The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1876-11-17
THE LAST OF LIMMER'S.
A Famous london Sporting Hotel Torn
V.dEOCiil1uprJ : Down W9n baflo'il Pr

the West end OF boHdOn, hhs occn nc
molished. 1t was to onr fathers and
grandfathers what the Turf Club, Pratt's,
the Victoria and Albert are to. sporting
men of to-day. The London. Telegraph
INDUCES in the following comments
upon the event: rrr -rs..r--.) ,.8a. 4. e,i
"The name of Limmer's Hotel, as be-
ing the foremost tavern OF its class IN
the world, has been coextensive in cell
ebrity with 'Weatherby's' and 'Tatter-
salls.' Crop after crop OF gallant and
light hearted youngsters has ariseE, has
run its course and fallen before the in
exorable scythe of the bookmaker, leav-
ing no other record of its existence, and
no other epitaph than the inscription OF
its not always settled tavern accounts
upon the faithful and suggestive register
at Limmer's. What punishment have
not the supporters of Limmer's endured
since the Prince Regent and Sheridan
and Beau Brummel cracked their first
bottle under its roof, when The century
was in it's babyhood. Poor Berkeley
Craven dined there on the night preced-
ing Bay Middleton's victory in the
Derby of 1886, and his anguished, NOR
ibund cry of Jersey wins I still rings
ominously as we catch it up from the
page OF Raikes' tell-tale diary. When
Limmer's was at its zenith, from 1880 to
1860, what a troop of mad rogues'
thronged its passages, We're bitten as
the old pharse randy the farmhouse
at its bar and in it's coffee-room, and
made it their favorite camping-ground
as week followed week and left them
still in town. In that little mirror-pan-
eled recess at the bottom of the coffee
room the preliminaries of more prize
fights have been arranged by Sir st.
Vincent Cotton, Parson Ambrose, the
late Lord Queensberry, the famous
Marquis of Waterford, and two Jack
Myttons, the late Lord Longford, and
Tom Crommelin than in the upper cham
Der of Mr.. Bowling, editor of Belts
Life, or at Owen Swift's bar, or in Tom
Springs back parlor, or Ben Caunt's
snuggery.
GA pursuit which was enthusiastically
supported and believed in by William
Windham, Charles James Fox, Lord
Althorp, and Lord Byron, stands in lit
tie need of modern excuses on behalf of
its promoters when Limmer's was at its
apogee. Full many a well-known pugil-
list, with Michael-Angelo nose and
square cut jaw, has stood, cap in hand,
at the door of that historical coffee-room
within which Lord Queensberry-then
Lord Drumlanrig-and Capt. VIM. Peel
and the late Lord Strathmore were TAX
ing their meals. Whether it was break
fast, luncheon or dinner that they were
eating there was no clock and no incon-
venient human monster to tell. The
gas burnt by day and night alike, and
the genuine habitue of the famous tav-
ern came home to bed when his day was
over and his humor prompted him. It
is but q few years since poor Charley
Wemyss, during a long soiourn at Linn
mer's, remarked that he had never found
life in London more cheap, seeing that
he never had occasion to wear anything
but evening clothes. In that capacious
coffee-room there has been more Life
in London enacted than Pierce Egan
ever recapitulated, or his Tom and
Jerry ever saw. In one window stood
Col. Ouseley Higgins, Capt William
Peel, and Capt. Little, debating, head
to head, how the ways and means were
to he found in order that Pioneer might
be sent to run for the Worcester steeple-
chase. At the table farthest from the
Conduit street windows was seated Jack
Mytton, with ample shirt-sleeves rolled
back over the cuffs of his evening coat,
and with a snowy eXpanse of shirt bosom
upon which mice might have run races.
A servant, with an unmist ,kable fighting
face, steals softly into the room with
note from his master, Maj. Hope John
stone, who is Immediately solicit
oil by Lord Lonford and Sir
Vincent Cotton to allow his valet
TO be trained by Johnny Walker
for proximate prize-fght. The SER
vant-who is none other than William
Nelson, the breeder (before his recent
death) of Plebeian, the winner Of the
Middle Park plate-frmly declines. At
the remote end of the room. close to
Conduit street, sits Johnny O'Brien,
fresh from his triumphs with Jonathan
Wild in the Goodwood stakes and Grims-
ton in the Goodwood cup. AS night
falls there is a motley gathering of sport
ing men to see what is going on at
Limmer's.' Among them comes Mr..
Greville, with his blue evening coat and
brass buttons, and with the knob of his
stick held habitually up to his lips. He
asks for a modest 1000 to 20 about
Alarm for the Cambridgeshire. Lord
Wichelsea had just finished dinner at
the table adjoining the column furthest
from the fireplace, aud proclaims his
anxiety to lay 5000 to 40 on the
field. Old Justice, with his lame leg
and his open book in hand, hobbies
hither and thither with a list of dead
MS up his sleeve. Even the stately
Lord George may occasionally be seen,
as he retires into corner with his favor
tie commissioner, Harry Hill, before
walking down the passage arm in-arm
with his handsome young friend, Frank
Villiers. Lord Chesterfield and Col.
Forester came in fresh from a trial at
Bretby, which may possibly add Mrs.
Taft or Bathilde to the scroll of
Cesarewitch or Cambridgeshire winners.
Lord Derby and Col. Arson are anxious.
ly watching the maneuvers of the COM
missioner to whom they have instructed
the manipulation of SCOTS Derby ia
vorite, against whom Sir Joseph Hawley
has since taken shot by laying 5000 to
200. There is not reporter in the
room, and, if transporting stranger