'We shan't break down from want of condition, Heston?'

'Nor for want of being properly handled either, Doctor,' rejoined the trainer, admiringly. Bar accidents, sir, we shall win.'

'If we don't, we must try and stretch the other one's neck, at all

events.'

I beg your pardon, sir,' said the articled pupil, touching the place where his intellectual faculties were supposed to reside, I suppose it's good enough for my couple?'

My lad, keep your money in your pocket,' replied the Doctor. If you were to invest your couple, as you call it, the Blouzelinda party might suspect something. You stand a tenner with me.'

Thank you, sir,' replied the delighted mannikin, more determined than before to invest his couple.

Messrs. Tagrag and Bobtail, in the shape of a ragged regiment of unsavoury vendors of correct cards, swarmed into Heatherthorp on the following market-day, and an unlovely band of north-country disciples of St. Nicholas followed in their train. These were especially artful in their generation: by coming on the Wednesday, they were enabled, as some of the butterwives found to their cost, to get their hands in,' by way of preparing the way for the more audacious investigations of the morrow. Essom lathered not, neither did he shave on that day; his earlier hours were occupied with visits to the Sursingle and the Stork and Castle to look after the arrivals; then, later on, came solemn interviews with the printer; and, later still, he must take his place in the committee room, and wait for entries for the over-night stakes. There's lots of horses,' with an air of grave satisfaction said one sporting haunter of the Sursingle to another, and that last 'un's a clinker.' Essom was making his way to the committee when this remark was made. He said nothing, but immediately repaired to the Sursingle stables to have a look at the aforesaid clinker. It was Blouzelinda, who had just arrived from Shipley.

Has Mr. Woodridge come by this train?' asked Essom, meaningly, of the groom, who was making the chesnut comfortable for the night.

'No, he hasn't,' replied the man, not very sweetly; but I can 'tell him first thing in the morning that ye were asking for him-I 'should say, I would tell him if I knew your name.'

My name's Essom.'

Come in! Now what do you want here?' ironically inquired the groom of the loungers who crowded the stable-door. "Can't you see the mare's not used to be gaped at? Get out!' He banged the door, and turned the key. If your name's Essom, it makes all the difference in the world. Get over, Blouzy, old girl! Now, ' will she do?'

Blouzelinda was a showy mare. Taking' in colour (a rich golden chesnut), she was particularly attractive from the park-hack point of view, albeit her size-she stood exactly sixteen hands one inch-was rather against her. Her head, neck, and shoulders were

little short of perfection; she was fairly ribbed-up, had a capital barrel, and large, handsomely-turned quarters, set off by a gailyborne flag. Her thighs were light, and hocks small, both these and her knees being a trifle further from the ground than a hypercritic would care to see. Perhaps her weakest point, however, notwithstanding her fine barrel, was want of girth; in fact, she was big behind the saddle, instead of before and beneath it.

'Do! I should think she will!' replied Essom, enthusiastically. Why, if she had not the best of the weights, and '—he added in a lower tone they tell me she has, she is big enough to pull right ' over the Doctor's pony: and almost long enough in the legs to take all the obstacles in her stride!'

The match was set for the opening day, and was the first event on the card; the Doctor had solicited this arrangement as a particular favour. A lovely autumn morning brought a motley crowd of district excursionists to the town-already thronged with visitors from remote neighbourhoods. As the chronicler is not writing this with a view to enlightening the dark minds of a far-off nation-say Japan --he will be forgiven the task of describing a scene that may be witnessed almost anywhere within these dominions, on any day during the colder months of the twelve.

This is a capital place, Kate,' said Sylvia to our darling; it seems to me that we can see everywhere.'

The convertible brougham was open, and the two young ladies, half buried in a cosy mass of bright-coloured rugs and some of the choicest peltry' of the Hudson's Bay Company, might well be congratulated on the position they had selected. By coming early they had, under favour, secured a place nearly opposite the judge's box. Mr. Wilson was absent, enjoying the society of his aristocratic friend the gout.

Yes, I thought of that when I sent to Mr. Essom. There's that ' dreadful bell; now they're going to clear the course. Oh, Syl, if ' he should be beaten! Do you see Arthur anywhere? There he 'is! Don't you see? he lifts his hat. Poor fellow! I think he is ( pale, don't you, Sylvia ?—There, there's Woodridge, turning away from Sir Harry's carriage. Oh! you horrid young man,' she said to herself, fervently, the while acknowledging Woodridge's salute with much outward and visible sweetness; it is very wrong to have ' such wishes, I know, but I should like you to hurt yourself, just a little, so that you get beaten !'

<

Katherine Wilson! why you grow positively diabolical.'

'I don't care. See, see! There's Kelpie, glorious fellow, walking as sedately as though he knew all about it (I half believe he does), and Crisp leading him. And here comes the other. What a peacock !'

Upon my word, Kate, a very beautiful animal: why your Kelpie 'looks quite mean beside it.'

Sylvia, allow ME to know something about a horse, please,' said Kate, severely. Miss Vandervelde shrugged her shoulders in silence.

Now they are putting the numbers up-and there's the starter— and, that noise in the ring is the betting men, Sylvia, you know, and, oh dear, here they come !'

They were both accomplished horsemen, you might learn that at a glance, and there was no fault with the appearance of either; perhaps, however, the toilette of the Doctor was a trifle more workmanlike than that of his adversary.

'How handsome he looks in our colours!' whispered Kate.

'How handsome they both look for that matter,' replied Sylvia. 'Woodridge's colours are remarkably pretty.'

I would not be absurd, if I were you, Syl,' replied Kate. 'White with green braid and orange cap! Why he might be a but'tercup.'

I don't care, Kate the crusty! he looks charming.'

"Oh, those horrid men !' peevishly exclaimed Kate, apostrophising the dulcet-tongued who were offering mellifluously to take four to one. Now they are cantering-how ever you can admire that long-legged creature (I wish its legs were not so long though) -how charmingly Kelpie moves! Sylvia, give me the glass; they ' will be off directly.'

Crisp waited until the pair had finished their canter, and then, mounting the mare, crossed to the far side of the course, where a thick crowd of the many-headed indicated the whereabouts of the water-jump. Crisp was as sober as a conscientious member of the United Kingdom Alliance. His present mission was to ascertain if the take-off of the water-jump was, in accordance with a pledge had and obtained from Essom, cured of its rottenness.

'Just as I thowt,' he said to himself with an oath when he saw the state of affairs. Now if Mr. Arthur taks my advice, and lets the ' other mak running, I can give him the office. There, they're off!' The flag fell, and the two sailed away together for the space of a distance, when the Doctor took a pull at Kelpie, and Blouzelinda went away with a strongish lead. Kate wore her hero's colours in her sweet face now-rose and white, and French grey !—so keen was her excitement. The Ring roared less loudly than heretofore,as yet, the race afforded little encouragement for betting in running.'

'I hope Arthur won't let him get too far away,' said Kate, nervously; and now Crisp rides up to him,-what can it mean?'

After landing over a fence a field removed from the water-jump, the Doctor, still clear of Blouzelinda, in the rear, was joined by Crisp on Widow Malone-as Kate had wonderingly descried.

That's right, Mr. Arthur,' said Crisp, pounding along by his side, but fairly out of the track. 'Let him cut it out. You're safe to do him. Only keep on the whip hand in the take-off: t'other part's as rotten as touchwood.'

Crisp pulled up, and the Doctor continued on his careful career, mindful of Mat's warning. The superior stride and 'bigger' jumping power of Blouzelinda served her in good stead at the water:

she took off from a sound bit of turf and landed safely. Not so Kelpie! Just as the Doctor was following, an over-eager spectator leant too far forward and put his foot in it,' the exploit eliciting a shout of ridicule from his companions. For the first time in his cross-country career Kelpie swerved, and-refused.

"Oh, Sylvia' ejaculated Kate, her face whitening, and the tears starting into her eyes in the extremity of her excitement, Kelpie ' has refused!'

Refused what?"

Kate could not reply. The contretemps was seen from the stand, and the dulcet-voiced broke out in a simultaneous roar.

Ten to one on Blouzelinda!' shouted Mr. Macarthy.

Put it down to me-a hundred to ten,' shouted, in response, Emsden King. They don't win there.'

The bet was booked.

"Oh! Sylvia, that horrid Woodridge is going to win.'

Quicker than it takes to hint it, the Doctor put Kelpie at the water, and in brief space was following, with set teeth and grimmer resolution, in pursuit of his rival. That rival looked round and smiled. He forgot the old proverb.

net.

Woodridge wins-by Jove!' exclaimed the mildly excited baro-
Here's fifty to ten on Blouzelinda !'

Put that down to me, Sir Harry,' cried Heston, who had not taken his eyes off the combatants.

Sir Harry put it down.

There was a bit of plough to cover ere reaching the dip before the turn for home-said turn a quarter of a mile off-and there Kelpie made up some of the difference.

"I think I hope-Arthur-oh, Sylvia, if Kelpie should win after all! Now they're out of sight-now they reappear, and Kelpie is only a length behind. Splendid fellow! how he charges the hill -and he can charge a hill, I know!-he is catching Reginald'now they're together!'

With rare patience, the Doctor-never forgetting for a moment that he was carrying the heavier weight-waited, for he knew the ascent to the distance would tell its tale. It did: Blouzelinda's heart was not big enough to pull her through the struggle, notwithstanding all the advantages of superior stride, lighter impost and the lead,' when that was almost everything. Woodridge felt the least flustered and anxious-the Doctor was catching him up at every stride; while Sutton himself, bravely seconded by Kelpie, who, with his ears pricked, lay down like a lion to his work, rode with unflinching determination. Woodridge did all he knew; he fought the battle inch by inch; but it was of no avail. When the level ground was reached they were girth and girth; two hundred yards from home the mare came again,'-too late!-one dig of the spur, one cut of the whip, one encouraging steadier, and Kelpie won the match-as the local paper afterwards said, 'after a most magnificent 'finish by a neck.'

COMPARATIVE MERITS OF ARABIAN AND
ENGLISH HORSES.

It is very generally believed that the horse of this country called thoroughbred' has attained to such a degree of excellence that he is incapable of any further improvement. This opinion is strong in the mind of most sportsmen, and also that it would be absurd to go back to the Arabian, from whom our horse is, at all events, very largely indebted for his excellence (I may say entirely, as the Barbs and Turks, who were also among his ancestors, were the pure or impure descendants of the Arabian), either for improvement or for the establishing of a new and pure breed. One argument is, that as they consider the thoroughbred to be a superior animal to the Arabian, the former could not now be improved by any return to the original pure blood, and another, that it is hopeless to expect to get size, power, and speed from an animal only about fourteen hands. and a half in height. A contrary opinion is held by a few, and I think is gradually, although perhaps slowly, gaining ground. A plan is also in contemplation for procuring horses and mares of the purest blood from Arabia. It has also been stated in comparing the merits of the racers of the last and present centuries, as a proof of the supericrity of the modern, that the lowness of stature of the older racers must have prevented them from having either the stride or power of the modern, which are certainly a hand to a hand and a half higher, or they would have been out of all proportion.

This, I conclude, is on the supposition that the taller and longer the horse the more power and the greater stride; therefore for every horse under the maximum standard there must necessarily be a graduated scale of diminished speed and power.

Facts, however, give constant proofs to the contrary: even during the last few years smaller horses as to height and apparent length have been the victors over horses of much greater size and more apparent length; when this has been the case, I presume it is but correct to infer that the smaller horses did really possess more power and greater speed than the larger ones. As examples, I would refer to Teddington winning the Derby against much larger horses than himself, and afterwards beating the great Stockwell; Caractacus winning the Derby from horses like The Marquis and Buckstone; and Macaroni winning the Derby from Lord Clifden. Little Lecturer would also be another case in point. No one would believe for an instant that a gigantic cart-horse of seventeen hands or more would have the stride of even a small racer. Nor has he. But why has he not? Because the limbs of progression are not so placed as to be capable of great extension, and the powers of his frame are not so concentrated as to be able to move and extend those limbs with the greatest amount of force and with the least expenditure of power. A man being tall does not insure his being either a fast runner or a quick walker. Many men of less stature will excel