LONDON GOSSIP.

Evening Star, Issue 9771, 30 July 1895, Page 4

LONDON GOSSIP.

\ [Fbom Odr Special Correspondent.] London, June T. the one thousand pounds p.kwahd pok orton. Apro]‘Os of the Orton confessions now proooidiiig from week to week in a Sunday paper, it is interesting to recall that the late Governor of Now Zealand’s cousin, Mr Guildford Onslow, was the chief supporter of the Claimant in the days of his fame, and squandered a goodly fortune in Tiehborne bands. After the incarceration of the “ unfortunate nobleman ” (as some idiot of the period felicitously christened him) in Dartmoor, Mr Onslow and the Sir Roger’s credulous friends, who were still fairly u microns, offered £l,«*HO for the discovery and production of Arthur Orton. Very soon after it was put about the man had been found in several places, a specially circumstantial story coming from New Zealand. In this connection I saw last week an autograph letter from John Bright written m July, 1875, to a friend, which I obtained leave to copy, He remarked : “ You may rely upon it that Arthur Orton will not come from New Zealand. During the trial and since CI,OUO was offered for him, and u ibody could produce him. It was a large bribe, and I only wonder it hasn’t brought over a score of Ortons. The real Arthur Ortou is in Dartmoor, and nobody, I susqiect, knows this, better than some of those who arc pretending to exploit him from New Zealand. I have before me now the handwriting of the real Roger Tiehborne, of the real Arthur Orton, and of the convict, and this alone is sufficient to convince any man of common sense and observation what is the ruth in the case. ’ TD'll DOUSE DATES. It the Orion confessions arc credible, which there are many reasons for doubling, they show how wonderfully accurate and near the truth the conclusions formed by the’prosecution were all through. I prefer, however, to believe that the Claimant is making up his precious narrative less from memory than from reports of his two trials. By the way, people are always quarrelling over the dates of tho Tiehborne trials, etc. It may therefore be of interest to set down a few of the leading ones for reference. Roger Charles Tiehborne (the real man) Was born IBJJ, and lost at sea in the Bella in 1854. In 1865 Lady Tiehborne, persuaded her son was alive, advertised for h ; m. In 1866 Orton became Sir Roger at Wagga Wagga, and the following year was recognised by Lady Tiehborne as her sou in 'Paris. Chancery proceedings culminated on May 11, 1871, in the trial of Tiehborne v. Lushington, before Chief Justice Bovill, in the Court of Common Pleas. Serjeant Ballantinc led for the Claimant and Sir John Coleridge for the guardians of the present Tiehborne baronet, then an infant. The Claimant's examination and <-rossexamination occupied twenty-two days and Sir J. Coleridge's speed) sixteen days. Un the tilh March, 187—, which was the l"3rd day of the trial, the Claimant was nonsuited. These law proceedings cost ifii.MMiT. () n the following day Orton was arrested, but on April 23, 1872, got bail. On the same day his trial fur perjury commenced before Lord Chief Justice Gockburn ,vul Justices Mcllor ami Lush. It lasted till 28lh February, 1*74, when Orton was sentenced to fourteen years’ penal servitude. This criminal trial is the longest known in English annals. Mr Hawkins, Q.C., conducted the Crown case, and Dr Kencaly the defence. I.A DIVA. Madame Adelina Patti, despite all her virtuous resolutions not to “lag superfluous" "U the lyric stage, is, like most of her kind, unable to bring herself to retire. Nor can certain folks see why she should do so whilst like Druriolanus can lie found wiilinu to give her £SOO a night. Apart, however, from financial ■*r>nsiderati<-.ns. which Patti is wealthy enough to ignore, it seems a sad pity that the once unequalled queen of song should willingly contrast her worn-out voice with Melba’s superb organ, now at at its best. They arc to sing together next week in 1 Don > •iot.intii.' Patti, of course, playing Zerf|nu to Edouard De Reskc’s Don un i the < htario of Alvarez. A I ori’.T OF CRIMINAL Al’t EAI.. The idea that there should be some tribunal to which a person convicted and sentenced at the ordinary criminal courts could appeal has gained a very firm hold upon tho public mind in the Old Country. A Bill is even new before Parliament the object of which is the creation of a Court of Criminal Appeal. It is, however, not likely that such a measure will become law, for Her Majesty’s judges are unanimous in opposition thereto. Their opinion, as voiced by Mr Justice Cranlham at the Kent Assizes, is that the formation of such a court is wholly unnecessary, and would be productive of much harm. Appeals of the most trivial character would, they aver, be taken before the new tribunal, and the rehearing of such cases would involve enormous cost and waste of time. Mr Grantham referred to the fact that the Home Secretary was petitioned to amend sentences at the rate of about 4,UO*J per annum, but only interfered with about 10 per cent, of the decisions. He regarded this mode of appeal / as far preferable to the one the Bill sought to establish, and opined that such a great change in the law of the land as the Bill would bring about would render the trials in the ordinary criminal courts much less careful and solemn. The objections to a Criminal Court of Appeal are doubtless very strong, but so are the arguments in favor of a revising court. Mr Grantham provided one himself by giving a man convicted of obtaining 3lb oi meat under false pretences the ferocious sentence of three years’ imprisonment. THE COST UK I'E.U E. General Tiirr, a veteran soldier, who has served in many a hard campaign, has been giving a Greek newspaper his views on the burden imposed on Europe by the armed peace. The article in which they are embodied in the ‘ Messagcr d’Athenes’ is entitled ‘What Prince Bismarck Costa Us’— ■vvKich is giving the tlcsvil something more than his clue. According to the general’s i• deulations the maintenance of peace in Europe—or, as he prefers to term it, “ arnu d terrorism” —has involved an outlay of five thousand million pounds during the past, live and twenty years. This enormous sum may not be deemed too much to pay for the blessing it has secured to us, but, in spite of it, we cannot lie sure of peace for a single month. “ A clumsy telegram ” may, as the general puts it, ignite the vast mass of explosive material which lies ready tu be fired, and bring about the dreaded explosion. Tho war, it is agreed, would not i>:• lout.', hut supposing it to last six months, Euiupe would be called upon to spend £1,2bi.1,0*10,000 more, and every soldier killed would have cost £62,0*J0 So says Uonornl Tiirr, and even if his figures are considerably exaggerated it remains true that the European nations are groaning uniler a military load such as never oppressed the civilised world before. And there seems no immediate prospect of a lightening of the burden. Universal dislunvament seems the only way out of the peril, but the man is not yet bom who will see the accomplishment of that. ■\ WOMAN who WORKED. The news of the death of Miss Emily Faithfull will be received with regret all the world over. (She was a champion of the light of her stx to work in the days when a woman required more than ordinary courage ' ■> venture out of the beaten track ; but she differed widely from those creatures who have won tor their fllass the unenviable title m l ' “ the shrieking sisterhood.” Miss Faithfull was a worker, not a talker, and she had no desire to gain personal notoriety when she took up her mission. Convinced that in the various branches of labor in which women could compete with men none offered more favorable opportunities than the gentle art of printing, Miss F'i’hfnll set up a printing office, in which the work of type-setting xvas done entirely by women. Here, for many a year, practical proo f was given that women’s work was fully equal to that of m u. indeed, the work turned out at this I r n;ing-lioiiic, and the arguments of its f cinder, disseminated in the ‘Victoria Magazine,’ unquestionably did more to advance woman’s cause than all the platform performances of the exponents of women’s rights. Miss Faithfull lived to see the employment of women in a great number of

spheres deemed impossible to them not very many years ago. And she also lived long enough to discover that in some situations in which women would reasonably have been expected to be superior to men women fail more or less. In shops, for example, the services of women would seem vastly more appropriate than that of men ; but, as a matter of fact, men are preferred by the customers, as in point of civility, attention, and endurance they are markedly women’s superiors. The same superiority has been exhibited by men in the post offices, so much so, indeed, that in England they are again supplanting the members of the gentle sex who had taken their places. Women all the World over owe a deep debt of gratitude to Miss Faithfull, and it is to be hoped that they will contrive some lasting fitting memorial to her memory—without man’s aid; though many men, myself amongst them, would be glad to add their mite. TIIE WAV TO walk I’I'STAIRM. A terrible puuicmonger is the latter-day medicine man—the more so that he is usually afflicted with the grievous disease known as cacocthes scrihendi , and loves to see himself in print. His desire, of course, is to impress the public, and to advertise himself hi a manner which is not disapproved of (in black and white) by the R.C.P. and S. To do this he is continually discovering new dangers to humanity, such as, for instance, that the constant use of steel pens conduces to chronic aphasia, or that too frequent indulgence in semolina pudding tends to produce—well, any disease you like so long as it has an awe-inspiring appellation containing not less than four six-syllabled words. Also, he is for ever telling us that we don’t yawn. scientifically, and that our sneezes are not performed in a manner consistent with the principles of hygiene, or that our method of getting in and out of bed is opposed to the principle upon which cur liver acts. The latest and not the least amusing of our literary medi-cinc-mau’s pronouncements is that we don’t walk upstairs scientifically. As the result of exhaustive observations he has come to the conclusion that the great majority take off’ from the ball of the foot. This, of course, is entirely wrong, inasmuch as it throws undue strain on the muscles of the legs and feet. What we should do is to place the whole foot (heel and ball) squarely down on the step, and so allow each muscle to do its duty in a proper manner. By attention to these concise instructions anyone may learn, with practice, to mount upstairs scientifically, but I defy anyone to attain to gracefulness by this method. Try it. DASTEI'R THE I'ATIUOT. The high priest of preventive medicine has made his name more honored (temporarily) in France by refusing the to accept German Emperor’s offer of the Prussian order Pour hj Jfiritc than he could have done by long years of scientific research. M. Pasteur refused the distinction on the ground that “ if science had no Fatnerlandhe had and since this utterance a certain class of Frenchmen have been lauding the renowned scientist to the skies. For the present he is “ Pasteur the Patriot,” and though the slight effervescence awakened by the offer made him and his refusal of tho same will subside as quickly as the head on a glass of champagne, it shows how raw the wounds of 1871 arc still. Tiie lapse of five and twenty years has not enabled the majority of Frenchmen to live down that great humiliation, and every fresh attempt on Germany’s purl at conciliation only shows the hopelessness of efforts in this direction. France is determined not to forget the past, and, though a small section of rationalminded patriots have long worked to bring about goodwill betw’osn the nations, the Chauvinistic spirit is too rumpaut for their efforts to produce good effect. Indeed, as the Pasteur incident shows, Germany holding out the olive branch has much the same effect on the French miud as the red cloak of the bull-tighter has upon a black Andalusian. Th German Press are beginning to recognise this fact, and are asking those in power to drop the policy of reconciliation. AM rSEMENT-s The substitution of Olga Nethersole for Mrs Pat Campbell has killed ‘The Notorious Mrs Ebbsmith,’ and it is to be taken off at the Garrick next week, tho ever-popular ‘ Fair of (Spectacles’ and ‘ A Quiet Rubber’ tilling up the bill till Mr Hare and his company start qu their American and Australian travels. Mind, by the way, when Mr Hare reaches your part of the world, not to miss seeing hia Lord Kinclare in a ‘Quiet Rubber.’ It is one of the few undoubted masterpieces of characterisation of the contemporary stage. The weakness of the revival of ‘ Fedora ’ at the Haymarket Theatre is, in my opinion, not so much Mrs Campbell’s Princess as Tree’s Siponoff. Both, however, have greatly improved their readings since the first night. The actress now' lets herself go, and from beginning to cud last Saturday afternoon she was magnificent. Some Australian lathes who were with me said they had never in their lives seen such acting before ; even Bernhardt in the Tosca had not affected them as powerfully. Mr Tree lacks the physical strength and ferocity necessary for Sponoft'. Mrs Bancroft is charming. Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her invincible piquancy. Sixty-two thousand persons visited the Crystal Palace and 63,000 the Earlscourt Exhibition on Whit Monday, There were aim 30,00<j at the Imperial Institute. Madame Melba’s pluck was the means of averting a serious panic at Covent Garden on Friday last. The opera was ‘ Faust,’ and being a “Melba night” the huge theatre was crammed from floor to ceiling. M, Planyon as Mephistophles, as usual made his entree amidst a blaze of red lire. Too much of the latter must, however, have been used, for it flared up and caught the scenery or back-cloth. The material at once burst into flame, and there was a wild rush of attendants on to the stage, M. Plauyon joining in the energetic efforts made to subdue the threatened outbreak. No one shouted “ Fire,” but the curtain fell, and a number of personam variouspartsof thohouse made hurriedly for the exits. In another minute panic would have been general. Fortunately at this moment Madame Melba marched on to the stage in front of the curtain, and, smiling comfortably, walked leisurely backwards and forv/anls amidst thunderous applause. This just saved the occasion. Hardly anyone cared to display fright, and a quarter of an hour later the opera proceeded smoothly enough. At Covent Garden on Saturday evening there was a splendid house, including numerous royalties, to witness tho first night of Mr Gowen’s ‘Harold,’ which your musicos can examine for themselves, as the score is published. The critics are not enthusiastic, but pronounce the W’ork the most satisfactory the composer has achieved. Why does tho Australian impresario and theatrical manager visit this effete old country There is never (so he tells you) anything or anybody worth seeing in London. The popular successes of the day are dreadfully over-rated, and as for Shakespearian revivals, etc., why “we do that kind of show far better in Melbourne and Sydney.” Nevertheless, year after year the Australian manager somehow turns up in the Strand, and is to be seen theatre-going and matineering with severity. We have witnessed Mr J. C. Williamson, Mr Musgrove, and Mr Garner in turn thus well employed. Last autumn dapper, dandy “Dot” Boucicault decorated most important first nights with his ornamental person. And now “Bobby” Brough and his clever wife are going the rounds. Despite the poverty of the land, I hear Mr Brough has captured sundry novelties. After seeing Mrs Pat Campbell as Mrs Ebbsmith, Mrs Brough thought she would like to play the notorious heroine of Pinero’s piece, and her husband therefore purchased the Australian rights. Later they witnessed Olga Nethersole murder the part, and felt less satisfied with their bargain. Mr Brough was quite shrewd enough to see that, minus Mrs Campbell, there was little drawing power left in the piece. Whether his wife will be able to vivify it remains to be seen. Besides ‘ The Notorious Mrs Ebbsmith’ Mr Brough has acquired ‘The Importance of Being Earnest,’ the parts of which have been sent out, so that you will see it shortly. He also negotiated with Mr Jerome K. Jerome for ‘ The Prude’s Progress,’ but when it came to signing the agreement the author was greedy, and arrangements broke down.

It seems probable Brough and Boiicioault

and Williamson will between them run John Hare in Australia and New Zealand. Hare means to rely on ‘ A Pair of Spectacles,’ in which he is to be supported by Charles Groves. There seems some doubt whether this actor has a large enough repertoire for Australia. You see, he has never gone in for “starring,” often playing, as in ‘The Profligate,’ quite a small part. Miss Brenda Gibson (Mr Brough’s halfsister) has made a success at the Lyceum, and goes to America with Sir Henry Irving. t-ITEKA&Y NOl'E*. Mr Stead having failed to regenerate poor humanity by means of Maiden Tributes, Mattei-ism, and Spooks, is now going to try the effect of 11 penny poets.” He has (as per usual) consulted the leaders of thought upon what he pompously calls “ my new departure ” (as though penny booklets were absolutely unknown), and fac-similes of the replies are bound up with ‘ Lays of Ancient Rome,’ which forms volume 1 of the series. I agree with Mt Gladstone apd other notables that the printing paper and general get-up of the edition are admirable, and that a better pennyworth has never been put on the market. At the same time I can also sympathise with the Cassells and other reprint publishers, who complain that, in addition to poaching on their preserves, Mr Stead is trying to get an unjustifiable advantage by posing as a benefactor of the human race. For some years past Cassells and theS.P.G.K. have, without any flourishing of trumpets, been doing the “great work of issuing cheap classics,” for which the “good man” now claims kudos. But that has always been his little way. For apt and artful advertisement W. T. Stead is unequalled. Other men, also enterprising, publish newspapers, magazines, and' books in the hope of making money. The ingenuous Stead seems to have no commercial instincts. It only somehow happens that his enthusiasm for humanity, whether manifested through the 'agency of sensations, spooks, or sonnets, leaves him, when public interest in the craze of the moment collapses, so many tens, or hundreds, or thousands (generally thousands) of pounds to the good. That, he would tell ua, is an incident of the campaign, and must not be confounded with the motive inspiring it. Apropos of recent honors, here is a true story of Jupiter nodding. In the autumn of 188b Mr Besaut was a candidate for the Common Council, and was defeated. Next day ‘ The Times ’ came out with an article in its best literary style, in which certain moral lessons wore deduced from the contest, and cultured references made to Mr Besanl’s historical novels ‘ Florence,’ ‘ Venice,’ ‘ Queen Elizabeth,’ * Samuel Pepys,’ etc., etc. Alas ! the luckless aspirant to aldermeuic responsibilities was not Waller Besaut at all, nor even one of his numerous brethren, but just a city ship-broker. Words would fail to picture what passed at Printing]- house square when this blunder transpired. Sir Walter Besant has, or rather had (for Horace Besant is dead), five brothers. William is a Cambridge professor and senior wrangler, Edgar and Albert are successful professional men, and the Rev. Frank married the notorious Mrs Ebbsmilh—l should say Besaut. That “ lan Maclaren ” has not much fictional talent when he strays away from Scotch village life a story in the current ‘Woman at Home’ shows. It is called ‘ The Last Sacrifice,’ and describes one of those immoral moralities of which women arc fonder than men.

The tact that the conservative Bentley Ins given way to the new departure of a 6s publication shows that it must be making great headway. He has brought ’ out ‘My Lady Nobody,’ by Maarten Maartens, in I his form. The story, you may remember, ran recently through’the ‘lllustrated News.’ It is a very Simple story of Dutch country life, the principal characters being the village cure, or, as they call him, dominie, and his daughter, and the local grandee, Baron Van Helmont, and his two sons. There arc cross lovo affairs and an unfortunate marriage, but the charm and attraction of the book, which are considerable, really lie in the characterisation. Not only the principals but the subordinates are drawn with a masterly hand. 4 My Lady Nobody ’ may not be as powerful a story as ‘ God’s Foo*,’ but it will rank. I think, before either |The Greater Glory’ or ‘An Old Man’s Love.’

The most original, audacious, and fascinating “shocker” which bus been published for many a long day is 1 The Time Machine,’ by H. G. Wells. It relates how a strange individual whom the author calls the Tine Traveller invents a machine for whizzing through time, either into the past or future. When it is complete he starts away into thousands of years hence, and the account of this start deserves reproduction, for it must be pronounced a remarkable imaginative effort. Unfortunately it is rather long. You must picture the Time Traveller mounted on the saddle of a strangelooking machine—half bicycle, half engine, half aeroplane. He pulls a lever, and starts with a jerk, “ The night came like the turning out of a lamp, and in another moment came to-morrow. The laboratory grew faint and hazy, then fainter and ever fainter. To-morrow night came black, then day again—night again, day again—faster and faster still. An eddying murmur filled my ears, and a strange dumb confusudness descended on my mind. I am afraid I cannot convey the peculiar sensations of time travelling. As I put on pace, night followed day like the flapping of a black wing. I saw r the sun hopping swiftly across the sky, leaping it every minute, aud every minute marking a day. The tw inkling succession of darkness and light was excessively painful to the eye. Then in the intermittent darknesses I saw the moon spinning swiftly through her quarters from new to full, and had a faint glimpse of the circling stars. Presently, as I went on, still gaining velocity, the palpitation of night and day merged into one continuous greyness, the sky took on a wonderful deepness of blue, the jerking sun became a streak of fire, the moon a fainter fluctuating band, and I could see nothing of the stars, save now and then a brighter circle flickering in the blue-” At length, when the dials on the machine tell the traveller he has reachedßoa,ooo A.n.,hebeginsfcarfully to think of pulling up, and does so rather 100 suddenly. The result is very nearly annihilation. Fortunately neither he nor the machine, though much knocked about, arc seriously injured. But a big mental shock awaits the Traveller. The world is not the least what he or anyone else expected it to be. The Traveller has landed not, as he thinks at first, in the Golden Age, but in the Sunset of Mankind. What this signifies I won’t spoil the interest of the story or the elaboration of a highly-ingenious theory by intimating. The Time Traveller’s experiences are thrilling, especially when after his narrow escape from death at the hands of the subterranean race of blind cannibals he escapes on his machine still further into the future, finally all but assisting at the end of the world. He returns safely, however, aud tells his incredible story to a number of sceptical friends. Their incredulity unfortunately tempts him to undertake another journey, and from this the Time Traveller never comes back. The tale altogether is, as I begun by saying, a great effort of a sumptuous imagination. Mr Wells beats Jules Verne hollow at his own game. Mr and Mrs Kudyard Kipling are going to spend next winter in India. Mr Kipling is said to be meditating a book of backwoodsman life, but his friends hope he will stick to the East. The new ‘ Jungle Book ’ appears in September. Over 15,000 copies have already been subscribed of the illustrated edition of ‘Trilby,’ sporting gossip. Trotting is a sport which boasts but few votaries in the Old Country, but thanks to the enterprise and energy of the few it is slowly but surely growing in popular favor, especially in the north. The Manchester Trotting Club, which possesses a fine cinder path, generally manages to provide good sport for patrons of the game. On Monday an exciting item in their programme was a match between Mr Seddon’s Lady Combermere and that splendidly consistent performer Time. The mare was backed by her owner to trot twenty miles inside the hour. As she had failed in a similar essay last June by llsec, Time found plenty of backers. On Monday, however, the mare just pipped him by two-fifths of a second. Lady Coipbemere only broke once during her'

long journey, but'went in a distressed fashion for the last two miles. Her performance is, of course, a record for England, but the Yankee record, made so long ago as 1818, stands at 69min 35$aeo, Another “ world’s record ” was buried on Monday evening. The cemetery was Hampden Park, Glasgow, the gravediggers A. R. Downer and E. C. Bredin, and the mourners the members of the West of Scotland Harriers and some 6,000 of the populace. To quit nonsense, Bredin and Downer ran the second of their 300 yds matches at the venue named. On the first occasion Bredin won, but on Monday the Scottish champion turned the tables in a most dedisive fashion. To an equal start the pair went off the mark at a spanking pace. At the end of the first hundred Downer led his opponent 3yds, and running with great fire and determination had placed a good 6yds to his oredit when the second hundred had been reeled off. Bredin put in a desperate spurt in the last hundred, but Downer ran on strongly, and landed home fully 10yds ahead, in the magnificent time of 31 2-ssec. The previous record was 3Useo. A rather strong breeze interfered with the runners, or a better performance still would have been recorded. Oa the same evening. F. E. Bacon won a five-mile handicap by 100 yds in 25min 15 4-ssoc, beating the Scottish record by 35 4 ssec. Mr Gerard Aston, an employe in the Unionßauk of London, successfullyessayed a walk from London to Brighton under ten hours on Saturday. Admirably paced, Aston’ covered the fifty-two miles in Oh oojinin. He covered the first thirty, miles at the rate of five miles and a-half per hour. The weather at the time of this performance was all that could be desired ; but, taking into consideration the nature of the roads to be negotiated, the walk is worthy of recording. THE OAKS. Glorious weather favored the “ Ladies’ Day ”at Epsom. A smart overnight shower laid the chalky dust on the roads down, rendering the drive pleasant beyond expectations. But the rain had not been sufficient to soften the sun-baked earth, and by the time the big race was run the course was like iron. As was the case with the Derby, the race presented a very open appearance, and the field, swelled by fillies with, perhaps, 1,000 to 1 chances, numbered fifteen. Of these the most fancied at the eleventh hour was Garter Queen, which was rushed into favoritism whilst the parade was in progress. Next in demand was Sir James Miller’s LaSagesse, byWisdom outoffjit. Mary, whilst the One Thousand heroine, Galeottia, was freely supported at seven and eight to one. At slightly longer odds Gas, Float, Saintly, and Ella Tweed were backed in earnest; but against Choice, Penkridge, and Silver Hill long odds were cried in vain. Mustered at the post in excellent time, the fillies behaved with exemplary coolness, and without a breakaway were sent off to an excellent start. At the outset Silver Hill set a very slow pace, but at the mile post the Oaks winner took up the running, and at a greatly improved rate took the field to the top of the hill. At this point Garter Queen ran into second place, and they raced round Tatteuham Corner in this order : Galeottia, Garter Queen, Auriga, Silver Hill, Penkridge, La Sagesse—the others bunched behind. As they came into the straight La Sagesse rapidly improved her position, but at the Bell, with Garter Quern in diliiculties, GaUo.tia looked an easy wioner. Then Penkridge challenged and collared the leader, only, however, to be beaten off in a few strides, and once more the Oaks heroine seemed to have the race in hand. Suddenly, however, La Sagesse appeared on the scene, and galloping with great fire and determination quickly caught Galeottia inside the distance, and beat her easily by a length and a-half. Penkridge just managed to deprive the game Oar ter Queen of the 100 sov attached to third place. Sammy Loates was the pilot of Sir James Miller’s filly, and he thus achieved the distinction of riding the winners of both Derby and Oaks in the same week. The time occupied by La Sagesse for the mile and a-half was 2min 48 4 ssec. The value of the stakes was £4,500, but of this sum the nominator of the winner gets £4OO, the owner of the second £2OO, and ol the third £IOO.