cote's. You haven't thought of the title for the piece?" asked the ma

nager.

"What do you think, sir, of 'The Young Shiloh; or, Joanna's Promise?'" said Duckweed.

"Well, perhaps with a good heading to the bill, addressed to the Southcotians, that title would do. Let me see, your trial for the affair of the dog will come off in a fortnight, and-

66

Oh, sir! I'm perfectly at ease on that account-I have negotiated with Crampley, and he in the handsomest manner has assured me he will not appear. But now, sir, before we go to Southcote, have you determined what salary you intend to offer him for his son or nephew, or whoever may bear his name?"

"Not yet," answered Gag, "I shall first see the sort of style he lives in, and square my offer according to his furniture."

Well, sir, we're getting close upon the number now-and there's the house, sir-and-bless my soul !-the shop shut up, and-and-" "Mutes at the door!" added the manager in despairing tones. "It's impossible that Southcote can be dead!" exclaimed Duckweed, without adding any reason for such impossibility.

"We'll inquire at this public-house," said Gag; and followed by his man, he turned into a hostelry immediately opposite the long-sought pickle-shop.

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"Yes, sir, Mr. Southcote's dead, sir," said the landlord, replying to the anxious query of our manager; dead, sir, I think a week today. Good sort of a man, sir, but we must all die." "And has he left any family-any sons?" inquired Gag. "No sons at all," answered the landlord.

What

"Any nephews, bearing his name?" asked Duckweed. "Hasn't left chick nor child-had no relations whatever. will be done with his money, nobody yet knows. Can I bring you anything, sir?"

"Yes, this news has quite knocked me down-a glass of brandy," said the manager.

"I was never more shocked," said Duckweed, "a glass for me." The landlord departed from the parlour to fulfil the order, and whilst in the bar assured his wife that the two gentlemen just come in were no doubt bosom friends of poor old Southcote, for he had left them in a dreadful quandary. He then returned to his guests.

"Who could have been prepared for this?" said Gag, sipping the brandy.

"And we expected so much from him!" cried Duckweed, emptying his glass.

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Well, gentlemen," said the landlord, "they say he's made a will, and so you mayn't be disappointed after all."

"You are sure there is nobody of his name?" again inquired Duckweed.

"I tell you, sir, certain-there's no heir-at-law, so if you're his friends you don't know what you may get."

"Ar'n't these things," said Gag, "enough to disgust one with life! There's nothing-nothing certain."

At this moment the hearse drove up to the door, and in two or three minutes the body of the late Peter Southcote was brought up from the house.

"There goes the best part of my season," said Gag, as the coffin was conveyed to the hearse. "This is

"What a blow to my piece!" exclaimed Duckweed. dreadful."

Why, gentlemen, if this has come sudden upon you, it must be bad; still," said the philosophic landlord, "death parts the best of friends, and—”

"Who are they getting into the mourning-coaches? Are none of 'em named Southcote ?" The landlord shook his head. "That person, there he would be about the age of young Shiloh," said Gag aside to Duckweed, "and would make up capitally-isn't he a South

cote ?"

"That's Mr. Wix, the tallowchandler," said the landlord. "I tell you again and again, gentlemen, Mr. Southcote hasn't left nobody belonging to him."

Bajazet Gag, accompanied by his sympathizing servant, quitted the public-house, and followed with mournful eyes the hearse and mourning-coaches as they crawled up Houndsditch. "Who in this world," cried the manager, "would set his heart on anything. For days and nights have I dreamt of Shiloh, and-there's my star."

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"Still, sir," said Duckweed, we mustn't despair. I can still be ready with The Chelsea Bun-house,' and something yet may be done with the giant."

The manager smiled a sickly smile, like one who would not be comforted, and with melancholy face beckoning a cabman from a stand, Gag suffered himself to be assisted into the vehicle, and was speedily driven to the theatre.

It

When Gag had digested his disappointment some four or five days, he began to lend a more attentive ear to the counsel of Duckweed, and thought that after all the giant might at least serve as a stop-gap. was strange, however, that Mr. Noah had never called again with a lowered demand: it was rather annoying to be beaten by a showman. Nevertheless, if he held off for a week longer, Duckweed must seek him out, and at his own terms settle the engagement. This was the resolution of Gag, but fortunately for his dignity, he was, on the very day he made it, saved the degradation of an overture on his part, by being accosted by Mr. Noah himself, who sat in the doorway of his van, which he had drawn up, as Gag considered "in insolent proximity to the theatre."

"Walk up, sir-walk up," said Noah to the manager, who had paused at the steps. Gag immediately ascended into the van.

"Eh! why where's the giant?" asked the manager, fearful of his cause of absence.

"Not here just now," said the showman, as Gag thought, in a pen

sive voice.

"I hope, Mr. Noah, he does not intend to play on the other side of the water, because I consider our negotiation still open," said the manager.

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Oh, you do, sir?" said Noah; "well, I am sure I take it as very kind of you."

"Well, then, Mr. Noah-without any more altercation, I'll give the

giant three pounds a week-three pounds and his bed under the stage," was Gag's offer.

"Three pounds!" cried the showman; "it's very little. You know how tall he is—three pounds will never do."

"Well, well, when I can see my way, I never haggle for a pound or two-say four pounds.'

The showman shook his head.

"Four pounds! Oh, sir! see how tall he is."

"Nonsense, you'll take four pounds. Pooh, pooh! Four pounds, I say." Again the showman shook his head. "Well, you really are the hardest fellow to deal with !-Come, at a word-I'll give four pound ten."

"I've seen a good many giants," said the stolid Mr. Noah, "but he is now the very tallest."

"There, d-n it," and a slight blush suffused the cheek of Gag that he was compelled to yield to the showman, "there-there's your own terms, the whole five pounds."

Mr. Noah whistled.

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Why, you'll take five pounds? You'll not be so unprincipled as to refuse-"

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Upon my honour, sir," said the showman, "I don't think you'd find the giant answer your purpose."

"That's my business; besides, you didn't think so a few days ago. Why shouldn't the giant be as good now as then?" asked Gag.

"Because, sir, you see, it so happens that just now the giant is— is-"

"What?" cried the manager.

"Dead," answered the showman.

"Dead!" exclaimed Gag.

"He died last night of the typhus fever; he was sickening for it when I came to offer him to you.'

"And did he die here?" cried Gag, his lips turned blue with apprehension.

"He died in this very van, and was only taken out of it half-an-hour ago. It's quite true," said the showman," I'm going to have him put out of the canvas, and a bonassus painted in."

Gag made no further reply, but jumped down the steps, and hurried to his home.

CHAP, XII.

THIS will necessarily be a very short chapter. Mr. Gag had a morbid horror of all fevers, and of typhus in particular. He took to his bed, and died on the fourth day; displaying in his decease, as Dr. Lavender declared, a striking proof of the influence of imagination; for he died having, in reality, nothing the matter with him. Gag's dying moments showed how his heart hung upon his profession, for his last words were, "Duckweed, to-night no orders-suspend the free list!"

When Gag's will was read, it was found that he had left all his property to his wife, bequeathing only slight professional tokens of his regard to some of his player brethren. To Duckweed he bequeathed a practicable property snake used in pantomimes, and to each of his money-takers a copy of the best sixpenny edition of "THE FORTY THIEVES."

FOREIGN SPORTING.

BY NIMROD.

CONCEIVING that the subject of Foreign Sporting could not be concluded in these pages without an account of the last grand spring racemeeting at Chantilly-the Newmarket of France-I left England for the purpose of attending it, and wrote a full account of all I considered worthy the notice of the readers of the New Monthly Magazine. Unfortunately, the parcel was lost on its passage, and therefore the MS. could not be published at the time it was intended. Now what was to be done? The re-writing an article of this nature, when all lively impressions from the scenes witnessed have cooled down, and nothing wherewith to refresh my recollection left but a few straggling notes in my pocketbook (no rough copy having been made), is certain to end in a failure, when contrasted with the first attempt: still, as I have before said, the conclusion to the subjects of these papers requires the attempt to be made, and I will do the best I can to render it palatable to your numerous readers.

It will be recollected that for the two previous years to the one I am speaking of, the Duke of Orleans was deprived of the pleasure anticipated from his attendance at the Chantilly spring races; in the first, by an émeute in Paris; in the second, by his absence with the army in Africa. On the late occasion, then, his royal highness was resolved to have amends made to himself and his friends, for whose entertainment he had made great preparation, by one of the grandest displays that even royalty itself has made on occasions of public amusements, an estimate of which may be formed by the fact of the cost of the week exceeding the sum of ten thousand pounds! Neither were the members of the Paris Jockey Club less zealous on the occasion. No less than four large houses in the town of Chantilly were hired for the accommodation of themselves and their friends, and fifty pounds for the week was no uncommon demand for a house equal to the accommodation of a moderately-sized family. Even my usual payment of a napoleon per night for my bed, was not deemed enough on this brilliant occasion, and everything in the town was chalked up double. Even common stalls, in bad stables, were charged for at the rate of five shillings per night; and as for a box for a race-horse, a box at the Opera might have been had at less cost. Well might the good people of Chantilly and its environs cry out "Hurrah for the Duke of Orleans and racing!" for since the death of their beloved Duke de Bourbon, the first sportsman in their land, they have not seen such times.

I have no recollection of the first subject treated of in the lost article, but I will commence with one in explanation of an objection frequently alluded to by the reporters of the English newspaper press, touching what is called " keeping the course" in France. It is true that, to an Englishman accustomed to the freedom of an English racecourse except when a race is being run, it is by no means pleasing to have a bayonet pointed to his breast, although accompanied by a civil request not to enter within the ropes; but the difference between EngFeb.-VOL. LXIV. NO. CCLIV.

land and France as nations, is here to be taken into consideration. In England, racing is so generally popular a pastime, that all the spectators are aware of the proceedings of a race-course. They know that, previously to starting for the prize, each horse takes his "up gallop," as it is termed, by way of letting him feel his legs; and we often see half a dozen or more doing this on various parts of a course. Now our people are on the look-out for these proceedings, and consequently take care of themselves; but were a French race-course only to be cleared during a race, innumerable accidents would happen, from ignorance of what was necessary to be done before the horses start. I must say I never saw any harshness had recourse to, unless in the case of some headstrong fellow attempting to force his way across the course; but I have witnessed several laughable scenes from an opposite conduct to harshness, and was once myself the subject of one. I was standing in the middle of the St. Omer course, when a gendarme approached me, and told me to go out of it. It was in vain that I reminded him it was an hour before the time appointed for the horses to start; and, moreover, that I was the judge of the horses in their running. Of such an office, he had, I'll answer for it, never heard in his life, and he insisted upon my moving off.

"If I am to go," said I, "you shall carry me;" when the man laughed, and left me in the possession of my ground.

There was one improvement to the Chantilly race-course observable at this meeting, the necessity for which I had very strongly insisted upon in former notices of the proceedings, and this was, the doing away with the roping of it all the way round, on the outside, which had been the cause of many accidents both there and on the Champ de Mars course at Paris, from horses running out or bolting, which, in a circular one, (as both these are), they are certain to do on the outside i. e. the one opposite to the posts at which the turns are made. I never saw an English race-course double-roped, neither is it fair towards the jockeys that such should be the case.

I remember being present some years back at the race-ordinary dinner at Hereford, when the late Duke of Norfolk was in high force, although drinking the worst port wine that ever passed my lips,* and on his grace being a second or third time reminded by his chaplain that his carriage was waiting to take him to the course, he observed, “What a pleasant meeting would this be were it not for the races." I, however, suppose the title I have given to this paper, requires that I should say something of the Chantilly races, although the period of their taking place was in May last; but previously to doing so, I have a remark or two to offer on the present general doings of the French turf.

In a former account from my pen of this meeting, I stated a fact, perhaps not generally credited by my readers, viz., that on the Jockey Club Plate of that year (the French Derby), the members of the Paris Jockey Club alone had upwards of 300,000 francs (12,0007.) depending in bets !

It appears, however, by a late trial at Paris (Lord Henry Seymour

* On returning thanks for his health having been drunk, the Duke facetiously remarked, "That he attributed his good health to his drinking, once a year, such excellent port wine at Hereford races!"