Of more robust interest is the elegy in April, 1865, on the "Transit of Tattersall's," when the old mart for selling horses in Grosvenor Place at the side of St. George's Hospital, founded by "Old Tatt," was pulled down and a move made to Knightsbridge Green. "Old Tatt," originally studgroom to the Duke of Kingston, leased the premises at Hyde Park Corner from the Earl of Grosvenor in 1766, set up as a horse auctioneer, and founded his fortunes by the purchase for £2,500 of the famous racer Highflyer from Lord Bolingbroke:-- Good bye, old Corner, where so long Turf swells have loved to band, Since first old Tatt his broad-brimmed hat Showed in the well-known stand. Where, ninety years of hopes and fears, And nine to back of that, The sporting swell with nags to sell Still found a Tit for Tatt. * * * * * If walls have ears, what startling tales, Those old rooms must have heard: What sermons they might preach, the stones That paved that old court-yard! * * * * * By those oak-pales the first Oaks' stakes Were put down long ago: Germ of that Epsom growth that now All ring-fence doth outgrow. There the first Derby favourite Was measured by the yard: And there a century's Sellengers[12] Fortunes have made or marred. Till the world grew so fond of "books," So giv'n to make the same, That the old ground too small was found, For the Turf's "little game"; As from _his_ Grosvenor Place old Tatt Started to win life's race, Young Tatt, on fortune bent, again Takes flight from Grosvenor Place. At Knightsbridge, lo, a fair glass roof Stands for the dark old sheds: We've tiles as shiny 'neath our feet, As those upon our heads: But still we love the haunts where first The Turf's keen breath we drew: And what recalls those ancient halls We best love in the new-- The old brown fox, that from his box Still peers with artful face, A hint that to the sharp as well As swift, is given the race. We miss the verdant lawn, where paced Crowds of green men and still: The gravelled walk, which losers oft More gravelled, used to fill: And sadder loss than all--no more The old cow crops the lawn: Meek monitor of draughts to come From milch-cows yet undrawn! Good bye, old yard, and may the new As long its honours wear; And though they leave the Corner still, May Tatts be on the Square! [Footnote 12: St. Legers.] Even so small an event as the giving up in 1865 of his business by Farrance, the confectioner's at Charing Cross, was not allowed to pass without due homage:-- Other Farrances may rise, Quite as bilious as before, But the old familiar pies (Veal and Ham) will glad our eyes Nevermore, O nevermore!