NEW MINSTER;

WINNER OF THE ST. LEGER, 1851.

ENGRAVED BY E. HACKER, FROM A PAINTING BY HARRY HALL.

BY CASTOR.

Newminster, bred in 1848 by the younger Mr. Orde, who succeeded to Nunnykirk, and with it to t'auld mare, was got by Touchstone, out of Beeswing, by Dr. Syntax, her dam by Ardrossan, out of Lady Eliza, by Whitworth-Spadille-Sylvia, by Young Marske.

Touchstone, bred by the late Lord Westminster, in 1831, and got by Camel, out of Banter, by Master Henry, was one of the best race-horses ever saddled; while as a stallion he has long been admitted as the best we have. It would be impossible here to name a tithe of the good runners out by him; but Newminster is his third Leger winner-his son Surplice winning this race in 1848, and his daughter Blue Bonnet in 1842. Surplice, it will be remembered, also won the Derby, as did Cotherstone, in 1843, and Orlando, in 1844. Touchstone's only Oaks winner was Mendicant, in 1846; in fact the Touchstone fillies have always been considered the weaker half of his stock.

Beeswing's renown on the turf is quite equal to Touchstone's--indeed no runner ever enjoyed so great a popularity as "t'auld mare." In the stud, hitherto, despite the capital openings afforded them, her produce have not been in any way so successful. Her first foal, Old Port (foaled in 1844), trained on to be a most miserable-looking animal, and was quite as bad as he looked; but then first foals are nearly always indifferent. Nunnykirk (in 1846), however, was much better, and his own brother Newminster better still. Of Bonnie Bee (the produce of '47) little is known, while the three-years-old for next year, Norham, has made too much noise in the world already, having been scratched by Mr. Nicholl, at Doncaster, for all his engagements, and then given to any aspiring gentleman who chose to take him away: he is a rank roarer. Beeswing's stock now appear to go regularly, as if by contract, to Mr. Nicholl, of Newcastle-on-Tyne-a gentleman who takes to them good and bad, with all the temper and spirit our friends further north enjoy a bit of racing.

Newminster is a good bright bay horse, standing scarcely fifteen hands an inch and a-half high; he has a neat, nag-like, expressive head, a straight and rather long neck, with splendid shoulders, falling well back-perhaps, indeed, as fine a shoulder as ever was seen; he has good depth of girth, strong muscular back, with ribs well hooped out, and very powerful quarters; his thighs are muscular, gaskins as well as legs short, and hocks, knees, and feet good, with very fair sized bone. Newminster carries his head low, and in his clothes might be passed by as a mean-looking little horse; he, however, improves wonderfully on the eye the more you see of him-not a big one by any means, but low and lengthy, with an immense deal of power, and some really splendid racing points. His temper, too, is excellent; and to borrow a bit of saddle-room vernacular, we may sum him up "as long as a ship, and as quiet as a sheep.'

and grandfather having been claimants for the peerage of Huntingdon, upon which unsuccessful claim they spent nearly the whole of their property. Jem Hastings was originally brought up as a tailor, but evidently having more "hunting blood" in his veins than was compatible with that calling, preferred the chace of the fox to handling the goose. Nearly from the commencement of Earl Fitzhardinge keeping hounds, this untiring veteran has been in the habit of following them on foot; and his powers of endurance appear to have been inexhaustible. It is related of him, that one morning on which the hounds met in the Broadway country, he walked from Cheltenham, 16 miles, and thence to the covert-side, 8 miles; followed the hounds all day, and was with them when they killed at Fairford, another 12 miles; back to Broadway, 20 miles, and thence to Cheltenham, 16 miles further. Not content with this, Jem went badger-hunting at night in Queen and West woods, adding another 12 miles to the distances already enumerated: thus, in twenty-four hours he must have gone at least 84 miles. He preferred walking to riding even when he had an opportunity, declaring it would tire him more than the exercise to which he was so much accustomed.

In my last communication, alluding to the sailing properties of the America, I made the remark that internal room and luxurious accommodation were generally greater considerations in the modelling and fitting up of our yachts than fast sailing qualities: to this may be added capabilities of encountering "heavy gales and boisterous seas," a reflection we are led to by the distressing catastrophe which befel the Owen Glendower on the night of September 24th, off the coast of Ireland, having on board her owner, William Moore, Esq., Mrs. Moore, Mrs. Massey, and Miss Llewellyn. No one can read the account which appeared in Bell's Life without feelings of the most exquisite sympathy for the painful sufferings of the crew, particularly when it is observed that three of our fair countrywomen were doomed to brave the raging of the tempest in a disabled barque. The following extract from the abovenamed authority affords a most exciting narration of the event.

"At 6 p.m. (Wednesday), vessel 10 miles off Loop Island, under all plain sail, with squaresail set, the sailing-master requested orders from Mr. Moore as to whether he should go into the Shannon or carry on for the night. The latter course was adopted; and the squaresail hauled, mainsail close reefed, foresail stowed, and with No. 3 jib the vessel was made snug for the night. At this period there was a very heavy sea on, and every prospect of a dirty night; vessel going 11 knots. At 8 p.m. the lights of Arran Island were sighted, and the skipper hove the vessel to with her head W. and by S., with a whole gale from the southward and westward, and a tremendous sea running, vessel scending heavily, and apparently tender of her head canvas. Just as the watch was relieved at midnight, the wind lulled for a moment, and then backing out from the N.N.E., came on to blow with redoubled fury. With a terrific sea a fearful squall struck her, when with a heavy roll she laid over bodily, and scending helplessly into the succeeding wave it swept her decks, filling her jib, carried away her bowsprit close by the span-shackle, burst the forestay at the stem head, mainmast snapped short off by the partners, chain plates wrenched from the channels, mast breaking also under the eyes of the rigging, and falling with an awful crash over her port quarter, carrying away main skylight, cabin

companion, after skylight, bulwark stanchions and sheeting, and cutting down the taffrail in the port quarter midway to the counter. The scene at this time on board was perfectly awful. The skipper was struck down by the falling spars and gear, as also was the mate, and both severely injured; and the man at the tiller, James Best, of London, severely cut about the head. Mr. Moore, still undaunted, gallantly cheered on his crew; and his noble-hearted wife set an example on that fearful night which few of that crew will forget to their dying hour. Was ballast to be thrown overboard, were the wounded to be cared for, the wreck to be cleared away, the bold spirit to be sustained, or the fearful to be encouraged, there was this high-spirited lady fearless to the last."

With the vessel in the disabled state already described they encountered the whole of the night, and having hoisted signals of distress their perilous situation was noticed, at 11 a.m. on Thursday, by the John of Riga, Captain Hein, outward bound with emigrants from Galway for New York. At 6 p.m., the gale abating, the gallant captain was enabled to lower a boat and rescue the grateful sufferers, whom he landed safely at Kilrush. Who can read the above without admiration for the brave bearing of Mrs. Moore? When distress and real danger are at hand it is in the well-educated, high-minded woman that true courage and undaunted coolness reign pre-eminent.

PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF TILBURY NOGO, ESQ.;

To aim the forked bolt; while he stood trembling,
Scared at the sound, and dazzled with its brightness."
GRAY'S Agrippina.

London in the season is doubtless a very delightful place; and while the frame is vigorous, and the nerves unshaken, there is more enjoyment within the grasp of the votary of pleasure in the metropolis, than elsewhere. But let sorrow cast her shadow over the giddy trifler; let sickness poison the source of every gratification, which he has quaffed so eagerly; or let "ennui "-the certain offspring of false excitement

cloud his satiated mind, and paralyze his enfeebled energies, lo! a sudden change comes over him who erewhile seemed as if he could only exist in Pall-Mall, and, like a child flying back to its mother's quiet smile, when surfeited with the caresses and indulgences of a birth-day, he betakes himself for rest and refreshment to the inexhaustible stores of rural nature; and weary, dejected, disgusted though he be, her legitimate amusements and invigorating pursuits soon renovate his flagging spirits and drooping frame-soon bring back the bloom of health to his cheek, the lustre of contentment to his eye.

So was it with me. After a season of gaiety and adventure sufficient to undermine the constitution of any man who was neither a philosopher nor a Hercules, I felt so completely "done up" with over-exertion and over-excitement, that Doctor Dotterell found little difficulty in persuading his alarmed patient to subscribe willingly to his fiat, delivered by the leech in his most oracular tone.

"Country air, Mr. Nogo, is now the sine quâ non tonics I have tried, and as you must perceive, ineffectually. I have studied your constitution, Mr. Nogo, which is in many respects like my own. You require exercise: you require amusement-hem! and you are benefited by generous living (let me look at your tongue). You are, like myself, devoted to the sports of the field-not an uncommon taste among men of our organic vigour (the doctor weighed eight stone and a half, and was weak in proportion), who are formed for the ruder and more perilous occupations of life-(allow me to feel your pulse) -and it is my opinion, sir-I speak it advisedly-that you must immediately leave town. Science has done her best for you: I have taken care of that; and we must now trust for a perfect cure to nature. Nature, sir, without whom the whole pharmacopoeia is but a fiddle without strings!"

I was much of the little doctor's opinion as to the pharmacopoeia -whatever that imposing word may signify-and lost no time in writing to my old friend and schoolfellow, "Joe Baggs," as we called him at Eton-now the Rev. Josiah Bagshot, incumbent of Wilton Cowslips, in the diocese of Bath and Wells-proposing that I should immediately pay him a long-promised visit at his quiet retreat in that most beautiful of all the beautiful localities adorning the west of England. It is needless to say that the ci-devant Etonian's acceptance of my offer was cordial as his previous invitation had been hospitable; and if I thought Dotterell was right in ordering me out of town, whilst my lungs were still oppressed by the smoke-laden atmosphere of London, how much more was I convinced of his skill and judgment when I awoke to the delightful consciousness of restored health and returning spirits, in the pretty bedroom of my friend's snug parsonage, on the morning after my arrival! The stillness, the utter repose, so grateful after the turmoil and constant noise inseparable from the existence of streets, amounted to perfect luxury; and as I lay awake, whilst my well-drilled servant was putting out my things with the stealthiness of a midnight conspirator, and watched the sunbeams streaming through my closed window-shutters, I felt a lightness of heart- a boyish gaiety, to which I had been a stranger for months and when I did prevail on myself to get out of bed, it was with a frolicsome bound, such as had planted me on the floor of my tiny dormitory at Eton in years long since gone by, when a whole-holiday rose-as in those days it seemed always to risein cloudless magnificence; or better still, when the golden sunlight,