And then, to use a modern expression, “ among the distinguished company assembled I noticed” the Roman officers Quintus Antonius, Isauricus—Antoninus Pius and Marcus Nonius, of the legion Augusta; Aurelius Superus— Claudius Hieronymianus— and Cseresius,

;

Centurions of the sixth legion, quartered at York Augustus Germanicus Dacius—and Lucius Ducius Rufhnus, Standard-bearer of the ninth legion; with Titus Perpetuus, a rich civilian; all come over from the Regimental head-quarters at York.

The Colonel of the regiment in his “essedum,” or mail phaeton, the cornet in his “ cisium,” or dog-cart, were also there to see the races.*

These noble Roman lords and ladies, and doubtless, many of the private soldiers, I saw in my midday dream all assembled eager to view the race of the “ bigce ” or pair-horse chariots, or the contest between the four-horse teams, the “ quadriga.” Also the coachmen, the u agitatores standing on the floor of the chariots, inside their reins, to enable them to throw all their weight against the horses by leaning backwards. The cards of the races, the “ libellce the “ actuarii” the gentlemen of the press; the colours of the drivers U russata ” (red), u venetaufactio”— prasina” (green), (purple), u albata” (white). The starting-post, the u alba linea \” the starters, the 11 moratores the race-cups, the “ bravia.”

Roman Officers in those days were probably as great patrons of the racecourse as English Officers are in our days. I get their names from the votary altars and massive stone tombs in the York Museum; that their regiments were quartered at and about the city of York is well known to antiquaries.

Sacri tripodes, viridesque coronse,

Et palmse, pretium victoribus, armaque, et ostro

Perfusae vestes, argenti aurique talenta.*

The cards of the races, “ codices the gipsies, u ambu-bice the shouting of the people to clear the course for the jockeys; Priam, the young Chifney of the day, riding the favourite, a roan grey with white legs.

Quern Thracius albis Portat equus bicolor maculis, vestigia primi

Alba pedis, frontemque ostendens arduus albara.f

The other jockey-boys, the light-weight “ Atys,” and then u Ascanius,” riding a fidgety Sidonian Arab horse, of the breed so much prized by the fair Queen Dido; and the ruck of race-horses, half-Roman half-Yorkshire bred—it may be the very ancestors of our Life Guard troop horses—all mounted by jockeys who wore spurs (for there is a spur in Mr. Lawson’s museum, at Aldborough). They start at the sound of the

trumpet.

Green laurel wreaths and palm the victors grace

Within the circle arms and tripods lie,

Ingots of gold and silver heaped on high,

And vests embroidered with the Tyrian dye, t New honours adding to the Latin name,

Right well the noble boy his Thracian steed became

White were the fetlocks of his feet before,

And on his front a snowy star he bore.

: f

Ubi clara dedit sonitum tuba, finibus'omnes,

Haud mora, prosiluere suis.*

Truly, what a scene this must have been! The u odds ”—the shouting—the betting—the Babel of a thousand tongues, talking Latin with an accent which we never have heard, and never shall hear, and never can hear. The rise of the ruck of the racing chariots whirling in a dust cloud over the brow of the hill.

Aurigse undantia lora Concussere jugis pronique in verbera pendent.

The steering of the chariot drivers round the biggest of the u Devil’s Arrows,” the bang and crash of the chariot-wheel against it, the sparks from the crushed tire agains* the hard-stone, the coachman upset—stunned, and prostrate among the tangled harness and kicking horses

And the whirlwind race is over his head,

Without stopping to ask if he’s living or dead.

The cry for the Assistant- Surgeon of the Ninth Legion, J who, of course, was present at the races in the u Har-

The clangour of the trumpet gives the sign

At once they start, advancing in a line.

t The fierce driver with great fury lends

The sounding lash, and ere the stroke descends,

Low to the wheels his pliant body bends. t The Koman Life G-uard officers doubtless took their doctor to the races as do the English Life Guards at the present day Many a pleasant day have I spent ou the regimental and private drags of my brother officers.

mamaxa,” or Regimental drag, from York; the queer surgical instruments and ointments!

Who would not indulge in such day-dreams as these? who would not visit the “ Devil’s Arrows,” and in his imagination paint a Roman Derby-day? *

Where are all these right brave Roman, officers and soldiers now? where are the beautiful Roman ladies? Gone! gone! the pillars of their racecourse alone remain. As for themselves,

Their bodies dust, their arms are rust, Their souls now lie in peace, we trust.

In a paper lately read by Mr. William Hennessy at a meeting of the Royal Irish Academy, it was stated that as early as a.d. 60, chariot-races and games were celebrated on the Curragh of Kildare. The Curragh has been a common, the writer showed, since the year 484, and horse-racing was introduced upon it in a.d. 260,

A YORKSHIRE FISHINGr MATCH.

When walking through the streets of Knaresborough I saw a bill in a shop window announcing that the “ Thirsk Mowbray Yale Angling Association ” would hold their annual angling match in the river Swale, on Tuesday, September 22. The rules, also, were given, viz., that “ only one rod and one hook were to be used; every angler to bait his own hook and land his own fish; the places of fishing to be chosen by lot, and no one to put his rod together till the pistol fired,” &c. &c.

Accordingly, I immediately entered the shop, and being determined to see the fun, paid my entrance of 2s. Early on the morning of the match I found some five-and-twenty jolly anglers, true and good men, natives of Knaresborough, all waiting at the station anxious to start. The train came up, and away we went for Mel-merby station, the match being about to be held at Shipton-on- Swale. Just before we arrived at, and while passing Ripon, it began to (as the Yorkshiremen have it) “ part rain,” and the weather to be decidedly “ soft” —in other words, it poured in torrents, and into this

SEii. in. E

drenching wet we turned out for a walk of four miles

across the fields to Skipton Bridge, the head-quartern of the angling match. It was great fun to see the various wet-weather costumes of my friends; most of them, indeed, carried umbrellas strapped to the rods, which were got out and hoisted with wonderful celerity. During the walk the anglers, though heavily weighted with tackle, baits, &c., were as lively and merry as possible, and many a story was told, as for example “ A keeper strolling one day by the side of a stream, with his ‘Bull and Terrier’ dog at his heels, came upon a man who was intently fishing for pike, one of which he had just landed and which was then jumping about on the grass, not at all comfortable, and in about as bad a humour as it is possible for even this surly fish

to be. “ ‘ Hollo,’ says the keeper, putting on as simple an appearance as he possibly could, and eyeing the fish with a sort of curious gaze, ‘ would that fish bite now? ’ ‘I don’t know,’ says the angler, diligently plying away, ‘you can put your finger in his mouth if you like, and try him.’ ‘ Oh, no,’ says the keeper, drawing back, ‘but

‘ Not at all,I’ll try my dog’s tail, if you don’t mind.’ I shan’t feel it,’ was the reply. Accordingly, having caught his dog, he put his tail in the pike’s mouth. No sooner did the pike feel the tail than he took hold, fixing his sharp teeth deeply into it; the dog immediately ran

off at his hardest, singing ‘ Pen and Ink/ and made his way home as fast as his legs would carry him. At this the keeper laughed heartily; not so the owner of the fish, ‘ Oh, I say, Mr. Keeper,who sang out in his loudest voice call back your dog, will you.’ 1 Not 1/ says the 1 ’ ”keeper, walking away; you call back your pike!

Then another angler told us how that a Yorkshire barber,* notorious for his excessive politeness, while shaving a rustic customer by candlelight, dropped the burning wick of the candle into his ear. “ You’re burning mee lug,” said the indignant rustic. “Oh, thank you, sir 1 oh, thank you, sir! ” answered the barber. Another customer went to sleep while operated on by the same barber, who said. “ Good-night to you, sir; pleasant dreams to you, sir; ” and then sent in his wife “ to charge for the gentleman’s bed.”

As we went along, our ranks soon began to thin, and the rear-guard was formed by myself, with a terribly heavy basket of tackle, because I was told the fish in the Swale were “ trout, cheven (chub), roach, eels, perch, barbel, carp, dace, gudgeon, jack, bream, burbolt, and all sorts” and not knowing what I might find, I had tackle ready for “ all sorts.” My friend, Mr. Houseman, was loaded like a Pickford’s van—rods, landing-net,

This poor man, since this was written, was accidentally thrown from his horse within sight of the “ Devil’s Arrows,” and alas, killed on the spot.

umbrella, macintosh, worms, paste, brandlings, dew* worms, wasp grubs, lines, reels, bullets, split shot, beasts’ brains, and “mawks,” or gentles, which Mr. H. had that morning discovered in a hare which was hanging in his larder, so that, as he observed, “ he and his fish took the same bait.” He was determined, like myself, to win the match if tackle would do it; so heavy, indeed, was his tackle and himself combined, that on our return home we weighed him at the station, tackle and all, and found that he turned the scales at several pounds over two hundredweight. The fish in his pocket must, however, be deducted for the sake of fairness, as they weighed lib. 6oz. At last we arrived at Skipton Bridge, and met other parties of anglers from York, Leeds, Thirsk, Hampswaite,

Boro’-bridge, Knaresborough, Thornton-le-Moor, Sheffield, London, and other towns, also on the march to head-quarters. “ Where do we go?” we asked of an old woman. “ To t’house oop yon, at t’top of t’hill, there’s a terrible cloud of folks at t’door.” It was u a

allcloud of folks ” indeed—a regular mass of anglers, clustering round the door of the little public-house, just like a swarm of great black bees that had umbrellas for wings. The drawing for places was going on inside, the tickets being taken out of a beer jug and handed out of the window to the expectant anglers.

At last my number was called, and off I went to the

river, and a queer sight I saw. The whole of one bank of it was regularly marked out with white pegs twenty yards apart, every peg having a number affixed to it. The angler who had the corresponding number was obliged to use his allotment, and no other, as his fishing-ground. Header, imagine 135 anglers in a row, reaching about one mile and a half in total length, all expectation and all anxiety to begin operations in their respective allotments, from each of which, with hardly any exception, a little cloud of tobacco-smoke coiled upwards into the damp and drizzling atmosphere.

At last, about eleven, bang! went the pistol in the distance, off came the rod coverings, and rods soon began to project into the river like the horns of a lot of great snails, the snails themselves being represented by the angler crouching in a mass under his umbrella. I never in my life saw more promising “ swims” for fish than in this river. These, however, only occurred every now and then; and, of course, many anglers drew frightfully bad places. For instance, a friend who came with me soon left off trying for a prize because his “swim” was one thick hedge of tall willows, which he could not possibly see over, much less fish over. Mr. Houseman had a swim consisting of a shallow some two feet deep, and one solid mass of tangled weeds. The moment the fishing began, all chatter and noise ceased along the line and one might have imagined “ the fishers ” (as they

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