their sire, they have also, as a rule, been cursed with that unequal temper, which has on so many occasions militated against their success. Thormanby must rest his fame on Crocus and Thorwaldsen, although Ironmaster may yet confer further celebrity on his sire, whose prestige has been sadly damaged by overwork in the labours of love during his first season. Windhound and Hobbie Noble were most unquestionably uncertain foal-getters, nor do the stock of Pantaloon, as a rule, show that aptitude for the increase and multiplication of their species which is so desirable in horses serving at a high figure. Therefore we are inclined to hope for greater things from Thormanby's produce, when some judicious limit shall have been placed on his amours, which have hitherto been too free and promiscuous, as in the case of Blair Athol and others. Thormanby's old rival, Thunderbolt, has begotten something out of the common in the speedy Electricity, and others of his stock have shown such form, as to cause a further requisition for his services during the present season. The Hermione colt must make or mar the fortunes of Tim Whiffler; while Trumpeter's largest winner, the Duke of Beaufort, is but a poor successor to the notorious Lady Elizabeth, and the long list of celebrities which placed Mr. Hill's horse so high up on the list of successful sires last season. Beyond his Grace, there is nothing in Trumpeter's list of winners above plating form, and no horse can be expected to keep up his patent of reputation on such unstable grounds as those upon which the son of Orlando found his claims. Underhand's winnings are somewhat unduly swelled by the rather inglorious victories of The Spy, and Van Galen shows no scion to rival the deeds of his single 'swallow,' Tim Whiffler. Vedette is the sire of many winners of small races, but for action, quality, and neatness, he has never begotten anything half so good as Speculum, whose racing qualifications were of no mean order in the early part of the season. Vex was more fortunate than deserving, and the deeds of the remainder are not worth recording. Fortunio and Géant de Batailles have signalized themselves above the other descendants of Voltigeur, that high priest of the Blacklock blood,' although rumour is rife about Brennus, who will indeed have to throw his sword into the scale which now kicks the beam against the dead weight of public opinion and the persistent invectives of a relentless foe. Fairwind, Mandrake, and Typhon, are the best of the progeny of the defunct Weatherbit, whose stock have been mostly of the hardy and honest sort; and of these Mandrake is clearly entitled to a certificate of firstclass order, as few better horses over a distance of ground are to be found in these so-called degenerate and declining days of the Turf. Wild Oats and Romping Girl are good advertisements for Wild Dayrell, but prejudice has been engendered against the staying powers of his stock by the almost universal failure of his scions as three-year olds. After brilliant two-year old careers, misfortune or mismanagement have attended them in after life, and the memory of The Rake will be fresh in the recollection of all.

Young Melbourne is slowly, but not the less surely, working himself towards the top of the tree as a sire, and to have begotten such a horse as The Earl, is, in itself, a sufficient recommendation for breeders to keep his list full for many a year to come. Kingsland, Poinsettia, Prince Imperial, and Lord Glasgow's promising threeyear old fillies, are more illustrious scions than it falls to the lot of every horse to beget; and no sire has fought his way more determinedly, or under greater disappointments to the front rank than Young Melbourne. And we most heartily concur in the judicious choice which has selected him on Her Majesty's Service' at Hampton Court, where he will be found no unworthy successor to the grand old horse who has so lately passed away.

Thus have we hastily glanced at the list of successful sires which the labours of the statistician have presented to us, and have endeavoured briefly to call attention to the most illustrious of their progeny, upon whose past deeds so great a share of future patronage for their progenitors will depend. Every tree must be judged by its fruits consequently we have refrained from commenting on the prospects of those late aspirants to fame who have as had no yet opportunity of showing their worth as fathers of our 'kings to be.' Nor have we gone out of our way to bestow even a passing notice upon some whose efforts at the Stud have belied the reputations they gained upon the Turf; nor upon others whose ignoble career as racers may perchance hereafter be forgotten in the brilliancy of their successes as sires. Breeders must learn and study for themselves the interesting results of crosses in all their various permutations and combinations. Chance may occasionally produce a favourable issue, but in the long run he will be the most successful, who can supply the garnered teachings of his experience to sound theoretical reasoning, and whose knowledge of the secrets of nature, acquired by diligent care and observation, is brought to bear upon problems which others are content to leave unsolved, or to resign their solution to those charlatans and sophists who lay claim to omniscience, and to the unwary are a delusion and a snare. Despite of a great Turf crisis, the effects of which are slowly passing away, and in the face of Sir Joseph Hawley's propositions relative to the early running of two-year olds, Stud Prospects were never brighter than at present; nor as long as so many and valuable strains of blood and in such infinite variety are left to us, need we fear the deterioration of the thoroughbred horse or the decline of our national pastime.

AMPHION.

SPORTING PICTURES.

THE power of realizing the pleasures of the past with all the keenness of present enjoyment, is a rare and enviable one; and believing as we do that the pleasures of the Chase are amongst the most enjoyable that fall to the lot of mcrtal man, we feel grateful to the poet or the artist when he enables us by some vivid creation of his own to recal past delights—

And live the bright days of our youth o'er again.'

Who can forget the delight of the November morning, with the southerly wind and cloudy sky-sure heralds of a scent; whenThe Hunt meet around the lee covert afar,

And awaiting the burst, smoke their silent cigar?'

or who can recal that burst, the rattling joyousness of the scene, without feeling again the blood tingling to the very tips of his fingers? In casting our eyes backwards, the features of some particular runsfew, indeed, we admit-seemed carved in indestructible characters. on the memory. Here was the dip we reached only just in time to see the sternmost hound crossing the opposite ridge, as he slipped, as it were, out of sight. Here was the stream where, with panting flank and almost glasing eyeball, Skylark,* pure in blood and gentlest of her race, and yet withal with a spirit so high and free, that she would go till she dropped, gave the first warnings of distress as she picked her way across the water; and here was the finish witnessed only by some choice few out of the 150 who met for that run. These and such-like recollections are intensely enjoyable by those who can realize them, and it is this quality that has made the sporting picture so popular in England; and yet, to tell the truth, neither the poet nor the artist has hitherto been very successful with the subject. How very few really good descriptions of the horse can be found in the whole range of ancient and modern poetry! The description in the Book of Job is commonly referred to as complete, while Homer and Shakespeare are admitted to have known and appreciated him: but these apart, how few have succeeded in their efforts to give the true character of the horse! Burns, in his address to his old mare Maggie, draws the horse of his country with his usual power, but she was but a Scotch galloway, and he knew of none other. Somerville, again, describes the old-fashioned hunter of a hundred years ago, such as Sartorius delighted to paint him, but all the higher qualities of the noble animal are scarcely touched by either; and if this be so in the poet, how much more in the artist! There are many who have been able to take an excellent likeness of the racer in his box or paddock, but they fail when they try to invest him with all his attributes in the field. Landseer has idealized

*

Skylark was a celebrated hunter of the late accomplished sportsman, George Templer, of Stover. VOL XVI. NO. 108.

M

the dog, and Rosa Bonheur the ox, but both alike fail with the horse, the Horse Fair' of the latter, and the Queen's Pony' of the former, to the contrary notwithstanding. His fiery impatience at the meet-his boundless form and strength in the first burst-his quiet settling down to his work as the pace quickens and the distance extends, and then his distress and gameness as the long run draws to a close-all these are subjects for the highest art, and yet rarely, very rarely, attained by artists of the greatest professional eminence. We have been led to these reflections by the contemplation of some Sporting pictures by Mr. Shayer; and with the full sense of the great difficulty of accomplishing in verse, what we think he has been so successful in with the pencil, we venture to annex as a pendant the following description, taken from the life, by an excellent Sportsman, now, alas! no more, of

THE LITTLE BLOOD HACK.'

'Old Herod's rich blood in the veins of his sire,
From the desert Kochlain drew vigour and fire;
His dam a New Forester, active and wild,
From glorious Marske drew her line undefiled.
With free action, high-mettled, and starting each vein,
O'er his glossy bay coat, with black legs, tail, and mane,
High-withered, long-reached, and a broad span his back,
He was foaled for a pet-was The Little Blood Hack.
With his taper brown muzzle, hawk's eye, and swan neck,
And a star in his forehead, the only white speck,
Round foot, clear flat legs, swelling arm, and deep chest,
Low fillets, square hocks, and his temper the best.
When fleet across country the merry pack go,
And the welkin resounds with the loud Tally Ho!
With the Squire's eldest son-a mere boy-on his back,
Close up to their sterns went The Little Blood Hack.

• But years
had gone by, and the boy a young man,
To prepare for the world has at Oxford began;
Still his favourite is with him, unblemished no more,
There's a splint swelling high on the near leg before,
And the iron has left its deep seams on his hocks,
Still a picture to look at, he stands in his box;
Or with terrets all covered, and harness jet black,
He leads in a tandem, The Little Blood Hack.

'Grown aged and withered, a favourite still,
Fat, lazy, and left to do just as he will,

The Little Blood Hack in a paddock now thrives,
Or draws the old lady about the green drives.

Or the children upon him will get up astride,

Teazing Robert, the old groom, to teach them to ride,
Till his life he resigns to old age's attack,

And sleeps 'neath the chestnut, The Little Blood Hack.'

SADLER v. SMITH.

THE judgment in Sadler v. Smith is only what might have been expected from the proceedings at the trial. The Lord Chief Justice, as is his wont, allowed his feelings to overbear his judgment; and the plaintiff was fortunate enough to have him, in consequence, as advocate as well as judge. We have no doubt that Sir. A. Cockburn in this matter thinks he has been on the side of justice and true sport. But in truth a greater blow could hardly have been dealt against them both. Unfortunately the stakes, in cases like the present, are seldom sufficient to allow of a case being carried into a Court of Appeal; the present judgment, therefore, will probably be allowed to stand, and no referee will be safe. There can be no question but that the decision would be reversed in a higher Court; but meanwhile, what are referees to do? We say unhesitatingly, ignore the judgment entirely. As a legal judgment, there is not a lawyer who would not pronounce it worthless. As a decision upon the facts, it has only to be examined a little to show its complete absurdity. Now, what is the law, and what are the facts of the case? Kelley and Sadler make a match to scull from Putney to Mortlake, upon the usual terms, and with the usual proviso that the decision of the referee is to be final-the meaning of such an arrangement being thoroughly understood among sportsmen to be, that the referee is to be sole judge of the rules and laws applicable, as well as of the facts; and that his decision cannot be impugned unless mala fides could be shown. We are by no means sure even, in this last case, whether mala fides in the referee alone would be sufficient. We are rather inclined to think that the party claiming the stakes would have to be connected with the fraud, in order to defeat his claim. It is difficult to discover the precise grounds of the Chief Justice's decision. There is a jumble of the law and the facts which is very distressing, and which forms. an appropriate sequel to the trial. It is really quite astounding to think that so much ignorance could exist upon such a point as this in these days. The Judge, the Counsel, and the Jury seem to have known nothing about such a matter as racing. Indeed, Serjeant Ballantine admitted that he knew nothing of the subject, and is perfectly innocent of the slightest notion as to which is the handle and which the blade of an oar. What a pity it is that more of those connected with the trial were not not equally frank! We believe at last Mr. Brickwood was taken in on one side; but with that exception there was a most refreshing absence of all prejudice upon the matter. The Chief Justice seemed to look upon it as the first race ever rowed from Putney to Mortlake. The fact is, that no one ever dreamed of doubting the law, until the halting judgment in the present case. And now to examine the so-called decision a little further. Sir A. Cockburn says there was no start, and no race. Now, we think it will help us to a right conclusion if we remember