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you are thinking that the world will say it was my money; but never mind the world-hear what I say. And indeed, dear, I was a little cunning; but you taught me how to win you when you said ' that love always anticipates its own nature;' and so then I began to love you directly as fast as ever I could, on purpose that I might earn a large return. You do pay me pretty well, but you know that me a great deal more."

" I do! I do!" exclaimed the gentleman, be spent in paying you."

you owe

"and my whole life shall

We verily believe there was a tear in the corner of his eye, but we suppose we must be wrong, because we know that there was a smile upon his lips.

Just at that moment the carriage stopped at the identical door which the poor gentleman had left six weeks before. The children were at the windows straining their little necks which should see them first; and there he was-there was papa; and he had brought them all, and more than all that he had promised-two sacks of pears -and two half dozens of new frocks-and the very identical Italian greyhound—and a new mamma, who began to love them directly with all her heart, and they loved her in return fondly and fervently; indeed so did everybody except the cross servant, but the more cross the cross servant grew the kinder grew the lady, so that by the time the whole family returned to the country, which was as soon as ever the gentleman out of black could arrange his affairs-and that he found not the least difficulty in doing, now that he had plenty of money-by the time, we say, that they had all got back into the country, why the cross servant loved the lady who had made them all so happy, and brought them to such a beautiful home, as well as she could love anything in the world.

THE DEAD.

BY MRS. EDWARD THOMAS.

HE sleeps! yet how serene!
How calm, how tranquil now;
As if no care had ever been,
To darken o'er that brow!

He sleeps! and yet no dream
Plays o'er that silenced brain;
To light with its fantastic gleam
The scenes of life again!

He sleeps! and that fond eye,
Beaming on all so dear!
So bright in grateful ecstasy,
So prone to pity's tear-

Will never break the mystic seal,
So awfully imprest;

Till trump of seraphims reveal
The glory of the blest!

TATTERSALL'S AND THE TURF.*

BY THE AUTHOR OF "RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF THE LORDS AND COMMONS," &c.

"TATTERSALL'S! Who has not heard of the name? And yet how few can associate anything definite with it? It is true, that most people have a faint notion that it has something to do with horses; but beyond that their knowledge does not extend. In the ear of the sportsman and of the votary of the turf, the very sound of Tattersall's' has a charm of which none but themselves can have any idea. An illustrative chapter on 'Tattersall's and the Turf' will, therefore, I am sure, prove highly interesting to the general reader.

"Tattersall's is a large house on the right-hand side of Hyde Park Corner, as you enter London from Knightsbridge. It is a place which answers the double purpose of an auction-mart for horses, carriages, gigs, &c., and for all descriptions of betting on the result of the leading horseraces which take place; not to mention various other modes of gambling. To the betting feature of the establishment I shall refer more particularly hereafter.

"In going into Tattersall's, you pass down from Hyde Park Corner about forty yards, and enter a narrow way, very mews-like in appearance, which you proceed along until you come to a folding door, on your right hand, of considerable dimensions. This door opens into the yard, as it is called, which is about sixty or seventy feet in length, and fifty in breadth, and which, on great days, is so densely populated by the admirers of horse-flesh and the votaries of the turf, that you can hardly find standing room. On ordinary occasions, its chief tenants consist of a set of persons who may be designated as a kind of hangers-on. Some of them are grooms, who have lost or relinquished their situations, and at present have nothing to do; very probably have become so indolent in their habits, that they would decline to do anything were employment offered them. Give them as much porter as they can swill, and allow them to talk with each other about horses, jockeys, and other sporting matters, and depend on it they will never dream of bettering their condition.' Others of the groups who are to be seen in the yard at Tattersall's, are men who were sporting characters in their day, but who, having sported away all their money, can no longer indulge in their propensities for betting. Their appearance at once tells you that they have seen more prosperous times. But even now, in their altered and reduced circumstances, the ruling passion, an affection for sporting matters, retains all its pristine vigour. They lounge about the scene of their former doings in the sporting world. It may seem passing strange, but it is nevertheless true, that they derive gratification from the circumstance of being thus suffered to remain in the place in which they were ruined, and in seeing the persons by whom their ruin was effected. Among the other persons who haunt the yard at Tattersall's, are a fair sprinkling of broken-down shopkeepers, and bankrupt tradesmen, most of whom had either a partiality for gambling on horse-races, or carried on a too extensive intercourse with the bottle.

*

"There is a sort of piazza at the further part of the left side of the yard, which shelters from the rain a number of vehicles of all descriptions *From an unpublished work, entitled "Travels in Town," which will appear shortly, and with some of the early sheets of which we have been favoured.

which are there constantly exposed for sale. From the farthest end of this piazza, there branches off to the left a lengthened sort of lane, covered at the top, which is set apart for the same purpose. As many as sixty or seventy vehicles, from the splendid carriage down to the humble gig, are frequently to be seen in this place-all intended for sale. I have sometimes thought that if some of the carriages which are here, could write their autobiographies, we should have some strange disclosures made to us respecting the rise, progress, and downfal of the votaries of fashion. Where now are those to whom these carriages once belonged, and in which they lolled about in luxurious ease, never dreaming of what the end was to be? Some are doubtless, after being reduced in circumstances, in their graves; having, perhaps, died of a broken heart. Others, it may be, are at this moment living in poverty and exile. Worse still-who knows but some of them may be the inmates of a workhouse?

"On the right side of the yard there is also a piazza, which, like the other, is eight or ten feet in breadth, and which extends from the entrance up to the corner where Mr. Tattersall, or Tat, as he is usually, in familiar language, called, ascends his pulpit to knock down' horses. This is the space of ground on which the horses which are put up to the hammer are usually exhibited to the gaze of bidders and others, and where, if any one wishes to see a particular animal trotted, he will find Mr. Tattersall willing and ready to give the word of command, to gratify his wishes. Along this piazza, while the sale is going on, there is always a crowd of persons; some of whom, by venturing too near when the animal is being trotted, occasionally receive rather severe kicks.

"On the right hand, on entering the yard, is the counting-house. In the front, in the right-hand corner, is the spot in which Mr. Tattersall places and mounts his rostrum, when about to put some of the fine animals' which fall into his hands, to the hammer; and on the left is the most important place of all, namely, the betting-room, in which, as will be presently seen, many thousands of families have been ruined by the gambling habits of their representatives, whether in the capacity of husbands, fathers, or brothers. This room one would suppose to be a spacious and comfortable apartment, it being, to all intents and purposes, a place for gambling on a large scale; for everybody is aware that the gambling-houses in the metropolis are all fitted up, not only in a comfortable, but most of them in a style of the greatest splendour. Not so in the case of the betting-room at Tattersall's. It is on the ground-floor, and is a gloomy-looking, imperfectly ventilated, confined apartment, without a carpet, without any furniture worthy of the name, without anything, indeed, which could impart to it an air of comfort. And yet so intent are the various persons who frequent it, on their gambling pursuits, that they are seldom heard to grumble at the want of comfortable accommodation. It is often crowded-it is always so on great days-with one of the most motley assemblages of human beings ever compressed into an equally limited space. There the proud and, in other places, overbearing nobleman is on a footing of perfect equality with the clownish fishmonger, who spends most of those hours not devoted to business, in the taproom of some humble wine-vaults. The foppish young aristocrat, on the previous night the glory of Almack's, the admired of all the lady admirers in the brilliant assemblage who frequent that place,-may be seen, not only submitting to be unceremoniously jostled about by a bevy of porkbutchers, who, as if actuated by some unaccountable sympathy, are all forcing their way to the door at once, but familiarly conversing and betting with some rough uncultivated Smithfield drover.

There are, in short, in the betting-room at Tattersall's, on all important occasions, every variety of persons, from the high-titled refined aristocrat down to the individuals whose callings in life are universally

regarded as among the most disreputable which are known; and all, as just stated, are there on a footing of the most entire equality. Those who are for levelling all distinctions in society-who are the advocates of a social, if not a political, republic-would enjoy a gratification of the first order, were they to spend an hour or two, on any of the great days, at Tattersall's. They could not wish a better practical exemplification of their principles than they would witness there.

"It is right to mention, in thus adverting to the indiscriminate commingling together of peers and plebeians at Tattersall's, that of late years the personal attendance of noblemen has not been so great as it used to be. Many of our sporting peers appear at Tattersall's by proxy; that is to say, they appoint agents, whom they authorise to bet and to gamble for them.

"The number of subscribers to Tattersall's is about three hundred. The subscription money is moderate enough, being only one guinea a year.

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"The precise time when Tattersall's was instituted is not known—a circumstance which may be accounted for from the fact, that like many other celebrated establishments, it arose from small beginnings. It is, however, pretty generally understood to have originated about eighty or ninety years ago. Its founder was the grandfather of the present Mr. Tattersall. He was looked on as one of the most experienced men, in all matters pertaining to horse-flesh, in the kingdom. He commenced business simply as an auctioneer in the horse and carriage line; and in that line soon obtained an extensive celebrity, as well as got into a most lucrative trade. He also made a deal of money by the successful running of one of his race-horses called Highflyer. Eventually he built an elegant mansion, which, with the view of perpetuating the memory of the animal through whose achievements on the turf he had gained most of the money expended on it, he called 'Highflyer Hall.' Mr. Tattersall afterwards became a proprietor of the Morning Post' newspaper, and derived a considerable yearly revenue from it. He also purchased the copyright of the English Chronicle,' but whether it turned out a profitable speculation or otherwise, I am not able to say. Mr. Tattersall, at his death, left a handsome fortune, as well as the business, to his son. The latter also managed the establishment, with great success, for a long course of years. On his death it fell into the hands of his son, the present Mr. Tattersall. Mr. Tattersall has a brother who has an interest in the business, but he is comparatively little known to the public. Nobody who ever saw Mr. Tattersall presiding in his rostrum during the sale of horses, can resist the conviction that Nature intended him for an auctioneer of those noble animals.' In the rostrum he is obviously in his proper sphere. He enters on his avocations with heart and soul. He has no ideas of happiness beyond the auction-yard. The very sight of the hammer, or rather of himself wielding the hammer, is to him an enjoyment of the first magnitude. His own voice, when expatiating in terms of praise of any horse that 'is to be sold,' has inexpressible charms to his ear. There is not a sound in the world that is half so musical to him,-except it be the sound of some voice whose proprietor is making a handsome bidding' for the animal in the market. Mr. Tattersall, though a man of few words compared with the voluble school of auctioneers who have Mr. George Robins as their head, is a very adroit and successful knight of the hammer. He is dexterous in discovering who among all who surround him are the parties that really mean to buy, and to them in succession he earnestly addresses himself. His very look, unaccompanied with a single word, has, in innumerable cases, appealed so forcibly to some bystander, as to draw out another guinea for the horse,' even when the person had fully resolved in his own mind not to advance, on any earthly consideration, a sixpence more. He holds in utter contempt the bombastical and unintelligible

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diction of Mr. George Robins: he not only deems it in the most miserable taste, but he regards it as a complete waste of time on the part of the auctioneer, and a positive insult to the persons assembled. Besides, he is convinced that, by his own plain homely but expressive style, he 'fetches' a far better price for his fine animals' than he would by the most highsounding clap-trap sentences that human ingenuity could string together. He usually contents himself with mentioning the pedigree of the horse, praising him as one of the finest ever known; affecting to be quite shocked at the idea of selling him at the price offered; assuring the company that it would be positively giving him away, which of course neither he nor the proprietor can afford to do; and regretting that he cannot bid himself..

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"When, however, he has any first-rate horses entrusted to his care,' especially if he see some noblemen or other parties around him who are likely to bite,' he deviates from his usual course, and tries his hand at a little flattery of these persons, trusting to the potent effects of that commodity in procuring some better biddings' for the animal. There, my lords and gentlemen,' will Tat, exclaim in such cases; 'there's a chance for you. You'll never get such a chance again. My lord duke, I know your stud is unrivalled; but this beautiful, this unrivalled mare, would be an honour and an ornament to it. Do you say three hundred and fefty* guineas for her? Three hundred and fefty guineas are bid: thank you, my lord duke, I admire your taste. She possesses rare blood; just only look at the symmetry of her form; she is perfection itself. I could, but I will not, dwell on her matchless beauties,-they are not to be described. Only three hundred and fefty guineas bid for her. My lord duke, she will be yours if some one does not- Three hundred and sixty guineas are bid for her. I knew that she is too great a prize to be suffered to escape at such a price. Really, my lord duke, with your lordship's known skill and taste in horse-flesh, should be sorry if you allowed such an opportunity of proving that you possess this taste, to pass. Three hundred and eighty guineas bid for her; thank you again, my lord duke; I'm sure you'll not repent your bargain. Does any one say more for her? Three hundred and ninety guineas are bid. You see, my lord duke, your admiration of this beautiful and excellent mare is not peculiar. She will positively adorn your lordship's stud, as she did that of royalty when she belonged to it. Who says the four hundred guineas? She's just a-going. One moment longer, and off she goes. Her action, my lord duke, is beyond all praise; she has no vice; she is a perfect paragon in every way you can take her. I must knock her down, my lord duke; but I would really be sorry to see you lose so noble and charming a creature for the sake of ten paltry guineas. Just say the four hundred guineas, and she's yours. Thank you, my lord duke, for adopting my advice. I'm sure you'll never repent your bargain.. Going-gone. She is yours, my lord duke.'

"Mr. Tattersall is a dark-looking man, with a rather full face, wearing a reserved expression. He is slightly under the middle size, rather stoutishly made; and very lame. His age appears to be from fifty to about fifty-five. The number of horses he sometimes sells in one day is almost incredible. There are instances on record, in which the number has been as high as one hundred and eighty. Upwards of one hundred is quite a common occurrence, to say nothing of carriages, gigs, harness, &c. When the work in either way is heavy, he is assisted by his brother.

"Mr. Tattersall has the reputation of being an excellent-hearted man. He is a great favourite with all who frequent his premises, or have occasion to do business with him. His brother, who is considerably younger, has a very gentlemanly appearance.

*Tattersall invariably substitutes the 'e' for the 'i' in pronouncing the words 'fifty, thirty,' and so forth."

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