county of Norfolk, celebrated-by something of an anomaly, according to public opinion just now-as one of the best districts in the kingdom for good farming and game-preserving. Even in this fashionable locality, our brace of dogs soon became remarkable for steadiness, style, and, in fact, every virtue for which the pointer is "generally recommended." So extended, indeed, became their fame, that it reached the ear of a French gentleman of the name of Leguin, living in Picardy, and who, wanting something a little superior, had of course to come to England for it, as every man must do who wishes for a "first-rate article" in the horse or hound market. The bitch he purchased for thirty pounds, while for the dog he made it guineas and now, we hear, all France would not buy them. In addition to their own individual performances, which have been de clared unequalled in the land of their adoption, they have told uncommonly well as a cross with the native French pointer; a slow and steady hunter, whose qualifications have been much improved by a taste of the superior dash and courage of the English breed. As a general rule, we believe it is held that the less a pointer is now crossed out of his own immediate race, the better; the different varieties having been "nicked" to as near perfection as possible. We fancy, however, from the success of this experiment, that breeding from the two acknowledged kinds of the two countries might be fol lowed up more than it is; for, at any rate, the French sportsman would, by his own showing, reap an advantage; and we are not quite so sure but even Mr. Bull, with all the proper pride of his sort, might cross in to a purpose.

"undertake to supply," is after as clever a picture by Mr. Laporte, Our print, which we consider a very fine specimen of what w who has admirably carried out that golden rule for the artist, whenever it can in any way be acted on, of making a good portrait a good picture. It has perhaps stood over rather longer than soaltractive and finished a work should; but then, with our usual tact, we have been waiting for the tide, and so are now enabled to follow suit with as much precision as the veriest old dowager could com

mand, or the safest shot expect.

the safety-valve is not properly attended to. However, to-day it was pronounced "all right." Matters assume quite different complexions when we sleep upon them...

Thus did the Doncaster Meeting of 1848 terminate, rewarding one of the most spirited and legitimate patrons of our great national sport with a triumph he richly merited. . . Alas that it should be written! in a little week to change the olive for the cypress! It would ill beseem him whose office it is to sketch these passing notices to omit, in that on which he is engaged, sad mention of an event which, during the latter days of the past month, moved the sorrow and the sympathy of men of all classes and communities in this kingdom. Not, indeed, that his humble tribute may measure as the widow's mite in the memorial of one who died full of honour and observance, but that this page-its modest meed of gratitude and reverence

"Stealing and giving odour"-

may register, in all respect, a name destined to live eminent among the good and gracious of its time-that of WILLIAM GEORGE FREDERIC CAVENDISH BENTINCK.

NEWMARKET FIRST OCTOBER MEETING.

66 a star,'

Those who have been so long accustomed to the " beggarly account” of the first three days of autumnal racing in Cambridgeshire must have seen with considerable gratification the preparations made in the Calendar for the recent anniversary of that ilk. But malgré the promise of sport, the meeting set in with a triste foreboding. The weather was dull, and so had been the Doncaster "settling"-phase of evil augury! --and so was the hope of such as still anointed their disappointments with that "flattering unction." We will, therefore, discharge our office with as little suspense as possible. It was on Tuesday, the 26th ult., that this sporting affair was put upon the scene. With Surplice as the performance was full of attraction, though it did not " draw." Vertvert opened, running a match with Bedouin, and then Surplice beat Flatcatcher for the Grand Duke Michael. I was glad to see James Robinson on the winner, thus making by-gones by-gones, and the devil go with them when their presence begets bad blood. It was run a match between the pair. The 20 sovs. Handicap brought out half-ascore, Peladin winning-a suit followed by Paquita in her match with Banshee. The Hopeful, with its thirty subscribers, gave us another field of ten, and showed that Mr. Payne's mare was appropriately named for this stake. Glauca, with her penalty of 61b., made her own running, and won easily by a length. St. Ann walked over for the match with Woodcraft; and the Post Sweepstakes, of 500 sovs. each -all the money-brought of course one champion to the post from the three stables engaged. As no one else has taken the trouble to say at what age this stake was run for, it may be observed here that the animals are two years old. Escalade won in a canter; a filly very heavily engaged. In the Buckenham Stakes of 300 sovs. each, Col. Peel received from Lord Exeter; Lord George Bentinck's nominations being of course void-among them the own brother to Surplice. A

10 sovs. Sweepstakes, for all ages, Don't-say-No won; and Isis having paid in the match with Brocardo, the sporting list was run out.

WEDNESDAY'S chief feature was the St. Leger-being the best as to pedigree. It was run a match between Sotterby and Dover; the former winning in a canter. Previous to this, Railery cantered over for a 15 Sovs. Sweepstakes, 10 ft., for two-year-olds; and Wanota won a 20 sovs. Handicap-beating three others-in a very close shave with Ducan-Durras. The Granby brought out seven of its dozen nominations, with 7 to 4 on Farthingale. The favourite won, but only by a neck, when close at home. The 50 sovs. Plate-Ditch-in-a field of five, Diplomatist won on the post by a head; the second being Tufthunter. And four matches having paid, or compromised, the list closed. For the first time, I had almost forgotten to observe, the new inclosed betting-ring was brought into operation. I say no more about it for the present, as the attempt to separate the black sheep from the pure fleecers was but an experiment. Thursday, albeit most unpropitious for out-of-door amusement, was full of interest in the matter of sport. The Rutland Stakes His Grace of that ilk won, with Nina, beating four in a canter; and a five sov. Sweepstakes, for all ages, Blackcock carried off from seven competitors with all ease. Lord Stanley's Strongbow having defeated St. Ann in a match for 100 sovs, the First Triennial Produce Stakes, 126 subscribers, brought eighteen to the post. They took 11 to 10 about Tadmor, a clever winner by a length; the second, The Highland Fling, and Elthiron third. Soon afterwards they offered to take 7 to 1 about the winner for the Derby, so that the winter won't lack matter for speculation; but where is the capital to come from, much less the credit? The Queen's Plate Jericho won in a canter by lots of lengths, beating a brace; and Tadmor then beat another brace in a canter for the 50 sovs. Sweepstakes for two year olds. A Sweepstakes of 100 sovs. each, for three year olds, Flatcatcher, with 2 to 1 on him, won from the Fiddler easily; and Mr. Green's Swiss Boy having won the Town Plate of £50, beating a couple of others by a distance or so, the list was run out. The racing on Friday-for there are four days to this First October-was neither brilliant, nor celebrated under favourable auspices. But it bespoke a spirit worthy the place and its patrons and in reference to coming events cast good hopes around the future.

AN OPEN SHOT.

ENGRAVED BY J. WESTLEY, FROM A PAINTING BY G. ARMFIELD.

The art of shooting flying, like the art of flying your fences over a country, is one of the main signs and excellences of true sport. How many a London lounger, who could ring the bell at a shooting gallery ten times in succession, would lose his fame and his bird with the first that was sprung before him! The cool calculation of the knowing man would fail when all at once introduced to the more exciting scene of a sportsman's life; and while with Jem the shepherd-boy, who carries the stock of his gun in one pocket and the barrel in the other, the open shot would quickly be recorded a dead one, we should back friend pheasant for a longer life under the mercies of this London particular.

Still, with sport in its infancy, few ever set their ambition so high as to attempt anything so hazardous as stopping a bird when once on the wing. The slow and safe system, that taught our forefathers to creep their fences and ford their brooks, reconciled them to murdering puss in her form, to netting their game, or-horribile dictu-to shooting them sitting. The gradual advance from this state of comparative barbarism is well marked in the following passage from Fielding, seasoned, of course, with all that severe satire the novelist of former times called to his aid when engaged upon anything of a sportsman's character :My brother now, at the age of fifteen, bade adieu to all learning, and to everything else but to his dogs and gun, with which latter he became so expert, that, though perhaps you may think it incredible, he could not only hit a standing mark with great certainty, but hath actually shot a crow as it was flying in the air.

Now, however, when the wonder would be rather to miss than hit, the open shot may be classed in contradistinction to the snap shot, and both well illustrated by "the whirring pheasant" before us. If you are an over-anxious, "first-chop"-at-everything man, you may go into the cover at once, and blaze away at each successive proclamation of "Cock!" from the six-foot keeper, doing terrible execution, no doubt, to both pheasants and fir-apples, who fall in crowds before the unerring certainty of your hand and eye. On the other hand, if you prefer taking it more easily, keep out of bounds, as the pigeon-trappers would word it, and go in at the stray birds as they break now and then from the cover. The sharp-shooters are "bound" to run over some; and here's old Flora, by Jupiter! working away at one that has been lying as close as a Chartist, despite all the row they have been making round him. Hist! gently! and out he sails like a seventy-four, with as game a challenge for all the art you own to as ever unhappy man could dare to hope for.

Down he must come; for recollect that, while every kill with the snap shot is a credit, every miss with the open one is a disgrace. Crack! and down he comes according-ly.