OCTOBER FOR ME.

Bright Summer is past, and brown Autumn succeeds;
No longer the corn-craike is heard in the meads;
All cut and well-stacked in the yard is the corn,
And again the blyth hunter is winding his horn;
Grouse are wild now, and partridges strong on the wing,
And bold in the forest the cock-pheasants spring.

With his gun on his arm, and with step firm and free,
The sportsman is roaming o'er moorland and lea;
He brings down the grouse on the heath-covered fell,
The pheasant he marks in the low woody dell;
For partridges, stubble and turnips he tries,
And down falls a brace should a covey but rise.

Though the morning now often is misty and chill,
And the dew-drops lie long both in vale and on hill;
Though the sun rises later and sooner declines,
His beam is more welcome at noon when he shines;
And in Autumn the calm stilly close of the day
Is as sweet as the dawn in the first flush of May.

No holiday sportsmen are now on the hill,

To frighten the game they in vain try to kill;

Wild indeed are the grouse, but the packs now are large-
Then your best gun employ,—No. 2 be the charge;
Let your setters be staunch, and with caution proceed;-
Who now fills his bag is a sportsman indeed.

October! October! October for me!

That there's nought like its ale every man will agree
For shooting, no month in the year half so good,
On moorland, in stubble, in marsh, mead, or wood :
We've partridge and pheasant, with wild ducks in store,
Grouse, wood-cock, and snipe, and a dozen kinds more.

By the way of just bringing my stave to an end,
I've a toast to propose-brother Sportsmen, attend:

Here's "The Pleasures of Shooting !"-Now, off with your wine,
And then for a volley of cheers-nine times nine !—
With a well-sounding chorus whose burden shall be,
"October! October! October for me!"

S. O.

Racing.

ST. OMER AND BOULOGNE RACES.

By Nimrod.

IT is wisely ordained that our earthly pleasures should be enjoyed, partly, in anticipation, which often exceeds the reality. Still in proportion as our expectations are raised, is the disappointment in the nonfulfilment of them. We may apply these truisms to the late St. Omer and Boulogne races-particularly to the latter, after the sumptuous bill of fare announced. Although I dislike being the chronicler of untoward events, I am compelled to say, both these meetings were, this year, complete failures, and I shall presently state what I consider to have been the chief causes of rendering them so. In the mean time, I will give a brief sketch of the proceedings on the course, &c., commencing at St. Omer.

The ball opened with the most absurd act that can be committed upon a race course-a trotting match. I say "absurd," because the excitement of a crowd, music, &c., puts-as was the case here-the chance of a nervous, or even a highly spirited horse, entirely out of the question. Again, these same animals were afterwards to dispute the honours of the day in a gallop, of which I can only say that something of the canine species, bearing a resemblance to a sheep-dog, started with the high mettled racers, and came in first. The winner was at grass, which may account for this, and serve for another climax. To make some amends, however, she was ridden by a count.

The next event of the day was one of a different description, and showed that the only country under the sun, at the present day, in which racing is generally understood is our own. A mare called Miss Camarine, the property of Carter, trainer to Lord Henry Seymour, ridden by one of his lordship's stable boys, and the Prince of Moskowa's Zitella, ridden by a second or third rate Irish jockey, made one of the finest races for the first heat I ever saw on any course. It was a truly, and honestly-run race from end to end, and only won by Camarine by about half a length. The second heat was also won by her somewhat easier, but still a fine race. This was for the gold cup, and the finish for the day, which was hot, but fine, and the attendance on the course very good indeed quite as many carriages and horseman are to be seen at Egham.

The second day produced nothing but disasters, in the first part of it. Soon after our arrival on the course, we were visited with a most

awful thunder storm, which completely deluged the course, before the sport began-if sport it could be called. Such as it was, however, it commenced with the production of two rips, for the Pas de Calais stakes, which I had occasion to notice last year-called Front de Bœuf, ridden by a Scotch lad in the service of Mr. M'Kenzie Grieve, and the mis-named Cœur de Lion, (Mr. Benson's), ridden by Lord Seymour's stable boy, Jennings. The upshot was this. Front de Boeuf-as I predicted to Captain Gronow, before I started them, bolted, and the Lion fell, but having "time allowed him," as we say on the road, by the other brute running out of the course, he cantered in first. Next came the Ladies' Plate, called in the programme, 1520 frs., because it was of that amount last year, but I was requested to inform the respective trainers, before starting, that this year it was only 1107. It was contested for, at least, run for, by Miss Camarine, and the Prince of Moskowa's Lady Albert, who nearly distanced her competitor the first heat, and she was drawn for the second, as not having a chance! It must be observed, they were both of a year, but Camarine carried 7lb. for winning.-The Prince Royal's prize, value 500 frs., 100 frs. entrance, was walked over for, by the Prince of Moskowa's filly, Zerlinda, by Rowlston, out of Hebe, 3 yrs. old.

A circumstance occurred this day, which I do not wish to pass over. A gentleman, to whom I was quite a stranger, overheard my telling the Prince's trainer, that I feared I might not be in time at St. Omer, to comply with his request to inform the Prince of his success, as the carriage I had come with to the course, had gone away without me, in consequence of my being detained as judge of the races. Upon this, he immediately dismounted, and insisted on my riding his mare, which I did, for he would take no denial. I am sorry I cannot at this moment recollect the name of my benefactor, for the act of walking three miles, through heat and wet, to oblige a stranger, is not an every day one.

We sat down, thirty-five in number, at the stewards' dinner, this day, at the Ancienne Poste, the chief of whom were French, for I am sorry to have to observe, that very few of the English amateurs residing at Boulogne attended these races; none in fact until the second day, when they returned straight from the course, with the exception of the Count D'Hennisdal, Captain Gronow, and Mr. Benson. The dinner was of the best quality, surprisingly so, considering it was only ordered the preceding day-consisting indeed of every delicacy of the season, and out of season, for there was abundance of game as well as chevreil. But, you know, it is "toujours perdrix" in la belle France, and whether it is the 17th of August, or the 17th of September, n' importe.

There was, this year, at St. Omer, an intervening day between the two devoted to racing, which I consider to be a bad arrangement. There

was something said of a carousal on the course this day, or some such childish amusement, which I did not think worthy of my notice, therefore employed a vacant hour in inspecting the pipe manufactory of Monsieur Feoli, which is one of the largest in France. Indeed, some idea may formed of its extent when I state, that twelve dozen gross of pipes are made within its walls every day. M. Feoli, it is said, is rapidly making a fortune, which I was told he is very deserving of. He had a very

be

neat equipage on the course; but I was amused at hearing that his reason for one of his horses not being fit for a hunter was, that he had given 3000 frs. for him-in other words, that he was too good to be made a hunter of.

I now quit the subject of St. Omer races, and regret that I cannot give a more favourable account of them, being convinced that every thing was done by the resident noblemen and gentlemen of this ancient and respectable town, to render them satisfactory to the public. The cause of their failure, I shall hereafter endeavour to point out.

Were it not for the hurdle race, which was by far the best I ever saw, I should have nothing to say of the first day's racing at Boulogne, the two other prizes having been walked over for. I must, however, observe, that the new course more than equalled the representations of it; and it is the best adapted for a hurdle race of any I have ever seen. There are a few parts where the surface requires to be made more level, and then it will be complete. I must also express my admiration of the horsemanship of the three gentlemen who rode the hurdle-race, viz:— Mr. Carter, who rode the winner, (Col. Rowley's horse ;) that out-andouter over a country, Mr. Mackenzie Grieve; and Mr. Simmonds, nephew to that good old sportsman, Mr. Black wall Simmonds, of Reading, who has so long been a leading man with Sir John Cope's hounds. There was no upsetting of their horses, although the pace was very good; no baulking, nor refusing; neither did I see one hurdle touched. In fact, it was a beautiful race, and the Scotchman would have won the second heat, as he did the first, had not the sine qua non, condition, been wanting.

The second day was to have been the grand affair, being what is called the cup day. It opened with another, but, let me hope, the last, appearance of those miserable sons of Pegasus, Front de Boeuf and the Lion; but as John Mizen was put on the former, and held him as if in a vice, he was obliged to go straight, and it was no race at all, for he won very easily. The Prince of Moskowa's Rowlston filly, had another walk for the Jockey-Club Stakes, to which his highness himself had added 500 frs.; and the gold cup value 3000 frs., was won at two heats, by Miss Camarine, beating the Prince's Lady Albert, and a half-bred horse, called Longlaw.

There was a good display of company on the course this day, which was

a splendid one for the purpose. One hundred carriages paid to come on the ground, those with two horses, 5 frs., and those with one, 4 frs.; and on the other two days, about one hundred and fifty carriages paid, besides horsemen, who paid 2 frs. each; the proceeds going towards the expenses incurred; and I must say, the money has been very judiciously laid out.

The third day bore the appearance of a blank, for it rained in torrents until mid-day, when people began to congregate, and there were about seventy carriages on the ground. The sport, however, was very so-so. The hurdle-race was again won very easily by Col. Rowley's horse, ridden by Mr. Carter, and he was purchased by Mr. Grieve, who has sent him to Scotland, to treat him with a view of Berwickshire and Lord Elcho's hounds. There was a handicap, as also a hack race, both won by Wassailer, by Reveller, ridden very well by Mr. Parker. In the handicap, two aged horses gave Front de Bœuf about 20lb., but he could not make a race with them. In the hack stakes, a French gentleman got a harmless fall, which was the only accident that occurred during the meetings.

In my mention of the race this day, for the Ladies' Plate, I must be a little more diffuse, because a circumstance occurred, which caused a little stir amongst the amateurs and others. There were entered for this race, Miss Camarine, with 7lbs. extra, as winner of the Gold Cup, and Zitella. In consequence, however, of the 7lbs. appearing to tell so much on Camarine, at St. Omer, in her race with Lady Albert,-who is not accounted so good as Zitella,-and Zitella coming out fresh, something like a race was expected, and the betting only 6 to 4 on the former, with very few takers. During the first heat, I was situated about half way within the distance, in conversation with Sir Alexander Ramsay-a well known judge of racing,-Colonel Berrington and others, when the two mares passed me in this form-Camarine leading, by about three lengths, and Zitella following in her wake, pulling very hard, to appearance, her mouth being open, and neither foot nor hand of her jockey stirring. Guess my surprise then, when on meeting the said jockey, as soon as he had weighed, I was addressed by him thus :-"Sure, sir, it is no use my saddling again, for I have no chance to win." "What!" said I, "why I thought you did not run for the heat." On his assuring me he did, I said no more to him. In a few minutes, however, I was addressed by a gentleman, who, though not one of the stewards, had kindly undertaken the forming the course, and all the arrangements of the meeting, and asked, if I had any objection to Mr. Gale riding Zitella the next heat. My answer was, "certainly not, if her trainer wishes it." Horlock her trainer did wish it, and on my suggesting the propriety of obtaining the acquiescence of Count D'Hinnisdal, an intimate friend of the Prince, who not only acquiesced but said he would write to the Prince on the