guide. But the great event of the week has
been the funeral of the late Mr. Sayers, and this
is recorded with a degree of particularity and a
depth of feeling which proves how easily a
popular demonstration may be misunderstood
and misrepresented by the uninitiated or the
prejudiced. Not that the mourning writer
gives way to any of those funereal heroics which
provoked the ire of some critics upon a recent
occasion. This "mute of journalism" is
studiously unaffected in his style, and it is easy to
see that, from one point of view, the obsequies
of the late champion were, to use the language
of after-dinner orators, " all that could be de-
sired." " That a man so distinguished in his
profession"—mark the delicacy here; no vulgar
allusions to the departed's proficiency in
administering, say, his celebrated blow "the
auctioneer," but a phrase which might be
applied with propriety to a benevolent physician
or an accomplished artist. That a man so
distinguished in his profession should arouse a
great amount of interest, was only natural; but
yet four miles of road thronged with people,
exceeded every one's most sanguine hopes.
Candidly admitting (and the sound common
sense of the admission increases my respect for
my teacher) that pugilism has fallen from its
high estate, we are next told that it was as
the last representative exponent of the noble
art, and because, from Mr. Sayers's funeral, that
"the decline and fall"—pray note the language
—"of the P. R." would be dated by future
Gibbons, that " reflective persons assembled to
say peace to his ashes, and whisper a farewell
to the glories of the ring."

In my capacity of "reflective person," I
attended the funeral in question, and am now
pleased to find myself credited with far-seeing
philosophy. It is true that my conclusions
differed slightly from the gentleman whose
account I am reading now, but as from internal
evidence I conclude that he had the privilege of
assembling with the family and their friends,
and of riding to the cemetery, while I humbly
trudged thither on foot, I feel sure that the
slight discrepancy between us may be explained
by the distinction in our points of view. The
"very pardonable desire on the part of the
crowd to see the last of their hero;" "the
little pressure brought to bear from the
outside;" and " the marked decorum of the many
hundreds who gained admission," prove that
my Mentor was in the chapel while faces and
heads were being danced upon by thick-booted
Roughs outside. The " little pressure" consisted
in a hand-to-hand fight between two score or so
of policemen and several hundreds of the worst-
looking blackguards that even London is capable
of producing; and " the marked decorum"
consisted of callous shrieking, blasphemy, of
struggles for place round the grave-head, and
of the reckless destruction of trees and
memorials near it. Much of this was fortunately
unknown to the mourning party, for the riot
was at its fiercest while they were in the
cemetery chapel, and I only name these touching
incidents here, to prove that, as "every horse has
some fault," so microscopic scrutiny may detect
trivial errors of judgment even in the most
exemplary of guides. That we should have an
acrostic on the late champion's name signed
"A Hard-working Man," and that " One of
Tom's Admirers" should proffer " his mite"
towards a statue to that hero, seem things of
course; and we turn to aquatics with a profound
feeling that we have yet in England poets and
capitalists ready for their duty.

Plenty of variety again in the aquatic
department. Scullers' race for sixty pounds
between two athletes, with succinct biography of
each, and full particulars of their latest
performances. Where Pastor took his breathings,
and the watchful eye of the experienced host to
whom his splendid condition was due, and how
he lost the race because the referee called
something a foul, must be read to be appreciated. So
must the Torpid and other trials at Oxford,
where glorious spurts made up an exciting race.
If you are doggishly inclined, let us turn the
page. Here you read at length of coursing
matches, where the deeds of dogs are so
glowingly recorded as to make you doubt whether
you were right in giving man the second place
in the animal creation, or whether a practised
greyhound should not rank next the horse.
Stakes for dog puppies, with eighty-seven
entries; stakes for bitch puppies, with eighty-five
entries; stakes for beaten dog puppies; stakes
for beaten bitch, puppies; open stakes; stakes
for all-aged greyhounds; and stakes for dogs of
residents—all these are here. Do you fish or
shoot?—Here is a letter from a gentleman signing
himself Champion Angler, who seems rather
indignant that some other gentleman won't fish
him for one hundred pounds a-side; and here
are records of some brave sport with guns and
pigeons, where five-pound notes, fat bullocks,
and silver watches, depended on the issue. The
fascinating art of swimming, the convivial
suppers it gives rise to, and the money proficiency
in it may win; billiard matches, in which leading
West-end bookmakers take part; athletic sports,
running, walking, and jumping, and the silver
goblets and claret cups to be won, gradually lead
us, like timeworn bachelors, to the ring. That,
at a fight last week, shots with the left were
interchanged, bursters on the head given; and
that while one man got well home on the chest,
another retorted with a cross-buttocker; and
that the victor, who was as strong and fresh as
at the commencement, held his opponent on the
ropes, "somewhat after the manner of
Farnborough" (query, tried to choke him?), and on
being told to relinquish his grasp, adroitly
answered, "He meant to keep his man there while
he had got him," all testify to the keen interest
taken in the profession of which the late Mr.
Sayers was a distinguished ornament.

Such is my guide to the turf. It appeals alike
to roughs and gentles, and is surely a marvellous
illustration of the tastes, habits, and amusements
of a large section of the people. We sneer at
the nations who encourage gambling in their
capitals, and brag of having put down lotteries;
while shilling sweepstakes are openly advertised.