“On Saturday, September 28th, 1762, Blue Cap and Wanton, ye property of Mr. Smith-Barry, Master of ye Cheshire, in a match over ye Beacon course at Newmarket, beat a couple of Mr. Meynell’s (ye Quorn), one of which was Richmond. Sixty horses started with ye hounds. Mr. Smith-Barry’s huntsman, Cooper, was ye first up, but ye mare that carried him was quite blind at ye end. Only twelve got to ye end. Will Craine, who trained ye Cheshire hounds, came in twelfth on Rib. Betting was 6 to 4 on Meynell’s.” According to Daniel the race was run at fully thirty miles an hour. From an inn named after an hound, we pass to another in the same county, much more curious and antique in its thatched roof gables and old furniture, which keeps green the memory of a splendid racehorse. The _Smoker_ at Plumbley has nothing to do with tobacco. The portrait of the old horse, together with the arms of Sir George Leicester, father of the first Baron de Tabley, owner of the horse, have been painted on the signboard by the daughter of Lady Leighton Warren, a member of this family. Inns are no longer betting centres, but their owners are keenly interested in sport, and many jovial souls still notch calendars by racing events, referring to some local episodes as having occurred “in the year when Stickphast won the Derby.” Although the _Running Horse_ was a Hanoverian emblem, most of the houses of this name within a few miles of Epsom must owe their origin to the racing fraternity. The old _Running Horse_ at Sandling, near Maidstone, so students of Dickens declare, suggested Mr. Pickwick’s adventure with the eccentric steed, hired for the benefit of Mr. Winkle. Bowls is still almost as favourite a pastime at the old inns as it was in the days of Sir Francis Drake. In East Anglia the greens are often of remarkable size and beautifully kept. The finest bowling green in the South of England is, we believe, that behind the _Queen’s Head_ at Hawkhurst, an old-fashioned house to be visited for its sweet situation and cosy arrangements--as well as for the almost unique collection of old furniture gathered together by the late Mr. Clements. On the lawn of the _Anchor_ at Hartfield, a game is in vogue called “Clock Golf,” which we have seen nowhere else, but which possesses its attractions.