THE RACING IN APRIL, AT NEWMARKET, AND

ELSEWHERE.

BY CRAVEN.

No racing anniversary since the days of Elis, the city, and Alexander the Great, the first gentleman jock on record, ever set in with such gallant promise as that of 1846. The calendar came out as round and rich as an alderman, and the journals teemed with announcements of new stakes and handicaps, endowed'even to prodigality. One of the most influential bodies in the metropolis, the Licensed Victuallers, presented £300, to be run for at the Epsom Spring Meeting, now first to be made worthy its classic site: and, what with royal gifts and noble accessions, the turf seemed in its millennium. Then there has been a winter such as racing stables have never known-unless they used to train in Tempé; and horses were as fit, according to general understanding, at Christmas, as they used to be at Easter. All this heralded coming events with a flourish such as one only hears at Jullien's Concerts, when Herr Koenig leads the "Post-horn-gallope," on a seven feet tin trumpet. What came of it, whether it kept the word of promise to the ear, or to the hope, the reader will decide for himself, from the following summary.

It is customary to regard the racing season as commencing with the Coventry Meeting, and I see no reason for departing from that practice. At the good city of Godiva the début was well got up. As all the horses in England were ready to run, of course a fair allowance of them showed; and the sport was tolerable, and so was the interest arising out of it. Warwick Spring races followed, and were good. They gave token of the form of certain stables-or were supposed to do so, which answered quite as well. On the strength of Burlesque's running, up went Sweetmeat for the Chester Cup; and so they worked the oracle, always to the profit of the profession, which, of course, fattens on all the fish that comes to its net. But the first feast for the ring was spread at Northampton, in the shape of its handicap. The annals of the turf at that place furnish no parallel to its meeting this season all the details were admirable. There was a fine race for the great event, for which Discord, the favourite, was beaten-that it might be known that horses cannot.go on throwing in like some caster that Fortune has marked for her own,

We now come to the proper matter of our chapter-the April racing, which began with the Epsom Spring meeting, already alluded to as being under such obligations to the Licensed Victuallers of London.

Here, for the first time, were manifest the efforts the new lessee had made, and was making, for the good and glory of the great metropolitan course. The Grand Stand was in process of renovation and general adaptation to its purposes, while a new Derby course, such as should enable the spectators to see every mile of that breath-suspending contest, was presented to the public admiration and gratitude. The site for the ring, on the lawn in front of the stand, gave universal satisfaction, as well as the removal of the judge's chair to the right hand of the running ground. In short, the system of centralisation has been most cleverly carried out, and a more improved place it is hard to imagine. The downs, under the liberality of Sir Gilbert Heathcote, are beginning to look like themselves again, instead as if suffering from the small-pox, as they did when all the paupers in the parish were let loose upon them to "grub" for flints; and the removal of the tents to the same side with the stand, leaves a clear stage on the hill for the horsemen, and divests it of that Bartholomew-fair appearance it derived from clothing its sides and summit with canvas. The meeting consisted but of one day; the sport, however, being very superior. Its chief feature was the Great Metropolitan Stakes, with their sporting bonus, after the deductions, worth £825. The winner was Chamois, a three-year-old, carrying 5st. 7lbs., or three stone less than those of the like age carry for the Derby, thus holding out hope to horses of even the meanest capacity. The field was a good-that is to say, a great one, consisting of nine-and-twenty. Nothing could be more artistical than the manner in which Mr. Hibburd managed the start; and, of course, Mr. Clark placed them to a hair's breadth. There was no other item of the racing that calls for its details being given. This, however, must be said by way of moral-that the present state of the management at Epsom gives assurance at length that it will be put on a footing with the other great English courses, a consummation long devoutly wished for. Of Hampton Spring Races I cannot speak favourably. Moulsey Hurst is the most picturesque spot around picturesque London, and will, therefore, always command company on occasions of any festivity occurring there. But the proper spirit is sadly wanting. Things are conducted with a bitter vulgarity, as regards its racing, too intrusive to be laughed at; and then the "nailing" system prevails beyond all precedent among Christian people. At Epsom on the preceding Friday we found the noble Grand Stand thrown open gratis to the public at Hampton they charged half-a-crown for the privilege of sitting upon the ground, in your own horse and chaise, as Paddy might say.

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We will now proceed to the Craven Meeting at Newmarket, a journey, sois dit, which some of its high company accomplished more by good luck than good guidance. The special train, despatched for their special behoof on Sunday (was it a judgment ?), capsized, and killed some horses, and disabled a guard, and only did'nt kill a handsome moiety of the passengers, probably because it was aware of the quality of the travellers. The meeting began with fine weather, and, on the whole, was a fair sample of an English Spring. It was not remarkable for any very stirring events, but was not either devoid of a row or so, just to stir the bile, and give the people a fillip. For instance, the Jockey Club was called upon to arbitrate in a case of alleged fraud, perpetrated in

October last. On the Thursday in the Houghton week there was a match, A. F., for £200 aside, between old Oakley, carrying 9 st. 7lbs., and Wolf Dog, 7 st. 7lbs. ; for which the old horse was backed at 9 to 4. The young one, however, won; whereupon Burke, the man who does so much in the trotting line, applied to Jaques, the trainer of WolfDog, for certain money, which he, Burke, asserts he laid against the Dog, for him, Jaques, on the understanding that he could not win, being "stumped" from some cause or other. In reply to this, Jaques causes his master, Mr. Moore, the owner of the Dog, to bring a charge against Burke, for offering him, Jaques, £200 to make the horse safe. Of course each denies the matter urged against him, and there, for a time, the affair rests. Thus much, however, is beyond dispute, that one of the parties, at least, is a rascal. The sport on Monday was tolerable, and that was all. The race for the 50 sovs. sweepstakes, in which Free Lance beat Joy, had only the effect of damaging the popularity of Sting a little a very far, fine-drawn conclusion. Tuesday, with its sunshine and sporting handicap, to say nothing of its Riddlesworth, was the day of the meeting. The former brought out a field of five-and-twenty, and ended, as most of the races of the sort have done, to the utter discomfiture of all calculations of their results. It was won by Kisheng-an animal never even named in the betting-very gamely by a short length; Queen of Tyne second, showing a good form, which will be served sooner or later: let the owners of race horses never forget that turf truism. Lord Exeter's Galata colt won the Riddlesworth: the spirited Marquis has had a shocking bad list of late years; yet his losses, by his stud, have been by no means heavy. The next best thing to a good stable full of horses is to have your nominations in for good stakes-something always comes of it; and one decent stake goes a long way in paying forfeits. The history of many a Derby nag was already told; and hélas for the throng of three-year-olds. Iago was the chief feature of Wednesday's running. He won a 200 sovs. sweepstakes, R. M., beating the winner of the Riddlesworth; and the Column, beating Crown Prince, and five others; but the achievement was far from dazzling. Idas won a fifty-pound plate, T.Y.C., beating Garry Owen, which showed his speed had not left him. It was a poor day for Newmarket. Thursday was, however, a great improvement upon its predecessor. The sport for the million was capital, and for the Tom Tullock party-what shall I call it ?-glorious were a tame word. When a horse jumps from any odds you please to some five or six to one for the Derby, is it not a temptation to induce Zeno (suppose him in the flesh) to stand upon his head after his tenth bottle of port, as a philosopher of modern Athens did not long since? The best of the three-year-olds that showed was Binnacle, one of Lord George Bentinck's Derby lot; but bad is, or was, the best. Alarm won the Claret, beating Pickpocket, now hight Ould Ireland. If it was run 66 true, it did not make the winner so good as public opinion does. Friday, the wind-up of the week, was another sporting day. There was a slashing race for the Port, won by Jericho, beating Old England, Miss Elis, and Idas-the distance, the T.M.M., a good deal too far for the last-named. Such is a mere epitome of a week, pleasant enough for those who were there to see, but too mediocre to call for a notice more than subsidiary to the return given

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in the Turf Register. The attendance was very good the list of the company, as it appeared in the newspapers, commencing with Prince George of Cambridge and terminating with Mr. Gully, so that it took a wide range. * * * At Catterick Bridge there were races contemporary with those at Newmarket, but by no means of a like rank. They afforded sport, but of quite temporary interest. The two-year-old running, indeed, may be excepted, in which a colt in next year's Derby, named by Mr. H. Stebbings, ran well: Bendigo he is called, and now the property of Mr. E. R. Clark. Then he will have the advantage of being taught his profession by the Baron, a circumstance that, no doubt, the public will properly appreciate. Several Derby nags showed at Catterick, but hardly with sufficient eclât to send them favourably to the south. Without touching the small deer at Durham, Burton Constable, and a few more places of similar account, I shall close my monthly racing calendar raisonné with a word about Bath races. These sports have, of late years, been rapidly-rising, I was going to say, but that would be impossible, unless the site of them were transferred to the summit of Mont Blanc. Well, then, they are becoming more popular; and, seeing that they really are put advantageously on the scene, one is glad of it-the tip-top of Lansdowne Hill to the contrary, notwithstanding. Burlesque won the Trial Stakes, beating Crown Prince, Pantasa, Refraction, and Buttress, just as she pleased-a crack trial with a witness. What a man Mr. Hill is, to have the best three-year-olds out, with no engagements; for, of course, Burlesque is in neither Derby, Oaks, nor Leger. There was a dead heat for the Somersetshire Handicap, the conqueror being won by Queen of Tyne; Lord Saltown second. There was, besides, plenty of racing, but the state of the ground was awful, and consequently the running would be false as regards turf abductions generally. The Crown Prince, for instance, won the City Cup up to his middle in mud, and so forth. At this meeting, it would seem, experiment was made at following the Armenian practice of "timing" horses. The result, according to the attempt to ascertain the time made by a correspondent in Bell's Life, was as follows:

Which is as tidy a sample of the disagreement of chronometers as could be expected on any side of the Atlantic.

The Newmarket First Spring Meeting was still in progress when the May number of this periodical was published; its chief feature, however, was disposed of in time for me to say a few words about its details and probable consequences, and the opportunity was too valuable to be permitted to pass unappropriated. The First Spring week, as the natives call it, commenced on Monday, the 27th ult., with a vast amount of racing; no less than nine events being in the list, though they were all of minor account. In no case did they go to show that the three-year-old stock of 1846 was good-not to say excellent; and as to betting, it was slack to annihilation. Persons of fortune and condition

are beginning to find out-better late than never-that it is enough to keep horses for the profit of the ring, without presenting it with their ready money also. The chief issue in the market on this occasion was, of course, the Two Thousand Guineas Stakes. For this they backed one animal, previous to the race, at 7 to 4 on him-that is to say the gentlemen did, growling all the while that the stable secret of his qualities had oozed out before they were enabled to get on half enough. In this condition matters were when a lovely morning ushered in the auspicious Tuesday. Vast numbers of people, by noon, had flocked to the scene of action, and certainly Newmarket Heath was more populous than I have ever before known it. The racing was according to the customary programme of the day. There was a small sweepstakes to begin with; then the Queen's Plate for mares, over the Round Course, which Squire Osbaldeston lost on Sorella; and then the Two Thousand. For this Tom Tulloch was backed at 7 to 4, as I have said; his party hoarse with shouting their challenges at that price. Of the thirty named, half a dozen came to the post, whereof one, King Charles, was ridden by his owner, Mr. Osbaldeston. Another, Tibthorpe, was also ridden by his owner, William Scott; but by no means in like manner. That first-rate jockey showed certainly not in as promising a light as might be wished, but his riding was beyond all jockeyship-perfect. The race was a bad race as regards the speed, which was not in the animals engaged in it; but, after a noble display of science, it ended in Scott, on Tibthorpe, prostrating the hopes of the Tom Tulloch folks, and snatching the Two Thousand out of the fingers that in anticipation had already grasped it. After its decision, at the instance of Lord Maidstone, an examination of Tibthorpe's mouth was ordered by the stewards; the result of which I shall not be able to give in this notice. Scott is said to have refused £3,000 for his horse after the race; a large price considering the performance. Squire Osbaldeston is also reported to have declared his intention of riding no more in the company of professional jockeys: a wise and fitting resolution. The impression made by this day's racing was that inculcated by all the public trials I have seen of the three-year stock, namely, that the Derby of this year is as open as I ever knew that event at a similar period of the season, notwithstanding the position Sting still holds in the market and in popu lar estimation.