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The reign of the galloway is of far shorter duration than was that of the pony; for as the snowball accumulates far more visibly in its increased form than it did in its incipient state, so the ideas enlarge in a manifold degree as practice brings them into constant play. The young sportsman has on his well-bred galloway attempted, and in many cases succeeded, in disputing the leading place with men : he now longs to meet them on fair terms, “hot horse to horse," and next season sees him mounted in a way that tempts him to try to wrest the palm from those who long have shone as leaders of the van. He no longer owes attention to his being the son of aristocracy, but he owns it as a tribute due to“ bearding the lion in his den;" and though nothing disgusts more than presumption in youth, cynical must be the feelings of him who does not allow in the boy that “he does greatly who dares greatly.” It is not usually one of baser stock who does this; there must be high blood somewhere in him who does it, and shows himn of a sort of which his country may well be proud.

Various are the changes in the mind and ideas of man as he advances from boyhood to age, and each state of mind no doubt proper for the period of life at which it is felt. We are not to expect in the young hunter the real sportsman. Excitement, show, and fun he likes. About real hunting he cares not a jot. He wishes hounds to go, and his horse to go-this, only that he, as the rider, may go. As to hounds and hunting, whether he followed a pack of high-bred foxhounds---level as a dye to look at, and perfect in their performance --or whether it was a pack of bob-tailed larchers, of all sorts and sizes, running riot all day long, provided they did run and run fast, if they give him the means of showing off, his end is answered; nor let older sportsmen find fault--we all did pretty much the same as youths. The being to be pitied, or sneered at, is not the one to be excited by anything; but the one that not anything can excite-from him we have nothing to hope: the material is wanting--and from nothing comes nothing

Men after a few seasons ride, but do not talk. The young'un will talk as well as ride. Well, if he do, a good-humoured smile is the only consequence of it, from a moderately good-humoured man: he smiles at the little harmless pretension; and if beat by the young Tyro, he gives him full credit for the victory, and fairly admits there was no pretension in that.

The young one now would no more be heard to use a term not strictly technical, than would the very young coachman use the term reins, as applied to harness: he knows of nothing but “the ribbons." So our yonng hunter talks of everything connected with hunting in strict technical phrase. He never rides his horse at a fence-he “ crams" at this, “rattles" him at that, and “faces " another thing. He never gets a fall, but laughs at a “burster," or regular crowner, and by something bordering on slang, fancies he gets credit for being a “trump," and down as a hammer !"

- Half-a-dozen seasons teach him better things. He is now the companion of men, and he finds the demeanour and language that were the admiration and envy of his fellow-youths would only subject him to contempt at an age when inexperience no longer causes his youtli

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Tara med guin winst I believe ao be in this commercial Barte zading met die acts of its inhabitants, vanity M. SHE SWB, The latter izing begins in childhood; the formes in a sih mmhood, ani spreads its baseful groei til ml chidonut FRISS Fry actre feeling of the human

: venit in and basse sia where the arden: lore of field sports
actuals the USUS É ME, the shist for gan finds a less genial soil
that is II die laass of shose who have no such enthusiasm to
ciret. ter tentim from the common idol so worshipped by the
milim. But the relies of ruity is more or less inherent in man,
SALE, Mis in differat rays. The sportsman has his

.
The sit young sind a sporting stock is first placed on the
janis & vie pur, Fi dhe suporting arm of an attendant for the
SLEET & the mis busenm, she noreley of the motion and situation
sche ani circunstance shat eines pleasurable sensations in the
youngser's ixings. The novels warn E, pride or sanity begins
a assume iis sees, and he feels linsei superior to those who have
ne måt such esses. The fox of rent of firmness of seat,
and he par's action and wil, having been got over, then comes
the lose et subjegation-su rite in the human mind. And to be
trasted unbeld, and the prey ruled, is the best step that ranity
segrets. This gained, and all apprebension subsided

, the love of
per tyrazy takes the place of the first feelings of pleasure and
grafication: and the ranity of showing be dare correct, or rather,
tyrannie, creates a greater pleasure in the boy's mind than any
pleasure he has yet enjoyed. The feeling borders on the diabolic

,
Te mest allow; but it is candour compels us to admit

, comman
in man, and all but universal in boys. This indulged in, the boy
begins to despise the docile animal that has perhaps for three or four
years contributed to the young tyrant's pleasure, and patiently borne
bis injustice. A galloway is asked for; and joining the bounds is
the next step that a wish for display and excitement suggests; and
unless a fear of danger to the boy orercomes the desire to indulge,
the galloway is got, and the younker, in semi-hunting costume, makes
his appearance in the field. Should be be the son of some influential
man, he is noticed by all, and praised by most: hence the fins
feelings of self-importance are generated; and it will depends
whether after-sense map keep them within bounds, or a weal mind
suffer them to stry with his strength, that he becomes respected

is Mortiot

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The reign of the galloway is of far shorter duration than was that of the poray; for as the snowball accumulates far more visibly in its increased form than it did in its incipient state, so the ideas enlarge in a manifold degree as practice brings them into constant play. The young sportsman has on his well-bred galloway attempted, and in many cases succeeded, in disputing the leading place with men : he now longs to meet them on fair terms, “ hot borse to horse," and next season sees him mounted in a way that tempts him to try 10 wrest the palm from those who long have shone as leaders of the van. He no longer owes attention to his beiog the son of aristocracy, but he owns it as a tribute due to “ bearding the hot in uit diez and though nothing disgusts more than preses poon 11 Tout.. meal must be the feelings of him who does not awache DLT UK - 11€ does greatly who dares greatly.” It is not is. D 120 who does this; there mast be high blood sosewivan u um 5-10 does it, and shows himn of a sort of which his country met wel » proud.

Various are the changes in the mind and ideas of man is if it vances from boyhood to age, and each state of mind no doubt une for the period of life at which it is felt. We are not to expect in die young hunter the real sportsman. Excitement, show, and finir likes. About real hunting he cares not a jot. He wishes haunts to go, and his horse to go—this, only that he, as the rider, may m. As to hounds and hunting, whether he followed a pack of highfoxhounds—level us a dye to look at, and perfect in their performimes -or whether it was a pack of bob-tailed lurchers, of all sorts and see, running riot all day long, provided they did run and run fast, die give him the means of showing off, bis end is answered; nor let sportsmen find fault--we all did pretty mueh the same as pontas. The being to be pitied, or sneered at, is not the one to be exerted in anything; but the one that not anything can excite—from him ne have nothing to hope: the material is wanting-and from polise comes nothing.

Men after a few seasons ride, but do not talk. The young en will talk as well as ride. Well, if he do, a good-humoured smile is the only consequence of it, from a moderately good-humoured man be smiles at the little harmless pretension; and if beat by the young Tyro, he gives him full credit for the victory, and fairly as the was no pretension in that.

young one now would no more be heard to use a ter 10 strictly technical, than would the very young coachman use these reins, as applied to harness: he knows of nothing but the ribares: So our yon ng hunter talks of everything comecies lig kriet technical phrase. He never rides lús horse ata teepee

Crams" at this, " rattles" him at that, and faces and entlang He never gets a fall, but laughs at a "burster," on regulasterom md by something bordering on slang, fancies de gel seedet for bang

and down as a hammer"

a teach him better tilings. He is so tire -ds the demeanour and lange legt were Slow-youts would ontsertbeat in

toe no longer ass is youth

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ful follies to be excused as the puny rage or boisterous excitement of the child. He now becomes to use his own language-what he only before fancied himself-a trump. He is mild and gentlemanly in the field ; takes his place without affectation, and keeps it without apparent presumption; heads the van sorely against the will of boasting pretenders; beats them, they cannot tell why, nor does he trouble himself to tell them how. He makes himself acquainted with the hounds--not as yet, perhaps, from any of those feelings that actuate the M. F. H., but to learn what hounds he may trust to as a guidance to his own acts in the chase. He knows enough of game, hounds, horses, and country, to shape his course in accordance with his knowledge of each. He is a fine rider, welcomed by all because never subjecting himself to reproof from any.

At middle age, another change has taken place in the sportsman. He is now seen interesting himself in the hounds; knows them all more or less, and discusses their beauties and merits with master and huntsman: he is as fine a horseman as ever, but a far better sportsman: he somewhat piques himself on his knowledge of hounds and hunting; and enjoys a run where bounds show themselves to advan, tage--more on that account than for the mere riding. He has become careless of the show, once his great idol : he now piques himself on getting, by his experience in horses, real clippers that can give the go-by to such as have been bought with a view of gratifying the vanity of their purchasers by their imposing appearance. lle would boast of having got a horse for £50; while younger men boast of having given £250. The matured man is proud of his judgment; the younger one of his purse and his horse's appearance. Each has his vanity, but in a different way. The older sportsman will take a stiff gate with as little hesitation as ever he did, rather than lose bis place. The only difference is, he wonid not take it for a show off : the other would-and quite right in both. The d-1 in him, that made him wish to find a gate locked at twenty, induces him to take it at fifty, if absolutely necessary. He has the nerve, the will, and the vigour to do all on horseback the other can do; but he will only do it to please himself: the young one does it to gain celebrity among others.

But age-slow coach, as we hold him-gets over the ground at a pace that overtakes the fastest of the fast. Our puer may give him a long chace--and its length varies in accordance with the stamina and determination of whom he parsnes. Crushing falls, old bruises, and sore bones will in time tell their tale; and the love of hunting with many men remains long after the love of riding has ceased. The nerve may not be equal to the wide brook, but the spirit may be excited by the sight or cry of bounds long after infirmity may only enable the old sportsman, by his knowledge of hunting and the country, to see the clase he no longer rides up to, as formerly, from find to kill: still he contrives to be in his place ere the whoo-whoop has died away in the distance. His laugh rings as joyously as it did when, as a boy, he wondered age could laugh, and still more -wondered anything but absolute youth could ride. Long may that joyous laugh resound ! it shows a heart at ease--a conscience making no reproach--and a life spent in peace and charity with all men.

DONCASTER DOINGS.

BY GAYHURST.

" I'se all the way fra Doncastur,

And I'se had a deal to do."

OLD Song.

Never was the adage that “things must come to the worst before they mend” so completely verified as in the case of Doncaster Races. The illiberality of the Corporation had brought them, in 1841, into the very jaws of death. Then appeared the £1,000 grant; but the effect was so neutralized by the inefficiency of the Clerk of the Course, that, in 1849, the Rev. Mr. Alford's three-year-old prophecy as to their final and speedy destruction seemed on the point of “coming off.” It was then that the Corporate Body, as might have been expected, had another fit of the ague, which proved most salutary in its effects. A new clerk of the course (as elever, courteous, and honourable a man as was ever foaled) was appointed, in the person of Mr. R. Johnson, the “Chief-Baron" of the northern turf circuit; the St. Leger was made £25, p.p.; all the drawbacks were handed over to the Race Fund, instead of the Mansion-house coffers ; a triennial stewardship was set on foot; Lord Eglinton gave a £200 plate; and the great Voltigeur and Flying Dutchman year was the result. Since then, the races have “gone on ;" and the last meeting was the greatest ever known. The receipts in the stands were £487 more than they had ever been before; and 118 different horses started.

The town has greater capabilities for racing purposes than any other that we know of. All the fun is concentrated in a small space; while the short distance of the course from the town, the gallops, the betting-rooms, the horse-sales, the theatre larks, the true Yorkshire excitement about " t Leger” and “ t' Moog," and the beautiful Prichard band (the only atoning comfort of the anti-race population), all lend it a unique character which it is vain to look for elsewhere. No wonder, therefore, that Doncaster still holds its ground, and is regarded by the more juvenile portion of its race visitors with affectionate reverence, as the Waterloo on which their sires fought and bled.

Now that the Great Northern has got into full play, and only five hours, or rather four and a quarter, separate Doncaster from London, it is difficult to throw one's mind back to the times when the Great North Road was the “highway of nations" on this occasion, and often worse than a weary way to many, when their faces were again turned towards the south. Cheery George Clark, who used to stand at the door of his hostelrie at Barnby Mour, to tell the last news of the Leger nags, has gone to his rest since then; and the well-known, handsome form of Lord George is, alas! no longer to be seen driving in bis gig, each day, at half-past one, from Welbeck, down the lanes

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