The Express.
London, England, 1865-09-14 00:00:00

4

THE ST. LEGER,

The Deily New publishes a description of yes-
terday's an by a special oorrespondeat. Is the
ammo of this communication we read :
The first steed out of the paddock was Regalia,
ad a hum of admiration, which soon became a
shoat, went through the surging, shouting mob, as
Osborne mounted her, and she graosfully plunged
and oarcolled before the ladies stand. The ex-
quisite perfection of her training, her complete
Steels for the struggle in store for her, she sym-
metry of her proportions, the adrairshle adaptation
of her several points—all won outspoken moo-
Ink= from men who as a clam are retinal of
praise. Breadalbane came next, and had his
quota of admirers, though he never appro•ohed
the popularity of the mare ; then Zambesi, a
handsome black horse, and so on until all were
visible but the favourite. It was carious to note
the rapidity with which the inferior bookmakers or
their touters—foe many of these men bustle about
and yell, with a secretary at their elbow to book
lion bets, and aid them in shouting—seized upon
a miming note of admiration, and attempted to
discount it for their personal benefit. The
elliginest word in favour of the horse cantering
Were the speaker, and his alleged price in the
market, was bawled into the ear, and foul-tongeed
men, with "foreheads villainous low," and whose
other externals were by no means a guarantee of
solvency, offered to lay something in " ponies" or
"hundreds," and to book the bet.
Still "No Frenchman !" All eyes are turned to
the gate through which his arrival is expected, and
some count the horses already in the field, as if to
make sure the famous Gladiatear has been over-
looked. Some of these are playfully restless, and
oae—Mr. Haig's Dux—lashes out with such a
vigour and oelerity as to seriously jeopardise the
jockey seated on the horse near him. At length,
after a delay—really of a few short
manatee, but to the excited and impatient
crowd waiting of apparently interminable length—
s powerful-looking, sleek-skinned beauty is led
eat. Even now there is an instant's doubt, and
it is not until one of the group walking at his aide
throws off his long overcoat, and reveals the face
and figure of Grimshaw in the well-known blue
jacket and red sleeves, that hesitation is at an end,
and " That's him," " Gledisteur ; fit as a fiddler,
the beauty !" and other interjectional phrases
expressive of admiration, burst from a hundred
lipa. The horses now pace round in single file
opposite the stand, and while the appearance of
Regalia elicits many a delighted comment. This is
invariably accompanied by a half sighing, half
rejoicing tribute to the marvellous combination of
Mae, strength, training, and beauty presented by
the French horse.
The Frenchmen on and about the stand,
wonderfully arrayed after the fashion rigorously
prescribed by Le Sport—knickerbockers and long
gaiters of shall patent leather, white ankle
gaiters, and thin dress shoes, white cords,
velvet dressing jackets, and similar appro-
priate garments become terribly excited at
this juncture. They aver to Jules or Antoine, their
neighbours, or failing their attention, to any Eng-
lishman who will listen, that M. le Comte
bas set his heart upon winning—that G=
did not appear on the course before for very good
and sufficient reasons, and that the Leger is all but
won already. They were right. The same senti-
ment, but expressed with less exaggera-
tion, might be heard on all sides, and the
verdict of a gentleman who had seen forty
Leger. run for, " Gladiateur tint, the rest
nowhere !" accurately e: reused the feeling of all
those who were by. Every movement of this
beautiful creature strengthened the impression, and
from the time of the start, through the race, the
details of which are given below, up to his appearance
—graceful, easy, cool, and anything but hurried—
at the winning post, the wish to acknowledge
inevitable defeat promptly, and to accept it grace-
fully, wan manifested far and near.
It is true, some fashionably-dressed gentlemen I
and a cluster of the biggest and strongest
police-
men in the county accompanied home and rider
to the weighing room, and that the fashionables
speedily developed into professors of the art of
self-defence. The new sea-side suit of buff
tweed enfolded but did not hide the manly form of
Xr. James Mace, while the white waistcoat, black
shooting jacket, dark "mutton chop" whiskers,
and open ruddy Russian face belonged to the " un-
bought and undefeated" Mr. Jerry Noon. The
apparently feeble invalid in the rear, whose stoop
might be supposed to denote defective physical
power, is Mr. Nathaniel Langham, another ex-
pert student of Bell OA the Hand. Other gen-
tlemen of similar tastes, pursuits, and power, make
up the convoy, who keep the crowd off without
difficulty until the riug is reached. This crowd
throws up its collective hat, shouts with its col-
lective lungs, and generally comports itself like
the good-tempered genial monster, it is. But to
avoid accidents, and to prevent unworthy hostility
acting under the plea of friendship, Messrs. Noon
and Mace walked at each side of the winner's head,
cue hand holding his bridle, and the other
dealing out lusty thrusts and shoves to
such of the pushing mob as break through
the phalanx, and succeed in coming up to the
bone. So, with the crowd thickening at every step
and the excitement intensifying every morneut, the
ring is gained. Here even this strong party of pilots
at work are perforce brought to a standstill. Their
strength and skill is comparatively useless against
the compact mass of betting men and swells,
and though the demonstration was enthusiastically
joyous, it was evidently felt that—again to avoid
accidents—the weighing-room mast be reached with
the least convenient delay. Redoubled but fruit-
less efforts were then made by the faithful pugilists
—the two leaders named looked likes genteelyachts-
man and a prosperous yeoman respectively, so fault-
less was their attire—and at length the big
policeman could tolerate the delay no longer,
and seizing Grimshaw in his arms as if be were
a baby, thus carried him to the scales.
The impulsive temperament of Mr. Mace led him,
in his exertions, to throat his fist inconti-
nently through the glass door leading to
the weighing room, and the blood of that,
hero bespattered its postern.
This was the only catastrophe attending
" the Frenchman's" victory ; it arose indirectly
from the too hearty congratulations of the robust
and hearty northern race who welcomed the
stranger's victory as if it were their own, and
whose conduct yesterday certainly betrayed no
leaning to foul play; whatever may have been
emanated because frustrated by the precautions
taken and the prudence shown.