the handsomest horse in the world. In fact, Général is by no means a taking horse, and though Tom Jennings swore by him, there were other good judges who decried him as a "written-up horse," and, spite of the ducal thousand, were content to "slate" him or leave him alone. Digby Grand was "looking every way for Sunday." It will be a happy day for owner, trainer, and jockey, when the black ceases to trouble the starter, and his craven heart is at rest. Morris did not seem proud of his tasting order for Bordeaux, and we fancy even Mr. Gilbey would have made but little out of him. Rose of Athol, like many others of the fair sex, was the last to appear. After the procession had been got through, M'George had his horses well in hand at the first time of asking, and down went the "flag of fate." Five blue jackets flew over the hill together, but the Beckhampton tactics were altered, and Fordham did not attempt, as in the Derby, to come right through with his shifty Saunterer. Albert Victor, too, did not seem to require hurrying, and staying was supposed to be Général's forte. The pace seemed fairish throughout, but not quite first-rate, and at the Red House the tailing had hardly commenced. It was hereabouts Digby Grand for a moment looked formidable as he came round his horses, but the spurt was soon over, and then the cerise and grey died away inch by inch. Next the rails 'Maidment had Hannah well in hand, and just at the right moment set her going, stalling off the resolute challenge of Albert Victor and the last expiring struggles of Ringwood. No victory could have been better received, and no more enthusiastic crowd could have gathered round the Whitewall brougham than that which followed the mare home to scale, and redoubled its applause as Hayhoe handed her over to the Baron to lead in triumph to weigh in. Again and again was the shouting taken up, nor would those of her supporters in the enclosure be satisfied until they had paid the compliment of a round of cheers to the lady of the house whose name the Leger victress bears. So the old adage that "Everything comes round in time to him who can wait," has been triumphantly verified, and in all likelihood the Baron will enjoy for many years to come the enviable distinction of having won the three ribands of the year with animals of his own breeding. Doubtless the triumph would have been more complete could King Tom have claimed the sireship of Favonius, but the real "King of the Vale" has amply redeemed his character from the imputation of begetting non-stayers only, and has only to crown the edifice of his success by begetting a colt worthy of such distinguished relationship. Chopette could hardly be held in the Bradgate Park Stakes, and Gladness was one of those good things in the Rufford Abbey Stakes

which the Bloss division are so prodigal in producing. It was quite a relief to see some excitement imported into a Queen's Plate, though the pursuit of Love is at all times an arduous one.

The Tupgill luck during the week was heartbreaking, though many who saw Fisherman beaten by Barefoot on Thursday had fancied the chestnut might prefer three-quarters to a mile. The Two-year-old Sweepstakes, which generally falls to an outsider, and has on the last three anniversaries seen the blue and silver braid to the fore, included no champion of that stable in its field, and Cremorne showed that whether at five or six furlongs he was master still. In spite of all assertions to the contrary, and Onslow's defeat of him at York, we rather doubt if we have seen anything in the two-year-old line, as yet, within seven pounds of the Rufford horse; and as Parmesan and Maidment seem to be in luck, we hope to congratulate Mr. Savile on his first Derby as well as "his first champagne" before another year is over our heads. St. Vincent's presence spoiled the Portland Plate, and Anton, in the Eglington Stakes, made as short work of Highland Fling as he did last year of her half-sister, Queen of the Gipsies.

Friday saw a Fyfield certainty landed at last, when Jubilee cantered in an easy winner of the Prince of Wales's Plate, a prize instituted in lieu of the deposed Nursery. Mr. Craufurd richly deserves a turn, and we trust something better still is yet in store for him. In the time-honoured Park Hill, Hopbine, fairest of Dundee's daughters, and a light of the Middle Park harem, settled her opponents right easily. Sir Joseph's dark 'un, upon whose Leger chance some had waxed suddenly sweet, found no favour in Judge Clark's eyes. Another glimpse of the magenta and black in the Westmorland Stakes, and time and the hour brought us for decision the Cup, which was to settle once for all the pretensions of the Richmond filly. Some still held the Goodwood running a fluke, of which opinion York could not disabuse them; but, nobly as Barford strove, and wonderfully as he has improved under Tom Jennings's tuition, the mare would not be denied, and pink and black, with seven pounds extra, flashed bravely past the winning chair. John Scott seldom misses a race at Doncaster, and Field Marshal began the autumn manœuvres well by reversing his Goodwood form with Dalnacardoch and distancing Ringwood, temporarily settled by his struggles in the Leger.

The yearling sales were the feature of the week, and the honours may be fairly said to have been divided between Lord Lyon, The Duke, and Lambton. Messrs. Graham sold a fine, well-grown lot from

their repertorium of Birdcatcher blood at Yardley, where The Duke has made his mark most unmistakably. His yearlings from Cherwell and Hippodamia established at once a reputation which his energetic owners will see amply carried out. The Oxfords were racing-like as usual, and his list will never want subscribers so long as Sterling and Kennington are held in remembrance. The British Lion went to the nod of Colonel Pearson for his sire's sake, so we shall see the "chevrons" once again. Colonel Astley had a a fair sale with his young Nottinghams and Broomielaws, and the Haricot colt was quite the particular star of the Blankney lot, among which we saw the "last fruit off an old tree" in the shape of old Queen Mary's Rapid Rhone filly. Mr. Long would not be stalled off the Costa-Bonny Blink filly, and we shall be much mistaken if her name does not become one of dread on the Curragh. Colonel Pearson came across from Mr. Pain's ring in time to secure another "Lyon" colt from Sadie, and Mr. Watson, with his crack Adventurer filly and promising young Liddingtons, at once took rank with the crack breeders of the day. Mr. Newton's team was scarcely so grand as usual, though somewhat redeemed by Coeur de Lion and Lady Lyon. Mr. Merry took Woodcote more, we presume, for Moss Rose's sake than any great regard for shape, make, or blood. Lord Scarborough scarcely rings the changes enough among his brood mares, and toujours Rataplan will hardly secure success. However, Strathconan may work a change next year. Yorkshire Rose was a neat Adventurer, and the colt by Lord Lyon out of Phantom Sail went to keep company with Headingley, Yorkshire Relish, and Co. Thursday, however, was the day par excellence, as it usually is at Doncaster when Messrs. Sadler, Cookson, Johnstone, and Sir Tatton Sykes send their young hopefuls into the Corporation Field, and the giants of the Glasgow Stud stride round the limits of the ring. Sir Roger was a long, low, powerful horse, and the great financier bidding in the Hamilton interest secured him, while Mr. Gee, out of respect for the home blood, took Ringdove. Marquis of Ely was a regular flatcatcher, but Allan McDonogh would not be denied, and, we hear, resold him at a considerable advance. All Heart and No Peel will (mutato nomine, we trust) wear the yellow sheets of Russley. Bras-de-Fer went to Tom Dawson's bid, and when Windermere fell to Matt Dawson's nod for a thousand, the heart of Snarry rejoiced, and he departed in peace home to Sledmere. Lord Marmion led the van of the Neasham Hall beauties, and will sport the Houldsworth green and gold; and the Lambton Worm was secured by that early bird Tom Dawson. Beadroll was the premier yearling of the week, and Mr. Craufurd

bid for him like another Lord of the Hills, and may he turn out a more remunerative purchase. Sir David, another Lord Lyon, went to The Druid's schoolmaster; and Prescot, a nice, shapely Knowsley colt, joined Lord Marmion at Napier's. The Durham High Sheriff secured an average of five hundred for ten lots, while Sir Tatton's four represented eight hundred each. After these the Sheffield Laners showed less favourably, though there were plenty of sound, well-shaped youngsters among them, and Spae Wife, Flag of Truce, and Mammon were quite the pick of the basket. Nor did the Glasgow yearlings show the grand size and substance of last year, and Mr. Craufurd got the best of the bunch at exceedingly moderate prices. The fourth day's sale was comparatively uninteresting, though no doubt some bargains were secured; but, taking them altogether, no finer set of yearlings ever gladdened the eyes of lovers of horseflesh than those which paraded before Messrs. Tattersall in this present year of grace. And as a proof of the remunerative prices the stock of an untried stallion may command, we may mention that the average of the thirteen Lord Lyons sold during the meeting was something over 350 guineas.

With many of such we hope to renew the acquaintance another year, when Yorkshire again celebrates her annual festival; in the meantime we leave the "town of butterscotch and mellow pears" to sleep in its dull monotony again, like another Rip van Winkle, till the Leger week sounds the keynote of preparation, and houses are swept and garnished, and prices raised in honour of the coming guest, and "Hannah's year" has become a thing of the past.

ASTEROID.

VOL. VII., N.S. 1871.

RR

LEAVES FROM THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A SMALL TERRIER.

CHAPTER I.

FORTUNE OF BIRTH.

WAS born in the stable of Cosmo Bygrave, Esq., of Bygrave Hall. I believe there were six or eight of us of the same litter at any rate there were more of us than were wanted; so that all but two were immediately put into the stable bucket. What determined that I should be one of the two selected to survive I do not know. I do not think it was any regard to the accident of primogeniture. I am rather inclined to think it was some characteristic in me regarded as a merit in the eyes of the groom who had the disposal of us. Those who may take any pleasure in these personal reminiscences are indebted to his prompt discernment.

It is a very summary process, that of the stable bucket; but it has often occurred to me since that some such arrangement introduced into the families of great people would materially diminish the amount of chagrin, heartburning, and melancholy that is in the human world. For there is no such source of care and anxiety to parents, no such pitiable class to themselves, as the superfluous members of a rich man's family, the younger sons of a gentleman of handsome, but not exorbitant, landed estate. The Bygrave estate was not without its drawbacks of this nature, as may be understood from what fell under my own observation.

Cosmo Bygrave, as the eldest son of his father, was born to face the difficulty of making three thousand a year support him in the condition of a country gentleman. He succeeded to it at the age of twenty-seven. It was by no means clear. His mother had her jointure, and two sisters very moderate annuities, charged upon it. But the ladies still had their home at the Hall. The jointure charge was in reality hardly a charge, for as yet it was freely disbursed in establishment expenses, such as maintenance of the carriage and most of the household servants. Of three younger brothers, the first had been forwarded in the Army by use of a little money and much interest in high quarters; the second had been sent to India, where he was doing well. So that in one form or another the public