Van Tromp's only engagement at present is the great Four-year-old Stake at Goodwood, in which he and his.old enemy Cossack may fight out the "who shall ?"

Of Lord Eglinton, the noble owner of Van Tromp, it is unnecessary to say much here. He is well known as one of the most honourable and straightforward men on the turf, and, we are happy to add, has evinced a spirit and judgment equal to his high principle. It is seldom, since his coming fairly on, that Lord Eglinton has been found without two or three really good horses in his stable; and as this makes his second St. Leger in five years, we may count him as having enjoyed a fair share of success. His lordship's horses are now trained in private by Fobert, at Middleham, and very well and carefully ridden by Job Marson, assisted by young Prince and others, when occasion may call for their services.

"THE FORTUNE OF WAR."

ENGRAVED BY J. SCOTT, FROM A PAINTING BY D. CUNLiffe.

"And then-he falls."

Henry VIII.

"Never mind, sir-never mind a bit of a scramble or two, for it's all the fortune of war! Keep your hold, harden your heart, and at 'em again!'

When the noble Roman-Brutus, Cæsar, Cato, or whatever the gentleman's name might happen to be-found he must go, his great object became to fall with grace and dignity: rather different, perhaps, from the case of the noble fox-hunter, who, when he sees he really is in for it, essays to fall with "ease and comfort to himself," as the magicstrop men say of the shavers. This unquestionably embodies the great secret in the scientific art of falling--a science, by the way, that has scarcely ever yet been treated with that consideration and effect its importance deserves. Every man who pretends, in the very least degree, to ride to hounds, ought to expect and be proportionately prepared for his share of mishaps; indeed, we should be rather inclined to believe some of our show-off customers might be actually gratified by a harmless roll or two occasionally. It is a very exploded notion to suppose that any number of falls denote bad horsemanship, as any scarcity in the article give indirect evidence of good. Heroes, who never venture on the water, are not very likely to be "found drowned;" and, on the same plan, the bold hunters who never take a fence are not in any immediate peril of being knocked over by one. The fall, in fact, is more or less a sign of some courage, determination, or "foolhardiness," as the unsympathising spectator would christen it; while, as far as the proof of horsemanship goes,

it is next door to nothing at all. The crack men of your hunt-the Lord Gardiners, long Coxes, Tom Prices, Captain Powells, and so on, who cut out the work, break the binders, sound the brooks, and pioneer by right of might, take such bargained-for trifles as their proper perquisites, leaving it to less distinguished performers who come after, to jump over or on them, as the case may be. This, especially in these racing, steeple-chasing, fly-away times, sets the fashion at once, and so young Lord Hironhed, or simple Mr. Softpate, having attempted the ticklish trick of "lifting" his horse, and succeeded thereby in flooring him neatly, regards his mud-cased side and crush hat with due complacency and christian-like resignation. Sure doesn't it show he has been fighting his way gallantly over the country? Isn't it gospel truth of the awful places he tilted at? And won't it raise him cent. per cent. in the eyes of his sisters, cousins, and ladies' maids? And echo answers, "Won't it just?" And so he turns again for home, with something of the satisfaction and something more of the appearance which established usage has given to Tony Lumpkin, after rattling his mamma over Crackskull Common, down Squash Lane, and then at length safely landing her in the horse-pond at the back of the house.

According to our own experience and observation-which, as we interpret it, mean much the same thing-second whips are, after all, the greatest adepts in "going down," as, on the other hand, huntsmen about the least frequent sufferers, considering their almost daily duties a-field, from accidents of the character illustrated by our artist. This, too, may be tolerably well accounted for: running or not running, whips are always at work-boring their way through covers to corners, chevying riot-making puppies, hurrying to halloos, speculating for views, and so on, afford them an ample allowance of awkward, journeyman, hard labour. Then, moreover, the mounts they are so proverbially honoured with tend much to increase their liabili ties-untaught or unteachable devils, to be put at untried or impracticable places, are certainly fine ingredients for a full, fair fall, and these the junior counsel has too often to contend with. The halfbroken, queer-tempered beggars are also forced away from their company without the cry of a hound, the clash of a find, or, in fact, any inducement beyond resolute handling and sharp heel-ing to get them over or through. How often, then, and how naturally does it happen that, after drawing a strong deep cover, without a note or a flourish to enliven the formal procession we are ranged in! how common is it to find Will, Tom, or Harry waiting for us at the other end, with the young-un's head covered with mud, and Bill's corduroys well sprinkled with blood, looking for all the world as if he had just had twenty minutes' best pace, with ten falls, in the scurry! Never mind, if the nag don't care about it he don't; it's all the fortune of war, and, please the pigs, he'll be a huntsman some day, and then

"Let him make hunters who has ne'er a groat."

In the mean-while, he goes on with the queer ones, resigning them, of course, directly they become good ones; doing all the dirty work of the day, and breaking gates, banks, quicks, horses by degrees, and now and then ribs, when, as is recorded of one of his almost invul