Jolly John,

And laugh'd at your Lilliput height;

'Twas sufficient to hubble The Doncaster double, And tip them a Tadcaster bite, Jolly John, Tho' they laughed at your Lilliput height.

Let me follow you now in your feats,

Jolly John, Where you always seem doing your best;

Ever first in the race,
Never worst in the chase,
And as eager in love as the rest,
Jolly John,
Where you always seem doing
your best.

I have just observed L.'s query about the jalap and calomel for the distemper in dogs, and am sorry I can't give your correspondent a verbatim account

out of the Colonel's book. He mentions, however, nothing respecting the future method of treatment after medicine, which I should imagine to be simple. enough. The proportions would,

in all probability, salivate, in which case care must be taken to keep the animal from cold or water. Should he feel at any time inclined to eat, give nothing but warm broth and pot liquor,

SIR,

and when the calomel appears to have had its full effect, let some mild common dose be given.

May 18th.

In the early part of January, 1828, Mr. betted that he would in one hour gather 100 oranges placed in a line, each three feet apart, and carry them singly to a basket standing three feet from one end of the line, starting from the basket.

The ground chosen was a tolerably level piece of grass on the esplanade; and, although the race was known only to a few friends of the parties, a good deal of blunt was sported on the occasion.

Having divested himself of his stockings, shoes, and other encumbrances, he started at an easy pace, and commenced with about the sixtieth orange, soon afterwards taking a few short runs, and so continued to the end, changing from long to short runs occasionally. When he had gathered about one half, he offered an even bet, that he completed his task in fifty-five

Yours,

F. H.

minutes; no one, however, took it, and he went on a little longer, and came down to fifty-four minutes; seeing no one inclined to take this, he offered two and three to one, both of which were immediately taken. Again, after continuing his race for some time, he offered even on performing it in fifty-three minutes, but he had by this time done so much and had such good time before him, appearing also so fresh, no one seemed to doubt his capability, and he finished his work with the greatest ease considerably within fifty-four minutes. The distance in this race is, I believe, five miles and a half and 320 yards, but the constant turning and stooping render it, I am inclined to think, no very easy task. Mr. is upwards of six feet high (no great advantage in stooping) and what would be considered rather a well-made F. S.

man.

obligingly favour me with the meaning of the monosyllabic appellations, Snob, Spoon, and many of similar kind.

Will you also inform me if the controversy between Messrs. Novice and Gambado is likely to produce any important results as to any alteration in feeding and training, and whether the latter correspondent will have any objection to make his name

public, that those who are anxious to benefit by his experience may do so by a viva voce conversation with him.

Can you kindly tell me why there has been no prospectus of the Bombay Races published as yet, and who are the Stewards who have so long a time allowed the bill of fare to slumber in oblivion? Allow me, while I am giving you all this trouble, to add my mite of applause and congratulation on the extraordinary success of your Sporting Magazine; the support it has met with from many sporting characters on the other side of India (I see a friend of yours calls our side a corner, which was very clever indeed) evinces the true sporting spirit with which they are actuated, and speaks speaks volumes in favour of their disinterestedness and good-will to merit wherever it may appear.

I am not much of a prude, neither am I a philosopher or a blue light; but I really think the third Tale of the Tinkers bore strong marks of impropriety in the minutiae of its details, and also that John Dockery's letters want pruning. These sort of people have, not that innate sense of delicacy which ought to characterize a British sportsman, and I think you ought to publish no more of his correspondence. It is very true I hear it laughed at everywhere, but the ladies don't enjoy it at all, and where we can't see them smile, the pleasure is not worth having.

"Immodest words admit of no offence, And want of decency is want of sense."

I am almost sure I know the author, and I am therefore surprised he should indulge in so low a way. I have been led on thus far by my feelings, and while I am in the criticising humour I

trust you will permit me to continue, because every public work is subject to stricture, and therefore every author ought to be prepared for the worst. Your correspondents no doubt will eagerly rush forward to engage in a contest with one so unknown as I am, but I can tell them that though "the bee proffers honey he bears a sting;" and that I can sting as well as buzz about is well known to many who have thought me as harmless as I am unpretending.

Nimrod in the East is in general very good and very classical, though in point of low sayings I think he is faulty, such as "hot as hell," "cram at him," and such like vulgarisms; besides, and moreover, notwithstanding he is very sensible, he is too tedious and too communicative, he tells every little thing as though it was in conversation, and fills up a great many pages which might be more valuably filled. If he would have the goodness to confine himself to all he has seen, and not give us all he has heard, it would, I think, be an improvement: not but what I mean to say he is a very valuable correspondent, and deserves encouragement, and as far as my meed of applause will go he is very welcome to it, and to my good wishes too, for I never wish to browbeat a man, particularly where his name is not known, and of course he can't well defend himself. I will now say a few words, if you will allow me, on the subject of your second best correspondent, for so I suppose you think him, as I hear you call him and Nimrod the great guns of your Magazine. This was a capital pun of yours, as you evidently thought that your friends and contributors were from the Artillery, and your allusion was therefore both clever and classical.

I am very quick at seeing these things, and give you due credit accordingly. The first Tale of the Tinkers was too close an imitation of the Loves of the Angels, and as any one can make a parody, I don't see much merit in that; besides, look at some of his rhymes,

66

79 carcase and "mark us,' and foot and mute, sooner and Poonah, rolling eye and gravity; then in his second Tale, which he turns off with a song, that song is borrowed! I heard a first-rate, prime sporting character, one who is always first in all sports, whether with his gun, his spear, his horse, or his greyhound. I heard him sing it as his own, and I am sure it was his own too, though perhaps he may have lent it for the occasion; and if you, Sir, Mr. Editor, could get him to send you some of his good things for your Magazine, it would be well worth your while; he is now in Bombay, and I hope he will excuse this hint. The third Tinker's Tale is a sad falling off; quite a melange of doggerel rhyme and low wit; many people think it better than the first, but every lady condemns it, and that's sufficient; it wants delicacy and less low humour; it requires less of Fielding and more of Johnson, so I should say.

I now come to the less marked people, the mob of your contributors, and shall just make a few cursory remarks en passant upon their productions. I do not in all this rely solely on my own individual judgment, but I have spoken with one or two friends, and they have fully agreed with me in the sentiments I am going to make you acquainted with.

What you call a parody on Lord Byron's Tambourgi, Tambourgi is no more a parody than if I were to say, "Bundoola will move to Poonah to-morrow," and

call it a parody on a general order. Jasper Gambado is sensible, shrewd, and clever; he will be an invaluable correspondent, and he shows off your friend Novice in good style. Junglicus talks of the " tardy sunbeam." God knows his beams come quick enough; this word tardy is very stupid indeed; and who does he mean by the monarch of the buffalo tribe? and how can horses "emulate the wind" and pressing on, "all striving for the lead "that is to lead the wind; upon my word this is mighty silly.

"We'll tell the tale of each wide wound, And kill them o'er again!"

I

What! kill a wound over again? never heard such nonsense. Percussion and Detonator are both sensible, gentleman like men. They argue their point quietly and skilfully, and though I don't know much about shooting, I like their mode of reasoning, and think your Magazine must derive some benefit from that sort of contributors.

You must now permit me to say a few words on the subject of the letters from John Dockery; I have already alluded to them, and I must again express my sorrow and surprise that a person of your generally appropriate sense of right and wrong should have admitted such things in your publication. I will allow that they possess humour, but it is low, very low, and some wit which is equally below par; in descriptions, it is grossly erroneous, and I should imagine equally faulty as to the accounts of the sport witnessed by the writer in the field and on the course. What, then, could push it through the ordeal of common criticism I confess I cannot tell, and I think the whole correspondence richly deserving of the most severe castigation