BY A GENTLEMAN WHO PUT HIS MONEY UPON MUSJID.

A LOVELY day, with just enough uncertainty about the weather to interest without frightening one. We started at 9:35, which was only five minutes after the appointed time, in a capital trap, with an excellent postilion. Party was to consist of myself, and five friends, namely, BARNACLES, GRACECHURCH, PRETTYBOY, TOM BARNACLES, and CHARLEY VALE, but some humbugging law business kept PRETTYBOY in town, and he joined us on the course, which was for the best, as it materially lightened the vehicle, and moreover, he brought us the latest telegraph of the War. A very pleasant journey down, GRACECHURCH'S cigars first class, and I think I never saw so many pretty girls at the doors and windows. The road was exceedingly full, but not inconveniently so; time was no particular object with us, and on a Derby day all wise folks keep their temper. Some of the stoppages were amusing enough, and everybody was in high spirits, from the handsome swells in moustaches and white coats, on their lofty drags, to the merry costermonger with his laughing wife and crowing baby in the little cart. We laughed a great deal, and I said some things which, if not witty, were meant to amuse, and did; and BARNACLES gave some capital good-natured chaff, especially to the girls. At one place we had a great shout, TOM BARNACLES saying that one of LORD MALMESBURY'S model attachés had been at work, and pointing to a little house on which was written up "TEA MADE HEAR." Afterwards, BARNACLES père, shouting in vain to Tom, who was on the box, with some remark, said "I wish that T could be made hear," which we agreed was very neat. At the Cock, at Sutton, we pulled up by the roadside, and wetted the horses' mouths, and as it is good to have sympathy with dumb animals, we also wetted our own. Some hock and seltzer, washing down some prime sandwiches of pressed beef, set us up for the rest of the journey. We bought lots of "correct cards," not because we wanted them, but the poor vendors looked so eager, and it is their one day of luck, poor creatures. The fresh wind was delicious as we got on the Downs, and we secured an excellent place for the carriage, opposite the Grand Stand. Here PRETTYBOY joined us, having come down by rail, and gave us some hints about the race, which were invaluable, and which he had obtained from first rate authority. He told us that Musjid was to win, and no mistake, and when SIR JOSEPH, WELLS, and a horse like Musjid unite in a resolve to win the Derby, it is a very likely thing to be done. So I betted accordingly, in a good many places. We strolled about, met all sorts of people we knew, who all seemed as jolly as sand-boys, relieved a few beggars, knocked down a few pin-cushions and jointed dolls, for the children of such of us as have any, and amused ourselves with a sweepstakes. TOM BARNACLES and I got rather hungry, but as the others preferred waiting longer, we would not hear of touching the hampers, but had another sandwich or two, and a glass of sherry. The first race was really a very good one, and I happened to draw the winner, Orchehill, ridden by a jockey in white, whereby I pocketed sundry half-crowns, of which my youngsters will have the benefit. Then came the Derby. The sun shone brightly, and the crowd, which was immense-I never saw so many people was a stupendous sight. The race was one of the best that ever was run, and at the finish the sight was superb, so close did the splendid animals keep. But PRETTYBOY proved a true prophet, and Musjid won famously. I calculate that I have made about three hundred pounds, which will buy LAURA a new piano-forte, and leave a handsome balance for the autumn trip. Then we dined, and admirably well had TOM BARNACLES catered, the meat pie, lobsters, and salad being particularly noteworthy. He had forgotten nothing, a lump of ice as big as a coal-scuttle kept everything deliciously cool, and we mopped up a precious lot of first rate champagne, to say nothing of hock and seltzer, and other neat things in the libation line, as CHARLEY classically called them. A good many good fellows came up and had drinks, and we chaffed like fun, asking TOMKINS, the prosperous Old Bailey barrister, whether he had laid on Highwayman, Ticket-of-Leave, or Gallus, and on SAM BIGGINS saying he had drawn Polonius, presenting him with a cold sausage on account. In fact we smoked, drank, and joked till we could get away, which our postilion, who had kept sober, like a good fellow, managed admirably, with the aid of BARNACLES' invaluable servant, HAYDON (who was indefatigable in taking care of us), and we all came off to town, rattling along merrily when we could, and taking it easy when we could not. Of course we had lots of jokes from other vehicles, but all were in good temper, and I was really delighted to see so many thousands, especially of the humbler classes, enjoying themselves. We got to town in extremely good time, and went to PRETTYBOY'S house, where we had some anchovy toast and a quiet weed, and home early. My wife was delighted that I had enjoyed myself, and upon my word, I don't know that next year I shan't see whether I can't manage to let her see the race, just for once. A very good night followed a delightful Derby Day.

BY A GENTLEMAN WHO PUT HIS MONEY UPON
THE PROMISED LAND.

I SAID I'd never go to the Derby again, but like an ass, I let myself be persuaded by old SYKES, BLOBBER, and MEALYBUGG to join them in a carriage this time. We were to meet at 9, but of course I was kept kicking my heels at the club till near 10, and when BLOBBER came, he had his ass of a brother JIM with him, who, he said, poor fellow, could go on the box,—he seldom got a holiday, poor chap. A seedy looking snob, with black gloves, and a sycophant smirk on his hungry face; I should like to know why I am to pay for taking him to Epsom, and giving him grub, which he ate, too, as though he seldom got a dinner any more than a holiday. We got away at last, and SYKES and MEALYBUGG began smoking directly, though they know I hate smoke in the morning. So I made MASTER JIM BLOBBER get inside, instead of me, and I had the pleasure of seeing that he looked precious sick with the smoke, but BLOBBER could say nothing, as MASTER JIMMY went gratis. Of course, as we were late, the road was crowded, and the fellows in vans and carts were as insolent as ever, delighting in seeing their betters annoyed, and making the same stupid coarse jokes as usual. Some of the women were as bad, but I flatter myself I stopped one woman's impertinence. She had brought a young child (the idiots drag their brats everywhere) and I told her that if any accident happened to it, I should be sorry to be in her shoes. Didn't she turn white? MEALYBUGG and the others made a great noise in the carriage, with laughing and joking in their loud way, but I heard nothing that wasn't as old as the hills, or else the most ridiculous nonsense, and SYKES made a downright ass of himself, smiling and bowing to the females as we went by. The women, by the way, get uglier and more foolish every year, and I should like to know what right a person has to speak to me, merely because I am travelling the same road. We got to Sutton after the most dawdling journey I ever knew, and then the other fellows must stop to get beer, instead of waiting till we got to the Downs. Here I gave a beggar, who would not take an answer, in charge to a policeman, but I saw the scoundrel let her go as soon as we were off, and I wish I had taken his number. The delay in town of course got us a bad place by the course, and we were near some chaps whom BLOBBER knew, and took on himself to introduce, and that created more row and affected good fellowship. I did not talk to them, but they seemed to me to be snobs, though SYKES, like a booby, asked some of them to his house. MEALYBUGG wanted to put off dinner till after the Derby, but I was not inclined to be dictated to, and I insisted on having mine after the Bentinck, and those who didn't like it then, could take it when they did. However, they were obliged to give way, and as the first race was not worth seeing, I soon got to work. The other fellows all praised the commissariat, just because SYKES had taken it in hand, but it was anything but what it ought to have been at the price we were to pay, and the sherry was simply beastly. Not a bit of fruit, not a drop of liqueur, (except brandy, which I hate) and the fools had forgotten mint-sauce to the lamb. No wine-glasses, we had to drink out of large or small tumblers. However, it was no good my saying anything when the others had resolved that all was right, so I held my tongue and watched MR. JIM BLOBBER eating at my expense. SYKES told me to back Musjid, but he always pretends to know such a deal more than anybody else, and I was disgusted, and besides I had heard that the Land was safe. He lost, having been abominably ridden, and being a much better horse than any that came in before him. I have lost about a hundred and thirty pounds, so there will be no parties this year, MRS. GRUNTERBY, and it will be a case of Gravesend instead of Belgium, I can tell you. I wouldn't let the other fellows see I was savage, but I tried to make them come away. Not a bit, they would stay till the last race, and then our chaps were at least an hour before they got the horses to. The road was even more abominable than in the morning, and we were exposed to all the insults of the ruffians in vans and carts and omnibuses, who were perpetually flinging things at us, and annoying us (or at least me, for it just suited the others) with vulgar remarks, coarse laughter, and beastly shouting and yelling all the way up. Some of them came to grief, which I was glad of, as such people have no business aping their betters, and insulting them into the bargain. I believe the postilion was drunk, like everybody else, man, woman, and child; but we got to town with no broken bones. The others wanted to dismiss the man and the horses, and go somewhere for a glass of grog, but no thank you. I'd had enough of my company. I made him take me from the Strand to Haverstock Hill, as being taken home was in my bargain, and I chose to have it. Had a jolly good row with MRS. G., who thought I might have taken her," and swore I would never go to the Derby again as long as I live. Couldn't get to sleep for indigestion; but at last had a comforting dream that old SYKES had been riding Musjid, and was to be hanged for breaking the beast's knees. The only pleasant thing in twenty-four hours!

A LETTER in the Pays represents a portion of the French army in Italy as a questionable race of beings. Describing some amateur theatricals got up by some of the men, it says that

"Some of our Zouaves were lodged in a barn which the inhabitants had converted into a theatre for a strolling company, and there still remained a stage, a curtain, scenery and foot-lights.. In the evening the theatre was crowded, and the performances were charmingly varied; namely, a vaudeville, a pantomime, a ballet, and singing. For my own part I laughed till tears fell from my eyes at the ballet, which was executed by a dozen Zouaves who were attired like the dancing-girls of the opera."

On the eve of highly probable battle, and consequent departure from this life, beings capable of dancing with the gaiety evinced by these Frenchmen, must be either much more or much less than common men. Either they must have been endowed with a fortitude and courage capable of contemplating any amount of bodily suffering, and of meeting death with indifference, in addition to enjoying a conscience entirely at ease as to their ultimate destination; or they must have been incapable of forethought, and destitute of rational souls. On the former supposition, they were saints and philosophers: on the latter, apes. Their countryman who witnessed and described the performance was himself clearly a philosopher-a double sage: DEMOCRITUS and HERACLITUS in one. The sight of it occasioned him both to laugh and weep. He naturally laughed-though he might more naturally have hissed-at seeing the heroes display their pas, "attired like the dancinggirls of the opera." He more naturally wept, perhaps, to think how soon shot or shell might shatter the athletic frames enclosed in corset and petticoats, and spoil the manly limbs attired in pink fleshings and decorated with white satin shoes. He deserves credit alike for his laughter and his tears.

THE Van, the Van! the hurrying Van!
Terror alike of beast and man;
With awful rush and roaring sound
It thunders merrily over the ground.
It smashes the cabs, it crushes the flies,
Before it in ruin the tax-cart lies.
I'm on the Van, I'm on the Van!
Let people get out of the way who can.

Jolly the day when the Van was born,
In the noddle of PICKFORD, or CHAPLIN and
HORNE;

Says they, "The people denounce as slow
The waggons so huge from our yards that go.

IF the French and Austrians are at open warfare, the same can be said of their telegrams. It would be difficult to say which lines have warred with each other the most, or which side has charged the opposite one with the greatest ferocity? Certainly, the telegraph can boast of a far greater number of killed and wounded. One shock of electricity would seem to destroy more than a whole day's cannonading. The needle picks off more persons than the bayonet. By its irresistible agency, a whole army has been known to be destroyed in a minute. Why don't the French and Austrians fight their murderous engagements in the telegraph office, instead of on the battle-field? It would be a great economy, though we are perfectly aware that no general, when he is drawing up a victorious bulletin, is particular to a few thousands or so.

A Fact worth Knowing.

COUNT GYULAI, in one of his reports, writes to say of a splendid infantry regiment, which formerly bore the name of "Wellington:"

As a consequence of its heroic conduct at DeutschWagram, in 1809, it has the privilege of beating the Grenadier's March.""

Which of the Austrian regiments, we should like to know, has the privilege of beating the "Rogues' March?" Or, better still, is there any particular corps that can boast of the unusual privilege of beating the enemy? If such a singular regiment does exist, we are afraid it has not yet been seen on the field of battle.