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editorial capacity, to bestow on the principal Farmers of the Revenues of Pleasure a shower of thanks and encomia we would, if we could, gratefully translate into a golden one. Foremost of these liberal caterers for the public, who may rather be termed portions of art than mere men of business, are those who have right worthily and fastidiously directed the French and Italian Theatres. For what divine strains, what exquisite "stops and reaches of art," what delicious feasts of the senses, nay, and of intellect, are we not their obliged debtors! Short or long as our lives may be, have they not inscribed, in the month's memories, an imperishable record of soul-stirring hours? and shall we not bear honest witness to the same? We do so, and in the impartial spirit befitting our vocation, while recollections of Doché, Dejazet, and Bouffé, Grisi, Brambilla, Moltini, Persiani, Mario, and Fornasari, fleet invisibly around us, sylphids of the senses. Then we have acquired the knowledge of Paganini the second, which is something desirable, even in these wonder-working days; and we have heard again Rossini's Stabat Mater, which, like Collins's Ode on the Passions, is more excellent at each repetition, and in which the inflammatus of Grisi, and the tender notes of Mario, more especially tickle the ear. To condense our notices is quite a disagreeable task, when we recal the fun of the Haymarket, the Princess's, the Adelphi, and the highly meritorious performances of the Surrey, of Astley's, and of the Strand Theatres.

At the PRINCESS'S THEATRE we have many novelties. There is the "Angel of the Attic," from the French répertoire of equivoque. There is a musical melo-drama called "The Swedish Ferryman ;" and there are "My Wife's Second Floor," and "The Devil's in it." Miss E. Stanley improves much in her acting. "The Three Graces" (au masculin), continue to attract nightly. In this little burletta Wieland's personification of the god Pan, entitles him to a foremost rank in the pantomimic history of modern times; like Grimaldi of yore, he is perfection in his own line.

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Mr. Charles Kean, an approved good actor as times go, and one whom we always take some trouble to hear and see, is performing with deserved success at the HAYMARKET. Several pieces of various degrees of merit and success have been brought out at this theatre. Louison," another version from the same source as "The Angel of the Attic." "The Little Devil" has received praise from so many quarters, we need but recommend it, together with the farce of the "Double Bedded Room," to those who have not seen either, and who wish to get rid of blue devils. Mr. and Mrs. Chas. Matthews, and Miss Julia Bennett (a young lady from whom much is expected, and much will be obtained, of excellent in acting) sustain the principal characters, and the interest in the former very admirably throughout; while in the latter Farren and Mrs. Glover compel you to indulge in hearty guffaws of laughter. The absurdity of the conjurations in this farce produce great fun. Would that we had young actresses of as natural a turn as this eminently good one, Mrs. Glover.

The operas at the SURREY have during the last four weeks drawn crowded houses. "Love in a Village" is gotten up admirably.

ASTLEY'S programmes promise much; and, truth to tell, the en

tertainment by no means belies the bill of fare in the former. Mr. Batty's stud of horses should certainly be seen by every admirer of the equestrian art. The performances of the horses go far to prove the excellent manner in which they have been trained. Next week the French equestrian, Monsieur Tournaire, will be the novelty. The dioramic scenes taken from the life of Napoleon, are really good.

There is attraction enough at that admirably sustained little theatre of the ADELPHI to satisfy the most magic-loving, or minstrel, or variety-loving of mortals; and turning from such like successful resorts of the Muses, we are compelled to revert to the last of the two late houses, not of Parliament, but of the legitimate drama. DRURY LANE has fallen! Will it ever be restored? The last month has witnessed a royal visit to its chartered boards, and the speech of its certainly classical lessee, wherein he shows it is from the want of funds and foresight in previous managers, and not from the want of public patronage, that he has been forced to throw up his, the best management for many years, of Old Drury. Where are we now to go for the drama! We could sing a requiem over this most sad downfall of the spirited attempt to represent Shakspeare worthily.

The NATIONAL GALLERY EXHIBITION of this year is now an ofttold tale, but in the capacity of noticers of that which savours of more than ordinary talent, we must allude to our several visits at this place as of great gratulation for our country's gradual improvement in artistical knowledge of the combinations of a good picture. The exhibitions of this year are all good beyond precedent. That of the SOCIETY OF BRITISH ARTISTS, Suffolk Street, Pall Mall, demands the frequent attendance of the encouragers of English genius. Prentis's moral satires after Hogarth in the tripartite picture, A sponge defined, and that of Morbid Sympathy, are admirable. Thurlstone's portraits improve annually, and they are always high. bred. His Spanish subjects are very interesting. So are those of Lotilla. Zeither's pleasing performances; those of Clint, Weir, Holland, Bingess; Miss E. Drummond's portraits; Herring's capital stable subjects; Pidding's and Wilson's demand repeated notice. We mention those only we had time to "fix," as the Americans say.

The gallery of THE NEW SOCIETY OF WATER-COLOURS, in Pall Mall, is replete with interest: we passed three hours there with gratification last week. We have no space for a detailed description of its works of art. But when such pictures as those of Cromwell and Ireton intercepting a letter of Charles the First (L. Haghes); John Absolon's Vicar of Wakefield taken to Gaol; Weigall's Council of Quacks; Aaron Penley's, Oliver's, Lindsay's several improved productions; Corbauld's Jesus at the house of Simon the Pharisee; Wehnert's Martin Luther; Kealing's Gil Blas, with the Parasite at Pennoflor's; Corbauld's admirable Christ and the Woman of Samaria at the Well of Jacob;-when such pictures as these are to be viewed as national works, they will ever be appreciated.

The POLYTECHNIC is enriched greatly since our last notice. In this and the ADELAIDE GALLERY an age's progress in science is explained in half an hour. The Midsummer holiday folks of all growths will have an abundant treat in both of these resorts.

STATE OF THE ODDS.

Cotherstone has contributed his share in sifting the chaff from the corn. As it usually happens when a favourite wins, the settling has been anything but a good one. The "Gurney" of the year appears to be a Mr. R********, who, after making and breaking all kinds of promises, has now "shut up" altogether; and should he continue in his present humour, we must beg Mr. Gurney's pardon, for it is certainly an injustice classing him with such a wilful defaulter. The largest winners (i.e. book winners) are Mr. Bowes, Col. Anson, Mr. O'Brien, the Scotts, and Lord George Bentinck. The losers would not thank us were we to give their names; we may, however, state that John Day is not among them, and had he not hedged at such a sacrifice after the Craven at Epsom, would have been among the best of those on the right side. One gentleman was taken ill scon after the race; some without his excuse have not yet appeared; many promise to pay in full, others again in part; while a good man or two has lost his money, or a bad boy has won it. As a set-off to this, the Oaks won, by an outsider, was a very harmless race; Poison putting the Oaks into Mr. Ford's pocket, and little but the Oaks.

Though there has been some business done every week during the past month on the Northumberland Plate, the Goodwood and Liverpool Cups, with a strong bet now and then on the St. Leger, or next year's Derby, we shall confine ourselves to the prices of Monday, June 26th, being the last day of the month that there has been anything like a muster at the Corner.

For the Plate, The Era, on the strength of a trial, came from 8 to 1 to rather less than half those odds; eight or ten others were backed, but to nothing like the amount of the crack. Gorhambury and Charles XII. are head-and-head for the Goodwood Cup; they are both, it will be observed, at the same figure, but at closing the old horse had a shade the best of it. The pair visit Newcastle, pro formâ, for the 5lb. allowance. 10 to 1 taken about Siricol, and 15 to 1 ready, right and left, to be invested against The Squire; Ralph is dead amiss.

Scott's lot is backed for the St. Leger at 6 to 4 on it, or 2 to 1 would be taken against Cotherstone. Rattan, from his Ascot running, is now as good a favourite as anything for the Derby. The Ugly Buck, in John Day's hands, disputes the premiership with him.

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Col. Charritie's Gorhambury
Sir G. Heathcote's Siricol

Mr. Beresford's Diderot
Mr. Bell's The Squire

1000 to 60 agst. Mr. Crockford's Rattan for the Derby.

AUGUST, 1843.

EMBELLISHMENTS.

66 POISON," WINNER OF THE OAKS, 1843. ENGRAVED BY HACKER,

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THE YACHTING SEASON AT COWes.
TURFOMANIA. BY AN OXONIAN
SOUTHAMPTON RACES. BY CRAVEN
SPORTING WRITERS. BY NIMROD
TRICKS OF THE TURF. BY CASTOR

A "QUEER" PACK OF HOUNDS. BY BEE'S-WING

OBSERVATIONS ON THE WRASSE TRIBE. . BY PISCATOR
GEORGE HAYTER AND EDWIN LANdseer. BY A VOYAGER

FAIL THOU NOT. BY CALDER CAMPBELL

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ROUGH RECOLLECTIONS OF RAMBLES ABROAD AND AT HOME.

BY MAJOR CALDER CAMPBELL

THE HORSE, AND HIS MANAGEMENT AT HOME AND ABROAD.

BY H. D. RICHARDSON, S.E.R.P.S.E.

THE WOODCOCK IN LOUISIANA. BY T. B. T.

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TO READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS.

We cannot make use of "The Derby Lottery." To our mind,

no particular interest attaches to the biography of "Neddy Whiffes," nor, indeed, to that of some other Neddies, whose biographers have been fortunate enough to find publishers of the same ilk as their heroes.

News three weeks after date does not suit modern readers. This we have already declared to be our opinion.

We are in arrears with several of our old correspondents, who, nevertheless, are not forgotten.

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