CAP AND JACKET

THE GREAT MATCH

The following description of the great race for the Epsom Gold Cup, between Bend Or and Robert the Devil, will be read with interest. It is from the pen of John Corlett, editor of the Sporting Times. He says :— No such sight has been seen on Epsom Downs in our time as the great race to-day between Robert the Devil and Bend Or. It will stand forth in years to come as an event of which old men will speak. There was no contamination. The little things that couldn't swim kept away, aud the two giants were saddled alone, Archer and Cannon after weighing walked into the Paddock. " Peel my pulse," said the jockey of Hambletoninn to the plunging owner of the winner of that great match. "Does my pulse beat faster than usual ?" said Cannon to us as he bared his wrist. "Am I excited ?" said Archer, as we pressed our finger on his veins. The two men looked and felt ns though they were merely about to ride in a common selling race for the benefit of auctioneers. At Waterloo Station, as we went down to Epsom, the owner of Eobert the Devil was deep in converse with Sir George Chetwynd. Mr Brewer did not look as though he were to be one of the great actors in the day's performance. Each party was confident to a degree, but Lord Alington's courage required a good deal of screwing up to the sticking point. The Dnke of Westminster was all afire, and eager for the iray. Hurrying back to the Stand in order to get a good perch, we shook hands with John Delacour, not noticing for the moment that he was with the Prince of Wales. *' How will it go ?" said Mr Delacour. " Stand a Derby winner, sir, on his own ground !" we replied. The previous race having fallen through, Mr McGeorge stood like a dummy waiting for horses that had never been weighed out. When at length the fact had dawned vipon him he hurried away to the Derby starting-post, and, the day being hot and he very portly, he no longer weighs what he did. No one could make out why there was any delay, and the two jockeys actually rode their horses up the hill in search of the starter. At length he came, and, the flajr being dropped, away went the horses on their journey. We all knew that Kobert the Devil was to make the running,- and as he strode along through the Bushes his gigantic stride quite dwarfed Bend Or, and he is not a pigmy. Coming down the hill Archer "feinted," but all the way he rode his Derby race over again. At the Bell he made his effort, and for the remainder of the account read the story of Bend Or's Derby. This time it was a neck, before it was a head ; but this time it might have been more than a neck. We shouted "Bend Or," and we yelled "Bend Or," having gone for him ; and when we could yell no longer, we suddenly recollected ourselves and soliloquised, " John, you ass, you hadn't a bob on the race ;,' and we went our way saying, "betting on a race like that wns profanation." The time was 2min. 40sec. — 3sec. faster than the fastest Derby. _■__ A