field. The wind-up of the day was the match between Nottingham, ridden by Capt. Peel, and Croesus, by his owner Capt. Campbell. The former is known as a very fair amateur jockey, the latter as, I believe, one of the best gentlemen billiard-players going. He had been in intense preparation for this set-to, and had backed his horse for a round sum; but it must not be disguised that he made a miserably bad fight of it. He led up to the Duke's Standard, when Capt. Peel drew on him; for Croesus was already in difficulties: like others similarly situated, he met with no assistance in the moment of his worst need. At the finish his master let go his head-in short, abandoned him to his fate; while Capt. Peel, sticking the needles into Nottingham, "holed" his adversary most artistically.

Tuesday, the cynosure of the meeting, rose all sunlight and fair promise, but by no means realized the hopes of those who counted on tens of thousands flocking to the tryst. The company (in numbers) was a good one, but considerably less than the attendance was on the same occasion last year. It need not be said that the great event was the Cesarewitch, the greatest popular race at Newmarket. The Two Thousand has its attractions; but the very fact of the Cesarewitch being a handicap, surrounds it with a halo of interest for the million. A question affecting the weight to be carried by Jenny Wren had been very properly decided over night by the committee appointed to settle it. She was originally handicapped at 5st. 6lbs. ; the conditions being, that any winner between the time of publishing the weights on the tenth of September and the day of running to carry 5lbs. extra. Now, Jenny Wren won the Staffordshire Stakes at Lichfield on the ninth of September; and the weights for the Cesarewitch were published on that day instead of the tenth as originally declared, undoubtedly from some oversight of the publishers of the Racing Calendar. The position of Jenny Wren was not to be injured by the tort of other parties; it was weak to moot such a point; and therefore I will not sacrifice space in dealing with the defence of it. But I will ask, why there should not be some day of the week, or some days of the month, on which the Sheet Racing Calendar should regularly come out? All other journals and periodicals are published according to some rule of time or other; but you never know when you are to look for your Sheet Calendar till you see it.

The racing commenced with the Royal Stakes, won by Lady Anna, whom no one seemed to think was in the race; and then, indeed, as before and during it, serious work was made of the Cesarewitch. From the few horses backed, say half-a-dozen or thereabouts, getting round was out of the question; so the poor bookmakers had to grin and bear it. After various alterations in the telegraph, it appeared that twenty-seven would really come to the post; and after similar doings in the ring, the betting left the Baron at 5 to 1, Jenny Wren at the same odds, Boarding School Miss at 7 to 1, Intrepid 10 to 1, Paint Brush 12 to 1, Vol-au-Vent-that came just before the race with a Chifney rush-the same: Remorse 15 to 1, and then the outsiders from 25 to 1 downwards, all without friends. The start was unanimous, this department working capitally upon the new principle,

[Est modus in rebus, sunt certi denique fines] all coming to the post orderly, and leaving it in as admired order. Of course, upon system, the light-weights made the running as long as they could; but Nottingham presently broke down, and others were sooner or later diddled. Through the Ditch they came-a most imposing phalanx; (for after all, Newmarket is the only place to see a field of seven-andtwenty horses in actual racing, as they move and have their being, run across the long flat) upon better terms than one was prepared for. But the speed, though steady, had not been good; and even at the bushes, the beaten were less numerous than the most sanguine had reckoned on. Here, first, those without racing-glasses became aware that the Baron was in front clear of his horses, and obviously with the race in hand. He won very easily by a length, with Wee Pet for second, and—no matter about the rest. Almost as soon as the result was known, they took 2 to 1 about him for the Cambridgeshire. Anon it came out, that Mr. Watts had sold him to Mr. E. R. Clark, who soon after came in to the Subscription Room at Tattersall's, and announced that the Baron should not start for the Cambridgeshire unless twelve thousand pounds to one thousand were laid to him against that horse for the race. This was strictly according to the precedent established by a leading member of the Jockey Club, in the case of Elis for the Leger, nine years ago; even the odds and the sums required were the same-I say according to a precedent established, because I know of no measures being taken at the time, or subsequently, to declare the practice opposed to the principles of racing, or inconvenient as a custom among gentlemen.... Will the recurrence of the occasion, mutato nomine, bring about any change in the policy? Time will tell.... The Clearwell, with seven starters, and Sting backed to win at 5 to 2, could scarcely be expected to command much interest. This colt is the most perfect two-year-old ever seen, with

his form in another year be like what it is at present, woe to those who are against him for the Derby. But this is a contingency of rare befalling. It was so in Attilla's case-and yet that first-class racer was revolutionized by one attempt at oppression: as with states, so with steeds. In a match for £500, Cataract receiving 7lbs. and a year from Sorella, won in a canter. The Squire is not quite au fait at match-making; indeed how should he, being a Benedict?

Wednesday, as to the forenoon, was devoted to the settling here of accounts due-those of hopes too rashly indulged. One heard of all sorts of rascally shuffling and contrivance, which one ventures to trust was not actually as bad as represented, and to assert, if it was only half as infamous, that it ought to have earned for its professors the bottom of the nearest horse-pond. The sport was no great matter: the chief of its features was the match for £200, won by Celia, and the Oatlands by Jet-my Lord Exeter victorious in two consecutive races! Metal won the Town Plate. Longitude ran for this plate; but her jockey having weighed beyond the Ditch, she was not telegraphed among the starters. No doubt precaution will be adopted to prevent such a chance in future, of which very sinister use might be made. Deerchase won a small 10 sovs. Sweepstakes for two-year-olds,

and Prologue beat Vaudeville and Conrad for a 200 sovs. Sweepstakes; and this constituted all the racing of the day.

Thursday was profuse of sunshine and racing; the latter excellent also in quality. First came a match between Mr. Greville's Motilla, and Lord Glasgow's Miss Whip colt, for 200 sovs. each, T.Y.C., which of course the latter lost. A Sweepstakes of 10 sovs. each for two-year-olds and upwards, Lord Exeter won with his filly, by Beiram out of Mantof, beating a decent field of half-a-dozen; and a similar Sweepstakes as regards amount of subscription, for two-yearolds only, was won by the Duke of Rutland's colt, by Slane out of Voluptuary, in the Derby. For that this was a promising trial I suppose, this colt is now the property of Lord George Bentinck at the price of £250. For a match, T.Y.C., giving a stone and a half, the Bishop of Romford's colt beat Duc-an-Durras; and then for a £100 Handicap Plate field of sixteen came to the post. It was won, after a fine race, by Mr. Onslow's Ruff, 3 yrs., 6st. 9lbs. The course was across the Flat, and among other cracks beaten was Intrepid. How they came to fancy him for the Cesarewitch, I do not presume to guess. The Bretby Stakes for two-year-old fillies brought out three of the eight entered, the trio running a slashing race, all ending "of a ruck." The winner was Cuckoo, (which makes the performance for the Hopeful, already alluded to, very good. The day's work finished with a match for £50, wherein Minus beat Moonbeam.

Friday was a gloomy affair altogether. Moreover, something was obviously out of joint touching the Baron's general position. Some said he was in physic; some said only feigning to be so, to dose those who might be caught against him. All this is wretched work mixed up with the recreation of gentlemen. In a match for £150, equal weights, T.Y.C., the Cobweb colt beat Comrade in a canter. And then came two chicken handicaps, both won by Lord George Bentinck with African and Astern, in the order they are here. Prologue gave Deodara a stone and a half, and an awful beating, the Rowley Mile; and Lord George Bentinck ran first and second for the Prendergast, with Princess Alice and Ennui, in their order. For 200 sovs. each, Oakly, on the T.Y.C., gave Hartshorn 3st. 7lb., easily. The career of Oakly as a match-runner is surely without a parallel in the annals of the British turf. A Sweepstakes of 10 sovs. each, for two-year-olds and upwards, first half of Abingdon Mile, Col. Peel's Caen won cleverly. And this brought the meeting to a close, at 3 P.M. Its character is to be gleaned from these its details in epitome. I wish I could venture to say-as my own opinion -that it put forth any prospect of racing being released from the ill report which attaches to it as the agent of unscrupulous adventurers, and a resort which brings men of honour into mischievous association with the most unprincipled portion of society.