delightful blending of professional tact and indisputable kindness. No sooner are the horses out, than the lads are on their backs guiding them along the platform. One boy is peculiarly attractive. He is the smallest stable boy in Newmarket, and is familiarly known as "the Midget." No wonder, for as this diminutive youngster sits, the picture of health, on his horse's back, it is no easy matter to see him amongst the great heap of rugs and horse cloths which are on the saddle with him.
Horses arriving.
Though the majority of training establishments at Newmarket are practically conducted on the same principle, every one of them, however, has something of particular interest about it. The description of the stalls in one stable would fully typify those in the next twenty, and we would ask those trainers to whose establishments special reference is omitted not to think this due to any want of courtesy on our part, but solely to the great similarity which, in many instances, characterises them.
We have crossed the Heath, staying for a moment to watch a hundred horses exercising in small detachments, and in single solemn file. Here is the corner of the Bury-road. Nothing could be prettier than the grounds in front of Sefton Lodge—the verandah is completely hidden by trailing leaf, and the flower-beds are sparkling with tulips, red and white. At the back of the house is the training stable, where twenty horses are passing through "a course." A little higher up the road is the Memoriam Church of St. Agnes, erected by the Duchess of Montrose in 1886, in memoriam of Mr. Stirling Crawfurd. The minister, the Rev. W. Colville Wallis, is busy in the little garden which adjoins his house. Would we see the church? The interior is not without beauty, and a fine painting of the Italian school adorns one of the walls. The church is lit by electric light, which is supplied from the house. A single monument, depicting "Calvary," is on the adjoining land, exquisitely carved in marble. It stands in a square plot of ground, round which is a border of neatly-trimmed furze, and marks the grave of Mr. Stirling Crawfurd.
Mr. J. Jewitt's establishment is the first we come to. Mr. Jewitt trains for Lord Calthorpe and Captain Machell, and the Captain has a very charming residence adjoining. The principal stables are built of stone and cement, relieved with brick, and with the fine old tower, with its clinging ivy—which stands over a well some sixty feet deep—the whole picture is striking to a high degree. No fewer than sixty-three horses can be lodged here, and young animals are broken in on an extensive meadow at the back. Wending our way across the yard, we learn that the blacksmith's shop here is the only private one in Newmarket. He of the brawny arms is certainly a fine strapping fellow. From a heap of shoes he singles out a plate covered with dust and rust, but to him decidedly precious. He straightens it out a bit with his hammer, and holds it up as a memento of a famous horse. It was worn by Seabreeze, who won the Leger and the Oaks. Our friend of the forge shoed
