chase of his from Mr. Borron's-although he was uncommonly hardpressed by Bit-of-Fancy, who was not in the Aldridge sale. Banner Blue, who was bought in there, ran wonderfully well, and many doubted whether Do Well really beat him. The Altcar Club meeting did not give great satisfaction in its trials. The young Sackcloths and Stockwells were handy, but the old Sackcloth himself went down in his first course for the Veteran Stakes, which Rival, a coeval of his, won. Lutestring (1850) was the Nestor of the eight. Mr. Ewing's kennel turned out the winner Lunette, at the Ardrossan Club; Mr. Borron's nominations, Blackness, and Blue Ensign going down in their first courses, Buying in, of a verity, does not seem to prosper. The present Mr. Corbet of Sundorne, has stopped the coursing meetings, but allows plenty of private days. The gatherings had become far too large, and really many seemed only to go for a pull at the pork-pie and porter cart, which used to wend its way at noon with its heavy-freight to the ruined refectory of Haughmond Abbey. What a glorious coursing spot it is, beneath that craggy grig-clad range of hills, from the Corbet Flagtower to Holly Coppice, which so often of yore gave back an answering echo to Will Staples and his "Shropshire Woodman." THE DAM OF BLINK BONNY AND HARICOT. ENGRAVED BY E. HACKER, FROM A PAINTING BY HARRY HALL. Queen Mary, bred by Mr. Dennis in 1843, is by Gladiator, her dam (foaled in 1840) by Plenipotentiary, out of Myrrha, by Whalebone. Gladiator (foaled in 1833) was by Partizan, out of Pauline, by Moses. He ran second, in Lord Wilton's colours, to Bay Middleton for the Derby, and is yet better known as a stud horse. Queen Mary's dam, bred by Mr. Watt, was also the dam of Beverlac, Ruth, The Prior, Britannia, Myrtle, and others. She died in 1854. Queen Mary is a bright-yellow bay mare, standing about fifteen hands three inches high. She has a very blood-like head, with a full, fiery eye, and strong neck, adorned with but a rough, scratchy mane. She has good shoulders, and that peculiar prominence of the pectoral muscle so remarkable in Blink Bonny. She has powerful arms, short legs, and a roomy barrel; is high on the rump, drooping towards the tail, which, unlike her famous daughter's, is full and long. Queen Mary is but a queer-tempered mare, very wild in the paddock, and blowing defiance to any stranger who approaches her or hers. In our picture she is standing guard over the latest hope of the family, Miss Bab-at-the-Bowster. In the better months of the year, Queen Mary shows a coat shining like satin; and she makes up, as we think will be admitted, into a very pretty subject. Queen Mary never ran but once, being then in I'Anson's hands, and the property of that rare sportsman Mr. W. R. Ramsay, more celebrated as the owner of Lanercost, Inheritor, and other good horses. Queen Mary's trial was at Chester, in the spring of 1845, when she was not placed for a two-year-old stake, at five furlongs :won by Lord George Bentinck's clipping filly the Princess Alice; Mr. O'Brien's The Traverser second, and seven others in the ruck. Queen Mary was put to the stud the next season, and in 1847 threw her first foal Haricot, by Mango, or Lanercost. Another filly, by Mango, in 1848, died when a foal, and Mr. Ramsay during the following year. On his decease, Queen Mary, with her third foal Braxey, by Moss Trooper, at her foot, and in foal to Annandale with Balrownie, was sold amongst the other horses, to Mr. Carnegie, of Balnamon, for twenty pounds. Mr. I'Anson subsequently reclaimed her with Balrownie, then a foal, for a hundred guineas the two, and another ten-pound note for Braxey. The first "turn" I'Anson ever had as a trainer was with Haricot, a very good mare, who won ten races at three years old, and did good service for three seasons more. The next foal, Braxey, by no means disgraced her family. She was a very useful one, that must have quite paid her way, and stood five years' work as a public runner and schoolmistress. Balrownie was of a rather higher class. He ran fourth for the St. Leger, and won the Doncaster Stakes in the same week, beating amongst others Sittingbourne, Umbriel, and Filbert. The next in succession of Queen Mary's produce was a colt in 1851 to the cocktail, Ferneley. In 1852 she threw Blooming Heather, by Melbourne, who ran second for the Oaks of her year, and was thought to be a filly of great promise. The next year came Bonnie Scotland, by lago, also much fancied at different times and places. He ran a dead heat for second place in the St. Leger, and, like Balrownie, improved upon this by winning the Doncaster Stakes. In 1854 we have the pride of the family in Blink Bonny, by Melbourne. In 1855 Queen Mary missed to Touchstone. In 1856 Balnamoon, by Annandale, was the produce; and in 1857 a filly with the defiant title of Bab-at-the-Bowster, also by Annandale. The following is the correct return of Queen Mary's produce :1847. Brown filly "Haricot," by Mango, or Lanercost. 1848. Filly by Mango (died a foal). 1849. Bay filly" Braxey," by Moss Trooper. 1850. Bay colt "Balrownie," by Annandale. 1851. Bay colt (half-bred) by Ferneley. 1852. Bay filly "Blooming Heather," by Melbourne. 1853. Bay colt" Bonnie Scotland," by Iago. 1854. Bay filly "Blink Bonny," by Melbourne. 1855. Missed to Touchstone. 1856. Brown colt " Balnamoon," by Annandale. 1857. Bay filly "Bab-at-the-Bowster," by Annandale. The are few cases on record where a brood mare has thrown so many foals that could "all run a bit." In fact, so far there has been nothing of Queen Mary's but that has more or less distinguished itself, and all, rather curiously, in Mr. I'Anson's own colours. They have been, indeed, the foundation of his fortunes, as it was with them he first tasted the sweets of success on the turf. I'Anson took to the pursuit much against the wishes of his own family, who are Middleham people, and where the owner of Blink Bonny was born. He resided, however, for some vears, and perfected himself in the curious art of training the race-horse, at Gullane, in Scotland; hence the canny names his horses still bear. These are now but recollections, as he has for some years been settled again in Yorkshire, at Spring Cottage, Malton, where has always a good string of horses under his care. Still I'Anson never became a marked man until the advent of Blink Bonny, whose vicissitudes promised at one time to make him something more than famous. Nothing could be more satisfactory than his refutation of the charges whispered against him. His letter is, indeed, a very memorable one in many ways; commendable for the manly style in which it is written, and remarkable as an essay on the ills to which horseflesh is liable. This, though, is an old story. He who puts his faith, says the poet, in the fidelity of a wolf, the word of a woman, or the health of the horse, is likely enough to get into trouble. For the last of these, at any rate, Mr. I'Anson has had to answer. SNIPE SHOOTING IN IRELAND. It was a bright day amongst the first of the new year of '58, that my friend and I, with Fudge, the black retriever, started on an expedition against the snipe. We had already too long deferred the day, and now, as we called for the car (an outside Irish jaunting car, the handiest in the world for shooting, whatever objections it might have in London), we determined to make up for lost time by a good bag. All was ready-our shot-bags well filled, our powder dried in boiling water, wad and cap pockets full, lots of spare ammunition, sandwiches, and sherry-all upon the car as we stepped up, and off we drove. It was a hilly country, with gorse and whins growing amongst the stone walls; and at the foot of nearly every hill a small bog lay stretched in the hollow, covered with rushes and that thin white grass so congenial to the taste of snipe. These, and occasional lakes, were our principal beats for the day. The wind was blowing almost a storm as we arrived at our first ground-a good-sized lake, with broad moory flats, sprinkled with bulrushes and sedgy grass stretching down to the water's edge, and looking uncommonly snipy. Off with the great coats, and out with the guns, and "Let the car wait where you are, driver, till we come back," and away we start over the walls across the field, for the lake. The country is rather flooded, and as we get to the place we find the only pass eight inches deep in water, and a very uncertain-looking bottom. We have the option of either walking round the bog, and not going near the lake, or, coolest of all cool things, the first plunge into the water on a wintry day. I need not say we chose the latter. "Twas soon over. We were thoroughly wet as we landed on the opposite bank, and made our way down to the lake. We had hardly got there when up sprang the first snipe, loudly screaming as he turned over the lake up in the wind's eye. He was getting high in the air, when a shot from my friend sent him spinning round down into the water, and, blown by the wind, he floated back amongst the tall rushes. Fudge, the retriever, was equal to the occasion, and brought out our first bird. As we walked along another got up, and another, decidedly wild; and, at last, having both just fired at a bird which we will hope was out of shot, and in the act of loading, up got such a wisp-twelve or fifteen all together-off a little point stretching out into the lake, about eighty yards off, and with shrill whistle soared off into the air high out of our sight. This was rather a sell, particularly as close to them two brace of large ducks also got up, and, after one or two preliminary wheels, flew steadily away across the hills. A flight of green plover crossed high over our beads at this moment, and at a long shot I broke, as we afterwards found out, the tip end of the wing bone of one. He kept himself up a long time, and balancing on the high wind continued to fly for about 300 yards, when he slowly reached the ground on the other side of the lake, where we afterwards picked him up. We beat the other side of the lake, when three snipe got up wild; and then on to the car, and drove to the next little " scraw," not more than half a mile off. This was of a different nature from the last: a broad drain encircled it; and when we had jumped that, which was full to the brim of water, we found ourselves on one of those shaky bogs, peculiar, I believe, to Ireland, and which to those unlearned in such matters are most dangerous. It is formed of grass and rushes growing closely together over a sheet of water, and which from long growth have gradually become so knit together as to form a skin, on which if you tread lightly and cunningly and quickly, although trembling and quivering for yards round, will yet support you, but which one false step may break through, and down you go to a depth which depends to a certain extent on that of the water beneath. I may add that you are seldom in real danger, as generally before that your friend comes to the rescue, and pulls you out; but I have known instances where men were very nearly lost, and have had to throw their guns across the skin to keep themselves up. More than once have I seen a man leap boldly out from a sound bank to a small green island which he thought firm, but which has proved one of those deceptive traps floating on the top of the water. This floating sod is, as I need not tell many of your readers, the best lie for the snipe, and the almost invariable haunt of the jack. But to proceed we were cautiously creeping, knee deep, on to the far end, which looked quite the thing, when up got, almost together, three snipe at our feet, and two further on. As they wheeled past us, up the wind, we were fortunate enough to bag all three, and shot one more before leaving. So far, so good-two brace and a-half and a plover. A good scrambling walk across some heavy fields and through some stiff fences brought us within view of another large lake, with a good deal of bog and marshy ground all round. A boy came running towards us, to say that close to the edge of the lake was a flock of ducks swimming about amongst the reeds we drew our charges immediately, put in one of Eley's cartridges into our left barrel, and under cover of a large bank stretching down to the lake, we stole cautiously along, till we came within about 100 yards, when our bank stopped, and with the exception of a few high rushes, we had no cover of any kind. Now for it: we determined to run in upon them; so throwing down our hats, and stooping down, we ran straight for the lake. We just pulled up, as they were getting out of the water, 60 yards off, and instantly gave them our two cartridges. Although they were not the common wild duck, they turned out to be a flock of the tufted ducks; and we had the satisfaction of seeing one lying with his white breast turned up, stone-dead, and another diving, evidently hard hit. His dives |