Volume 1 — SPORTING INTELLIGENCE.
Reading edition
THE SOLDIER TO HIS HORSE.
Allusive to a military order for the destruction of the British cavalry horses, during the late retreat in Spain.
The word is giv'n—my officers command, Fond partner of my danger and my toil, That thou should'st die by this now trembling hand, And prostrate lie upon a foreign soil. Thy ample back in confidence I've strode, Depended on thee in the hour of flight, And oft thy wanton tricks of fondness show'd, Thy master's prowess was thy chief delight. Urg'd by my will, amidst the hostile ranks, Hast thou sustained me, in each desperate fray, And is it thus, my gratitude and thanks, Thy nobly daring service shall repay. Brute as thou art, 'tis not for thee to trace, The cause whence flows the rugged soldier's tear; And yet thou know's it flows not from disgrace, For, thou hast borne me thro' the war's career. When my bright scabbard bounded by thy side, And shouts of victory our toils repaid, The stately curvet, and the pacing stride, None of our troops so gracefully displayed. When charg'd by treble numbers we have fled, Oppress'd, and spent, the glance of thy quick eye Has cheer'd my drooping soul, as if it said, We'll live together, or together die. And once (the time to memory is dear) Plung'd from thy back in the contentious strife, No brother comrade to assist me near Thy friendship, brutal friendship, saved my life. Keen was the frost, the drifting snow fell thick Upon the plain, where late the battle rag'd. Benumb'd with cold, my heart was deathly sick, When my pale looks thy fostering care engag'd, Thy body thou didst gently bend to earth, And pressing to my breast its glowing heat. I felt the vital current gain new birth— I felt the chilly hand of death retreat. The memory of that unnerves my hand; 'Tis that enforces the unmanly tear! To singly charge the foe be their command, I know a soldier's duty to revere. If on the "hope forlorn" I am doom'd to go, Still 'tis my duty, and I'll not repine! But I must perish, ere forget to know, Thy body fed the vital spark in mine.
Colonel O'Kelly's famous horse Dungannon.
This celebrated racer is the sire of many famous horses; he is the son of the famous Eclipse, was foaled in 1780, and bred by colonel O'Kelly himself.
The exploits of this famous racer are still fresh in the memory of all frequenters of the turf; and that his figure may survive with his fame, a most spirited print of him is published in England, in which he is drawn accompanied by a sheep. A story attaches to this curious coalescence, which we think worth relating to our readers.
As a drover was passing by colonel O'Kelly's on his way with a flock of sheep for Smithfield market, one of them became so lame and sore-footed, that it could travel no further. The man wishing to get rid of the impediment, took up the distressed animal, and dropped it over the pales of a paddock belonging to Mr. O'Kelly, where the race-horse was then grazing, and pursued his journey, intending to call for the sheep, upon his return back to the farmer who had employed him, believing the creature after a little rest, would quickly recover. This was the case, and an attachment between the two rangers of the little paddock presently took place, almost to surpass probability. It is related by evidence indisputable, that such was the affection of Dungannon for the sheep, that besides sporting with it in various ways, he would sometimes take it in his mouth by the neck with great tenderness, and lift it into the crib where the groom deposited his fodder, as much as to say, though you are not able to reach it, I will help you to the banquet. Besides this, the horse would on all occasions defend his new friend, and suffered no one to offer him the least molestation.
Mr. O'Kelly being made acquainted with these circumstances, resolved to make the sheep his own, bought him of the farmer, and marked the wool with his own initials, D. O'K. and left the two friends in peaceable possession of the paddock and its adjoining shelter.
Mr. Stubbs the painter, being acquainted with these facts when he requested leave to paint Dungannon, also introduced the portrait of the sheep, as a lasting memento of the unusual affection that subsisted between two creatures, so dissimilar in appearances, and so opposite in their pursuits.
On Friday the 10th of April a very extraordinary wager was decided upon the road between Cambridge and Huntingdon. A gentleman of the former place, had betted a considerable sum of money, that he would go a yard from the ground, upon stilts, the distance of twelve miles within the space of four hours and a half: no stoppage was to be allowed, except merely the time taken up in exchanging one pair of stilts for another; and even then his feet were not to touch the ground. He started at the second mile-stone from Cambridge on the Huntingford road, to go 6 miles out and 6 miles in: the first he performed in one hour and fifty minutes, and did the distance back in two hours and three minutes, so that he went the whole in three hours and fifty three minutes, having thirty-seven minutes to spare beyond the time allowed him; he appeared a good deal fatigued, and his hands, we understand, were much blistered from the continual pressure upon one part. This, we believe, is the first performance of the kind ever attempted; but as novelty appears to attract, as well as direct, the manners of the age, stilting may possibly become as fashionable in these, as tilting formerly was in better times.