followers than Edmund Tattersall, who will also occasionally get away for a day or two's really wild fox-hunting over the hills and down the dales of the South Wilts. Far oftener seen now on a course, his senior is a close, keen observer of a race, of which his father professed to know so little; but with all his fondness for a cigar, the son still keeps up the old régime, and "you can't smoke here" is the instant greeting to the innocent stranger, no matter how illustrious, who thus seeks to while away his half-hour at the hammer. We were rather amusingly reminded of this prohibition the other day, when looking. through Mr. Joy's clever grouping of the portraits proper to the yard on a Monday, and where in some relief to the sameness of gentlemen standing for their pictures, he had armed one with a cigar, which, like Hotspur's fop, he held daintily 'twixt his finger and his thumb. But a word of caution served to erase the objectionable weed, and the artist was left to try for another effect from a catalogue, a hunting-crop, or a tooth-pick.

Although the Hyde Park Corner lease will not expire until Michaelmas next, it was very judiciously determined to open the new premises just on the first blush of the season; leaving the Messrs. Tattersall time to look about for other houses for themselves, as none are provided at Knightsbridge, and giving the old Subscription Room over to Mr. Joy, who will have his two companion pictures of The Lawn and The Yard on exhibition here during the summer. Some three or four-and-twenty years since this old room was the new, as built after a design by the late Mr. George Tattersall, an architect by profession, but who wrote and illustrated his own papers as "Wilddrake," and was for some time editor of the New Sporting Magazine. His American sketches, given after a tour in those parts in company with his brother, were more especially noticeable for their spirit and humour. But we may fairly turn our backs on it now as the old place, and wending our way down past Albert Gate until we reach to top of Sloane Street, take the left of the two courses open to us where the road splits for Kensington and Brompton. In a few paces more we face a new store-coloured building that might be a bazaar or some well-conducted manufactory, if Subscribers' Entrance on the near side postern did not proclaim at least one purpose of the edifice. The frontage is plain and unpretending enough, but there will be a fine sweep up to the entrance, the most of which can be made, as the Messrs. Tattersall have taken care to secure possession of the little bit of waste land in the centre that gives a habitation and a name to the locality as Knightsbridge-green. A speculator offered the firm a liberal rental for this, with the object of erecting a refreshment stall, but it was very wisely considered that such a business would greatly interfere with the approach, and the eating and drinking department will be in the hands of the landlord of the adjoining " Pakenham," who, if he only cares to cultivate his trade, is bound to make a fortune. Having no particular fancy for a favourite to day, we prefer to avail ourselves of the Public Entrance on the right, and escaping that long lane which led to the Corner, find ourselves at once at the businessoffices of the firm. These include on the ground floor the public office, with a sliding window-front, through which catalogues will be given, and the partners' own private room; while on the upper storey the accommodation for the Jockey Club will be re-established in a couple of

light cheerful rooms, with a good look-out, and with the further recommendation of that quiet and privacy so necessary when engaged over a delicate investigation or a nice point of racing law. If anything, the offices will strike the visitor as somewhat small, as, in fact, no doubt they are, in comparison with other parts of the building, the architect having allowed himself more play in planning and joining on a capital house for Carter, the manager, the only person who, with his family, will be in permanent residence. Passing on, we enter the Yard, the scene of our illustration, and which is as superior to that at Hyde Park Corner as the Agricultural Hall is as a show-place to the Baker-street Bazaar. Following also the Crystal Palace precedent, a glass roof gives plenty of light from above, which, backed by a great altitude, altogether relieves the somewhat depressing effect of being covered in, and conveys, with all the advantages of height, space, and happy construction, a feeling of freedom and positive enjoyment, as one remembers the crush of old, when a lot of any repute came out. The auctioneer's box is placed in the extreme right-hand corner from where you enter, and the ride, serving as a boundary line or border, encircles the whole yard, so that every opportunity will be available for seeing a horse go. In the centre of the open area, in which buyers and lookers-on will congregate, rises a cupola, where the famous old fox, duly enshrined, will preside over a goodly company of dolphins, and a drinking-fountain vicethe pump, while His Gracious Majesty King George IV. will reign. supreme from above, the long-lost bust having been thoroughly renovated and becomingly armed with a new nose. All around, in one range as it were, is the stabling, consisting of 95 stalls and 20 boxes; admirably disposed, as planned and finished with every possible convenience and precaution. The very situation, indeed, of the boxes, somewhat in the rear, will ensure that quiet and freedom from excitement so essential to stud horses, brood mares, and young things, a goodly number of the boxes being further provided with roomy openings for the especial accommodation of the foals as they will rush out by the sides of their dams. There is, too, a certain notion of rest and retirement associated with all the boxes, in very favourable contrast with those at the Corner, where, moreover, it often struck us that, particularly on the upper side, a horse never showed quite to advantage, the rising ground having the effect of making him look a little high on the leg. The stalls at

Knightsbridge, on the contrary, are so roomy and deep, with the partitions carried so high to prevent accidents, that a nag may look smaller than he is, till you get alongside, or fairly have him out. With every one of the nine-five, with its own arch, with capital fittings, an ample supply of water laid on, and every means ensured for obtaining proper ventilation and carrying off all improper effluvia, there is a spacious promenade for the visitor, so that he need feel no anxiety as to getting too near to the heels of a strange horse. The double stable, again, gives none of that notion of running the gauntlet which a nervous gentleman might have experienced in the large stable in Grosvenor-place, especially when the bald-faced chesnut hung back on his collar-rein, with the white of his eye well displayed, and the little mare on the opposite side seemed inclined to lash out from sheer sympathy. Good accommodation for man and horse is, in fact, the inscription that should be placed over the doorways of the New Tattersall's, a principle carried out by everything

that ability can devise or liberality provide. On the left, when immediately entering the Yard, is a spacious staircase, which leads to the carriage gallery above, and from which, no doubt, many a heavy bid will be given by those who do not care to encounter the busy throng below. The gallery is "fed" by an hydraulic lift, by which the drags, carts, and phaetons will be conveyed to their several standings, and be always on view; another improvement on the carriage avenue at the Corner, into which few ever wandered until they had lost their way or their reckoning.

And now having seen that Rochester horse, "well known with the Oakley," knocked down by Mr. Edmund at double the price we had made up our minds to give for him, let us, if you please, get out of hearing of that musical tap! and try our way out on the other side, just looking in at the Room as we go to lay out our even pony that Liddington beats Breadalbane, first home, for the Two Thousand, the Derby, or whenever they meet. There is another entrance here handy the Yard, and in a moment you find yourself in one of the grandest Rooms of which Mr. Freeman could have ever had the planning. Fortunately, as you see, it is so lofty; happily the width and breadth are so ample, or the decorations would have fairly beaten it. In an apartment of smaller dimensions the effect might have been flash and gaudy, but here the proportions serve to give a chasteness to a display of ornamental device, of which richness and magnificence are the groundwork. The very floor is paved with good intentions; and you make your way carefully-as you should feel your way here, my friend-over the most beautifully coloured bricks or tiles, that break out into all the prismatic hues of the rainbow, as old Sol, come to town at last, looks in during the afternoon to see if there is really anything doing on the Chester Cup. Still the eye readily finds relief in the delicate green and gold panelling, or the yet cooler marble mantelpieces, while the rich morocco lounge seats, which will run round the sides of the room, offer a little pleasant shade to those do not care to court the dazzling effulgence of what they called in olden times "The Gambler's Room"; and where, as Pope has it,

""Tis use alone that sanctifics expense,

And splendour borrows all her rays from sense."

It is but right, though, to say that the design has not yet been fully realized to us, for the decorators and their scaffolding were still in possession when we last looked in, all busy as bees for the approaching Ides of April. The room is flanked by a narrow slip of open-air promenade leading to the telegraph office, and so serving to remind members that the only pull the old place had over the new was the paddock, which it was utterly impossible to provide here. Some outdoor relief, however, has been offered by the brothers Mason, at Hendon, where Mr. Villebois' hounds will be sold by the Messrs. Tattersall at the end of this month; as in the first day's business at Knightsbridge will be included the hunting stud of Mr. Henry Chaplin, who has often bid as freely for a hunter as he has recently for a race-horse.

As we have already mentioned, Mr. Freeman is the architect and Messrs. Holland the builders, with the whole work planned and completed under the immediate superintendence of the Messrs. Tattersall.

In some tribute to the liberality and high character of the firm, it is grateful to add, in concluding this notice, that the inauguration of the New Tattersalls will be celebrated by a public dinner to Messrs. Richard and Edmund Tattersall on Tuesday, April the 11th, at Willis' Rooms, when Admiral Rous will preside, supported by the Duke of Beaufort and other leading sportsmen.

So much in goodly promise for the New Tattersall's, while in some remembrance of the old let us reproduce a sketch of what it was nearly a hundred years since. There is, unfortunately, no key to the group, though what "character" there is in the little gentleman with his hands on his hips, as having, no doubt, just struck into his favourite attitude. Can the oldest inhabitant help us to his identity? or would any leave and licence permit of Mr. Joy reproducing him in the Yard, where he would be worth his height in gold by way of nice antithesis to the swell-proper of modern times, in his eternal black hat and black coat? In another ninety-nine years, alas! what a curiosity this welldressed man will have become!

THE OLD AND NEW REGIME; OR, LIFE UNDER

PHOTOGRAPHY.

BY "WHIZ."

It was past meridian, half-past four, in the good old days of George and William the 4th, the monde and demi-monde as usual contending for supremacy, when the gifted and the foolish, the refined and the vulgar, the man of genius and the charlatan, the lord and the commoner find their way as best they can, or like, into its rank and file. As the London season advances, the world of fashion leave the fine old baronial halls and ivy-covered abbeys for town enjoment and gaiety. Dinners must be given and daughters married; coteries and cavalcades portend diplomatic arrangements, without reference to party feeling; the park becomes gaily tenanted, and London is fairly ensconced in a chaos of revelry and excitement. To attempt to bring back the past would be perfectly futile; still there is nothing like "good society." Sheridan once said, "I always take a box ticket: it takes to any part of the house." We must all admire the park, with its equestrian phalanx of fair-haired belles and swarthy eastern brunettes, as they rein in their sprightly hacks in Rotten-row, attended by courtiers and cavaliers discussing the last night's ball at Almack's, or Lady C's cellarius valse in May Fair. We had, once, old and young rapids-the Stanhopes, the Lennoxes, the Pembrokes, and the Hertfords, the Montgomeries and the Montmorencies, Hugo de Byffin, Esq., and Jack Brag; and well do we remember Count D'Orsay, perhaps the most accomplished Crichton of his clique the world ever produced. Brummell was a parvenue compared with him, as with cub, cab, and cob, D'Orsay drew up at the top of the ride, sunning himself in the afternoon heat, the observed of all observers, surrounded by some of the first-flight men in Leicestershire and Northamptonshire, on their five-hundred-guinea hunter-hacks, describing the last fast pas de seul of Taglioni, Fanny Essler, or Cerito, or the last best run over the Belvoir Vale. Up the ride came the young aspirant members of some midland-counties White's, Brook's, or Crockford's; whilst servants on clever valuable hacks bring their horses together and well up as only London men can do, and get intimate by degrees, like their masters, for (high-bred grooms, like well-bred men, are rather shy at first); and altogether such a scene presents itself, on a fine May afternoon, hardly to be equalled by any nation in the world. Outside the ring, and on the outskirts of the ride, the Four-in-hand Club drew up; and well do I remember Sir Harry Peyton's greys, Lord Sefton's white-legged chesnuts, Annerley's roans, Dolphin's pies and scewbalds, Smith Barry's whites, Lord Harborough's fast little browns, Russell's speedy bays, and Leicester's and Fitzroy Stanhope's greys and darkbrowns; perhaps the greatest dandies were the Stanhopes, and the most workmanlike coachman, &c., Sir Harry Peyton's, or Lords Sefton and Southampton; and methinks I see Sir Harry now, in my mind's eye, on the 1st of May, with his brown harnessed team in Hyde Park, new white hat, and rose in his button-hole, passing the nod of recognition to