The Sun.
London, England, 1862-06-04 00:00:00

EPSOM RACES....THIS DAY.

(FROM OUR OWN CORRESPONDENT.)
This being Derby-day, the streets of the metro-
polis, at an early hour, began to assume the usual
bustle and activity attendant on this great event.
The House of Commons, even in the midst of a
Ministerial crisis, adjourned in order to allow the
" collective wisdom" of the United Kingdom to
tike part in the metropolitan holiday ; and the
great International Exhibition, the Crystal Palace,
and in fact all the attractions of London were, com-
paratively speaking, deserted for a trip to the ver-
dant downs of Surrey. Anticipating the real or
imaginary wants of the thousands who betake
themselves to Epsom, the shopkeepers of London
have been unceasing in their exertions to meet the
demand thus created. Not a shop window, for the
last week or two, could be passed without seeing
something very conspicuously labelled " For the
Derby," or "For the Races." Four-horse drags,
open barouches, and covered vans, were advertised
in all directions, and from the number seen on the
road the demand must have been quite equal to the
supply. The great movement of the Epsom pil-
grims commenced at about four o'clock this
morning, at which early hour all the pathways
leading out of town were marked with dark mov-
ing lines of pedestrians, laden with the most extra-
ordinary variety of burthens, and the roadways
were equally thronged with patient donkeys,
who only required time to get over as much
ground as the most agile of Derby racers. Poor
Neddy was laden with all manner of movables,
such as only could belong to the costermonger
population, who seemed bent on securing those
admirable places for viewing the great event, near
the ropes, which, as the time for starting arrives,
are eyed with envy by those who have paid their
guinea for admittance to the Grand Stand.
Never, since the now almost forgotten days of
coaching, has that well-known and far-famed house,
the Spread Eagle, Gracechurch-street, been so com-
pletely inundated with persons anxious for con-
veyance to the races. The street was for some time
positively impassable from the number of vehicles,
of all descriptions, congregated there for that
purpose.
The facilities offered by the railway companies
afforded us an opportunity, previous to leaving town,
to take a peep at the great southern centre of bustle
and confusion—the Elephant and Castle. Every-
thing seemed to muster there. Post-chaisee, that
had done duty any time these months past as pigeon
roosts in the worst inn's worst yard, came clatter-
ing along, the horses, warranted three parts blood
and the other part corn, indulging in the imperfect
recollection of a canter, a feeble reminiscence that
the postillion fostered to the utmost by rising in
his saddle now and then, as if the animal really
galloped. Next arrived some swell drags, crowded
outside with fast young men, and inside with all
kinds of missiles, with which to pelt the lieges
coming back; there, too, aspiring clerks assembled
and donned blue veils, preparatory to going quietly
down by rail ; and there were also some young
fellows who bad so anticipated matters as even thus
early in the morning to require a helping hand to
steady them in their passage to the knife-board on
the roofs of the omnibuses.
At this point also was held the annual meeting
of superannuated mail coaches, and this year the
attendance was more numerous than usual. The
appeals on their behalf by the individuals who had
had the moral courage to again produce the relics of
a bygone but very pleasant age, were eloquent in
the extreme; but the most tempting offers of front
seats, or the most liberal suggestions by way of
pecuniary arrangements, offered no inducement to
counterbalance the comfort, speed, and certainty of
the rail. People still remember the first break at
at Kennington Turnpike, the giving way of the
traces at the Swan, the constantly recurring thirst
of the coachman at every roadside public- house, the
imminent risk of upset in the narrow road leading
to the Downs, and the not at all unc lmmon contin-
gency of arriving on the course just as the crowd
were most triumphantly cheering the winner of the
blue riband of the turf, whilst the police are most
unceremoniously dragging off to the lock-up those
industrial and active young gentlemen who have
peculiar notions about right and wrong, and who
imagine they have just as much as right to your
watch, purse, or pocket handkerchief, as you have
yourself.
Thanks, however, to Mr. Slight, of the Brighton,
and Mr. Clarke, of the South-Western, for by their
arrangements the " rail" has been brought to suit
" the book" of everybody. The fares charged,
though far from high, ensures respectability, and
the most timid of people may safely venture to the
Derby by the rail, certain to meet nothing worse
than members of Parliament, select members of the
prize ring, intelligent foreigners studying the man-
ners of the English, and those well-trussed, well-
braced, well-dressed unmistakeable personages who
go to the Derby as a matter of business, and who
under a smiling exterior perhaps conceal consider-
able doubts as to whether the evening will see
them millionaires or paupers.
The confusion, crowding, and inconvenience that
existed in former times at the London Bride, Vic-
toria, and Waterloo stations, on the present occa-
sion totally disappeared, and in its place you had
order and regularity of the best description. Of
course you enter the station in a state not quite as
cool as a cucumber, as on the road you have been
calculating the difficulties through which you will
have to pass ; but your fears prove altogether
groundless, for the orderly official stationed at the
platform directs you civilly to the carriages ; but
every now and then, when the attendance is rather
too numerous, he calls out, "Forward, gentlemen,
for Epsom—plenty of room lower down," and
accordingly the crowd hurry on in the best pos-
sible good humour, which is not disturbed by
your having to put up with a seat in a third,
although you have taken your ticket for the first-
class carriage, and having for your companions a
number of unmistakeable "betting men," some
gentlemen pugilists, ana three or four novices in
the same eminent profession. However, on the
Derby-day you have made up your mind not to
stick at trifles, so you make the best of the situa-
tion, and while away the comparative tedium of the
journey by meditation on the changes the events of
the day will occasion, your reflections only being
interrupted by the loud snorting of the iron horse
that is conveying you to the scene of action.
As you near Epsom the fact is vividly brought
to your mind by the preparations that require to
be made for quitting the carriage. One gentleman
coolly pulls out a rather fast-looking neck-tie,
which he arranges on his person with the greatest
precision and nicety; whilst another takes from a
very neat little paper parcel a shirt-collar of fault-
less whiteness, with which he performs a similar
operation. At this moment the train begins to
slacken its pace, and in a few minutes after the
rush from the carriages is something tremendous.
You enter the town of Epsom, and to
your great astonishment you find the inhabi-
tants all pursuing their worldly calling with
the greatest possible coolness, as certainly fr.?
ne
111
their demeanour you would never imagi
that the greatest horse-race in the world was about
to take place but a mile or so from the town, but
this is no doubt to be attributed to the fact that the
thousands of pedestrians who pass through the
place take all their capital with them to the race-
course. Before you can well say you have cleared
the town, your difficulty, slight of course at first,
commences, and as far as real work is concerned
you seem considerably further off the Downs than
when you left Victoria Station. You follow a
streaming procession of pedestrians down a
long and very dusty lane, but the perfume
from the hedges, the singing of
the birds, the
bright green fields and the gambols of the urchins
by the wayside, make up a scene that is perfectly
delightful. With what zest your thorough Lon-
doner takes the first few stiles, and how manfully
he " pulls" up the hills ; but presently the rising
ground begins to tell its tale, and the pace which
was brisk and elastic at first begins to slacken.
The little hills all become large ones, and the Grand
Stand, which you fondly imagined was within a
very short distance from you, seems as if it receded
by magic as you advanced. Having applied your hand

kerchief to your streaming forehead as you go, and the
hilarity of the journey kept up by the fun created by
some of the travellers attempting to take a short cut
through the whe t fields, from which all are prevented
by a stout, determined looking fellow, who shouts
out that all trespassers will be prosecuted with the
utmost rigour of the law. The threat is effectual,

and the person who was venturous enough to at-

tempt to reach the goal by any but the long dusty
never-ending lane, returns to the beaten tract amidst

he laughter of the crowd. Thus it is no use for a

companion to point out to you the delicious fields

of young wheat which bounds the stony path, and
you quietly leave the ground to patient toil-endur-
ing donkey, who has taken advantage of the day

when nobody has time to interfere with his inclina-
tions, and has munched up the tender cereal until
his sides are blown out like a balloon. Hot,

parched, covered with dust of a delicate
brawn colour, you toil on, and the conclusion you
arrive at is that the distance from Epsom to the
Downs is considerably longer than the distance

from Pimlico to Epsom.
A sudden joy, however, is experienced when you
discover you have surmounted the last hill. How
you take off your bat for relief, having again ap-
plied your handkerchief to your forehead, contem-
plate for a moment what you have accomplished,
and loudly demonstrate your gratification that
another such two miles have not to be done for

some time at least.
If you have any doubts as to what the Isthmian
games really are you have them soon cleared up at
once, and find them to be played principally with
three sticks, which mystic number is politely offered
to you the moment you arrive on the magic ground.
The proffered sport you politely decline, your pil-
grimage is to the race.course ; and thus you dive
into the narrow passage at the side of the Grand
Stand, through which the whole of the hundreds
of thousands of people must pass if they wish to
see the long-looked for locality, and it is in this
narrow thoroughfare that everyone first feels the
influence of the place. No matter what you may
have been before the moment you plunge in here
and receive your first breath, you become a
sporting man at once. You are asked what odds
you will give against Buckstone, the Marquis,
Zetland, &c. There your opinion of the respec-
tive merits of the beautiful smooth and shining
quadrupeds that are to act so conspicuous a part in
the day's performance is asked, but before you have
time to answer either of the questions, another
eager gentleman asks the latest news about the
betting, all of which queries are put to you on the
understanding that you are well-versed in the art
of bet-making; and who on the Derby day has the
courage to decline being thought one of the "know-
ing ones ?"
What a delightful sensation occurs to you, hav-
ing, of course, luckily foiled the last pickpocket;
when you plant yourself on the smooth grass in
front of the Grand Stand, and look calmly at Merry
England enjoying itself in its own style. But where
in the name of wonder is the race-course. The

place where it used to be is now one vast black
and surging sea. What a Babel of discordant sounds.
The shrill voices of the female venders of " kre,ellt
card," the crack of the long and erooked Enfields
used by adventurous sportsmen shooting for nuts,
the ringing of bells, for which you can assign no
reason, greet you at every turn. Every one is
pushing, and elbowing his way about in order to
discover some one who has promised to meet him on
the Downs. Then again what a sight meets the eye
as you look across to the world renowned hill.
Everybody in that indescribable assemblage seems
busily engaged in a picnic amongst a bevy of sun
shades of every variety of colour, the pinks, blues,
and whites standing out in bold relief, add to this
the long lines of booths, the rows of vehicles, and
altogether it makes up a scene the equal of which
cannot be seen in eny other nation in the world.
Previous to the commencement of the sports of the
day the indefatigable Mr. Dorling is seen riding
up and down the course, then comes the order to
clear the battle ground, and then it is peculiar
to witness the immense quantity of pushing and
driving about the proud and defiant Englishmen
take with the most perfect good humour.
They are swept up and down most mercilessly by
the " Blue" Brigade, and in a very short space of
time abroad green circle sweeps majestically round
where just before all had been human faces, hats,
bonnets and parasols.
The preliminary canter of the horses previous to
the start for the Derby is a feature for which all
prepare themselves by commencing an intense
study of the " correct card," the said card being
next to an Ojibbaway manuscript, or a page of
Bradshaw's Railway " Guide," probably the most
difficult document in the world to understand.
A rapid tramp of horses is heard, you see
the gay colours of the jockeys, pink, green, orange,
blue, yellow, you endeavour to discover the names
of the respective competitors by a reference to the
said card, but before yon have arrived at a settled
conclusion, hey presto ! both horses and riders
have disappeared, and you crumple up your card
and thrust it with disgust into your pocket.
Your neighbour, perhaps, has been more fortu-
nate, he has discovered the Marquis, and is willing
to lay almost a guinea to a gooseberry that he will
prove the winner ; while another equally confident
exclaims " The world to nothing on Buckatone."

A CLERGYMAN ON BILLIARDS.

"New York, April 26th, 1862,
" My dear Mr. Bonner,—l'm in trouble, and as so
many of your readers appeal to you in their tribu-
lation, I can think of nothing better. The facts of
the case are these : I happen to be an Episcopalian
yet an ardent admirer of Henry Ward Beecher,
whose paper I receive every weep, and enjoy a feast
iu his sermons, editorials, &c. Now I am often
called upon in our family circle to defend the say-
ings and doings of this great man, and it is needless
to say, come off victor. But at last lam cornered.
The report that H.W.B. was present at the billiard
tournament has created quite an exitement among
us. I have taken the position that he was not
there, and that it was a mistake or slanderous report
of the Observer and other papers. Of course I have
nothing to offer but my own opinion, expecting a
contradiction in this week's paper to sustai me,
but have looked in vain among the 'Earn and
Eyes,' and all through the independent. And now
I'm in as bad a position as Beauregard, and shall
be obliged to fall back, unless you will reinforce me
with your opinion on the subject. One point which
I have taken is, that if Henry Ward Beecher was at
the billiard tournament, it was for some good pur-
pose, but I can't for the life of me sustain the point,
so do help me, and oblige your constant reader. A
Cutracx WOMAN." As our readers are
we always endeavour to publish the best, answers
aware,
that we can give or procure to the variousiet i t
to Mr.
questions
to which we reply in this department.
o
receiving
the above letter, we immediately n
Beecber himself. He returned
sytheeaf
offollowingcorre-
spondent's brief,
off-hand our
thenotninitended for publi-
cation, but merely for the benefit of " A Church
reply,
note. written
It won s
Woman." Thinking,howeve
r, that it would interest
a large number of our read
sion to publish it :---,. My dear Bonner—Had 1 gone
readers, we obtained permis-
sion
to see Morphy play a game of chess, would people
have raised a hue and
to see the great cry about it P Well, I went
same way. There billiard champions play in just the
• ignorant as a man was a mixed motive. I was as
could be, and supposing the place
that was good enough for respectable ladies and
gentlementO be good enough for me, I went there
as I would
at a
gambling nor at a billiard saloon, but at a
public hall (Irving), used for all respectable
assemblies, and at which the religious anni-
versaries of May are advertised to be held. I
wished also to see what company assembled at such
exhibitions, and what sort of men these great bil-
liard players were. Ido not apologise or excuse—
I do not even defend it. I take my right for
granted. I exercised it openly and above board.
It is for other people to make remarks upon my
Christian liberty as seems best to them. As to bil-
liard saloons, I think them bad for young men, not
on account of billiards, but of liquor, and of men
whose business it is to seduce the young. But the
game of billiards is fine, and not to be condemned.
It is only proper that I should add, that I never saw
a church or public meeting more well-behaved and
entirely gentlemanly than that at Irving-hall.- If
there was any betting there it was secret. There
was.no appearance of it. I was pleased
to with m
it
visit. Nor do I see any reason yet regret
Truly yours, H. W. B."—New York Ledger.
—.......

A VERY EASY ONE TO GI:TESL—Why are the
Germane like quinine and gentian? Bemuse they ars
Two-tonieuo—Punoli.