performance showed how fast he could go, and the same remark holds good with Harlequin; the latter's previous rate of going is also on record. Occasionally a good trainer gets hold of a speedy horse, and of course he becomes a winning horse; but nine times out of ten it is the contrary. Till that times arrives when winning Arabs will be kept for stallions, men will go on as they hitherto have done; and the result will be, as generally has hitherto proved the case, that the horse best trained will be the most successful at the outset.

If you think the above worth

INTRODUCTORY CANTOS TO A SPORTING

POEM.
I.

I sing of India, and its swarthy faces,

Its d-d white ants, and cloud-deserted skies,
I sing its maidens, and their dusky graces,
Their raven locks, and darkly-beaming eyes,
Thee too I sing, from whom the huntsman traces
The fount of life and health-brown exercise,
That lovest, the dull toil of office o'er,
'Cross the wide plain to urge the bristly boar.

II.

Gravesend thou dear last spot of English land

That my foot linger'd on-how deep the sigh

That my young breast heaved forth, as thy loved strand
Grew dimmer on my fix'd and aching eye.

Upon my heart there was a scar,—a brand

Upon my burning brow, and silently

I turn'd away, to seek for better cheer,

'Mid bales of young Cadets, and Hodgson's beer.

III.

Of the first article the ship held plenty.
They all were sold; (the beer was yet to sell)
And in their room-no disrespect is meant—I
Had liked a few more casks ofbeer as well;
Unwhisker'd heroes from 14 to 20
Sighing for the red honours of a shell.
Out of 13, the number of the pack,

Scotland sent 4, whose names began with Mac.

IV.

McDuff, McCleod, McHatchins, and McGregor,

Fine growing youths, whose coat sleeves shunn'd their wrists, Who, when they quarrelled, scorn'd to pull a trigger,

But sought the safer argument of fists,

Thus, always of two disputants, the bigger

Needed no subtle syllogistic twists,

But when he found his adversary's crown
Dull to all Logic's force-he knocked down.

√.

One too there was a Peri of eighteen,

(Woe for thee, England, 'tis no theme for jesting,)
Sent with the beer and cheeses to be seen,
And, if approved of, purchased-interesting
She was, of course, like beauty's classic Queen ;
At her sea-birth the quiet waters breasting.

The beer was Hodgson's-the maid's name was Priestly,
The one was pretty, but the other beastly.

VI.

Alas for you upon whose cheeks the rose
Is blended with the alabaster's hue!
Who modestly scarce ventures to unclose
Your bud of beauty to the stranger's view-
Alas that such a flower, which sweetly grows
In its own soil, should vegetate anew
In a fair climate, where the rising day
Gleams on thy suicidal isle, Bombay!

VII.

The glossy tendrils of the long dark hair,
Or the black fringes of the blacker eye,

The cheek where red and white combine to share
Their realm of Beauty with alternate die,

And the whole charms of Britain's blooming fair-
The light that round them shines the luxury

Of their fine form-Can Beauties such as these

Be sold for gold or barter'd for Rupees?

VIII.

Forbid it, Heaven !-and so thought brave McDuff,
For with a purse and spirits light as air,

This griffin loved, and loving grew less rough,

And combed the tangles of his ruby hair,

And tuned his voice to sing some doggrel stuff

In her (Miss Priestly's) praise, his chosen fair

And when on high the moon's pure lamp was hung,

Thus in her ear the youthful minstrel sung:

I love the raven locks that flow

All blackly o'er thy neck of snow,
And all the beauties that display

Their charms to steal men's hearts away—

But still, unhappy must I be

Unless those eyes will smile on me,
Unless my wanton fingers stray
Amid those locks in loving play,
Unless my lips in thy warm kiss
May antedate Elysian bliss.

Oh! that those heavenly charms that shine
To make thee what thou art, were mine,

I would not give the least of them

For Persia's richest diadem."

IX.

maiden listen'd,

Thus sung McDuff, and the young
As the pale moonbeams o'er the unruffled Sea
Slept in mild Beauty and her black eyes glisten'd
With the pure tears of love, and tremblingly
Met brave McDuff's-he had already christen'd
The child he saw through dark Futurity,
And call'd him Donald; still he was not quite
Lover enough to lose his appetite.

X.

He drank one evening too much beer and fell
From the ship's deck; he saw but could not save-
She heard him shriek, as the rude ocean's swell
Plunged her young lover in his early grave.
Her eye met his, and still her thoughts will dwell
Upon McDuff, as struggling with the wave

He
gave his long last bubbling shriek for breath
Ere the dark waters did their work of death.

XI.

McHatchins oft had heard that hog were hunted, And thought what kind of beast this hog might be, Whether he had a curly tail and grunted

In the true British manner genuinely.

And as McHatchins' intellects were blunted

By long confinement to the Highlands, he

Swore in pure Scotch, he would not care one fig

For riding after any kind of pig.

XII.

Whether McHatchins changed his mind, and whether

He found hog-hunting no such easy matter

Will be found out hereafter, when together

With his two friends, we shall behold him clatter

O'er Deckan's stony ground with breeks of leather
And hearts of steel, and hopes that vainly flatter.
They went-McCleod, McHatchins, and McGregor
With one large Brandy bottle and a nigger!

XIII.

At last the long-desired Bombay appears,
And 'mid the waters lifts its ugly head!
Soothed by the sight, our maiden dries her tears,
And each young Warrior arms himself in red.
But still Miss Emma could not calm her fears,
Nor view the natives but with maiden dread,
Who came, uncumber'd by shirt, shoe or stocking!
To a young British vestal very shocking.

LETTER TO JOHN DOCKERY.

The following has been sent us under an envelope with a request that we would forward it to Honest John Dockery. We shall certainly do so by the first private opportunity that may occur (wishly to save John unnecessary postage), but in the mean time we will venture to treat our readers to a sight of it, as it contains many very valuable hints for sporting people.

Thorparch, nere Tadcaster,

Yorkshere, Nov. 1828.

DERE COUSEN JOHN,

Them be vine inventshuns that the noing ones calls Steemers, -mi i how they does fly! Unkel and cousen Rooger ave got them letters which you rote from Poonur-what a vunny place it mon be!-Virst and voremost I will tell'ee that your feyther is delited to hear you bares no malice in your art, and hast forgot the kick on your you no where. He's quite harty and sends his benedickshun and is glad to larn you are so pleesed wi Mr. Doolittle, your new maister, who mus have sum old

VOL. I.

Yorkshire blud in his vains, I take it, to be so vond of sporting, more particular, as from your account, he's sich a rum set to hunt wi.—But cousen in these parts we all think you're vunning us about the dogs they hunt wi at Amudnoogur; for I nose that sum very fine dogs of the true sort goes evry yere to a pleace thy calls Calicut, wich being not far from you, being as how I ears it be also in the Eestern Hinges, you ave I dare say seen, in your travels. I ears from that notoryas good rider Sam Thaw, who went out from these here parts as you've done, for a Jockey to a great racing Gemman in Calicut, that them little ones you turned up your nose at, goes well after the dogs-this we guess to be another of your Hingee flams, for how can such a poney like get over the vences? the upshot is I spoze, they've nun to stop 'emI nose also that fine orses ave been sent to Hingee from Old England, and I can't but think it would be more worthier the English caractur, and for the benefit of the poor Hingeans, to do as we've dun in Old Yorkshire: improve

M