pitiful object to behold.  The pictures and engravings of twenty years ago bear witness to the degree of “wasting” to which a horse was reduced on the eve of a race, and the caricatures of the period are hardly over-drawn when they exhibit to us the ghost of an animal mounted by a phantom jockey.  When people saw that Jennings was able to bring to the winning-post horses in good condition, whose training had been based upon nothing but regular work, they at first looked on in astonishment, but afterward found their profit in imitating his example.  Under this rational system it has been proved that the animal gains in power and endurance while he loses nothing in speed.  The same intrepid trainer has ventured upon another innovation.  Impressed with the inconveniences of shoeing, and annoyed by the difficulty of finding a skilful smith in moving from one place to another in the country, he conceived the idea of letting his horses go shoeless, both during training and on the track; and, despite all that could be urged against the practice his horses’ feet are in excellent condition.  His many successes on the turf have not, however, been crowned, as yet, by the Grand Prix de Paris, though in 1877 he thought to realize the dream of his ambition with Jongleur, whom he had trained and whom he loved like a son; and when the noble horse was beaten by an outsider, St Christopher, “Old Hat” could not control an exhibition of ill-humor as amusing as it was touching.  When Jongleur died Jennings wept for perhaps the first time in his life, and he was still unable to restrain his tears when he described the tortures of the poor beast as he struck his head against the sides of his box in the agonies of lockjaw.

Let us close our list—­in which, however, we have endeavored to enumerate only the principal figures upon the French turf—­with two names; and first that of the young Edmond Blanc, heir to the immense fortune gained by his late father as director of the famous gaming-tables of Monaco.  The latter, like a prudent parent, forbade his son to race or to play, and Edmond, obeying the letter of the law—­at least during the lifetime of his father—­was known, if known at all upon the course, under the pseudonyme of James.  At present, however, he is the owner of an important stud and stable which are constantly increasing, and which bid fair before long to take rank amongst the principal establishments in the country.  Waggish tongues have whispered that when he had to make choice of colors he naturally inclined to “rouge et noir,” but finding these already appropriated by M. Lupin, the representative of “trente et quarante” was forced to content himself with tints more brilliant perhaps, but less suggestive.  But let him laugh who wins.  The annals of the turf for 1879 inscribe the name of M. Blanc as winner of the Grand Prix de Paris.  It was his mare, Nubienne, who first reached the winning-post by a neck in a field of eleven horses, M. Fould’s Salteador being second, with barely a head between him and the third, Flavio II., belonging to the comte Frederic de Lagrange.