437 JACK TAR. ENGRAVED BY J. MOOR, FROM A PAINTING BY W. H. DAVIS. The meeting of the Royal Agricultural Society at Northampton last year was the means of starting an interesting discussion on a subject that could not have been introduced anywhere more appropriately than in that sporting shire. Sir Harry Smith, one of the great features of the show, took occasion, in returning thanks for the honour so enthusiastically paid him, to confess himself a sportsman as well as a soldier; to speak of the many capital days he had enjoyed of yore in charging the Pytchley blackthorns; and "thirdly," to advise the Society to pay every attention they could to keeping up the breed of hunters. Sir Had "the man of war" stopped here, few would have questioned the loud cheers that accompanied nearly every sentence of his speech. Harry, however, followed up his recommendation to the Council by giving it as his own opinion that this breed of animal had greatly dete riorated of late years, and consequently that if five hundred such horses were wanted on an emergency for mounting cavalry, there would be a great difficulty, if not an actual impossibility, in obtaining them. On this point the house divided, some taking it as indisputable authority, while others were prepared to dispute the opinion in toto. Amongst the former appeared Mr. V. S. Cherry, armed with a pamphlet that had for its aim the altering the conditions on which the Queen's guineas were in future to be given, viz., to be shown for instead of run for; Mr. Cherry starting from the assumed fact that as the breed had fallen off, there must be something radically wrong in the distribution of those prizes by which it was intended to be encouraged. Against Mr. Cherry and his essay appeared Mr. Goodwin, and again against Mr. Goodwin answered Mr. Godwin-Mr. Pegasus, the celebrated Turf oracle of Bell's Life, giving his support to Goodwin, versus the firm of Smith, Cherry, and Co. For our part, we decidedly think the "Noes have it." From the very recent period when we paid all the honour we were able to so good a man as Sir Harry Smith, we shall, we are sure, not be thought carping at his well-earned popularity in stating that we think the hero's words could not on any fair grounds be taken with the weight here that would attach to them on many other subjects. The greater part of his life has been passed in foreign countries about the tropics, a region where animals of all kinds are well known to be of diminished dimensions, while his short stay in England could never have been sufficient to properly test the opinions he had conceived on service. Pegasus says, instead of five hundred good hunters being a difficult task to collect, it would be tolerably easy to make them five thousand; and we say so too. For one grand crack hunter twenty years ago, we could name twenty now. Such celebrities as Mr. Lindow's The Clipper, Mr. Best's Confidence, and one or two others, might now be multiplied over and over again. For Lord Plymouth's one stable of thorough-bred weight-carrying horses, we could name a dozen or two at any time, in any of our crack hunting countries. Take a large field of our steeple-chase H H horses as we see them year after year brought out, and then consider if you could have commanded such a sight as that thirty years ago; the best and purest bred horses in the world, possessing courage, strength, and speed beautifully combined, and all in the highest degree of excellence. People talk about weedy jades, with ten or eleven stone on them, going just one spin of four miles or so, when the good old English hunter would have dropped suffocated before he could have gone one mile at such a pace as these "jades" make it; while as for a succession of work the modern would wear the ancient out two or three times over. If any breed of animal has improved within the present century, it is the English hunter; and if any has multiplied, it is this kind of horse. For one man that went to meet hounds in 1800, perhaps a hundred go now-for one man in a field that rode to hounds then, twenty ride now -there are far more men keep hunters, and far more ride themhounds go faster, and horses go with them. If, under these circumstances, the English hunter has decreased and degenerated, it is beyond our "ken" to account for it. That the £30 premium from the Royal Agricultural Society has, or ever will have, much share in effecting this progressive advance, we do not believe. Indeed, we think the members of the Society themselves look on it with far less interest than they do to the prizes in other classes. The improvement in the horse comes direct from the Turf, and wellintentioned Mr. Cherry, in his care to avoid a purely imaginary evil, would have taken precisely the surest means for making it a real one. The well-bred horse can scarcely ever be properly estimated in the showyard his province not being the putting on fat in proper places, or exhibiting a fine woolly coat, takes him rather out of the line of the judges; besides, with no animal is "like begets like" more uncertain. Meteor, son of Eclipse, was a mean-looking little horse, not within an inch or two of fifteen hands, and he got some of the finest and largest stock ever seen. Such instances, or vice versâ, might be repeated to almost an unlimited extent, all tending to prove that the " Show" and " "Go" do not here approximate. About the safest mark in breeding from the thorough-bred horse is pedigree; but this has, we have heard, had but little consideration from the judges selected to pick out the winner at the great July Meetings; in fact, in some of the early lists, while dam, grandam, and greatgrandam of short-horns are given ad infinitum from the Herd Book, the name of the sire or dam of the best horse has been altogether omitted. To afford our readers some idea of the class of horse that Jack Tar may have had to contend with for his honours, we have gone over the awards from the first year's show at Oxford, in 1839, when, we remember, not one of the exhibited was thought worthy of the prize : the following year, at Cambridge, it was paid to Mr. J. Reynolds, of Wisbech, for his eight-year-old horse; but as neither name nor pedigree are added, we are unable to say what horse this was. In 1841, at Liverpool, no such class is mentioned; so that we lead off with our illustration of the sort. 1842. Bristol.-Jack Tar, by Emilius, out of Sheldrake, by Scud. 1843.-Derby.-Johnny Boy, by Jerry, dam (Beeswing's dam), by Ar drossan. 1844.-Southampton.-Horse by Langar, dam by Cervantes. 1845. Shrewsbury.-Clarion, by Sultan, out of Clara, by Filho da 1846. Puta. Newcastle.-Newsmonger, by Voltaire, out of Cyprian, by Par tizan. In 1847, at Northampton, we can find none mentioned. Of all these, none came more in character with the exhibition at which he appeared than Jack Tar. It will be seen, from his portrait, that the elegance of the thorough-bred horse is but little marked in his appearance; indeed, he rather presents that plain useful sort of front we can fancy striking so home to the hearts of the agriculturists. As still, though, he also appeared on the turf, we shall conclude our notice with the particulars we usually add concerning all the high-mettled that honour our pages. PEDIGREE. Jack Tar, a chesnut horse, bred by the Duke of Cleveland in 1827, is by Emilius, out of Sheldrake (sister to Sailor), by Scud, her dam, Goosander, by Hambletonian-Ruby, sister to Rebel, by Trumpater- Emilius, by Orville, out of Emily, by Stamford, won the Derby, and was about the best stud horse ever known, getting more and better winners than any two horses of his day. Sheldrake was remarkable neither in the stable nor the stud. PERFORMANCES. In 1830, we find the Sheldrake colt, then three years old, first" appearing as the property of the Marquis, afterwards Duke of, Cleveland, at Newmarket Craven Meeting, where he ran second to Lord Exeter's Augustus, for a Sweepstakes of 100 sovs. each. Mr. Wilson's colt by Middleton also started. At the first Spring Meeting, ridden by Chifney, he won the Spring Underley Stakes of 100 sovs. each, beating Mr. Cooper's Prima Donna colt. At Epsom he was not placed for the Derby, won by Mr. W. Chifney's Priam, Sam Chifney having to give up his seat on the winner to ride him. At Stockbridge, having passed into Mr. Shard's hands, he was not placed for a Sweepstakes of 5 sovs. each, won by Mr. Delmè Radcliffe's The Colonel. At Salisbury he ran third and last for the Wiltshire Stakes; won by Mr. Bigg's Tyke. In 1831 he only ran once, when he was not placed for the Borough Members' Plate at St. Alban's; won by Mr. Isaac Day's Busk. The Sheldrake colt never appeared in public after this till, as Mr. Hillyer Reeve's Jack Tar, he carried off the £30 at Bristol, and in commemoration of which his portrait was taken. The horse is now, we believe, gone abroad, but he covered for some seasons at low prices in the neighbourhood of Swindon, and is the sire of Bird's-eye, Betty Lop, and that tolerably good cocktail Master Tommy. И н 2 THE FISTIC TOURNAMENT-1847. WITH A FEW REMARKS UPON THE PRIZE-RING OF THE PRESENT AND PAST TIMES. BY LORD WILLIAM LENNOX. "Ingenuas pugni didicisse fideliter artes, "The faithful study of the fistic art From mawkish softness guards a Briton's heart." Comic Latin Grammar. "There is but one other point to which I would more particularly call your attention; for while we sympathize with the misfortunes of those in our own immediate circle, we must not lose sight of the distresses of our brethren in Ireland and Scotland. From these oncehappy lands we have enjoyed the pleasure of witnessing the gallantry of their heroes. From the former, the deeds of Dan Donnelly, Jack Langan, Simon Byrne, and others, are still familiar to our recollection; while our memories are equally alive to the bravery of M'Kay, M'Girty, Robinson, &c. These countries are now groaning under the horrors of pestilence and starvation; and I am sure I need not impress on the minds of British boxers the duties which these cries impose upon them. You have ever been prompt in the hour of affliction, whether at home or abroad, whether from public or private calamity, to stretch forth the hand of charity; and I would fain hope that the present occasion will not be lost by you in employing your hands, with heart and soul, to assist in alleviating the affliction of our Irish and Scotch friends." So spoke the commissary-general of the prize-ring at the opening of the pugilistic session, and in words that, for truth, justice, and sincerity, could not be equalled in that arena for senatorial gladiatorship, St. Stephen's. This appeal to the "knights of the knuckle" was followed by one from the editor of Bell's Life in London to the readers of that truly independent and admirably-conducted journal; and it is one that does such infinite credit to the heart and hand of the talented writer, that we cannot refrain from recording it in the pages of the sporting literature of the month : "Twenty-five years have elapsed since we took in hand the helm of our staunch steamer,' Bell's Life in London,' and amidst the vicissitudes to which we have been exposed, thanks to the excellence of our crew, and their consistent energies on all trying occasions, we ride triumphantly on the waves of public opinion, with our 'steam well up,' and our machinery' in matchless condition. Of the manner in which we have managed our 'craft,' our 'log' affords the best evidence; for there we find registered that the weekly average of those kind friends journeying with us for the last twelve months amounts to twenty-five thousand four hundred. This is a pleasing consolation, and disentitles us, personally, to ask for more than a continuance of similar favour; but we hope we shall not be deemed too exacting if we venture to appeal, though not for ourselves, for others, who have far stronger claims on the sympathies and succour of our countrymen-we allude to our starving brethren in Ireland and Scotland. The response to this appeal, we venture to hope, will be promptly made, and the more especially as the trifle we ask will not interfere with other calls which the poor of our own country legitimately have upon us. Our proposition is simple, and we shall be brief in its details. "The average weekly circulation of Bell's Life in London' has been, as we have stated, for the last twelve months, 25,400. Each sheet, on the aggregate, is read by at least ten persons. Thus, if our calculation be correct, we have 254,000 readers. Supposing each of these persons were to subscribe one penny, the amount realized would exceed one thousand pounds! But if we reduce our estimate even by a half, then we shall have five hundred pounds to pour into the cruse,' the contents of which are hourly increasing, towards mitigating horrors the bare recital of which fills us with dismay. This is our plan; and we have sufficient confidence in our own position to believe that we shall receive credit with all who are influenced by the spirit which warms us for quickly and honestly discharging the trust reposed in us, by devoting every farthing we receive, through public channels, to the humane objects professed. "We need hardly say that, if pennies are occasionally swollen to larger coin by those who appreciate our motives, our gratification will be the greater; but, whatever the issue, proud shall we be to proclaim that This is the work of the sporting readers of Bell's Life in London!' and where shall we find the kindly attributes of man's nature more predominant than in the breasts of the sportsmen of England?'" This forcible appeal was followed by an announcement that on Monday, the 8th of February, a grand fistic tournament, under the patronage of the editor of Bell's Life in London, would take place at the National Baths, Westminster-road; the whole under the management of a committee of British boxers; and that the most celebrated of the "heavy," "middle," "light," and "feather-weights" would set to, and that " 'every man would do his duty." The list of the artists who volunteered their services upon this interesting occasion stood thus: Bryan and Cronan. Porky Clark and Berry. Hayes and Shaw's Mouse. Masters of the Ceremonies: Joe Phelps and Barnash. Ned Adams and Harry Broome. Ned Painter and Isle-of-Wight Hall. Spring and Crawley's Big 'Un. Tom Cribb and Peter Crawley. As the day approached for the "tilting" exhibition, the greatest interest prevailed in every sporting circle. That truly popular, canine, and humane man, Mr. Bishop, master-general of the Birmingham ordnance, fired off his shot to every customer, bringing down lots of game. The public-spirited editor of Bell's Life was also actively employed in the same praiseworthy cause; and to the unwearied zeal and untiring exertions of these patrons of manly sports may the success of this charitable undertaking be attributed. Unfortunately the day was most unpropitious, the whole of the afternoon |