ENGLISH HORSES. 
285 
the pivot. But the pivot is stronger than any horse, 
and cannot of course be broken. The scientific will 
comprehend this illustration of the power of the 
tongueless-buckle. 
The unscientific mind will see its power by this 
illustration. Suppose the trace were screwed into a 
common vice, and the tug so adjusted that when 
pulled it would turn the screw which tightens the 
grasp of the vice upon the trace, and a perfect idea of 
the action of the tongueless-buclde will be had. The 
jaws of the vice represent the loop of this buckle ; 
the thread of the screw the pivot of the buckle ; and 
the handle which turns the screw, the lever of the 
buckle : and the action of the trace when pulled on 
the handle, in turning the screw and tightening the 
vice-jaws, the action of the trace when the horse 
draws, in moving the lever of the buckle, and the 
narrowing of the loop. In both, the greater the 
draught upon the trace, the stronger the grasp on it. 
New York, August, 1845, A. Stevens. 
We heartily approve of Mr. Lawrence’s capital 
improvement in the buckle. It will save thousands 
of dollars annually in every stale, now expended to 
repair tugs, broken on account of the use of tongue- 
buckles. For all uses they are nearly as low in 
price as the common buckle. They have wisely 
been put at a low price to secure a large sale. One 
may be seen at our office, and we should be glad to 
supply orders from our friends. It is one of the 
greatest improvements of the age. 
englisiThorses. 
I am happy to announce the safe arrival of our 
friend ****** * ; and family—just one day too late 
for the Ascot-day !—for so an Englishman would 
mark the epoch, and consider it an irreparable loss. 
Not to see the “ Darby race ” is bad enough, but 
to miss Ascot is always considered the loss of that 
year, at least in a man’s sporting life—and every 
English gentleman sports more or less. On these 
momentous occasions the houses of grave legislation 
adjourn—public offices do nothing—even law leaves 
its chambers—and doctors are not to be found at 
home ! The citizen, the man of business, from the 
wealthiest banking and shipping houses, to the very 
cats’-meat-man, (a) the loafer, the laborer, the very 
beggar gives up his trade and will bet from a “ breed¬ 
er ” to a “ bull” (b) on his favorite. Yes, all London 
turns out on the “ cup-day” at Ascot, and so did we; 
and such a day of suffering to be called pleasure 1 
never toiled through. Such a hot sun—such a 
breathless atmosphere—such a dense mass of dust! 
It is folly to say clouds of dust, for clouds shift and 
move, and break away. No, when you doubt which 
way the carriage before you is moving, whether to 
you or from you—when you look over the wheel in 
vain to see if it be on or off the road—when in fact 
the voice grows husky and the eye dim, and men ride 
the road with their heads tied up in gauze, we may 
well talk of dust en masse. But all this passed as 
pleasure! Yes, it was an excursion of'pleasure, or 
at least we started in pursuit of pleasure , and such 
were its constituents—to say nothing of the risks of 
life, the crash of carriages, the jam, the press, the 
crowd, the crush of vehicles and horses, the rush for 
places, and the demands made at every step on your 
purse for something or for nothing. At length we 
arrive at the course, our half sovereign is paid, and 
we are permitted to pass and seek a place along a 
line of carriages already standing three deep. Hardly 
have you “ pulled up,” hesitating and hopeless as to 
where to get a peep, your horses disappear, your pole 
is taken out, and your carriage lifted bodily as close 
up as possible to whatever may be next you, by a 
set of fellows who are ever at hand on such occa¬ 
sions, and whose officiousness decides your fate and 
all chance of further selection. You have yourself 
hardly left the carriage and landed on the ground, 
emerging from a cloud of dust disturbed by the move¬ 
ments, before one chap, brush in hand, has possessed 
himself of your hat, another is busily at work on 
your coat, while a third is on his knees brushing 
away at your boots, and another with a bucket of 
water and tin basin, urges upon you hydropathy in 
all its simplest form. “A cool wash, zur?—clear 
water, all fresh—dry directly, zur, in this-ere ’ot sun 
for not a rag of anything was there for a “ vipe,” 
save your own pocket-handkerchief. 
Then commenced the race with the usual “ there 
they go”—“ here they come”—“blue has it”—“ well 
done yellow”—go it red.” A pause of anxious 
suspense ensues. What a long interminable minute 
it is! Impatience calls it ten; but the watch de¬ 
clares it to be only one. The board is up. No. 4 is 
marked as the winner.(c) No. 4 ? Oh that’s the Em¬ 
peror ! Yes, the Emperor won by half a head, &c. 
&c. Gloves are won and lost: so are shillings : and 
so indeed are thousands ! Aye, the lady who has 
come on the course in her carriage and four, has left 
it in a borrowed conveyance ! 
It was a most trying day for both man and beast. 
No less than one hundred horses were left by the 
road side. Forty pounds was offered for an omnibus, 
and ten guineas for a donkey-cart; and wffiat was 
our astonishment when the gypsey-looking owner de¬ 
clared “ he couldn’t do it no how for that money. 
A bull , mayhap, fotched you here, but it’ll take a 
lot of goldfinches ( d ) to carry you back agin.” 
We had been more provident; for by engaging 
stalls at half a guinea each for a night’s standing, and 
sending on relays, we got home comfortably, after a 
refreshing drive of seventeen miles, in the cool of the 
evening; and a most delightful drive it was as soon 
as we turned off from the main road of travel, and 
were disentangled from the mighty current that was 
setting towards London. The unparalleled excel¬ 
lence of the roads, winding and turning at every mile, 
without a stone, without the impress of a wheel. 
With a surface even and smooth as the nicest garden- 
walk, and edged by the turf on either side, cut and 
trimmed by a line; the hedges filled with flowers; 
the air loaded with fragrance; the foliage of the rich¬ 
est and most diversified green, and the fields of the 
most vivid color—all conspired to increase the enjoy¬ 
ment of our quiet ride home from such a scene of 
turmoil and excitement as we had been in. So much 
for a day at Ascot. But you have passed through it 
all, and'I might have spared your time and my own, 
and devoted my paper to something better worth your 
perusal. 
Now for a word or two about the horses: and 
when I tell you that Alice Hawthorn and Foig-a- 
Ballagh were heaten on that day, you will believe 
that England’s best were there. And yet I can hard¬ 
ly make up my mind as to what effect the present 
