The Pater-familias thus speaks of German horse-shoeing:

"I happened to see a horse going to be shod in the Beast Market, and it was a sight to draw old Joe Bradley's eyes out of his head. By what I've seen of the German cattle, they are far from remarkable for spirit or vice, though, to judge by the blacksmith's contrivances, you would suppose the whole breed was by Beelzebub, out of the Devil's dam. There was the horse, what you or I should call a Quaker's nag, shut in a cage like a wild beast, with a wooden bar to keep his head up, and another to keep it down, and a bar over his back, in case of rearing, and one under his belly, to prevent his lying down, and a bar or chain behind him, to hinder his lashing out. If all that ceremony is fit and proper, thought I, for one of our English farriers to take a horse's hoof in his lap, mayhap a young spicy colt, without a bar, or chain, or anything, can be nothing else but a tempting of Providence." Pater-familias loquitur again :

"I wish you could see the breed of pigs in these parts. They are terribly long in the legs and thin in the flanks, and would cut a far better figure at a Coursing Meeting than a Cattle Show. Some of them run quite lean enough for greyhounds."

MONTHLY MEMORABILIA.

NOTWITHSTANDING the commencement of the season was far from propitious to the fox-hunter, the year closed on a more than average return of good runs. In some cases the sport was of extraordinary excellence, as, for instance, with the Brocklesby and the Burton. Sir Richard Sutton had killed his forty brace of foxes when the frost stopped him.*

"Is the taste for steeple-chasing on the advance, or is its popularity waning?" This question was lately proposed to us, and we gave our impression as favourable to the latter contingency. As yet, nothing first-rate has come off, though there have been, certainly, some few contests of the kind that brought out horses of acknowledged celebrity. To confine our notice to the steeple-chases of the past month, we find, at St. Albans, once the hot-bed of the sport, a sad falling off in the poetry of the thing." Five" eminently professional" came to the post for a Sweepstakes of 10 sovs. of their respective moneys on the last day of the year; and, after the thing was over, the winner was left to dine and carry on the evening " alone in his glory," the others departing in dudgeon. To speak of the affair as flatteringly as truth will permit, it came off" far from satisfactorily."

On the same day as the foregoing failure, the Berkeley Hunt Steeple-chase was run for at Cheltenham, under more promising auspices. The field was short, consisting but of a quartet: but the race was interesting, a new man, a Mr. Lovesey, shewing on The Doctor, and coming in with a long lead, but, eventually, being pronounced hors de combat, in consequence of leaving one of the flags on the wrong hand.

In very many quarters, strong reflections are current on the subject of country handicapping. We do not think the affair is managed in a very masterly manner, either in the home districts or farther a-field: and were it accomplished with ever so great talent, "bad is the best." Still, however degraded the occasion, "fair play is a jewel;" and we hope the whole working of the process, during the coming season, may be vigilantly watched. We promise to keep our eyes upon it, and, where we see cause, shall use little ceremony in giving our opinion.

The disputed Queen's Plate, at the last Shrewsbury Races, has been awarded to the owner of Lugwardine.

The Hippodrome will be opened for racing on the Wednesday after Epsom, when a stake of £300 will be given by the proprietors.

The Hambledon Hunt Races are fixed for the 29th of April, to take place on Soberton Down.

We do not pledge ourselves for the authenticity of our correspondent's statement: in fact, we have heard a very different account.--ED.

THE DYING RACER.

BY J. E. CARPENTER, ESQ.

THOU'RT dying: thou'rt dying, my beautiful steed!
That served me, and saved, in the hour of my need!
That won me a pathway to wealth and renown,
When fortune forsook, and when friendship could frown:
I loved thee, thou dying one, e'en as a friend-
The first on whose truth I might surely depend:
Thou bravest; most true; must I speak the farewell?
No, I'm bound to thy side, and I yield to the spell.

I had hoped to have seen thee pass calmly away
In some green, sheltered paddock, by gentle decay;
To have nursed thee-and petted-and braided thy mane,
As I thought on old times, and thy honours again :
Yet why should I mourn thee, my noble one? here
Bright, glorious—though brief-was thy gallant career :
And thy fame cannot die, while men name thee, and say,
"The courser that's gone, was the best of his day."

How
my heart has beat high, when a thousand bright eyes
Have followed thy track with delight and surprise,
As thou seemedst to fly, like the darted jereed,
From the post to the goal with the flash of thy speed.
And now to behold thee, in agony there-

In mercy thy dying convulsions I spare

By the hand that caress'd thee thy destiny meet,

Soh! a shot and a shock-and thou'rt dead at my feet.

They have laid, by the course, the good racer that's dead:
They have placed the green turf, that he graced, o'er his head;

In the field of his glory his fate they deplore

He has fame and a grave-could a mortal have more?

Then farewell, my gallant one! costlier shrine

Hath rarely held ashes more honoured than thine :

And seldom hath marble been ever decreed,

To tell of a course true as thine was, my steed!

A WOLF KILLED BY FOXHOUNDS.

COMMUNICATED BY NIMROD.

A RATHER extraordinary fact was made known to me about two months back, by the present manager of the Boulogne foxhounds. Having a larger kennel than he had occasion for, he advertised a certain portion of it for sale, in the Paris papers; found a customer in the Count Latour du Pin; and the following is the detail of the journey of the drafts to his Château, in the province of the Seine and Maineconsequently, a long distance from Boulogne. You shall first have the master's authority, and then that of his servant.

"The man I sent with the hounds to the Count Latour du Pin, arrived here on his return, last night. He had written to me from Cambray, and, as his letter contains an extraordinary account of his journey, I send it to you for your amusement. I certainly should not have given credence to such an occurrence as the one which he describes as having happened, had I not received a very excellent character of the man from England; but I am bound to do so, not merely on that consideration, but in consequence of the Count partly corroborating his statement, by asking, in his letter to me acknowledging the receipt of the hounds, "by what means so many of the hounds are wounded?" (Be it known, the man in care of the hounds was quite ignorant of the French language). I have cross-examined the man, whose name is Jenkins, and all that I can get from him is, that the hounds did run down and kill a wolf, although he believes it had been previously slightly wounded by some chasseurs in the forest from whence it had been driven. He says he had the head with him at Cambray, and took it to Origny, but it became so offensive that he was obliged to leave it there, and it was nailed to the stable door. Cambray being twenty miles out of his direct route, and his being led thither, in that direction, at least, by the hounds, is a further corroboration of the occurrence, added to the fact of his not arriving at the Count's house until the eighth, instead of the sixth day. He describes the Count's establishment as one on a very extensive scale-thirty-five servants; twenty-seven horses in very fine condition; eight carriages; a lot of colts, by Tarrare-everything, in fact, en Prince.'

The following is the letter of Jenkins, detailing his adventurous expedition :

"Cambray, October 17, 1839. "SIR,-At Amiens I had the pleasure of giving you a favourable account of the behaviour of the hounds on the journey. But here 1 am, at least twenty miles out of my way, through the hounds taking after a wolf, which they killed yesterday, between Amiens and La Frère, A boy was blowing a horn, and they took into a cover, and I did not get them out till nine o'clock at night, and was obliged to leave Gaudy and Grasper in the cover all night; but a man brought them to me in the morning, all safe and sound. I then set out for St. Quentin, with a cord run through four couples of them, dividing them into three separate lots, and went at a slow pace for about ten miles; but they got entangled several times, and I was at last obliged to get

down and separate them by cutting the cord, and went on very well till three o'clock, or thereabouts. Then, where some gentlemen were shooting in a cover, I saw something at a great distance, run across the road; I supposed it to be one of the gentlemen's dogs, and took no further notice of it, till I came up to the spot, when Pedler gave tongue first, but I could hardly tell, for one and all followed, and away they went to the left. I have rode upon Sempstress, and I am afraid I have hurt her, in endeavouring to stop them, but all to no purpose, for they ran like race-horses over an open country, straight as they could run, to a point; and I was pretty near them for about thirty minutes, but after that the old mare began to get blowed, and they got out of sight, and for two hours I thought I should never see them again. The mare recovered and went for an hour very well, but I did not get up to them till six o'clock. I rode the mare till the blood run out of both her nostrils, and she fell over a bank upon her left side, and my left leg under her for at least fifteen minutes, and me struggling to get it from under her, which I did, leaving the jack-boot under her, and made the best run I could after the hounds, holloaing and blowing, when I had breath to do so. At last I came up to them, or them up to me, with the head and a bone, first one and then the other carrying them; but I think the first I met with was old Farnborough. Trojan has got a bad bite over his eye; Dædalus, bit through the shoulder; Belman through the leg, and several others have slight wounds, which I think little of. When I got to the mare, she was up and picking grass, which I did not expect to see, as I left her for dead and I got her into a road, and a man came up to me, and I inquired, and found I was within a league of Cambray, where I got the mare to, by tying her to a cart, and left her there for the night. I am now about to start for Saint and do not think I shall get further; and to-morrow, * and next day to Marle, therefore I cannot reach Bono till Monday. I judge, by the mouth of the wolf, that he was a young one, and probably roused, and might have been shot at, by the sportsmen in the cover. Clasher had slipped his couples, and there was only three others that was uncoupled, therefore it was fortunate they took the open; if it had been woodlands it might have been of greater consequence. The hounds crossed a river, to my astonishment, in their couples, and I had to ride two miles for a bridge, it being a large river; the bridge was near a village called Bonairs; I find I shall have to cross it again in my way to St. Quentin. I have had fine weather till yesterday, and it has rained hard from the time I started from La Frère, till I got to Cambray; and I should say it was a good scenting day, as I consider it laid breast-high, by the run of the hounds, and I consider it a good scenting country. So soon as I have delivered the hounds at the Count's, I shall make the best of my way home, as soon as the mare is rested.

for

:

"From your obedient servant,
"ROBERT JENKINS."

Your readers will, I am sure, agree with me in considering the foregoing letter to be not only expressed in really classical language, which that suitable to the subject ought to be esteemed, but a clear

• The names of these towns not legible.