SPORTING.

Thames Star, Volume VII, Issue 2083, 7 September 1875, Page 2

SPORTING.

The Race for the Borough Cup.

Dear Sir—-I u?cd to do a good bit of, racing news when I was in the old country, and I daresay you have heerd my name afore this, leastways if you havn't. there be a many as has, and as I heerd you're going to have a race here on Thursday next, I thought I might as well drop down and have a look at the animals, for I've done a bit of touting in my time, and so I just sends you what my idee of the subject'is, and'if you feel disposed to give the tip to any of them as you know, why, all I can say is that you're welcome for all Sam Ohifney cares. Well this race, the Borough Cup as they calls it, is ft all-aged race, and the following as far as I can learn are all that are likely to appear .at the post come Thursday. There was nine on them, but three have been scratched, but I expect as how the six will all be there. These are j they:— Mr Kay's b c The Heron .. .. .. Blue Mr Mac Gee's b c Little Shop .. .. Green. Mr Belle's eh c Auctioneer .. Red and White Mr Shortland's gray mare Corner .. Silver Grey Mr Mill's b c filly Sawyer . ■ Brown & Black Mr Tararu's b h Gardens .. .. .. Pink Of the other three who were entered the " Joiner " had not recovered from an accident, having hit his near f«t-lock badly in one of his morning galops, and the " Constellation" could not bo got fit in time as he trains badly; while " Doctor " is being kept iff reserve, sol am informed, for the big event in February next. Of those who are likely to start I don't much fancy the Auctioneer, in spite of his good looks, though I hear as how the females is with him to a man; but bless you sir what do the likes of them know about a 'orse. " Little Shop," I hear, is backed in some quarters, but I don't much fancy him, though a good useful animal over a shorter course, and " The Heron " seems not half trained. Indeed, I heard that it was only determined to start him when, it waa known that his stable companion, " The Doctor," was not going to start. I sllall, therefore, plump for the Sawyer, Gardens, and Corner in the order named, and I expect I shall not be far wrong. Sawyer is a sturdy, compact little animal, arid Gardens' stride wilL be sure to tell, if the ground is heavy, while no one doubts the old mare's pluck.—Yours, obediently, ■ Sam Chifney.

P.S.—A mate of mine, who's aller's a dreaming,and riting rhymes, says, as how he's 'ad a dream about the race, and wants me to send them to you. If you likes to publish them, you can. That's all, I say. 8. C.

" I had a dream which was not all a dream." *" —Byron. Kcnst dv das land woe die citroyen bluhn ? Know'st thou the land where, far down in the earth, The labor of miners gives riches its birth ? Where the voice of the battery seldom is mute, . ■ And Mayor, Town Clerk, and Council ar« high In repute ? 'Tis the land of the goldficlds, where toil's not be#un Or brought to an end by the light of the sun, But where, morn and eve, well employed are the " lifts " By the coming and going of the day and night shifts. But the Thames saw another sight, When rose the sun in splendor bright On a September morn. For on that day, the ninth, a race Had long been destined to take place ; Flushed and excited was each face, E'en with the -early dawn. And fast the clang of hurrying feet Comes'through the length of Pollen street, , All eager to be there, With beating heart the race to see, ' ' Where " Council" honors wait the three First past the Judge's chair. Heedless of trade or jobbing tricks, The crowd expectant, eager fix Their glances on the gallant six, Who wait the word to start. There stand, exposed to gazer's view, The well built boast of Tararu ; And Shortland now sends, as of yore. Him who has won the race .before; Not loth th 1 Councillor's chair to fill, Comes one trained at the Steam Saw Mill; Next, fresh from out a, little shop 'S a free tho' unpaid patriot, And somewhat fleshy for the course The Doctor starts his second horse ; While, dear to many a fair one's eye, Renownsd for ac^t of gallantry, The ladies' hope doth last appear, «. Yclept by some the " Auctioneer," All keen to play his part. In racing strange, tho Judge's chair Is amply filled by M. le Maire, The winner to proclaim; And loud each ardent backer' shouts His cherished favorite's name. But see they're at the post and hark, -, The flag is dropped and off they «tart With fierce and eager pace, And nearer fast and nearer With rapid stride they come, Aud faster still, and still more fast, Spurting along too good to last ■ Tho ladies' pet the rest hath passed Within a mile from home. But Shortland's Corner on him gains, And every nerve and muscle strains, Still doth Little Shop persevere With heart unknown to dastard fear, : Tho'now the goal is'nigh. The goal which each hopes first to win Corner to falter doth begin, Auctioneer wavers in his stride And Tararu's hope gets to his side, And thundering fiercely in their track I see the well known Saw-mill crack Come furiously along.

The shouts that for a space did fail, Now trebly thundsring swelled Thames vale, And loud the far Miranda's shore Re-echoed back the miner's roar, And Corner is the cry.

But e'er the shout has died away List to another loud hurray, Sec Gardens' beaming eye. His backers all cast glance of pride Upon their champion's slashing stride.

He'll win. No ! however abhorrent, Tararu men must swallow their boast, For borne with a rush like a torrent^ Sawye.i wixs by a xose ox the tost. Gardens, though he tried all ho knew, Content must be with number two ; The chair still left as number three Must be assigned to plucky C ; 'Neath Zero now the hopes must drop Of those who backed the Little Shop; The Heron, when the race is done, Comes puffed and breathless in alone ; Th* Auctioneer spite of ladies' smiles Can't carry twelve stone o'er two miles; Reluctant owns his chance is o'er. Then ' I awoke and rhymed no more.

Niggeb Spelling Match. —The culled folks of Cincinnati have had a spelling match, in which, among others, a good old aunty of 80 participated. The climax was reached when the Her. James Johnson, being invited to spell "nosegay," started off with " n-o-u-s ; " then seeing the fog-horn uplifted to blow him down, suddenly corrected himself to " n-o-ii-g-b-s-g a-y," and stepped down and out amid tremendous rounds of " Hi dar," and applause..