through something he's afraid to jump over. He wears a cap and a dirty face under, as if he fell asleep in his chair last night, and forgot to wash when he got up in the morning. He has a detestably-stained pink, badly cleaned leathers, and highly wrinkled and lowly polished boots. He rides a seedy chesnut, with some good shape about him, but no flesh, no fore-legs, and ragged hips; and no wonder, for he does five days a fortnight. This is our snob: surely he supplies the NHwith an account of our runs, for as he never takes part in them, perhaps he sees them the better-mind free from anxiety and his body from danger. They've found a fox in the gorse: a ring to the village again; and three gentlemen down out of the twelve who are with them in the three first fences: a slight check at the village, and a fine opportunity for the roadsters, for away we go at a rattling pace again, and run into the varmint on Lord Henley's lawn at Watford. Everybody was first some part of the way; but whether in the road, or over the grass, is so invidious a question that it is never put. The pony-carriage had the best of it along the road certainly; but it happened to be the shortest road, we having done the distance in about thirty-five minutes across the country. An excellent luncheon recompensed me for being nearly ridden over at the third fence it must have been accidental, as I have not an enemy in the world. My kindest regards to your mother; and pray take care of yourself at this dangerous season of the year. Burn this-for what would "snob" say if he saw it: and believe me, Yours very faithfully, Nov. 30, 1846. SCRIBBLE. P.S. We've a hard frost that looks like lasting.-S. -- THE HIGH-METTLED RACER. PLATE VIII. THE ROAD. ENGRAVED BY E. HACKER, FROM A PAINTING BY J. F. HERRING, SEN. "And when the thorough-bred one did settle down to his trot, his snorting could be heard by the passengers, being as much as to say, 'I was not born a slave.' In fact, as the proprietor observed, he had been a very fair plate horse in his time.""-"THE ROAD," BY NIMROD. The eighth event in the life of a race-horse belongs entirely to one certain period. Not very many years since, and the system of travelling was altogether too slow to allow him to make one at it; while in a very few years hence he will be as totally incapacitated from just the reverse cause. We have chosen, in fact, an era for dating from, that lets him down as gently and comfortably as possible. There are, or were, few more regular or fairer portions than that of a good coach-horse; it was a service always well paid for, and, of the two, rather under than over marked. Though undoubtedly deprived of a trifle of that dignity which has hitherto attended him, the thoroughbred one, as far as living and lodging are concerned, is nearly as well off as ever; while as regards his return for it, he may very reasonably be argued to be better. Look at the race-horse, with all the calls made on him for exertion, the too often over-taxed powers, and the loss of heart or strength, one or the other, that so continually come of the mere tutoring. Look at him the next time he saunters by you, and ask if that, after all, be a "life of wantonness and ease." Then the steeple-chaser, up to strange ways, jumping like a buck, and seeking a bubble reputation e'en at a break-neck place. Mark him again, with all the steam pumped out, and the art of an Oliver vainly employed to get him well home, and say if the next state of that horse be much better than the first. And then the hunter, with his bursts severe, or runs of awful length, full of strong thorns and modern instances of pace, slaving like a nigger as a "servant's horse," or knocked to nine-pins by a first-flight man. We can shift them again if you like one, two, three, as the thimble-riggers had it-flat racing, flag-racing, or hunting have all their concomitant hardships, and perhaps "the higherer you go, the hotterer it is;" while the road-the road as it used to be-gives at once the happy medium of all, and the Elysium on earth of a horse's life. Only consider the lot of any one in such a team as our plate embodies. Never over-paced, never over-worked, never under-fed, and seldom or ever savaged or illused, we can offer no just cause why the thorough-bred one should not settle down to his trot at once. The very term "trot" itself suggests a kind of pleasing eight-mile exercise, with a light hand on him, a level "pike" under him, and patent axles behind him. Indeed, if Mr. Herring does not very quickly show some more decisive sign that "we really are travelling downwards," as Archer says in the play, we shall begin to fancy he has found another tack, and will wind off his hero as an out-pensioner at Hampton-court, or as hack in ordinary to the royal patron of this identical magazine. The road may be number four, or it may be number eight, or it may, perhaps, in the common course of things, be taken as evident symptoms of a decline; but still, in the face of this, the coach-horse, as far as comfort went, stood armed at all points. The well-conditioned tits, as they strolled up the street, were each in himself an advertisement to the office they started from; the merry-going, even-stepping team shone equally as a credit to the artist who pulled them together; and the whole life, in fact, on or off duty, was the epitome of regularity, carefulness, and fair play. It is appearance however, and public opinion, that, after all, we are generally fighting for; and on this item the High-mettled Racer in his present calling might certainly meet with some very dramatic and affecting situations. Conceive the noble lord that hurried over his hundred miles and early dinner to see the Hero go a mile stript, confronting him again in a well-mounted suit of black and yellow, with a staid bearing, a shortened dock, and a well-rounded quarter. Imagine the man who had approached him with respect, and examined his every point with attention, easing his friend "Handsome Jack" for just one stage or so, springing the free-hearted, game-bottomed bunch of 'em every time he had the ghost of a chance, and then proving, |