bowes, who had not been at Epsom since 1835, had not a more promising representative. We did not see Macgregor till he passed through the paddock on his way to the starting-post, after cantering with the rest. "I've come to see you win at last, Mr. Fordham," said a humble admirer of the great jockey; but "the demon" did not look half as pleased with his mount as one would have expected, and seemed to feel a "prescience of defeat." The horse looked quite as well as he did at Newmarket, but he does not fill the eye like a Derby winner; and take away his neat pretty head, and excellent shoulders and back, and he really has not a single good point left. Indeed we could quite understand that a lady, who had been watching the favourite with the greatest interest, could not "see why this horse is sure to beat all the others so easily."

Immediately the flag fell, we ran to a place on the hill where we had an uninterrupted view of the race from Tattenham Corner, round which the field swept just as we reached our station. A quarter of a mile from home, Fordham was moving on Macgregor, and, though he did not seem very hard at work, the horse was evidently beaten. For a few strides we fancied it was to be a second edition of Caractacus's year, as the 66 to 1 Muster was going wonderfully strong and well, and seemed to have a little the best of Palmerston; but the moment French let him out, Kingcraft shot away from the pair in regular Gladiateur style, and the race was over. What shall be said of this complete reversal of the Two Thousand form? We cannot believe that Macgregor's exercise canter at Bath made him run about 21 lbs. below his Newmarket form. The only reason that we can suggest for his defeat is that his upright pasterns could not bring him from Tattenham Corner. Vespasian and Vauban always came down-hill like cats upon hot bricks from this same cause; and we are strengthened in our belief from the fact that Fordham had no doubt of victory until the horse got into the straight. Doncaster must solve the mystery, and, as probably neither Kingcraft nor Macgregor will run until then, if the latter wins the rubber, which we fully believe he will, we shall consider it a pretty good proof that our view is correct. We waited for the next race, just to get a peep at King of the Forest, of whom we had heard great things. He came at the finish with one of the most tremendous rushes we ever saw, but could never quite overhaul the smart little Bicycle, who fairly "chopped" him for speed at the start. A few yards further and he would have beaten her easily, while his recent performances have proved him to be very superior to her.

Friday was not nearly so pleasant a day as Wednesday; it was far hotter, and there was a great deal of dust. The first appearance of the own brother to Sunlight was the feature of the Two-year-old Plate. He is a big bay, with plenty of power, but rather course, and looked as much furnished and filled out as a four-year-old. He does not share his brother's "nervousness," for he walked up the course as sedately as

a way

an old hunter. His forelegs were bandaged, but as this is they have" at Russley, it may mean nothing; and as he was deficient in preparation, he will probably improve on the form he showed here, but we do not fancy he will ever make a great performer. We had never seen Sunshine before, and so hastened to pay our court to her as soon as we entered the paddock. This was rather a difficult matter, as she was striding up and down under the hedge at a tremendous pace, and kept us quite on the trot. She is a grand-looking mare, with great power and symmetry; but there was a decidedly soft look about her that told of a hurried preparation, and there can be no doubt that about three weeks more work would have made her a different animal. Bright Weather, a big white-faced chesnut, was in the paddock, but did not start. Little Pâté was quite the public favourite. She is a very pretty symmetrical filly, only just lacking size to be quite at the top of the tree, and her condition was simply perfect. Considering that she ran twenty-three races last year, and took part in about half-a-dozen more at the beginning of this season, and yet was perfectly sound and fresh, it is pretty plain that early racing cannot be quite as fatal to an animal as has been represented. After a long search we found Joseph Dawson quietly putting Hester to rights, in a field on the Durdans estate. The filly looked well, though not so cool and free from excitement as she was at Newmarket. Still her backers were perfectly satisfied with her appearance, and went away and backed her against the field like men. She is one of the most beautiful fillies ever seen, and but for her drooping quarters would have attained perfection. Gertrude looked light and weedy, and was uncommonly fine-drawn; while Gamos has grown into a big, leggy, flat-sided mare, and looks like a thorough non stayer, so after her Bath performance no one paid her any attention. Carfax, on the other hand, is a really fine filly, and it is a pity she is not as good as she looks. The most we can say for Hawthorndale is that she could probably give Cockney Boy 14lb. The fillies certainly beat the colts easily enough, as far as appearance was concerned, for one could not have selected a quartet from the Derby field that would borne comparison with Hester, Sunshine, Carfax, and Pâté. We adopted the same plan as on Wednesday, and after seeing the start, which took place at the very first attempt, ran to our place on the hill. Hester was disposed of even sooner than her companion in misfortune-Macgregor-for after rounding Tattenham Corner she was really never in it. At the distance the three placed were very level, and it appeared anybody's race; then Pâté gave way, and in the last hundred yards Gamos settled Sunshine, with a little in hand. To our mind Sunshine was beaten simply from being above herself. She ran as gamely as ever, but she could not come again and again, as she did in the Middle Park, for no amount of gameness can make up for want of condition. She was pullling double a short distance from home, and looked like coming in alone; but, like many generous animals, the moment she has done pulling she is beaten. We never saw so many blank faces as there were after the race. It is perfectly hopeless to try to reconcile Gamos's Epsom victory with her miserable performance at Bath. Mr. Graham does not seem inclined to unbosom himself to the public, so we shall have to wait in the hope that future performances will throw some light on the subject.

The Grand Prix was a great failure as far as our horses were concerned, for Prince of Wales, Nobleman, Coutts, and Recorder were very poor representatives of England. The race will never be a really international one while it takes place between Epsom and Ascot; added to which, there is undoubtedly a very strong feeling against Sunday racing in this country. It is a pity that Sornette is not in the Leger, for she would give Kingcraft and Macgregor all their work to beat her. The hard ground did not materially reduce the size of the Ascot fields, though it deprived us of a second view of Kingcraft, and induced Prince Pless for some unaccountable reason to withdraw Blue Gown from the Cup, for which he seemed to have an excellent chance, and send him to Lyons, to carry 10st. 7lb. over a course like a brickfield. The result was just what might have been expected, and we feel very sorry that the Prince has made such a poor beginning with his plucky 5,000 guinea purchase. Sir Joseph Hawley had quite Mr. Merry's Epsom luck, and could only manage to win a single race throughout the week; though he certainly did not spare his horses, and was especially hard on Rosicrucian and Asterope. The Russley stable was in capital form on Tuesday and Wednesday, winning four good races; but it could do nothing later in the week. However, Mr. Merry will probably have the winter favourite once more; as though Perth, owing to his unlucky Windsor accident, may not run again, King of the Forest completely wiped out his Epsom defeat, and his performance in the Queen's Stand Plate was about the smartest thing of the year. Perfume, Digby Grand, and Pâté, can all gallop over the T.Y.C., but they stood no chance with the winner. This proves King of the Forest to be uncommonly speedy, and from the severity of the Ascot course it is pretty certain that he can stay; but it is one more instance of the hopelessness of the older horses trying to cope with two-year-olds at the present weight for age. We hope the Jockey Club will soon take this matter seriously in hand, and thoroughly revise the scale, when we shall see horses remain much longer on the turf, instead of retiring to the stud as five-year-olds.

Rogues and over-rated horses seem to select the Prince of Wales's Stakes to recompense their unhappy owners for previous disappointments; unfortunately, however, the amende honorable generally comes too late, for after losing small fortunes at Newmarket and Epsom, they almost invariably run unbacked at Ascot. Breadalbane, Rustic, and Martyrdom were all animals of this stamp, and King o' Scots is a worthy addition to the illustrious band. He certainly had not much to beat, but he lay in front from start to finish, and never gave anything else a chance. He is just the horse to drive an owner and trainer out of their minds, for we know as a fact, that last year, even when Hester was at her best, he was always superior to her in private. The much-talked of Royal Head, own brother to Ostregar, at length put in an appearance, and showed form that would have made him very dangerous had he been allowed to run in the last Cesarewitch. The four victories of the "spots" were not the least pleasant feature of the meeting, and the way in which King Cole upset the odds laid on that miserable wretch Sunlight, was one of the most remarkable things ever seen. The latter came into the straight with a lead of more than a dozen lengths, while Snowden had been hard on