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A GLANCE AT DONCASTER RACES AND RACING.

Fox hunting over every description of country, coursing over wold, meadow, or pasture, shooting on the moors, in the cover, or in the open,-and fishing in river or streamlet, have their inducements, attractions, and excitement; and each, suited to the habits or inclinations of its votaries, possesses its peculiar advantages and enjoyments. But, it is an undoubted fact, that the atmosphere of the race-ground is noted for its purity; while the lapwing, in season, takes up its abode there, and the snipe makes its wide expanse its secure home. It is equally true that the Doncaster ground, or Doncaster Moor, as it was formerly called, — taking all matters into the estimate, surpasses all others. The course, situated a mile from the town, is approached by a magnificent rank of giant elms, which throw their shade entirely over the broad footpath and part of what was once the Great North Road, now virtually transferred to the Great Northern Railway.

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The ground is nearly oval, or rather egg-shaped; and the distance is so formed as not to be quite two miles round, in order that the starts for the larger number of stakes can be better witnessed by the spectators, who have thus preserved to them the opportunity of viewing the respective competitors previously to the struggle for victory. The course is perfectly level, except at the Hill,-above a mile from home,the rise and descent of which is very considerable, and is especially felt in the St. Leger race, which is literally run from end to end at the top of the speed. The turf itself, beneath which is a stratum of sand and gravel, is effectually drained, and presents a surface resembling the finest Turkey carpet. The order in which the course is kept, is perfect. It is railed entirely round. At that portion of the ground which is occupied by the spectators on foot, near the respective stands, there are four lines of rails. That part contained between the two centre lines is the running course. The training course is in the inside of this ground. By this excellent arrangement, the pedestrians are protected on each side from being interfered with by carriages and horsemen ; and hence the few accidents which occur during the most thronged meetings.

In order that the stranger may form a true conception of the formation of the ground, let him imagine himself standing on the running course, opposite the St. Leger starting-post, which is placed on the broad part of the ground, situated nearest the road leading to the town, and opposite the Yorkshire Deaf and Dumb Institution. Let him also imagine that he is traversing the same ground as the St. Leger horses bound over during the race. Proceeding onwards, where the course is of considerable width, he crosses the first gravel road. He then passes the mile-and half post. He soon reaches the rise of the Hill, where there is a slight curve. It was at this point where the Marquis of Exeter's Red Gauntlet was forced against the distance-post, which was literally smashed into a thousand pieces; and where Epirus, in 1837, swerving from the track, fell head foremost, and threw his rider, Scott, who was severely injured. The stranger will find the hill steep in its

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ascent. Pausing at the top, he will find placed before him a sight which cannot fail to rivet his attention. From this elevated position, he has a perfect view of the whole ground, and, indeed, far beyond. Descending the hill, which he will find rather precipitous, and reaching the bottom, he approaches the Two-year-old starting-post, exactly one mile from home. The course turns at this point. But the post is placed out of the line of the course, a little backwards, so that rushing directly on the line, these young and delicate creatures commence a straight run at once. Proceeding onwards, the ground is remarkably beautiful. From the T.Y.C., the point just mentioned, as far as the Red House, there extends, in the outside of the ground, railed off from the course, a belt of plantings, consisting of oaks, larches, beeches, chestnuts, and other trees,—the work of the old corporation. These are not only extremely pleasant to the eye of the stranger, as he walks along, giving, as they do, a snugness and security to the scene, but their especial purpose is admirably served, namely, to give a foil to the splendid and varied colours worn by the riders during the exciting struggle for the St. Leger, as well as other races. Advancing onwards for a considerable space, another turn is approached. Opposite this position, where the plantation just mentioned terminates, stands the Red House, placed backwards on the right hand. Immediately in front of this erection, and off the line of the course, is placed the champagnepost. This is called the Champagne course. The turn at this point is also obviated by the post being placed backwards; and thus also a straight run is obtained. From this position to the winning-post, there is only another slight bend on approaching the four lines of white rails. Afterwards, the run is perfectly straight, perfectly level, and of a delightful width. Still proceeding forward and reaching within the distance, the stranger comes opposite the Grand Stand, with its spacious lawn immediately in front. He cannot fail to be struck with the elegant proportions and commodious extent of the building, with its beautiful rank of stone columns. These support the first tier, which is approached by the several large windows placed in front. Above this portion is the verandah, which runs along the front and at both ends of the edifice. It is supported by cast-metal columns and secured by palisades of the same material, the light and elegant appearance of which is the theme of universal admiration. The whole of the roof, which is covered with lead, rises from the front step by step, is occupied by gentlemen, and commands a view of the whole course, with the exception of the dip of the hill. To the right of the building is placed the noblemen's stand, of the same style of architecture. A little also to the right of this erection, but in the line of the white rails, and immediately opposite the winning-post is placed the stewards' stand, a circular building, where, up to the year 1842, the judge had his box fixed within a bow-window, which, although commanding a view of the course in both directions, has been deemed too high. The judge's box is now placed below this window, about a foot from the turf,-a position which enables the judge to come to a more correct decision, especially in races which are run remarkably close; thus leaving the room above for the accommodation of the stewards and their friends.

A race-course picture of this character is not so attractive as a production bearing the touches of Claude. There is no diversity of hill and valley, no abbey ruins decorated with ivy,-no waterbrook, musical

with song, stealing through the green wood,—no snug cottage home,— no grey church tower, nor those many appliances which constitute the attractions of a splendid landscape. When, however, the acknowledged superiority of the ground for the purposes to which it is appropriated, with its buildings for the accommodation and security of the racing community, are associated with the beauty of the town itself, the stranger will have no difficulty in completing the picture. The whole town, indeed--the centre of a rich agricultural district-possesses an air of comfort and convenience which cannot be surpassed. The wide expanse of its streets, the purity of its atmosphere, the superior accommodation of its hotels and inns,-the elegance of its private lodgings, the security by night, as well as by day, by the maintenance of an efficient police, the superiority of its racing,-the excellent arrangements on the course, the magnificence of its approaches,these, with other matters, form a whole which cannot be surpassed in any other part of the kingdom, and certainly cannot be approached in any other country. And as the custom of horse-racing is peculiar to England, so it may be safely put down as characteristic of Englishmen ; and the result is, a breed of horses superior to any other country on the face of the earth, because the two essential qualities of great fleetness and determined endurance, are most harmoniously combined, and the point of highest perfection is fully attained.

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The landscape, however, to be seen to perfection, requires to be filled up with myriads of human beings, all apparently animated by the same impulse, and consequently in pursuit of the same object, giving to "the very age and body of the time its form and pressure." The breath of early dawn, on the great day of the St. Leger, seems fraught with some mighty event, as if some great result, far out of the usual course of things, was about to be achieved. As the morning advances, cheered, perhaps, by the beams of a cloudless sun, the interest increases. The arrival of monster trains in almost fearful succession, from all the large towns of the country, -east, west, north, and south,-contribute their thousands after thousands. The railway platforms are crowded; the station grounds form a scene of peculiar interest and increasing excitement; and although it may puzzle the foreigner in beholding the picture in all its parts,-the lights as well as the shades,-the countless thousands thus assembled to witness the decision of a horse-race,—it may be fairly considered as part and parcel of the national character. The dense throng in the main streets, which seems to be continually augmented by other arrivals along the respective wide avenues leading to the town, chiefly from the rural districts,-the excitement within the betting-room, the cool calculator here,-the desperate adventurer there,

the bustle in the respective inns and private residences,-are sufficiently indicative that the great hour of trial, of victory and defeat, is approaching with deeper interest. Rumour, with her thousand tongues, may speak of changes in the betting-scale-the favourite declining-an unexpected, unthought of competitor coming suddenly but prominently into the market-one still remaining steady-another gradually sliding out of consideration, and a third wholly extinguished; but, with the large mass of visitors, there is a perfect indifference as to which horse may win or which horse may lose. They are attracted to the scene by custom and habit, by the desire to witness a splendid spectacle with its social enjoyments, rather than to mix with the intricacies and perplexi

ties of betting. The "ring is comparatively small; and although within its charmed circle, fatality may attend the discharge of the "seventh bullet," although it may be now the centre from which radiates a principle true or false, that exercises an undoubted influence over every impulse of racing,-the people of England, with their scientific skill, their manufacturing industry, and their commercial enterprise, are not, strictly speaking, a betting people.

The immense tide of human beings of all classes in society, attired in full holiday costume for the great racing festival, thus congregated from all parts of the kingdom, as well as from abroad, in countless vehicles as well as on foot, rolls onward in all its might to the race-ground-the great theatre of action-where there are ample room and verge enough, and where the picture, finished in all its parts, becomes more characteristic, more animated, and more exciting.

The prelude to the great drama of the day only increases the interest and deepens the anxiety. The sound of the bell, like the wave of the magician's wand, arrays everything in perfect order for the final dénouement, the decision of an event which has engaged public attention for the preceding twelve months, and which has been rendered more mysterious by the statements published from time to time, by the jarring reports of private trials, and from private training-stables, and even by the uncertainty in placing reliance upon previous victories. The excitement becomes, if possible, more intense. Hurrying hither, and rushing thither, each spectator takes his place. The Grand Stand is filled to repletion, as are also the minor edifices; the lines of the white rails are crowded from ten to twenty deep; the roofs of carriages are thronged; every elevated position is occupied ; every spot where the sole of the foot can be placed is rendered available; while the course itself, in the presence of tens of thousands, is perfectly clear for the desperate struggle. Around the ring, in the centre of the lawn, a crowd of speculators eagerly press, with betting-books open, and pencil in hand. There is a clamour of many voices, which occasionally increases to a loud and indescribable roar; some confident of success-others anxious to make themselves safe-there the desperate venture-there the cool and the watchful-all displaying those emotions which the charmed circle alone can call forth in ever-varying manifestations of feeling and emotion. As favourite after favourite is brought forth, stripped, walked about, or mounted, every racing point is criticised, the condition particularly attended to, every improvement or otherwise correctly noted, and all those peculiarities which warrant success or render the contest doubtful, and which have, more or less, an immediate influence on the betting thermometer-now rising to blood heat with regard to one, or sinking to zero with respect to another. In the meanwhile, the process of weighing is completed. Soon each jockey is mounted; and the whole proceed in cautious succession to the course, before the gaze of all. Instantly, the words, "Hats off, gentlemen: hats off!" are heard from the summit of the Grand Stand, which presents one immense mass of human heads. The parade of the equine competitors is a most beautiful and imposing sight. All eyes are directed to the crowd of horses as they move slowly and cautiously along. Attention becomes mute and almost breathless, as though the fate of nations hung in the balance.

In order to complete the racing spectacle, let the stranger imagine that it is the memorable year of the dead heat between Charles the

Away they rush, amid "A beautiful start!" Charles takes the lead. Dolphin and MalvoThey ascend the hill.

Twelfth and Euclid; when, out of one hundred and seven subscribers, fourteen horses came to the post. The first that makes his appearance on the ground is Bloomsbury (S. Rogers), the winner of the Derby, evidently too fat-too bulky to maintain the required speed. Next comes the Purity colt (Colloway); then Dragsman (Macdonald) and Bolus (Hassletine). Then Charles the Twelfth (W. Scott), the observed of all, in splendid condition; and then Euclid (Conolly) in full bloom, with his muscular powers fully developed-a most dangerous rival. Then immediately follow the Provost (Templeman); Malvolio (T. Lye); Dolphin (J. Holmes); Hyllus (S. Day); The Lord Mayor (G. Nelson); The Corsair (J. Day); Fitzambo (J. Marson); and Easingwold (J. Cartwright). And thus stands the betting:-6 to 4 on Charles the Twelfth; 6 to 1 against Bloomsbury; 10 to 1 against Malvolio; 13 to 1 against Euclid; 25 to 1 against Hyllus; 30 to 1 against the Provost; 35 to 1 against Easingwold; 40 to 1 against the Lord Mayor; and 40 to 1 against Bolus. The whole body of horses move slowly and anxiously to the broad space opposite the St. Leger starting-post. The bright beams of a cloudless sun spread themselves over the whole scene, lighting up the colours worn by the respective jockeys, and increasing the splendour of the spectacle. The reins are carefully handled,-every rider, cautiously glancing from side to side, is ready-every horse in a favourable position. They reach the post. The starter, as anxious as the rest, drops his flag with the word, "Go!" exclamations far and wide, "They're off!" "Here's a race!" Now comes the tug of war. Bloomsbury, Euclid, and Bolus, are close at hand. lio, are immediately behind. Onwards they rush. Dragsman, Easingwold, and the Purity colt, are defeated. The latter pulls up and returns. They stream down the hill. They reach the T. Y. C. "Bloomsbury's beat!" shouts a well-known voice; "he's had enough!" He falls back into the, rear along with Bolus. Charles increases his speed. He is several lengths a-head. "Scott makes too free with the horse," is anxiously shouted. "He'll be caught !" vociferate many. Euclid mends his pace gradually. The Dolphin, Malvolio, and the Provost, do the same. These three are head to head. Charles still rushes onward. They reach the Red House bend. The Dolphin declines. Malvolio takes his place. "Euclid's coming up!" exclaims one. "Euclid wins!" shouts another. They reach the end of the white rails. The favourite 's in danger. Euclid goes most beautifully, as resolute as possible. The stride of Charles is tremendous. "The blood of Emilius and Wisker will do it !" says a famous breeder. They reach the distance; and the gallant Euclid fairly couples his formidable competitor. Now comes the slashing work. The spurs are applied: the whips are elevated-stroke succeeds to stroke. The two are head to head. "Euclid Euclid!"-"Charles-Charles !"-" Euclid wins!" roar ten thousand voices. They are opposite the Grand Stand. Euclid is a clear head in advance. Every muscle, tendon, and sinew are visible. The outstretched head and neck of each form two parallel lines. Euclid fetches up his hind quarters admirably; Charles is at full stretch. Again comes the roar of "Charles" and "Euclid," with a yet louder cry of "A dead heat !" and "Scott-Scott !"-" Conolly--Conolly!" They reach the post. One loud shout, like the crash of thunder, bursts from the excited mass. None could tell which was the victor. But the judge

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