The Sun.
London, England, 1847-04-08 00:00:00

MAGAZINES--(CONTINUED.)

TAIT.
Before Mr. Tait resigned the proprietorship of this
Magazine it arrived with all possible punctuality, and
enabled us to give an early criticism upon its contents
among the leading. monthly periodicals. Since the
retirement of its original publisher Tait has so loitered
Upon the road that we are compelled to afford each
number a less careful perusal and a more hurried con-
sideration. We hint thus much that the transmission
may be speedier henceforth. From his first appear-
ance we have 'welcomed the compositions of Mr. Gil-
fillan we have always read them with a gusto, and
thuaener generally_._ found them on a parity with their
c 8• Besides his volume of " Literary Portraits,"
c has occasionally sketched the ideal likeness of con-
temporaryid;_syn bookmen in the pages of Tait. The
crasies and writings of Sir E. L. B. Lytton,
of Thomas Hood, and of James Montgomery have
been commented upon with much that is subtle and
more that is earnest and passionate in his style of
subject—
Alfred Here he seizes a most fruitful subject—
' 'Tennyson, the master of the young poets—
nosy
confessand we ourselves utterly and un-
utteray
pacitydisappointed. Mr. Gilfillan shows no
,ca-
jisyson whatever fur appreciating the genius of len-
read one We doubt very much whether he have ever
little as that of
what
'Tennyson has written--
. at unfortunately is. That Alfred Tenny-
son is a more remarkable poet than Mr. Gilfillan
tisakes him to be is proved by one significant fact, that
_P°ems have risen in little more that a dozen years
to a distinguished celebrity unaided and unpuffed. A
young man, the son of a Lincolnshire clergyman,
__llScarcely emancipated from the scholastic bonds of
E.mbridge, publishes, in 1831, a little book of poems.
1:11.e book is unparaded; it creeps quietly enough
'vneto existence; but it has the true spirit, the true
.roc—the divine afflatus. It seizes upon the ima-
ginations and hearts of Englishmen ; ita verses have
the golden ring about them ; the numbers are in
every mouth; they become a part of our household
memories. A fe-.v years float over and a second vo-
lume is added to the first : coupled together they are
on bookshelves in odd corners all about England, side
12y with Keats and Coleridge. The name of Alfred
Tennyson becomes as familiar as the most eminent of
modern classics to every lover of real poetry, and
Government ultimately confirms the plaudits of the
people by a pension of two hundred pounds per an-
num. Mr. Gilfillan, to our thinking, thereforesho s
but little discrimination in the manner of this' w
straggling and indifferent article. Many of the figurative
sentences are, of course, inimitable—it would be diffi-
cult for Mr. Gilfillan to write anything, however
carelessly, without casual gleams of beauty, both in
thought and expression. There is truth, no doubt, in
these brilliant sentences. Speaking of the verses of
Tennyson, "It is the voice and lute of Ariel ; but
heard not in a solitary and enchanted island, but in a
modern drawing-room, with beautiful women
bending round, and moss-roses breathing, in their
faint fragrance, through the half opened windows."
• . . . " From the sublime to the snug, and vice
versa, is with him but a single step. We may liken
him to the sea-shell, which, sitting complacently and
undistinguished among the commonplace ornaments
of the mantelpiece, has only to he lifted to give forth
from its smooth ear the far-rugged boom of the ocean
breakers." . . . . "By sobs of sound, by half
hints of meaning, by light, hurrying strokes on the
ruddy chords of the heart, by a ringing of changes
on certain words and phrases, he sways us as if with
the united powers of music and poetry." . . . .
"He paints vivid and complete pictures in a few
lively touches, and by a few airy words, as if caught
in dropping from the sky." So far there is accuracy
in these delineations of the peculiarites of the intel-
lect of Tennyson—but no farther. Mr. Gilfillan
views that intellect only from one point. He cannot
turn it on a pivot, like those whirligig poetasters who
show you all the phases and sides of their mental
character at once ; and he won't take the trouble to
make a circuit round it himself. hence the paper is
crammed full of inconsistencies. He likens Tenny-
son's verse, for 'example, to Ariel ; but Ariel, be it
observed, in a drawing-room among moss-roses and
beautiful women. The " Two Voices" are marvel-
lously like the voice of Ariel ! The "vision of Sin"
IA wonderfully suggestive of a modern drawing-room !
The lamentations of " St. Simeon Stylites" are exces-
sively like the breathings of moss-roses ! Absurd,
literally absurd, as these metaphors are when
employed not as illustrative of a single cha-
racteristic, but .as indicating the entire grasp
and indisposition of the poet; they are endur-
able when compared with the self-sufficiency of
the notices of the separate poems. " Mariana at the
Aloated Grange," the " Talking Oak," the "May
Queen," and " Oriana," are dismissed with their
mere enumeration. The " Lotos Eaters," a piece
brimming with the very dew of the " land of drowsy-
head" is slurred over with an impertinent kind
of half complaint. "Dora" is summarily dismissed,
after being likened to a "deep quiet pool." And
" Godiva" is considered in just fifteen lines. While
the whole of the latter part of the articles is de-
voted to an extravagant panegyric upon the author of
" Festus," as if the talent of the author of " restos"
had anything to do with Alfred Tennyson I Why,
the little poems we have named are worth fifty " Fes-
tuses," with their "buttered thunders 1' The paper
is apparently intended as a dispassionate and complete
survey of the capacity of Tennyson, and yet nothing
is said about the exquisite poem of "The Sleeping
Beauty ;" nothing is said of the impassioned wailings
of " St. Simeon Stylites ;" nothing is said of the chaste
and perfect ballad of "The Miller's Daughter;" no-
thing is said of the " Lord of Burghley," of the
" Walk to the Mail," of the "Gardener's
Child," of " Lady Clara Veve de Vere," of the "Lad;T
of Chalott," of the fragment Morte d'Arthur,
or of " Elianora." As we enumerate these solely
from recollection, it will be manifest that the over-
sights of Mr. Gilfillan are extraordinary, when he
professes in one part to mention the more remarkable
of Tennyson's writings. Several of those we have
have just mentioned as altogether unnoticed by him
are among the niost remarkable of Tennyson's poems.
It is some compensation, however, to find that the
writer can appreciate the sentiment of " Locksley
Hall," and that he is so far incited to enthusiasm by
the refrain about " the golden prime of good Ha-
roum Alraschid," as to speak of the " Arabian Nights
Entertainments " in this wise :—" The Thousand-
and•one Nights' is one enchantment—more powerful
than the lamp of Alladin, or the open sesame of Ali
Baba. The author, were he one—not many—is a
magician—a—geni---greater than Scott, than Cer-
vantes, equal to Shakspere himself. What poetry,
passion, pathos, beauty of sentiment, elegance of
costume, ingenuity of contrivance, wit, humour, farce,
interest, variety, tact in transition, sunniness of spirit,
dream-like wealth of imagination, incidental but pre-
cious light cast upon customs, manners, history, re-
ligion—everything, in short, that can amuse or
amaze, instruct or delight the human spirit !" If we
could sympathise in no other particular with Mr.
Gilfillan we could to the uttermost in his admiration
for those glorious beards of poetry and treasuries of
fiction. After a pithy but dry essay upon " Success
in Life," the readers of Tait are presented with a
condensed continuation and completion of " Mrs.
Thornton's Truth and Falsehood,' a tale that was
suddenly interrupted by the publication in the ma-
gazine of Mrs. Gore's very feeble and very unworthy
novel of " Temptation and Atonement." Thomas
de Quincey is very nearly bereft of what Bardolph
would call his " seven sentences," when speaking of
Wordsworth. It is well paganism is exploded, other-
wise we should be in danger of seeing the Opium
eater one of these fine days offering a kid and let-
tuces before the shrine of the Poet Laureate, or pour-
ing a libation of the decoction of poppies upon Itydal
Mount. The paper by De Quincey, headed "Milton
versus Southey and Lander," is a clever but bewil-
dering rhapsody. Mr. Burton's "Lives of Lord
Lovat and Forbes, of Culloden," forming an excellent
supplement to Mrs. Thomson's "History of the
Jacobites," are reviewed, and a biography of the late
James Calder, one of the old school of reformers, is
contained among the miscellaneous contributions.
Besides a temperate article upon " Government
Education" there arc minor criticisms, and the usual
Political Register. Alluding to the aid received by
Lord George Bentinck from the Hon. Gentleman the
Member for Shrewsbury, Tait caustically observes—
" His Lordship's sting is in his tail, and it is pitiful
that the tail of a very medium person should be of
such rare and sterling genius!' It is the genius, the
slave of the Lamp.

CHRISTOPHER TADPOLE. By Albert Smith,
Part VIII.

The 25th chapter, which commences the present
number, jumps over a space of six years :
" And you must allow your author to carry you to
another land. You must imagine a strange and noise-
less city, with silent highways of water for countless
boats, instead of rattling thoroughfares for cabs and
carts, looking for all the world like rows of ruined Re-
form Club-houses built on the banks of the Serpentine.
Strange black looking craft, like floating hearses, glide
about the streets, giving you the idea. that one half of
the population is burying the other halt ; and every now
and then you come upon a view, which you appear to be
already well acquainted with, from a perforated card,
water-coloured drawing in an album, or a print in an
annual, or some dining room picture, associated with an
agreeab:e party, heat-frosted claret jugs and early
asparagus.
" You will see no trees—a Bloomsbury-square lilac
would be a grove by comparison. And you will meet
no horses—the most wretched cab-hack in London
might be kept for a show, and create a great sensation.
The thoroughfares are all alleys, and the alleys are
nothing but back-doors leading to narrow bridges
crossing small stagnant canals making you think
every instant that you are coming to some docks.
But you are not, nevertheless. And you may soon
miss your way if you lose sight of any of
the landmarks, resembling square parish churches,
with cheap obelisks on their summits, which
rice i n so many directions, The boats are called gon-

doles ; the square towers are called cainpai.ites ; and
the name of aleta place itself is Venice.
" You cannot get there by land. The city lies out
away from the shore, high and dry, like the Goodwin-
sands at low water. So you go in boats—first along
rows of extensive Puddle-docks, and then over what
might be taken for A, huge flooded race course, the post
and rails of which just appear above the water, so that
there is no great fear of drowning ; the whole tract re-
minding intelligent travellers of the Essex marshes out
at sea. And before getting there you must not be quite
led away by the poets, who are from time to time taken
so poorly respecting its beauties ; because the approach
thereto from Mestre—which is to Venice what Twicken-
ham is to Eel Pie Island—is not exactly like the dio-
ramas and descriptions you have formed your notions
from. In fact, in common-place minds, it may suggest
unfavourable comparisons with Wapping, until the pas-
sage boat emerges into the great water-street of this
amphibious city of human beavers."
This description of Venice, though less poetical, is
infinitely more correct than the descriptions to be
found in the note-books of sentimental travellers.
Gudge, his wife, and Mrs. Hamper, whom they
have picked up at Boulogne, arrive at an hotel at
Venice, and there they find Christopher officiating as
the English waiter. Gudge attempts to bully
him, but it will not do ; Christopher is a
man now, and knows that there is a mystery
attached to his birth. He has been shipped off from
Southampton to Leghorn, and from thence has been
transferred to Vienna. He sets Gudge at defiance,
end appeals to Sir Frederick Arden, and when in-
formed that Sir Frederick Arden is dead, he bates
nothing of his courage, but avows his intention to
proceed to England and discover the mystery of his
his birth. Mrs. Hamper, who has palmed herself upon
the Gudges meets with some high friends who are
going to Florence, and determines to palm herself
upon them. She therefore leaves Venice for Florence,
via Bologna, but on her journey is attacked by bri-
gands, and taken up into the stronghold, where she is
detained as a prisoner for the sake of the ransom
which they expect to receive for her. Sprouts has
succeeded to the library, and is on the eve of mar-
riage with Betsy Payne. The Jolyman has been
long married to Miss Twits, and Sprouts and the
party go down to Greenwich Fair, where they meet
with Skittle and the Taglioni Ginger Beer Cart, who
introduces them to Hickory and to Luddy's daughter,
en interesting girl of fifteen (poor Luddy is dead),',
and in the course of conversation Hickory relates the
early history of Christopher, and Sprouts announces
his intention of filling up the clue which
Hickory has furnished in order to he revenged on
Gudge. It will be seen that this part 8 leaves all
the parties concerned in an interesting imbroglio,
and we await with curiosity the appearance of part 9.

VAI
nNt/hTe Yo
pFe
nAi
n/gT? . Part 117. By W. M. Thackeray'
find ourselves again
the
e these reeysse na
and
(It number w r
nees
in Russell-square. Poor Amelia loves George
Osborne with her whole heart, but we are afraid that
George Osborne will turn out a worldling after all,
and not worthy the affection of poor Amelia. We
are also introduced to old Osborne, the very beau
ideal of a vulgar purse-proud parvenu, who would
fain cut old Sedley, the founder of his fortunes, because
the world has not gone well with him of late and who,
more than insinuates to George that it would be well
that he should violate his engagement with Amelia.
Miss Rebecca Sharpe is domiciled in the house of
Miss Crawley, in Park-lane, having ejected all Miss
Crawley's toady's, and Rebecca is visited there daily
by Rawdon Crawley, who has become acquainted
with George Osborne, and plucked him gloriously at
billiards. Rebecca calls on Amelia, and invites her to
dine at Miss Crawley's in Park-lane. George Os-
borne and Rztwdon Crawley are also invited, when the
following admirable scene takes place:—
" How's little Miss Sharp, by-the-bye," Osborne in-
quired of his friend over their wine, with a dandified
air. " Good-natured little girl that. Does she suit you
well at Queen's Crawley? Miss Sedley liked her a good
deal last year."
Captain Crawley looked savagely at the Lieutenant
out of his little blue eyes, and watched him when he
went up to resume his acquaintance with the fair gover-
ness. Her conduct must have relieved Crawley if there
was any jealousy in the bosom of that life-guardsman.
When the young men went up stairs, and after Os-
borne's introduction to Miss Crawley, he walked up to
Rebecca with a patronising, easy swagger. He was
going to be kind to her and protect her. He would
even shake hands with her, as a friend of Amelia's ;
and saying, " Ah, Miss Sharp ! how-dy-doo ?" held
out his left hand towards her, expecting that she would
be quite confounded at the honour.
Miss Sharp put out her right fore-finger—And gave
him a little nod, so cool and killing, that Rawdon Craw-
ley, watching the operations from the other room, could
hardly restrain his laughter as he saw the Lieutenant's
entire discomfiture ; the start he gave, the pause, and
the perfect clumsiness with which he at length conde-
scended to take the finger which was offered for his
embrace.
" She 'd beat the devil, by Jove !" the Captain said,
in a rapture ; and the Lieutenant, by way of beginning
the conversation, agreeably asked Rebecca how she
liked her new place.
" My place?" said Miss Sharp, coolly, " how kind of
you to remind me of it ! It's a tolerably good place :
the wages are pretty good—not so good as Miss Wirt's.
I believe, with your sisters in Russell Sluare. How
are those young ladies?—not that I ought to ask."
" Why not?" Mr. Osborne said, amazed.
W hy, they never condescended to speak to me, or
to ask me into their house, whilst I was staying with
Amelia ; but we poor governesses, you know, are used
to slights o! this sort."
" My dear Miss Sharp !" Osborne ejaculated.
"At least in some families," Rebecca continued. ,

" You can't think what a difference there is though. We
are not so wealthy in Hampshire as you lucky folks of
the city. But th-n lamin a gentleman's family—good
old Engish stock. I suppose you know Sir Pitt's father
refuscql a peerage. And you see how lam treated. I
am pretty comfortable. Indeed, it is rather a good
place. But- how very good of you to inquire !"
Osborne was quite ~avNge. The little governess pa-
tronised him and persiified him until this young British
Lion felt quite uneasy ; nor could he muster sufficient
presence of mind to find a pretext for backing out of
this most delectable conversation.

" I thought you liked the City families pretty well,"
he said haughtily.
" Last year you mean, when I was fresh from that
horrid vulgar school ? Of course I did. Doesn't ever)
girl like to come home for the holidays? And how was
Ito know any better? But It, Mr. Osborne, what a
difference eighteen months' experience makes'.—eighteen
months spent, pardon me for saying so, with gentlemen.
As fie- dear Amelia, she, I grant you, is a pearl, and
would be charming anywhere. There now, I see you
are beginning to he in a good humour ; but oh, these
(Fleur odd City people ! And Mr. Jos.—how is that
wonderful Mr. Joseph?"
" It seems to me you didn't dislike that wonderful Mr.
Joseph last year," Osborne said kindly.
" llow severe of you! Well, entre nous,l didn't break
my heart about him ; yet it he had asked me to do what.
you mean by your looks (and very expressive and kind
they are, too), I wouldn't have said no."
Mr. Osborne gave a look as much as to say," Indeed,
how very obliging!"
" What an honour to have had you for a brother-in-
law, you are thinking? To be sister-in-law to George Os-
borne, Esquire, son 3f John Osborne, Esquire, son of—
what was your grandpapa, Mr. Osborne? Well, don't
be angry. You can't help your pedigree, and I quite
agree with you that I would have married Mr. Joe
Medley; for could a poor penniless girl do better? Now
you know the whole secret. I'm frank and open ; and,
considering all things, it was very kind of you to
allude to the circumstance—very kind and polite.
Amelia, dear, Mr. Osborne and I were talking about
your poor brother Joseph. How is he?"
Thus was George utterly routed. Not that Rebecca
was in the right; but she had managed most successfully
to put him in the wrong. And he now shamefully fled,
feeling if he stayed another minute, that he would have
been made to look foolish in the presence of Amelia.

Poor Rebecca, however, is caught in her own trap.
Lady Crawley dies, and the Baronet himself comes
to London to induce Rebecca to return to Queen's
Crawley :
" I wawnt you back at Queen's Crawley, Miss," the
baronet said, fixing his eyes upon her, and taking off
his black gloves and his hat with its great crape hat-
band.
His eyes had such a strange look, and fixed
upon her so steadfastly, that Rebecca Sharp began
almost to tremble.
" I hope to come soon," she said in a low voice, " as
soon as Miss Crawley is better—and return to—to the
dear children."
" You've said so these three months, Becky," replied
Sir Pitt, " and still you go hanging on to my sister,
who'll fling you off like an old shoe, when she's wore
you out. I tell you I want you. I'm going hack to the
Vuneral. Will you come back? Yes or ne?"
" I daren't—l don't think—it would be right—to be
alone—with you, Sir," Becky said, seemingly in great
agitation.
" I say agin, I want you," Sir Pitt said, thumping the
table. " I can't git on without you. I didn't see what
it was till you went away. The house all goes wrong.
It's not the same place. All my accounts has got mud-
dlcd agin. You must come back. Do come back, Dear
Becky, do come."
" Come—as what, Sir?" Rebecca gasped out.
" Come as Lady Crawley, if you like," the baronet
said, grasping his crape bat "There! will that aatusfy
you? Come back and be my wife. Your vit vort. Birth
be hanged. You're as good a ludy as ever I see. You've
got more brains in your little vinger than any baronet's
wife in the county. Will you come? Yes or no?"
" Oh, Sir Pitt," Rebecca said, very much moved_
" Say yes, Becky," Sir Pitt cr,ntiuued. " I'm an old
man, but a good'n. I'm good for twenty years. I'll
make you happy, zee if I don't. You shall do what
you like ; spend what you like ; and 'av it all your own
way. I'll make you a zettlement. I'll do everything
reglar. Look y'ear !" and the old man fell down on his
knees and leered at her like a satyr.
Rebecca started buck a picture of conzternation. In
the course of this history we ha►e never seen her lose
her presence of mind ; but she did now, and wept
some of the most genuine tears that ever fell from her
eyes.
" Oh, Sir Pitt!" she said. " Oh, Sir—l--I'm mar-
ried already."

The execution of Catherino Foster, for poisoning
her husband, is axed for Saturday, April 17.

SPORTING INTELLIGENCE.
NEWMARKET CRAVEN MEETING.
NEWMARKET, TUESDAY NIGHT, TWELVE O'CLOCK.
LATEST BETTING.
COLumN STAKES.—AII that are talked of as starters
are Epirote. Red Hart, Bingham, and probably Shawn
Buidhe or Palma. 6 to 5 agst Red Hart (taken and
aftvrwards offilred).
SOMERSETSHIRE STAKES.
6 to 4 agst Clermont.
TWO THOUSAND GUINEAS STAKES.
7 to 4 agst Planet I 4 to 1 agst The Liberator
METROPOLITAN STAKES.
3 to 1 agst Clermont 112 to 1 agst Wolfdog—t.
12 to 1 ag6t Rufus
1,000 to 500 on Claremo:
dog—taken
CHEST
20 to 1 agst Dulcet (t)

)ilt (Euclid colt) apt Wolf•

DER

7 to 2 agst Kent's lot (t)
9 to 1 agst Scott's lot (t)
14 to 1 agst Forth's lot (t)

15 to 2 agst Van Tromp (t)
to 1 agst Planet
i 7 to 1 agst Epirote

„ .
22 to 1 agst Liberator (t)
20 to I agst Glentilt (t)
25 to 1 agst Red Ham—

taken freely
BETTING AT MAN(
NEWMARKE'

at Cup.
40 to 1 agst Sting (t)
.11Y.
33 to 1 agst Mr. Martin
40 to 1 agq War Eagle (t)
40 to I agst Mathematician
40 to I agst Bingham
1,000 to 15 agst Good Coin
(t)
1,000 to 10 agst Notting.
ham (t)
1,000 to 10 agst Halo (t)

RESTER.-TUESDAY.
T HANDICAP.

4 to 1 agst Sting (t) 8 to 1 agst Euclid colt (t)
5 to 1 agst Vanish (t) 10 to 1 ngst Campanile (t)
to 1 agst Footstool (t) 12 to 1 agst Kesheng.
The confusion that arose from the departure of the
crowd immediately after the race for the Newmarket
Handicap, prevented our obtaining particulars of the
running in time to forward them with the result. We
now subjoin them:—
NEWMARKET HANDICAP.—It iS almost superfluous
to say that the horses were got together without, and
precisely at the time fixed were started at the first
signal. Th? fiat running was made by Devil-
rne Care, followed by Lynceus, Vampyre, Free
Lance, Best Bower, and a few others, the heavy
weight laying well up with them, in a cluster; all, in
fact, were in good positions except Clermont (the Eu-
clid colt), who blundered just after starting, and lost a
little ground, fortunately for him, the pace was not
great, and he reached his horses befor they had run a
quarter of a mile. At the bushes, Lynceus, who had
been, and still was, pulling double, took the lead from
Devil-me-care, and with Vampyre, Devil-me-care,
Palma, and Queen of Tyne, at his heels, carried
on the runt ing to the turn of the lands, Cler-
mont here took the second place, and getting
clear of his horses, followed about two lengths in the
wake of Lynceus, who was still pulling hard. Vanish
next showed with the leading horses, then Sting, and
Vampyre dropping back, the race, about half way be-
tween the turn and the Duke's Stand, was left to four.
Clermont now ran up to Lynceus, had no difficulty in
depriving him of his lead, kept in front to the chair, and
won cleverly by a length. Vanish and Sting passed Lyn-
ceus about 50 yards from home, and made a sporting race,
for the second money, which the horse won for his owner
by a head. Lynceus a good fourth, Vampyre fifth, and
Palma sixth; run in 3 min. 9 sec. Mr. Gregory is said
to have netted 4,0001., in addition to the stake, which,
free from deductions, amounted to 1,125/. Some of his
friends also came off good winners. As is ever the case
when favourites win, the round betters are losers.

WEDNESDAY.

Again a shy list, but containing a race of great in-
terest in the Column, for which two nags that have made
some figure in the Derby betting, and have been laid
against to an amount that must have wofully
shaken the confidence of their friends, made their
appearance. On Tuesday night it was not at all
clear that Epirote would show, and in consequence
Itvd Hart was backed at a fraction less than
evens ; 25 to 1 was also taken frely about him for the
Derby, for which event Epirote receded to 17 to 1 ; he
suffered a further decline this morning, notwithstanding
the arrival of Mr. Bowes removed all doubt about his
starting, as much as 25 to 1, in hundreds, having been
taken against him !
From the description of the race it will be gathered
that Red Hart cut up badly, and that Epirote achieved
an easy victory, a moderate animal of Col. Peel's ob-
taining the second place. 1,000 to 10 was offered against
Red Hart after race, and 1,000 even laid between The
Liberator and Epirote.
A dead heat prolonged a day's sport that, apart from
the Column, excited little interest. The weather was
favourable and the attendance select.
Subscription Plate 501.; for 3 yrs old, 7st; 4 yrs, Bst 71b;
5 yrs, 9st; 6 yrs and aged, 9st 21b; T.Y.C.
Lord Exeter's IVood Pigeon, 5 yrs
Mr. Mostyn's Wildernes4, 4 yrs
Mr. Robert's Mogulistan, 3 yrs
Mr. Ford's Shahzadee, 3 yrs

Lord Orford's 'l'arella, 3 yrs
Betting 3tol on Wilderness. Shahzadee made the
running followed by Wood Pigeon, Tarells, and Wilder-
ne.s lying off. They went without change to the cords,
where Wilderness joined company, and the lot ran in
a cluster for a few strides; Wilderness and Wood
Pigeon then quitted their horses, ran home head and
head, and finished with a dead heat. Run in 1 min. 15
secs. Deciding Heat-2 to lon Wilderness. The horse
made all the running, and won by a length. Time 1 min.

12 secs.
Sweepstakes or 5o sovs. each, for 3 yrs old; colts, Sst 71b,
and fillios,B;t lib. D.M. (8 Subs.)
Duke of Richmond's Halo (Nat) 1

C,lonel Anson's Lazirillo
Lord Lonsdale's Ibrahim Pacha

Betting-2 to lon llalo, who made all the running,
and won in a canter by two lengths. Time 1 minute
44 suconi.=.

Lie Colum Stakes, of 50 30V3. each, h ft, for 3 yrs-cld

R.M. (31 Subs,)
Mr. Bowes's Epirote, 3st 21h.. (F. Butler) 1
Colonel Peel's Palma, Bst llb 2
Duke of Richmond's Red Hart, Bst 71b
Lord Exeter's Veronetz, Bst 21b
Bettinz-2 to lon Epirote. Red Hurt made running
at a bad pace for a quarter of a mile, and was then dis-
placed by Palma, who carried it on to the bushes, where
Epirote took it ui) at an improved pace, was never after-
wards caught, and won cleverly by a length, Palma
beating Red hart as far. Varouetz nowhere. Time 1
min. 49 secs.