a coming man in the bowling department at Cheltenham, and the official notice of him-'medium pace, with a difficult break, and uses his head '-reads well.

R. E. Bush. A fine bat, with strong defence and good hitting power: hardly ever failed to score. An excellent field, and has been useful as an underhand bowler. Showed great judgment at times as Captain, notably in the Cheltenham match. (Has left.)

A. H. Heath. A very good bat: thoroughly steady, but hits well when he gets a chance. His innings against Cheltenham was played without a chance. He fell off in his fielding at the beginning of the season, but quite recovered it afterwards. A useful change-bowler, both with

lobs' and fast round. (Has left.)

T. W. Stubbs. Improved in his batting, and made runs now and then when most wanted hits hard, but still wants defence. An exceedingly fast bowler, very good when straight, but inclined to sacrifice precision to pace. A moderate field. (Has left.)

H. Fowler. A fine free-hitting bat, whom the wet ground this summer did not suit ought to study defence and patience. A good field and fair medium-pace bowler. Captain for 1876.

A. D. Greene. Very unlucky this season with the bat; a very fine field, especially at long stop, and has won the prize given to the best field in the eleven.

VOL. XXVIII.

-NO. 190.

E

A. George. A fair change-bowler (left-handed) and quick field at point very weak as a bat. (Has left.)

A. H. Evans. A very good bowler; medium-pace with a difficult break, and uses his head well. A free bat and good hitter, but rather too anxious to get runs. A good field.

W. Muir. A very steady and good bat, but wants more freedom, though he hits well to leg. An exceedingly good field and long stop. (Has left.) W. K. Darley. A steady bat with strong defence, but fell off rather towards the end of the season. A good field.

A. W. Leach. A very hard hitter, but wants defence: a good field near the wicket. (Has left.)

G. S. Saxton. A steady bat with fine reach, of which he does not make sufficient use: should play with more confidence: a fair field.

"OUR VAN.'

THE INVOICE.-November Notes by Flood and Field.

WE believe that many excellent and worthy people still think racing is over as soon as the Houghton Handicap has been decided on that miserable Saturday, when, in dirt and discomfort, a prevalence of mud, and an absence of money, broken in pocket and spirits, the small band of noble sportsmen faithful to that really bitter ending seek the G.E.R. special and bid a six months' farewell to the beloved heath. That it ought to end there and then we have not the slightest doubt. Flat-racing in November should yield the pas to cross-country events-three or four of an afternoon, say-and instead of our shivering on Carholme and Aintree, and seeing our few remaining fivers and tenners taking to themselves wings over the water of Warwick Common, we ought to be witnessing Grand National and other trials. This we do, by-the-way, only they are often trials in which the trying, like the part of Hamlet, is omitted; but of this more anon. We only wish to observe here that November racing is foolishness-an opinion that has been gaining strength with us for the last six or seven years. The heavy ground upsets all calculation, for mud is an enemy to form; and the back end'-euphonious term-was invented for the bookmakers.

But we must do our dreid '-whatever that means-and make the best of it. We made the best of it among the floods of Worcester by taking as good care of ourselves as that cheerful little hostelry the Bell would allow us, and living above the weather-a great point this. The Bell, in common with other Worcester hotels, is favourable to this order of things, and encourages us to live as much as possible. There was the Race Ordinary, presided over by the worthy Chairman of the Race Committee, Mr. Barnett, whereat we drank Old Fashion's health and her young and spirited owner's; and to those who had backed Old Fashion the fiz' had an extra flavour. And there also was, one evening, a little preliminary canter at the Bell of a new glee club, which Mr. Pinket, the proprietor, had established there, and that also helped to give the weather another floorer. Then it was discovered to be some gentleman's natal day, and he kept it to all comers in stewed kidneys and champagne, which, coming as a sort of preliminary luncheon at 11.30, was another great blow to the elements. In fact, the water-there was a lot of it on Pitchcroft, though we are bound to say nowhere else went to 1,000 to 15 in conse

ence; and if Industrious had not fallen into it, which rather checked the viviality of the afternoon, goodness knows what would have happened. This and one or two other little occurrences, such as a run of seconds,' &c., pt us from getting too much above ourselves—a fault in man as well as corse. The sport was not very much, but, looking at the counter-attractions Brighton, Lewes, and Lincoln, it was better than we expected. The oss-country season could hardly be said to have commenced auspiciously, for the strings were on' in one or two instances; but that is what we must xpect in November. After Croydon, Captain Armstrong is not so much in the saddle as he was before. When the Turf millennium arrives-the halcyon period in which we shall do no wrong-neither sharp, rope, shunt, or thieve, Captain Armstrong will have disappeared from the busy scene. But he is very much about just now, and we hear he has got an Irish cousin of the same name, described to us as an out-and-outer- -one that can give his English relative stones. Well, it's a wicked world, but it is not so bad as its enemies and some writers depict. We were reading a novel the other day from the pen of a very prolific author, in which, describing London scenes on the eve of the Derby Day-and not a bad deseription either-we came upon this appalling sentence: Now cheating, in some form or other, is the 'soul of the Turf.' We dropped the book in horror, and thought of disclosing the author's naine to the Messrs. Weatherby, in order that something might be done to him; but, on second thoughts, we let him off, in the hopes that in the second edition of 'Mirk Abbey' he will retract his calumnious state

ment.

But to resume. The chief feature of Worcester was the run of good fortune that fell to the lot of Mr. Liebert, a young gentleman who has not been long on the Turf (his colours were only registered last year), but who now, with Old Fashion and two or three others, won four races and ran two seconds. Sir Morgan Crofton won a steeplechase with Lady York, a chestnut pony-for she is little more-by Umpire, very clever, a rare goer through dirt. The other events were not very important, and we cannot help thinking that the Committee would do much better with two days than with three. The state of the ground and the gloomy weather were, of course, much against them on this occasion, but it is impossible to avoid seeing that Lincoln, with its rich stakes and the amount of patronage bestowed upon it by Mr. Chaplin, is injuring their meeting. We should like to see three days' good sport at Worcester, as was formerly the case, before so many November additions to the Calendar had sprang into existence, but we must accept the situation as we find it. Our private ideas on the subject of November racing we have just expressed; but a curious thing it is, and showing how strong is the passion for the sport arising from one cause or other-filthy lucre, mere gambling, &c.—that in a month as hostile to outdoor enjoyment as any in the year, there should be such an amount of racing, and, as a rule, large fields.

Journeying down to Liverpool was something like going through an inland sea; and if some wicked thoughts came into our head to the effect it was a pity Aintree was not in Lincolnshire, or close to the Trent or the Ouse (the latter, for choice), why, we promptly dismissed them. The lights of Liverpool, where, by-the-way, we solemnly believe it always rains, revive us, the hospitable doors of the Royal open to our bidding, and the love of the turtle' is a pleasing remembrance. A good many horses were reported as arrived, and the Messrs. Topham were in high spirits about the success of their meeting. It looked, indeed, as if our sentiments were not shared by the motley crowd of owners and trainers who flocked to Aintree with the

hope, we presume, of ending the season with a balance in their favour. Here and there we met men who cursed the weather and the racing freely, but we generally discovered that they had backed second or third instead of first, so we could hardly reckon upon them as supporters. The weather was abominable the first day, the sport so-so. Mr. Dalglish began a (to him) most successful week by winning the November Hurdle Handicap with Solon, thus repeating the performance of that day twelvemonth, and Mr. H. Hall again running second, though Annie was substituted this time for Waterloo. The best thing of the day was Marigny in the Waterloo Welter, for, though he is anything but a good one himself, he was bottom weight among a lot worse than or as bad as himself. Moreover, he had Tom Cannon to ride him, so there was a great hurry to get on; and as nothing else was backed, why Marigny won, only by a head though, in front of La Friponne; but still we think there was a bit in hand. Oxonian is beginning to show symptoms that he has had nearly enough, and the old horse seems to be losing his dash and speed. He got first off, as usual, in the Mersey Cup, but he could not keep his place, and was caught in the straight by both Magnet and Clara, finishing a bad third to the former, to whom he was giving upwards of 4 stone, it is true. As odds of to I were laid on Oxonian freely, this was a heavy blow; and the defeat of Electra, who does not seem to like the mud, in the Knowsley Nursery, was another. Lady Patricia was beaten by Modena, too, in the Stewards' Cup, so, altogether, it was not a very cheerful time; but we came up to it the next morning and reached Aintree quite soon enough to lay 4 to 1 on Lowlander for the Bickerstaffe Cup, if we had been so minded. Some people backed Poursuivant, we believe; why, they best know, as the old horse was only giving him 19 lbs., which he could have done on his 'head.' There was no great show for the Sefton Steeplechase, except that Revenge looked very much like a mare in foal, and, nevertheless, was made a favourite, we suppose, on the strength of Mr. Garrett Moore riding. Mr. Thomas had a mount on a cocktail-looking grey called Royal Charlie, with whom the pace and the fences quickly disagreed. Peter Simple, who might have won if he had stood up, took to refusing early, and then fell—the upshot of it all being that Daybreak, with Mr. Dalglish up, won in a canter, from the stopping Revenge. We fancy Pride of Kildare, here ridden by her owner, will see a better day some time or other, but when that will be we are ignorant. In the Liverpool Nursery, Lizzie Distin showed us what a good two-year-old can do, irrespective of weight, by cantering away from her field, which included St. Agnes, said by the man in the street to be the same as Hesper-probably as big a taradiddle as ever was told-Electra, the Tragedy colt, &c.; and Captain Machell's stable pulled off a good thing in the Wednesday Stakes with Pacha.

Liverpool Cup! Our friend Falco' has recalled to our memories that, some twenty years ago, this great boon to the racing world was originated by the various captains of the American steamers trading with Liverpool and the stevedores of that port. We are rather dubious about a stevedore, therefore will let him be; but an American captain we know, or fancy we know, something about. Almighty cuteness is generally regarded as his foible, and a man who could get to the weather side of one of these salts' would be entitled to the very V.C. of sharpness and clever trickery. We wonder if these gallant tars, when they endowed this racing prize, did, by some cunning art, fling around it a portion of their own matchless cutenesss-a cuteness that sometimes was divided by a very frail partition between it and a much uglier word? We wonder if they foresaw, and chuckled as they foresaw, how Britisher would seek to 'best' his brother

We

Britisher in the future years, and how the trophy should come to be almost synonymous with robberies, scratchings, milkings, and the many dirty practices of our national sport? These terrible captains left us a goodly legacy, and we must say the seed sown by them has borne goodly fruit. Some of the fantastic tricks played by actors in the periodical Liverpool Cup drama would do credit to gentlemen from Kansas, and earn a good degree at San Francisco. We need not go through the catalogue, which most racing men have by heart, we daresay; and we need only add that '75 will be noted as the Fraulein and Wizard year, and the good captains, either here or in Hades, in the body or in the spirit, will chuckle more than ever. After our criticisms upon some of the Newmarket doings of last month, it would be manifestly unfair to pass over in silence the transactions relative to the Liverpool Cup, especially those connected with the now notorious Wizard.' hardly know how it is, but for years past the race for the Liverpool Cup has given rise to proceedings which we may call unsavoury, to use the mildest term which occurs to us; but never has the subject been so forcibly brought home to the public generally as in the case of the horse above alluded to. Backed in earnest for the Metropolitan Stakes at Epsom, The Wizard bolted out of the course, and was then sent into retirement at Lewes. That his supposed merits had reached the ears of the handicappers is very evident, and he was by no means thrown into the Liverpool Cup with 6 st. 6 lbs. upon his back. However, within a few days of the race, the horse was sold by his then owner, and the purchase-money was paid by a cheque of Mr. Liebert, who owns other horses on the Turf. Who his absolute owner or owners may be seems at present a mystery; but considering the fact of the cheque above mentioned, and of Mr. Liebert's having telegraphed on the day of the race to London that the horse would run for the Cup, we think he has acted ill-advisedly in not coming forward to state by whose authority The Wizard failed to put in an appearance at Liverpool. It was understood that the management of the horse there was in the hands of a Mr. Marshall, whose tastes for sport (?) are not confined to horse-racing, but have occasionally displayed themselves in the atmosphere of the cock-pit. Whether he had acquired absolute ownership of The Wizard or not, we cannot say, but as the horse was declared by his trainer to be well on the day, we leave it to our readers to decide where blame ought to rest, with the remark that from what we know of the facts of the case, we are in a position to acquit Mr. Turner of any complicity whatever in this dubious transaction. As the matter now stands the scandal is an undoubted one; and be the horse a good one or the reverse, we fervently hope that the handicappers will bear him in mind when prosecuting their labours in 1876, 1877, and 1878. It is only by firmly marking their opinion of transactions like the above that lessees can hope to insure entries in their handicaps from straightforward owners of horses, who, scorning such proceedings on their own parts, object to being asked to compete with animals that have been treated by others in the manner referred to. As, however, out of evil some infinitesimal amount of good frequently arises, we point with pleasure to the fact, that the heavy training and corn bill incurred by The Wizard had to be settled before his removal from his old quarters, so that the worthy relict of one of our most respected trainers will have no cause to lament the exodus of this Wizard of the South from her premises. Whether or not the horse may ever prove worth the amount of the bill in question is another matter; we have our own opinions upon the point, though it is no duty of the Van' driver to peep into futurity. We are content to mark our sense of what has happened, and to hope that we shall have no