The most important race at Gatwick—­(delightful place to go racing—­lots of room to move about in)—­is the Thousand Pound Handicap, in which race Brandy is worth keeping an eye on, as she ought to beat Burnaby at the difference in the weights—­other horses that might make their mark during the week—­(especially now the ground is soft)—­are, Pilot, Golden Garter—­(I never was guilty of such extravagance as that)—­Queen of Navarre—­(she might have been)—­Meadow Brown, Terror, and Seawall, the last three in the “Jumping Races”—­and, in conclusion, the inevitable rhythmical winner, from

Yours devotedly, LADY GAY.

ORLEANS NURSERY SELECTION.

  The man who would back any other
    Appears but a gander to be,
  For the horse that all comers will smother
    Is certainly Tanderagee!

* * * * *

[Illustration:  DIGNITY AND IMPUDENCE.

“I SAY, GUV’NER!  WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO BE TOOK DOWN FOR HALTERATIONS AND REPAIRS?”]

* * * * *

MY SEASON TICKET.

  Ever against my breast,
  Safe in my pocket pressed,
  Ready at my behest,
    Daintily pretty
  Gilt-printed piece of leather,
  Though fair or foul the weather,
  Daily we go together
    Up to the City. 
  Yet, as I ride at ease,
  Papers strewn on my knees,
  And I hear “Seasons, please!”
    Shouted in warning: 
  Pockets I search in vain
  All through and through again;
  “Pray do not stop the train—­
    Lost it this morning. 
  No, I have not a card,
  Nor can I pay you, Guard—­
  Truly my lot is hard,
    This is the reason,
  Now I recall to mind
  Changing my clothes, I find
  I left them all behind,—­
    Money, cards, ‘Season.’”

* * * * *

WRITTEN A HUNDRED YEARS HENCE.

(FROM A COLLECTION OF COMMUNICATIONS SUPPLIED BY OUR PROPHETIC COMPILER.)

DEAR MR. PUNCH,—­Pray protect the Griffin!  Those Goths and Vandals, the Members of the Corporation of the City of London, will remove it, unless you intervene.  This beautiful work of Art, that stands on the supposed site of the mythical Temple Bar, is to come down.  What would our ancestors say if they were here?  Would they not frown at their degenerate descendants?  Every student of history knows that this Griffin was put up by universal consent, and considered one of the finest works of art of the nineteenth century.  As, indeed, it was.  It is full of historic memories.  It was here that WELLINGTON met NAPOLEON after Waterloo; and here, again, was the Volunteer Movement inaugurated, when Mr. Alderman WAT TYLER, putting himself at the head of the citizens, called for “Three cheers for the Charter and the Anti-Corn-Law League!” The beautiful bas-reliefs that used to represent the occasions have disappeared, but their subjects are tenderly cherished.  If the Corporation must pull down something, let them destroy the recently-erected Mansion House! but spare, oh spare, the Griffin!