SOUTHERN SPORTS.

415

red-hot steamboats raging along, neck-and-neck, straining every nerve
—that is to say, every rivet in the boilers—quaking and shaking and
groaning from stem to stern, spouting white steam from the pipes,
pouring black smoke from the chimneys, raining down sparks, parting

the river into long breaks of hissing foam
—this is sport that makes a body's very
liver curl with enjoyment. A horse-race
is pretty tame and colourless in compari-
son. Still, a horse-race might be well
enough, in its way, perhaps, if it were
not for the tiresome false starts. But then,
nobody is ever killed. At least, nobody was ever killed when I was
at a horse-race. They have been crippled, it is true ; but this is little
to the purpose.