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Webster  Fami!y  Library  of  Veterinary  Medicine 
Cumn-iings  School  of  Veterinary/  Medicine  at 
Tufts  University 
200  Westboro  Road 
Nori:h  Grafton,  MA  01536 


OVKRJl  MPKD    IIIMSKLF,   AND   DOWN   WE   CAME    A    REGULAR    BURSTER. 

FrontUjiexe.  Pages  16,  i; 


RACECOURSE  AND  COVERT  SIDE. 


ALFKED   E.  T.  WATSON, 

\UTHOR   OF   •'  SKETCHES   IN   THE  HUNTING    FIELD,"   ETC. 


/  W'"  *^JS'>-     ^  V'l'  "^     /-^ 

I'M  fr?fes^V'  i^  ■ 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  JOHN  STURGESS. 


LONDON: 

EICHAED    BENTLEY    AND    SON, 

?3ublisf)crs  in  ©rtiinarg  to  %tt  liHajcstg  tfjc  ©ueen. 

1883. 

(^All  rights  reserved.)  , 


^3 


f 


AFFECllONATKLY    DEDICATED 
TO   THE    BEST   OF   riUENDS, 

WILLIAM  HESELTINE   MUDFORD. 


PREFACE. 

Tpie  very  favourable  reception  accorded  to  my 
"  Sketches  in  the  Hunting  Field  "  has  induced 
me  to  hope  that  another  book  of  sketches  and 
stories,  on  precisely  the  same  lines,  may  have 
the  good  fortune  to  find  friends.  Of  this  I  am 
the  more  sanguine  as  Mr.  John  Sturgess,  who 
did  so  much  for  the  success  of  the  former 
volume,  has  again  given  me  his  most  valuable 
assistance. 

I  have  to  thank  the  proprietor  of  The  llhis- 
tratecl  Sjwrtiyig  and  Dramatic  Neios  and  the 
editor  of  The  Standard  for  permission  to  reprint 
matter  contributed  to  those  journals. 

A.  E.  T.  W. 

15,  C11EMI8T0N  Gardens,  Kensington,  W., 
Odvlvr,  1883. 


co:n^tents. 


The  Nicest  Little  Horse  in  the  Woklp     ...  ...         1 

After  the  Cubs         ...             ...  ...             ...              20 

"The  Merry  Harriers"...             ...  ...             ...       3-t 

"It  is  our  Opening  Day"       ...  ...             ...               46 

A  Mincing  Lane  M.  F.  H.             ...  ...             ...       58 

EiDiNG  TO  Hounds     ...             ...  ...             ...              73 

A  Sharp  Sportsman          ...             ...  ...             ...       81 

EouGH  Shooting         ...             ...  ...             ...               95 

Upset  ...             ...             ...             ...  ...             ...     102 

Rooks  and  Pigeons    ...             ...  ...             ...             130 

The  Spotted  Horse's  Story            ...  ...             ...     1(13 

Ax  Off  Chance         ...             ...  ...             ...             10-1 

A  Visit  to  a  Veteran  :  William  Day  and  Foxiiall        2 1 7 

The  Derby  Centenary            ...  ...             ...            228 

The  Ladies'  Day  at  Epsom            ...  ...             ...     237 

A  Goodwood  Cup  Day             ...  ...             ...            246 

A  Day  with  Tom  Cannon           ...  ...             ...     256 

Sport  and  Sportsmen  on  the  French  Coast       ...            271 

Behind  the  Scenes  at  the  Circus  ...             ...     284 

Betting        ...             ...             ...  ...             ...             298 

Jockeys                ...             ...             ...  ...             ...     306 


RACECOURSE  AND  COYERT  SIDE. 


THE    NICEST   LITTLE   HORSE    IN 
THE   WORLD. 

"I  THINK  we.  can  do  another  bottle,"  my  friend 
Greenwood  said,  more  decidedly  than  interro- 
gatively, as  he  emptied  the  decanter  into  our 
glasses. 

''It's  uncommonly  good  claret,"  I  answer, 
somewhat  indefinitely;  which,  being  interpreted, 
means  that  I  should  like  another  glass  but  am 
not  sure  I  ought  to  have  it.  Greenwood  shares 
my  sentiments,  and  rings  the  bell.  There  in  a 
warm  corner  is  the  bottle  of  Pontet  Canet ;  it 
is  tapped  with  the  care  it  merits,  and  placed  on 
the  little  table,  which,  dinner  being  over,  we 
have  drawn  up  before  the  fire.  A  warm,  crisp 
biscuit  is  also  produced — Greenwood's  man  had 
less  doubt  about  that  other  bottle  than  we  had 
— and  our  glasses  being  filled  we  settle  down  to 

I 


^2i  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

the  discussion  of  the  good  wine.  I  like  Green- 
wood extremely — I  don't  remember  ever  liking 
him  more;  and  I  am  certain  he  likes  me.  I 
feel,  in  fact,  on  good  terms  with  everybody, 
even  Chippenham.  The  things  he  said  about 
my  last  book  were  harsh  and  ridiculous.  It 
wasn't  criticism.  But  then,  perhaps  his  diges- 
tion was  not  all  that  it  might  have  been,  and 
I  forgive  him. 

The  room  is  so  comfortable,  the  chair  so 
easy,  the  fire  warm  without  being  scorching; 
the  cigarettes  are  within  easy  reach  when,  the 
claret  having  been  discussed,  we  are  inclined  to 
smoke,  and  the  lamp  on  the  bracket  throws  a 
mild  light  on  the  portrait  of  old  Eosalind,  the 
good  mare  over  whom  I  landed  a  nice  stake  in 
the  County  Steeplechase  just  when  I  wanted  it 
more  badly  than  usual  (if  so  slight  a  difference 
is  worth  naming),  and  who  carried  me  so  smoothly 
and  comfortably  on  many  subsequent  occasions, 
when  she  had  grown  a  bit  too  slow  for  successful 
exploits  between  the  flags. 

The  music  of  Mrs.  Greenwood's  piano  comes 
softly  and  pleasantly  through  the  curtained  door, 
and  her  sister  Ethel  sings  well  enough  to  make 
listening  to  her  a  pleasure.  A  charming  girl  she 
is,  too  ;  unaffected  and  clever.  Old  Fan,  the 
fox-terrier,  strolls  into  the  room,  looks  up  into 


THE    NICEST    LITTLE    HORSE    IN    THE    WORLD.        3 

my  face  to  see  if  I  am  a  frieud,  decides  that  I 
am,  and  cnrls  herself  up  by  my  side ;  and  being 
devotedy  attached  to  dogs,  I  consider  this  very 
polite  of  Fan. 

"  Fill  your  glass,  my  dear  fellow.  It  is  good 
wine,  isn't  it?"  says  Greenwood,  breaking  in 
upon  my  pleasant  reflections. 

"Excellent!"  I  reply,  and  I  mean  it.  "Eeally 
good  Pontet  Canet  has  a  richness,  delicacy,  and 
character  of  its  own,  which  seems  to  me  in- 
finitely superior  to  the  great  majority  of  those 
full-bodied  wines  that  give  so  many  men  the 
gout." 

''  I  thought  you'd 'like  it ;  and  you'll  like  that 
little  horse  you're  going  to  ride  to-morrow,  I'm 
sure,"  Greenwood  continued,  filling  his  own 
glass. 

"It's  very  good  of  you  to  mount  me,  for  I 
had  simply  nothing  to  bring,"  I  reply.  "  Have 
you  had  him  long  ?  Oh  no  !  You  bought  him 
at  the  last  Selwood  sale,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"Yes.  Quite  by  chance  I  went  there,  but  it 
was  a  very  lucky  chance,"  Greenwood  answered. 

"  Was  he  cheap  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Cheap  for  the  horse  he  is.  I  gave  .£180  for 
him.  Couldn't  resist  it  !  When  I  saw  that 
fellow  who  rides  them  round  take  him  over  the 
course,  I  determined  money  shouldn't  stop  me. 


4  RACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

Over  the  gate,  so  smoothly  he  scarcely  seemed 
to  rise  at  it  at  all ;  then  over  the  ditch  and  bank, 
just  like  handing  a  lady  downstairs,  and  took 
the  water  in  his  stride,  without  seeming  to  look 
at  it,"  was  Greenwood's  enthusiastic  description. 

"  He's  sound,  of  course,  or  you  wouldn't 
have  bought  him?"  (I  was  going  to  say  "or 
at  least  you'd  have  found  it  out  before  this ;  " 
but  the  other  way  of  putting  it  sounded  better, 
and  every  man  likes  to  be  credited  with  a  know- 
ledge of  horseflesh,  while,  as  a  matter  of  fact. 
Greenwood  was  pretty  shrewd.)  "And  is  he 
quiet  ?  I  heard  of  one  horse  that  was  sold  there 
with  the  character  of  being  quiet  in  the  saddle, 
because  they  said  they  didn't  know  much  about 
him.  He  was  a  demon  in  the  stable,  kicked  to 
pieces  any  sort  of  trap  that  he  was  harnessed  to, 
and,  as  every  horse  must  be  quiet  somewhere  or 
other,  they  gave  him  the  benefit  of  the  doubt, 
and  said  he  was  quiet  to  ride.     But  he  wasn't." 

Greenwood  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  my  dear  fellow ;  he's  not  one  of  that 
sort.    He's  the  nicest  little  horse  in  the  world." 

"  Can  he  gallop  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Gallop  as  fast  as  you  can  clap  your  hands, 
and  all  day  long." 

"And  jump?  " 

"  Jump  any  mortal  thing  you  send  him  at." 


THE    NICEST    LITTLE    HOESE    IN    THE    WORLD.        O 

''  Have  yoii  ridden  him  miicli  ?  "  I  ask. 

"  Pretty  well ;  but  some  of  the  old  ones 
come  out  and  take  their  turns,  you  know.  One 
I'm  going  to  ride  to-morrow  is  an  old  favourite  ; 
but  I  wanted  you  to  have  a  good  go  while  you 
were  down  here.  Fill  your  glass,  and  there  are 
the  cigarettes." 

''  I'm  afraid  I'm  taking  your  horse  ;  but  I 
took  you  at  your  word,  and  you  told  me  not  to 
bring  anything  if  I  would  leave  it  to  you  to 
mount  me,"  I  remark,  not  feeling  quite  comfort- 
able about  robbing  Greenwood  of  his  treasure. 

"  Quite  right  of  you.  I'm  well  horsed  at 
present,  and  am  glad  you  are  going  to  have  the 
new  one,  because  you'll  appreciate  him.  My 
wife  will  go  with  us,  and  just  follow  over  a  few 
fields  on  her  cob,  but  she  won't  worry  you " 

"  My  dear  fellow,  you  know "  I  break  in, 

but  he  continues. 

''  Yes,  of  course  ;  but  a  woman  isn't  always 
a  pleasant  companion  out  hunting.  She  is 
fond  of  going  with  her  uncle,  and  he  has  been 
accustomed  to  look  after  her.  She  likes  to 
come  back  early,  you  know,  and  so  doesn't  get 
too  far  away  from  home.  But  don't  you  fear 
about  your  little  horse.  The  further  he  goes 
the  more  he  likes  it.  I  don't  believe  you  could 
tire  him  ;  and  he'll  pull  at  you  coming  home — 


6  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

I  don't  mean  really  pull,  you  know,  but  go  up' 
into  his  bridle,  as  if  he  hadn't  well  started," 
Greenwood  says. 

"Didn't  they  try  a  steeplechase  with  him,  or 
a  hurdle  race,  or  something?  Why  don't  you 
have  a  shot  at  it  ?  "  I  inquire. 

"  Perhaps  I  may  some  day,  though  you  know 
what  sort  of  '  hunters '  one  meets  in  hunters' 
races.  I  don't  know  that  he  ever  did  run,  but 
he  seems  to  me  to  go  faster  and  to  get  away 
from  his  fences  quicker  than  lots  of  horses  that 
do  win  races,  though  he  jumps  so  easily.  How- 
ever, you'll  see  how  he  goes  to-morrow,  and 
we'll  have  another  talk  about  it." 

"It  might  be  worth  while,  you  know;  and 
if  he  turned  up  at  Sandown  or  somewhere,  with- 
out a  reputation,  the  ring  would  lay  odds  against 
hirn,  and  we  could  send  him  down  to  a  training 
stable  and  see  what  he  was  worth,"  I  continue. 
"  However,  we'll  think  about  that  later  on." 

"  Yes;  and  it  may  be  well  worth  thinking  of," 
Greenwood  responded.  "  Have  a  glass  of  sherry, 
or  try  that  Madeira  ?  A  cigarette  now  or  pre- 
sently ?  You  needn't  think  about  your  nerves 
with  a  horse  like  that  to  ride,  you  know.  No  ? 
— sure  ?  Yery  well,  then,  we'll  have  a  song. 
Go  to  bed.  Fan,  you  lazy  dog !  Sure  you're 
finished?     Then  we'll  go  to  the  drawing-room." 


THE    NICEST    LITTLE    HOESE    IN    THE    WORLD.         7 

Thither  we  went,  and,  as  Mrs.  Greenwood 
played  and  her  sister  sang,  wondered,  as  men 
have  often  done,  how  we  could  possibly  he  so 
material  as  to  remain  hehind,  drink  claret,  and 
talk  horse,  while  an  entertainment  so  infinitely 
more  delightful  was  awaiting  us  elsewhere.  A 
four-handed  game  at  billiards,  wherein  the  ladies 
played  particularly  well,  and  we  not  quite  up  to 
our  form,  terminated  a  delightful  evening. 
***** 

Fan  was  waiting  to  accompany  me  for  a 
stroll  before  breakfast  next  morning,  and  we 
sauntered  to  the  gate,  looked  up  and  down  the 
road,  passed  through  the  houses,  and  generally 
took  advantage  of  a  coimtry  morning — a  precious 
boon  to  those  who  dwell  habitually  in  London — 
before  breakfast.  Why  is  that  meal  so  mucJi 
more  pleasant  in  the  country  than  in  London  ? 
Metropolitans  pamper  their  appetites  with  the 
dainties  which  Piccadilly  produces  so  cunningly, 
but  the  homely  fare  of  the  country  is  beyond 
comparison  more  welcome. 

There  may  be  some  curious  reason  for  this, 
or  it  may  be  simply  that  for  human  lungs  air 
is  more  healthy  than  smoke ;  but  the  fact  re- 
mains. Greenwood  and  I  were  thoroughly  fit, 
however,  and  in  the  best  of  humours  he 
mounted  the  dog-cart  to   drive  to  the  meet — 


8  EACECOUESE   AND   COVEET   SIDE. 

some  six   miles   off — bis  wife   by  bis   side  and 
myself  bebind. 

We  were,  somebow  or  otber,  a  bit  late — a 
good  bit,  to  speak  freely — tbongb  bonestly  I  do 
not  tbink  tbat  otber  bottle  of  Pontet  Canet  bad 
anytbing  to  do  witb  it.  We  sped  along  at  a 
good  pace,  bowever,  tbings  looking  promising 
over  bead  and  under  foot ;  and  I  was  naturally 
eager  to  see  tbe  paragon  destined  to  carry  me. 

Pretty  Mrs.  Greenwood  made  brigbt  remarks 
about  tbings  in  general,  till  presently  sbe  in- 
quired of  ber  busband 

"  Have  you  told  Mr.  Eapier  about  tbe  borse?  " 
"Yes,  indeed/'  I  broke  in.  ''I'm  quite  un- 
happy at  depriving  Herbert  of  bis  mount.  He's 
most  entbusiastic  about  bim.  He  says  it's  tbe 
nicest  Uttle  borse  in  tbe  world ;  and  tbat's  going 
a  good  long  way,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"Y-es,"  Mrs.  Greenwood  replied,  witb  a 
good  deal  of  besitation,  I  tbougbt.  "  But  be's 
a  bit  awkward  to  mount,  isn't  be,  dear  ?  " 

"Ob,  it's  notbing ! "  Greenwood  replied. 
**  You  may  just  as  well  look  pretty  slippy 
about  getting  up,  but  be  means  no  barm;  tbere 
couldn't  be  a  better  tempered  borse.  It's  babit, 
you  know  ;  be  reacbes  round  a  bit  at  you." 

Of  course  tbere  is  no  absolute  perfection  to 
be  found,  eitber  equine  or  buman,  and  tbe  nicest 


THE    NICEST    LITTLE    HORSE    IN    THE    WORLD.        9 

little  horse  in  the  world  must  have  some  weak 
spot,  or  some  spot,  at  least,  weaker  than  the 
rest. 

*'  And  then  it's  a  good  thing  to  get  on  the 
grass  as  soon  as  possible,  isn't  it,  dear?"  the 
lady  observed  to  her  husband. 

"Yes,"  Greenwood  casually  replied;  ''he — 
er — ^jumps  about  a  little  sometimes.  Playful, 
you  know — eager  to  get  off,  that's  all ;  and  it's 
as  well  to  take  it  out  of  him  as  soon  as  possible." 

I  didn't  quite  like  this  trifling  admission. 

"  Kicker  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"No;    he    doesn't    kick "    Greenwood 

began. 

"Bucks  a  bit,  you  know,  Mr.  Eapier — ^just 
at  first,"  his  wife  put  in.  "  But  the  day  he  ran 
away ' ' 

"  He  never  ran  away,  my  dear !  "  inter- 
posed he. 

"  Well,  that  you  couldn't  quite  stop  him, 
you  know ; — he  was  not  bitted  properly." 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say  it  will  be  all  right.  Does 
he  do  anything  else?"  I  asked,  with  waning 
enthusiasm  for  the  paragon. 

"  No  ;  he's  a  beautiful  little  horse  to  ride, 
and  he'll  carry  you  like  a  bird.  Don't  check 
him  at  his  fences,  by-the-by.  He  jumps  bold 
■ — wants   holding   together;   but   he    was   a   bit 


10  RACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

awkward  with  me  one  day  when  I  interfered  with 
him.     Doesn't  Hke  to  be  baulked,  you  know." 

"Yes;  I  see,"  I  answered,  unavoidably  con- 
trasting the  eulogies  of  the  night  before  with 
the  somewhat  dubious  commendation  now  being 
passed  on  the  animal.     "  Does  he  pull  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least — wonderfully  light  mouth  ; 
that's  why  I  said  be  careful  not  to  check  him," 
was  the  response. 

A  wonderfully  light-mouthed  horse  that  is 
not  to  be  checked,  and  is  to  be  held  together, 
and  has  a  disposition  to  turn  awkward,  cannot 
be  regarded  as  a  model  animal.  It  is  difficult 
to  hit  on  the  precise  medium,  especially  if  the 
creature  does  not  chance  to  be  in  its  best  temper 
at  the  time.  A  horse  that  jumps  bold,  again, 
is  not  the  most  welcome  to  a  modest  rider ;  and 
what  with  the  "reaching  round  a  bit  " — which, 
if  it  means  anything,  means  kicking — while 
being  mounted,  and  the  bucking  a  little  when 
the  rider  is  in  the  saddle,  I  begin  thinking  of 
other  quiet  horses  from  Selwood,  and  trying  to 
remember  whether  it  was  three  ribs  or  merely 
a  collar-bone  that  I  heard  of  another  specimen 
of  them  breaking  for  his  rider. 

"  You'll  like  him  very  much  when  you've 
got  used  to  him,  I'm  sure,"  Mrs.  Greenwood 
cheerily  added ;  but  I  was  not  so  sure  by  any 


THE    NICEST    LITTLE    HORSE    IN    THE    WORLD.       11 

manner  of  means,  and  sat  for  some  time  in 
solemn  reflection  on  what  Greenwood  liad  said 
the  night  before. 

He  touched  the  mare  in  the  shafts  with  the 
point  of  his  whip,  and  we  rounded  the  corner  to 
the  Green  Man,  where  the  meet  had  been. 

"  We  are  late !  Look !  they've  all  gone. 
There's  uncle  beckoning — I  hope  he  isn't  angry 
— and  there  are  the  horses.  The  new  one's  a 
beautiful  creature,  isn't  he?"  Mrs.  Greenwood 
said ;  and  I  looked  along  the  road  to  see  her 
uncle  on  his  cob  waving  his  arm  to  us. 

A  handsome  grey  mare  with  a  side  saddle, 
and  two  horses  equipped  for  masculine  riders, 
were  being  led  about.  I  did  not  know  which 
was  "the  new  one,"  but  speedily  concluded  that 
the  animal  which  held  up  its  head,  pricked  its 
ears,  and  gazed  at  us  was  mine,  and  concerning 
him  I  felt,  to  be  candid,  the  reverse  of  comfort- 
able. 

I  jumped  down,  however,  helped  Mrs.  Green- 
wood to  descend,  and  shook  hands  with  her 
uncle,  who  was  slightly  put  out  at  our  delay, 
and  explained  that  the  hounds  had  been  gone 
five  minutes  at  least  to  draw  the  Crooked  Lane 
Spinney,  where  they  were  certain  to  find  a  fox  ; 
so  that  if  we  were  not  very  sharp  we  should 
miss  them. 


12  RACECOUBSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

*'Now,  don't  yoii  wait,  my  dear  fellow;  pray 
don't,"  Greenwood  said,  as  I  stood  by  while 
Mrs.  Greenwood's  horse  was  being  led  up  and 
the  gear  overhauled. 

Of  course  I  expostulated,  and  said  they 
wouldn't  be  a  minute,  and  we  had  better  all  go 
on  together ;  but  a  throat-lash  wanted  loosening 
and  the  girths  tightening,  and  they  both  urged 
me  to  be  off  lest  the  houods  should  get  away. 

^'  Just  down  the  green  lane  there  and  through 
the  gate  to  the  right,  and  you'll  see  them,  I 
expect.  Do  get  on!"  my  host  said;  and  at 
that  moment  it  occurred  to  me  that  if  I  was 
to  be  spilt,  the  affair  had  better  come  off  when 
they  were  not  all  watching  the  performance, 
so,  murmuring  that  if  they  thought  I'd  better 
I  would,  to  the  horses  I  made  my  way. 

When  I  came  to  look  at  him  closely,  the 
nicest  little  horse  in  the  world  really  did  not 
look  unamiable.  I  rather  liked  him,  in  fact,  but 
was  not  therefore  unduly  famihar. 

"  Kicks  a  bit,  doesn't  he  ?  "  I  asked  the  boy. 

*'No,  sir,"  he  replied,  as,  of  course,  he  was 
bound  to  reply ;  but  I  did  not  propose  to  give 
him  the  opportunity  of  kicking  me.  The  boy 
was  too  small  to  put  me  up,  and  I  should  not 
quite  have  liked  to  ask  him  had  he  been  bigger, 
perhaps ;   but   I   got   my   foot    in    the    stirrup. 


THE    NICEST    LITTLE    HOESE    IN    THE    WOKLD.       13 

measured  the  distance,  and  was  up  with  excep- 
tional rapidity.  I  never  got  on  a  horse  so 
quickly  in  my  life,  and,  determined  not  to  give 
him  time  to  buck  if  he  had  any  malicious  inten- 
tion of  the  sort,  I  sat  as  tight  as  I  knew  how 
and  set  him  going  down  the  green  lane.  To  do 
him  justice,  he  went  kindly  and  well,  pulling, 
too,  sufficiently  to  show  that  apprehensions  of 
upsetting  him  by  an  injudicious  touch  of  the 
reins  were  unfounded. 

And  I  was  none  too  soon.  As  I  neared  the 
spinney  and  saw  part  of  the  field,  a  burst  of 
music  came  from  among  the  trees,  and  the  men 
towards  whom  I  was  progressing  started  off, 
while  "  Tally-ho  !  gone  away  !  "  resounded  from 
the  other  side  of  the  covert. 

I  looked  back,  and  was  not  quite  certain 
whether  I  saw  my  friends  coming  on  as  we  sped 
round  the  corner  of  the  spinney.  To  check  the 
little  horse,  who  was  going  so  beautifully,  was 
out  of  the  question,  however,  and  on  we  sped 
over  a  big  grass  field  and  through  a  gate  at  the 
other  end  of  it,  then  abruptly  to  the  right  and 
on  to  what  was  luckily  a  low  and  thin  hedge. 
"Don't  check  him,  and  hold  him  together," 
were  my  instructions,  and  I  endeavoured  to 
fulfil  them,  though  I  had  begun  to  feel  that 
there  was  no  reason  for  special  caution,  and  to 


14  RACECOUKSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

wonder  what  Greenwood  could  have  done  to  get 
Tip  the  back  of  so  good  a  httle  horse. 

To  the  fence  we  came,  and  I  steadied  him, 
in  anticipation  of  his  jumping  big,  according  to 
the  warning.  Instead,  however,  he  sHd  over 
"  so  smoothly  he  scarcely  seemed  to  rise  at  it," 
as  Greenwood  had  said  the  night  before,  when 
describing  his  performance  at  the  gate. 

"It  only  shows,"  I  thought,  "that  when 
properly  handled  a  horse  will,  as  a  rule,  go 
properly."  For  this  is  the  kind  of  reflection  one 
may  have,  though  it  does  not  sound  well  to 
mention  it. 

To  the  ridge  and  furrow  he  accommodated 
himself  perfectly,  jumped  a  gap  in  the  calmest 
and  kindest  manner,  and  galloped  on  over  the 
meadow — hounds  were  running  with  the  scent 
breast  high — as  Greenwood  had  said,  "  like  a 
bird."  Is  he  getting  away  with  me  ?  Can  I 
hold  him  ?  I  thought,  and  laid  hold  of  the 
reins,  but  he  came  back  without  the  slightest 
fuss,  and  I  began  to  confess  that  he  merited  the 
character  he  had  received  over  the  Pontet 
Canet. 

A  slight  check  occurred  in  the  plough  beyond, 
and  I  had  time  to  look  round.  Nothing  was  to 
be  seen  of  Greenwood,  which  I  could  not  under- 
stand, for  he  ought  to  have  been  pounding  on 


THE    NICEST   LITTLE    HOKSE    IN    THE    WORLD.       15 

behind.  His  wife  and  her  uncle  would  probably 
turn  up  at  the  corner  of  some  road  or  other,  for 
he  knew  the  country  as  well  as  the  foxes ;  but  I 
was  just  wondering  what  could  have  become  of 
my  host  when  Dairymaid  hit  it  off  by  the  poplars 
in  the  hedge,  the  little  horse  jumped  into  his 
bridle,  and  once  more  we  were  away. 

For  an  hour  and  ten  minutes  over  a  charm- 
ing country  we  pursued  that  good  fox,  and  then 
he  saved  his  brush  in  a  drain,  where  he  was  left 
to  fight  another  day.  After  trying  two  or  three 
other  draws,  we  had  a  rattling  gallop  after 
a  second  fox;,  and  about  four  o'clock,  w4ien  he 
seemed  to  be  lost  and  I  was  some  fifteen  miles 
from  home,  I  pulled  up  and  turned  my  horse's 
head  homewards. 

No  horse  coald  have  gone  better.  Whether 
he  had  a  sufiicient  turn  of  speed  to  w^in  a  race 
was  perhaps  another  matter,  but  as  a  hunter  for 
a  steady-going  man,  I  could  well  understand  his 
master  describing  him  as  the  nicest  little  horse 
in  the  w^orld.  He  travelled  home,  moreover,  as 
Greenwood  had  said  he  would  do,  "as  if  he 
hadn't  well  started,"  though  w^e  had  gone  far 
and  fast ;  and  if  his  master  did  not  like  him, 
nothing  but  the  trifling  difficulty  of  knowing 
how  to  put  my  hand  on  the  money  would  have 
prevented  me  from  buying  him. 


IC  RACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

I  was  debating  ways  and  means  when  we 
reached  the  house  and  trotted  into  the  stable- 
yard. 

''Your  master  back?"  I  asked  the  groom 
who  came  to  take  my  horse. 

"Yes,  sir;  he  came  home  early,"  the  lad 
answered ;  and  I  proceeded  to  the  house,  where, 
in  the  drawing-room,  was  Greenwood,  reclining 
in  an  easy  chair,  his  wife  looking  on  with 
affectionate  solicitude,  and  her  sister  Ethel  also 
watching  tenderly. 

"  Where  did  you  get  to  ?  I've  been  expect- 
ing you  to  turn  up  all  day !  "  I  exclaimed. 

Greenwood  smiled  rather  faintly. 

"  I  had  a  bit  of  a  spill Oh,  it's  nothing ; 

I'm  not  hurt,"  he  said.  "  Just  shaken,  you 
know." 

"But  how  was  it?"  I  inquired.  "I'm  so 
sorry ;  for  it  doesn't  seem  fair  for  me  to  have  had 
such  good  fun  by  myself.  How  did  it  happen  ? 
You  were  riding  an  old  favourite,  too,  were  not 
you?" 

"Well — I  hadn't  my  own  saddle,  and  in  the 
hurry  of  getting  off,  as  we  were  late,  you  know, 
I  was  careless,  I  suppose.  I  didn't  remember 
what  I  was  on,  and  he  was  in  a  bad  temper — I 
never  knew  him  so  before  :  it  amazed  me — but 
he  got  away  and  overjumped  himself,  and  down 


THE    NICEST    LITTLE    HORSE    IN    THE    WORLD.       17 

we  came  a  regular  burster.  I'm  glad  you  were 
not  riding  him ;  very  glad  it  happened  as  it 
did,"  Greenwood  exclaimed. 

"  But  you  were  on  one  of  your  old  favourites, 
were  not  you  ?  "  I  asked  again. 

"  Well,  no  ;  he  was  not  the  horse  that  I 

It  was  my  fault,  you  know.  I  ought  to  have 
shown  you;  though  I  am  very  glad  I  did 
not." 

A  light  broke  in  upon  me  as  he  spoke. 

''  My  dear  fellow  !  Did  I  take  your  horse? 
I  believe  I  did !  I'm  awfully  sorry.  I  hadn't 
an  idea "  I  began. 

"  Of  course  not.  It  didn't  in  the  least 
matter ;  in  fact,  I'm  very  glad  as  it  turned  out. 
It  didn't  signify  what  you  rode,  but  I  thought 
the  new  one  would  have  carried  you  best,"  he 
went  on,  moving  in  his  chair  as  he  spoke,  and 
giving  vent  to  a  little  exclamation  of  pain  or 
discomfort. 

"But,  really,  I  ayji  sorry!"  I  continued. 
*'  Now  that  I  think  of  it,  I  don't  know  why  I 
imagined  the  horse  I  got  on  was  the  one  you 
meant  for  me.  Your  back  was  to  me,  as  you 
were  looking  after  Mrs.  Greenwood's  horse,  and 
I  jumped  up  and  galloped  off,  so  that  he 
shouldn't  have  time  to  play  the  fool." 

Mrs.    Greenwood   smiled    kindly,    which    I 


/( 


18  BACECOUESE    AND    COVEKT    SIDE. 

thought  very  nice  of  her,  though  I  was  cer- 
tainly in  no  way  to  blame,  if  blame  there  were 
attaching  to  any  one ;  but,  then,  when  their 
husbands  9.re  damaged,  wives  are  not  always 
logical. 

"  It's  just  as  well  to  find  out  what  the  horse 
is  without  having  any  harm  done,"  she  said. 
"  I  never  quite  liked  him,  in  spite  of  his  good 
looks ;  but  Herbert  was  so  enthusiastic  about 
the  way  he  went  at  Selwood.  I'm  sure  he 
behaved  like  a  perfect  brute  to-day.  He  would 
not  stand  still  for  a  moment,  and  then,  after 
giving  Herbert  a  lot  of  trouble,  he  bolted  and 
came  down  at  a  fence.  It  frightened  me  dread- 
fully ;  but  there's  no  harm  done  beyond  a  bit  of 
a  sprain,  and  when  he's  quite  well  again,  I  shall 
tell  him  that  it  served  him  right,"  she  gently 
added. 

Ethel  smiled  sympathy  on  all,  and  Green- 
wood expressed  himself  fit  to  go  and  dress 
for  dinner,  once  more  declaring  his  satisfac- 
tion at  the  circumstance  that  I  had  made  the 
innocent  mistake  of  getting  into  the  wrong 
saddle. 

Even  the  Pontet  Canet  could  not  revive  the 
sentiments  that  had  been  uttered  the  night 
before.  Greenwood  confessed  that  he  was  sadly 
disappointed;  and  at  Tattersall's  shortly  after- 


THE    NICEST   LITTLE    HOESE    IN    THE    WOELD.         19 

wards  the  animal  was  sold  for  less  than  a  third 
of  what  he  gave  for  it.  One  of  the  worst  deals 
he  ever  made  was  for  "  the  nicest  little  horse  in 
the  world,"  and  I  am  sincerely  glad  that  I  never 
got  on  his  back. 


AFTEK   THE   CUBS. 

*'  The  hounds  will  be  at  Hatcham  Pond  at  five 
o'clock  sharp,"  my  friend  the  commodore  says, 
as  I  climb  into  the  dog-cart  at  his  door  after  a 
cheery  evening  ;  "  and  if  you  look  in  as  you  pass, 
at  a  quarter  to  five,  I'll  be  ready." 

"You  will? — on  the  w^ord  of  a  British 
sailor  ?  "  I  ask  ;  and  replying  in  the  negative  to 
his  inquiry  as  to  whether  I  should  like  to  hear 
him  swear,  I  drive  off  to  my  cottage,  to  get  as 
much  rest  as  is  possible  under  the  circumstances, 
having  ordered  my  mare  to  be  sent  round  at  a 
quarter-past  four. 

These  are  early  hours  for  the  unaccustomed 
riser,  and  the  night  spent  under  such  circum- 
stances is  likely  to  be  a  disturbed  one.  I  wake 
with  a  start  and  an  impression  that  I  have  over- 
slept myself,  strike  a  light,  look  at  my  watch, 
and  find  that  it  is  a  little  more  than  half-past 
one.  A  couple  of  hours'  more  sleep  may  safely 
be  taken  ;  but  at  the  expiration  of  twenty  minutes 
or  so  again  I  open  my  eyes,  and  have  a  vision  of 


AFTER  THE  CUBS.  21 

my  friend  peering  through  the  darkness  at  his 
lodge-gates  and  indulging  in  a  variation  of  those 
verbal  exercises  which  I  declined  to  hear  last 
night. 

The  clock  strikes  two,  and  again  I  am  re- 
lieved, to  undergo  a  similar  fright  at  five  minutes 
past  three,  and  then,  out  of  a  desire  to  be  calm 
and  not  flurry  about  it,  overdo  it  by  some  ten 
minutes,  put  on  the  wrong  boots,  begin  to  button 
the  right  gaiter  on  the  left  leg,  and  hastily  eating 
a  mouthful  of  bread  and  swallowing  a  tumbler  of 
qualified  milk,  slam  the  door  behind  me,  having 
forgotten  to  pick  up  my  gloves  from  the  table. 
Thus  the  ill-regulated  and  over-anxious  mind 
comports  itself. 

The  mare  is  not  there,  so  I  run  round  to  the 
stable  to  find  her  attendant  giving  her  the  finish- 
ing touches,  and  in  a  very  few  seconds  we  are  on 
our  way  to  see  what  the  young  entry  have  to  say 
to  the  Wessex  cubs.  Mist  is  the  prevailing 
feature  of  the  morning.  It  rolls  and  hovers  over 
the  fields  in  dense  clouds,  distorting  the  surface 
of  the  country  and  giving  familiar  landmarks  an 
aspect  quite  different  from  their  daily  appear- 
ance. 

The  harvest  is  not  yet  in,  and  though  work 
cannot  begin  so  early,  from  one  wicket-gate  a 
couple  of  labourers  appear,  and  another  old  man 


22  EACECOURSE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

is  trudging  wearily  down  the  road.  Lights  gleam 
in  the  windows  of  one  cottage  as  I  pass  along 
the  village  street,  and  so  on  down  a  hill,  towards 
the  bottom  of  which  a  dense  cloud  obscures 
everything.  The  mare  pricks  her  ears  obser- 
vantly as  she  trots  on,  and  we  nearly  miss  a  gap 
where,  by  going  across  the  fields,  a  half-mile  is 
saved.  Very  cautiously  we  travel  here,  for  there 
is  a  drain  in  the  lower  part  of  this  field,  and  a 
roll  in  the  water  would  be  a  bad  beginning ;  but 
the  mare  knows  her  way,  glides  easily  over  the 
cutting,  and  through  another  gap  we  reach  the 
road  leading  to  the  Grange,  where  the  commo- 
dore lives. 

Here  is  the  gate,  and  into  the  stable-yard  we 
clatter  without  seeing  a  sign  of  life.  It  is  the 
hour,  but  where  is  the  man  ?  My  "Halloa  "is 
answered  from  the  stable,  however,  and  the  door 
being  opened,  I  see  that  my  friend  and  his  groom 
are  performing  ceremonies  similar  to  those  which 
I  went  through  half  an  hour  since. 

"  I  want  to  see  how  the  new  one  goes,"  the 
commodore  says,  as  a  handsome  little  bay  is  led 
out.  "  He's  never  seen  the  hounds,  and  if  he 
takes  to  them  kindly  I  hope  he'll  be  well  ac- 
quainted with  them  before  the  season  is  over. 
By  Jove,  how  misty  it  is  !  Along  here  !  "  and 
we  are  soon  upon  the  way  to  Hatcham  Pond. 


AFTEE   THE    CUBS.  23 


A  hare  bounds  from  the  hedge  and  crosses 
the  road  just  in  front  of  ns  ;  dim  forms  are  dis- 
tinctly made  ont  in  one  field  as  we  trot  onwards, 
but  otherwise  the  country  is  still  and  silent  until 
we  turn  off  to  the  right  and  find  ourselves  ap- 
proaching the  pond,  some  twenty  acres  of  water, 
on  the  surface  of  which  a  few  water-lihes  and  a 
good  deal  of  mist  are  discernible,  the  little  boat- 
ing or  summer-house  being  faintly  reflected  on 

the  dark  surface. 

A  couple  of  men  on  foot  and  a  groom  mounted 
on  a  grand  grey  horse  are  the  only  Hving  objects 
besides  ourselves,  but  an  inquiry  assures  us  that 
''they  11  be  here  directly;"   and  the  words  are 
hardly  spoken  when  dowu  the  road  on  the  other 
side  of  the  pond  we  see  the  pink  coats  of  the 
hurtsman   and  whips,  with  the  hounds  around 
.em— a  handsome  show.     Sir  Henry,  in  a  black 
coat,   is   at  the   gate  leading  into  the  field;  a 
couple   of    men    in    tweed   coats    and    gaiters, 
mounted  on  good-looking  hunters ;  a  farmer  on  a 
rough  cob  ;  a  young  fellow  on  a  polo  pony  and  a 
boy  in  a  pair  of  his  very  big  brother's  leggings  on 
a  smaller  and  coarser  variety  of  the  breed  ;  the 
local  vet.  on  a  well-bred  screw  ;  and  a  resplendent 
youth  in  brilhant  pink,  buckskin  breeches,  and 
the   shiniest   of  boots,  riding  a  decent  sort  of 
lightweight  hunter,  make  up  the  mounted  group. 


24  RACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

This  is  not  the  first  day  of  cub-hunting,  and 
on  Monday,  when  the  sport  began,  a  goodly 
muster  of  something  over  tv70  score  turned  out ; 
but  when  once  a  start  has  been  given  to  the 
cubbing,  outside  support  is  faintly  rendered. 
Meantime  three  or  four  dilatory  sportsmen  have 
joined  the  little  assemblage,  and  we  push  on  over 
the  meadow,  each  horse  leaving  his  track  behind 
him  on  the  dew-laden  grass.  The  hounds  deploy 
to  the  right,  through  a  bridle-gate  into  the  wood  ; 
Charlie  the  huntsman,  who  has  dismounted  and 
surrendered  his  horse  to  a  friend,  accompanying 
his  charges.  The  first  whip  pauses  at  one  end  of 
the  cover,  and  we  follow  Sir  Henry  over  the 
field,  through  a  gate,  and  into  a  second  meadow 
by  the  woodside,  where  we  wait  in  patience. 

The  horses  have  pricked  up  their  ears  and 
shown  every  token  of  satisfaction  on  being  intro- 
duced to  their  old  friends  again,  and  even  the 
commodore's  new  steed,  which  has  never  seen  a 
hound  before  or  galloped  behind  one,  perceptibly 
brightens.  Poor  Whyte-Melville  expressed  an 
opinion  that  very  few  horses  like  jumping,  yet 
there  is  certainly  something  or  other  about  the 
hunting-field  that  they  do  like.  One  would 
think  it  must  be  associated  in  their  recollection 
with  tiring  gallops,  heavy  ploughs,  stiff  fences, 
some  whip,  a  little  spur,  not  a  few  hard  knocks, 


AFTER    THE    CUBS.  25 

perhaps  a  few  rather  nasty  falls,  and,  after  a  long 
day's  work,  heaving  sides  and  throbbing  nostrils, 
a  tedious  journey  home  in  the  dark  along  a  hard 
road  ;  yet  from  the  demeanour  of  the  old  hunters 
when  they  see  their  companions,  the  hounds, 
there  can  be  no  sort  of  question  that  they  are 
glad  to  meet  them  again.  My  mare  is  by  no 
means  distinguished  for  good  looks,  or,  on  the 
road,  for  smj  desire  to  exert  herself,  but  she  has 
pulled  herself  together  at  sight  of.  the  hounds, 
and,  hearing  a  burst  of  music  from  the  cover, 
arches  her  neck,  paws  excitedly,  and  becomes  a 
new  creature.  The  good-looking  grey — Sir 
Henry's  second  horse :  he  has  a  couple  out,  in 
order  to  give  all  his  favourites  a  turn — plunges 
eagerly  forward  ;  and  the  very  steady  hunter 
bestridden  by  our  friend  in  pink  shakes  her  head 
wildly,  whereupon  the  beautifully  attired  rider 
works  her  right  into  the  corner  of  the  field,  and 
in  tones  of  very  timid  command  exclaims, 
"  Whoa,  then  ;  be  quiet,  will  you  ?  "  though  the 
excellent  creature  has  never  been  within  a 
measurable  distance  of  inquietude. 

The  music  dies  away,  and  nothing  is  heard 
but  Charlie's  voice,  encouraging  his  hounds. 
Presently  one  of  the  new  entry  emerges  from  the 
wood,  and  trotting  up  to  Sir  Henry's  horse, 
looks  inquiringly  into  the  master's  face.     What 


26  EACECOUESE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

can  all  this  mean  ?  the  pnppy  is  wondering,  and 
he  has  come  to  seek  information  from  one  whom 
he  has  noticed  holds  authority  over  his  brethren. 
Another  hound  joins  the  young  one,  and  both 
are  speedily  sent  to  their  work  again. 

"  Get  in,  Pilgrim  ;  you're  an  old  hound,  and 
ought  to  know  better,"  the  master  says  ;  and  the 
voices  of  their  companions  again  ringing  out 
merrily,  Pilgrim  and  his  inexperienced  friend 
bound  through  the  fence  and  are  lost  to  sight. 

"  There  he  is  !  Look  !  "  the  boy  on  the  pony 
presently  cries,  pointing  to  the  fence,  along 
which  we  see  a  well-grown  cub  stealing,  and 
presently,  the  undergrowth  being  dense,  he 
jumps  down  into  the  ditch  and  runs  some  twenty 
j^ards  before,  catching  sight  of  a  horse,  he  slips 
through  the  fence  again,  and  vanishes.  The 
pack  come  tumbling  out  of  the  wood  at  or  near 
the  place  where  the  cab  came  through,  and  with 
eager  voices  dash  about  the  ditch  and  field  near 
the  side  of  the  covert,  till  a  delighted  and  con- 
vincing cry,  rapidly  swelling,  shows  that  they 
have  hit  it  off  again,  and  a  full  chorus  resounds 
as  the  pursuers  dash  after  their  prey.  Then, 
again,  all  is  silent,  and  we  sit  still  awaiting  events. 

"Oh,  come,  I  must  have  a  jump!"  one  of 
the  group,  a  cheery  young  fellow,  suddenly  ex- 
claims.   "  Come  on ;  let's  go  and  see  how  things 


AFTER    THE    CUBS.  27 

are  the  other  side,"  and  he  turns  his  horse's  head 
to  a  wide  ditch,  with  a  low  fence  on  the  take-off 
side,  which  separates  the  field  where  we  are  from 
the  stuhble  beyond. 

"  Come  on  !  "  he  says  persuasively,  but  his 
friend  declines,  and  no  doubt  wisely.  The  too 
volatile  youth  who  cannot  curb  his  impetuosity 
takes  his  horse  by  the  head  and  sends  him  at  the 
jump  ;  the  growth  on  the  landing  side  deceives 
the  animal,  which  drops  his  hind  legs  in  the 
ditch  and  comes  back,  depositing  his  rider  out  of 
sight,  while  the  good  horse,  with  a  hard  struggle, 
recovers  himself  and  clambers  out.  Out,  too, 
climbs  our  friend,  dripping  and  muddy,  but  not 
a  whit  crest-fallen — indeed,  he  laughs  gaily  as  he 
takes  his  horse  from  a  boy  who  has  got  across  in 
an  easier  place  and  caught  the  truant  steed. 

"  What  a  horrid  mess  I'm  in  !  Never  mind  ! 
Come  up,  horse !  "  he  cries,  and  putting  him  at 
the  ditch  again,  lands  this  time  well  over  back 
again.  This  little  episode  has  caused  our  swell 
friend's  horse  to  whisk  her  tail  a  little,  and  low- 
toned  entreaties  to  her  to  "Be  quiet ;  hold  still, 
can't  you  ?  "  come  from  the  corner  where  the 
pink-clad  rider,  an  anachronism  here  this  morn- 
ing, is  still  in  retreat. 

"Look  out!  There  he  goes!"  suddenly 
exclaims  one  of  the  farmers,  and  he  points  to 


28  RACECOUESE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

the  stubble  behind  us,  across  which  the  cub  is 
galloping  at  a  steady  pace,  with  his  brush  well 
out  behind  him.  Sir  Henry's  keen  eye  has  noted 
it  at  the  same  time,  and  a  few  notes  on  his  horn 
soon  bring  the  pack  tumbling  out  of  the  wood, 
when,  with  quick  sharp  yelps  of  delight,  Actor, 
one  of  the  young  entry,  hits  off  the  scent  and 
races  on  over  the  stubble.  The  second  whip,  on 
a  rawish  young  horse,  rides  at  a  little  ditch,  in 
the  middle  of  the  field  before  us,  at  which  his 
horse  rises  with  a  spring  that  would  have  cleared 
an  agricultural  show  water-jump  ;  and  the  com- 
modore's young  one,  following  on,  gives  a  very 
accurate  imitation  of  the  performance. 

"  That  was  a  jump  and  a  half!  "  I  remark,  as 
we  go  at  a  steady  gallop  up  the  hill  leading  to 
Sibdown  Hall. 

''  Never  mind.  He'll  learn  to  do  better  in 
time,"  the  commodore  replies,  as  he  pats  the 
little  horse's  neck  and  pulls  up  among  the  group, 
somewhat  increased  in  number  by  this  time,  that 
is  waiting  for  the  next  move,  for  the  cub  is  in 
the  wood  before  us. 

The  mist  has  gradually  cleared  awaj^,  and 
now — it  is  just  half-past  six — the  sun  shines 
out  brilliantly,  making  the  dew  drops  sparkle, 
and  casting  in  deep  colours  the  shadows  of  the 
trees  among  which  we  are  gathered.     Whether 


AFTER    THE    CUBS.  29 

it  is  the  effect  of  the  sun  itself  or  the  thought 
of  what  it  means  to  the  backward  harvest,  I 
cannot  tell,  but  the  farmers'  faces  do  certainly 
appear  to  brighten.  Even  our  friend  in  piuk 
seems  happier,  and  he  feels  sufficiently  at  ease  to 
ask  a  question. 

''  Do  you  know  how  many  brace  of  do — 
hounds  are  out  this  morning?"  he  inquires  of 
the  commodore  ;  but  before  his  curiosity  can  be 
satisfied,  some  one  has  ridden  by  and  caused  his 
horse  to  move.  An  earnest  "  Whoa,  can't  you, 
then!"  follows,  and  his  steed  occupies  all  his 
attention. 

Charlie's  voice  and  an  occasional  note  from 
a  hound  come  from  inside  the  cover.  Outside, 
doings  with  the  partridges  and  prospects  of  the 
pheasants — a  gorgeous  cock  has  just  flown  over 
our  heads  and  started  the  conversation — are 
being  discussed,  while  one  of  the  late  comers,  a 
local  humourist,  seeks  for  an  opportunity  of 
retailing  his  newest  anecdote, 

"Did  you  hear  what  Eyves  said  to  Barker? 
It's  a  capital  story !  You  know  Eyves'  barley 
in  that  field  by  the  Priory  Farm  is  very  poor 
this  year — thin,  no  growth  about  it ;  and  Barker 
was  driving  past  in  his  cart  just  as  Eyves  came 
along  the  other  side  of  the  hedge.  '  You  haven't 
got  much  of  a   show  up  here  ?  '   Barker   said. 


30  RACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

'  No,  I  haven't,'  said  Eyves.  '  No ;  an  un- 
common poor  show,  I  should  call  it.'  'And  do 
you  know  why  ?  '  says  Eyves.  '  No  ;  I  can't  say 
that  I  do,'   Barker  answers.     '  Well,   then,  I'll 

just  tell  you,'  Eyves  says,  and " 

A  burst  of  music  from  the  covert,  a  blast  of 
Sir  Henry's  horn,  Charlie's  voice,  and  a  halloa 
from  the  first  whip,  bring  the  story  to  a  very 
abrupt  termination.  The  men  to  the  left  of  us 
are  off  at  a  gallop,  and  we  follow,  to  the  discom- 
fiture of  the  story-teller ;  and  what  it  was  that 
Eyves  said  to  Barker  I  never  expect  to  hear. 
Down  the  hill  we  go,  retracing,  in  fact,  our  steps 
from  the  wood  into  which  the  hounds  were  at 
first  thrown,  and  here  a  somewhat  curious  sight 
presents  itself.  '*  Look  there  !  "  says  one  of  the 
farmers,  pointing  high  up  among  the  branches 
of  a  lofty  oak.  We  look,  but  see  nothing. 
"What  is  it?"  we  ask.  ''Uon't  you  see? 
Look.  Up  there — just  by  where  that  pigeon 
flew.  It's  the  old  vixen,  as  sure  as  you're 
born !  "  And  there  she  is,  surely  enough.  A 
good  sixty  feet  fi-om  the  ground,  peering  down 
upon  us  from  a  thick  bough,  we  note  her  crafty 
face  and  pointed  nose.  Seeing  that  she  is 
observed,  she  climbs  a  little  higher,  makes  her- 
self quite  comfortable,  and  looks  at  her  foes  as 
she  quietly  scratches  her  ear  with  a  hind  pad. 


AFTEE    THE    CUBS.  31 

It  is  likely  to  be  awkward  for  some  of  the  family 
to  all  appearance,  but  she  is  not  personally  con- 
cerned, and  the  young  people  must  take  care  of 
themselves.  I  remember  a  long  correspondence 
on  the  subject  of  ''  foxes  in  trees,"  that  once 
occupied  a  good  many  columns  of  a  well-known 
sporting  journal,  and  smile  at  this  proof  positive 
of  the  fact  that  foxes  do  frequent  trees — if  any- 
body with  any  experience  of  foxes  really  doubted 
it.  But  there  is  a  grand  hubbub  at  the  other  side 
of  the  cover.  The  ground  has  been  a  good  deal 
foiled  by  hunting  backwards  and  forwards ;  the 
master  has  told  his  men  to  "  let  him  get  away  if 
he  will,"  and  away  he  has  surely  gone.  The 
pack  come  streaming  out,  Sir  Henry  takes  hold 
of  his  horse's  head,  and,  with  the  field  after  him, 
away  we  go. 

"  I  do  believe  we're  in  for  a  gallop  !  "  some 
one  cries. 

"Looks  hke  it,  doesn't  it?  Come  up, 
horse  !  "  a  figure  in  a  very  muddy  coat  responds 
-  -it  is  the  too  ardent  jumper  of  ditches — as  he 
tempts  fate  again,  and  is  this  time  aided  by 
good  fortune,  while  less  eager  spirits  gallop  for 
the  gateway. 

Straight  ahead  are  stubble  and  plough, 
and  we  go  at  a  pace  that  promises  to  soon 
make  some  of  the  horses,  not  yet  in  good  con- 


32  EACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

dition,  lose  the  vigour  of  their  strides.  The 
commodore's  young  one,  however,  gallops  well 
within  himself  in  the  wake  of  Sir  Henry's  hig 
grey,  until,  our  leader  coming  to  a  huge  ditch — 
a  regular  gulf — which  we  have  not  sufficient 
ambition  to  attempt,  we  and  the  majority  of  the 
followers  turn  off  to  the  left,  where  a  welcome 
gateway  is  to  be  seen.  The  polo  pony  and  his 
rider  disappear  in  the  depths  of  this  yawning 
chasm — the  Wessex  ditches  are  ditches  indeed ! 
— and  the  wearer  of  the  muddy  coat  we  leave 
fighting  with  his  horse  on  the  wrong  side  of  the 
obstacle.  Sir  Henry  remarked,  when,  on  his 
mounting  the  grey,  I  expressed  admiration  of 
the  animal's  looks,  that  it  required  a  "good 
strong  horse  and  a  bold  jumper"  to  get  safely 
over  this  country ;  and  there  is  no  sort  of  doubt 
about  it. 

Fortunately  the  hounds  make  a  bend  to  the 
left,  the  gallant  cub  being  headed  by  some  men 
harvesting  in  the  field  by  the  side  of  Lady 
Wood,  for  which  haven  we  had  supposed  he  was 
pointing. 

''  I  wonder  where  our  swell  friend  in  pink 
is  ?  "  somebody  says. 

"In  a  corner,  somewhere  or  other,  saying 
*  whoa '  to  his  horse,"  somebody  else  replies,  as 
we  speed  on. 


^.%'  ^    '^ 


AFTER    THE    CUBS.  33 

"  There  he  goes  !  "  the  qiiick-eyecl  boy  on 
the  pony  cries,  for  the  lad,  his  big  leggings 
turned  wrong  side  before,  has  suddenly  cropped 
up  from  somewhere  unknown,  and  there  he  does 
go,  the  poor  cub,  brush  dragging  behind  him. 
Young  hounds  must  be  blooded,  for  we  could 
well  wish  that  so  good  a  fox  might  have  lived  to 
run  another  day.  The  end  is  nigh,  however,  and 
the  forty-three  young  pheasants  that  have  been 
"  lost  "  are  no  doubt  practically  avenged.  Eustio 
sees  him  first,  and  loudly  proclaims  the  fact, 
which  is  vociferously  acknowledged  by  the  rest ; 
but  Warbler,  one  of  the  young  ones,  tears  past 
his  older  companion,  and  after  a  short  race  is 
first  into  his  fox. 

"  He  did  that  well !  "  some  one  observes, 
and  the  master  in  high  delight  replies  that 
Warbler  ought  to  be  a  good  one,  for  he  springs 
from  two  of  the  best  hounds  in  the  county. 

The  final  ceremony  then  proceeds.  It  is  half- 
past  ten  o'clock,  and  we  congratulate  ourselves 
on  a  real  good  morning's  sport  after  the  cubs. 


'^THE  MERRY  HARRIERS." 

Some  readers  will  sympathize  with  me,  and  I 
am  afraid  others  will  not,  when  I  say  that  I 
never  felt  quite  comfortable  out  with  ''  the  merry 
harriers."  The  odds  are  all  too  heavy  against 
the  hare.  To  run  Master  Jack  or  Miss  Puss  to 
death  may  be — no  doubt  is — more  merciful  than 
employing  those  hideous  traps  which  keep  their 
victims  in  terror  and  torture  for  weary  hours ; 
but  it  seems  to  me  that  the  one  way  to  kill  a 
hare  is  to  shoot  him,  in  the  head  if  possible, 
when  he  is  bowling  along  at  fourteen  miles  an 
hour.  Those  who  are  called  ''lovers  of  the 
leash  "  will  not  agree  with  this,  and  I  know  that 
a  good  hare  can  often  hold  his  own,  by  speed 
and  stratagem,  against  his  long-tailed  pursuers  ; 
but  I  repeat  a  hare  never  seems  to  me  so  well 
killed  as  when  you  hit  him  clean  in  the  head  as 
he  is  careering  along  at  such  speed  that,  his 
limbs  losing  power,  he  turns  over  and  over  like 
a  sort  of  Catherine  wheel,  and  falls  motionless 
and  dead  just  at  the  moment  when  the  well- 
trained  retriever  has  reached  the  spot  to   pick 


''the  meeey  harriers."  35 

him  up.  To  slay  the  fox  is  legitimate.  He 
kills  other  creatures,  and  must  stand  his  chance 
of  being  killed  himself;  and  you  know  that  he 
will  in  all  probability  make  a  good  fight  for  his 
life.  The  timid  hare  is  another  sort  of  animal 
altogether,  and  preparations  for  her  capture  by 
a  pack  of  harriers  always  appear  to  me  excessive. 
The  end  does  not  justify  the  means ;  and  the 
piteous  cry  of  a  hare  when  her  enemies  are  upon 
her  is  not  a  thing  to  be  dwelt  upon. 

Men  keep  harriers  for  different  reasons — to 
promote  the  interests  of  sport  generally,  to 
promote  the  amusements  of  their  neighbours, 
to  promote  themselves ;  and  it  was  the  latter 
reason  which  induced  my  acquaintance,  Cobb — 
he  might  not  like  me  to  take  the  liberty  of 
calling  myself  his  friend — to  start  a  pack. 

Cobb  wanted  to  get  into  the  House  of 
Commons.  He  was  rich ;  he  would  have  been 
agreeable  if  he  had  only  known  the  way.  Since 
he  had  left  London  and  settled  in  Downshire 
he  had  done  everything  he  could  to  please 
everybody,  whereby,  it  is  almost  needless  to 
say,  he  had  mortally  and  eternally  offended 
several  people.  He  had  subscribed  to  every- 
thing, and  had  got  up  new  subscriptions  himself 
for  the  sake  of  subscribing.  He  had  even  suug 
at   the   local    penny   readings — perhaps   it   was 


S6  EACECOUBSE    AND    COVEKT    SIDE. 

that  which  put  the  finishing  stroke  to  his  de- 
struction ;  for  when  the  election  came  on  he  was 
beaten  in  a  canter  by  a  hated  Tory  rival,  who 
seemed  to  be  friends  with  the  voters  at  once, 
without  going  through  what  Cobb  found  to  be 
the  tedious  and  often  disappointing  business  of 
making  fi-iends. 

But  Cobb  knew  that  another  turn  would 
come,  and  instead  of  despairing,  he  set  himself 
to  consider  what  he  could  do  to  please  his 
neighbours. 

"  Why  don't  you  get  some  harriers  ?  That's 
the  way  to  come  across  people,  and  you  find  lots 
of  chances  of  being  civil,  and  pleasing  the  fellows 
who  hunt  with  you.  I  think  a  pack's  a  capital 
idea,"  his  friend  Wetherby  said  to  him  one 
evening,  a  few  months  after  the  election,  as  they 
sat  smoking  after  dinner. 

'*  I  hate  the  beastly,  long-legged  brutes  ;  and 
it  must  be  frightfully  expensive.  I'm  told  they 
feed  them  on  legs  of  mutton,"  Cobb  answered. 
"  A  pack  would  cost  a  fortune,  surely  ?  " 

"The  mutton  is  a  delusion,  I  assure  you; 
and  as  for  long  legs,  a  well-shaped  harrier 
certainly  does  not  run  to  excess  in  that  direc- 
tion," Wetherby  replied. 

Still  Cobb  did  not  respond  to  the  notion. 

"  They're  nasty  snappish  beasts,  too.     I  just 


"the  merry  harriers."  37 

pulled  the  ears  of  that  great  yellow  brute  Dyke 
is  so  fond  of,  and  the  brute  deuced  nearly  had 
my  finger  off,"  Cobb  objected ;  and  then  his 
friend  began  to  see  the  wrong  tack  upon  which 
the  prospective  master  of  harriers  was  sailing. 

**  But  Dyke  has  not  got  any  harriers.  That 
yellow  dog  of  his  that  you're  speaking  of  is  a 
greyhound." 

"  Well,  it  catches  hares,  that's  all  I  know, 
because  he's  sent  them  to  me — generally  when 
he  has  wanted  to  borrow  a  pony,"  Cobb  answered, 
not  quite  convinced ;  and  then  his  friend  pro- 
ceeded to  explain  to  him  the  difference  between 
the  greyhound  and  the  harrier,  and  between  the 
methods  by  which  they  fulfil  their  respective 
destinies.  Furthermore,  Wetherby,  who  had 
his  own  reasons  for  being  useful  to  Cobb,  ex- 
plained that  a  very  good  pack  were  to  be  bought 
just  then,  that  they  could  be  had  for  a  couple 
of  hundred  pounds,  that  five  hundred  would 
start  the  affair  easily,  and  the  only  thing  the 
master  would  have  to  do  was  to  sign  cheques, 
a  feat  which  Cobb  could  always  perform  suc- 
cessfully. 

By  degrees  Cobb  quite  began  to  like  the 
idea,  the  more  so  when  he  was  assured  that  he 
need  not  ride  a  yard  further  than  he  cared  about 
riding,  and  that  he  would  not  be  called  upon 


38  RACECOUESE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

to  jump  anything,  for  the  excellent  reason  that 
there  was  nothing  to  jump,  except  occasional 
sheep  hurdles,  which  he  could  take  or  leave  as 
he  liked ;  and  Cobb,  who  had  been  to  the  Horse 
Show  at  the  Agricultural  Hall,  at  once  decided 
that  he  should  always  adopt  the  latter  alter- 
native, and  leave  them  without  hesitation. 

Cobb  was  not  at  all  sure  that  he  should  not 
look  remarkably  well  in  boots  and  breeches,  and 
at  the  hunt  breakfasts  he  felt  certain  that  he 
should  shine.     At  the  Vestry  Hall  in  the  even- 
ing oratory  is  dry  work ;  but  when  champagne 
glasses  hold  a  fair  quantity,  and  the  servants 
are    instructed    to    let    no   glass    be   empty,   a 
man  whose  political  principles,  in  opposition  to 
those  of  the  speaker,  are  not  very  firml}^  fixed  is 
apt   to   have   them  washed   away,   temporarily, 
perhaps,  but   for   a   period   sufficiently  long   to 
enable  him  to  enunciate  some  ''Hear,  hears  !  " 
with   a   conviction   which   to   sanguine   orators 
sounds  permanent.    Then  the  hunt  could  break- 
fast at  other  men's  houses,  and  in  the  cases  of 
those  who  were   not   of  liberal   disposition    he 
could  arrange  so  that  they  should  not  lose  any- 
thing  by  their  hospitality.     And   a   master   of 
hounds  was  somebody,  even  if  the  hounds  were 
not   foxhounds.     Cobb  went  to   bed  impressed 
with  the   idea   that  Wetherby  was  one  of  the 


"the  mebry  hareieks."  39 

cleverest  fellows  going,  and  dreamed  confusedly 
of  hares,  greyhounds,  harriers,  and  the  Speaker 
all  mixed  up  together. 

All  was  speedily  arranged.  The  old  kennels 
were  good  enough  for  the  present ;  a  whip  who 
could  hunt  the  hounds  came  with  the  pack  and 
brought  a  junior  with  him ;  Wetherby  under- 
took to  provide  horse-flesh ;  and  Cobb  strolled 
into  his  tailor's  shop  and  tried  to  look  as  if  he 
were  making  an  every-day  request  when  he 
ordered  a  couple  of  pairs  of  breeches.  As  to  the 
material  of  which  they  should  be  composed  he 
was  not  clear,  but  hit  on  a  happy  compromise  by 
ordering  one  of  cord,  one  of  tweed,  and  a  pair  of 
buckskins  ;  and  then  he  wanted  a  coat. 

"A  pink,  sir?  "  asked  the  tailor,  wondering 
what  it  all  meant. 

*'  Well — a  sort  of  red — like  that,  you  know," 
he  answered  carelessly,  pointing  to  a  highly 
coloured  picture,  which  showed  a  gentleman  in 
gorgeous  array,  mounted  on  a  horse  with  a 
flowing  tail,  a  very  arched  neck,  and  no  shoulders. 

The  coat  came  home,  but  somehow  or  other 
Wetherby  heard  about  it ;  and  though  at  the 
opening  breakfast  the  menu  was  headed  by  a 
picture  of  a  man  in  pink  jumping  a  five-barred 
gate,  the  master  was  dressed  in  orthodox  green. 

The  menu  began  with  oysters,  which  are  per- 


40  RACECOUESE    AND   COVEET    SIDE. 

missible  enough  at  half-past  ten  in  the  morning, 
and  went  on  to  turtle  soup,  which  is  not,  and  to 
numerous  other  delicacies ;  while  salvoes  of 
champagne  corks  sounded  oddly  when  one  re- 
flected on  all  the  eloquence  the  host  had  lavished 
on  the  support  of  Local  Option.  Then  Wetherby 
rose  to  propose  the  master's  health  ;  and  he  said 
that  any  eulogy  on  the  sportsmanlike  spirit 
which  Mr.  Cobb,  the  worthy  master  (applause), 
had  displayed  would  be  out  of  place  on  that 
occasion,  and  at  that  table.  Every  true  English- 
man was  a  sportsman  at  heart,  and  he  need 
scarcely  emphasize  the  fact  that  their  host  and 
the  Master  of  the  South  Downshire  Harriers 
was  a  true  Englishman.  (Applause.)  Their 
host  was  a  representative  man  ;  and  he  hoped 
that  the  day  would  come  ere  long  when  the 
claim  to  be  representative  might  be  more  truly 
his  ;  but  on  that  he  would  not  dwell.  (Slight 
applause.)  Certain  he  was  that  their  friend, 
James  Cobb,  who  had  undertaken  to  hunt  the 
country,  was  the  right  man  in  the  right  place, 
and  he  would  ask  them  to  unite  with  him  in 
drinking  the  health  of  a  sportsman  and  a  gentle- 
man, who  in  honouring  himself  honoured  them. 
(Loud  applause.) 

What  Wetherby  meant  by  the  last  phrase  of 
his  speech  he  could  not  clearly  explain  to  me  as 


''  THE    MERRY    HARRIERS."  41 

we  marclied  out  of  the  room,  down  the  stairs,  and 
went  in  search  of  our  horses,  most  of  which  were 
being  led  about,  for  the  early  comers  had  occu- 
pied all  the  stalls.  Wetherby  said  it  was  the  sort 
of  thing  one  had  to  say  at  such  a  time,  and  asked 
whether  it  did  not  sound  all  right ;  and  I 
admitted  that  it  was  worthy  of  the  occasion. 
Mr.  Cobb,  however,  responded  to  the  effect  that 
he  would  not  detain  them  with  a  long  speech. 
(Cordial  applause.)  He  would  only  say  that  when 
he  heard  a  pack  of  harriers  would  be  welcome  to 
his  friends  he  had  gone  and  got  some,  and  he 
hoped  he  should  use  the  dogs  to  their  satis- 
faction. 

The  short  address  was  well  received ;  young 
gentlemen  who  had  breakfasted  too  much  already 
topped  up  with  a  glass  of  sherry ;  soon  we 
were  all  in  the  saddle  inspecting  the  hounds, 
which  were  brought  up  as  we  arrived,  and  poor 
Cobb  grew  sadly  confused  as  his  friends  favour- 
ably criticised  the  make  and  shape  of  various 
animals,  discussing  points  in  them  which  Cobb 
never  knew  they  possessed.  His  final  discom- 
fiture was  brought  about  when  a  visitor  from  the 
garrison  town,  by  way  of  saying  something  civil, 
asked  how  that  lemon  and  white  one  was  bred  ? 
Thereupon,  affecting  not  to  hear,  Cobb  trotted 
off  on  his  steady-going  hack,  which  had  already 


42  EACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

been  for  a  turn  this  morning,  uniformly  placid  as 
his  disposition  was. 

Cobb  had  a  practical  head,  and  did  not  pro- 
pose to  break  the  neck  by  which  it  was  attached 
to  his  body.  When,  therefore,  the  harrier  busi- 
ness was  first  talked  of  he  sent  for  his  groom,  and 
after  discussing  the  question  of  horses,  ended  by 
asking  him  what  wages  he  was  receiving. 

*'  Sixty  pounds,  sir,"  rephed  the  man. 

''  Well,  then,  I'll  give  you  eighty ;  but  mind 
— if  I  come  off,  you  go  !  "  Cobb  replied. 

Therefore,  lest  the  sight  of  a  hound  should 
awake  some  dormant  feehug  of  gaiety  in  the  old 
hack,  he  was  sent  for  a  spin  over  the  downs,  and 
throughout  the  day  the  master  was  attended  by 
his  man  or  by  his  shadow. 

Another  thing,  too,  was  perplexing  Cobb  at 
the  time,  but  Wetherby  was  happily  at  hand. 

"  I  say — I  say — I  know  there's  no — no  brush 
to  give  away  if  we  catch  one — there's  nothing  of 
that  sort,  is  there  ?  Have  I  got  to  do  anything 
in  particular,  as  master  ?  "  Cobb  asked  frankly, 
but  with  some  hesitation  and  in  a  low  tone. 
He  had  received  from  his  followers  the  deference 
due  to  the  master,  and  all  having  gone  so  well  up 
to  now,  he  did  not  want  to  begin  and  make  a 
mess  of  it.  Wetherby  explained  what  happens 
when  a  hare  is  killed  ;  and  very  soon  the  downs 


"the  meeey  haeeiees."  43 

were  reached  and  the  pack  thrown  into  a  turnip 
field. 

Hares  seemed  the  reverse  of  plentiful;  plongli, 
stubble,  turnips,  and  fallow  were  tried  in  vain  ; 
but  Cobb  was  happy. 

*'  Splendid  sport,  isn't  it  ?  Magnificent  day 
we're  having,  aren't  we  ?  T  knew  what  hounds 
they  were,  and  I  wasn't  wrong,  though  I've 
never  been  out  with  them — not  with  this  lot — 
before,"  Cobb  rode  about  saying  to  people  when 
they  had  been  oat  some  two  hours  without  a 
sign  of  a  hare.  He  was  enjoying  himself 
thoroughly,  and  regarded  the  mere  absence  of 
anything  to  hunt  as  an  unimportant  detail  not 
worthy  of  mention ;  and  on  second  thoughts 
where  hares  are  concerned  I  am  after  all  not  so 
sure  that  Cobb  was  wrong. 

At  length  we  have  approached  Barnley  Mead, 
and  Farmer  Eingwood  knows  that  there's  a  hare 
somewhere  about  his  bit  of  furze  some  half-mile 
off;  so  for  that  we  make,  over  there  beyond  that 
line  of  hurdles.  And  the  hurdles  are  not  generally 
popular.  Young  men  who  at  breakfast  time  were 
shrugging  their  shoulders  and  declaring  that 
harriers  were  so  dreadfully  slow  that  there  was  no 
fun,  that  it  was  not  hunting,  and  that  they  had 
only  shown  up  to  "  give  old  Cobb  a  turn,  because 
he  wasn't  half  a  bad  fellow,"  waited  one  after 


44  EACECOUESE    AND    COVERT  .SIDE. 

another  to  see  wlio  was  going  first ;  while  one 
youth,  taking  in  the  position  of  affairs,  remarked 
with  the  most  guileless  innocence,  "  I  fancy  this 
is  the  shortest  way?"  and  straightway  pulled 
aside  out  of  the  line  altogether. 

Before  we  reach  Ringwood's  furze,  however, 
up  jumps  an  old  hare  and  off  he  goes  up  the 
hill,  past  a  boy  scaring  crows,  who  frightens  him 
farther  up  the  incline,  and  away  we  scurry.  Cobb 
has  by  this  time  settled  down  in  the  saddle,  and 
as  he  goes  at  a  gentle  gallop  he  waves  his  arms 
and  legs  about  like  a  windmill  in  a  breeze,  till  a 
bit  of  a  jolt  in  a  furrow  suddenly  checks  his 
ardour,  straightens  his  smiling  features  in  a 
moment,  and  makes  him  lay  hard  hold  of  his 
horse's  mouth. 

The  pack  struggle  over  and  through  a  hedge 
into  a  cottage  garden,  and  there  is  a  stalwart, 
middle-aged  womaii  standing  in  a  doorway  and 
laying  about  her  with  a  broom,  while  a  little  boy 
holds  on  to  her  gown  and  yells  lustily. 

''  Nasty,  dirty  dogs  rushing  like  wild  beasts 
over  a  body's  garden,  and  frightening  the  children 
out  of  their  seven  senses!"  she  cried,  as  she 
swept  at  one  hound  and  gave  another  a  side  blow 
with  her  broom.  "You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
yourself,  Mr.  Cobb,  so  you  ought,  and  you  a 
family  man,  too  !  " 


"the  merey  haeeiees."  45 

I  do  not  suppose  tliat  at  the  moment  Cobb 
thought  of  all  the  high-sounding  things  that  had 
been  said  about  him  at  breakfast  a  few  hours 
before,  or  that  he  contrasted  the  different  ways 
people  had  of  looking  at  things.  In  the  morning 
he  had  been  eulogized  as  a  gentleman  and  a 
sportsman  ;  the  reporters  of  the  local  papers  had 
been  hard  at  it  to  get  in  all  the  adjectives,  and  a 
leading  article  with  more  or  less  appropriate 
references  to  the  Quorn,  the  Pytchley,  Melton 
Mowbray,  and  the  Duke  of  Wellington  in  the 
Peninsular  was  inevitable  ;  yet  early  in  the  after- 
noon he  was  being  soundly  abused  before  the 
whole  field,  simply,  if  you  came  to  look  at  it, 
because  a  blundering  hare  wouldn't  run  straight. 
And  the  angry  lady's  husband  had  a  vote  which 
counted  as  much  as  anybody  else's. 

The  pack  meantime  had  divided,  and  having 
had  enough  of  it  I  went  home,  leaving  Cobb  to 
make  his  peace  as  best  he  could. 

I  believe  that  since  these  occurrences  he  has 
sold  his  harriers,  and  declares  that  if  he  can't 
get  into  the  House  on  his  own  legs,  he  won't  try 
to  ride  there  on  horseback. 


"IT  IS  OUR  OPENING  DAY." 

Feost  !  There  is  no  doubt  about  it.  In  this 
variable  cKmate  (and  surely  it  is  growing  more 
variable  than  it  used  to  be  ?)  one  does  not  know 
if — in  spite  of  the  almanack  which  declares  that 
it  is  October,  a  month  that  should  have  some 
characteristic  weather  of  its  own — there  is  to  be 
a  week  of  Indian  summer  or  of  what,  about 
Christmas  time,  is  regarded  as  "  seasonable 
weather."  It  is  late  in  October,  truly  enough, 
as  late  as  can  be — the  31st,  in  fact ;  but  still  a 
man  does  not  expect  to  see  his  wiudow-panes 
impenetrable  to  sight,  and  to  note,  when  at  last 
the  blinds  are  drawn  up,  and  the  glass  begins  to 
thaw  a  little,  a  real,  white,  wintry  frost,  which 
awakens  a  dire  suspicion  that  on  this,  "  our 
opening  day,"  there  may  be  no  possibility  of 
riding.  Such  hard  luck  cannot  be  awaiting  us 
on  this  the  morning  of  the  first  meet  which  has 
been  so  eagerly  anticipated  ? 

We  have  been  after  the  cubs,  but  this  is  to 
real  hunting  what  the  rehearsal  is  to  the  per- 


''  IT    IS    OUR    OPENING    DAY."  47 

formance  of  the  drama.  There  have  been  found 
even  semi-enthusiasts  ready  to  vote  cub-hunting 
dull ;  and  for  the  average  sportsman  it  is  easy 
to  understand  why  such  an  opinion  should  be 
held. 

Hunting  is,  in  fact,  an  elastic  term,  and  with 
many  is  taken  to  include  the  pleasures  of  a 
cheery  breakfast ;  the  meeting  with  friends ;  a 
good  deal  of  that  "  coffee  housing  "  which  is  the 
abomination  of  men  intent  upon  the  business  of 
the  day ;  the  provocation  of  an  appetite  for 
dinner;  a  subject  of  conversation,  and  other 
advantages,  besides  the  mere  chase  of  the  fox. 
For  those  again  who  regard  fox-hunting  simply 
as  for  an  excuse  for  a  gallop  across  the  country, 
the  pursuit  of  the  cubs  has  few  charms,  notwith- 
standing that  at  times  a  straight-going  cub  gives 
a  good  hunting  nin.  A  man  who  goes  after  cubs 
knows  that  he  is  not  likely  to  meet  many  of  the 
friends  who  make  the  field  lively  in  the  regular 
season,  and  the  rider  who  is  bent  on  steeple- 
chasing  is  aware  that  there  are  reasons  why  his 
taste  cannot  be  gratified.  The  ground  is  usually 
hard.  The  fences  which,  in  a  few  weeks'  time, 
can  be  crashed  and  brushed  through  so  easily  by 
a  resolute  man  mounted  on  a  good  horse,  are 
now  blind,  dense,  and  often  impenetrable ;  for 
the  leaves  have  not  all  fallen  and  the  sticks  are 


48  KACECOUESE   AND   COVEET    SIDE. 

not  dry.  The  horseman  is  forced  to  place  more 
trust  in  chance  than  a  wise  man  cares  to  do ; 
and  besides  this  the  horses  cannot  well  be 
already  in  condition  for  going.  Most  of  the 
work  is  done  in  covert,  where  the  ability  of  a 
good  hunter  wonld  be  almost  lost,  and  sncli 
opportunities  as  cub-hunting  affords  towards 
getting  horses  fit  for  the  work  before  them  are 
generally  turned  over  to  the  groom. 

The  real  enthusiast,  however,  recognizes  the 
value  and  feels  the  delight  of  these  mornings 
with  the  cubs  and  the  young  entry.  The 
necessity  for  rising  so  as  to  be  out  while  the  dew 
is  on  the  grass,  and  before  the  autumn  sun  has 
dried  up  the  scent,  does  not  in  the  least  daunt 
him. 

Followers  of  a  well-known  Essex  pack 
declare  that  hounds  would  have  met  at  midnight 
if  the  moon  had  served  ;  for  the  master  and  the 
faithful  few  were  always  to  be  heard,  if  not  seen, 
at  the  covert  side,  before  daybreak,  in  order  that 
no  chance  of  sport  might  be  lost.  To  such  as 
these  the  trotting  up  and  down  rides  in  dense 
woodlands  or  over  the  brambles  and  bushes  of 
gorses  and  spinnies  are  not  at  all  dull  work. 
They  do  not  pine  for  a  gallop  across  the  open, 
and  are  more  than  content  to  watch  the  dawn- 
ing symptoms  of  intelligence  in  the  young  entry 


*' IT    IS    OUR    OPENING    DAY."  49 

as  Ravager  and  Woodman  begin  to  display 
unmistakable  proofs  of  that  keenness  and 
courage  which  is  inherent  in  the  blood  of  their 
race. 

But  now  the  rehearsal  is  all  over.  Horses, 
if  they  have  been  wisely  treated,  are  gradually 
getting  into  form.  Not  only  have  the  young 
entry  been  taught  by  the  huntsman  and  by  their 
elder  brethren  what  is  required  of  them,  but  the 
cubs  have  been  so  rattled  and  the  woodlands  so 
routed,  that  the  foxes  as  well  as  the  hounds 
have  an  inkling  of  the  work  before  them  ;  the 
quarry  has  learnt  that  security  is  not  to  be 
found  in  the  recess  of  the  thick  undergrowth, 
and  that  his  enemies  penetrate  so  thickly  into 
the  heart  of  the  w^hole  wood  that,  on  the  whole, 
flight  across  the  open  is  the  best  thing  for 
safety.  All  is  in  order,  except  the  weather, 
upon  which  all  depends. 

There,  at  any  rate,  are  the  boots  and  breeches, 
and,  hoping  for  the  best,  I  make  a  hunting 
toilet,  and  go  downstairs  to  find  my  kindly  host 
inspecting  the  state  of  grass  and  gravel  before 
the  house.  It  is  likely  to  be  hard  on  the  north 
side  of  the  hills — we  are  in  Wiltshire,  if  the 
reader  pleases,  eager  to  see  what  the  descendants 
of  those  stout  foxes  that  gave  Assheton  Smith 
so  many  glorious   gallops  will  do   for  us — it  is 

4 


50  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

agreed,  and  many  anxious  glances  are  cast  at 
the  sky,  the  barometer,  the  gravel,  and  other 
indications. 

But,  after  all,  there  is  a  sim,  and  he  has  not 
had  time  to  assert  himself  by  half-past  eight. 
When  he  rises  in  his  splendour,  the  grass  softens 
and  the  gravel-walks  give  way,  and  by  the  time 
that  the  horses  are  announced,  it  is,  at  least  for 
a  show  meet,  as  perfect  a  day  as  could  have  been 
made  to  order.  Even  one  night  of  frost  seems 
to  have  had  its  effect  upon  the  trees,  never  more 
beautiful  in  their  autumn  fohage  than  at  this 
time,  and  in  this  delightful  country,  though,  I 
think,  as  we  ride  to  breakfast,  a  little  more 
sombre  in  colour  than  they  were  yesterday  after- 
noon. To  breakfast,  for  of  course  breakfast  is 
the  feature  of  our  opening  day,  it  being  well 
understood  that  the  hunting  world  in  general  is 
to  breakfast  under  strange  but  hospitable  roofs 
before  the  campaign  against  the  foxes  is  begun  ; 
and  here  to  the  left,  as  we  trot  along  the  road, 
is  the  most  characteristic  of  English  scenes.  A 
huge  but  compact  and  picturesque  red-brick 
house,  with  many  gables  and  windows  and  a 
capacious  porch.  A  broad  park  runs  in  front  of 
it,  separated  from  the  residence  by  a  well  trimmed 
lawn  and  garden,  with  a  broad  gravel  walk ;  and 
in  the  park   are   the   hounds,  the  great-great- 


'*  IT    IS    OUR    OPENING    DAY."  51 

grandchildren  of  Eifleman,  Eegiuald,  Squire 
Osbaldiston's  Ferryman,  Ranter,  and  his  son 
Royalist,  with — not  to  be  diffuse,  for  to  make 
a  catalogue  of  hounds  interesting  even  to 
enthusiasts  it  is  indispensable  that  the  hounds 
themselves  should  be  visible — the  offspring  of 
the  Belvoir  Bertram  and  Nelson  from  the  same 
stock.  The  hunt  servants  are  in  attendance, 
and  a  number  of  the  sturdy  farmers  who  form 
the  backbone  of  fox-hunting,  are  grouped  about. 
A  thin  stream  is  setting  in  towards  the 
house,  and  this,  having  dismounted,  we  join. 
Happily  for  one  who  does  not  possess  the  pen  of 
a  Francatelli,  a  sketch  in  the  hunting  field  does 
not  necessarily  include  the  details  of  the  dining- 
room,  and  the  list  of  birds,  beasts,  and  fishes 
cunningly  dressed  need  not  be  given.  Business 
is  meant  this  morning,  and  as  a  consequence 
seats  have  been  judiciously  removed,  so  that  the 
various  old  and  young  gentlemen  who  are  prone 
to  finish  their  breakfasts  and  then  begin  an 
exhaustive  summary  of  the  last  few  years'  sport, 
are  not  tempted  to  remain  and  take  those  final 
glasses  of  sherry,  which  are  not  conducive  to 
steady  riding.  Our  mission  to-day  is  to  see  the 
hounds  eat  fox,  and  not  to  eat  ourselves.  Still, 
when  hunting  men  get  together,  they  will  talk. 
One  man  has  been  to  Rome,  and  talks  of  gallops 


52  EACECOUESE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

over  the  Campagna ;  another  has  hunted  at 
Pan ;  and  some  one  tells  of  a  remarkable 
subscription  pack  that  was  formed  and  hunted, 
after  a  fashion,  in  Belgium  some  years  ago.  The 
subscribers  of  five  hundred  francs  enjoyed  the 
privilege  of  wearing  red  coats,  carrying  horns 
and  blowing  them.  Subscribers  of  three  hundred 
francs  might  wear  red  facings  to  green  coats, 
and  might  -carry  horns,  but  were  never  to  sound 
them  ;  while  inferior  grades  of  the  hunt,  who 
paid  less  than  three  hundred,  were  forbidden  to 
wear  either  red  or  green,  and  were  on  no  account 
permitted  to  take  with  them  instruments  of 
music.  It  was,  moreover,  enacted  that  no  con- 
tributor of  a  small  sum  was  to  ride  before  a 
contributor  of  a  large  sum  ;  and  if  the  rich 
sportsman  who  gave  five  hundred  chose  to  go 
slowly,  the  hunt  was  seriously  delayed. 

The  riding  men  talk  chiefly  of  their  horses, 
and  the  hunting  men  of  the  hounds ;  for  the 
same  pleasure  which  the  sportsman  gains  from 
seeing  his  dog  quartering  the  field,  pointing  with 
infinite  patience  and  steadiness,  and  obeying  with 
a  quickness  which  is  half  anticipation,  is  yielded 
to  the  huntsman  who  carefully  observes  the 
intelligence  of  the  hound  as  he  seeks  to  outwit 
his  natural  enemy.  To  those  who  have  not 
watched  attentively  it  seems  absurd  to  speak  of 


''it  is  our  opening  day."  53 

a  liound  reflecting,  drawing  deductions,  abandon- 
ing one  idea  and  adopting  another,  and  finally- 
giving  up  to  seek  the  advice  of  his  friend  the 
huntsman ;  but  hounds  do  all  this. 

The  room,  however,  begins  to  empty,  and  a 
move  is  made  towards  the  busy  scene  on  the 
grass,  where  mounted  and  dismounted  men 
patrol  to  and  fro,  and  a  number  of  carriages  add 
liveliness  to  the  picture.  The  master  is  in  the 
saddle,  and  it  is  time  to  find  our  horses  and 
follow  the  procession,  especially  as  the  legend  of 
a  fox  in  the  neighbouring  field  has  been  discussed 
in  the  hall.  The  horses  are  fresh  as  we  pass 
through  the  park,  cross  the  road,  and  get  on  to 
the  downs  beyond.  The  steeplechaser,  ridden  by 
a  famous  jockey,  begins  to  kick,  which  much 
amuses  his  rider,  and  would  amuse  me  if  I  had 
time  to  look  on,  but  a  horse  galloping  by  sets 
my  animal  off,  and  I  am  over  a  stubble  field  and 
about  half  a  mile  of  down  uncomfortably  dotted 
with  rabbit  holes  before  I  can  get  an  effectual 
pull. 

It  was  about  here  that  the  fox  is  reported  to 
have  been  seen,  but  though  for  one  moment  our 
hopes  are  raised,  nothing  comes  of  it.  He  is  not 
at  home,  and  does  not  appear  to  have  been  here 
lately,  so  the  hounds  are  trotted  off  to  a  wood 
on  the  brow  of  a  neighbouring  down.     As  we  file 


64  EACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

into  a  ride  the  aspect  of  things  is  picturesque  but 
not  promising. 

'*  Too  many  leaves  on  the  ground  for  scent," 
an  oil  sportsman  shrewdly  opiues.  And  they 
are  beech  leaves,  too,  which  for  some  reason  or 
other  seem  to  favour  the  foxes  more  than  the 
hounds. 

But  stop!  That's  like  business,  we  rejoice 
to  think,  as  a  challenge  is  generally  acknowledged 
by  the  pack,  and  there  is  the  fox,  surely  enough, 
a  cub,  but  a  well-grown  one,  stealing  along 
through  the  underwood.  Here,  too,  comes  a 
hound,  but  just  at  the  moment  a  halloa  is  heard 
from  the  other  end  of  the  woods,  and  we  pound 
away  down  the  drive.  This,  I  am  told,  is 
Assheton  Copse,  so  called  because  it  was  a 
favourite  spot  with  Assheton  Smith  (whose 
mausoleum  is  visible  through  the  trees  in  the 
valley  below  us),  and  it  ought  to  hold  foxes.  As 
a  matter  of  fact  it  holds  too  many,  for  there  is 
apparently  a  third  about  now,  and  we  wait 
irresolutely  near  where  some  hurdles  have  been 
put  up  in  the  copse.  Some  of  the  pedestrians 
have  climbed  up  here,  several  women  among 
them,  and  all  of  a  sudden  another  halloa  resounds 
through  the  trees,  and  the  fox  appears,  heading 
for  these  hurdles,  over  which  he  lightly  slips,  one 
excited  female,  with  a  baby  in  her  arms  more- 


"it  is  our  opening  day."  55 

over,  making  a  wild  grab  at  his  brush  as  he  takes 
his  fence  !  Perhaps  it  is  as  well  for  the  integrity 
of  her  fingers  that  she  missed  him. 

Here  are  the  hounds,  and  this  looks  like  their 
fox,  for  he  is  a  bit  done,  and  has  evidently 
been  bustled  about ;  but  it  is — so  far  as  can  be 
made  out,  unless  ours  has  doubled  back  curiously 
— after  another  that  we  presently  get  away, 
when  at  last  a  shrill  "  Tally-ho  !  "  revives  our 
hopes  of  some  fun.  Away  we  tear,  down  the 
hillside.  It  is  a  good  galloping  country,  with 
scarcely  a  fence  to  be  seen,  and  the  man  who 
can  go  quickest  has  the  best  of  it.  Down  one 
hillside  we  go,  along  the  bottom,  and  up  another 
hill  by  a  turn  that  takes  us  back  again  to 
Assheton  Copse ;  and  there  not  a  hound  will 
speak  to  him. 

Evidently  a  fresh  draw  is  the  best  thing  to 
be  tried,  and  hopes  are  entertained  of  something 
being  found  in  a  little  covert  at  the  bottom  of  a 
particularly  steep  hill,  down  which  we  steer  with 
a  good  deal  of  caution,  for  it  is  uncommonly 
■upright  in  places.  It  is  just  the  sort  of  place  for 
a  fox,  and  welcome  notes  soon  proclaim  that 
somebody  is  at  home.  They  are  on  the  line 
this  time  surely  enough,  and  away  they  go  over 
the  down  at  a  grand  pace.  Horses  and  men 
that  have  been  alike  longing  for  a  gallop  can 


66  EACECOUBSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

now  be  gratified,  for — especially  the  few  who 
did  not  get  well  away  through  being  in  a  bad 
place,  and  so  have  something  to  make  up — here 
we  go  just  as  hard  as  horses  can  lay  their  legs  to 
the  ground.  Those  who  are  not  gluttons  for 
fencing,  and  who  are  willing  to  chance  an 
occasional  rabbit  hole,  are  in  their  glory,  and  it 
is  probable  tha,t  some  of  the  horses,  if  not  their 
riders,  find  a  check  welcome  when  hounds  throw 
up  in  a  hedgerow  bounding  a  slip  of  covert.  As 
we  crossed  this  stubble  hares  and  rabbits  scuttled 
away  in  all  dhections,  for  they  were  as  plentiful 
as  sparrows  in  a  barn-yard.  Some  of  the  hares 
(Beacon  Hill  and  other  coursing  grounds  are 
quite  close)  have  thought  it  judicious  to  "  lay 
low  "  as  Brer  Eabbit  puts  it,  and  get  up  suddenly 
almost  under  the  feet  of  one's  horse,  and  I  saw 
four  rabbits  having  a  race  for  safety — a  hand- 
kerchief would  have  covered  the  "  field." 

Into  a  convenient  hole  the  fox  has  certainly 
slipped,  and  there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  go  and 
find  another,  or  try  to  do  so.  "  Try "  it  is. 
Foxes  are  about,  but  we  linger  in  vain  hopes  of 
seeing  one  induced  to  quit  his  woodland  retreats. 
There  is  no  scent,  for  we  have  noted  that,  where 
we  have  seen  the  fox  pass  not  a  cou^^le  of 
minutes  before,  the  hounds  cannot  speak  to  it. 
Mounted  figures  winding  down  the  hillside  show 


''it  is  oue  opening  day."  57 

that  some  have  already  given  up  all  hopes  of 
sport,  and  we  come  reluctantly  to  the  conclusion 
that  it  is  no  use  waiting. 

"  If  you  are  ready  we  will  do  what  the  fox 
ought  to  have  done,  steal  quietly  away,"  my 
host  suggests,  and  we  turn  our  horses'  heads 
from  the  scene  of  action. 


A  MINCING  LANE  M.   F.  H. 

In  these  days,  when  information  ahout  an  event 
is  stale  a  couple  of  hours  after  the  event  has 
occurred,  there  is  a  not  altogether  unpleasing 
novelty  in  being  without  news.  One  hears  of 
things  too  quickly.  That  Uttle  telegraphic 
machine  in  the  hall  of  the  club  clicks  out  the 
latest  details  long  before  the  speedily  issued 
edition  of  the  evening  papers  can  pour  forth 
their  intelligence,  and  the  cynical  observer  may 
derive  no  little  satisfaction  from  noting  the 
demeanour  of  those  who  study  the  matter  printed 
on  the  endless  tapes.  A  big  race  has  been  run 
at  half-past  three,  and  very  soon  after  that  hour 
the  sanguine  speculator  takes  up  his  station  by 
the  little  glass  hive  to  see  what  sort  of  honey  the 
busy  bees  at  the  other  end  are  going  to  provide 
for  him.  He  has  been  favoured  with  one  of 
those  guides  to  misfortune,  a  "  tip "  for  the 
Great  Covertshire  Handicap,  and  in  a  few 
moments    the   news   will    be   here.      Yes !   the 

instrument  is  about  to  speak  !    M  e  .  B  e  i  g . 

What  is  this  ?     Oh  !     ''  Mr.  Bright  denounces 


A   MINCING   LANE    M.    F.    H.  59 

the  Irish  landlords  for "     Never  mind  Mr. 

Bright,  who  is  always  denouncing  somebody ; 
how  about  Christabel  for  the  Great  Covertshire  ? 
Here  it  is  at  last.  Now  for  the  20  to  1  chance  ! 
"Great  Covertshire  " — how  slowly 
this  machine  works  ! — "  Handicap"  the 
instrument  prints  off.  What  will  be  the  next 
letter?  If  it  is  anything  but  a  "  C,"  what  a 
dreadful  seU  it  will  be  after  that  plunge  !  Now 
then,  what  is  it?  "  c  "— Yes  !  "  h  "— Yes  ! 
hurrah!  "a" — no;  something  wrong  here — 
misprint  ?  These  machines  are  very  delicately 
constructed — ^'  r  l  e  s."  But  this  is  not  Chris- 
tabel ?  How  curious  ! — "  s  t  u  a  r  t."  "Charles 
Stuart  1,  II  Demonio  2,  The  Starling  3.  Ah! 
did  not  start,  of  course.  It  might  be  worse — 
but  stay:  what  is  this?  "Also  ran.  Lamprey, 
Polka,  Cinnamon,  Christabel,  and  Heliotrope." 
Confound  it ! 

By  this  sort  of  thing  a  man  is  kept  at  high 
pressure,  and  there  is  certainly  not  a  little  to  be 
said  in  favour  of  an  inconvenient  residence  in  a 
quiet  country  place  where  it  is  necessary  to  ride 
six  or  eight  miles  to  the  nearest  town  if  one 
wants  to  send  a  telegram  or  find  a  railway 
book-stall. 

To  such  a  spot  I  betook  myself  last  autumn, 
and  was  trotting  back  through   Sawbury  Park, 


60  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

about  half-past  one  o'clock  on  an  afternoon  in 
mid-September,  when  to  my  sm^prise  I  saw  a  red 
coat  in  the  distance.  What  an  astonishing  run 
the  cub  must  have  given  them  !  I  thought.  The 
hounds  were  to  have  met  at  Dunlow,  miles  away, 
and  that,  moreover,  at  half-past  five  in  the 
morning.  It  being  so,  and  I  had  the  master's 
own  authority  for  the  statement  as  to  the  pack, 
what  were  they  doing  here  at  this  time  ? 

"  Is  Mr.  Hatfield  here  ?  "  I  inquired  of  the 
wearer  of  the  red  coat,  as  I  cantered  up,  and 
found  him  seated  on  his  horse  in  the  road  by  the 
plantation,  just  through  the  park  gate.  I  wanted 
to  see  Hatfield,  and  knew  that  he,  the  hunt 
secretary  and  most  regular  of  attendants,  would 
be  out. 

*'I  dunno  him,"  was  the  reply;  and  I  scanned 
the  speaker.  One  does  not  want  or  expect  a 
servant  out  cub-hunting  to  be  particularly  smart. 
He  need  not  have  a  pretty  new  pink  coat,  and 
a  pair  of  absolutely  spotless  breeches  ;  but  it  is 
possible  to  be  neat  without  being  smart,  to  be 
clean  and  tidy  in  the  midst  of  wholesome  dirt, 
and  these  possibilities  were  far  from  being 
exemplified  in  the  person  of  this  whip — for  such 
he  was.  An  ill-fitting  saddle  and  badly  put  on 
bridle  decked  a  carelessly-groomed  horse.  Eusty 
stirrup-irons  held  ragged  boots,  and  altogether 


A   MINCING   LANE    M.    F.    H,  61 

the  figure  bore  as  little  resemblance  to  one  of 
the  business-like  looking  servants  of  the  Wessex 
Hunt  as  could  well  be  imagined.  I  rode  on, 
wondering  what  curious  change  could  have  come 
o'er  the  spirit  of  the  scene,  and  joined  a  knot 
of  horsemen  on  the  grass  by  the  roadside. 
There  was  not  a  familiar  face  among  them,  and 
I  was  about  to  speak  when  a  discontented  voice 
broke  in  with,  "  I  want  to  know  what  old  Poult's 
come  here  for?  That's  all;"  and  the  speaker 
paused  for  a  reply. 

"  He's  come  here  because  the  hounds  brought 
him,"  a  man,  apparently  a  brother-farmer, 
mounted  on  a  hairy-heeled  cart  mare,  answered. 

"And  Toppler  brought  the  hounds!"  replied 
No.  1.  "I  tell  you  I  saw  the  fox  go  away  with 
three  couple  of  hounds  after  him  before  we  left 
Hess's  farm.  Toppler's  chancing  it,  and  he's 
chanced  it  wrong." 

The  colloquy  had,  however,  answered  my  un- 
asked question.  These  were  Mr.  Poult's  hounds 
— Squire  Poult  he  preferred  to  be  called — and 
they  hunted  the  district  adjoining  the  Wessex 
country.  I  had  heard  of  the  pack  but  had  never 
seen  it,  and  here  was  an  unexpected  opportunity. 
Leaving  the  irate  farmers  to  discuss  the  where- 
abouts of  the  cub  and  the  proceedings  of  the 
three  couple  of  hounds  that  seemed,  so  far  as 


62  RACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

I  could  gather,  to  have  been  left  to  ramble  at 
their  own  sweet  will,  I  opened  the  tall  white 
gate  and  rode  across  a  grass  field  into  the 
covert.  One  honnd,  a  big  handsome  dog,  was 
enjoying  a  bath  in  the  muddy  bottom  of  a  ditch  ; 
a  group  of  four  or  five  horsemen  was  congregated 
in  a  ride,  a  labourer  holding  Toppler's  horse  ; 
and  Miss  Poult,  a  good-looking  girl,  accom- 
panied by  an  attractive  friend,  were  on  their 
cobs  a  little  way  off. 

Occasionally    a    hound    wandered    listlessly 
through  the  undergrowth  ;  the  sun  cast  shadows 
on   the   grass ;   the  cheery  encouragement  that 
should  spur  young  hounds  on  to  their  task  was 
altogether  wanting.      The   only  creatures  that 
could  possibly  enjoy  this  kind  of  sport  were  the 
cubs — and   there  did  not   seem  to  be  any.      I 
was  just  recalling  stories  that  I  had  heard  about 
the    eccentric    proceedings    of    Squire    Poult's 
hounds  when  I  caught  sight  of  a  red  coat  some 
distance  off  in  the  trees,  and  rode  towards  it. 
Probably  this  was  the  huntsman,  Toppler?     It 
was  ;   and  Toppler  was  about  to  blow  his  horn. 
I   watched   him    raising    it    to    his    lips    as    I 
approached,    and,  as   I    drew   nearer,   woudered 
tbat  no  sound  was  emitted.     His  head  was  held 
back  at  an  eccentric  angle ;  the  sun  gleamed  on 
the  metal.     Stay,  it  was   not  metal  at  all;   it 


A    MINCING    LANE    M.    F.    H.  G3 

was  glass — a  medicine  bottle.     Toppler  was  not 
going  to  blow  his  horn,  bnt  to  have  a  drink  ! 

A  closer  inspection  of  Toppler  strongly  sup- 
ported the  idea  that  the  instrument  I  had  seen 
was  that  upon  which  Squire  Poult's  huntsman 
performed  with  dangerous  regularity. 

Voices  the  other  side  of  the  hedge  divert 
attention  from  Toppler,  and  getting  through 
a  gap,  I  find  the  farmer  on  the  hairy-heeled 
mare  still  arguing  with  his  companion  as  to 
what  induced  the  tln-ee  couple  of  hounds  to 
leave  Hess's  farm.  Squire  Poult,  to  whom 
indirect  appeals  are  constantly  addressed,  is 
sitting  near  them,  apparently  waiting  to  act 
upon  the  decision  at  which,  upon  very  vague 
and  conjectural  premises,  the  opponents  may 
presently  arrive. 

At  length,  Toppler  having  mounted  his  white 
horse  and  reached  the  group,  the  motion  to 
return  to  Hess's  farm  appears  likely  to  be 
carried.  It  is  a  quarter  to  two  ;  I  have  ordered 
lunch — nearer  three  than  a  couple  of  miles  off — 
at  two  o'clock,  and  I  turn  my  mare's  head  and 
trot  off  homewards,  wondering  wherein  the  sport 
or  amusement  of  hunting  with  Squire  Poult's 
hounds  might  be  supposed  to  consist. 

***** 

Some  time  after  this  experience  of  cub-hunt- 


64  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

ing — not  mucli  hunting,  and  still  less  cub — my 
friend  Hyde  sent  me — a  sojourner  as  I  was  in 
the  land — a  cheery  invitation  to  dine  and  hunt 
next  morning,  to  come  as  early  as  possible,  so 
that  we  could  have  a  look  for  some  birds  in  the 
afternoon,  and  to  bring  a  horse  or  not  as  I  hked. 
I  rode  over  in  good  time  on  the  estimable  beast 
that  does  willing  service  as  hack  or  hunter,  and 
the  pursuit  and  bagging  of  a  few  brace  of  par- 
tridges, a  couple  of  hares,  and  haK  a  dozen 
rabbits  occupied  a  long  afternoon.  We  dined, 
three  friends  reinforcing  the  party,  and  as  we 
smoked  after  dinner  I  suddenly  recalled  to  mind 
that  the  hounds  met  at  Bridgeby,  a  long  fifteen 
miles  away. 

"  By-the-by,  we  shall  have  to  start  early," 
I  said.     "  Bridgeby  is  a  long  way  off." 

"Yes,"  Hyde  answered,  with  a  shade  of 
hesitating  confusion  in  his  voice ;  "  but  we  are 
not  going  with  the  Wessex.  Poult  meets  at  the 
White  Doe,  just  the  other  side  of  Coltsford." 

Now,  Hyde,  without  anything  even  distantly 
approaching  to  swagger  or  pretence,  was  one  of 
the  most  critical  of  sportsmen,  and  I  had  seen 
quite  enough  of  Squire  Poult's  hounds  to  wonder 
greatly  what  this  might  mean. 

Presently,  however,  Hyde  retired  to  dig  up 
a  box  of  special  cigars ;  and  Sutcliffe,  one  of  our 


A   MINCING   LANE    M.    F.    H.  65 

friends,  expressed  doubts  as  to  the  nature  of  the 
sport  we  were  hkely  to  find  on  the  morrow. 

"  Poult  is  an  admirable  sportsman  in  Mincing 
Lane,  but  only  an  indifferent  woolstapler  in  the 
country,"  Sutcliffe  cheerily  remarked.  "  Rum 
fellow  he  is,  too  !  I  was  bobbing  along  with  the 
hounds  the  other  day,  and  was  well  forward — 
no  credit  to  me,  for  there  was  no  pace.  All  of 
a  sudden  somebody  behind  me  called  out,  '  If 
you  want  to  ride  there,  sir,  perhaps  you  would 
like  to  take  the  hounds  home  and  keep  them  ! ' 
It  was  Poult,  and  he  was  in  a  rage  because  I 
happened  to  be  before  him.  Considering  that 
he  calls  the  hounds  his,  and  expects  everybody 
to  subscribe,  that  is  rather  going  it,  I  think." 

"  But  he's  very  considerate  sometimes,  you'll 
admit  ?  He  was  to  Birchington,  for  instance," 
Stuart,  another  guest,  broke  in.  "  When  Birch- 
ington came  down  to  these  parts  he  turned  up 
at  a  meet  one  day,  beautiful  to  behold.  Poult 
did  not  hke  the  look  of  him  at  first,  and  disliked 
still  more  the  patronizing  tone  in  which  Birch- 
ington admired  the  hounds.  But  when  he 
trusted  that  he  might  forward  a  cheque.  Poult 
thought  him  one  of  the  best  got-up,  most  sterling 
sportsmen  he  had  ever  seen.  We  did  have  a 
gallop  that  day,  and  Birchington,  who  fondly 
supposed  that    the    ditches   were    a    good    bit 

5 


66  RACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

narrower  than  they  were — it  was  early  in  the 
season,  and  the  undergrowth  was  awfully  de- 
ceptive— rode  at  one,  a  regular  sepulchre,  and 
got  well  in,  wrong  side  up.  You  know  the  sort 
of  benediction  Poult  would  have  uttered  if  one 
of  us  had  come  to  grief  while  he  was  pounding 
down  the  lane,  but  the  stranger  was  different. 
What  do  you  think  he  did  ?  Actually  pulled  up 
and  told  us  to  come  to  the  rescue.  '  Stop,  sir, 
stop  ! '  he  yelled  out  to  Hyde  and  me  :  '  stop 
and  help  the  gentleman  out.  He  hasn't  paid 
his  subscription  yet.' " 

"  He  ought  to  have  delayed  payment  till  he 
was  sure  of  the  ditches,"  I  suggested;  "but 
Hyde  is  so  keen — "  and  I  was  about  to  express 
wonder  at  finding  him  among  the  followers  of 
that  indifferent  "votary  of  Diana,"  Mr.  Toppler, 
when  Sutcliffe  broke  in  with — 

"  Yes  ;  it  is  not  so  much  the  fox  as  the  grey 
pony  that  Hyde  goes  to  hunt;"  and  then  I 
remembered  that  Miss  Poult,  a  very  pretty  girl, 
had  been  riding  a  grey  pony  in  the  morning 
when  I  saw  the  hunt,  and  out  of  regard  for  my 
fiiend's  prospective  father-in-law  no  more  was 
said  about  Poult  when  the  cigars  had  been  found. 

It  was  not  with  any  very  sanguine  anticipa- 
tions of  sport  that  I  reached  the  meet  at  eleven 
o'clock  next  morning.     About  a  dozen  men  were 


A    MINCING    LANE    M.    F.    H.  67 

there,  but  no  sign  of  a  hound ;  and  it  was  past 
the  half-hour  when  Toppler,  looking  more  than 
usually  dilapidated,  came  up  with  the  pack. 
That  the  hounds  were  a  very  good-looking  lot 
every  one  must  have  admitted  ;  but  looks  are 
not  everything. 

After  a  time  Poult  gave  the  word  to  open 
proceedings,  and  Toppler  rode  through  a  gate 
into  the  field  which  separated  us  from  a  covert. 
The  hounds,  however,  showed  a  curious  dis- 
inclination to  follow  their  huntsman,  and  loitered 
about  the  road  and  ditches,  or  from  a  station 
near  the  gate  surveyed  affairs,  keeping  one  eye 
on  Toppler  and  the  other  on  my  badly  turned- 
out  acquaintance,  who  was  acting  as  whip. 
Toppler  blew  his  horn,  and  the  pack,  still  keep- 
ing a  cautious  distance,  formed  a  semi-circle 
round  him.  Sutcliffe  w^as  chuckling  to  himself, 
and  I  asked  the  reason  of  his  mirth. 

"  Why,  you  see,"  he  replied,  "  sometimes 
Poult  hunts  the  hounds  himself  and  Toppler  is 
whip,  and  sometimes  Toppler  hunts  them.  He's 
an  awful  brute  with  hounds,  and  they  don't 
understand  quite,  I  suppose,  in  what  capacity 
they  are  to  regard  him.  Look  at  that  old 
hound's  face.  Could  anything  say  plainer, 
'  That's  the  fellow  who  gave  me  such  a  oner 
the  other  day  when  I  had  not  done   anything 


68  RACECOUESE   AND   COVERT    SIDE. 

wrong.     I'm   not   going  to   chance   it   again '  ? 
Look  there  !     What  a  fool  the  fellow  is  !  " 

Sutcliffe's  exclamation  was  drawn  from  him 
when  Dairymaid,  apparently  awakening  to  the 
truth  that  some  one  ought  to  make  a  move,  had 
trotted  up  to  the  now  irate  Toppler,  and  had 
been  rewarded  for  her  obedience  by  a  cut  from 
his  whip,  which  quickly  sent  her  back  to  her 
companions. 

At  length  hounds  were  coaxed  and  driven 
into  covert,  but  either  there  was  no  fox  there 
or  they  could  not  find  him,  so  after  a  tedious 
delay  and  a  wrangle  as  to  where  it  would  be 
best  to  try  next,  we  trotted  off  to  a  spinney 
about  a  mile  away,  where  no  better  luck  awaited 
us.  Hyde  was  happy  enough  with  Lucy  Poult, 
and  Sutcliffe's  keen  sense  of  the  ludicrous  kept 
him  amused.  I  found  it  extremely  dull,  how- 
ever, and  in  the  course  of  a  third  move,  finding 
myself  in  the  neighbourhood  of  my  friend  the 
commodore's  house,  I  turned  my  horse's  head 
and  trotted  off  to  look  him  up,  with  a  view 
to  some  lunch. 

Many  comic  incidents  that  had  taken  place 
with  Poult's  hounds  were  related  as  we  strolled 
out  for  a  cigarette  afterwards,  and  I  never 
expected  to  see  the  willing  and  well-bred,  but 
misdirected,  creatures  again,  which  only  shows 


A   MINCING    LANE    M.    F.    H.  G9 

how  little  one  apprehends  what  is  going  to 
happen.  Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  our  pacing 
up  and  down,  the  commodore  stopped,  directed 
my  attention  to  some  moving  objects  in  the 
distance  away  to  the  rights  and  by  degrees  we 
made  out  the  hunt  approaching.  Strictly  speak- 
ing, they  were  out  of  theii-  own  country,  but 
tliey  were,  of  course,  at  liberty  to  follow  their 
fox  wherever  he  led  them,  and  here  they  came. 
We  made  out  some  hounds,  and  as  they  drew 
nearer  I  detected  the  object  of  pursuit  stealing 
over  the  ground  a  couple  of  fields  in  advance, 
heading  almost  in  our  direction. 

''  Look  !  "  I  said.  "  There's  the  fox.  Do 
you  see  ?  " 

*'Yes,  I  see  it;  but — by  Jove!  look,  just 
look  at  it !  "  cried  the  commodore,  bursting  into 
a  fit  of  laughter.  "Poult  will  be  the  death  of 
me  !     Do  look  at  the  procession !  " 

I  did  so,  and  saw,  first  of  all  -- 

The  haee. 

Item,  a  couple  of  hounds.. 

Item,  Poult,  M.  F.  H. 

Item,  three  jealous  friends  in  attendance. 

Item,  two  or  three  couple  more  hounds. 

Item,  the  field  in  general,  Sutcliffe  well  up, 
Toppler  in  the  ruck. 

Item,  the   balance   of  the   pack,   straggling 


70  EACECOURSE    AND   COVERT    SIDE. 

loosely   and  following   on   at   long  and  distant 
intervals. 

We  watch  the  disappearing  sportsmen  till 
our  attention  is  called  by  a  clucking  and  flutter- 
ing in  the  poultry  yard. 

"  That's  it.  I  knew  how  it  would  be  ! 
There's  one  of  those  wretched  hounds  chasing 
my  chickens  about !  "  the  commodore  exclaimed, 
hurrying  off;  and,  indeed,  we  found  two  four- 
legged  truants  from  Poult's  kennels  misconduct- 
ing themselves  as  the  commodore  had  surmised. 
These,  being  driven  off  with  execrations,  set  off' 
on  23rivate  business  of  their  own,  and  we  resumed 
our  chat  till  interrupted  by  the  appearance  of  a 
horseman  trotting  up  the  drive.  It  was  Stuart, 
who  had  followed  my  example  of  coming  to  look 
np  our  friend. 

"Did  you  kill  your  fox?"  the  commodore 
asked,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes,  as,  Stuart 
having  given  his  horse  over  to  a  groom,  we 
entered  the  house. 

"  I  don't  believe  it  was  a  fox  they  were 
running  at  all ;  I  believe  it  was  a  hare.  But, 
oddly  enough,  they  did  kill  a  fox,  chopped  it  in 
the  wood  there,  and  I  never  saw  such  a  thing 
in  my  life.  The  hounds  wouldn't  touch  it.  That 
drunken  old  rascal,  Toppler,  yelled  to  them  in 
vaiu.     One    old  fellow  had    a  sniff'  at   the  fox, 


A   MINCING    LANE    M.    F.    H.  71 

and  walked  away;  and  of  course  Toppler  gave 
Mm  one  to  take  with  him  and  help  to  remind 
him  that  he  ought  to  like  it.  Another  hound 
just  pulled  a  hit  off  and  dropped  it,  and  a  few 
of  them  had  a  wrangle  over  a  leg  for  the  sake 
of  the  row.  Just  then  an  old  hare — I'm  nearly 
certain  it  was  the  heast  we'd  been  hunting  for  the 
last  half-hour — -jumped  up,  and,  if  you'll  believe 
me,  half  the  pack  set  off  in  hot  pursuit,  with 
the  others  following  the  lead.  Old  Poult  and 
Toppler — who  was  getting  very  drunk ;  he  carries 
a  couple  of  medicine  bottles  full  of  rum  about 
with  him — will  have  to  eat  their  fox  between 
them,  if  they  want  it  eaten," 

"Poult  can't  have  much  fun,  I  should  think. 
Why  does  he  keep  hounds  ?  "  I  inquire. 

"It  is  sim^^le  enough,"  Stuart  answers. 
"  Poult  would  be  nobody  in  the  neighbourhood, 
but  the  master  of  Squire  Poult's  hounds  is  to 
some  extent  a  personage.  It  only  shows  how  the 
brutes  will  deteriorate,  for  there's  hardly  a  better 
bred  pack  in  ,the  country.  However,  I  only 
hope  Hyde  will  marry  Lucy  Poult,  who's  a 
deuced  nice  little  girl,  and  try  to  teach  his 
father-in-law  what  a  pack  of  hounds  are  sup- 
posed to  do.  Yes  ;  and  if  Toppler  drinks  himself 
to  death  during  the  wedding  festivities,  it  will 
be  an  excellent  thing  for  the  hunt." 


72  EACECOUKSE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

Meantime,  if  anybody  wants  a  day's  sport  he 
will  do  well  to  avoid  a  Mincing  Lane  M.  F.  H. 
Not,  let  it  be  added,  that  good  sportsmen  do 
not  come  from  the  city.  Men  who  not  only 
ride  but  who  ride  to  hounds  are  plentiful  there ; 
but  Poult  M.  F.  H,  is  not  one  of  the  number. 


EIDING  TO  HOUNDS. 

"  KiDiNG  to  hounds"  may  mean  anything  or 
nothing — that  is  to  say,  the  rider  may  surmount 
and  overcome  dangers  which  he  woukl  not  meet 
in  an  ordinary  steeplechase,  or  he  may  jog  along 
as  calmly  and  quietly  as  he  would  do  in  Rotten 
Row.  All  depends  upon  how  the  man  means  to 
ride ;  and  very  likely  he  does  not  mean  to 
ride  at  all,  as  horsemen  understand  the  phrase. 
To  go  out  hunting  is  one  thing ;  to  risk  collar 
bones  and  ribs,  to  say  nothing  of  more  uncom- 
fortable fractures,  by  jumping  ugly  places  is  quite 
another.  Let  it  be  supposed  that  the  fox  has 
been  viewed  away,  and  that  hounds  are  running  ; 
what  in  reality  happens  ?  It  is  not  the  case,  as 
fond  mothers  suppose,  that  the  whole  field  race 
with  one  another  for  the  privilege  of  first  jumping 
a  five-barred  gate,  a  flowing  river,  or  anything 
short  of  a  haystack  that  may  be  before  them. 

The  huntsman  gets  to  his  hounds,  the  master 
is  in  his  place,  and  the  whip,  whose  shrill  scream 


7-i  EACECOUKSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

has  lately  resounded,  kuows  his  duty  ;  but  what 
of  the  field  ?  Some  ten  per  cent,  ride  straight 
on  at  the  hedge  and  ditch  in  front  of  them ;  a 
couple  jump  an  awkward  stile  ;  half  a  dozen 
believe  that  hounds  will  swing  round  to  the 
right,  and  following  one  wary  sportsman,  who 
gives  rise  to  this  supposition,  they  charge  a 
flight  of  rails  in  that  direction,  which  the  fourth 
man  breaks,  leaving  a  very  simple  jump  for  the 
fifth  man,  who  had  been  looking  out  for  such  a 
casualty ;  and  for  the  sixth,  who  did  not  intend 
to  brave  it  at  all,  unless  the  way  was  cleared  for 
him.  Seeing  how  things  are,  a  few  from  the 
miain  body  gallop  across  the  field  to  take  advan- 
tage of  the  broken  rail,  and  a  few  more  hesitating 
spirits  have  made  up  their  minds  to  ride  boldly 
— as  boldly  as  may  be — at  the  fence,  over  which 
one  of  them  falls,  another  refusal  unseats  the 
rider,  and  a  loose  horse  careers  away. 

A  sixteen-stone  farmer  has  turned  into  the 
road  to  the  left,  and  is  pounding  along  down  it 
with  a  trotting  and  cantering  contingent  at  his 
horse's  heels,  while  nearly  half  the  field  are 
following  each  other  over  a  gap  which  they  jump 
in  divers  fashions.  Some  ride  at  it  neatly 
enough,  others  go  at  a  very  sober  trot,  and  there 
are  those  who  walk  their  horses  up  the  bank,  and, 
with  an  amount  of  deliberation  irritating  to  men 


EIDING    TO    HOUNDS.  75 

behind  who  are  anxious  to  get  on,  cautiously 
steer  their  mounts  over  the  ditch  beyond.  It  is 
not  thus  that  a  picked  field  ride  in  Leicester- 
shire, but  in  what  are  called  "  the  provinces"  the 
sketch  given  is  a  fair  one. 

The  question  why,  this  being  so,  hunting  is 
so  widely  popular,  has  occupied  the  pens  of  many 
writers.  Mr.  Anthony  Trollope  wrote  an  essay 
on  "  The  Man  who  Hunts  and  Doesn't  Lilve  it," 
describing  the  earnest  but  ineffectual  attempts 
which  he  makes  to  like  it  when  the  season  he 
has  professed  to  long  for  comes  round  to  him. 
Trollope  hunted  and  liked  it,  notwithstanding 
that  his  short  sight  often  brought  him  to  grief. 

"  Now  I  think  I've  finished  !  "  he  is  reported 
to  have  said  once  as  he  clambered  out  of  a  ditch 
in  Essex,  and  picked  up  his  spectacles,  jirepara- 
tory  to  the  taking  of  measures  for  the  extraction 
of  his  horse. 

''  Finished  what  ?  "  a  friend,  who  had  pulled 
up  to  see  that  there  were  no  ill  efi'ects  from  the 
cropper,  inquired. 

"Why,"  TroUope  replied,  "it  seemed  to  be 
my  destiny  to  feel  the  bottom  of  every  ditch  in 
the  Eoothings,  and  I've  been  into  so  many  that 
this  must  be  the  last." 

He  pictures,  however,  the  man  who  does  not 
like  it.     The  subject  of  his  essay  has  liked  it 


7G  RACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

extremely  all  the  summer.  A  new  pair  of  top 
Loots  is  a  pretty  toy,  and  more  decorative  in  a 
gentleman's  dressing-room  than  any  other  kind 
of  garment.  "  It  is  again,"  Mr.  Trollope  declares, 
"  pleasant  for  such  a  man  to  talk  of  his  horses, 
especially  to  young  women  with  whom,  perhaps, 
the  ascertained  fact  of  the  winter  employment 
does  give  him  some  credit."  To  pose  as  a  hunt- 
ing man  amuses  him  and  flatters  his  vanity ;  but 
there  are  compensating  disadvantages.  He  must 
feel  that  he  is  not  the  thing  he  gives  himself 
out  to  be,  and,  feeling  this,  can  hardly  help 
experiencing  a  certain  shame  ;  nor  can  hunting 
talk  be  wholly  agreeable  to  a  man  who  does  not 
really  ride  to  hounds,  though  he  sees  the  pack 
he  nominally  hunts  with  at  the  meet,  trots  down 
roads  and  lanes,  or  over  a  few  fields  with  them 
w^hen  they  are  going  to  draw  a  covert,  and  may 
by  luck  casually  come  across  them  in  the  course 
of  the  day. 

This  man  hates  riding  to  hounds  in  the  proper 
sense  of  the  term,  and  for  the  proceedings  of  the 
pack,  apart  from  their  function  as  leaders  of  the 
field,  he  cares  nothing.  He  is,  indeed,  too 
anxious  to  watch  the  hounds,  for  there  is  always 
the  risk  of  finding  his  way  into  a  field,  and  not 
being  so  easily  able  to  find  his  way  out  again. 
Such  a  man  was  criticised  by  an  old  Duke  of 


BIDING   TO   HOUNDS.  77 

Beaufort,  who  was  a  keen  and  practical  sports- 
man, but  who  did  not  Hke  jumping,  and  had  tlie 
courage  to  refrain  sedulously.  He  used  to  say 
of  a  neighbour  of  his,  who  was  not  so  constant, 
*'  Jones  is  an  ass.  Look  at  him  now.  There  he 
is,  and  he  can't  get  out.  Jones  does  not  like 
jumping,  but  he  jumps  a  little,  and  I  see  him 
pounded  every  day.  I  never  jump  at  all,  and  I'm 
always  free  to  go  where  I  like."  Jones  ought 
never  to  have  jumped,  for  if  a  hunting  man  be  firm 
neither  in  his  seat  nor  his  intentions,  the  prospect 
of  his  coming  to  grief  is  well-nigh  a  certainty. 

Some  men  love  the  sport  while  they  hate  the 
fences,  and  of  these  there  is  one  very  notable 
example,  whose  name  will  at  once  occur  to  many 
readers.  Mr.  Jorrocks  was  an  enthusiast.  "  Oh, 
how  that  beautiful  word  *  fox  '  gladdens  my  'eart 
and  warms  the  declinin'  embers  of  my  age  !  " 
the  fat  little  grocer  said ;  and  he  meant  it.  The 
horse  and  the  hound  were  made  for  each  other, 
and  Nature  threw  in  the  fox  as  a  connecting 
link  between  the  two,  was  the  opinion  of  the 
master  of  the  Handley  Cross  Hounds.  Mr. 
Jorrocks  dreamed  of  the  chase,  as  he  told  his 
hearers  on  a  famous  occasion.  He  saw  foxes 
in  visions  sitting  on  his  counterpane,  and  his 
nightmares  were  that  he  was  pursuing  one,  that 
he  could  see  him  crawling   along  a  hedgerow. 


78  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

but  that,  having  got  out  his  horn,  he  could  uot 
sound  it. 

But  Mr.  JoiTocks  had  a  strong  objection  to 
the  fences.  A  fall  was  an  awful  thing,  he  de- 
clared in  the  course  of  his  lecture ;  and,  having 
pictured  a  great  sixteen-hand  horse  lying  on  one 
like  a  blanket,  "  sendin'  one's  werry  soul  out  o' 
one's  nostrils.  Dreadful  thought !  Vere's  the 
brandy  ?  "  was  the  conclusion  of  his  speech.  It 
is  the  jumping  of  the  fences  which  adds  the 
zest  to  riding  to  hounds  with  many  sportsmen ; 
but  with  Mr,  Jorrocks — it  is  hard  to  leave  this 
admirably  drawn  character  when  once  he  has 
been  mentioned — riding  to  hounds  was  delightful 
in  spite  of,  not  because  of,  the  jumping.  "  Paid 
sixpence  for  catching  my  horse"  is  a  common 
item  in  his  diary,  and  a  caught  horse  implies 
a  cropper.     Jorrocks  unmistakably  "funked." 

John  Leech  has  immortalized  one  of  his 
mishaps,  where  he  stands  on  the  bank,  his  whip 
twisted  in  the  reins  of  Artaxerxes,  and  ''  Gently, 
old  fellow,  gently,  Artaxerxes,  my  bouy  !  "  having 
failed,  cries  ''  Come  hup,  I  say,  you  hugly 
brute!  "  as  he  endeavours  to  beguile  or  frighten 
the  clumsy  creature  over  the  fence,  on  the  far 
side  of  which  in  imagination  he  sees  "  a  plough 
or  'arrow  turned  teeth  huppermost." 

Happy   is   the    man  who   enjoys   all   that  is 


RIDING    TO    HOUNDS.  79 

implied  in  the  phrase  riding  to  hounds,  and  has 
the  time  and  the  means  for  gratifying  his  fancy. 
To  see  hounds  work  is  one  of  his  dehghts.  It 
may  not  be  strictly  true,  that  wherever  hounds 
can  go  mounted  men  can  follow ;  for  a  few  feet 
of  water  more  or  less  makes  little  difference  to 
a  dog  that  swims,  while  it  may  make  all  the 
difference  to  a  horse  that  jumps,  and  there  are 
sometimes  ways  through  a  fence  for  hounds 
which  are  not  practicable  for  riders. 

But  these  are  exceptions  in  ordinary  countries, 
and  none  such  are  in  the  way  of  the  man  whom 
we  now  suppose  to  be  riding  to  hounds.  He 
knows  his  horse,  he  knows  himself,  and  is  so 
thoroughly  at  home  that  nothing  diverts  his 
attention  from  the  leading  hounds  as  he  gallops 
easily  along  by  the  side  of,  but  not  too  near,  the 
body  of  the  pack.  Fences  to  him  are  like  plums 
in  a  child's  cake ;  the  cake  is  all  good,  but  the 
pluxns  are  best.  He  collects  his  horse  and  sends 
him  steadily  at  timber,  jumping  sideways  per- 
haps, for  reasons  well  understood  by  himself ;  he 
pulls  the  high-couraged  animal  together  and 
st^ads  him  with  a  rush  at  the  fourteen-feet  brook, 
hands  him  daintily  over  a  stile,  and  at  the 
ordinary  hedge  and  ditch  leaves  his  head  fairly 
loose  and  trusts  to  his  intelligence  to  do  what 
is  best  for  himself  and  his  rider. 


80  RACECOURSE    AND   COVERT    SIDE. 

Five  and  twenty  minutes  of  this,  at  nearly- 
racing  pace,  makes  his  horse  lean  a  little  on 
the  bridle,  and  a  check  is  not  unwelcome. 
"Duchess"  goes  off  as  if  she  had  found  out 
something,  but  her  he  doubts.  She  does  not 
speak  to  it ;  if  she  did  he  would  hardly  believe 
her.  But  surely  "  Dainty  "  will  hit  it  off?  He 
has  always  had  confidence  in  her,  and  as  she 
goes  feathering  down  the  hedgerow  she  presently 
utters  a  reassuring  note.  That  is  it  !  On  they 
go  again,  the  little  horse  cleverly  recovering 
from  a  slitlier  at  the  landing  side  of  a  fence  in 
a  way  w^hich  increases  his  rider's  appreciation 
of  the  animal,  and  possibly  of  his  own  horseman- 
ship. The  pair  may  be  left  scurrying  fairly 
over  the  country  to  take  care  of  themselves. 
For  sportsmen  such  as  these  there  is,  perhaps, 
no  pleasure  so  great  as  riding  to  hounds. 


A  SHAKP  SPOHTSMAN. 

Some  men  are  born  "sharps."  If  they  are  needy 
and  really  want  the  money  to  obtain  which  they 
hover  about  the  border  line  of  dishonesty,  they 
usually  find  their  way  before  a  sitting  magistrate, 
or  occupy  the  attention  of  a  jury  ;  the  odd  thing 
is  that  numbers  of  wealthy  men  take  a  pride  in 
performing  acts  which  outspoken  persons  call  by 
ugly  names. 

Such  an  one  is  Lord  Fearstone.  His  father 
is  rich,  even  for  a  peer.  Fearstone  has  a  liberal 
allowance ;  he  does  not  want  money  to  spend, 
but  he  is  never  so  happy  as  when,  by  the 
exercise  of  some  cunning  dodge,  he  can  win  a 
bet  from  some  acquaintance.  He  is  familiar 
with  every  "  catch  "  that  is  invented,  and  is 
one  of  the  most  expert  manipulators  of  the 
three-card  trick,  common  to  his  brethren  in 
morality  on  the  lower  sort  of  racecourses,  that 
I  ever  saw.  He  will  bet  on  everything  except 
straightforward   and   legitimate   sport.      "  Good 

6 


82  RACECOUESE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

things"  on  the  tiirf  are  his  delight;  but  touts 
deceive,  very  often  because  they  cannot  help  it, 
and  good  things,  as  some  of  us  have  paid  to 
learn,  do  not  invariably  come  off. 

Fearstone  rides  about  half  as  well  as  he 
thinks  he  does,  and  is,  therefore,  an  undeniably 
fine  horseman,  an  accomplishment  which  he  is 
the  better  able  to  display  to  advantage  because 
his  cattle  for  the  most  part  are  very  poor,  and 
to  make  them  do  their  work  requires  very  special 
skill.  Their  owner  endeavours  to  buy  his  horses 
from  professional  dealers  for  less  than  their  real 
value ;  and  this  is  an  attempt  in  which  cleverer 
men  than  Fearstone  constantly  fail.  By  this 
time  he  is  slowly  but  surely  learning  that  an 
animal  honestly  worth  JC200  is  not  always  to  be 
picked  up  for  much  under  half  that  sum,  though 
it  is  only  fair  to  Fearstone's  astuteness  to  con- 
fess that  if  he  does  not  succeed  in  buying  his 
mounts  for  less  than  their  legitimate  price,  he 
is  frequently  able  to  sell  them  remuneratively 
to  budding  acquaintances. 

I  had  never  sought  the  honour  of  intimacy 
with  Fearstone,  partly  because  I  did  not  hke 
him,  and  partly  because  I  could  not  afford  it — 
the  mental  strain  of  keeping  clear  of  his  shrewd- 
ness and  the  expense  of  succumbing  to  it  were 
equally  distasteful  to  me ;  but  I  visited  a  good 


A    SHARP    SPORTSMAN.  83 

deal  at  a  house  near  Palbridge  Towers,  his 
father's  place,  and  so  could  not  help  knowing 
a  good  deal  about  this  ingenious  youth. 

One  morning,  early  in  the  hunting  season, 
hounds  met  at  the  White  Mill,  about  five  miles 
from  the  house  where  I  was  staying,  and  some 
four  from  the  Towers,  which  we  had  to  pass  ; 
and  my  host  had  agreed  to  call  and  pick  up 
Fearstone  and  his  friends  in  passing. 

As  it  happened,  I  had  been  up  early  in  the 
morning  to  get  some  birds  which  I  wanted  to 
send  away ;  and  this  being  done,  and  breakfast 
happily  despatched,  we  mounted  and  set  off. 
On  reaching  the  Towers,  we  found  the  horses 
being  led  up  and  down,  and  their  riders  at  the 
door  lighting  cigars  and  cigarettes  preparatory 
to  starting.  Fearstone  is  a  long,  dark-haired, 
smooth-faced  young  man  of  five  and  twenty  ; 
and  he  was  about  to  get  into  the  saddle  of  a 
big  bay  mare  with  very  queer  fore  legs,  when  he 
paused,  and  said  casually,  ''  Which  way  shall  we 
go  this  morning  ?  ' ' 

"  Why,  my  dear  fellow,  what  a  question  to 
ask !  "  said  Flutterton,  who  was  staying  in  the 
same  house  as  myself,  and  had  a  tolerably 
intimate  acquaintance  with  the  country.  ' '  Which 
way  should  we  go  ?  Past  the  pike,  through  the 
old  deer  forest,  and  out  again  in  the  lane  not 


84  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

half  a  mile  from  the  mill,  I  should  say.  It's 
like  asking  the  way  fi'om  St.  James's  Street  to 
Hyde  Park  Corner." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  Fearstone  replied, 
with  an  appearance  of  reflection;  "it  seems  to 
me  that  along  the  road  is  the  best  way  after 
all.  That's  how  it  struck  me  the  other  day,  and 
we're  so  used  to  going  the  other  way  that  it's 
difficult  to  decide." 

"Difficult?  Not  in  the  least!  What  have 
you  been  having  for  breakfast  ?  Why,  it's  more 
than  half  a  mile  further — near  a  mile,  I  should 
think,  and  bad  going  on  the  road,"  Flutterton 
rejoined. 

"  Well,  I  ought  to  know,  oughtn't  I  ?  "  Fear- 
stone  said. 

"Yes;  you  ought,  and  you  don't — that's 
the  odd  part  of  it,"  Flutterton  argued.  "  You 
haven't  had  '  the  boy '  for  breakfast,  have  you  ? 
I  never  heard  such  a  thing  !  " 

"  I  should  be  inclined  to  bet  about  it,  all  the 
same,"  Fearstone  quietly  said;  "and  I'll  tell 
you  what  I'll  do.  I'll  bet  you  a  pony  that, 
going  round  by  the  road,  I  touch  the  gate-post 
of  the  mill  before  you,  you  riding  through  the 
forest  the  usual  way." 

"  Done — for  a  hundred,  if  you  like  ! "  Flutter- 
ton  answered. 


A    SHARP    SPORTSMAN.  85 

*'  You  ought  to  lay  me  two  to  one,"  Fear- 
stone  answered.  ''  However,  it  does  not  matter, 
though  you  may  be  right  after  all." 

Flutterton  asked  me  to  ride  with  him,  which 
I  readily  consented  to  do,  because  I  had  a  strong 
idea  that  I  saw  the  drift  of  Fearstone's  dodge  ; 
and  our  host,  Brocklesby,  also  joined  our  party, 
leaving  Fearstone  and  his  friends  to  follow  the 
road.  We  trotted  to  the  lodge  gates,  and  then 
turned  our  horses'  heads  in  different  directions, 
our  party  pointing  for  a  narrow  lane  straight  in 
front  of  us,  while  the  other  turned  to  the  right, 
down  the  highway. 

''  The  first  to  touch  the  gate-posts  of  the 
mill  for  a  hundred  !  "  Fearstone  said.  "  Any 
one  else  ?  " 

"  I'll  have  it  for  a  pony,"  I  replied. 

''And  I  another  hundred,  if  you  like?" 
continues  Brocklesby. 

"Yerywell.  Done.  Are  you  ready?  Then 
off!  "  cried  Fearstone;  and  off  we  all  started  at 
a  good  round  pace,  my  friends  and  self  in  the 
middle  of  the  green  lane,  the  others  on  the 
grass  at  each  side  of  the  road. 

"  It's  all  right,  isn't  it  ?  What  the  deuce 
does  he  mean  ? "  Flutterton  inquired,  as  we 
scudded  along. 

"Quite   right,  I   should  think,'  Brocklesby 


86  BACECOUESE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

said.  "  He's  got  some  dodge  on,  but  I  can't 
think  what  it  is." 

''  I  think  I  know,  and  I  think  he's  out  in  his 
reckoning,"  I  observe,  as  we  turn  off  through  a 
well-used  gap  and  speed  along  a  broad  track 
towards  what  is  still  known  as  the  deer  forest, 
though  no  deer  have  been  in  it  for  many  years 
past. 

''  They've  been  putting  up  gates  here,  I 
see.  What's  that  for  ? "  Flutterton  said,  as 
we  galloped  on  to  the  green  ride,  past  a  stout 
timber  structure  which  would  have  been  an 
effectual  stopper  had  it  been  closed.  ''  Lord 
Saxonhurst's  going  to  stock  the  place  again, 
I  suppose?  " 

My  horse,  excited  at  the  pace,  had  shot 
ahead,  and  my  friends'  horses  followed  his 
example  to  the  best  of  their  ability,  so  that  con- 
versation flagged  as  we  made  good  our  way  along 
a  mile  of  excellent  going,  turned  into  the  road, 
and,  no  sign  of  the  other  party  being  visible, 
cantered  leisurely  along  to  the  Mill,  where  we 
touched  the  posts  according  to  agreement — 
friends  who  were  there  before  us  looking  on  and 
wondering  what  it  meant — and  waited  the  arrival 
of  our  opponents. 

Fearstone  was  frankly  astonished  when  he 
and  his  companions  cantered  up  some  minutes 


A    SHAEP    SPOETSMAN.  87 

later  to  find  us   quietly  sitting   on  our  horses 
watching  for  them. 

"Ah  !  I  was  wrong — made  a  mistake  !  "  Fear- 
stone  remarked  rather  sulkily,  and  one  or  two  of 
his  companions  looked  somewhat  unsympathetic 
not  to  say  secretly  delighted,  from  which  I 
inferred  that  their  host  had  been  exercising  some 
of  his  arts  upon  them  since  they  had  been  at  the 
Towers. 

''  I  can't  make  out  what  you  were  driving 
at,"  Flutterton  innocently  observed.  But  I  had 
an  idea  about  it  all. 

Fearstone  knew  that  the  gates  which  Flut- 
terton had  noticed  had  been  lately  put  up,  that 
they  were  always  kept  shut,  and  that  they  were 
too  big  to  be  jumped.  He  did  not  know,  how- 
ever, something  else,  namely,  that  while  looking 
for  my  birds  in  the  morning  at  a  point  where  my 
friend's  estate  adjoined  the  forest,  I  had  been 
chatting  to  the  earl's  steward,  and  had  said  I 
was  going  to  hunt,  which  had  put  it  into  his 
head  that  hounds  might  cross  the  forest ;  and 
that  thereupon  he  had  told  the  keeper  to  see 
that  the  gates  were  left  open.  Fearstone  had  no 
doubt  supposed  that,  as  usual,  the  gates  were 
closed,  and  that  we  should  be  stopped  by  them, 
in  which  case  there  would  have  been  nothing 
for  it   but   to  return  to   the   high-road,  by   the 


88  RACECOUESE    AND   COVERT    SIDE. 

time  that  lie  and  his  friends  were  a  good  mile 
ahead. 

There  is  always  a  calm  joy  in  knowing  that 
Fearstone  has  over-reached  himself.  By  degrees, 
of  course,  the  story  leaked  out.  I  casually 
explained  to  one  or  two  friends  what  a  sad  dis- 
appointment it  must  have  been  for  his  lordship 
if  he  had  indeed  calculated  on  those  uncompro- 
mising portals  being  closed  against  us,  and  how 
easy  it  was  to  ride  through  an  open  gate.  Eather 
less  than  no  sympathy  was  expressed  for  him ; 
indeed,  how  Fearstone  was  "  had  "  was  fashioned 
into  an  effective  anecdote,  the  embellishments  of 
which  told  little  in  favour  of  the  trickster's  acute- 
ness.  He  hates  "  parting,"  and  paid  up  with 
anything  but  good  grace. 

Such  anecdotes  are  extremely  popular,  not 
only  in  Fearstone's  native  county  but  in  his 
clubs.  One  of  the  most  amusing  evenings  we 
ever  had  at  the  Mutton  Chops  was  when  Fear- 
stone made  a  set  at  Wynnerly,  who  had  just 
been  elected,  and  with  whom  Fearstone  was  not 
previously  acquainted.  Wynnerly  knows  rather 
more  about  racing  than  the  average  professional 
follower  of  the  sport,  and  Fearstone,  hearing  the 
little  man  say  that  he  was  going  to  Sandown 
next  day,  persuaded  Wynnerly  to  lay  him  two 
points   over  the   odds  against   the  Mermaid,   a 


A    SHAEP    SPORTSMAN.  SO 

favourite  for  a  big  steeplechase  which  Fearstone 
had  just  bought  out  of  a  fashionable  training 
stable. 

To  the  barely  suppressed  annoyance  of  the 
Mermaid's  owner  we  all  pretended  an  anxiety  to 
prevent  Wynnerly  from  making  the  bet ;  but 
Fearstone  adroitly  got  him  into  a  corner  by  him- 
self before  the  evening  was  over,  and  "per- 
suaded "  him  to  lay  the  money.  The  joke  of  the 
matter  was  that,  as  we  all  knew — with,  of  course, 
the  exception  of  our  friend  "the  sharp" — 
Wynnerly  was  the  guide,  philosopher,  and  friend 
of  the  principal  man  in  the  stable  in  question. 
The  Mermaid  had  belonged  to  him,  and  had  been 
sold  because  she  was  a  very  uncertain  mare,  and 
they  had  a  much  better  at  home.  Wynnerly's 
hesitation  was  ingeniously  assumed,  and  next  day 
he  won  the  race  for  his  friend  with  the  ease 
which  the  trial  had  foreshadowed,  the  Mermaid 
a  bad  third. 

But  perhaps  the  best  story  of  Fearstone  was 
an  instance  of  his  horse-dealing  near  home.  In 
the  village  a  couple  of  miles  from  his  house  lived 
a  blacksmith  who  did  a  little  dealing  at  times ; 
and  knowing  that  Fearstone  was  generally  ready 
to  buy,  he  rode  up  to  the  Towers  one  day  on  a 
useful  sort  of  horse,  when  he  knew  his  lordship 
was  there.     Fearstone  came  out,  stood   in  the 


90  KACECOUESE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

porch  while  the  smith  trotted  up  and  down  the 
drive,  looked  at  it  and  picked  it  to  pieces,  as 
men  occasionally  do  when  they  have  an  idea  of 
buying. 

*'  Well,  what  do  you  want  ?  "  he  presently 
asked. 

"  Well,  my  lord,  the  lowest  price  I  can  take 
is  sixty  pounds.  I  gave  fifty-five,  and  had  to  get 
him  home  by  rail ;  and  I  wouldn't  sell  at  all  but 
that  I  want  the  money  bad,"  the  man  answered. 

^'  I'll  give  you  thirty,"  was  Fearstone's  reply, 
it  being  his  custom  to  offer  half  the  sum  he  was 
asked. 

"  No,  my  lord,  I  couldn't  do  that.  I  gave 
the  money  I  say,  and  he's  cost  me  a  couple  of 
pounds  more  ;  only  I'm  hard  pressed  and  must 
get  money  from  somewhere,"  was  the  answer. 

Fearstone  liked  the  horse,  and  wanted  it,  but 
thought  he  saw  the  chance  of  making  a  good 
thing  out  of  his  neighbour's  necessity. 

"  I  don't  care  about  the  horse,  but  I  don't 
mind  making  it  guineas  ?  "  he  said. 

"  No,  my  lord ;  I  couldn't  take  a  shilling  less 
than  the  money  I  say.  I  mentioned  the  real 
lowest  price  to  begin  with." 

"  Then  you'd  better  take  it  away,"  Fearstone 
rejoined,  turning  into  the  house ;  and  as  he  did 
not  look  back,  the  man  trotted  ofi". 


A    SHAEP    SPORTSMAN.  91 

A  couple  of  days  afterwards,  word  came  up 
to  the  Towers  that  the  blacksmith  had  another 
horse,  and  he  was  bidden  to  bring  it  up  on  the 
afternoon,  which  he  did.  It  was  a  big  upstand- 
ing bay,  good-looking  all  round,  just  the  class  of 
horse  that  Fearstone  liked,  and  he  found  it  hard 
to  assume  the  requisite  expression  of  disapproval. 

"  A  bit  clumsy,  and  he's  rather  bigger  than  I 
care  about.  What  do  you  want  for  him  ?  "  Fear- 
stone  asked. 

"  Well,  my  lord,  I  needn't  tell  you  that  he's 
a  different  sort  of  horse  from  the  one  I  showed 
you  the  other  day.  However,  I've  got  to  sell 
him,  and  I'll  take  a  hundred  and  twenty  guineas," 
the  smith  replied. 

"  I'll  give  you  sixty  pounds,"  was  Fearstone 's 
answer. 

"  No,  my  lord,  I  couldn't  take  that.  Mr. 
Flutterton,  who's  staying  at  the  Hall,  would  give 
me  a  hundred,  I  believe.  I'd  keep  him  till  I 
could  get  my  price,  but  I  must  find  some  money 
at  once." 

Fearstone  got  on  his  back  and  cantered  him 
round  a  paddock  off  the  drive,  jumping  him  over 
a  practice  hurdle  that  was  up  there. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  I'll  give  you 
eighty  pounds — not  a  penny  more,"  he  said, 
as  he  pulled  up  opposite  the  seller. 


9'2  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

An  argument  followed,  and  in  the  end  the 
liorse  was  left  in  the  stable,  and  the  blacksmith 
walked  off  with  a  cheque  for  .£90  in  his  pocket. 

A  few  days  afterwards  Fearstone  rode  him 
hunting.  He  got  well  away,  crossed  a  couple  of 
fields,  delighted  with  his  bargain,  when  all  of  a 
sudden  the  horse  stopped  dead  short,  stuck  out 
his  forelegs,  hung  down  his  head,  and  looked  as  if 
he  were  going  to  die.  Fearstone  slipped  off  and 
gazed  at  his  new  purchase  with  curiosity  and 
alarm.  A  vet.  from  a  neighbouring  town  pulled 
up  also,  and  getting  out  of  his  saddle  examined 
the  horse. 

''What's  wrong  with  the  brute  ?  "  Fearstone 
asked.     "  I  never  knew  a  horse  do  that  before." 

The  vet.  pointed  to  the  flanks.  Instead  of 
the  regular  respiration  a  sort  of  double  beat  was 
perceptible. 

"  He's  got  heart  disease,  my  lord.  He 
needn't  die  of  it,  but  he'll  always  be  liable  to 
stop  like  that,"  the  expert  answered  ;  while  Fear- 
stone looked  at  the  unhappy  beast,  at  the  field 
just  disappearing  round  the  corner  of  a  distant 
covert,  and  in  all  directions  for  his  second  horse. 
This  animal  was  nowhere  to  be  seen,  and  the 
vet.  was  not  going  to  lose  his  run  for  nothing. 

''  I'm  afraid  I  can't  be  of  any  service,  my 
lord.     I'll  get  on,  I  think,"  he  remarked  ;  and  in 


A   SPARP    SPOETSMAN.  93 

a  few  seconds  was  over  the  fence  beyond,  gallop- 
ing after  the  tail  horseman. 

Fearstone  was  out  of  it  for  the  day,  and  his 
patient  recovering  a  little  after  a  time,  he  got 
on  his  back ;  and,  trembling  with  rage,  walked 
and  trotted  towards  the  deceptive  blacksmith's 
shop.  The  man  of  metal  was  working  merrily 
away  at  a  blazing  forge.  He  looked  up  quietly 
at  his  furious  customer,  who,  it  may  be  remarked, 
had  all  his  horses  shod  at  a  farm  on  the  estate. 

"  Look  here,  sir.  This  is  a  nice  sort  of  brute 
you  sold  me  for  ninety  pounds  !  What  do  you 
mean  by  letting  me  in  for  such  a  brute  ?  He's 
got  heart  disease,  stopped  dead  and  nearly  dropped 
after  going  half  a  mile  !  Ninety  pounds  !  He's 
not  worth  ninety  pence  !  "  Fearstone  cried. 

The  smith  did  not  seem  in  the  least  astonished. 

''  Very  sorry,  my  lord,  I'm  sure  ;  but  really  I 
don't  know  much  about  the  horse.  I  know  that 
tvas  a  good  one  I  offered  your  lordship  the  other 
day.  I  paid  fifty-five  golden  sovereigns  for  him, 
as  I  told  you,  but  I  guessed  there  was  something 
wrong  about  that  one,"  he  added,  with  a  nod 
towards  the  big  bay  on  which  "  the  sharp  "  sat 
at  the  door  of  the  forge.  "  I  gave  eight  pounds 
for  he  !  " 

Fearstone's  indignation  rendered  him  speech- 
less.    But  what  was  he  to  do  ?     The  man  had  in 


94  EACECOUESE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

no  way  warranted  the  brute  ;  he  had  not  recom- 
mended it.  Fearstone  had  paid  the  money 
guided  by  the  hght  of  his  own  judgment.  He 
rode  off— not  very  rapidly — vowing  vengeance  ; 
but  there  was  no  way  in  which  that  vengeance 
could  be  satisfied. 

The  smith,  with  a  twinkle  in  the  corner  of  his 
eye,  told  Flutterton  the  story,  and  so  it  got  up 
to  town. 

Thus  it  appears  that  sharps  may  occasionally 
w^ound  themselves. 


KOUGH  SHOOTING. 

Without  for  a  moment  decrying  the  sport 
peculiar  to  August,  September,  and  October,  the 
pursuit  of  grouse,  partridge,  and  pheasant,  it 
may  be  claimed  that  a  day's  rough  shooting  has 
charms  of  its  own.  It  usually  comes  after 
Christmas,  when  the  close  season  is  approach- 
ing, and  it  behoves  a  man  to  make  the  most  of 
the  time  left  him ;  and,  what  is  perhaps  more  to 
the  point,  success  specially  depends  upon  a 
man's  knowledge  of  woodcraft.  If  he  be  shoot- 
ing partridges,  he  knows  pretty  well  where  the 
birds  lie,  even  if  he  has  no  dogs  to  aid  him ; 
they  are  marked  down,  and  the  sportsman  has 
his  chance  at  them.  In  covert  shooting,  again, 
he  goes  where  he  is  told  to  go ;  it  is  the  duty 
of  the  keeper  to  so  organize  matters  that — if  he 
only  aim  straight — he  must  contribute  hand- 
somely to  the  result  set  down  in  the  game-book. 
But  in  rough  shooting — it  always  being  under- 
stood that  the  men  know  and  can  trust  each 
other  not  to  do  anything  rash  in  the  way  of 


96  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

firing  into  a  possible  companion — there  is  more 
independence.  Each  man  figlits  more  for  his  own 
hand,  and  his  knowledge  of  the  haunts  and  habits 
of  birds  and  beasts  is  turned  to  good  account. 

Rough  shooting  for  the  most  part  resolves 
itself  into  rabbits.  They  probably  constitute 
three-fourths  of  the  bag  in  districts  where  they 
are  plentiful ;  and  the  rabbit  certainly  is  not 
game  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word.  A  brace 
of  pheasants  is  an  acceptable  offering,  but  a 
couple  of  rabbits  by  themselves  are  regarded  as 
a  poor  sort  of  gift ;  yet  to  the  sportsman  the 
bowling  over  of  the  bunny,  as  he  flashes  across 
the  ride  of  the  covert,  is  as  satisfactory  an 
achievement  as  the  bringing  down  of  the  big 
cock  pheasant  which  goes  clattering  overhead; 
though  when  the  two  lie  side  by  side  on  the 
ground,  the  brilliant  hues  of  the  handsome  bird 
make  the  soft  ball  of  brown  fur  look  insignificant 
by  comparison.  But  in  a  day's  rough  shooting 
all  is  fish  that  comes  to  the  net.  It  may  be 
generally  said,  indeed,  that  it  is  the  best  day 
when  there  is  most  variety  in  the  cart  as  evening 
closes  and  the  last  shot  has  been  fired,  particularly 
if  a  woodcock  or  two — for  he,  somehow  or  other, 
is  usually  accepted  as  the  most  sporting  of  birds 
— be  among  the  slain. 

The  cock  is  the  scarcest   of  game  birds  in 


EOUGH   SHOOTING.  97 

most  parts  of  the  kingdom.  He  stays  with  us 
a  much  shorter  time  than  the  rest,  being  rarely 
found  till  the  end  of  October;  and  he  is  valued 
accordingly. 

The  keeper,  some  three  or  four  beaters,  and 
a  couple  of  boys,  are  waiting  for  us  at  the  cross- 
roads, attended  by  a  regular  pack  of  more  or 
less  nondescript  dogs,  some  of  which  come  well 
under  the  definition  of  mongrel.  There  is  some- 
thing moving  close  to  the  opposite  hedge  the 
other  side  of  the  field  of  turnips  before  us. 
Pigeons,  we  make  them  out  to  be,  and  slip  over 
the  gate  and  down  along  the  fence,  to  get 
behind  them. 

There  they  are — there  must  be  thirty  of 
them  at  least — and  we  are  creeping  on  cautiously, 
fearing  lest  they  should  take  alarm,  when,  in 
the  ploughed  land  about  thirty  yards  to  our  right, 
up  jump  a  covey  of  partridges  just  when  and 
where  they  were  least  expected.  Such  a  mis- 
fortune— from  a  shooter's  point  of  view — happens 
with  disagreeable  frequency.  If  a  man  has  his 
gun  open,  his  flask  out  (though  the  use  of  flasks 
is  to  be  deprecated  when  there  is  walking  to  be 
done),  when  he  is  arranging  his  boot-lace,  or 
otherwise  occupied,  up  the  birds  usually  jump, 
he  having  been  strictly  on  the  qui  vive  for  the 
last  two  hours. 

7 


98  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

We  are  in  time,  however,  to  get  a  brace,  for 
the  last  bird  in  the  covey  falls  to  our  friend's 
barrel,  and  a  single  bird  gets  up  afterwards  and 
offers  a  fair  chance,  though  the  reports  frighten 
the  pigeons,  which  are  over  the  spinney  and  out 
of  sight  in  a  very  few  seconds.  So  over  a  fence 
and  into  a  covert  carpeted  with  dead  leaves,  the 
green  rushes  standing  out  in  striking  contrast  to 
the  brown  patches  of  dried  fern  ;  and  just  as  we 
enter  a  rustle,  followed  by  a  flapping  of  wings,  is 
heard,  and  a  pheasant  flies  up.  Up,  also,  goea 
the  gun,  instinctively  ;  but  the  bird  is  a  hen, 
and  is  allowed  to  escape  unmolested.  From  the 
leisurely  way  in  which  she  flies  it  seems  as  if 
she  knew  that  she  was  safe,  her  pace  differing 
widely  from  the  wild  dash  of  the  rocketer  coming 
down  wind  an  incalculable  number  of  miles  an 
hour.  It  is  only  men  who  draw  upon  their 
imaginatioQ  instead  of  their  experience  who 
believe  that  all  pheasants  are  about  as  tame  as 
barn-door  fowls,  and  that  when  the  birds  are 
thoroughly  frightened  by  the  invasion  of  an 
army  of  beaters  they  are  easy  to  kill.  Those 
who  have  tried  to  catch  them  as  they  whirl  over 
the  top  of  a  ride,  across  the  narrow  strip  of 
sky-line  left  on  either  hand  by  straight  growing 
trees,  know  better.  The  wood  we  have  reached 
must  be  still  fairly  well  stocked,  but  it  is  not 


KOUGH    SHOOTING.  99 

our  intention  to  shoot  many  more,  so  we  have 
placed  no  stops  at  the  end  of  the  covert,  and 
the  consequence  is  that  most  of  the  birds  run 
through  the  undergrowth,  refusing  altogether 
to  rise. 

We  get  a  majestic  old  bird,  however,  which 
rises  with  a  loud  cry  of  indignation  and  fright, 
and  then  a  cry  of  "Hare  forward,"  followed 
quickly  by  "  Eabbit  to  the  right — two  of  them  !  " 
directs  attention  to  the  groimd.  The  bushes 
seem  to  move,  but  we  can  make  out  nothing, 
and  are  just  in  the  act  of  jumping  a  small  ditch 
when,  as  ill  luck  will  have  it,  up  springs  a 
woodcock,  and  goes  bobbing  along  straight  down 
the  ride  in  front.  The  effort  to  get  our  gun  up 
causes  us  to  slip  on  the  miry,  holding  ground, 
and  the  further  effort  to  recover  our  balance 
completes  the  misfortune.  We  come  down 
sitting  in  the  morass,  while  the  cock  gently 
pursues  his  journey.  The  incident,  ludicrous 
enough  to  recall,  is  extremely  annoying  to  ex- 
perience, for  the  cock  presented  an  exceptionally 
easy  shot,  and  another  pheasant  is  but  slight 
consolation. 

We  are  now  at  some  patches  of  furze,  how- 
ever, which  are  certain  to  hold  rabbits,  and  the 
dogs  dart  eagerly  in,  the  beaters  doing  their 
share  energetically.     "There's  one,  sir!     There 


100  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

he  is,  just  near  your  corner ! "  shouts  the  keeper. 
But  bunny  dechnes  to  come  out  till  the  place  is 
too  hot  to  hold  him,  and  then  darts  across  the 
road  and  through  the  fence  into  the  wood  in 
front.  One  must  be  extraordinarily  quick  to  play 
this  game  with  success,  yet  above  all  things  it  is 
necessary  to  take  one's  time,  or  rather  to  avoid 
flurry  and  excitement.  The  rabbit  speeds  along 
where  the  undergrowth  is  thin,  and  the  first 
barrel  rolls  him  over.  Bang !  bang !  go  the 
other  guns  ;  and  when  the  patch  of  gorse  has 
been  traversed  each  beater  and  boy  has  a  couple 
or  so  of  rabbits  to  carry,  and  journeys  to  the  cart 
which  follows  us  become  frequent,  the  dogs 
assisting  by  catching  a  few  rabbits  themselves. 

The  scene  is  repeated  in  the  wood  beyond, 
and  before  long  the  intelligence  of  the  dogs  is 
curiously  shown.  One  of  our  party  is  given  to 
looking  for  hypothetical  rabbits  and  calling  the 
dogs  to  help  him.  Several  times  they  attend 
the  summons,  search  the  place  he  indicates,  and 
find  nothing,  the  consequence  being  that  after 
a  while  they  refuse  to  take  any  notice  of  his 
requests  for  assistance,  while  running  eagerly  to 
the  halloa  of  another  gun,  who  they  have  already 
learnt  will  not  call  them  for  nothing.  The 
fusillade  is  now  brisk,  the  rabbits  are  constantly 
darting  across  the  ride,  a  hare  occasionally  lobs 


EOUGH    SHOOTING.  101 

along,  and  a  cry  of  "  Mark,  cock  !  "  followed  by 
a  report  and  a  shout  of  triiimpli,  tell  the  down- 
fall of  the  long-hilled  migrant.  A  distant 
member  of  his  family  joins  him  in  the  keeper's 
pocket  as  we  cross  some  marshy  land  beyond. 

There  is  nearly  always  a  snipe  in  a  certain 
patch  of  rushes,  we  are  told;  several  have  been 
killed  from  it,  but  another  bird  always  takes  the 
place.  And  surely  enough  he  gets  up  just  on  the 
spot  indicated,  and  meets  a  fate  which  another 
of  his  tribe  escapes,  his  sinuous  flight  saving 
him.  Cries  of  "Ware  hen!"  "Rabbit  gone 
in!"  "Another  hare  somewhere  near  about 
here,  sir  !  "  now  come  in  chorus,  punctuated  by 
the  banging  of  guns. 

Partridges  we  see,  always,  however,  in  the 
distance,  they  taking  care  to  keep  a  good 
hundred  yards  between  us.  Not  another  is 
secured  the  whole  day,  though  the  square  frame- 
work inside  the  cart  is  being  covered  with  a 
goodly  number  of  rabbits,  their  bigger  and 
richer-coloured  cousins,  the  hares,  adding  variety, 
while  one  side  of  the  square  formed  by  the  game, 
as  it  is  hung  in  the  cart,  consists  entirely  of 
pheasants.  On  om-  way  home  we  pick  up 
another  snipe,  which  rises  almost  under  our  feet. 

So   ends   a    fair   specimen   of  a   day's   rough 
shooting. 


UPSET. 

A   STEEPLECHASE   STOBY. 
CHAPTEE  I. 

THE     NOMINATION. 

A  GAEDEN-PARTY  is  perhaps  more  than  any  other 
sort  of  party  dependent  on  the  guests.  At 
dinner,  for  instance,  the  presence  of  a  dull 
neighbour  may  be  mitigated  by  the  menu,  and  a 
happy  combination  of  good  wine  and  well-dressed 
food  soothes  the  irritation  caused  by  the  man 
who  talks  too  much  or  the  lady  who  talks  too 
little.  In  a  party  made  up  for  the  purpose 
of  going  to  the  races  a  guest  may  occupy  himself 
in  losing  his  money  and  explaining  how  the 
failure  is  entirely  attributable,  not  to  his  judg- 
ment, but  to  the  horse,  that  did  not  win  when  it 
clearly  ought  to  have  done  so.  At  a  whist-party, 
again,  a  man  has  cards  for  amusement,  besides 
the  satisfaction  of  reflecting  that  he  is  not  such  a 
wretched  bad  player  as  his  partner.    Indeed,  most 


UPSET.  103 

parties  have  a  definitive  and  proclaimed  object  ; 
but  a  garden-party  means  simply  much  talk  and 
a  little  tennis,  and  if  one  does  not  find  the 
persons  with  whom  one  wants  to  talk,  the  result 
is  a  depression  not  to  be  relieved  by  casual  claret- 
cup  and  impervious  to  sherry  and  cunningly- 
contrived  sandwiches. 

Every  one  who  drove  up  to  Selstead  Towers, 
however,  on  a  certain  day  at  the  beginning  of 
September,  felt  that  the  visit  would  not  be  an 
infliction.  For  the  most  part  the  right  people 
were  sure  to  be  there  ;  they  were  likewise  sure 
to  say  the  right  thiug ;  and  such  little  leaven  of 
the  wrong  people  as  might  have  crept  in  would 
not  be  strong  enough  to  do  mischief.  Sir  Henry 
Selstead's  return  home  was,  in  the  first  place,  a 
matter  for  rejoicing,  for  no  one  in  Wessex  kept 
things  going  with  greater  spirit.  There  was  no 
more  pleasant  house  in  the  county ;  and  on  this 
occasion  the  sun  had  for  once  determined  to 
shine.  '*  Dancing  if  wet  "  had  been  written  in 
the  corner  of  the  At  Home  cards,  and  to  the 
music  of  the  band  of  the  Royal  Wessex  Militia 
a  dance  had  actually  been  performed  with  cheer- 
fulness in  the  cleared  dining-room  during  a 
heavy  shower.  Now  the  clouds  had  broken,  the 
sun  streamed  out,  and  amid  much  shaking  of 
hands,  "  So  glad  you've  come,"  "  I  expected  to 


104  RACECOUESE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

see  you,"  "  I  could  not  think  where  you  had  got 
to,"  "Here  you  are  at  last !  "  and  other  familiar 
sentences,  everybody  who  was  anybody  in  that 
division  of  the  county  thronged  the  rooms  and 
terraces  and  exchanged  greetings.  Cards  had 
been  sent  as  a  matter  of  course  to  the  officers  of 
the  regiment  quartered  at  Coltsford,  the  152nd 
Lancers,  and  a  couple  of  those  who  had  accepted, 
Crossley  and  Banks,  were  patrolling  a  side  path, 
away  from  the  throng  of  guests,  in  earnest 
conversation. 

"  Are  you  sure  it's  all  right  ?  "  Crossley  asks. 

"  Perfectly.  The  Wessex  Hunt  Eace  Meet- 
ing will  take  place  on  the  28th  of  October,  and 
Sir  Henry  has  undertaken  to  see  that  a  cup  is 
offered  for  the  regiment.  Added  to  a  sweep- 
stakes of  50  sovs.  each,  eh  ?  That'll  about  suit? 
Shall  I  propose  that  ?  "  Banks  asks. 

"  No.  Fifty's  too  much.  You'll  spoil  it  all 
if  you  are  so  keen  about  it,"  Crossley  answers. 

"  You're  so  indifferent  to  making  money 
yourself,  aren't  you?  "  Banks  asks,  with  a  sneer. 

"  No,  I'm  not ;  but  I  don't  rush  a  good  thing 
and  make  a  mess  of  it ;  and  it  will  be  just  as  well 
if  we  drop  recrimination  until  the  thing's  safely 
over.     I  suppose  the  horse  is  good  enough  ?  " 

"  You  know  what  he  did  at  Baldoyle,  and  you 
heard  what  Sir  Thomas  said  about  it.     Besides, 


UPSET.  105 

what  is  there  in  the  regiment  to  beat?  "  Banks 
replies. 

"  That's  just  the  deuce  of  it — how  to  frame 
the  conditions  so  that  Lorrimer  or  some  of  the 
fellows  doesn't  borrow  a  brute  for  the  occasion. 
It  requires  to  be  thought  about." 

"  Then  let's  thiuk,  for  it's  worth  it,"  is  the 
answer;  and  the  pair  continue  to  pace  the  walk 
till  presently  joined  by  Sir  Thomas  Aston,  who 
shares  the  deliberation. 

Sir  Thomas  is  a  man  typical  of  a  class  that 
seems  to  be  little  understood.  A  stout,  robust, 
round-faced,  genial-looking  personage,  with  a 
hearty  laugh  and  full-toned  voice.  Not  knowing 
him  you  would  think  he  must  be  a  capital  good 
fellow,  a  downright,  straightforward,  thorough 
Englishman.  He  is  a  rich  man,  holds  a  good 
position  in  his  county^  has  been  in  the  House. 
On  further  acquaintance  you  would  discover, 
probably  to  your  cost,  that  he  was  as  sharp  as  a 
needle,  utterly  unscrupulous,  loving  trickery,  and 
something  approaching  very  nearly  to  what 
plain-spoken  people  call  fraud,  for  the  mere  sake 
of  getting  the  best  of  those  with  whom  he  was 
brought  in  contact.  Sir  Thomas's  chief  occupa- 
tion was  the  turf,  and  if  he  could  win  a  race  and 
put  some  of  his  friends  in  a  hole  at  the  same 
time  he  was  perfectly  happy. 


lOG  EACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

At  tlie  mess  dinner  at  Coltsford  Sir  Thomas 
appeared  that  evening  as  the  guest  of  Crossley, 
and  at  the  moment  when  at  least  a  couple  of 
those  at  table  were  wondering  how  to  introduce 
the  subject  best,  trouble  was  saved  them  by  a 
sudden  utterance  of  young  Purleigh. 

"  Do  you  know  whether  it's  true,  Sii"  Thomas, 
that  they're  going  to  give  us  a  cup  to  run  for?  " 
he  asked,  as  the  table  was  cleared  and  the  claret 
began  to  circulate. 

Crossley  and  Banks  slightly  glanced  at  each 
other,  as  Sir  Thomas  replied,  "  Quite  true.  The 
Hunt  are  going  to  offer  a  cup  value  sixty  guineas 
for  a  steeplechase  for  horses  belonging  to  the 
regiment." 

•'  The  worst  of  it  is  Eisenham,  or  some  of 
you  rich  fellows,  will  be  buying  up  Grand 
National  winners,  and  won't  give  us  a  chance," 
Purleigh  complained. 

''  The  meaning  of  the  thing  is  lost,  then," 
Banks  answered.  "  I  should  be  incHned  to 
propose  that  the  race  be  confined  to  chargers 
that  were  in  the  stables  at  twelve  o'clock  this 
morning,  before  we  knew  anything  about  it." 

''  That's  it.  Banks  ;  and  the  sooner  the  entries 
are  made  the  better.  Let's  see  where  we  are, 
Raughton.  Have  you  a  pencil  and  paper?" 
the  Colonel  said. 


UPSET.  107 

"  Yes.  Here  we  are,"  Eaughton  replied. 
**  Regimental  Cup,  value  sixty  guineas,  added  to 

a   sweepstakes Shall   we   have    a   sweep  ? 

Ten  each  ?     Twenty  each  ?     A  pony  ?  " 

"Ten's  enough,  I  should  think,"  Crossley 
observed,  with  much  sedateness. 

"  No  ;  why  not  a  pony  ?  It's  sure  to  be  an 
open  race,"  Purleigh  suggested. 

"  You  know  you're  going  to  cut  us  all  down 
and  sail  in  by  yourself,  Purl.  However,  let's  say 
twenty  pounds,"  Eaughton  answered.  "  Well, 
what  do  you  say,  Chief  ?     Bay  Bessie  ?  " 

"  Yes.  She's  my  only  hope,"  the  Colonel 
replied. 

"  She's  done  it  before,  and  may  again," 
Eaughton  said,  heading  the  list  with  "  Colonel 
"VVrayliete's  Bay  i3essie.  Usual  weights,  I 
suppose — 6  years,  12st.  71b.  ?  Cunninghame, 
what  have  you  ? — Equinox  ?  Equinox,  5  years, 
12st.  51bs.  I'll  put  down  Chatelaine  for  myself, 
though  she  can't  have  a  ghost  of  a  chance." 

One  or  two  refusals  to  enter  followed  from 
men  who  declared  they  had  nothing  that  could 
raise  a  gallop,  and  presently  Crossley  was 
reached. 

*'  What  do  you  say,  Crossley  ? "  Eaughton 
asked. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  must  pass  me  over,  too,"  was 


108  EACECOUESE    AND   COVERT    SIDE. 

the  answer.  ''  I  should  like  to  have  a  cut  in 
very  much,  but  my  beasts  can  hardly  do  their 
work,  let  alone  chasing." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  fellow,  you  must  name  some- 
thing. Look  here,  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do ; — 
I'll  lend  you  that  Irishman  I  bought  the  other 
day.  I  was  going  to  enter  it  myself,  but 
Sabretache  will  do  equally  weU  for  me.  Put 
down  for  Crossley,  bay  horse,  Eed  Eover, 
5  years.  Is  that  all  right?"  Banks  breaks  in 
with  much  apparent  innocence. 

"  Was  he  in  the  stable  at  twelve  o'clock  this 
morning?"  Eaughton  asked. 

"Yes,  he's  been  there  for  the  last  week, 
though  I've  never  given  him  a  turn  and  don't 
know  what  he  can  do,"  Banks  responded. 

Crossley' s  protests  that  this  would  be  destroy- 
ing Banks's  chance,  as  the  new  horse  might  turn 
out  well,  were  met  by  insistance  on  the  part  of 
the  owner  of  the  Eed  Eover,  and  finally  the 
Irishman  was  set  down  for  Crossley.  Purleigh 
entered  Playfellow,  a  big  upstanding  grey,  on 
which  his  master,  as  by  courtesy  he  was  called, 
spent  a  good  many  uncomfortable  hours.  Lor- 
rimer  named  one  of  a  dangerous  stud,  St. 
Patrick.  A  couple  of  fairly  good  hunters, 
Witchcraft  and  Post  Horn,  swelled  the  list. 

"Heath,  anything  for  you?"  Eaughton  in- 


UPSET.  100 

quired  of  a  yoimg  fellow,  a  light  weight  with  a 
figure  that  seemed  to  suggest  the  saddle. 

''No.  I  suppose  the  Chief  will  give  me  the 
mount  on  Bay  Bessie  ?  "  Heath  replied. 

"  And  who  are  you  going  to  tell  off  to 
help  you  up  this  time  ?  "  Eaughton  inquired, 
with  a  merrily  mischievous  twinkle  in  his 
eyes. 

"Don't  you  chaff!  "  Heath  answered  good- 
naturedly  ;  and  seeing  that  something  was  meant, 
Cunninghame  inquired  what  it  was. 

"It's  an  old  story  of  Heath  in  the  early  days 
of  his  martial  career,"  Eaughton  replied,  smiling 
at  the  hero  of  the  anecdote,  who  was  occupied 
in  peeling  a  walnut.  "  Heath  was  younger  but 
not  taller,  and  his  chargers  were  among  the 
tallest  animals  in  the  European  cavalry.  One 
day  the  Duke  went  to  Aldershot  to  review  the 
regiment  of  which  our  friend  was  an  ornament. 
He  gave  the  word  to  dismount,  and  the  men 
were  out  of  their  saddles  like  eels." 

"I  never  saw  an  eel  get  out  of  a  saddle," 
Heath  parenthetically  observed ;  but  Eaughton 
took  no  notice,  and  continued. 

"  At  least  they  all  were  except  Heath,  who, 
with  prudent  forethought,  reflected  that  if  he 
got  down  he  would  only  have  to  get  up  again ; 
and   so,   being   an   extremely  artful   youth,   he 


110  RACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

simply  slipped  over  a  little  sideways  and  en- 
deavoured to  secrete  himself  behind  the  pommel. 
When  the  word  '  Mount '  was  given,  the  accom- 
plished young  officer  was  mounted  with  astound- 
ing celerity,  for  obvious  reasons,  and  the  Duke 
was  delighted  ; — wasn't  he.  Heath  ?  He  said  he 
had  never  seen  the  movement  better  executed ; 
and  galloping  past  -the  troops,  he  took  up  his 
:"taticn  jusi^  by  Heath's  side,  and  said,  'Excellent! 
We'll  have  it  again,  men ! '  The  word  was 
given,  the  saddles  were  emptied — poor  Heath's, 
too,  this  time, — and  then,  when  they  ought  to 
have  been  filled  again  on  the  word  to  mount, 
one  remained  vacant,  aud  one  officer  was  making 
hopeless  endeavours  to  get  his  foot  into  a  stirrup 
about  on  a  level  with  his  chin.  In  the  end  a 
trooper  was  told  off  to  give  the  future  Field 
Marshal  a  leg  up  !  " 

A  laugh  followed,  and  the  walnut-shell  which 
Heath  had  just  emptied  whizzed  across  the  table 
towards  the  story-teller,  who  dodged  the  missile 
and  resumed  the  work  in  hand. 

''Napoleon  for  you,  Herries  ? "  Eaughton 
asked,  speaking  to  a  young  fellow  at  the  end  of 
the  table,  who  was  sitting  wdth  an  expression 
of  dreamy  abstraction  on  his  pleasant  face — a 
face  which,  if  not  emphatically  handsome,  was 
eminently  that  of  a  gentleman.     "It  isn't  a  fat 


UPSET.  Ill 

cattle  show,  or  else  Napoleon  would  have  a  first- 
rate  chance,"  Purleigh  chimed  in. 

"  Then  I  won't  enter  him,  Purleigh,"  Herries 
replied,  smilingly.  "  I  have  another,  one  of 
those  my  poor  brother  left  me ;  but  I  know 
nothing  about  it,  and  am  not  even  sure  that  it 
was  here  in  time  to  be  nominated." 

'*  A  bay  mare,  is  it,  with  black  points  ?  She 
came  in  when  I  was  in  the  stables  this  morning, 
about  half-past  ten,  and  looked  very  much  like 
going,"  Eaughton  replied. 

''  And  your  brother  was  one  of  the  best 
judges  of  a  horse  I  ever  met,"  the  Colonel  said, 
*'  She  should  be  a  good  one  if  he  chose  her." 

"  What's  her  name  ?  "  Eaughton  asked,  with 
pencil  ready. 

"  She's  five  years  old,  and  I  knov/  nothing 
more  of  her,"  Herries  replied.  "  She  must  bo 
christened."  He  reflected  a  moment,  and  then 
said,  a  flush  suffusing  his  face,  "  Put  her  down 
'  Heartsease.'  " 


112  EACECOURSE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

CHAPTER  II. 

TWO    TRIALS. 

The  sun,  just  rising  on  a  certain  morning  in 
mid- October,  displayed  a  picturesque  autumn 
landscape,  enlivened  by  two  figures.  A  young 
man  of  some  two  and  tbirty  leaned  on  a  gate, 
holding  the  hand  of  a  charming  girl  some  ten 
years  his  junior.  She  was  evidently  prepared 
for  the  chill  of  the  early  morning,  for  thick 
boots  made  her  little  feet  appear  all  the  more 
delicate,  and,  in  addition  to  a  neatly-fitting  coat, 
a  thick  scarf  was  arranged  round  her  neck.  Her 
companion  was  clad  simply  in  a  tweed  coat, 
breeches,  and  butcher  boots,  to  which  latter  a 
pair  of  spurs  were  fixed,  and  in  his  hand  he  held 
a  cutting  whip.  It  was  indeed  Clive  Herries 
and  Mabel  Roydon.     She  is  the  first  to  speak. 

"  It  seems  dreadful  to  come  out  here  by 
myself  at  this  time,  but  if  the  race  means  all 
you  think,  I  know  I  could  not  have  contained 
myself  indoors,  and  so  I  have  slipped  out  as  you 
said." 

"  You  are  a  darling  to  come ;  but  then  you 
are  a  darling  always.  I  was  half  afraid,  as  I 
rode  along,  that  you  would  miss  the  place  ;  and 


UPSET.  113 

it  was  all  the  more  delightful  to  see  you.     How 
is  my  estimable  aunt  ?  ' ' 

"  Don't  speak  in  such  a  bitter  tone  of  her, 
dear.  She  is  doing  what  she  thinks  best," 
Mabel  answered. 

"Yes!  But  to  keep  you  away  from  me, 
whom  you  love,  and  who  love  you  with  all  my 
soul,  and  try  to  force  you  upon  a  mean-spirited 
wretch  old  enough  to  be  your  father.  Bad  is 
the  best  if  that  is  it,"  Clive  replied  savagely. 

''  But  you  know  you  have  been  wild  and 
extravagant,  and  she  does  not  believe  in  the 
change  as  I  do.  Yes,  dear,  I  never  doubt  you 
for  a  moment.  She  does  not  intend  to  be  severe 
or  unkind  to  me,  I  am  sure." 

"  Only  she  is  without  intending  it,  if  that 
mends  matters.  Yes,  extravagance  has  been 
my  bane  ;  if  I  had  now  half  the  money  that  I 
have  wasted  these  last  five  years,  I  could  take 
advantage  of  the  chance  and  buy  my  step.  As 
it  is,  the  glorious  chance  must  go,  and  I  must 
wait  in  miserable  suspense  while  you  are  per- 
secuted !  " 

"Let  us  look  on  the  brighter  side!  If  you 
do  win  the  race,  you  say  it  will  give  you  money 
enough,  don't  you  ?  Yet  I  dislike  the  idea  of 
money  gained  in  such  a  way,"  Mabel  answered, 
looking  up  into  his  face. 

8 


114  EACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

'^  So  do  T,  darling  ;  but,  after  all,  it's  fair  and 
honest,  and,  besides,  it  is  only  getting  my  own 
back  again — if  it  comes  back  !     Three  thousand 
pounds  would   be    salvation,   and   I    do   believe 
there  is  a  hope,  though  I  almost  fear  to  think 
of  it ;   for  I  should  get  my  step,  and  then  I  may 
claim  you  !     But,  see,  there  are  the  horses  by 
the  three  poplars  over  there.      You  have  your 
glasses?     That's    right.     I    arranged   this   trial 
ground  so  that  you  could  see  if  you  could  get 
away.     We  start  from  where  they  are  now — can 
you  make  them  out  ?     Over  there,  this  side  of 
that  red-tiled  farm  on  the  hill,  across  those  two 
grass  fields  and  the  plough,  over  the  road,  across 
a  corner  of  the  park,  and  so  on  down  the  hill 
close  past  you  here,  over  the  road  again,  then 
you  will  lose  sight  of  us  for  just  a  moment,  then 
round  the  clump  of  trees,  and  our  winning-post 
is  the  ash  in  the  middle  of  the  grassland  there. 
I  must  go,  and  dare  not  beg  you  to  stop  when 
it  is  over ;   so  good-bye,  darling ;  "  and  after  a 
tender  farewell  and  many  murmured  hopes  for 
success,  Herries  unfastened  from  the  gate-post 
the  reins  of  his  hack  and  cantered  down  a  green 
lane  that  led  to  the  spot  where  two  horses  were 
being  led  about,  and  a  third  figure,  mounted,  sat 
motionless  and  expectant. 

Mabel  raised  her  field-glass  and  watched  what 


UPSET.  115 

took  place.  Her  lover  slipped  off  his  hack,  and 
after  looking  carefully  over  one  of  the  animals, 
a  superb  bay  mare,  was  soon  seated  in  the  saddle, 
A  little  man,  of  an  aspect  it  seemed  impossible 
to  disconnect  from  the  idea  of  horses,  was  put 
up  on  to  the  other  vacant  saddle,  and  the  two 
took  up  their  station  side  by  side.  Meantime 
the  third  figure  had  drawn  a  handkerchief  from 
his  pocket  and  held  the  white  signal  fluttering 
in  the  air.  Mabel  understood  the  significance 
of  the  position ;  her  heart  beat  fast  as  she 
noted  the  handkerchief  flash  downwards,  and  at 
the  same  nioment  the  two  horses  bound  forward 
and  sweep  over  the  pasture. 

There  can  be  no  sort  of  question  as  to  which 
is  the  handsomer  of  the  two  horses.  The  brown, 
a  fairish  sort  of  brute  to  look  at,  appears  veritably 
mean  by  the  side  of  the  bay  mare,  and  surely, 
Mabel  thinks,  no  one  could  possibly  find  a  fault 
in  the  rider !  They  near  the  first  fence,  a  broad 
Wessex  ditch,  and  fly  it  together,  though  Mabel 
fancies — and  subsequent  leaps  strengthen  the 
notion — that  the  brown  is  a  little  the  quicker  at 
his  jumps,  and  seems  to  get  away  on  the  other 
side  a  thought  more  speedily  than  does  the 
mare.  Past  the  farm  and  across  the  grass  the 
two  continue  their  way,  Herries  leading  well 
over  the  banked  hedge  into  the  plough,  and  he, 


116  EACE COURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE, 

too,  jumps  in  and  out  of  the  lane  with  what  at 
a  distance  of  nearly  half  a  mile  looks  ridiculous 
ease ;  but  the  brown  is  on  her  track.     Into  the 
park,  across  the  corner,   and  so  down  the  hill 
towards  the  gate  where  she  is  standing,  the  two 
come  thundering,  and  as  they  approach,  Mabel 
puts  aside  her  glasses  and  trusts  to  her  eyes  alone. 
Here  they  come,   Clive  with  his  teeth  set  and 
a  look  of  stern  determination  on  his  face  as  they 
near  the  strongly  made-up  fence  close  to  her, 
and  half  through,  half  over,  this  they  swish  still 
side  by  side,  though  the  brown  is  certainly  the 
quicker  away.     Now  they  are  receding,  and  the 
glass   is   brought   into   use   again.     They  have 
rounded  the  furthest  point,  and  still  side  by  side, 
though  at  increasing  speed,  they  gallop  out  of 
sight,  a   rise  in  the  ground   hiding  them  from 
view  ;  but  when  they  reaj^pear  Clive  is  a  good 
length  in  front,  and  the  mare  seems  to  be  going 
well  within  herself.     She  is  first  at  the  post  and 
rails  into  the  winning-field,  and  on  she  comes  at 
terrific  speed  ;  but  as  she  lands  the  brown  lands 
too,    and   the   winning-post   is    only   some    two 
hundred  yards    in  front.     Clive  sits  down    and 
presently  lifts  his  whip  ;   the  rider  of  the  brown 
likewise   gives  his   horse   one   stroke,   when   it 
shoots  forward  to  Clive's  side,  passes  him,  and 
is  a  good  length  in  advance  of  the  gallant  bay  as 
the  ash-tree  is  reached. 


UPSET.  117 

Mabel  cau  scarcely  believe  it.  Victory 
seemed  assured  for  her  hero,  and  yet  the  race 
was  over  and  she  had  seen  how  it  ended.  Clive 
had  told  her  that  the  mare,  one  of  those  his  dead 
brother  had  left  him,  had  proved  to  be  surpris- 
ingly good,  able  to  gallop  fast  and  long,  and  a, 
wonderful  jumper.  She  had  appeared  to  do. 
both  ;  but  the  common-looking  little  brown  was 
clearly  her  superior.  The  giii's  heart  was  sad  as 
she  hurried  back  across  the  park  to  the  large, 
house  that  stood  hidden  by  the  trees  near  to 
which,  that  she  might  see,  the  trial  ground  had 
been  chosen. 

But  it  was  with  very  different  feelings 
that  another  spectator  of  the  trial  slipped  from 
the  hiding-place  in  the  clump  of  trees  near  the 
finish  and  made  his,  way  down  a  narrow  lane, 
at  the  bottom  of  which  a  country  boy  was  hold-, 
ing  a  light  dog-cart.  Into  this  the  stranger 
stepped,  and  started  off  at  a  pace  which  promised 
to  complete  the  journey  to  Coltsfoxd,  some  twelve, 
miles  distance,  well  under  the  hour.  Within, 
that  time  the  cart  was  stopped  at  the  stables 
belonging  to  the  cavalry  barracks,,  and  the  driver 
handing  over  his  horse  to  a  servant,  bounded 
lightly  upstairs  to  a  room  furnished  in  military 
fashion,  where  Crossley  and  Sir  Thomas  Aston 
were  seated  smoking  cigarettes  and  varying  the 


118  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

performance  by  draughts  from  tall  tumblers  of 
brandy  and  soda. 

*'  I  thought  so  !  Here  is  our  amateur  tout ! 
Well,  what's  the  news  ?  "  Sir  Thomas  inquired. 

"  They  ran  the  trial  just  as  Stipling  told  us, 
and  Herries  was  beaten  easily.  There  was  no 
doubt  about  it,"  Banks — for  it  was  he — replied. 

"  You  don't  know  where  the  other  beast  came 
from  ?  What  was  he  like  ?  I  suppose  Herries 
can  ride  a  bit  ?  "  Sir  Thomas  inquired. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  he  rides  well  enough,  for  a  raw 
amateur,  but  Crossley  can  give  him  a  good  ten 
pounds,  I  have  no  doubt.  I  don't  know  what 
the  trial  horse  was— rather  undersized,  a  fair  sort 
of  galloper,  and  a  very  neat  jumper,  but  no  kind 
of  class,"  Banks  answered, 

"  And  our  friend  had  all  the  worst  of  it  ?  " 
Crossley  asked. 

"Done  all  round — hadn't  a  chance,"  Banks 
responded.  "  I  expected  that  he  would  have 
made  a  better  business  of  it,  for  Nipper  Herries, 
who  left  him  the  horse,  was  wonderfully  keen  and 
cunning ;  but  it  is  as  I  tell  you,  and  I  might 
have  saved  myself  the  journey." 

"  Better  to  make  sure,"  Crossley  said,  "  and 
T  think  it  is  pretty  sure  now  ?  "  he  continued  to 
Sir  Thomas. 

"For  once  I  really  fancy  it  is  !  "  Sir  Thomas 


UPSET.  119 

answered,  in  his  hearty,  genial  way.  *'  We  shall 
have  to  hail  you  speedily  as  Captain  Crossley,  I 
suppose  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  shall  go  for  the  gloves,  and  if 
Herries  cannot  purchase — and  I  know  he  is  as 
near  broke  as  he  can  be — I  shall  buy  the  vacant 
company.  By  the  way,  they  say  they  are  going 
to  do  away  with  purchase.  Queer  notion,  is  it 
not  ?  " 

'^ Can't  be  true/'  Banks  rejoined.  "You 
know  what  makes  Herries  so  keen — and  he  is, 
I  can  tell  you,  though  he  keeps  quiet  about  it 
—he " 

"Yes,  I  know,"  Crossley  cut  in.  "He  is 
engaged  to  his  cousin,  and  her  guardian  refuses 
to  give  her  consent  until  Herries  has  got  his 
promotion^  and  if  it  does  not  come  soon  her  aunt 
will  make  her  marry  Lord  Sackbut ;  but  tell  us 
about  the  trial." 

Banks,  no  whit  ashamed  of  his  morning's 
work,  helped  himself  to  a  brandy  and  soda  and 
related  what  he  had  seen.  The  race  had  been 
run  at  a  good  pace,  both  men  rode  well,  but  the 
bay  mare  never  seemed  to  have  a  chance.  Odd 
thing,  by  the  way,  had  happened.  A  girl,  dressed 
and  looking  like  a  gentlewoman,  had  suddenly 
appeared  at  a  gate  and  watched  the  finish — a 
female  tout. 


120  BACECOUKSE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

The  recital  was  the  more  agi-eeable  to  hearers 
and  to  speaker  by  reason  of  another  trial  that 
had  taken  place  near  to  Coltsford  a  couple  of 
days  before.  Eed  Eover,  the  animal  which,  to 
all  outward  appearance,  and,  as  the  regiment 
perfectly  believed,  Banks  had  offered  to  lend 
Crossley  in  a  moment  of  casual  amiability,  had 
run  three  miles  across  country  against  Mainstay, 
and  had  confirmed  the  good  opinion  of  friends, 
and  the  public  reputation  of  the  Daphne  colt 
(for  as  such  Red  Eover  had  done  good  service 
on  the  flat)  by  gaining  a  clever  victory  over  that 
sterling  horse.  That  Mainstay  was  at  her  best 
had  been  since  amply  demonstrated  by  a  credit- 
able success  at  Warwick.  In  fact,  the  horse 
belonged  to  Sir  Thomas,  who  had  given  his 
natural  love  of  roguery  full  swing  when  Crossley, 
with  much  delicacy,  sounded  him  as  to  the 
feasibility  of  arranging  for  a  Eegimental  Cup, 
to  be  given  at  the  much-talked-of  Wessex  Hunt 
Steeplechase,  and,  furthermore,  as  to  the  desir- 
ability of  getting  something  in  the  stable  ready 
to  make  it  sure  that  the  prize  should  fall  into 
(what  Crossley  regarded  as)  the  right  hands. 

The  train  had  been  cunningly  laid,  the  little 
swindle  arranged  with  much  foresight  and  judg- 
ment ;  Sir  Thomas's  long  experience,  natural 
aptitude,    and    hearty   appreciation    of    such    a 


UPSET.  121 

business,  being  all  brought  to  bear  upon  the 
scheme.  If  he  could  have  let  Crossley  and 
Banks  into  a  hole,  he  would  gladly  have  done 
so,  but  the  blot  on  the  transaction,  from  his 
point  of  view,  was  that  he  must  run  straight 
so  far  as  they  were  concerned.  He  had  some 
horses  of  the  highest  class,  and  had  been  in 
some  very  big  "  plants  "  in  his  time,  some  of 
which  had  succeeded  and  others  failed,  but  he 
had  rarely  entered  into  a  swindle  with  such 
gusto  as  on  the  present  occasion. 

As  for  his  brother  rogues,  Crossley  and  Banks, 
it  was  some  comfort  to  Sir  Thomas  to  know  that 
they  were  both  desperately  hard-up,  and  that 
the  few  hundreds  they  might  win  now  would 
only  make  them  more  eager  to  continue  the 
game,  which  was  tolerably  certain  to  break  them 
in  the  end.  As  already  mentioned  in  the  course 
of  conversation,  Banks's  new  horse,  Eed  Eover, 
was  in  reahty  the  Daphne  colt,  an  animal  that 
had  done  fairly  well  on  the  flat,  took  kindly  to 
jumping,  and  was,  of  course,  of  infinitely  superior 
class  to  anything  that  was  likely  to  appear  in  a 
regimental  steeplechase.  With  such  an  accom- 
plished rider  as  Crossley  the  result  seemed 
assured,  and  the  various  players  at  the  game 
looked  forward  with  an  anxious  expectation  to 
the  28th. 


122  BACECOUESE   AND   COVEET    SIDE. 

CHAPTER  III. 

THE    BACE. 

The  promise  of  a  fine  day  on  the  morning  set 
apart  for  the  race  was  warmly  welcomed, 
and,  moreover,  was  handsomely  kept.  The  first 
contest  was  put  down  for  1.30,  and  before  one 
the  course  at  Mowington  was  thronged.  The 
farmers  for  many  miles  around,  in  all  sorts  of 
vehicles  drawn  by  all  sorts  of  cattle,  were  plenti- 
fully represented,  while  their  wives  and  daughters 
attended,  for  the  most  part  gorgeously  clad. 
Red  coats  were  familiar  objects,  for  the  garrison 
at  Coltsford  had  gone  racing  with  one  accord, 
and  five  or  six  drags  gave  character  to  the  mis- 
cellaneous array  of  carriages.  Mounted  men 
mingled  with  the  throng  by  the  rails,  or,  to  be 
more  accurate,  by  the  ropes,  which  marked  oft 
the  finish,  and  an  improvised  grand  stand  was 
well  filled. 

Prominent  among  the  drags  was  Sir  Henry 
Selstead's  coach,  and  on  the  box  by  her  ladyship's 
side  was  seated  Mabel  Roydon.  But  for  the 
anxiety  this  w^ould  have  been  an  altogether 
delightful  excursion  for  Mabel,  the  more  so  as 
her  aunt  was  not  present.     That  lady  had  been 


UPSET.  123 

called  on  business  to  London,  and,  hearing  that, 
Lady  Selstead,  one  of  the  kindest  women  in  the 
world,  every  one's  friend,  and  something  more 
than  a  friend  to  Mabel,  had  begged  that  the  girl 
might  spend  a  week  at  the  Towers,  What  to 
do  with  Mabel  had  been  a  perplexing  point,  and 
the  invitation  was  gladly  accepted  on  her  behalf ; 
for  Lady  Selstead  had  very  judiciously  omitted 
to  mention  anything  whatever  about  steeple- 
chases, regimental  cups,  or  to  add  that  a  letter 
was  to  be  sent  to  Clive  Herries  to  say  that  she 
and  Sir  Henry  would  be  delighted  to  see  him 
at  the  Towers  whenever  he  could  manage  to  call 
and  dine. 

In  truth,  Mabel  had  told  all  her  hopes  and 
fears  to  her  friend,  whose  tender  heart  was 
deeply  moved,  for  threescore  years  of  life  had 
not  in  the  least  blunted  her  sympathies  or 
deadened  her  ever-ready  benevolence.  Such 
comfort  as  she  could  bestow  had  been  heartily 
accorded,  and  Mabel  felt  her  confidence  partially 
revive  in  this  pleasant  and  kindly  companion- 
ship ;  though  ever  and  anon  the  thought  of  that 
dreadful  little  brown  horse  which  would  not  be 
shaken  o&  came  to  disturb  her. 

Luncheon  was  in  progress  here  and  on  the 
neighbouring  drags,  and  Sir  Henry's  hospitality 
was  warmly  appreciated,  as  the  popping  of  iu- 


124  RACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

numerable  corks,  and  the  activity  of  the  servants 
diving  for  clean  plates,  and  producing  fresh 
chickens  and  game  pies  from  well-filled  baskets, 
showed  with  sufficient  clearness.  The  Lancers' 
drag  was  also  surrounded  by  a  swarm  of  friends, 
who  were  disturbed  in  their  feasting  and  chaff 
by  the  appearance  of  the  numbers  for  the  first 
race,  chalked  in  huge  letters  on  a  blackboard 
which  did  duty  for  the.  telegraph. 

The  ring  was  small  in  numbers,  but  what  was 
wanting  in  numerical  strength  was  amply  atoned 
for  by  strength  of  lung,  though  how  the  vigorous 
pencillers  could  form  any  opinion  as  to  the 
merits  of  "  horses  bond  fide  the  property  of 
farmers  huating  with  the  Wessex  Hounds  "  does 
not  appear.  This  and  the  second  race,  for  Hunt 
Servants  attached  to  any  pack  of  hounds  in 
Wessex  or  Storfordshire,  were  duly  run,  how- 
ever ;  aud  the  next  event  on  the  card  may  be 
transcribed : — 

A  Cup,  value  Sixty  Guineas,  added  to  a  Sweepstahes  of  Tiventy 
Sovs.  each,  for  horses  the  property  of  officers  in  the  1527id 
Lancers,  and  to  he  ridden  by  officers  of  the  regiment ;  4  yrs., 
12st.  ;  5  y7's.,  12st.  hlh.  ;  6  yrs.  and  aged,  Vlst.  7lb.  About 
three  miles. 

1.  Bay  Bessie,  6  yrs scarlet 

2.  Equinox,  5  yrs black,  gold  seams 

3.  Chatelaine,  aged  pink,  ivhite  sleeves  and  cap 

4.  Red  Rover,  5  yrs lohite,  red  cap 

5.  Sabretache,  6  yrs strato 


UPSET.  125 

6.  Playfellow,  6  yrs dark  blue,  black  cap 

7.  St.  Patrick,  aged green 

8.  Witchcraft,  6  yrs cardinal  red 

9.  Post  Horn,  aged  ivhite,  red  belt  and  cap 

10.  Heartsease,  5  yrs light  bhie,  white  cap 

11.  The  Countess,  5  yrs....    black  and  cherry  stripes,  cJierry  cap. 

Owners  were  up  except  in  the  cases  of 
Nos.  1,  9,  and  11.  Heath  rode  Bay  Bessie,  and 
the  owners  of  the  other  two  not  being  able  to 
get  down  to  near  the  weight,  could  not  ride 
their  own  horses. 

To  the  disgust  and  surprise  of  Sir  Thoraas 
Aston,  Bed  Bover  was  installed  a  hot  favourite 
at  6  and  5  to  4.  The  Countess  and  St.  Batrick 
were  next  in  demand  at  5  to  2  and  3  to  1,  and 
5  to  1  was  taken  freely  about  Bay  Bessie,  who, 
it  was  known,  would  stand  up  and  get  the  course, 
though,  wanting  a  turn  of  speed,  she  might  very 
likely  be  beaten  if  a  good  galloper  was  handy  at 
the  finish.  That  the  most  fervent  good  wishes 
and  injunctions  to  be  careful  had  been  uttered 
from  the  box  of  Sir  Henry's  coach,  as  Olive 
said  good-bye  before  starting  off  to  dress,  need 
scarcely  be  said. 

Lady  Selstead's  hopes  for  his  success  had 
been  spoken  almost  as  heartily  as  Mabel's,  and 
in  the  height  of  his  anxiety  Olive  could  not  help 
thinking  what  a  dear  good  woman  she  was.  His 
face  was  troubled,  nevertheless,  for  besides  the 


126  EACECOUKSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

difficulty  of  winning  the  race,  the  difficulty  of 
winning  any  money  on  it  had  to  be  encountered. 
He  had  taken  ^£120  to  c£20  in  the  ring,  but  at 
the  idea  that  any  one  was  backing  Heartsease, 
the  offers  contracted,  and  that  with  remarkable 
rapidity. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  Sir  Thomas,  by  way  of  a 
blind,  had  whispered  it  about  pretty  freely  that 
Heartsease  was  a  good  thing,  and  had  invented 
a  glowing  but  purely  imaginative  account  of  a 
trial  in  which  Olive's  mare  had  greatly  dis- 
tinguished herself,  hoping  thereby  to  expand  the 
price  of  Red  Rover.  Besides,  when  Heartsease 
was  hopelessly  beaten,  it  would  add  an  additional 
pleasure  to  Red  Rover's  victory  to  watch  the 
long  faces  of  his  friends  as  he  lamented  to  them 
that  ''  in  races  of  this  sort  one  could  never  tell 
what  might  happen." 

Sir  Thomas  wanted  to  make  a  good  thing  out 
of  it ;  but  in  spite  of  the  ''  tip  "  he  had  tried  to 
circulate,  it  was  soon  hard  to  get  an  offer  of 
anything  over  even  money  about  the  favourite. 
The  worst  of  it  was  that  he  could  not  persuade 
Crossley  to  pull  the  horse,  as  he  and  Banks  had 
hastened  to  get  on  themselves,  and  the  market 
was  too  precarious  to  make  a  revolution  anything 
like  a  certainty.  While  puzzling  out  the  best 
thing  to  be  done,  Sir  Thomas  came  across  Clive, 


UPSET.  127 

and  at  once  asked  him  if  lie  wanted  to  back  his 
horse. 

"  They'll  lay  me  no  price,"  Clive  answered. 
"  Considering  how  the  favourite  and  two  or 
three  others  are  backed,  there  ought  to  be  some 
odds  forthcoming." 

For  a  moment  the  wily  Aston  reflected.  If 
Herries  wanted  to  back  his  horse  might  it  not  be 
better  than  it  seemed  ?  But  he  was  quickly 
convinced  again.  No  doubt  the  trial  which 
Banks  had  watched  was  run  against  some  old 
chaser,  and,  though  beaten,  Herries  might 
reflect — with  the  sanguine  vanity  of  youth — that 
even  though  defeated  the  performance  was  good 
enough  to  give  him  a  chance  in  a  regimental 
race  ;  for,  of  course,  he  could  not  know  what  kind 
of  a  horse  he  had  to  meet  in  Eed  Kover,  even  if 
this  Heartsease  could  hold  her  own  with  animals 
like  the  Countess  and  St.  Patrick,  or  a  decent 
jumper  like  Bay  Bessie.  Laying  against  Hearts- 
ease must  certainly  be  safe,  Aston  thought,  and 
determined  to  be  liberal, 

"Well,  what  do  you  want  to  do?  I'll  lay 
you  jeOOO  to  £100,  for  I  tell  you  frankly  I  don't 
think  you'll  win  it.  Bay  Bessie  is  the  stamp  of 
horse  I  like  to  stand  in  a  race  of  the  sort,  a  beast 
that  has  been  at  the  game  before  and  is  certain 
to  get  through,"  Sir  Thomas  said. 


128  EACECOURSE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

"And  how  about  the  favourite?"  Clive 
inquired  with  what  struck  Aston  as  being  a 
suspicious  glance. 

"  Too  flashy.  On  the  flat  or  over  hurdles  he 
might  do,  but  three  miles  is  a  long  way,  and 
the  going  is  rather  heavy,  I  fancy.  But  are  we 
going  to  do  anything  about  Heartsease  ?  Look 
here,  I'll  lay  you  ^1000  to  £100,"  Sir  Thomas 
exclaimed. 

"  Yes.  I  don't  mind  taking  that,"  Clive 
answered,  noting  down  the  bet. 

"  Again,  if  you  like  ?  " 

"Very  well." 

"  Any  more  ?  "  Sir  Thomas  continued. 

But  Clive  paused.  This  was  getting  into  long 
figures,  and  he  feared  to  go  too  deeply,  while 
Sir  Thomas,  who  felt  that  he  was  in  reality 
coining  money,  was  eager  to  proceed. 

"  See  !  For  once  I'll  lay  you  £1200  to  £100  ; 
twice  if  you  like  ?  " 

Clive,  however,  was  not  to  be  tempted  too 
far,  and  closed  his  book  with  £3200  to  £300, 
together  with  £120  to  £20,  and  £50  to  £10, 
taken  in  the  ring,  a  more  than  sufficient  plunge 
if  things  went  badly,  and  a  highly  satisfactory 
one  if  the  Fates  were  propitious  ;  and  he  strolled 
off"  to  look  at  his  mare  before  dressing  and 
weighing  out. 


UPSET.  129 

In  the  dressing-room  he  found  Heath  and 
Crossley,  comporting  themselves  with  the  qniet 
air  of  accustomed  hands,  and  little  Purleigh  full 
of  chaff  and  jocularity,  just  a  trifle  forced, 
perhaps.  Purleigh  had  begun  by  going  into 
training  in  quite  professional  style,  and  indulging 
himself  about  twice  a  week  to  an  extent  that 
more  than  undid  the  benefit  derived  from  a 
couple  of  days  of  the  strictest  care.  On  reaching 
the  course  Purleigh  had  stopped  at  Sir  Henry's 
drag  and  had  just  one  glass  of  champagne,  and 
just  half  a  glass  more.  This  suited  him  so  well 
that  he  had  gone  on  to  the  regimental  drag,  and, 
in  spite  of  protest,  had  a  couple  of  glasses  there ; 
and  fellows  chaffed  in  such  an  absurd  way  about 
it  that  he  had  left  the  place . 

Passing  by  Sir  Henry's  coach  again  he 
stopped  to  speak  to  some  men,  and  a  servant, 
who  had  just  opened  a  fresh  bottle,  handed  him 
a  glass  of  it.  This  he  took  quite  casually  and 
half  emptied  in  a  thoughtless  manner,  when, 
before  he  knew  what  was  being  done,  his  glass 
was  replenished.  This  was  very  annoying,  and 
in  the  first  flush  of  irritation  he  emptied  the 
glass,  refused  more  with  much  decision ;  where- 
upon, feeling  that  this  was  not  the  proper  kind 
of  preparation  for  a  steeplechase — on  a  brute  of 
a  horse  like  Playfellow,  too — concluded  that  a 

9 


130  EACECOUBSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

glass  of  slierry  was  necessary  to  put  things 
straight. 

After  this  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  in 
passing  through  the  ring  he  took  ,£200  to  M50 
about  his  horse  twice,  and  was  noisily  cheer- 
ful until  hoisted  upon  Playfellow's  back,  when 
the  demeanour  of  the  big  grey,  excited  by  the 
unaccustomed  crowd,  made  Purleigh  wish  with 
much  sincerity  that  he  had  left  the  champagne 
alone,  and  still  more  sincerely  that  he  had  never 
got  on  the  back  of  a  monster  that  did  not  know 
how  to  stand  still,  and  fought  for  its  head,  and 
generally  made  itself  horribly  offensive. 

At  length,  however,  the  eleven  were  all 
mounted,  and  they  file  out  of  the  extemporized 
paddock  and  on  to  the  course.  Playfellow, 
feeling  a  very  uncertain  hand  on  the  reins,  pulls 
and  bores,  and  very  nearly  unships  her  rider,  a 
contrast  to  Ked  Kover,  who  is  inclined  to  be 
skittish,  but  who  yields  obedience  to  a  firm, 
light,  restraining  hand.  If  Purleigh  had  dared 
to  use  his  whip,  or  dig  in  his  spurs,  he  would 
have  almost  accepted  another  =£200  to  £50  ;  but 
the  only  thing  he  can  do  is  to  determine  to  sell 
the  beast  at  the  earliest  possible  moment,  and  to 
hope  that  he  will  fall  into  bad  hands. 

Heartsease  seems  to  bear  her  light  blue  burden 
proudly,  and  Lady  Selstead's  kindly  whisper  that 


UPSET.  131 

they  look  spleudid  is  certainly  justified ;  but 
poor  Mabel  tliiuks  of  tbe  little  brown  horse,  and 
dreads  the  upshot.  The  mare,  however,  thanks 
to  Sir  Thomas's  tip,  has  advanced  in  favouritism  ; 
and  an  ingenuous  youth,  standing  near  the 
baronet  on  the  regimental  drag,  exclaims  in 
admiration  that  Heartsease  can't  be  beat,  and 
warmly  thanks  Aston  for  the  hint ;  whereat  the 
latter  smiles  delightedly.  Some  one,  he  thinks, 
is  singeing  his  fingers,  and  they  will  soon  be 
burnt ;  for  Eed  Eover  is  wonderfully  fit  and 
good-looking,  though  pubHcly  Sir  Thomas 
declares  the  horse  to  be  "light,"  "shelly," 
"  under-sized,"  "  over-done,"  and  full  of  faults. 

Mabel  watches  the  procession  cantering  to 
the  starting-post,  where  the  Hunt  secretary  is 
ready  with  the  flag,  and  at  the  first  attempt  the 
eleven  are  despatched  upon  the  journey  fraught 
with  such  momentous  issues.  First  away  is 
Purleigh,  not  because  he  wants  to  make  the 
running,  but  because  Playfellow  is  smitten  with 
a  desire  to  gallop  ;  and  how  the  pair  of  them  led 
the  way  over  the  first  fence,  a  hedge  and  ditch, 
one  of  the  pair  at  any  rate  never  understood. 
Over  they  got,  Purleigh  wondering  whether  he 
had  taken  too  much  champagne  or  whether  he 
had  not  taken  enough ;  and  so  the  dark  blue 
jacket  bobbed  over  the  plough.     Post  Horn  led 


132  RACECOUIISE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

the  field,  Eed  Eover  and  Heartsease  lying  well 
np,  and  Crossley's  eyes  seemed  everywhere,  albeit 
they  were  always  on  his  horse  or  his  horse's 
path  when  necessary.  The  second  fence  was  a 
row  of  rails  which  Playfellow  jumped  lamely 
after  something  so  near  a  refusal  that  Purleigh 
landed  on  his  horse's  neck  ;  but  the  rest  were  all 
together  and  all  jumped  in  good  form,  as  Mabel 
noted  through  her  glasses.  Here  St.  Patrick 
overpowered  his  jockey  and  ran  out,  luckily 
without  interfering  with  the  rest,  who  came 
together  down  to  a  regular  Wessex  ditch,  and 
Purleigh,  still  leading,  remembered  what  a  horrid 
place  it  was.  He  had  come  to  it  once  out 
shooting,  and  playfully  asked  if  anybody  had 
a  boat — and  here  he  was  galloping  at  it ! 

A  very  undecided  hand  on  the  reins  quickly 
let  Playfellow  know  that  he  need  not  jump  if  he 
did  not  care  about  it,  and  being  a  flashy  animal 
without  much  substance  he  decided  that  he 
would  not  put  himself  out  of  the  way.  A  half- 
nervous  dig  of  the  left  spur  upset  Playfellow's 
calculation  so  much  that  instead  ot  stopping 
abruptly  on  the  edge  of  the  ditch  he  slipped 
in,  and  so  horse  and  rider  disappeared  from 
view.  How  they  came  to  the  surface  of  the 
earth  again,  and  how  Purleigh  graphically  de- 
scribed the    courageous  vigour  with   which   he 


UPSET.  138 

''  drove  the  brute  hard  at  it "  need  not  be 
recapitulated. 

The  course  was  for  the  most  part  natural 
country,  but  a  few  jumps  were  made,  and  these 
the  field  was  now  approaching.  Thick  hedges 
with  ditches  before  them  were  the  next  fences, 
and  at  the  first  of  these  an  ugly  accident  was 
nearly  happening.  Mabel  almost  screamed  as 
she  saw  The  Countess  swerve  and  cannon  against 
Heartsease  as  he  landed,  knocking  Olive's  foot 
out  of  the  stirrup,  and  bringing  the  mare  on  to 
her  nose.  They  were  within  an  ace  of  falling, 
but  saved  themselves  cleverly. 

"Well  done!"  cried  Sir  Henry,  who  had 
taken  up  his  station  on  the  drag  behind  his  wife 
and  Mabel.  "  Herries  won't  lose  the  race  if 
riding  can  save  it.  See  !  Beautifully  done  !  " 
he  continued,  as  Olive,  having  steadied  himself 
and  his  mount,  kicked  back  his  foot  into  the 
stirrup  at  the  moment  when  they  were  rising  at 
the  next  fence. 

To  Mabel  the  whole  race  was  such  an  exciting 
struggle  that  she  scarcely  realized  what  was 
going  forward  ;  but  she  saw  that  in  the  midst  of 
the  throng  Olive's  light  blue  jacket  was  borne  to 
the  water-jump,  and  that  he  got  away  well  on 
the  otlier  side.  So  far  as  her  eyes  could  see, 
none  of  her  lover's  opponents  had  that  peculiar 


134  EACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

knack  of  slipping  away  from  a  fence  with  gallop 
apparently  undisturbed  as  the  little  brown  horse 
had  done ;  but  thongh  a  pink,  a  green,  and  a 
straw  jacket  had  disappeared,  and  Playfellow  was 
being  trotted  and  walked  home  over  the  fields, 
the  race  was  still  open.  Black  and  gold  seams, 
Equinox,  was  hopelessly  in  the  rear,  and  Post 
Horn  seemed  to  be  retiring  to  join  him,  while 
The  Countess  led,  followed  by  Bay  Bessie,  Bed 
Kover,  Heartsease,  and  Witchcraft.  To  Mabel 
the  moments  seemed  hours,  though  the  pace 
had  improved,  and  red,  white,  and  cherry  caps 
went  up  and  down  as  the  fences  were  reached 
and  jumped. 

Coming  to  the  rails  a  second  time.  The 
Countess  rose  feebly  and  landed  in  a  heap,  but 
four  of  the  now  diminished  field  struggled  on, 
Witchcraft  well  ahead.  Bound  they  come,  and 
there  are  now  only  tw^o  fences  and  the  run 
in,  and  Mabel's  heart  beats  desperately  hard. 
Clive  is  last  of  the  four.  Why  does  he  not  whip 
his  horse  and  pass  his  enemies  ?  Mabel,  in- 
experienced in  race-riding,  anxiously  wonders, 
and  the  hand  which  Lady  Selstead  has  held  out 
to  her  is  tightly  grasped  by  the  girl's  trembling 
fingers.  Over  the  last  fence  but  one,  and  Clive 
jumps  it  level  with  Bay  Bessie,  behind  Witch- 
craft and  Bed  Bover,  and  immediately  after  the 


UPSET.  135 

last  named  seems  to  shoot  out  and  take  a  strong 
lead. 

**  Oh,  he  cannot  win  !  "  Mabel  exclaims  in  an 
agony  of  fear. 

But  there  is  reassurance  in  Sir  Henry's 
answer. 

"Yes,  yes,  dear.  He's  riding  with  splendid 
patience.     See  !  " 

What  Mabel  saw  did  not  comfort  her.  The 
four  neared  the  last  fence  and  Eed  Eover's 
jockey  did  just  what  she  longed  to  see  Clive  do, 
take  up  his  whip.  If  Heartsease  would  but 
struggle  now  he  should  have  rest^  and  peace  and 
comfort  to  the  end  of  his  life,  she  thought.  But 
to  her  surprise  the  crowd  raised  a  cry  *'  The 
favourite's  beat !  "  and  Sir  Thomas  Aston  behind 
her,  uttered  an  exclamation  of  rage  and  dis- 
appointment. Eed  Eover  was  indeed  first  over 
the  last  fence,  but  at  the  moment  of  landing  he 
was  passed  by  Bay  Bessie,  with  Heartsease  at 
her  girths.  Crossley,  sitting  down  in  the  saddle, 
was  riding  hard,  and  Eed  Eover  kept  his  place 
for  a  few  seconds,  while  Witchcraft  dropped 
back,  yet  Crossley 's  white  jacket  could  never 
reach  the  scarlet  or  the  blue.  Scarlet  plods 
on,  but  it  is  evident  enough  to  the  experienced 
eye  that  the  lead  of  a  neck  is  held  on  sufferance. 
When  some  fifty  yards  from  the  winning-post 


136  RACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

Clive  gives  his  mare  lier  head,  and  without  a 
touch  of  the  whip  he  lands  her  an  easy  winner. 

Mabel  scarcely  knows  whether  to  laugh  or  cry, 
and  is  prevented  from  doing  either  by  a  whisper 
from  Lady  Selstead,  which  brings  her  to  herself, 
and  both  ladies  look  down  with  surprise  at  Sir 
Thomas  Aston,  who  certainly  has  a  most  remark- 
able way  of  acknowledging  gratitude. 

''  My  dear  Sir  Thomas,  I'm  awfully  obliged 
to  you  for  telling  me  about  Heartsease.  I've 
won  a  hundred,"  a  smiling  youth  gleefully 
exclaimed. 

"  Yes,  awfully  kind.  I  backed  it  too,  and  so 
did  Harvey,  I  know,"  a  second  youth,  also 
smiling,  added. 

But  the  genial  Sir  Thomas  turned  from  them 
with  a  scowl,  and  said  something  very  fierce  and 
disagreeable,  which  made  them  marvel  exceed- 
ingly. 

Congratulations  and  thanks  were,  indeed, 
showered  from  all  sides  upon  the  irate  Aston  for 
his  tip,  the  speakers  little  knowing  the  motive 
which  had  made  him  speak,  and  how  utterly  the 
result  which  he  had  predicted  was  opposed  to 
his  anticipations.  To  pay  and  look  pleasant  are 
the  duties  of  a  loser.  Sir  Thomas  could  pay ; 
looking  pleasant  was  beyond  him. 

''And   yet   Mabel  tells  me  you  were   badly 


UPSET.  137 

beaten  in  your  trial  ? "  Lady  Selstead  says, 
inquiringly,  to  Clive,  when  presently,  with  a 
delight  which  he  takes  ineffectual  pains  to  con- 
ceal, he  strolls  up  to  Sir  Henry's  drag.  "  How 
strange  that  was  !  " 

"  Not  very  strange.  Lady  Selstead,"  Clive 
answers,  with  a  smile;  "I  was  beaten  in  my 
trial,  it  is  true  enough,  but  by  one  of  the  very 
best  horses  in  the  country.  His  owner  was  a 
great  friend  of  my  poor  brother,  and  lent  me  the 
horse  to  try  Heartsease  with.  When  I  tell  you 
that  the  little  brown  horse  which  Mabel  thought 
so  poorly  of  is  Opportunity,  who  is  almost  as 
good  at  even  weights  as  the  Grand  National 
winner,  you  will  see  that  my  defeat  was  far  from 
unpromising,  for  we  made  a  bit  of  a  fight  of  it. 
Opportunity  is  not  much  to  look  at,  but  he  is  a 
marvellous  jumper,  and  can  gallop  at  a  wonderful 
pace  as  well." 

Mabel  did  not  quite  understand.  Sir  Henry, 
however,  though  not  a  racing  man,  knew  of 
Opportunity's  reputation. 

"  Yes;  that  was  good  enough  to  go  on,  indeed, 
if  you  got  near  him  in  your  trial,"  he  said. 
"  They  say  he  would  very  nearly  have  won  at 
Liverpool  if  he  had  gone  for  it.  Your  friend  is 
lucky  to  have  two  such  chasers  in  his  stable  as 
the  winner  and  Opportunity." 


138  EACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  Clive  answered.  "  He  could 
have  won  with  either  ;  but  the  Httle  brown  horse 
had  31b.  more  to  carry  than  the  other." 

Some  men  in  the  regiment  now  approached 
the  drag  to  offer  congratulations,  and  hoped  that 
Herries  had  backed  his  horse.  Thanks  to  Sir 
Thomas  Aston,  this  was  all  right,  and  Clive  had 
won  the  comfortable  sum  of  J63590. 

It  was  not  a  pleasant  meeting  between  Aston, 
Crossle}^,  and  Banks  when  the  race  was  over. 
To  Aston,  indeed,  it  really  mattered  little,  for 
he  could  afford  the  loss,  though  the  thanks  of 
"  friends,"  to  whom  he  had  prophesied  Heartsease 
as  the  winner,  were  gall  and  wormwood  to  him. 
Crossley,  however,  brought  himself  to  very  nearly 
the  end  of  his  military  career ;  but  he  had  bought 
experience. 

How  a  grand  wedding  at  Selstead  Towers 
transformed  Mabel  Eoydon  into  the  wife  of 
Captain  Herries  before  the  Christmas  festivities 
(kept  up  heartily  in  the  good,  old-fashioned 
county)  were  over,  it  is  not  necessary  to  write  in 
detail.  As  regards  the  Eegimental  Cup,  the 
most  artfully-contrived  machinations  were  Upset. 


ROOKS  AND  PIGEONS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

*'  'OssES  ?      Capper  ?      Capper    don't    know  no 

more  about 'osses  tlian "     Farmer  Stnbson 

paused,  for  he  was  not  good  at  similes,  and  having 
vainly  looked  for  inspiration  into  the  mug  of 
beer  on  the  table  before  him,  took  a  long  drink, 
and  contemptuously  resumed  his  pipe. 

''  Oh  !  he  don't,  don't  he  ?  "  Farmer  Rutters 
rejoined.  "Did  he  find  the  winner  of  the 
Southdown  Cup  ?  Yes,  did  he  !  Did  he  find 
the  winner  of  the  Wessex  Stakes  ?  Yes,  did  he  ! 
Was  he  right  about  Goodwood  this  year — right 
through  a'most  ?     Yes,  was  he  !  " 

"And  didn't  he  give  thirty  pounds  for  old 
Chipps'  mare,  when  she  was  broken  down,  and 
any  one  could  see  with  half  an  eye  she  wasn't 
worth  shoeing  ?  Yes,  didn't  he  !  I  tell  'ee  he 
don't   know  no   more   about    'osses   than " 


140  RACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

The  simile  hadn't  come  yet,  and  again  Stubson 
took  refuge  in  his  beer  mug. 

"  But  I  must  say  that  he's  been  strangely 
lucky,  has  Mr.  Capper,"  Garrett,  the  weak- 
voiced,  sharp-nosed  little  barber  joined  in. 
*'  Strangely  lucky  he's  been  in  his  betting. 
You  are  not  here  much,  Mr.  Stubson,  and  you 
have  not  seen  the  wonderful  hits  he's  made. 
There  was  Port-hole  for  the  Corinthian  Stakes, 
that  nobody  thought  had  a  chance,  and  he  came 
in  and  won  from  us  all  round.  Then  there  was 
May  Blossom  again  ;  that  was  wonderful  judg- 
ment, and  it's  quite  sure  that  In  general  he's 
right.  He  may  not  understand  horses  in  private 
life,  but  he  does  seem  to  know  them  that'll  win 
races;"  and  the  little  man  rubbed  his  hands 
deprecatingly,  as  if  in  apology  for  differing  from 
the  burly  farmer. 

Stubson  grunted,  and,  emptying  his  mug, 
knocked  upon  the  table  for  some  one  to  come 
in  and  replenish  it. 

The  scene  was  the  parlour  of  the  Fox  and 
Hounds,  Chipbury  —  called  Chipry  by  the 
inhabitants — a  good  many  more  years  ago  than 
some  people  like  to  remember,  and  it  was  grow- 
ing late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  day  when  the 
Royal  Southern  Steeplechase  was  being  run  at 
Birdingley,  some   thirty  miles   from   Chipbury, 


BOOKS    AND    PIGEONS.  141 

the  farmers  of  which  little  town,  though  not  of  a 
particularly  sporting  character  as  sport  was  then 
understood,  liked  to  risk  a  sovereign  or  two  on 
the  races  run  by  horses  of  which  they  had  some 
sort  of  knowledge.  Most  of  the  seven  or  eight 
occupants  of  the  room  had  mildly  speculated, 
incited  thereto  by  a  young  farmer  named  Capper, 
who  had,  as  a  pretty  general  rule,  got  much  the 
best  of  it. 

News  in  those  days  did  not  travel  very  fast, 
and  the  result  of  the  race  came  to  Chipbury  in 
rather  a  round-about  way.  The  mail  from  Bird- 
wood  passed  a  village  some  three  or  four  miles 
from  the  scene  of  this  story,  and  Scarlet,  the 
guard,  brought  information,  which  was  given  to  a 
boy,  waiting  on  a  pony  to  ride  over  to  Chipbury 
and  let  the  sportsmen  know  what  had  happened. 

''What's  the  time?  Five  o'clock?  Gets 
dark  early — doesn't  it?"  jolly  old  Driller  said. 
"  What's  that  ?  I  hear  a  horse — it  can't  be  the 
boy  already." 

The  little  barber  looked  out  of  the  window. 

"  It's  some  of  the  redcoats  coming,"  he 
answered,  peering  out  into  the  dusk.  "Why, 
it's  young  Mr.  Swaynton  from  the  Manor,  and 
the  young  gentleman  with  him  that's  stopping 
there  on  a  visit.  Dear  me  !  They're  coming 
here  !  " 


142  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

As  soou  as  the  words  were  spoken  Swaynton 
and  his  friend  pulled  np  at  the  door,  and  were 
received  by  old  Lomax,  the  landlord,  with  the 
ceremony  due  to  the  squire's  son  and  his  guest. 
The  soiled  state  of  their  pinks,  breeches  and 
boots  showed  that  they  had  been  hard  at  work 
in  a  deep-going  country. 

'*  Good  day,  Lomax.  My  friend's  horse  has 
cast  a  shoe.  Will  you  send  him  round  to  the 
forge,  and  we'll  wait  ?  "  Swaynton  said. 

"Yes,  sir,  directly.     Will  you  step  into  my 


room,  sir  ? 
(I 


''  Oh  no,  thanks,  Lomax.  We  won't  disturb 
you  ;  we'll  go  into  the  parlour.  What  will  you 
have,  Charlie  ?  A  mug  of  ale  for  me,  please — 
two  mugs  ;  "  and  the  young  men  turned  aside 
into  the  cheery  room,  the  occupants  of  which 
were  barely  discernible  for  the  smoke  they 
raised. 

"  My  duty  to  you,  sir.  Glad  to  see  you  down 
again.  Will  you  come  to  the  fire, -sir?  "  Driller 
said,  moving  his  chair  back,  and  displaying  a 
sturdy  pair  of  butcher  boots,  with  a  suitable 
continuation  of  cord  breeches,  showing  that  he 
too  had  been  out  with  the  hounds. 

*'  No,  thanks,  Driller.  We're  not  cold ; 
we've  been  riding.  I  thought  I  saw  you,  but 
you  left  us  early." 


EOOKS   AND    PIGEONS.  143 

"  Yes,  sir.  Just  joined  in  as  you  drew  the 
cover  back  of  my  farm,  and  then  came  down  to 
sit  a  bit  and  bear  tbe  news." 

"What  is  the  news  ?  It's  some  time  since 
I've  been  down,  you  know  ?  What's  going 
on  ?  "  Swaynton  asked. 

"Well,  sir,  you  know  the  Eoyal  Southern 
Cup's  been  run  for  to-day,  and  we're  waiting  for 
the  winner  of  that,"  Eutters  answered. 

"What's  going  to  win  it?"  Swaynton's 
friend,  Charlie  Summers,  joined  in. 

"  Why,  sir,  we've  always  fancied  Ladybird, 
but  a  man  that's  generally  right' — wonderful 
right  he  is,  to  be  sure — has  a  fancy  for  Bomb- 
shell, and  we're  afraid  that  Bombshell  may  have 
done  it.  News'll  come  in  a  few  minutes. 
Wonderful  right  he  is,"  Butters  added,  for 
Stubson  had  grunted  at  the  statement. 

"And  you've  been  backing  Ladybird?  I 
should  think  you  are  not  far  wrong.  Bombshell 
is  Bidding's  horse,  isn't  it?"  Swaynton  con- 
tinued, turning  to  his  friend. 

"  Yes.  I  don't  fancy  you  have  much  to  fear 
from  Bombshell,"  Summers  said,  turning  to  the 
group  of  smokers  round  the  hospitable-looking 
hearth.  "  Lord  Bielding  told  me  last  week  he 
did  not  think  his  chance  was  a  very  good  one  if 
Ladybird  and  Earl  Marshall  stood  up." 


144  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

"Who  is  the  local  prophet  who's  generally 
right  ?  "  Swaynton  asked. 

"  It's  Capper,  sir ;  has  the  Quarry  Farm  ; 
you'll  know,  sir.  It's  one  of  Lord  Stanmore's, 
away  by  the  Three  Oaks,  on  the  London  Eoad," 
Eutters  said. 

"And  where  does  he  get  his  wonderful 
information  from  ?  "  Swaynton  inquired. 

"  That's  what  we  don't  know,  sir  ;  but  right 
he  is  in  general,  sure  enough.  Sometimes  he 
makes  a  mistake,  like  the  rest  of  us.  He  didn't 
hit  off  the  Derby  this  year,  and  we  got  some- 
thing back  over  the  Chester  Cup  ;  but  in  general, 
specially  in  races  down  South,  he's  wonderful 
right !  "  the  little  barber  chimed  in. 

"  And  he  don't  know  no  more  about  'osses 

than Pooh!  "  Stubson  added,  with  a  look 

across  at  Eutters,  giving  up  the  search  for  a 
simile  in  a  good  round  grunt  of  contempt. 

"That's  the  facts,  though,"  Eutters  ex- 
claimed, taking  up  his  friend's  challenge.  "  How 
does  it  fall  out  ?  Scarce  a  day  of  a  big  race 
passes  but  in  comes  Capper.  '  Well,'  he  says, 
'  what  about  the  Cup,  or  the  Stakes  ?  '  '  So- 
and-so,'  we  say.  '  W^hy  shouldn't  Bombshell  (or 
what  it  might  be)  win?  That's  the  one  I  shall 
back,  and  I'll  hold  him  against  any  other,  or  I'll 
take  three  to  one  (or  whatever  it  is)  against  him.' 


ROOKS    AND    PIGEONS.  145 

Well,  it  doesn't  often  happen  that  he's  wrong, 
though  he  sometimes  may  be." 

"  He's  a  young  scamp,  a  young  rascal,  that's 
what  he  is  !  and  if  Lomax  lets  that  darter  o'  his 
take  up  with  the  like  o'  Capper,  I'm  done  with 
him,"  Stuhson  burst  out.  ''  What  did  he  do  for 
Frank  Parker — as  good  a  lad  as  ever  stepped  ? 
He  won  his  money,  and  he  led  him  on  till  the 
lad  hadn't  a  shilling  to  bless  himself  with,  and 
now  he's  trying  for  the  lad's  sweetheart. 
Capper's   a " 

"  Be  quiet,  can't  you  ?  "  Stubson's  neighbour 
muttered,  as  pretty  little  Kitty  Lomax  bustled 
into  the  room  with  a  tray  of  mugs.  "  Don't  let 
the  girl  hear." 

Stubson's  unusual  eloquence  resolved  itself 
into  grunts  again,  and  Kitty,  whose  eyes  were 
less  bright  and  her  cheeks  less  rosy  than  of  yore, 
went  with  rather  a  sad  smile  about  her  work, 
and  left  the  room. 

"I  thought  it  was  a  match  between  Frank 
Parker  and  Miss  Kitty,"  Swaynton  said.  "  Has 
it  gone  wrong  ?  " 

*'  Wrong  as  it  can  be !  "  Stubson  replied, 
"  and  it's  Capper  that's  done  it.  It  was  him 
that  led  Frank  Parker  on,  telling  him  he'd  show 
him  how  to  make  his  three  hundred  pounds  into 
three  thousand,  and  now  the  lad's  ruined,  and 

10 


146  EACECOUKSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

it's  strange  to  me  if  Capper  isn't  the  richer  for 
it.  No !  I  won't  hush,  I'll  say  what  I  think, 
and  show  me  the  man  that'll  stop  me  !  It's  him 
as  done  it,  and  Lomax  says  he'll  have  no  beggars 
round  his  daughter,  and  wants  to  force  Capper 
on  the  girl  that  hates  the  sight  of  him.  No,  I 
don't  care  ;  I  will  speak  !  " 

The  old  farmer,  who  had  got  very  red  in  the 
face  with  excitement,  puffed  hard  at  his  pipe, 
oblivious  of  the  fact  that  it  had  gone  out. 
Swaynton,  who  was  near  the  candle,  handed  him 
a  spill,  and  for  a  moment  there  was  silence  in 
the  room. 

*'  So  Mr.  Capper  is  thriving  and  poor  Frank 
Parker  has  come  to  grief?  I'm  sorry  to  hear 
it.  How  do  you  suppose  Capper  gets  his 
information  ?  " 

"  We  can't  for  the  life  of  us  make  it  out," 
the  little  barber  answered.  ''  It's  the  strangest 
thing  that  ever  was  known,  the  way  he's  always 
right.  As  soon  as  ever  the  race  is  run  he  seems 
to  know  what's  won  it — that's  another  strange 
thing  about  it.  It's  only  at  the  last  minute, 
like,  that  he  makes  up  his  mind,  and  comes  in — 
always  on  the  afternoon  of  the  day — two  or  three 
hours  before  the  news  reaches  us — he  comes  in, 
and  he's  got  it." 

**  I   suppose   there  isn't   time   for  a  man  to 


ROOKS    AND    PIGEONS.  147 

ride  the  distance  from  the  course  ?  "   Summers 
asked. 

"  No  ;  oh  no  !  Goodwood  is  forty  miles 
away,  Birdingley  is  nigh  on  thirty ;  no  horse 
could  do  it,"  the  little  barber  answered,  half 
delighting  in  the  mystery,  and  not  anxious  for 
any  simple  explanation. 

Summers  smiled,  and  quietly  asked,  "  Is  he  a 
pigeon  fancier  ?  A  bird,  perhaps,  might  bring 
the  news  if  a  horse  could  not  ?  " 

But  heads  were  shaken  at  the  idea. 

*'  Not  he  !  That's  not  it.  He  couldn't  train 
pigeons  to  fly  and  we  know  nothing  about  it. 
We  should  see  them  about  the  place,  sure 
enough.  It's  out  of  the  way,  the  farm  is,  but 
not  far  enough  out  for  him  to  try  that  without 
us  knowing  of  it.  There  isn't  a  pigeon  on  the 
farm,  barring  a  wild  one,  perhaps,  in  a  tree," 
answered  Rutters,  who  had  a  half-sneaking  sort 
of  regard  for  Capper's  cleverness  in  spite  of  his 
bad  behaviour  to  Frank  Parker  and  his  persecu- 
tion of  Kitty  Lomax. 

"  Well,  I  fancy  he's  wrong  to-day.  Ladybird 
or  Earl  Marshall  seem  to  have  the  race  between 
them.     What  does  he  go  for— Bombshell  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that's  his  choice  ;  and  there's  the  pony. 
Now  we  shall  know  ?  "  the  barber  cried. 

The  quick  trot  of  a  pony  ceased  at  the  door. 


148  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

A  boy  jumped  off,  and  brought  into  the  room  a 
scrap  of  folded  paper,  which  he  gave  to  Eutters. 
"  Now  we  shall  see  who's  right !  "  he  said, 
as  he  opened  it.  His  countenance  fell  as  he 
read  the  words.  "  He's  done  it  again  !  There 
it  is,  sure  enough.  '  Eoyal  Southern  Steeple- 
chase.— Bombshell,  1  ;  Ladybird,  2  ;  The 
Pilot,  3.'  " 


CHAPTEE  n. 

Cheistmas  came  and  went.  Spring  and  summer 
followed  its  example  without  making  very  much 
change  in  the  position  of  affairs  in  Chipbury. 
The  farmers  grumbled  as  much  at  that  time  as 
they  do  now ;  it  is  the  prerogative  of  the  farmer 
to  grumble ;  but  there  was  less  cause  for  com- 
plaint then  than  there  is  at  the  present  day. 
Little  Garrett  had  discovered  an  infallible  system 
for  winning  on  the  turf,  and  had  very  nearly 
succeeded  in  breaking  himself  by  following  it, 
owing,  of  course,  to  some  most  unhappy  mischance 
that  never  could  occur  again.  Capper  had 
prospered  so  much  that  men  grew  shy  of  betting 
with  him,  and  though  sometimes  he  made  a  bad 
shot  on  one  horse  in  a  race,  it  was  usually  found 


BOOKS    AND    PIGEONS.  149 

he  more  than  saved  himself  on  the  winner ;  but 
tlie  secret  of  his  hick,  if  secret  there  were,  no 
one  had  penetrated. 

His  love  affairs  did  not  succeed,  in  spite  of 
old  Lomax's  aid  ;  for  Kitty  disdained  Capper, 
and  though  poor  Frank  Parker  was  in  a  bad 
way,  from  which  there  seemed  little  chance  of 
his  emerging,  Kitty  in  her  heart  remained  faithful, 
notwithstanding  that  the  lovers  never  met ;  far 
dearly  as  Frank  loved  Kitty,  now  that  things 
had  gone  wrong  with  him,  and  he  saw  no  prospect 
of  righting  them,  he  did  not  feel  justified  in 
asking  Kitty  to  bind  herseK  to  his  bad  luck. 

As  Stubson  had  truly  said,  it  was  Capper  who 
had  ruined  Frank.  Nothing  was  easier,  accord- 
ing to  Capper's  showing,  than  to  make  ten 
pounds  into  fifty  on  the  turf.  He  had  not  done 
so  himself  at  this  period  owing  to  just  such 
another  totally  unprecedented  run  of  bad  luck 
as  that  which  had  upset  the  little  barber's  system. 
But  it  was  easy  all  the  same,  he  declared ;  and 
Frank,  who  was  desperately  anxious  to  get  on  in 
the  world,  to  take  a  farm  and  make  a  home  for 
Kitty,  listened  and  credited  what  he  heard. 
Capper  was  to  advise  and  share  profits  ;  but  the 
beginning  of  the  campaign  was  not  successful, 
the  continuation  was  no  better — for  Frank,  at 
any  rate — and  the  remainder  of  his  little  fortune 


150  KACECOUESE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

was  devoted  to  that  terribly  difficult  business, 
getting  the  lost  money  back. 

When  things  had  looked  prosperously  for 
Frank,  old  Lomax  had  been  willing  enough  to 
see  him  at  the  Fox  and  Hounds ;  but  the  old 
man  had  no  notion,  he  declared,  of  a  fool  who 
couldn't  keep  his  money  when  he  had  got  it.  So 
cold  words  and  snubs  had  been  all  the  consolation 
Frank  received  for  his  losses,  and  he  sauntered 
miserably  about  the  village,  earning  a  pound 
when  he  could,  and  living  hardly  enough. 

It  happened  that  young  Swaynton  had  been 
at  the  Goodwood  Cup  this  year  himself,  but 
the  next  day  he  was  at  Chipbury,  and  had 
seen  Capper  bring  off  another  cowp,  which  had 
made  Eutters,  who  believed  that  for  once  he 
had  a  certainty,  whistle  with  dismal  emphasis, 
and  had  inflicted  another  blow  on  Garrett's 
system. 

In  time  the  Eoyal  Southern  Steeplechase  day 
came  round  again,  and  was  of  all  the  more 
interest  to  Chipbury  because  a  local  magnate, 
the  Earl  of  Spii'etown,  owned  one  of  the 
favourites,  Star  of  the  West.  Between  this 
mare,  Jupiter,  and  Primrose  the  race  was 
supposed  to  rest,  and  as  it  was  getting  on 
towards  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  a  group, 
very  similar  in  its  constitution  to   that   which 


BOOKS    AND    PIGEONS.  151 

had  assembled  the  previous  year,  were  gathered 
together  in  the  parlour  of  the  Fox  and  Hounds. 

Poor  little  Kitty  had  evidently  been  having  a 
rough  time  of  it,  for  her  father  had  been  talking 
to  her  on  the  subject  of  Capper's  claims,  in  the 
reverse  of  an  amiable  fashion,  and  her  eyes  were 
red,  the  twitching  of  her  lips  giving  additional 
evidence  of  the  reason  why. 

Stubson  was  in  his  usual  corner,  declaring 
for  Star  of  the  West,  and  abusing  Primrose. 

"  He  can't  gallop  no  faster  than  a — ■ —  " 
Again  the  old  farmer  was  aground  for  a  simile,  a 
difficulty  which  he  got  over  in  his  accustomed 
style. 

Suddenly  the  sound  of  a  horse's  feet  gallop- 
ing on  the  grass  by  the  roadside  struck  the 
ears  of  the  assembled  company,  and  little  Garrett 
was  up  in  a  moment  to  see  what  had  happened 
and  who  was  coming. 

"  Why,  it's  young  Mr.  Swaynton  !  Here  he 
comes,"  he  exclaimed,  as  Swaynton  pulled  up  at 
the  door  and  handed  his  mount  to  the  care  of 
the  ostler  who  clumped  round  from  the  stable- 
yard. 

*'  I  thought  perhaps  you  would  have  gone  to 
the  Cross  Roads  to-day,  sir,"  Butters  said.  "  It's 
too  far  for  me." 

"No,  I  have  not  been  hunting  to-day.     I've 


152  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

been — on  business,"  Swaynton  said,  hesitating 
for  a  moment,  and  then  cutting  his  explanation 
short.     "  Any  news  to-day  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  We're  waiting  to  hear  about  the 
Steeplechase  ;  but  the  news  can't  reach  us  for  a 
good  hour  and  a  half." 

"  What's  to  win  ?  "  Swaynton  asked.  ''  What 
do  you  think  about  it,  Stubson  ?  " 

''  Here's  the  man  that  can  make  a  good  guess 
at  it,  I'll  lay,"  Garrett  cried  suddenly.  "  Here's 
Capper." 

And  a  tax-cart  pulliug  up  at  the  door,  Capper 
descended,  leaving  the  driver  to  continue  on  his 
way. 

Stubson,  who  hated  Capper,  grunted  with 
angry  contempt,  but  most  of  the  others  looked 
with  some  interest  on  the  young  man  who 
came  in. 

Capper  was  some  two  or  three  and  thirty, 
with  black  hair,  deeply-set  eyes  close  together, 
and  a  rather  saturnine  expression  of  face,  most 
disagreeable  to  see,  perhaps,  when  the  sneering 
smile,  which  was  a  characteristic  expression, 
came  to  his  thin  lips. 

*'  Well,  I  can  guess  what  you're  talking 
about,"  Capper  began. 

"I  dare  say  you  can;  and  I  dare  say  you 
can     guess    something     else    better    than    we 


:i^    < 


\    =* 


'>?* 


Pfs 


1  'tV 


BOOKS   AND   PIGEONS.  153 

can,"  Smithers,  a  man  of  about  Capper's  age, 
rejoined. 

"  Aye,  Capper,  what  do  you  think  about  it 
this  time  ?  Star  of  the  West  for  ever,  eh  ?  " 
Butters  exclaimed. 

*'  I'm  not  quite  so  sure  about  Star  of  the 
West,"  Capper  answered.  "I  don't  see  what 
he's  done  that's  so  wonderful  after  all.  His  trial 
with  May  Queen  wasn't  such  a  startler,  even  if 
what  they  say  is  true.  I'm  not  so  sweet  on  her 
myself." 

Swaynton,  who  had  been  noting  what  took 
place  quietly,  but  with  some  interest,  observed 
as  he  lit  a  fresh  cigar,  ''  May  Queen  is  a  very 
good  mare,  I  fancy." 

"  And  so's  Jupiter  a  good  horse !  Why 
should  not  Jupiter  win  ?  Or  Primrose  ?  — not 
very  speedy,  but  slow  and  sure.  I  should  say 
Jupiter  myself,"  Capper  said. 

"  I  almost  think  that  I  should  be  inclined  to 
say  Star  of  the  West.  Burton  rides,  and  that's 
in  her  favour.  Jupiter,  I  should  say,  was  not 
the  horse  to  travel  successfully  over  that  difficult 
country,"  Swaynton  urged. 

"  Well,  sir,  are  you  ready  to  back  your 
opinion  ?  That's  the  way  to  show  a  man's  in 
earnest.  I'm  always  ready  to  back  mine,  and 
that's  Jupiter.     Will  you  do  anything  about  it, 


154  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

sir  ?  "  Capper  asked.  "  I'll  take  Jupiter  against 
Star  of  the  West." 

'^  I'm  not  so  fond  of  the  Star,  but  I  certainly 
don't  think  Jupiter  can  win,"  Swaynton  answered, 
"  though  very  likely  he  started  favourite." 

''  It  was  six  to  four  against  him  yesterday. 
Will  you  lay  it,  sir?  In  tens,  if  you  like," 
Capper  demanded. 

"I've  no  objection — 60  to  40?"  Swaynton 
quietly  answered. 

Capper's  eyes  gleamed  as  a  sudden  thought 
struck  him. 

"  In  hundreds,  if  you  like,"  he  cried,  leaning 
forward  over  the  table  towards  Swaynton ;  and 
the  bare  mention  of  such  a  bet  drew  amazement 
from  the  assembly. 

"Don't  do  it,  sir,  don't  do  it!  You'll  lose 
your  money!  Oh,  dear!  oh,  dear!"  little 
Garrett  exclaimed. 

"  Why  not  ?  Hold  your  tongue  !  The 
gentleman  can  take  care  of  himself  without  your 
lielp,  I  suppose,"  Capper  answered  in  angry 
excitement. 

"  Why  not  ?  Because  you  ain't  worth  it," 
Stubson  burst  out.     "  That's  why  not." 

"Then,  Mr.  Stubson,  since  you're  so  wise, 
we'll  have  it  money  down.  As  it  happens,  I  am 
worth  it,  and  in  the  bank  too,  and  something 


BOOKS   AND   PIGEONS.  155 

more  besides,  perhaps.  Here,  Lomax,  some  peu 
and  ink  !  Let's  have  this  down,  and  done  with. 
Six  hundred  to  four  hundred  against  Jupiter, 
you  bet,  and  I'll  lay  you  a  hundred  even  on 
Jupiter  against  Star  of  the  West  ?  " 

"  If  you  care  to  do  it.  Very  well !  "  Swaynton 
repHed ;  and  with  a  sneering  glance  at  Stubson, 
Capper  drew  from  his  pocket-book  a  folded  blank 
cheque,  and  signing  it  for  the  sum  he  had  risked, 
handed  it  to  Lomax's  custody. 

Swaynton,  as  the  only  son  of  a  wealthy 
baronet,  was  too  well  known  to  leave  any  doubt 
as  to  his  ability  to  pay  this,  for  Chipbury, 
unprecedented  bet. 

"  You  seem  more  cocksure  about  it  than  ever 
to-day,  and  yet  I'm  inclined  to  have  a  bet  on, 
for  I  think  Mr.  Swaynton's  a  good  judge.  I've 
lost  five-and-twenty  pound  to  you  this  year ;  and, 
dang  it !  I'll  go  for  man  or  mouse.  I'll  take 
Star  of  the  West  against  Jupiter !  "  Butters 
cried. 

''For  five  and  twenty?  Done  with  you," 
Capper  said,  booking  the  bet  with  a  trembling 
hand,  which  almost  prevented  him  from  writing. 

"  And  I  should  like  to  be  in  the  same  boat 
with  you,  gentlemen,"  little  Garrett  cried. 
"  Oh,  dear,  dear!  I  don't  know  whether  I  ought 
to,  and  it's  dead  against  the  system.     It's  the 


156  EACECOUKSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

third  favourite  I've  got  to  back  this  time,  and  I 
don't  know  which  that  is.  Say  a  couple  of 
pounds — say  three — no,  let's  make  it  five.  Oh, 
dear,  dear  me  !  Yes,  let's  make  it  five.  Oh, 
dear  !  "  and  the  little  man  wiped  his  forehead, 
to  which  excitement  had  brought  perspiration, 
"  You  can't  be  always  right  !  "  he  added. 

"No;  but  I  think  I'm  right  this  time," 
Capper  answered,  gulping  down  a  glass  of  brandy 
which  he  had  ordered,  and  lighting  a  cigar  at 
the  candle  near  him.  "  Jupiter's  the  horse  I'm 
for  to-day." 

At  this  moment  an  unexpected  occurrence 
took  place.  Frank  Parker  opened  the  door  and 
walked  in,  amidst  a  chorus  of  welcome  and 
wonder,  for  the  young  fellow  had  been  wonder- 
fully popular,  and  his  cheery  face — not  so  cheery 
now  as  it  used  to  be — had  been  much  missed. 
Swaynton  made  room  for  him,  however,  and  it 
was  evident,  indeed,  that  he  had  been  expecting 
Frank.  He  and  Capper  exchanged  a  very  curt 
nod  of  acknowledgment,  for  there  had  been  no 
open  quarrel  between  them ;  and  then  Frank 
had  to  explain  where  he  had  been  and  what  he 
had  been  doing ;  and  last,  but  not  least,  what  he 
would  take  to  drink.  But  drink  usually  implied 
the  summoning  of  Kitty,  and  much  as  he  wanted 
to  see  her,  he  yet  somehow  or  other  hoped  that 


EOOKS   AND    PIGEONS.  157 

she  would  not  come  in,  and  contented  himself 
with  a  pull  out  of  Stuhson's  heartily  proffered 
mug. 

"  Dear,  dear  me  !  If  that  Star  of  the  West 
don't  win — and  Jupiter  does!"  poor  Garrett 
exclaimed.  "  I  half  wish  I  hadn't  done  it  !  It's 
very  foolish,  and  yet  I  should  be  sorry  if  I 
hadn't.  The  boy  '11  be  here  soon.  I  wonder 
what  he'll  bring  !  " 

"  Mr.  Capper  has  a  very  strong  fancy  for 
Jupiter,  Parker,  and  the  rest  of  us  prefer  Star  of 
the  West's  chance,"  Swaynton  explained. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I've  given  it  all  up  myself.  It 
didn't  pay,  I  found,"  Frank  said,  with  a 
sigh. 

And  there  was  silence  in  the  room  for  a  few 
moments,  Swaynton  smoking  quietly,  Frank 
gazing  thoughtfully  into  the  fire,  and  Capper  look- 
ing fixedly  at  the  pocket-book  in  which  he  had 
inscribed  the  bets,  while  Garrett  went  out  to 
the  door  to  hear  the  first  sound  of  the  pony's 
hoofs.  And  he  had  not  long  to  wait.  Down 
the  road  the  hoofs  came  tapping,  the  boy  pulled 
up  at  the  door,  and  in  another  moment  the 
expected  paper  was  in  Eutters's  hand. 

''Now  we  shall  know  our  fate.  Oh,  dear! 
oh,  dear  !  If  it  should  be  Jupiter !  "  Garrett 
cried  in  an  agony  of  excitement. 


158  EACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

The  others  leaned  forward,  and  even  Swaynton 
took  the  cigar  from  his  mouth  as  Eutters  tore 
open  the  important  missive. 

**  We're  right,  hurrah  !  "  he  cried.  "  '  Star  of 
the  West,  1 ;  Dairymaid,  2 ;  Primrose,  3. 
Stalker,  The  Buck,  Vixen,  Jupiter,  His  Grace, 
and  Merry  Heart  also  ran.'  " 

Capper  turned  deadly  white,  and  with  a 
husky  voice  he  cried — 

''  It  can't  be  !     It  can't  be,  I  tell  you  !  " 

"  I  fail  to  see  the  impossibility,  Mr.  Capper  ; 
in  fact,  it's  precisely  what  I  expected.  I  never 
believed  Jupiter  could  stay  over  that  severe 
course,"  Swaynton  quietly  rejoined. 

"  I  expect  you'll  find  it  right  enough.  Capper. 
Scarlet  isn't  likely  to  have  made  a  mistake," 
said  Rutters. 

Grinding  out  an  oath  between  his  teeth. 
Capper  burst  out  of  the  room,  leaving  the  com- 
pany there  in  a  high  state  of  delight.  At  length 
they  had  their  revenge,  and  even  Swaynton's 
face  had  a  quiet  smile  of  elation  as  he  said  to 
Frank  Parker,  "  You  see  the  luck  changes  at 
last  if  you  only  wait  long  enough." 


A  day  or   two  afterwards,  when  dinner  was 
over  at  the  Hall,  the  ladies  had  left,  and  the 


EOOKS    AND    PIGEONS.  159 

men,  quitting  their  places,  had  pulled  their 
chairs  round  a  little  table  drawn  up  before  the 
huge  fireplace,  and  decorated  with  decanters 
containing  a  Madeira  the  like  of  which  was  not 
to  be  bought  for  money,  young  Swaynton 
explained  the  mystery,  for  the  story,  without  the 
explanation,  was  already  known. 

"  I'll  tell  you  how  it  came  about.  It  was 
you,  Charlie,"  he  said  to  Summers,  ''who  put 
me  on  the  track,  though  I  was  put  off  it  again 
when  the  men  said  that  no  pigeons  could  be 
trained  at  Capper's  farm  without  its  being  known 
to  the  village.  That's  true  enough  ;  but  pigeons 
were  at  the  bottom  of  the  secret  all  the  same. 
It  happens,  though  you  mayn't  know  it,  that  the 
Three  Oaks  on  the  London  Boad,  close  to 
Capper's  farm,  are  on  the  direct  road  from  Good- 
wood and  Birdingley  to  Spirebury  ;  and  as  soon 
as  a  big  race  was  run  at  either  of  these  meetings 
a  pigeon  was  flown,  with  the  name  of  the  winner 
tied  round  its  leg,  to  an  agency  kept  at  Spirebury 
by  Hunter,  whom  some  of  us  know.  I  happened 
to  hear  some  time  ago — a  couple  of  years,  I 
suppose  it  must  be — that  very  often  Hunter's 
birds,  after  travelling  well  enough  for  several 
years,  had  grown  uncertain.  Very  often  they 
did  not  arrive  at  all,  and  of  late  he  has  always 
had  a  couple  sent.     As  a  rule,  after  big  races 


160  KACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

only  one  arrived  ;  and  when  I  heard  of  Capper's 
mysterious  faculty  for  finding  winners — always, 
as  the  little  barber  said,  on  the  afternoon  of  the 
race — my  suspicions  were  aroused. 

''On  the  afternoon  of  a  day  in  the  Good- 
w^ood  w^eek  I  discovered  the  plot.  I  sent  my 
man  Harvey  to  watch  Capper's  farm.  Capper 
was  posted  on  a  ladder  by  the  chimney,  his 
brother  was  in  a  big  tree  not  far  ofi",  and  another 
fellow  was  sitting  astride  of  a  tree  nearer  the 
road.  Suddenly  the  brother  discharged  his  gun, 
and  down  came  a  pigeon.  He  slid  down,  his 
brother  after  him  ;  they  picked  up  the  bird, 
examined  it,  and  in  a  minute  were  in  their  cart 
driving  down  to  the  Fox  and  Hounds,  where 
Capper  declared  his  "  fancy  "  and  rooked  his 
friends.  The  wretched  bird  had  to  run  the 
gauntlet  of  three  guns,  and  the  chances  w^ere  one 
of  them  would  account  for  him." 

"Still  I   don't   quite   see "  one  of  the 

guests  broke  in. 

"But  you  will  see  in  a  moment,"  Swaynton 
continued.  "I  told  Hunter  how  things  were, 
and  begged  him,  after  the  big  steeplechase,  to 
send  his  birds  as  usual,  wdth  the  wrong  name  od 
the  tissue  paper.  He  promised  to  do  so,  and 
said,  moreover,  that  he  would  send  birds 
peculiarly  marked,  in  order  that  the  little  scheme 


ROOKS    AND    PIGEONS.  161 

might  be  additionally  sure.  The  Cappers  and 
their  man  were  posted  as  usual  on  the  day.  I 
was  watching " 

"  I  scarcely  like  that !  "  old  Sir  Herbert 
interrupted,  shaking  his  head.  But  his  son  was 
not  convinced  that  he  had  done  ill. 

"  My  dear  father,  you  must  fight  a  rascal 
like  this  with  his  own  weapons,"  he  replied. 
"  However,  I  was  watching,  and  I'm  not  ashamed 
of  it,  for  Capper  has  ruined  the  most  decent 
young  fellow  in  the  village,  and  has  done  much 
harm  besides.  I  waited ;  presently  the  first 
gun  went  off,  but  the  pigeon  was  out  of  range ; 
he  wheeled,  however,  and  gave  the  second  gun 
a  better  chance.  Down  he  came.  It  was  one 
of  the  birds  marked  as  Hunter  had  explained  it 
would  be.  I  got  on  my  horse  and  galloped  to 
the  Fox  and  Hounds.  Capper  arrived  soon 
after,  and  was  so  confident  about  Jupiter's  win 
that  I  knew,  whatever  else  had  won,  it  could 
not  be  Jupiter.  You  know  the  rest.  I  bet 
enough  to  get  back  for  Frank  Parker  the 
money  out  of  which,  in  a  way  I  need  not 
explain  at  present.  Capper  had  swindled  him. 
I  have  returned  him  the  money,  and  my  father 
has  put  him  into  a  farm ;  so  that,  besides 
putting  an  end  to  Mr.  Capper's  source  of  income, 
we   have   rescued   pretty  Kitty  Lomax   from   a 

11 


162  BACECOUESE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

blackguard.  That's  the  story.  I  have  let  my 
friend  Capper  know  that  his  game  is  found  out ; 
he  will  not  try  it  again,  and  he  is  painfully 
convinced  of  the  fact  that  sometimes  the  pigeons 
turn  the  tables  on  the  rooks." 


THE   SPOTTED   HORSE'S   STORY.* 

A   GEBISTMAS   COMEDY. 

**  Seen  life,  indeed?"  said  the  Spotted  Horse. 
''  I  should  rather  think  so  !  You  surely  did  not 
imagine  that  I  had  passed  my  entire  existence  in 
surveying  humanity  from  a  toy-shop  window  ? 
I  might  make  quite  a  pastoral  poem  about  my 
youth :  the  pleasant,  richly  daisied  summer 
fields  in  which  I  used  to  canter ;  the  sweet, 
juicy  grass,  and  bright  purple  clover  ;  the 
warm  straw-yard  where  I  wintered — for  I  was 
well  treated  then,  as  became  one  with  such 
blood  in  his  veins  as  ran  in  mine.  Ah,  those 
were  the  days  !  before  the  racket  and  bustle  of 
life  began,  when  I  had  no  care  or  anxiety,  and, 
as  I  remember  hearing  some  one  sing,  '  Fillies 
was  my  only  joy  !  ' — not,  grammatical,  perhaps, 

*  "  The  Spotted  Horse's  Story  "  was  one  of  a  collection  of 
tales  written  by  Messrs.  F.  C.  Burnand,  G.  A.  Sala,  tbe  late 
Henry  Kingsley,  Joseph  Hatton,  Sir  Charles  Young,  etc.,  to 
make  up  a  Christmas  number  ;  the  idea  being  that  a  number 
of  toys  fortuitously  brought  together  related  their  histories. 


164  EACECOUESE    AND    COVERT    RTDE. 

but  eminently  expressive  of  my  feelings  on  the 
subject.  I  was  a  very  different-looking  animal 
then,  I  can  tell  you.  I  had  a  coat  to  be  proud 
of,  and  a  groom  who  used  to  brush  and  smooth  it, 
until  it  shone  like — no,  not  like  satin ;  for  when 
did  you  ever  see  satin  with  the  glossy  sheen  of  a 
thorough- bred  horse's  coat?  Shall  I  tell  you 
about  my  first  race  at  Newmarket  ?  Jack 
Travers,  a  great  friend  of  mine,  was  to  ride,  and 
lots  depended  on  his  winning,  for  his  master  had 
put  a  pony  on  for  him,  and  if  he  pulled  it  off  he 
would  be  able  to  marry  pretty  little  Susan,  the 
trainer's  daughter.  That  was  a  great  day  when 
first  I  saw  the  racecourse  lined  on  each  side  by  a 
dense  throng  of  unknown  faces ;  and  I  must 
confess  to  having  felt  just  a  little  bit  scared  at 
first ;  but  when  I  heard  Jack's  encouraging 
voice,  and  felt  his  light  hand  on  the  bridle,  I 
knew  it  was  all  right.  Ah,  how  well  we  know 
the  touch  of  a  rider's  hand  on  the  reins,  and  the 
feel  of  his  legs  against  our  sides  !  Yes,  he  got 
his  money  and  his  wife — won  in  a  canter  by 
three  lengths.  Did  I  run  for  the  Derby  ?  No. 
I  was  entered,  and  backed  at  the  long  odds ;  but 
a  splint  began  to  show,  and — and  then  my 
painful  recollections  commence.  A  little  hunt- 
ing, a  little  steeplechasing — I  shall  never  forget 
the  day  I  first  broke  down.     Then  I  was  patched 


THE    SPOTTED    HORSe's    STORY.  165 

up,  did  a  season  in  town — a  cab — an  omnibus — 
tPien  my  joints  began  by  degrees  to  stiffen,  until 
it  was  not  a  very  great  transformation  when  I 
awoke  one  morning  after  a  long,  strange  dream 

to  find  that But  let  me  draw  a  veil  over  these 

reflections.  This  is  Christmas  time,  and  you 
don't  want  to  be  bored  with  the  depressing 
recollections  of  an  old  worn-out  horse  that  has 
seen  better  days,  and  is  obliged  to  come  to  town 
to  be  carpentered.  There's  lots  to  tell ;  but  the 
fact  is,  I'm  not,  as  Dr.  Darwin  is,  very  good  at 
the  '  development  of  speeches  ;  '  but — yes  !  I 
have  it !  There's  an  old  manuscript  somewhere 
in  the  box,  containing  an  account  of  an  incident 
in  which  I  played  rather  a  prominent  part.  Yes, 
there  it  is  !  The  story  is  better  told  than  I  could 
tell,  so  here  goes  : — 

December  has  recurred  so  often  since  the 
period  at  which  December  was  first  invented, 
that  I  do  not  propose  to  enter  into  a  detailed 
account  of  its  usual  characteristics.  Let  me 
rather  crave  permission  to  introduce  the  family 
circle  assembled  in  the  breakfast-room  of  Yerning- 
ton  Lodge.  My  father  sits  at  the  head  of  the 
table  reading  his  letters,  and  making  comments 
upon  them,  according  to  his  habit,  in  a  series  of 
very  expressive  grunts.     j\Iy  dear  mother  faces 


166  RACECOUESE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

him,  also  engaged  with  her  correspondence  in 
the  intervals  of  supplying  large  quantities  of  tea 
to  an  elderly  gentleman  on  her  right,  a  cousin  of 
hers,  whom  we  call  Uncle  John,  and  whose  chief 
characteristic  is  his  peculiar  faculty  for  rendering 
himself  miraculously  unpleasant  by  saying  the 
most  annoying  things  in  the  most  hearty  and 
jovial  tone  of  voice.  Matilda  and  Jane,  two 
young  ladies  connected  with  the  family,  are  also 
present.  Matilda  wears  a  double  eye-glass, 
through  which  she  watches  for  and  tries  to  see 
Uncle  John's  facetice :  she  is  rather  slow  at 
catching  them,  but,  having  thoroughly  realized 
one,  she  raises  her  head,  and  emits  a  short, 
sharp  laugh,  which  it  distresses  me  to  hear. 
Jane  had  no  special  characteristic,  except  a 
strong  propensity  for  blushing  ;  and  she  looks 
down  at  her  plate,  and  indulges  herself  at 
frequent  intervals. 

It  is  with  some  diffidence  that  I  refer  to  the 
other  occupant  of  the  room.  He — for  to  use  the 
third  person  in  some  degree  takes  off  the  appear- 
ance of  egotism  from  which  my  natural  modesty 
shrinks — is  a  young  man  of  some  four  and  twenty 
years  of  age,  who  has  now  risen  from  the  table 
and  leans  against  the  mantel-piece.  His  figure 
is  tall  and  slight,  his  face  pale,  and  fringed  with 
an  incipient  growth,  which  holds  out  ]3i'omise  of 


THE    SPOTTED    HORSE's    STORY.  167 

eventual  whiskers.  His  cliief  characteristic  has 
been  called  extreme  mildness. 

It  is  my  mother  who  speaks. 

"You  really  ought  to  go,  Cecil;  and  I'm 
sure  it  is  very  kind  indeed  of  the  squire  to  write 
as  he  does,  and  ask  you  to  Welwyn  Grange.  He 
is  one  of  your  father's  oldest  friends,  and  we  are 
anxious  that  you  should  make  his  acquaintance." 

"Of  course  he  ought  to  go,"  said  Uncle 
John;  "see  something  of  the  world,  and  get  a 
wife  to  stir  him  up." 

"  I  have  yet  to  learn,"  I  replied,  "  that  to 
'  stir  up  '  her  husband  is  among  the  duties  of  a 
wife ;  and  I  hope  that  no  wife  of  mine  would 
ever " 

"No  wife  of  yours!"  he  broke  in.  "Why^ 
how  many  wives  does  the  boy  want  to  have  ? 
He's  a  regular  Shah  of  Persia  !  I'm  ashamed  of 
you,  Cecil.  But  it's  always  the  way  with  those 
mild-looking  ones  !  " 

Jane  eagerly  seizes  the  opportunity  of  blush- 
ing deeply. 

"  Indeed,  I  wish  he  would  think  of  marrying 
and  settling  down,"  says  my  mother  fondly. 

"  He'll  think  about  it,  right  enough,"  Uncle 
John  replies.  "  It's  the  pluck  to  carry  it  through 
that's  wanting  in  his  case.  Do  you  think,  now, 
that  you  could  say  '  Bo  '  to  a  goose,  '  if  it  were 


168  RACECOUESE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

necessary  to  address  that  unmeaning  mono- 
syllable to  the  bird  in  question  ?  '  " 

Matilda  gives  vent  to  her  usual  modicum  of 
mirth. 

*'  The  set  at  the  squire's  is  not  one  with 
which  I  should  be  at  all  in  accord,  my  dear 
mother,"  I  explained.  "  They  think  of  nothing 
there  but  hunting  and  racing,  and  other  amuse- 
ments in  which  I  could  take  no  part.  I  have 
met  Hugh  Welwyn,  and  know  his  tastes  and 
habits." 

"  Hunting !  If  you  go  in  for  that,  you'll 
have  some  practical  illustrations  of  your  favourite 
'Diversions  of  Purley,' "  said  Uncle  John, 
adding  something  about  getting  "  up  early  "  in 
the  morning. 

Matilda  saw  it  at  once,  and  acted  accord- 
ingly. 

*'I  should  certainly  like  him  to  go,"  my 
mother  remarked.  "  He  has  been  out  so  little  ; 
and  it  is  a  great  pity,  when  he  possesses  every 
requisite  for  social  success — an  extended  know- 
ledge of  books — he  is  ready  of  conversation — a 
finished  singer " 

"  Yes,  I  much  prefer  his  singing  when  he's 
finished,'"  interpolated  my  dear  uncle.  But  I 
ignored  the  interruption. 

"  One  reason  why  I  wished  to  be  at  home 


THE    SPOTTED    HOESE's    STOKY.  169 

during  Christmas  week  was  because  I  believe 
Professor  Jerkius  is  coming  to  stay  with  our 
doctor ;  and  I  am  anxious  that  he  should  look  over 
my  specimens  and  read  the  manuscript  of  my  new 
pamphlet,"  I  said,  wavering  between  a  love  of 
home  and  a  desire  to  carry  out  the  maternal 
wishes. 

''  I  don't  expect  the  professor  will  be  down 
here,"  my  uncle  said,  looking  up  from  the 
country  paper  before  him  ;  ^'  and  that  leads  me 
to  think  that  you  may  have  formed  an  incorrect 
idea  of  society  at  Welwyn  Grange.  I  believe 
the  professor  will  be  down  there  next  week." 

"  To  lecture  at  the  Mechanics'  Institute,  I 
presume  ?  "  I  asked.  "  He  spoke  of  doing  so 
some  time  since." 

''  I  don't  know  what  he's  going  for ;  but  I 
am  sure  I've  heard  that  he  is  to  be  at  Welwyn," 
my  uncle  answered. 

My  father  also  expressed  a  wish  that  I  should 
go  ;  and  as  Uncle  John,  without  any  exertion  or 
personal  inconvenience,  could  have  made  me 
thoroughly  uncomfortable  during  the  long  stay 
which  he  proposed  to  make,  a  letter  was 
despatched  accepting  the  invitation,  and  I 
began  to  make  preparations  for  departure. 

It  was  on  the  20th  of  December  that  I  left 
home,    and   arrived  in   due  course    at    Welwyn 


170  EACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

Grange  about  seven  o'clock,  little  thinking  of 
the  ordeal  thi'ough  v^hich  I  had  to  pass  before 
quitting  the  house.  The  squire  came  into  the 
hall  to  receive  me. 

"  Cecil,  my  dear  boy,  I  am  delighted  to  see 
you  at  last,  and  welcome  you  to  the  Grange  !  " 
he  said,  in  the  kindest  possible  manner.  "  I'm 
sorry  that  Hugh  won't  be  down;  but  he  can't  help 
it,  of  course.  All  the  men  are  hunting  to-day,  but 
they'll  be  back  very  soon,  and  I  hope  you  vdll 
hnd  some  friends  amongst  them.  We  dine  at 
eight,  so  perhaps  you'd  like  to  see  your  room  ?  " 

I  thought  my  finding  friends  was  an  ex- 
ceedingly improbable  contingency,  but  gladly 
hastened  upstairs  to  dress  as  quickly  as  possible. 
It  did  not  take  long  to  complete  my  toilet ;  and 
on  descending  I  found  that  the  room  had  only 
one  occupant,  a  young  lady — if  those  prosaic 
words  can  lead  to  any  description  of  the  vision  of 
loveliness  which  encountered  my  admiring  eyes. 
Yenus  Aphrodite  in  sea-green  muslin  !  Her  face 
— but  how  can  I  hope  even  faintly  to  describe 
her,  or  the  smile  with  which  she  graciously 
acknowledged  my  bow  of  salutation  ?  I  was 
searching  for  that  right  expression  which  is 
always  so  very  difficult  to  find  just  at  the 
moment  when  you  want  it  most,  when  the 
squire  entered  the  room,  followed  by  several  of 


THE    SPOTTED   HOKSE's   STOEY.  171 

liis  guests.  He  addressed  my  divinity  as  Lucy, 
and  asked  if  she  had  enjoyed  her  drive  ;  but 
before  he  had  time  to  introduce  me,  the 
announcement  of  dinner  sent  us  trooping  to  the 
dining-room. 

It  would  take  too  much  space  to  give  a 
detailed  list  of  the  party  seated  round  the  table. 
I  had  taken  down  a  lady  with  abundant  black 
hair  and  superabundant  eyebrows,  who  seemed 
much  surprised  at  my  inability  to  furnish  her  with 
the  information  she  sought  upon  a  variety  of 
topics,  chiefly  of  an  equestrian  or  sporting 
nature.  On  my  other  side  was  a  sister  of  the 
squire's,  a  lady  of  uncertain  age,  abrupt  habits, 
and  Amazonian  proportions,  who  being  copiously 
decked  with  "bugles  "  and  large  beads  of  other 
varieties,  rattled  loudly  whenever  she  turned  to 
speak  to  me,  as  she  did  with  much  decision  at 
frequent  intervals.  I  am  a  nervous  man.  If 
people  jerk  they  startle  me,  and  the  calm  enjoy- 
ment of  my  dinner  was  seriously  interfered  with. 

Nearly  opposite  to  me  was  the  divine  Lucy, 
seated  next  to  a  good-natured-looking  young 
man  whose  name  I  ascertained  to  be  Forester ; 
but  amongst  all  the  others  there  was  none  that 
I  knew.  The  conversation,  too,  was  for  the 
most  part  as  strange  to  me  as  the  guests,  the 
ladies  taking  an  interest  in  matters  of  which  I 


172  EACEOOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

was  wholly  ignorant ;  but  what  surj)rised  me 
most  was  the  way  in  which  I  was  constantly 
begged,  in  terms  which  conveyed  no  definite 
images  to  my  mind,  to  give  information  on 
subjects  of  which  I  had  not  the  vaguest  know- 
ledge— my  utter  inability  to  answer  apparently 
causing  much  surprise  to  my  interrogators. 
Now  and  then,  however,  the  squire  made  a 
comparatively  intelligible  remark,  and  a  short, 
quick-eyed  little  man  at  the  other  end  of  the 
table  occasionally  spoke  of  a  matter  with  which 
I  had  some  acquaintance. 

"  Why  do  I  call  them  '  Female  Failures  ?  '  " 
he  said.  "Because  that  is  the  best  title  I  can 
think  of  to  describe  the  class  about  which  we  are 
speaking.  Dej^end  upon  it,  whenever  a  woman 
tries  to  take  the  place  of  a  man,  and  adopt  the 
cant  about  '  woman's  rights  ' — by  which  she 
means  woman's  wrongs — it  is  a  pretty  sure  sign 
that  she  has  good  reason  to  despair  of  holding 
her  own  with  her  own  sex.  As  for  a  definition 
of  the  word  *  lady  ' — I  prefer  the  term  '  gentle- 
woman '  myself — 1  should  say,  '  a  refined  speci- 
men of  the  superior  variety  of  the  human 
race.'  " 

"It  is  a  singular  fact  with  regard  to  the 
superiority  of  the  female,"  I  gallantly  added — 
glad  to  show  that  there  were  some  subjects  about 


THE    SPOTTED   HOESE's    STORY.  173 

which  I  knew  something — "that  a  scientilic 
person  who  has  recently  experimented  upon 
large  numbers  of  Papilio  asterias,Sind  other  sorts 
of  butterflies,  concludes  that  the  larvce,  if  under- 
fed, are  almost  sure  to  develop  into  males, 
whereas  if  they  are  freely  fed,  they  are  certain  to 
become  females."  The  remark  caused  general 
attention  to  be  directed  to  me  ;  but  I  am  quite 
at  a  loss  to  understand  why  two  young  gentlemen 
should  have  designated  it  "  awfully  good,"  and 
accepted  it  as  a  joke.  '  "  Even  in  oysters,"  I  con- 
tinued, "  conchologists  have,  I  believe,  decided 
that  the  female  is  the  larger  and  plumper.  You 
are,  of  course,  aware,  by  the  way,  that  our  native 
oysters  are  the  best  of  all.  Catullus  terms  the 
Hellespont  cceteris  ostreosior  oris,  but  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  his  countrymen  gave  our  breeds 
a  very  decided  preference." 

I  could  in  no  wise  account  for  the  looks  of 
blank  astonishment  which  were  levelled  at  me 
throughout  the  remainder  of  the  meal,  nor  could 
I  tell  what  induced  Captain  Packenham,  a  young 
Hussar,  to  take  the  vacant  chair  by  my  side 
when  the  ladies  had  retired,  and  to  slap  me  on 
the  back  with  a  vigour  which  brought  tears  to 
my  eyes,  and  made  me  swallow  a  large  piece  of 
preserved  ginger  with  dangerous  suddenness. 

"What  are  you  driving  at,  old  fellow  ?"  he 


174  EACECOUESE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

asked  in  a  tone  of  mystification. — "You  know 
my  brother,  Tom  Packenham,  very  well,  I 
believe— indeed,  I  thoiigbt  I'd  met  yon  myself  at 
Stockbridge. — What's  the  meaning  of  all  this 
lark  about  the  oysters  and  the  butterflies,  and 
the  other  fellow — Ca — what's  his  name  ?  Is  it 
a  wily  conundrum,  or  something  out  of  ^liEsop's 
fables,  or  what  ?  " 

I  was  silent,  not  at  all  understanding  his 
hilarity. 

"  What's  your  little  game  ?  "  he  continued. 

"  I'm  rather  fond  of  chess,"  I  answered, 
thinking  that  he  might  not  care  for  billiards, 
about  which  some  of  the  others  were  talking. 
"Do  you  play  ?  " 

He  gazed  at  me  for  a  moment,  and  then 
began  a  conversation  with  his  neighbour  on  a 
fresh  subject,  for  I  overheard  casual  sentences 
about  some  one  who  was  "  awfully  cropped  at 
the  Warwick  Meeting — poor  devil !  seems  quite 
to  have  lost  his  head  sometimes." 

I  had  learned  during  dinner  that  the  Pro- 
fessor was  really  expected,  though  I  much 
wondered  what  could  induce  him  to  join  such  a 
party ;  and  as  I  was  not  interested  in  some 
steeplechases  which  were  to  take  place  next  day, 
I  seized  the  earliest  opportunity  of  making  my 
way  to  the  drawing-room. 


THE  SPOTTED  HORSE  S  STORY.        175 

On  the  celerity  with  which  the  evening 
gHded  by ;  on  the  manner  in  which  my  divinity 
enraptured  me  by  her  singing ;  and  on  the 
happiness  I  enjoyed  as  we  turned  over  a  book  of 
prints  together,  I  will  not  dilate.  The  squire's 
sister  seemed  less  metallic,  and  everything 
brighter  ;  and  when  I  had  retired  to  my  room  it 
was  with  the  certainty  that  I  should  eternally 
adore  Lucy,  whose  presence  compensated  ten 
thousand  times  for  any  slight  drawbacks  I  might 
have  to  experience  from  uncongenial  companions 
or  any  other  cause. 

As  I  descended  the  stairs  next  morning  I 
found  that  the  squire  was  awaiting  me  at  the 
bottom. 

"  You'll  want  to  be  quiet  this  morning,  Cecil, 
I  know,"  he  said  "and  I  thought  that  you  and 
Forester  and  Packenham  would  prefer  break- 
fasting together  in  the  Oak-room,  and  getting  off 
in  good  time.  Dacre  is  going  too,  by-the-waj^ 
He  rides  his  own  mare  in  the  Handicap  Sweep- 
stakes." 

I  did  not  catch  the  drift  of  his  speech,  and 
expressed  my  inability  to  do  so. 

"  They  will  want  to  look  over  the  course,  yon 
know,  and  I  thought  that  you  would  like  to 
accompany  them,"  he  explained;  and  I  was 
glad  to  consent,  having  taken  rather  a  fancy 
to  Forester. 


17G  EACECOUESE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

We  soon  disposed  of  breakfast,  and  after 
getting  into  a  dogcart,  an  hour's  travelling 
brought  us  to  the  scene  of  action,  where  we 
dismounted  and  started  off  to  walk  over  the 
ground,  which  was  marked  out  by  white  flags 
stuck  in  the  hedges. 

"  Good  hunting  fences,  they  seem,"  Packen- 
ham  said,  as  we  scrambled  through  a  huge  bush 
which  it  seemed  impossible  to  me  that  any  man 
could  go  at  and  live  to  tell  the  tale,  supposing 
his  horse  were  weak-minded  enough  to  try  it. 
"  That's  all  right  !  This  is  rather  nasty — awk- 
w^ard  drop — don't  you  think  so  ?  "  he  asked  me 
as  we  came  to  a  large  timber  barricade. 

I  repHed  that  I  did  not  suppose  a  foot  or  so 
more  or  less  made  much  difference  in  the  long 
run. 

"  Not  to  you,  perhaps,"  he  said. 

And  I  agreed  with  him  ;  for  beyond  a  probable 
intensification  of  the  chilly  feeling,  which  always 
runs  down  my  back  when  I  see  people  doing 
anything  exceptionally  rash,  I  was  not  par- 
ticularly interested.  I  only  knew  that  I  would 
cheerfully  have  settled  down  and  dreamed  away 
existence  in  the  meadow  where  we  stood,  if 
there  had  been  no  other  way  of  making  an  exit 
than  jumping  those  posts  and  rails.  The  way 
in   which   one   becomes   habituated   to   strange 


THE     SPOTTED    HORSE's    STORY.  177 

positions  is  indeed  wonderful.  How  I  should 
have  accepted  such  an  anecdote  the  day  before  I 
do  not  know,  but  now  I  only  smiled  feebly  at  the 
story  which  Packenham  related  of  his  brother's 
horse,  Thunderbolt,  whose  approaching  defeat  the 
narrator  had  foreseen  on  a  recent  occasion  by  a 
proceeding  on  the  animal's  part  which  seemed  to 
me  simply  marvellous.  "  We  did  get  over  the 
w^ater-jump,"  Packenham  explained;  ^^hut  then 
he  dropped  his  hind  legs,  and  I  felt  that  he  was 
done  with  for  that  journey  at  any  rate."  That 
he  was  not  done  with  for  all  subsequent  journeys 
— except  the  long  one  to  the  grave — seemed  to 
me  a  most  valuable  record  of  the  progress  of 
veterinary  science. 

"  Over  the  bank,  and  then  to  the  left  down 
the  hill,  and  round  here  to  the  brook,"  Forester 
continued. 

And  Dacre,  a  soft  little  man  with  flaxen  hair 
and  blue  eyes,  who  looked  more  suitable  for  a 
Shetland  pony  than  a  racehorse,  feebly  expressed 
an  opinion  that  the  stream  was  a  great  deal  too 
big,  and  he  really  didn't  see  how  he  was  to  get 
over  more  than  half  of  it  at  a  time. 

''It  is  a  big  place,"  Packenham   admitted. 

"  It's  what  poor  C used  to  say  was  'like  a 

family  vault — when  you  once  get  in,  yon  don't 
get  out  again  in  a  hurry.'  " 

12 


178  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

"  More  tim^ber,"  he  continued,  as  we  went 
on ;  "  five  feet  of  it,  I  should  think. — You  take 
it  coolly  enough,"  he  said,  turning  to  me  ;  "  hut 
it's  all  the  same  to  you,  I  suppose  !  Why,  Tom 
says  that  the  park  palings  you  jumped  at 
Hey  thorp  was  over  six." 

I  did  not  ask  whether  Tom  was  at  present  an 
inmate  of  Colney  Hatch  or  Hanwell,  or  whether 
he  was  being  treated  privately  for  what  must 
have  been  an  extremely  acute  case  of  mania, 
unless  Tom  was  given  over  to  an  unparalleled 
perversion  of  the  truth ;  for  it  occurred  to  me 
that  this  was  probably  another  of  those  technical 
jokes  couched  in  foreign  phraseology,  so  many  of 
which  had  been  lost  upon  me  during  the 
morning^;  and  I  only  tried  to  smile  as  intelli- 
gently as  I  could  while  Packenham  took 
another  rather  searching  survey  of  my  features 
before  we  moved  on  to  inspect  the  remaining 
fences. 

I  was  quite  resigned  by  this  time,  and  had 
hardly  any  astonishment  left  for  Dacre's  story 
about  a  nasty  bullfinch  he  had  once  come  upon 
suddenly  when  out  hunting,  whose  unaccountable 
proceedings  had  caused  a  series  of  disasters 
which  placed  the  bird  before  me  in  an  entu^ely 
new  light.  A  fierce  bullfinch  perched  upon  a 
fence    and    setting   a  whole    hunt   at   defiance 


THE   SPOTTED  HORSE's    STORY.  179 

seemed  rather  a  subject  for  a  nightmare  than  for 
the  garish  light  of  day. 

"  Over  the  hurdle  into  the  racecourse,  and 
finish.  It  will  be  a  good  meeting ;  look  how 
quickly  the  people  are  arriving,  and  there's  our 
carriage — just  opposite  the  stand,"  Packenham 
said.  "  It's  time  for  us  to  dress  for  the  Handi- 
cap, though,  Dacre,"  he  added,  looking  at  his 
watch.  "  See  you  fellows  again  presently  ;  " 
and  they  turned  aside,  while  Forester  and  I 
made  our  way  up  the  course  to  join  our  party, 
prominent  amongst  which  I  was  rejoiced  to  see 
Lucy,  her  sky-blue  bonnet  contrasting  pleasantly 
with  the  stern-looking  head-gear  of  her  com- 
panion, the  squire's  sister. 

To  be  balanced  precariously  on  one  leg  upon 
the  tire  of  a  wheel  is  not  at  all  a  comfortable 
position  under  ordinary  circumstances ;  but  as 
the  carriage  was  full,  and  hung  high,  it  was  the 
best  point  of  vantage  I  could  find  for  talking  to 
Lucy,  and  from  there  I  saw  the  first  race  won 
by  an  animal  which  the  squire  pointed  out  to  me 
as  having  "good  hocks  right  under  him"  —  a 
position  in  which  I  imagined  all  hocks,  good, 
bad,  or  indifferent,  might  invariably  be  found  by 
people  who  knew  where  to  look  for  them  and 
could  derive  any  pleasure  from  the  inspection — 
and  "  good  arms,"  a  statement  for  which  I  was 
not  prepared. 


180  RACECOURSE    AND   COVERT    SIDE. 

"It's  almost  time  to  get  ready.  Will  you 
come  with  me  ?  "  Forester  said,  as  they  began  to 
clear  the  course  for  the  second  race. 

My  divinity  had  gone  off  to  the  stand  with  a 
number  of  the  party  while  I  was  talking  to  the 
squire,  and,  not  unwilling  to  penetrate  into  the 
mysteries  of  a  racecourse,  I  strolled  away  with 
Forester. 

Just  as  we  reached  the  second  fence,  a  hedge 
with  a  small  ditch  on  each  side  of  it,  Dacre, 
attired  in  a  sky-blue  jacket,  rode  out  of  a  shed 
near  the  track  where  his  horse  had  been  saddled. 
He  cantered  up,  and  as  I  gazed  with  astonish- 
ment at  his  easy  fashion  of  managing  the  fidgety 
little  mare  he  bestrode,  the  animal  rose  at  the 
fence,  just  skimmed  the  top  twigs  and  landed 
lightly  near  to  us  :  her  rider  scarcely  swinging 
in  the  saddle,  and  turning  his  head,  almost  before 
his  mare's  feet  touched  the  ground,  towards  a 
crowd  which  had  assembled  round  a  large,  power- 
ful, hot-looking,  chestnut  horse,  which  had 
rather  upset  the  equanimity  of  his  surrounders 
by  launching  out  a  mighty  kick  with  his 
enormous  hind  legs. 

"  He  is  a  beauty,  a  real  beauty ;  and  they 
say  as  good  as  he  looks — though  you  know  more 
about  that  than  any  one  else,  I  suppose," 
Forester  remarked. 


THE  SPOTTED   HORSE's    STORY.  181 

"Who  is  a  beauty  ?  "  I  iuquired,  not  at  all 
understanding  the  position. 

"  Why,  the  Professor,"  he  answered. 
"  Haven't  you  been  to  see  him  ?  " 

"I  have  been  to  see  him  very  often,"  I 
replied.  "  He's  a  great  friend  of  mine,  and  I 
stay  with  him  a  good  deal ;  but  I'm  surprised  to 
hear  you  call  him  a  beauty.  He's  so  bald,  and 
though  he  says  that  the  blue  spectacles  assist  his 
sight,  I  don't  think  they  are,  aesthetically,  a 
favourable  addition  to  his  appearance." 

Forester  appeared  to  be  quite  staggered. 

*'  Blue  spectacles  and  a  bald  head  !  My  dear 
fellow,  are  you  dreaming?"  and  he  burst  out 
laughing.  "Excuse  me,"  he  continued,  "but 
the  idea  of  a  racehorse  with  blue  spectacles 
and  a  bald  head  is  too  delicious  !  " 

At  this  moment  we  were  joined  by  Packen- 
ham  and  Dacre. 

"  Mr.  Forester,"  I  said  with  solemnity,  "  will 
you  do  me  the  great  favour  of  explaining  what 
you  mean?  " 

"  What  I  mean  !  My  dear  fellow,  what  do 
you  mean  ?  There's  your  horse  waiting  for  you 
— you've  surely  ridden  him  often  enough  before, 
haven't  you  ?  You  spoke  of  him  familiarly 
enough  last  night,  at  any  rate — and  we  shall 
be  late  if  we  don't  go  and  weigh  out." 


182  RACECOUESE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

"  May  I  earnestly  entreat  you  to  answer  me 
one  question,  Mr.  Forester?"  I  said.  "For 
whom  do  you  take  me  for  ?  " 

"Why,  for  Charhe  Cecil  of  the  14th,  who 
won  the  Grand  Annual  at  Chasingford  last  week, 
and  who  has  come  down  here  to  ride  Hugh 
Welwyn's  horse,  the  Professor,  for  the  Welwyn 
Cup,"  he  replied. 

I  never  knew  to  what  an  extent  cold  per- 
spiration could  pour  down  one's  back  until  that 
moment. 

"  Then  there  is  a  ghastly  error  somewhere," 
I  answered.  "  My  name  is  Cecil  Yernington. 
I  never  heard  of  the  Grand  Annual,  nor  of 
Chasingford ;  and  the  gentleman  for  whom  I 
was  asking  last  night  is  not  a  horse  at  all, 
but  Gustavus  Jerkins,  Professor  of  Palaeon- 
tology." 

Forester  appeared  wonder-stricken,  and  Dacre 
smiled ;  and  I  began  to  understand  another  of 
Uncle  John's  jokes. 

"  I  see  now,"  said  Packenham,  after  a  roar  of 
laughter  more  hearty  than  polite.  "  I  wondered 
where  Charlie  Cecil  had  been  picking  up  all  that 
about  Catullus  and  the  rest  of  it — •!  thought 
Catullus  was  a  horse,  and  couldn't  remember 
where  he'd  run.  What  a  lark!  But,  I  say, 
what  the  deuce  is  to  be  done  ?     You  must  ride 


THE  SPOTTED  HORSe'   STORY.        183 

him  now,  at  any  rate,  for  we  certainly  can't  get 
any  one  else  ?  " 

''It  is  quite  impossible  that  I  can  ride  a  race, 
Captain  Packenham,"  I  replied.  "I  never  did 
such  a  thing  in  my  life.  There  can  sm-ely  be  no 
difficulty  in  finding  a  rider  amongst  the  party — 
you,  or  Mr.  Dacre  ?  " 

''  We  both  have  mounts,  and  so  has  Forester, 
and  there's  not  another  man  at  the  Grange  who 
can  ride  the  weight." 

"  Hire  a  man — a  jockey,"  I  suggested. 

"  Impossible  ;  professionals  can't  ride  for  the 
Cup,"  he  answered. 

"  I  don't  see  any  difficulty  about  riding," 
Dacre  said.  "  What's  to  prevent  you  ?  There's 
your  horse,  and  the  weight's  all  right,  and  you've 
been  over  the  ground." 

"  Miss  Lucy  will  break  her  heart,"  Packenham 
continued ;  "  she  said  she  would  if  you  didn't 
win,  and  has  been  plunging  on  you  to  a  ruinous 
extent :  bales  of  gloves  she's  got  on,  and  if  you 
don't  pull  them  off  for  her  she'll  never  forgive 
you.  I  think  that  you've  got  a  glorious  oppor- 
tunity. The  Professor's  an  awfully  easy  horse 
to  ride — you  have  nothing  to  do  but  sit  still 
and  let  him  have  his  head,  and  there  you 
are!" 

It  was  all  very  well  to  say  ''  let  him  have  his 


184  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

head,  and  there  you  are."  The  question  seemed 
to  me  rather  where  I  should  be  if  I  endeavoured 
to  interfere  with  his  possession  of  that  useful 
member.  As  for  my  having  "  nothing  to  do  but 
to  sit  still,"  calling  to  remembrance  the  size  of 
some  of  the  obstacles  we  had  to  cross,  I  cannot 
put  it  more  mildly  than  by  saying  that,  under 
the  circumstances,  I  did  not  see  how  it  was  to 
be  done. 

Packenham  interrupted  my  reflections. 

"  Come  on,  old  fellow,  or  we  shall  be  late — in 
fact,  we  are  rather  so  already,"  he  said. 

Quite  incapable  of  resistance,  I  passively 
followed  them  into  a  dressing-room,  where  they 
supplied  me  with  a  pair  of  leathers  and  boots, 
and  assisted  me  into  one  of  Hugh  Welwyn's 
crimson  jackets  and  vivid  racing  caps. 
Almost  oblivious  of  the  world  in  general,  I  was 
seated  with  some  difficulty  in  a  swinging  scale, 
while  in  my  luckless  lap  was  piled  a  confused 
heap  of  saddle,  stirrup-irons,  bridles,  girths,  and 
whip ;  and  then,  hoping  that  some  of  the  colour 
from  my  jacket  was  reflected  into  a  face  which 
must  have  been  more  than  pallid,  if  extreme 
anxiety  has  the  effect  which  is  usually  attributed 
to  it,  I  issued  forth,  and  looked  on  with  some 
trepidation — with  a  good  deal  of  trepidation,  if 
the    truth    must    be    told — while   the   gigantic 


THE   SPOTTED  HOESE's   STOKY.  185 

animal  I  was  to  bestride  was  being  decked  for 
the  chase. 

Meanwhile  my  friends  had  joyously  accoutred 
themselves,  and  were  soon  eogaged  in  super- 
intending the  toilets  of  their  respective  steeds 
previously  to  mounting.  I  watched  Packenham's 
horse  start  with  those  two  short  strides  which 
some  animals  take  before  getting  into  full  swing  ; 
and  then,  finding  a  groom  near  me,  I  gave  him 
my  leg  after  a  fashion  I  had  observed  in  Dacre, 
and  scrambled  to  the  saddle  ;  feeling  more  utterly 
abroad  than  I  should  fancy  any  one  who  has 
ever  been  brought  in  contact  with  horses  can 
have  done  since  Phaeton  began  to  find  things 
going  wrong  in  his  ill-advised  journey. 

Love  is  a  very  powerful  divinity.  He  "  con- 
quers all  things,"  "rules  the  court,  the  camp, 
the  grove,"  "  makes  the  world  go  round,"  and 
performs  a  variety  of  other  difficult  feats,  not 
the  least  among  which  was  his  inducting  me  to 
my  present  position ;  but  had  I  only  known  what 
my  sensations  would  have  been  when  I  was  once 
insecurely  seated  on  that  small  and  exceedingly 
uncomfortable  saddle,  he  would  assuredly  have 
been  compelled  to  use  every  artifice  he  was 
acquainted  with  to  keep  me  there,  if  I  had  only 
seen  any  reasonable  likelihood  of  getting  down 
again   in    safety.      Our    heads,    however,    were 


186  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

facing  up  the  course  towards  the  stand,  and  my 
horse,  shaking  his  bit  and  jerking  at  the  reins,  was 
exhibiting  an  anxiety  to  be  off,  with  which  I  had 
no  sympathy ;  but  as  I  felt  it  would  be  quite 
useless  for  me  to  contend  against  his  wishes  on 
the  subject,  I  only  made  one  desperate  effort  to 
sit  still,  and  gave  his  head ! 

He  took  two  springs  in  advance,  and — 
stopped  dead  ! 

Stopped  dead.  Then  made  a  few  limping 
hops  forward,  and  was  still.  Before  I  had 
reaHzed  the  position,  Packenham  and  Dacre, 
returning  from  their  preliminary,  and  cantering 
down  to  the  starting-post,  came  up  to  where  I 
sat,  contented  but  surprised. 

"  By  Jove !  stopped  just  as  if  he  had  been 
shot !  "  the  former  said  to  the  groom,  who  came 
out  into  the  course  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 

The  beast  tried  again  to  proceed,  but  the 
effort  was  vain. 

"  Broken  down  !  No  go,  sir,"  the  man  who 
had  saddled  him  said  in  tones  of  deep  regret. 
"  I've  been  afraid  of  that  leg  for  some  time,  but 
Mr.  Hugh  would  have  it  that  it  was  nothing.  It's 
all  up,  sir,  this  journey,  at  any  rate.  Just  the 
way  Mephistopheles  went  with  me  when  I  was 
riding  him  at  Liverpool — shot  his  fetlock  joint, 
he  did." 


THE    SPOTTED    HOESE'S    STOEY.  187 

I  faintly  murmured  something  about  the 
danger  of  having  firearms  in  a  stable,  and  then 
followed  an  elaborate  disquisition  on  a  variety  of 
subjects  about  which  I  was  in  a  state  of  Egyptian 
darkness.  "Frogs"  and  "thrushes"  appeared 
to  play  an  important  part  in  the  conversation, 
though  I  could  no  more  understand  their  bearing 
on  the  matter  than  I  could  the  aggressive 
behaviour  of  the  "bullfinch,"  whose  strange 
proceedings  Dacre  had  narrated.  I  only  gathered 
that  the  catastrophe  was  not  unexampled,  but 
quite  failed  to  see  how  "  coffin-bones  "  (whatever 
idea  the  latter  extremely  unpleasant  title  might 
convey  to  the  stable  mind)  bore  upon  the  matter. 
However,  I  was  apparently  expected  to  dismount ; 
and  though  the  news  seemed  too  good  to  be  true 
— the  danger  to  have  passed  away  too  wonderfully 
— I  got  off  with  quite  as  much  alacrity  as  was 
compatible  with  the  dignity  of  a  disappointed 
gentleman-rider ;  and  so  amongst  the  pitying 
comments  of  the  crowd,  and  with  as  profound  an 
expression  of  regret  as  I  could  conjure  up  on  the 
spur  of  the  moment,  I  followed  my  late  terror's 
limping  footsteps  to  the  paddock. 

I  had  never  before  so  fully  realized  the 
pleasant  sensation  of  being  in  my  own  clothes, 
as  when,  after  discarding  my  unwonted  habili- 
ments,   I    made    my   way   to    the    stand,    aud 


188  KACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

received  the  condolences  of  Lucy  and  the  rest 
on  what  they  were  pleased  to  term  "  such  a  very 
unfortunate  accident,"  and  was  greeted  by  my 
host  in  my  proper  character.  He  had  confounded 
me  with  Cecil  of  the  14th,  a  gentleman-rider  of 
celebrity  and  a  friend  of  Hugh  Welwyn's,  whose 
horse,  the  Professor,  the  gallant  officer  was  to 
have  ridden.  A  telegram  had  been  waiting  for 
Hugh  for  some  time,  and  it  afterwards  appeared 
that  it  had  been  sent  by  Cecil,  and  contained 
expressions  of  his  regret  at  being  unable  to  come 
down  and  fulfil  his  engagement ;  but  Hugh  had 
not  made  his  expected  visit  to  the  Grange,  and 
so  had  not  received  it.  My  letter  of  accept- 
ance had  led  the  squire  to  believe  that  I  was 
to  appear  at  Welwyn  on  the  21st,  instead  of 
the  20th. 

Miss  Welwyn  was  more  than  kind,  and  Lucy, 
profuse  in  her  regrets  at  the  sad  misfortune  to 
the  poor  horse.  She  was  just  making  a  pretty 
little  speech  about  my  kindness  in  so  readily 
undertaking  to  solve  the  difficulty,  when  the 
Cup  horses,  having  started,  came  in  sight ;  Dacre, 
on  a  little  chestnut,  which  some  one  described  as 
wiry,  having  it  all  his  own  way.  Forester  second, 
on  a  large  bay  horse.  Packeuham,  I  afterwards 
found,  had  been  left  in  the  brook. 

I   was   not    sorry  when,  the   last  two  races 


THE    SPOTTED   HOESE's    STORY.  189 

having  been  nm,  it  was  time  to  mount  the  home- 
ward-going dog-cart ;  for  the  keen  air  to  some 
extent  stilled  the  flutter  of  my  over-wrought 
brain.  About  one  thing  I  was  thoroughly  deter- 
mined— I  would  let  Lucy  know  the  sentiments 
with  which  she  had  inspired  me.  I  had  been 
acquainted  with  her  but  a  short  time,  it  was 
true,  a  very  short  time,  if  you  will ;  but  love 
does  not  keep  count  of  hours  by  the  reckoning  of 
ordinary  mortals,  and  as  I  jogged  on  with  Forester 
for  companion  on  the  back  seat,  I  could  not 
refrain  from  confiding  my  hopes  and  fears  to 
him.  Under  the  impression  that  communion  of 
enjoyment  might  conduce  to  an  increase  of 
sympathetic  feelings  on  his  part,  I  accepted  a 
cigar  from  his  case — a  large,  thick,  dark-coloured 
cigar — and  did  not  accidentally  drop  it  into  the 
road  until  after,  what  seemed  to  me,  unaccustomed 
as  I  was  to  the  use  of  tobacco,  a  very  consider- 
able lapse  of  time. — I  scarcely  ever  remember 
enjoying  anything  less  than  that  cigar. 

I  had  observed  by  the  familiarity  of  their 
intercourse  that  Forester  knew  Lucy  well — • 
indeed  I  had  almost  feared  rivalry  from  him,  and 
so  was  delighted  to  learn  that,  so  far  as  he  knew, 
her  heart  was  disengaged. 

There  was  a  large  party  assembled  at  the 
Grange   that  evening,  but  nothing  occurred  of 


190  EACECOURSE    AND   COVERT    SIDE. 

interest  in  the  matter  which  interested  me  most. 
Lucy  seemed  more  radiant  than  ever,  and  I 
became  more  and  more  in  love  ;  and  the  night's 
reflections  only  added  fuel  to  the  flame. 

The  sun  shone  brightly  next  morning  as  I 
left  my  room  a  little  before  breakfast  time,  and 
emerging  into  the  keen,  frosty  air,  found  Forester 
engaged  in  jumping  a  young  horse  over  some 
hurdles  in  a  field  near  the  gardens.  He  dis- 
mounted and  surrendered  the  animal  to  a  groom 
when  I  appeared.  '  Joining  me,  we  strolled 
together  towards  the  house,  and  as  we  neared  it, 
I  was  infinitely  gratified  to  see  Lucy  and  the 
Squire's  sister  entering  one  of  the  hot-houses  at 
a  little  distance  from  us. 

"There  she  is!"  I  said,  enraptured.  "Ah, 
Forester,  see  how  the  sun  gleams  in  her  golden 
hair  !  " 

"  In  her — I  beg  your  pardon  ?  "  he  said 
inquiringly. 

"  Golden  !  It  is  golden,  I  maintain — the 
true,  perfect  shade  of  gold  !  "  I  answered. 

"  Well,  I  dare  say  it  is,  now  you  mention  it," 
he  replied  musingly;  "though  I  hardly  think 
that  I  should  have  expressed  it  quite  in  that 
way  myself." 

"  And  you  would  not,  perhaps,  call  her  eyes 
blue — the  watchet,   azure  hue  of  the  cloudless 


THE    SPOTTED   HOESe's    STORY.  191 

heavens?"  I  asked  again,  with  triumphant 
enthusiasm. 

''Her  eyes  the Well,  'pon  my  word  !  I 

really  hardly  think  that  I  should,"  he  replied. 
''  I  suppose  lovers  see  these  sort  of  things 
differently — that  mnst  he  it." 

"  x\nd  how  should  you  describe  her?"  I 
inquired.     "  What  should  you  call  her  hair  ?  " 

''  Well,  the  fact  is,  I  always  took  her  hair  to 
be  pretty  nearly  black,  and  her  eyes  much  about 
the  same  colour,"  he  answered. 

''Her  hair — her  hair  to  be  what?  "  I  asked 

in     amazement:      "  My     Lucy's    hair    bla 

Why,  what  can  you  mean  ?  Of  whom  are  you 
speaking  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  Miss  Lncy,"  he  replied,  "the 
squire's  sister.  Isn't  that  the  lady  you  were 
talking  about  ?  " 

"  Of  Miss  Lucy,  the  squ Why,  Forester, 

what  on  earth  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  asked  in  alarm. 

"  That  is  the  only  Miss  Lucy  on  the 
premises  with  whom  I'm  acquainted.  Weren't 
you  speaking  of  her  ?  I  thought,  of  course,  you 
were.  Every  one  always  calls  her  Miss  Lucy, 
though,  as  her  sister's  married,  she  is  really 
Miss  Welwyn.  I  wondered,  too,  when  you  said 
something  about  her  being  '  young  and  fresh  ' 
last  night,  because  she  hasn't  been  particularly 


192  RACECOUESE  AND    COVERT   SIDE. 

young  for  some  time,  I  should  imagine,"  he 
answered,  looking  at  me  with  an  expression  of 
surprise  on  his  face. 

"And  have  you  been  paving  the  way — been 
saying  to  her  the  things " 

*'  That  you  asked  me  to  say  as  we  drove 
home  yesterday  ?  "  he  interrupted.  "  Of  course 
I  have.  I  told  her  just  what  I  thought  you 
wanted  me  to,  and  she  seemed  very  pleased 
about  it." 

"Did  she? — But  surely,"  I  urged,  "it  was 
by  the  name  of  Lucy  that  I  heard  you  and  the 
squire — I  cannot  have  made  a  mistake  ! — I  am 
certain,  I  could  swear  that  you  all " 

At  this  moment  the  two  ladies  emerged  at 
the  end  of  the  greenhouse  and  came  towards  us, 
my  Lucy  looking  sweet  and  charming  beyond 
measure  in  laei  piqua7ite  morning  dress. 

"I'm  much  afraid  that  we  have  made  another 
mistake,  somewhere  or  other,"  Forester  said 
just  before  they  came  into  earshot.  "  I  imagined 
that  you  meant  Miss  Lucy  Welwyn,  of  course, 
for  there  is  certainly  no  other  Lucy  here  that  I 
know  of — except  that  one,  by  the  way,"  and  he 
pointed  to  my  enchantress,  "  and  she,  I  infinitely 
rejoice  to  say,  has  been  my  wife  for  the  last  six 
months." 

Letters  requiring  my  immediate  return  home 


THE    SPOTTED  HORSe's    STORY.  193 

somehow  arrived  by  the  morning  post ;  and  as, 
after  making  a  promise  of  returning  speedily — 
which  I  had  not  the  remotest  intention  of  keep- 
ing— I  drove  to  the  station,  the  last  thing  I  saw 
connected  with  Welwyn  Grange  was  the  Pro- 
fessor, standing  in  a  straw-yard,  surrounded  by  a 
bevy  of  men  whose  aspects  bespoke  their  constant 
intercourse  with  the  horse,  and  their  familiarity 
with  those  sports  in  which,  rather  than  participate, 
I  would  almost  consent  to  marry  the  wrong  Miss 
Lucy. 

''  That,"    said   the    Spotted   Horse   in  con- 
clusion, *'  is  my  tale." 


13 


AN  OFF  CHANCE. 

The  breakfast  table  in  No.  2  private  room  of  the 
Queen's  Hotel,  Beachington-on-Sea,  was  tempt- 
ingly spread.  A  grand  lobster,  evidently  not 
long  a  stranger  to  his  ocean  home,  contrasted 
with  the  snowy  tablecloth  and  the  crisp  green 
parsley,  which  set  off  his  vividly  red  hue ;  the 
dehcate  pink  of  a  dish  of  big  prawns  ;  the  golden 
yolks  of  the  poached  eggs  on  the  perfectly 
grilled  ham  gratified  the  eye  and  gave  promise 
of  other  gratifications  to  come  ;  while  a  couple  of 
entree  dishes,  whose  silver  covers  were  not 
opened,  looked  as  if  they  had  something  appetiz- 
ing beneath.  Altogether  the  table  was  more 
like  that  of  a  well-appointed  country  house  than 
an  hotel,  except  that  before  the  windows  the 
sea  sparkled  on  the  other  side  of  the  broad 
roadway  and  esplanade ;  a  pier  ran  out  a  long 
way  into  the  water ;  and  from  the  front  of  the 
building  cries  of  "  Card  or  London  paper,  sir?  " 
from  a  host  of  boys,  together  with  the  aspect  of 
some  of  the  men  who  walked  or  drove  along  by 


AN    OFF    CHANCE.  195 

the  sea,  showed  that  a  race  meeting  was  on 
somewhere  in  the  neighbourhood.  It  was,  in 
fact,  the  Southdown  Meeting,  the  last  of  the 
three  which  make  up  the  Downshire  fortnight. 

The  three  occupants  of  the  room  for  whom 
the  breakfast  was  spread  had  done  different 
justice — or  injustice — to  it.  Wynnerly,  the  ac- 
comphshed  gentleman  rider,  had  not  dared  do 
more  than  munch  half  a  dozen  prawns  and  a 
scrap  of  dry  toast,  for  he  had  to  ride  10  st.  7  lb. 
in  the  course  of  the  day,  and  feared  putting  on 
weight ;  so  he  was  consoling  himself  with  a 
cigarette,  and  gazing  out  of  the  window.  Sir 
Henry  Atherton  was  busy  with  the  Standard; 
for,  though  fond  of  racing,  and  the  owner  of 
some  smart  performers,  whose  wins  he  appre- 
ciated the  more  as  for  the  most  part  he  bred 
his  own  horses  and  delighted  in  the  vindication 
of  his  judgment,  he  was  also  a  landlord  and  a 
politician,  and  it  behoved  him  to  see  what  was 
happening  at  home  and  abroad.  The  third 
personage  was  young  Flutterton,  who  was 
gradually  buying  experience  at  a  somewhat 
expensive  rate.  He  had  taken  Atherton's  word 
for  the  excellence  of  the  creamy  ham  and  fresh 
eggs,  and  was  deeply  intent  in  a  Httle  silver- 
bound  volume,  ruled  and  figured  on  its  pages  in 
an  unmistakable  way — his  betting-book,  in  fact. 


196  RACECOUESE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

"Is  it  very  bad?"  Wynneiiy  presently  in- 
quired, turning  from  the  window,  and  glancing 
rather  longingly  at  the  breakfast  table — for  he 
had  a  healthy  appetite,  and  hated  wasting. 

"  Horrid  !  "  Flutterton  rejoined  despond- 
ingly.  ''  And  real  bad  luck,  too — wasn't  it  ?  Do 
you  see  anything  to-day  ?  " 

"  No  !  It  seems  to  me  a  brute  of  a  card. 
We  will  ask  Tom  when  he  comes,  but  I  can't 
see  anything.  What  do  yoa  think,  Atherton  ?  " 
Wynnerly  said. 

''  Well,  I  can  find  two  winners,  if  not  three  ; 
but  everybody  else  will  be  able  to  find  them  too. 
You  would  have  to  buy  money  very  dearly,  and 
then  they  might  get  upset.  Ah  !  here's  Tom  !  " 
Atherton  remarked,  as  a  knock  was  heard  at  the 
door ;  and  in  reply  to  an  invitation  to  enter, 
Tom  Ball,  the  famous  trainer  and  jockey, 
appeared. 

Tom  Ball's  clear-cut  face  had  a  great  deal  of 
character  about  it.  Probably  he  would  have 
made  his  way  in  any  calling.  The  keen  grey 
eye,  the  mouth,  firm  and  good-humoured,  spoke 
of  patience  and  determination ;  two  valuable 
qualities  in  most  pursuits.  His  manner  was 
easy  and  modest,  as  he  took  a  chair  in  obedience 
to  Atherton's  invitation,  dechned  Wynnerly's 
suggestion  of  breakfast,  but  did  not  refuse  the 


AN    OFF    CHANCE.  197 

proffer  of  a  liqueur  from  an  oddly-shaped  bottle, 
which  stood  on  a  side  table  amongst  a  heap  of 
yesterday's  cards,  race  glasses,  gloves,  and 
papers. 

''  Well,  Tom,  how's  the  mare  ?  and  have  you 
been  through  the  card  ?  Mr.  Flutterton  had  a 
real  stroke  of  bad  luck  yesterday."  Tom  quietly 
smiled.  "  Yes,  bad  luck,  and  not  bad  judgment," 
Wynnerly  said. 

"  Yes,  Tom,"  Flutterton  broke  in.  "I  know 
what  you  think  about  the  folly  of  betting  on 
every  race,  as  I  do  generally,  but  this  time  my 
horse  won.  I  took  ^1000  to  ^680  about  The 
Admiral,  on  good  advice.  He  won,  as  you 
know.  I  immediately  plunged — put  the  whole 
thousand  on  Proserpine  for  the  Cup,  and  only 
heard  afterwards  that  The  Admiral  was  dis- 
qualified for  a  cross — which  I  certainly  did  not 
see,  though  I  watched  the  race  carefully." 

"No,  Mr.  Flutterton,  and  I  didn't  see  it 
either,"  Tom  answered.  "Yes,  that  certainly 
was  bad  luck.  And  so  you  lost  the  thousand  you 
hadn't  won?" 

"  Yes  ;  and  as  I  hadn't  been  doing  well  before, 
I  am  in  a  hole.     Do  you  see  anything  to-day  ?  " 

"Well,  my  mare,  Furze  Blossom,  will  win 
her  race,  but  it's  7  to  4  on  her  now ;  and, 
of  course.  Silk  Scarf  will  win  the  big  two-year- 


198  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

old  race.  I  might  win  the  Handicap,  but  mine's 
very  uncertain.  I  can't  recommend  you  to 
bet,  though  I've  got  a  bit  on,  and  fancy  it  a 
little." 

"  Just  as  likely  to  put  his  ears  back  and 
refuse  to  try  a  yard  as  to  win  in  a  canter,  I 
suppose  ?  "  Atherton  said. 

"  That's  just  it.  Sir  Henry.  You  never  know 
what  he  means  to  do.  Well,"  Tom  continued, 
looking  down  the  card,  "  anything  might  win 
these  two  selling  races.  They're  a  dreadfully 
uncertain  lot,  and  I'm  afraid  we  are  pretty  sure 
to  be  beaten  for  the  Cup." 

The  "we"  in  question  had  special  reference 
to  a  mare  named  Osprey,  the  property  of  Lord 
Tourneymeade,  who  had  gone  to  the  States  to 
shoot  big  game,  and  left  his  little  stud — which 
were  trained  by  Tom  Ball — under  the  direction 
of  his  friend,  Wynnerly.  She  was  a  good  mare, 
not  harshly  handicapped,  but  she  had  been  a 
little  "off"  all  the  year,  and  was  only  just 
returning  to  her  form. 

"  How  is  she?"  Atherton  asked.  "And  do 
you  know  what  is  going  for  the  race  ?  " 

"  She  is  getting  on  well  enough.  Sir  Henry ; 
but,  of  course,  she  isn't  at  her  best  yet.  She 
might  win,  but  I  think  Eed  Konald's  sure  to  beat 
her.     He's  a  very  improving  horse — gets  better 


AN  OFF  CHANCE.  199 

every  day,  it  seems  to  me.  In  a  fortnight's  time 
we  should  have  a  better  chance  against  him,  for 
we  are  improving,  too ;  but  to-day  I'm  afraid 
he'll  be  too  much  for  us." 

*'  Past  Master's  not  here,  I  suppose  ? " 
Wynnerly  asked. 

"  No,  or  else  he'd  beat  the  lot,"  Tom  replied. 
*'  That  would  be  a  good  thing,  Mr.  Flutterton, 
or  at  least  as  good  as  they  make  them,  which  is 
never  quite  good  enough  to  risk  a  great  deal  of 
money  on,"  he  continued,  with  a  smile. 

''Yes;  and  the  worst  of  it  is  that  brute 
Crossley  will  ride  Red  Eonald,  of  course.  All 
my  bad  luck  seems  to  be  mixed  up  with  that 
fellow,  and,  of  course,  he'll  beat  us,  and  I  shall 
lose  my  hundred  on  Osprey  to-day ! "  poor 
Flutterton  said,  lighting  a  cigarette,  and  con- 
juring up  an  amiable  grin.  "  What  asses  we  are 
to  pay  for  those  fellows'  horses  !  "  he  went  on, 
nodding  towards  a  handsome  pair  of  bays  in  a 
phaeton  driven  by  a  black-moustached  individual, 
by  whose  side  sat  a  dirty-looking,  ill-dressed, 
bearded  servant.  "  There's  Capper,  got  a 
rattling  good  pair  of  horses,  and  he  was  yelling 
out  in  the  ready-money  ring  a  couple  of  years 
ago  ;  and  look  !  there's  another  bookmaker  with 
the  best  pony  in  Beachington." 

''  Yes ;    and    there's    your    friend    Crossley 


200  RACECOUESE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

driving  up  in  that  fly.     Do  you  know  Captain 
Crossley,  Tom?" 

Tom  made  a  sort  of  grimace. 
''  Don't  know  much  of  him,  sir,  and  am  not 
very  anxious  to  improve  the  acquaintance.  Is 
he  going  to  ride  Ked  Eonald  ?  Well,  I'm  afraid 
he'll  win.  I  don't  see  what's  to  beat  him,"  he 
continued,  looking  again  at  the  card. 

"  What  about  Mavis,  Tom  ?  You've  got 
her,  haven't  you  ?  They  tell  me  she  can  go," 
Atherton  inquired. 

''  No ;  I  haven't  got  her  now.  Sir  Henry. 
She's  trained  on  our  Downs,  but  she's  in 
Tinkler's  stable.  She's  useful,  and  she  can 
stay,  though  before  she  came  to  me — I  only  had 
her  for  two  or  three  months,  and  she  never  ran 
— they  thought  she  could  not  go  more  than  six 
furlongs.  It's  a  mistake  people  often  make 
about  their  horses,  instead  of  trying  them.  I 
found  out  that  she  could  go  over  a  distance  of 
ground,  and  we  thought  of  her  for  the  Metro- 
politan ;  but  she  wasn't  well,  and  Lord  Heathfield 
sold  her." 

"  Has  she  got  a  chance  ?  "  Wynnerly  asked. 
"  She  belongs  to  Stuart- C civile,  in  my  regiment, 
you  know,"  he  remarked  to  Atherton. 

"No,  Captain  Wynnerly;  she  can't  win  with 
10   st.   12   lb.   on   her  back,"   Tom   replied  de- 


AN    OFF    CHANCE.  201 

cisively.  ''We  shall  beat  her,  I've  no  doubt. 
She's  here,  and  looking  very  well,  too.  She'll 
win  a  little  race  before  long,  next  week,  per- 
haps ;  but  she's  got  12  lb.  too  much  this  journey. 
With  10  st.  she  might  have  a  look  in." 

"  There's  the  fly,  I  think,"  Atherton  said, 
looking  out  of  the  other  window.  "  There'll  be 
a  crowd  to-day,  too.     See  the  carriages  going." 

The  band  was  plajdng  outside,  but  its 
audience  was  chiefly  made  up  of  nursemaids 
and  children,  with  a  few  ladies  and  elderly 
gentlemen  in  bath  chairs.  Every  one  seemed 
to  be  going  to  the  races.  Vehicles  of  all  sorts, 
from  the  well-appointed  drag,  with  its  even 
team,  to  the  ramshackle  fly  drawn  by  a  broken- 
kneed  creature  on  four  shapeless  legs,  were  all 
travelling  in  one  direction,  hampers,  with  the 
name  of  the  local  purveyor  of  good  things 
painted  in  black  letters  on  their  sides,  being 
frequent  items  of  the  load.  Not  the  worse- 
horsed  of  the  private  phaetons  and  dog-carts 
belonged  to  the  bookmaking  fraternity,  but  the 
get-up  of  their  grooms  usually  proclaimed  their 
masters'  status.  Nearly  every  occupant  of  every 
carriage  was  provided  with  a  card,  a  little  book, 
and  two  or  three  papers,  and  they  referred  from 
card  to  book  and  book  to  paper,  and  compared 
notes  with  each  other  in  a  way  which  unniis- 


202  EACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

takably  bespoke  their  occupation — the  finding 
of  winners,  which  would  be  a  sufficiently  simple 
operation  if  horses  were  machines,  always  equally 
fit  to  work,  and  to  be  trusted  implicitly  to  do 
one  day  precisely  what  they  did  six  months 
before. 

''  Well,  let's  be  off !  "  Wynnerly  said.  "  Have 
another  liqueur,  Tom.  No  !  Quite  sure  ?  Hum 
■ — I  suppose  I'd  better  not ;  but  I'm  going  to 
dine  to-night,  I  can  tell  you  !  We'll  give  you  a 
seat,  if  you  like,  Tom  ?  Come  on,  Flutterton. 
I'm  afraid,  old  chap,"  he  continued,  patting  the 
unlucky  sportsman  on  the  back,  "we  can't  get 
you  home  to-day,  and  I  know  what  a  nuisance 
it  is  !  " 

Poor  Flutterton  put  the  best  face  he  could 
upon  it  as  the  party  drew  on  their  gloves,  slung 
their  glasses  over  their  shoulders,  and  collected 
the  books,  cards,  and  other  materials  for  the 
day's  campaign.  If  something  unexpected  did 
not  haj^pen,  it  meant  another  visit  to  a  little 
office  he  knew  too  well  in  the  City,  the  master 
of  which,  more  than  civil  if  you  met  him  on  a 
racecourse,  at  the  opera,  where  he  had  a  box,  at 
one  or  two  card  clubs,  to  which  he  had  by  some 
means  gained  admission — for  in  these  places  a 
gentleman  seemed  to  have  a  sort  of  advantage 
over  the  rich  man  who  was  not  a  gentleman — 


AN    OFF    CHANCE.  203 

was  quite  a  different  person  and  much  less  easy 
to  deal  with  east  of  the  Griffin.  Flutterton  had 
been  there  already  too  often,  and  hated  the  idea 
of  going  again.  He  would  never  have  risked 
a  thousand  pounds  on  a  horse  unless  he  had 
thought  that  he  was  playing  with  money 
which  he  had  won,  and  7  to  4  to  a  thousand 
pounds  meant  c£1750,  an  amount  that  would 
have  put  two  or  three  uncomfortable  little 
matters  that  worried  him  a  great  deal  pleasantly 
straight.  It  would  have  left  him  enough  to  buy 
a  two-year-old  on  which  he  had  set  his  heart, 
and  unless  things  went  wrong  again — and  he  did 
not  propose  to  risk  large  sums — he  need  not 
have  been  particular  what  price  he  paid  for  a 
couple  of  good  hunters,  good  enough,  perhaps, 
to  pick  up  a  steeplechase  or  two  at  unambitious 
meetings.  When  he  saw  The  Admiral's  blue 
jacket  borne  a  good  length  first  past  the  post,  in 
precise  conformity  with  the  result  of  a  trial, 
about  which  he  had  heard  from  perhaps  the 
shrewdest  man  on  the  turf — an  ex-trainer  who 
had  retired,  bought  some  horses,  and  was  well- 
nigh  invincible  when  he  had  made  up  his  mind 
to  win  a  race — a  glow  of  satisfaction  had  seemed 
to  extend  all  over  him.  There  was  not  a  happier 
little  man  on  the  racecourse.  He  had  not  heard 
the  cries  of  ''  Objection  !  "  "  Don't  pay  !  "  in  the 


204  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

ready-money  ring,  but  had  quietly  gone  away 
and  lunched  on  a  friendly  drag,  promised  his 
sisters  diamond  rings,  and  thought  over  half  a 
score  of  benevolent  schemes  for  other  people's 
gratification,  if  only  Proserpine  won  the  Cup ; 
for  he  was  a  good  little  fellow,  never  so  pleased 
as  when  he  was  pleasing  somebody  else.  Then 
came  the  news.  A  friend  strolled  up  to  have 
some  lunch,  took  his  seat  on  the  drag,  and,  as 
with  good  appetite  he  made  his  way  through  a 
plateful  of  pigeon  pie,  casually  observed — 

''A  shame  to  disqualify  The  Admiral,  wasn't 
it  ?  I  didn't  see  anything  wrong  in  the  race 
—did  you?" 

"To  do  what — to  disqualify  The  Admiral !  " 
he  cried.  ''  I've  heard  nothing  of  this  !  What 
are  you  talking  about  ?  " 

"  Why,  Eose,  who  was  on  the  second,  ^sop, 
objected  to  The  Admiral  on  the  ground  of  a 
cross,  and  the  objection  is  sustained — so  the  race 
goes  to  ^sop.  I  saw  The  Admiral  swerve  a  bit 
from  the  whip,  which  that  little  butcher  boy, 
Jarratt,  took  up  quite  unnecessarily ;  but  I  don't 
believe  he  interfered  with  ^Esop  in  the  least. 
However,  it  is  settled.  Thanks,  I  think  I'll 
have  some  champagne,"  and  he  went  on  with 
his  lunch. 

Disqualified !      Then  if  Proserpine   did   not 


AN  OFF  CHANCE.  205 

win  the  Cup,  Flutfcerton  saw  that  he  would  be 
in  a  mess.  But  she  was  sure  to  win !  They 
fancied  Glee  Singer,  a  three-year-old  from  a 
Northern  stable,  and  he  had  heard  wonderful 
stories  of  the  horse's  ability.  Should  he  save 
his  money?  No!  "Man  or  mouse,"  he 
thought.  There  was  no  doubt  about  the  mare's 
speed  and  stamina,  and  supposing  he  risked 
more  money,  and  then  the  American  mare  or  an 
outsider  were  to  win  after  all !  No  ;  he  would 
stand  it  out  and  hope  for  the  best.  When  in 
due  course  the  horses  paraded  and  cantered, 
Proserpine  sweated  and  certainly  went  short  in 
her  canter.  But  she  often  did  that,  he  thought ; 
she  would  soon  warm  to  her  work.  Still  it  was 
with  rather  a  quaking  at  the  heart  that  he 
waited.  How  Proserpine  and  Glee  Singer  came 
up  the  straight  side  by  side,  the  three-year-old 
evidently  having  the  best  of  it,  and  how  the 
mare  which  carried  his  thousand  was  beaten 
three  lengths,  need  not  be  described.  Things 
had  gone  badly  all  the  meeting.  Crossley  had 
assured  him  that  one  of  his  horses  had  no 
chance ;  thereupon,  fearing  only  that,  he  had 
backed  another,  and  Crossley's  won  any  how — to 
the  astonishment  of  his  owner,  as  that  astute 
and  seldom-deceived  personage  vowed  and 
declared ;   while  another  that  Crossley  assured 


206  RACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

him  could  not  be  beaten  had  finished  a  bad  third. 
These  and  other  misfortunes  had  overtaken 
Flutterton,  and  with  the  morning  here  described, 
the  last  day  of  the  fortnight,  the  only  chance  of 
"  getting  home  "  had  come. 

The  carriage  containing  our  friends  v^as  one 
of  the  rank  making  slow  progress  up  the  incline, 
a  wheel  track  over  the  downs,  to  the  course. 
Horses,  hooded  and  sheeted,  were  heading  for 
the  paddock,  and  the  usual  crowd  of  card-sellers 
were  as  pertinacious  as  usual.  In  the  paddock, 
owners,  trainers,  and  the  familiar  body  of  turfites 
were  in  earnest  converse,  strolling  about  or 
looking  at  their  animals ;  here  and  there  in  the 
crowd  the  crimson,  white,  or  blue  of  a  jockey's 
cap  was  to  be  seen ;  groups  were  formed  round 
one  or  two  of  the  favourites  for  the  first  race. 
There  was  really  nothing  to  be  discovered  more 
than  experience — as  put  into  words  by  Tom  Ball 
when  he  looked  over  the  card  at  the  hotel — • 
could  point  out ;  that  is  to  say,  form  pointed 
strongly  to  the  winners  of  three  races,  and  the 
rest  were  in  the  highest  degree  uncertain.  A 
hot  favourite  won  the  selling  race  which  came 
first  on  the  card,  and  Tom  Ball  steered  his  own 
two-year-old.  Furze  Blossom,  home  without  an 
effort  for  the  race  in  which  she  was  engaged. 


AN    OFF    CHANCE.  207 

The  chance  was  so  good  that  Fhitterton  had 
laid  the  odds,  5  to  2  on,  and  won  £20,  which 
was  never  in  doubt.  Tom's  jacket  fluttered  in 
the  wind  always  in  a  foremost  place,  and  he 
came  away,  with  his  hands  at  his  mare's  withers, 
looking  right  and  left  to  see  whether  any  of 
the  struggling  field,  all  of  which  had  been  ridden 
hard  almost  before  the  distance  was  reached, 
were  coming  to  challenge  him.  In  the  Handi- 
cap, his  horse,  ridden  by  one  of  his  boys,  had 
looked  like  winning  in  a  canter,  but  had 
suddenly  put  back  his  ears  and  utterly  refused  to 
gallop,  a  circumstance  which  cost  Flutterton 
half  the  £20  he  had  won. 

The  next  race  was  for  the  Southdown  Cup, 
and  before  the  numbers  went  up  the  market  had 
set.  When  presently  they  were  hoisted  it  was 
seen  that  there  were  only  three  runners  : — No.  3 
— Lord  James  Savage's  b  h  Eed  Eonald,  11  st. 
12  lb.,  white,  blue  belt,  black  cap  (Captain 
Crossley) ;  No.  7 — Lord  Tourneymeade's  ch  m 
Osprey,  11  st.  7  lb.,  red  and  green  hoops  (Mr. 
Herries);  No.  15— Mr.  Stuart-Colvile's  b  m 
Mavis,  10  st.  12  lb.,  crimson,  white  cap  (Captain 
Wynnerly). 

"  How's  this  ?  I  thought  Wynnerly  was 
going  to  ride  Osprey.  I  understood  so  when  he 
went   to    dress.     What's   the  meaning  of  it?" 


208  EACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

Flutterton  asked  Sir  Henry,  as  they  read  the 
3,  7,  15,  with  the  riders'  names  heneath,  on  the 
telegraph  board.  "  Herries  is  going  to  ride,  it 
seems  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know ;  I  quite  thought  so,  too," 
Atherton  answered. 

"  I'll  take  6  to  4  !  5  to  4  bar  one  !  10  to 
1  bar  two  !  "  came  from  the  ring.  "  Here,  6  to 
4  bar  one  !  15  to  1  bar  two  !  I'll  take  7  to  4  !  " 
was  soon  the  cry.  Eed  Konald  was  a  hot 
favourite,  and  his  appearance  justified  it.  The 
mare,  too,  looked  well,  as  Tom  Ball  stripped  her, 
and  with  gentle  hands  and  soothing  words  fitted 
the  saddle  on  her  back.  A  trifle  big  there  was 
no  doubt.  Another  gallop  would  certainly  have 
improved  her;  but  her  powerful  quarters,  clean 
flat  legs,  and  a  general  racing  appearance  about 
her,  in  conjunction  with  her  lean,  game-looking 
head,  made  her  a  dangerous  animal  to  oppose. 

"■  I  thought  Captain  Wynnerly  was  going  to 
ride  her,  Tom  ?  Have  they  made  a  mistake  on 
the  board  ?  "  Atherton  asked,  as  Tom  put  the 
finishing  touches  to  her  toilet. 

"  He  and  Mr.  Herries  have  changed  their 
minds  about  it.  I  don't  quite  know  why,  but 
it's  as  they  like,  and  I'm  afraid  neither  of  them 
can  win.  Mr.  Herries  will  ride  her  very  well, 
though   he's   a   bit   behind   Captain  Wynnerly. 


AN    OFF    CHANCE.  209 

Has  not  had  so  much  experience,  you  see," 
Tom  answered. 

''  Has  Mavis  any  chance.  Why  does  Captain 
Wynnerly  ride  her?  "  Flutterton  inquired. 

"  She's  really  got  no  chance  at  all.  I 
suppose  Mr.  Herries  fancied  the  mount  on  the 
mare,  but  I  don't  know  why.  Ah !  Very 
likely  he  can't  ride  10  st.  12  lb.  easily — that's  it, 
I  expect.  I  should  like  to  place  them  for  a 
hundred  !  "  Tom  said. 

"Yes;  I  suppose  that  would  not  be  very 
difl&cult  to  do,  eh  ?  "  Atherton  replied ;  and  at 
that  moment  Wynnerly,  in  the  crimson  jacket 
and  white  cap,  joined  the  group. 

"  Look  here,  old  chap,  I  think  I  know  some- 
thing," he  said  to  Flutterton.  "  May  I  gamble 
for  you  to  the  extent  of  £150  ?  It's  only  a 
chance ;  but  if  you  don't  like  it  I'll  take  it 
myself,  for,  in  fact,  I've  done  it." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  if  you  think  it  good 
enough,  you  may  be  sure  I  do,  though  I  have 
not  an  idea  what  you  are  playing  at.  Why  are 
you  riding  for  Colvile  ?  Tom  says  you  haven't 
a  ghost  of  a  chance.  Isn't  Crossley  going- 
straight  ?  He  daren't  stop  his  horse  ;  besides, 
I  know  they've  all  backed  it,"  Flutterton,  sorely 
puzzled,  inquired. 

"  I'll  take  5  to  2  !     3  to  1  bar  one  !     20  to  1 

14 


210  BACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

bar  two  !  "  came  from  the  ring  as  Herries 
strolled  up,  exchanged  greetings  with  Atherton 
and  the  perplexed  Flntterton,  threw  off  his 
overcoat,  and  was  put  np  into  the  saddle  of 
Osprey.  At  the  same  moment  Crossley  rode  by, 
nodding  carelessly  to  Flntterton  as  he  sat  his 
fidgetty  horse  with  easy  grace — he  could 
certainly  ride. 

"Where's  my  mare?  Oh,  there  she  is!" 
Wynnerly  said.  "I  can't  explain,  my  dear 
fellow,"  he  continued  to  Flntterton,  "perhaps, 
I'm  wrong ;  but  I  have  an  idea." 

"  Crossley  means  business,  doesn't  he  ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course  he  does.  They  think  the 
race  is  over ;  so  does  the  ring,  and  perhaps 
they're  right,"  Wynnerly  said. 

"  But  just  tell  me — is  Mavis  better  than  we 
think  ?  " 

"  Not  half  an  ounce,  so  far  as  I  know\  Tom 
is  a  far  better  judge  than  I  am,  and  no  doubt  he 
is  perfectly  right  about  her.  Well,  good  luck 
to  us  all !  "  he  continued,  and  he  moved  towards 
the  mare,  exchanged  a  word  with  Colvile  and 
her  trainer,  and  was  on  the  course  cantering 
after  the  others. 

"  What  does  it  mean  ?  "  Flntterton  asked,  as 
he  and  his  companion  moved  off  to  get  good 
places  from  which  to  see  the  race.     "  It  looks  a 


AN    OFF    CHANCE.  211 

certainty  for  Eed  Eonald — the  party  have 
backed  him.  Tom  says  Osprey  has  no  chance, 
and  Mavis  less  than  none  ;  and  yet  Wynnerly 
has  got  some  game  on." 

"I  am  as  much  in  the  dark  as  you  are," 
Atherton  replied.  ''  I  thought  at  first  that 
there  must  be  something  wrong  about  the  entry 
of  Eed  Eonald,  something  about  the  weights, 
or  the  description,  and  that  they  hoped  to 
disqualify  him.  But  that  can't  be  it.  I've 
been  over  it,  and  when  I  mentioned  it  to  Tom 
he  said  he  was  sure  it  was  all  right.  There's  no 
one  in  the  forfeit  list  connected  with  the  horse. 
No.  It's  too  much  for  me.  Look !  There 
they  go  over  the  hill.  That's  McQeorge's  trap, 
I  suppose.     Yes,  there  he  is.     They're  off!" 

As  he  spoke,  the  flag  fell,  and  off  went  the 
three  horses,  looking  small  in  the  distance  on 
the  opposite  hill  a  little  to  the  left  of  the  stand 
— a  steep  declivity,  with  an  abrupt  rise  on  the 
other  side,  lay  between  the  stands  and  the  start- 
ing-post for  the  Cup  course,  which  was  over  a 
distance  of  two  miles,  the  field  having  to  run 
over  ground  in  shape  something  like  the  half  of 
an  oval. 

"  Wynnerly  is  making  the  running  for 
Osprey,"  Flutterton  said,  watching  attentively. 

"  Yes,  quite  right ;  and  he's  coming  along  at 


212  EACECOUKSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

a  fine  pace,  too.  See,  lie's  a  dozen  lengths 
ahead !  " 

The  other  pan*  galloped  on  behind,  side  by 
side,  and  the  ring  showed  that  the  race  was 
being  run  very  much  as  they  had  expected  by 
continuing  to  offer  to  take  the  same  odds  about 
Red  Ronald  and  lay  against  Osprey  as  before 
the  start.  It  was,  however,  12  to  1  bar  two, 
in  consequence  of  Wynnerly,  whose  skill  was 
well  known,  being  on  Mavis. 

*' That  red  jacket's  got  a  long  lead,"  a 
man  standing  near  our  friends  remarked  to  his 
neighbour,  as  he  watched  the  race  through  his 
glasses. 

''  Plenty  of  time  !  They've  got  the  length  of 
the  Derby  course  to  run  yet !  "  his  neighbour 
answered;  ''I've  got  a  great  mind  to  have 
another  50  to  20,  and  I  will,  too.  It  7niist 
be  a  good  thing  for  Ronald,"  he  went  on,  as  he 
carefully  surveyed  the  runners. 

"  Mavis  keeps  well  ahead,"  Atherton  re- 
marked, as,  some  mile  having  been  covered,  the 
field  approached  a  steepish  descent  which  led 
into  the  straight  for  home. 

"  They  said  that  mare  could  not  go  a  mile, 
but  she  runs  as  if  she  could!"  one  of  the 
former  speakers  remarked.  ''Will  they  catch 
her?" 


AN    OFF    CHANCE.  213 

**  Catch  her!"  replied  his  companion,  who 
had  just  laid  the  other  50  to  20,  contemptuously. 
''What  do  ijou  think?  It  would  be  a  start 
if  a  mare  like  that  beat  Eed  Ronald ;  and  she 
hasn't  such  a  pull  in  the  weights  either." 

"  I  say  !  Just  look  at  Wynnerly  !  "  Atherton 
cried. 

As  the  three  runners  reached  the  middle  of 
the  descent  the  rider  of  Mavis  let  go  his  mare's 
head,  and  the  lead  of  twelve  lengths  was  nearly 
doubled.     Crossley,  on  the  favourite,  glanced  at 
his  companion,  Osprey.    Both  were  going  strong, 
but  as  they  turned  into  the  straight,  some  half 
mile  fi'om  home,  Wynnerly  was  many  lengths  to 
the  good,  a  fact  of  which  he  assured  himself  by 
turning  in  his  saddle  and  glancing  at  the  other 
two.     On   the   three   galloped.     Crossley  again 
looked  at  the  mare   on  his  right,  then   at  the 
leader.      Osprey  was    going    comfortably,    and 
Herries  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  go  on  and  catch 
the  other,  but  Mavis  was  certainly  not  coming 
back  to  them,  as  Crossley  had  confidently  antici- 
pated she  would,  and  he  saw  that  there  was  no 
time  to  be  lost.     One  stroke  of  the  whip  fell  on 
Eed  Eonald's  side,  he  sprang  forward,   as  did 
Osprey,  untouched ;  but  Mavis  still  gave  no  sign 
of  coming  back  to   her  horses.     The  followers 
gained  perceptibly,  but  all  of  a  sudden  a  new 


214  EACECOUKSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

idea  struck  the  spectators  in  the  ring  and  stands, 
and  was  emphasized  by  a  shout, 

''  They'll  never  catch  him  !  "  half  a  dozen 
voices  cried.  **  Go  on,  Eonald  !  Go  on,  Osprey  !  " 
came  from  the  stand.  *'  Go  on,  Mavis !  "  a 
bookmaker  shouted  in  a  voice  heard  over  all. 
''  Here  !  What  about  Mavis  ?  "  "  Even  money 
Mavis!  Six  to  four  Ked  Eonald,"  comes  from 
the  ring.     Wild  excitement  prevailed. 

Flutterton,  a  sudden  inspiration  having 
dawned  upon  him,  unconsciously  moved  his  body, 
as  he  watched  the  race,  in  time  to  the  leader's 
stride.  Crossley  is  riding  his  hardest,  and 
rapidly  overhauling  the  animal  that  has  now  so 
nearly  approached  the  post.  The  white  jacket 
is  three  lengths  in  front  of  the  green  and  red 
hoops,  but  as  they  pass  the  stand,  Wynnerly's 
crimson,  white  cap  is  a  good  two  lengths  in 
front  of  the  white  jacket.  Breathless  attention 
on  the  part  of  some,  who  watch  with  eager 
faces ;  incoherent  cries  on  the  part  of  others, 
express  the  varied  sentiments  of  the  spectators. 
No  !  they  will  certainly  never  catch  him ;  Eed 
Eonald  is  within  a  length  of  the  leader,  half  a 
dozen  strides  from  the  judge's  box,  when  Wyn- 
nerly,  who  has  not  yet  touched  his  game  mare, 
draws  his  whip.  Two  strokes  swiftly  fall  on  her 
Hank,  she  answers  by  increasing  her  advantage, 


AN  OFF  CHANCE.  215 

and  Eed  Ronald,  who  has  been  vigorously  ridden 
from  the  distance,  can  barely  hold  his  own. 

In  a  moment  more  they  are  past  the  post, 
and  No.  15  is  hoisted.  Wynnerly  has  run  away 
with  the  race  :  Mavis  has  won  by  a  length  and  a 
half,  Eed  Ronald,  second ;  Osprey,  bad  third,  is 
the  result  of  the  race  for  the  Southdown  Cup. 

Wynnerly,  a  very  imperturbable  young  man, 
rode  back  to  weigh  in  after  this  astonishing 
turn  up  with  a  perfectly  calm  face,  looking  as  if 
he  had  expected  to  be  beaten  a  hundred  yards, 
and  had  been  beaten  accordingly.  This  ceremony 
over,  he  joined  Flutterton,  who  was  waiting  for 
him  in  the  weighing-room  with  a  whirling  brain, 
oscillating  between  hope  and  apprehension. 
Tom  Ball  was  there  looking  much  amused ; 
Atherton,  not  quite  knowing  what  to  make  of 
it ;  and  Crossley,  unaffectedly  savage. 

"  Well,  that's  all  right !  "  Wynnerly  said,  as 
he  strolled  away  across  the  paddock  with  Flutter- 
ton,  an  overcoat  over  the  white  and  cerise 
jacket  he  had  put  on  to  ride  a  subsequent  race 
in.     ''  Your  J6150  was  on  an  average  of  15  to  1." 

"I'm  bewildered!  I  can't  believe  it  yet! 
What  made  you  think  of  that  ? "  Flutterton 
said. 

"I  hardly  know,  but  the  idea  came  into  my 


216  KACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

head  when  I  accidentally  overheard  Kushton, 
the  trainer,  talking  to  Crossley  about  the  race. 
I  was  leaning  against  the  window  outside,  and 
they  were  talking  in  that  room  behind — I 
couldn't  help  hearing,  and  I  don't  suppose  they 
thought  it  was  a  secret.  Kushton  said  there  would 
be  only  three  runners :  that  Mavis  had  no 
chance ;  and  told  him  to  keep  with  Osprey  to 
the  distance — they  thought  Mavis  was  only 
started  to  make  a  pace,  I  expect — and  then  he 
could  come  away  and  win  as  he  liked.  I  knew 
Osprey  couldn't  win,  so  it  occurred  to  me — I 
was  thinking  of  Foxhall's  Ascot  Cup — that  if 
Herries  rode  Osprey,  and  didn't  hurry  after  me 
too  much,  I  might  have  an  off  chance  of  getting 
home  before  they  caught  me.  Sharp  practice  ? 
Not  particularly  I  think,  for  if  Osprey  could 
have  won  I  wouldn't,  of  course,  have  done  it. 
I  got  a  lead,  as  you  saw,  and  slipped  them 
down  the  hill.  You  see  I  knew  my  mare  could 
gallop ;  Tom  and  Tinkler  both  said  she  could 
stay,  so  I  tried  it  on.  I  wanted  you  to  get 
square,  but  I  did  not  like  to  say  anything  to  you 
before  the  race,  as  it  was  only  an  off  chance." 

Flutterton,  who  had  lost  .£100  on  Osprey, 
won  a  balance  of  over  £2000  on  the  race,  and  it 
is  almost  unnecessary  to  say,  has  a  higher 
opinion  than  ever  of  Wynnerly's  astuteness. 


A  VISIT  TO  A  VETERAN  :  WILLIAM 
DAY   AND   FOXHALL. 

Geateley  station  on  the  London  and  South- 
western Railway  is  far  from  being  a  cheery 
place  to  arrive  at  about  six  o'clock  on  a  wintry 
evening ;  but  it  was  my  destination  on  the  last 
Saturday  in  October,  and  having  bundled  out  of 
a  railway  carriage  and  looked  up  and  down  the 
platform,  it  was  something  to  be  welcomed  by  a 
dog.  A  good-looking  fox  terrier  made  his  way 
to  me  as  I  alighted,  and  gave  every  indication 
of  having  expected  my  arrival,  though  why  he 
should  have  done  so  is  a  mystery,  as  I  had 
never  seen  him  before.  The  fact  remains, 
however,  to  be  accounted  for  as  lovers  of  dogs 
may  be  pleased  to  decide,  that  Tiger,  as  I  after- 
wards found  he  was  called,  appeared  to  know  by 
some  sort  of  mysterious  instinct  that  I  was  his 
master's  guest.  It  was  less  strange  that  a 
porter  should  ask  if  I  were  looking  for  Mr.  Day's 
servant,  as   I   was   gazing   about   the   platform 


218  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

expectantly,  and  only  one  trap  was  in  waiting. 
Shipton  was  my  destination,  to  fulfil  a  long- 
standing engagement  to  visit  the  famous  trainer 
Mr.  William  Day,  and  in  two  minutes  the  white 
pony  was  bowling  along  the  dusky  Wiltshire 
road,  with  Tiger  in  close  attendance. 

Need  it  be  said  that  the  first  question  was, 
''How's  the  horse?"  and  that  the  horse  in 
question  was  none  other  than  the  great 
I^oxhall  ? 

"Very  well,  indeed,  thank  you,  sir,  I  '  do  ' 
him,"  my  driver  responded,  with  excusable 
pride. 

"  And  you  saw  him  win  his  races,  I 
suppose?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  I  did,  sir  !  "  is  the  reply.  "  I 
was  with  him  all  the  time." 

"  That's  the  stable,  sir — Park  House," 
Foxhall's  friend  and  attendant  presently  says, 
after  a  couple  of  miles  or  so  have  been  rattled 
over.  "  The  master's  house  is  about  three- 
quarters  of  a  mile  further  on,  but  we  are  going 
to  move  soon." 

On  we  go  until  at  length  the  village  of 
Shipton  appears  in  sight,  and  trotting  merrily 
up  the  main  street,  we  turn  in  at  a  gate- 
way. The  house  stands  a  hundred  yards  or  so 
back   from   the   rustic   street,    and  the  shadow 


A   VISIT    TO    A   VETEEAN.  219 

of  a  statuette  of  a  thoroughbred  horse,  which 
I  see  reflected  on  the  blind,  gives  some  sort 
of  indication  as  to  the  tastes  and  occupations 
of  the  inmates.  And  the  sound  of  wheels 
soon  brings  to  the  door  my  host,  William  Day, 
son  of  old  John  Day  of  sporting  memory, 
and  grandson  of  yet  another  John  Day,  who 
was  famous  in  the  horsey  annals  of  his  time, 
and  whose  grandson  William,  formerly  of 
Woodyeates,  has  more  than  kept  alive  the  fame 
of  the  family  by  his  exploits  in  the  saddle  as 
jockey,  in  the  stable  as  trainer,  and  in  the 
paddock  as  owner  of  racehorses. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  go  into  unnecessary 
details,  but  rather  to  recount  some  facts  con- 
cerning, and  opinions  held  by,  the  author  of 
"  The  Eacehorse  in  Training,"  who  has  often 
given  such  unmistakable  proof  of  the  soundness 
of  his  theories  by  the  unprecedented  success  of 
Foxhall  in  the  Cesarewitch  and  Cambridgeshire, 
not  to  mention  the  Grand  Duke  Michael  Stakes 
amongst  other  instances ;  and  so  the  pleasant 
dinner,  at  which  my  host's  wife  and  three 
daughters  were  present,  need  not  be  lingered 
over  on  paper,  as  it  was  lingered  over  in  fact. 
The  cloth  removed  and  the  ladies  gone,  we  drew 
round  to  the  fire,  and,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
discussed  that  "  noble  animal,"  the  horse. 


220  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

"  You  are  looking  at  the  pictures,  I  see," 
William  Day  observes,  "  That  is  Crucifix,  with 
my  father  up  and  my  brother  John  holding  his 
hack.  It  is  one  of  Harry  Hall's.  That  is 
Crucifix  again.  Herring's  work.  Then,  the 
other  side  is  Promised  Land.  That  is  a  horse 
called  Wisdom,  painted  ~  by  Abraham  Cooper  ; 
and  the  mare  and  foal  are  by  Ferneley,  who  was 
considered  a  wonderfully  clever  man  in  his  day." 

"  Good  horses,  all  of  them.  What  do  you 
think  the  best  you  ever  knew  ?  "  I  asked. 

''  This  one — Foxhall,"  his  trainer  replies  ; 
**  and  I  remember  Bay  Middleton,  Pleni- 
potentiary, and  West  Australian,  but  I  don't 
think  one  of  them  could  have  beaten  Foxhall." 

"  I  suppose  Promised  Land  was  a  real  good 
one." 

"Yes,  I  ought  to  have  won  the  Derby  on 
him,  would  have  won  had  I  made  proper  use 
of  him,  but  I  was  over-persuaded  by  my  father 
to  wait  with  him.  We  cantered  up  the  hill  as 
usual,  and  Musjid  won  by  his  turn  of  speed.  That 
Promised  Land  was  the  better  horse  of  the  two 
is,  I  think,  pretty  well  shown  by  the  fact  that 
though  a  match  had  been  made  in  the  spring 
between  him  and  Musjid,  to  come  off  in  the 
autumn,  for  three  thousand  guineas  a-side.  Sir 
Joseph  dared  not  run,  and  paid  forfeit ;  and  then, 


A    VISIT    TO    A    VETEEAN.  221 

again,  Promised  Land's  easy  win  in  the  Good- 
wood Cap  that  year,  when  he  was  ridden  in  the 
right  manner,  goes  to  prove  the  truth  of  my 
opinion,  though,  as  you  say.  Sir  Joseph  Hawley 
fancied  Musjid  after  his  trial  with  Gallus,  and 
Wells  declared  he  had  never  ridden  a  better  than 
Musjid.  He  had  never  ridden  Promised  Land, 
and  you  know  Musjid  did  not  do  much  after  the 
Derby?" 

"No  doubt  the  best  horse  often  does  not 
win  unless  he  is  ridden  the  best  way,"  I  remark. 

"  Quite  so.  There  was  a  case  in  point  two 
or  three  years  ago  at  Doncaster.  '  You  had 
better  have  a  bit  on  my  horse,  I'm  going  to  win 
to-day,'  one  of  the  cleverest  of  our  jockeys  said 
to  me.  '  Well,  the  horse  hasn't  done  much  yet — 
has  he  ?  '  I  asked.  '  No,  he  hasn't,  for  I  have 
never  quite  had  my  way  about  riding  him,  but 
to-day  I  have  leave  to  ride  him  as  I  think  best, 
and  I  am  certain  we  shall  beat  them  all,'  the 
jockey  said  ;  and  he  did.  There  is  no  harm  in 
mentioning  names — I  am  speaking  of  Jim 
Goater  and  Eayon  d'Or." 

"You  wanted  to  get  Cannon  for  Foxhall, 
didn't  you  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Yes.  I'd  rather  have  him  than  any  jockey 
of  the  day,"  is  the  answer. 

"And  who  do  you  think  the  best  jockey  you 


222  EACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

ever  saw?"  I  go  on  to  ask.  ''I  know  you 
yourself  pulled  off  an  Ascot  Cup  very  cleverly, 
but  I  won't  ask  about  your  own  performances." 

"Well,"  he  smilingly  answers,  "I  don't 
think  there  was  ever  a  better  than  my  father, 
and  one  reason  was  that  he  always  made  the 
best  use  of  his  horse,  and  oftener  won  that  way 
than  others  could  by  waiting.  There  was  none 
of  that  flashy  style  of  winning  by  short  heads 
that  makes  jockeys  lose  so  many  races  nowa- 
days. The  public  are  caught  by  this  sort  of 
thing,  but  many  races  are  thrown  away.  If  the 
jockey  wins,  they  talk  of  his  wonderful  finish, 
coming  just  in  the  nick  of  time,  and  if  he  is 
just  beaten,  they  declare  that  no  one  else  would 
have  got  within  a  head  but  So-and-So;  while 
all  the  time,  if  he  had  ridden  judiciously,  he 
might  have  won  easily  by  a  length  and  a  half,  or 
maybe  much  further." 

"■  Do  you  think  jockeys  were  better  horse- 
men in  former  days  than  now?"  I  go  on  to 
inquire. 

"  No.  Of  course  Jim  Eobinson,  and  Buckle, 
and  Butler,  and  the  Chifneys,  and  my  father 
rode  some  wonderful  races,  and  my  brother  Sam, 
who  won  the  St.  Leger  at  nineteen,  the  youngest 
jockey  that  ever  did  (he  was  killed  out  hunting, 
when  he   was   twenty-one),   was   a   great    deal 


A    VISIT    TO    A    VETERAN.  223 

better  than  most ;  but  I  think  Tom  Cannon  and 
some  of  the  others  are  as  good  as  they  were." 

"Well,  it  is  pleasant  to  think  that  these 
races  you  have  just  won  have  been  among  the 
most  steady  and  straightforward  on  record,  and 
after  public  trials  that  let  anybody  who  cared  to 
know  judge  for  himself  what  the  horse  could  do. 
I  have  not  any  sympathy  with  a  win  when  the 
horse  has  been  pulled,  and  run  unfit,  and  dodged 
about  to  hoodwink  handicappers.  You  can't 
have  felt  quite  comfortable  about  the  Cam- 
bridgeshire, though — a  three-year-old,  with  nine 
stone  on  his  back,  up  that  hill,  and  with  a  more 
than  respectable  field  to  beat,  too  ?  " 

''  I  knew  what  a  good  horse  he  was,  and  was 
tolerably  certain  about  it.  I  watched  the  race 
from  the  Eed  Post,  and  saw  that  my  horse  was 
lying  in  a  good  position  and  going  well." 

''  Was  it  true  that  Watts  hit  the  horse 
such  a  sounding  stroke  that  he  frightened 
Lucy  Glitters  and  made  her  swerve  on  to 
Tristan?  I  have  seen  that  stated,"  I  interrupt 
to  inquire. 

"  Not  true  at  all,  I  should  say,"  William 
Day  answers.  "  I  don't  believe  the  boy  hit  him 
once.  I  did  not  see  it,  and  there  was  certainly 
no  mark  of  it  on  the  horse,  nothing  but  a  touch 
of  the  spurs — naturally  after  such  a  close  finish. 


224  EAGECOURSE   AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

Watts  flourished  his  whip  about,  but  did  not 
use  it." 

"You  couldn't  see  the  finish  from  the  Eed 
Post.     What  did  you  do  ?  "  I  ask. 

"  Oh,  I  galloped  up  on  my  pony,"  he  replies, 
with  a  smile,  "  and  asked  what  had  won. 
'  Foxhall ! '  somebody  said;  'won  by  a  head.' 
'  No,  he  didn't ;  he  won  by  half  a  length.'  *  I 
tell  you  it  was  a  neck.'  '  I  saw  it  plain  enough, 
and  it  was  a  head,  and  a  very  short  one,  too,'  so 
they  holloaed  out ;  but  I  said,  '  Never  mind.  A 
short  head's  good  enough  for  me  if  it's  the  right 
way ; '  and  just  then  No.  4  went  up,  and  there 
was  no  doubt  about  it." 

"  What  did  you  do  with  the  horse  between 
the  two  races  ?  I  am  curious  to  know,  for  the 
preparation  for  a  mile  and  a  two-mile-and-a- 
quarter  race  must  be  so  difi'erent." 

"Well,  we  came  back  from  Newmarket  on 
Friday,  and  walked  on  Saturday.  On  Sunday  I 
never  take  my  horses  out,  as  you  know.  He 
did  a  canter  on  the  Monday,  half-speed  gallops 
on  Tuesday  and  Wednesday ;  on  Thursday  and 
Friday  I  sent  him  along  a  mile  and  a  quarter 
at  his  best  speed,  and  he  galloped  steadily  the 
distance  on  Saturday.  There  was  not  much  time, 
you  see ;  but  I  knew  he  could  stand  as  much 
work  as  was  good  for  him — no  fear  of  that." 


A   VISIT    TO    A   VETERAN.  225 

''  Of  course  he  is  at  his  best  now  ?  " 
''Yes,  as  you  will  see  to-morrow.  It  would 
not  do  to  let  him  down  too  suddenly.  He's 
thoroughly  fit,  and  that  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life.  When  he  went  to  run  for  the  Grand  Duke 
Michael,  an  authority  on  training,  or  some  one 
who  is  supposed  to  be  one,  comphmented  me  on 
his  condition,  though  I  did  not  think  he  was 
then  fit,  and  said  he  would  be  much  improved 
by  the  Cesarewitch.  When  he  was  being 
saddled  for  that  race,  my  friend  came  up,  and 
thought  he  was  a  bit  fine  drawn  and  overdone. 
'  He'll  be  finer  drawn  by  the  Cambridgeshire,'  I 
told  him,  and  '  Ah,  then  you'll  make  a  mess  of 
it ! '  he  said.  Well,  he  won  the  Cesarewitch, 
and  before  the  Cambridgeshire  my  friend  arrived 
to  look  him  over,  and  vowed  he  had  not  the 
ghost  of  a  chance ;  but  I  thought  he  had,  and 
you  know  the  result." 

Next  morning  we  all  went  to  the  little  village 
church,  and  after  luncheon  to  Park  House. 
Alfred  Day,  my  host's  youngest  son,  who  bids 
fair  to  sustain  to  the  full  the  reputation  of  his 
family,  receives  us,  and  in  a  moment  I  am  in 
the  comfortable  box  occupied  by  one  of  the  very 
best  horses  that  ever  ran.  He  is  having  his 
toilet  performed,  and  is  told  by  his  attendant  to 
hold  up  his  foot. 

15 


226  EACECOUBSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

"  Not  that  one,  stupid  !  Have  not  I  just 
done  it  ?  Wliat  are  you  thinking  about  to-day  !  " 
his  friend  says  in  a  good-humoured  tone  of  pre- 
tended reproach  as  we  enter ;  and  so  Foxhall 
dutifully  presents  his  other  foot. 

Fancy  calling  a  three-year-old  that  has  carried 
nine  stone  to  victory  up  the  Cambridgeshire  hill 
"  stupid !  "  But  in  this  case  familiarity  has 
not  by  any  means  bred  contempt,  but  rather 
confidence,  esteem,  and  affection. 

I  look  at  the  good  horse  in  admiration. 
What  shoulders !  what  quarters !  what  depth 
through  the  heart !  Perhaps  his  enormous 
power  behind  is  his  most  notable  characteristic, 
but  when  one  glances  at  his  shoulders  again  one 
doubts  whether  it  is  so.  It  is  not  a  pretty  Httle 
head ;  but  the  kind,  mild,  generous  eye  gives  it 
character  and  individuality.  The  neck,  more- 
over, is  far  from  being  the  graceful  arched  type 
that  ladies  admire.  He  is,  indeed,  distinctly 
ewe-necked,  but  one  gradually  falls  in  love  with 
the  horse,  and  his  neck  appears  to  suit  him. 
The  rich  bay,  so  delightfully  contrasted  with  his 
black  points,  seems  just  precisely  the  right 
colour  for  him.     I  gaze  and  admire. 

"  Isn't  he  the  least  bit  light  below  the 
knee?" 

*'  Perhaps  a  little  ;  but  handle  him.     He's  as 


A    VISIT    TO   A   VETERAN.  227 

quiet  as  a  lamb,"  says  his  trainer ;  and  I  pass  my 
hand  down  his  clean  legs,  of  greater  girth  than 
they  appear,  by  reason,  it  may  be,  of  the  forma- 
tion of  the  knee  ;  stroke  his  amiable  nose,  and 
generally  endeavour  to  impress  upon  the  good 
honest  horse — how  grandly  he  came,  when 
wanted,  up  that  hill  on  the  25th  of  October ! — 
that  I  am  proud  to  make  his  acquaintance, 
overtures  of  friendship  which  he  receives  very 
kindly  and  seems  to  reciprocate.  He  is  a 
foreigner,  an  alien,  and  twice  he  has  lost  me 
my  money,  but  I  love  a  good  horse  with  all  my 
heart,  and  for  his  prowess  and  his  disposition 
alike  Foxhall  is  a  horse  to  arouse  enthusiasm. 

I  turn  away  to  inspect  the  others ;  but  after 
the  big  horse  they  seem  poor,  so  I  return  to 
have  one  more  look  at  him.  One  more  stroke 
of  that  soft,  solid  neck,  and  I  say  au  revoir  to 
Foxhall. 


THE   DEKBY   CENTENARY. 

Peeveeselt  enough,  when  every  one  wants  it  to 
be  fine  it  is  raining  hard.  That  things  could 
not  go  on  Hke  this,  and  that  if  they  did  the 
hundredth  Derby  would  be  rather  a  question  of 
swimming  than  of  galloping,  was  the  generally 
expressed  opinion  as  men  came  out  of  their 
clubs  on  the  eve  of  the  great  day,  and  looked 
up  and  down  the  streets  for  hansom  cabs. 
Many  very  bitter  and  cutting  remarks  were, 
indeed,  made  about  the  weather,  and  the  morn- 
ing, as  if  to  revenge  itself,  opened  in  a  sullen 
and  dispiriting  manner,  suggestive  of  umbrellas 
and  waterproofs,  rather  than  of  more  light  and 
airy  Derby  attire. 

But,  at  half-past  nine  o'clock  precisely, 
anxious  eyes  cast  up  to  the  sky  detect  favour- 
able signs  ;  the  sun  shows  that  he  is  still  able  to 
do  his  duty,  and  some  one  brightens  up  suflSciently 
to  make  a  remark  as  to  the  connection  between 
"  rents  in  the  clouds  "  and  "  castles  in  the  air," 
a  proj)os  of  the  intended  expedition  coming  off 


THE    DEEBY   CENTENABY.  229 

as  anticipated  in  consequence  of  the  fine  day  ; 
and  when  the  joke  had  been  explained  at  some 
length  it  is  accepted  as  passable  under  the 
circumstances.  Presently  the  sun  absolutely 
begins  to  shine,  and  it  becomes  probable  that  a 
really  pleasant  day  may  see  the  solution  of  the 
great  and  mystic  problem,  "What  is  going  to 
win?" 

Not,  of  course,  that  the  question  has  not 
been  answered  conclusively  many  times  before. 
In  a  thousand  village  roadside  inns  the  health  of 
the  neighbouring  "crack"  has  been  drunk — for 
"the  rustic  cackle"  of  every  bourg  naturally 
points  to  the  horse  trained  in  the  district  as  the 
winner.  From  over  the  sea  and  from  all  quarters 
come  "  commissions "  in  favour  of  different 
animals.  On  the  Boulevards  the  question  is 
discussed  as  eagerly  as  in  London,  and  in  a 
dozen  clubs  every  evening  for  the  last  fortnight 
might  have  been  found  a  dozen  different  men 
ready  to  prove  to  demonstration  that  each  of  a 
dozen  horses  must  win.  Armed  with  the  latest 
editions  of  "  Kuff,"  a  small  bucketful  of  brandy 
and  soda,  and  a  long  cigar,  these  prophets  were 
prepared  to  sum  up  the  whole  matter;  and, 
further  assisted  by  some  private  and  particular 
information  about  some  wonderful  trial  (concern- 
ing which  very  often  owner  and  trainer  are  alike 


230  EACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

ignorant),  the  seers  end  with  a  triumphant 
assertion  that  ''  there's  no  getting  over  form  like 
that!" 

The  fine  weather  is  the  one  thing  wanting  to 
make  enjoyable  the  excursion  to  see  these 
various  certainties  come  ofi",  and  by  the  time  we 
are  under  way  it  is  bright  and  blue  overhead, 
while  even  Surrey  roads  cannot  be  dusty  after 
the  late  drenchings  they  have  had.  There  is  a 
stir  in  the  streets,  and  loungers  on  the  pavement 
turn  and  watch  the  traps,  hansoms,  drags, 
phaetons,  and  conveyances  generally  which  have 
a  racing  look  about  them.  A  couple  of  postilions 
in  blue  jackets  leave  no  mistake  about  their 
destination,  and  when  Wandsworth  is  passed, 
signs  and  tokens  of  the  Derby  Day  begin  to 
grow  frequent.  The  pleasant-looking  name  of  a 
popular  firm,  renowned  for  luncheons,  is  painted 
on  many  a  hamper  that  swings  beneath  many  a 
carriage ;  a  waggonette  conveying  a  party  of 
sportive  creatures  with  pink  veils  round  their 
hats  is  seen  in  the  distance,  and  looks  like  an 
itinerant  crop  of  rhododendrons ;  a  tax-cart  fall 
of  niggers  betokens  that  minstrelsy  will  not  be 
wanting ;  and  when  a  gentleman  who  has  been 
copiously  refreshing  himself  at  a  public-house 
takes  hold  of  the  reins  and  drives  incontinently 
into  a  ditch,  turning  his  friends  comfortably  over 


THE    DEEBY   CENTENAEY.  231 

on  to  the  top  of  tlie  hedge,  we  begin  to  feel  that 
we  are  indeed  bound  for  the  Derby.  Family 
parties  in  vehicles  of  varying  sorts  are  also 
frequent,  and  are  remarkable  for  the  fact  that 
it  seems  to  be  a  point  of  honour  on  the  part  of 
the  lady  occupants  to  bring  as  many  babies  as 
can  be  mustered  for  the  occasion. 

Whoever  desires  to  read  accounts  of  the  fun 
of  the  road  must,  however,  turn  to  the  works  of 
bygone  chroniclers.  Going  to  the  Derby  at  the 
present  time  is  a  proceeding  so  decorous  that  it 
might  even  be  termed  dull,  were  it  not  that  a 
drive  through  the  delightful  Surrey  lanes  is 
always  pleasant  at  this  time  of  year,  when  the 
verdure  is  at  its  freshest  and  greenest.  The 
Young  Ladies'  Schools,  moreover,  which  are  an 
interesting  feature  of  the  way,  seem  to  be  in 
flourishing  condition ;  and  severe  as  the  matrons 
sometimes  look  when  the  execution  wrought  by 
so  many  bright  eyes  on  the  passengers  of  a 
loaded  coach  is  made  too  apparent  by  the 
demeanour  of  the  victims,  the  girls  would  not 
be  at  the  windows  if  they  had  not  been  allowed 
a  holiday.  It  is  a  curious  thing  in  the  natural 
history  of  the  sex  that  the  most  austere  of 
maidens  will  smile  if  she  happens  to  catch  the 
respectful  glance  of  a  traveller  to  Epsom.  Some 
bold  young  men  disgrace  themselves  by  beckon- 


232  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

ing  to  ttie  prettiest  girls  behind  the  windows, 
closing  up  and  pointing  to  tlie  vacant  places  by 
their  sides,  pantomimic  invitations  to  come  to 
the  Derby  being  thus  conveyed ;  but  the  girls 
shake  their  heads,  blush,  and  look  down ;  stern 
mistresses  appear,  and  speak  evidently  in  terms 
of  reproof.  The  bold  young  men  press  their 
hands  to  their  hearts,  take  out  their  pocket- 
handkerchiefs,  and  are  dissolved  in  tears  at  the 
cruel  refusals  until  they  come  to  another  bevy 
of  beauty,  when  the  invitation  is  repeated. 

By  this  time  checks  are  frequent  and  progress 
is  slow.  Some  of  the  horses  that  have  been 
dragging  unmerciful  loads  give  signs  that  they 
have  gone  just  about  as  far  as  they  can,  but  the 
grand  stand  is  in  sight,  and  in  a  very  few 
minutes  we  are  at  the  top  of  the  ascent,  with 
the  famihar  picture  of  Epsom  Downs  on  the 
Derby  Day  spread  out  before  us.  The  roar  of 
the  ring  comes  across  the  course,  and  frequent 
offers  of  5  to  1  on  the  field  prove  that  the  race 
is  regarded  as  an  open  one. 

On  the  hill  all  our  old  friends  are  in  their 
usual  places.  The  Living  Skeleton's  ribs  are  as 
prominent  as  they  were  last  year,  and  the  "  Fat 
Woman,"  as  that  lady  is  called  in  bold,  blunt 
English,  has  laid  on  weight — that  is  to  say,  if 
the  pictorial  illustrations  outside  the  show  are  to 


THE    DERBY   CENTENAEY.  233 

be  believed.  The  young  gentlemen  who  dispose 
of  their  superfluous  wealth  by  selling  purses  full 
of  half-crowns  for  the  ridiculously  small  sum  of 
eighteenpence  are  hard  at  their  benevolent 
occupation.  The  Indian  Chief,  with  the  White- 
chapel  accent,  who  breaks  stones  with  his  fist,  is 
busily  employed ;  and  several  youths  in  dirty 
flannel  "jerseys  "  are  sparring  with  an  earnest- 
ness which  brings  in  a  plentiful  harvest  of  coppers. 
An  indolent  and  languid  generation  has  been 
considered  by  the  "  three  shies  a  penny " 
fraternity,  who  have  this  year  introduced  the 
idea  of  quietly  bowling  over  the  cocoanuts  with 
indiarubber  balls,  thus  saving  the  exertion  of 
throwing  heavy  sticks. 

A  drag  laden  with  artists  from  the  Italian 
Opera  is  on  the  hiU,  and  the  passengers  are 
seemingly  endeavouring  to  "  cast  "  an  opera 
appropriate  to  the  subject,  with  the  rider  of  the 
winning  horse  as  tenor,  the  trainer's  daughter  as 
prima  donna,  the  owner  for  bass,  and  an  evil- 
minded  bookmaker  for  first  baritone.  The  great 
business  of  the  day  is,  however,  luncheon,  a  final 
recapitulation  of  the  pros  and  cons  about  the 
favourites,  a  visit  to  the  paddock,  and  taking 
up  of  positions  for  the  race.  Nobody  cares  what 
has  won  the  first  event,  for  on  the  hill  the 
respective  merits  of  the  pigeon  pie  and  lobster 


234  BACECOURSE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

salad  are  considered  of  more  interest  than 
anything  else.  What  is  going  to  win  the  Derby 
is  the  burning  question  of  the  moment. 

A  strange  story  goes  round  about  one  of  Mr. 
*' Acton's"  horses,  named  Squirrel.  A  lady  is 
said  to  have  dreamed — and  unquestionably  did 
dream,  for  the  story  was  current  many  days 
before  the  Derby — that  she  was  alone  on  the 
Downs,  and  suddenly  saw  a  squirrel  run  up  the 
winning  post.  The  lady  told  her  friends,  wlio 
had  not  been  aware  that  there  was  a  horse  of 
that  name  in  the  race,  and  they,  on  discovering 
the  fact,  came  to  the  conclusion  that  "there 
must  be  something  in  it." 

A  curious  calculation  in  the  doctrine  of 
averages  pointed  to  Zut  as  the  winner,  from  the 
circumstance  that,  though  there  are  many  horses 
in  training  with  monosyllabic  titles,  one  has 
not  come  in  first  for  the  Derby  for  over  fifty 
years.  On  the  hill,  however,  the  favourite  was 
decidedly  Victor  Chief,  and  when  presently  the 
horses  came  out  to  parade  the  impression  in  his 
favour  was  greatly  increased.  "  There's  the 
Squirrel,"  somebody  says — "  dark  blue,  yellow 
cap.  There's  another  of  them,  though,  Sir 
Bevys.  Who  knows  anything  about  him?" 
"  He's  one  of  the  Eothschild  lot,  and  they  think 
he's   rather   a  good  horse,   but  Hayhoe  hasn't 


THE    DEEBT   CENTENARY.  235 

had  anything  to  get  a  line  with.  Fordham's 
riding,"  somebody  else  replies.  "  Eather  a 
good-looking  horse,  but  Fordham's  luck  is  all 
against  him  at  the  Derby,"  the  first  speaker 
remarks;  ''Victor  Chief  looks  magnificent." 
A  young  gentleman  who  has  been  investing 
heavily  on  the  Duke  of  Westminster's  colt  most 
cordially  acquiesces,  and  turns  up  an  oft-conned 
page  in  "  Euff's  Guide"  to  show  a  friend  what 
Victor  Chief  did  with  Peter  last  year,  how  his 
two-year-old  form  was  superior  to  anything  else, 
and  to  explain  why  he  7nust  w^in.  The  nigger 
minstrels  cease  their  songs,  feeling  that  an 
absurd  interest  in  the  speed  of  a  number  of 
horses  has  an  attraction  over  melodious  reminis- 
cences of  the  "  Old  Kentucky  Shore  "  ;  and  the 
gipsies  pause  in  their  palmistry,  for  a  roar 
proclaims  the  start. 

In  line,  like  a  squadron  of  cavalry,  the 
twenty- three  runners  get  off.  Victor  Chief's 
backer  shuts  up  and  pockets  his  "Kuff"  and 
pulls  hard  at  an  unlighted  cigar  as  the  cavalcade 
comes  tearing  round  Tattenham  Corner.  Like 
a  kaleidoscope,  the  riders  sweep  round,  the 
daring  jockey  who  shoots  the  rails  looking  very 
like  falling  over  them ;  and,  as  they  come  into 
the  straight,  a  roar  for  Victor  Chief  sets  a  good 
many  pulses  beating  quickly.     But  the  favourites 


236  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

"  shut  up  "  one  by  one,  disaster  overtaking  too 
credulous  backers  with  lightning  speed.  A 
dark-blue  jacket  flashes  past  the  post,  a  pink 
follows,  and  then  comes  the  primrose  and  rose 
hoops.  Up  go  the  numbers  18,  13,  30.  Sir 
Bevys  has  won,  Palmbearer  is  second,  and  Lord 
Rosebery  has  landed  his  place  bets  about  Yis- 
conti.  At  first  it  is  thought  that  the  Squirrel 
has  brought  about  the  dreaming  prophecy,  but 
it  is  his  stable  companion.  Truly  the  proverb 
that  declares  "  the  way  to  find  out  the  winner  is 
to  watch  the  judge's  board  "  is  a  very  wise  one. 
So  ends  the  one  hundredth  Derby. 


THE  LADIES'   DAY  AT  EPSOM. 

Juliet  spoke  very  rudely  of  the  sun,  termiug 
him  ''  garish,"  and  generally  disputing  his  claims 
to  admiration ;  hut  then  it  is  evident  that  Juliet 
was  not  going  to  the  Oaks.  It  was  certainly 
with  anxious  expectation  that  the  luminary  was 
watched  on  the  eventful  morning,  and  eager  eyes 
read  out  from  the  papers  the  verdict  as  to  what 
sort  of  weather  the  Americans  had  decided  on 
providing  for  us.  ''Light,  variable  airs  or 
southerly  breezes.  Warm ;  cloudy,"  was  what 
had  been  predicted  about  the  prospects  of  the 
Ladies'  Day;  and  any  adverse  opinions  which 
might  occur  to  the  home  authorities  were 
triumphantly  refuted  by  this  comfortable  sen- 
tence. Whether  young  ladies  would  have  felt 
equally  certain  that  the  prophet  must  be  right  if 
he  had  foretold  storms  and  unsettled  weather  is 
quite  another  matter ;  but  he  omitted  all  men- 
tion of  rain,  and  tender  creatures,  who  had  been 
looking  forward  to  the  Oaks,  were  quite  prepared 
to  applaud  the  excellence  and  accuracy  of  his 


238  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

jnclgDient.  So  it  happened  that  in  due  course  of 
time  an  enthusiastic  young  party  were  landed  at 
Victoria  Station,  soon  afterwards  comfortably 
installed  in  a  railway  train  bound  for  Epsom, 
and,  after  a  short  drive  across  the  Heath,  dis- 
embarked at  the  back  of  the  grand  stand. 

When  people  can  have  their  own  way  they 
are  usually  good-tempered,  and  from  the  height 
of  a  box  in  the  west  gallery  there  is  plenty  to 
admire  in  the  scenery  of  the  Surrey  Downs  if 
only  one  is  in  a  humour  to  make  the  best  of  it. 
Flags  flutter  in  the  breeze,  and  the  sun,  about 
whose  appearance  there  is  now  no  sort  of 
mistake,  makes  radiant  the  tops  of  the  tents 
wherein  the  million — or  that  portion  of  it 
which  has  come  to  the  races — is  busily  engaged 
in  lunching  already.  Multitudes  move  to  and 
fro,  and  the  picture  of  the  hill  forms  a  striking 
contrast  to  another  aspect  of  it,  known  to  men 
who  have  hunted  with  the  Surrey  Union. 

Across  the  almost  deserted  Heath  on  a  morn- 
ing when  hounds  meet  at  Epsom  grand  stand 
solitary  horsemen  in  pink,  with  now  and  again 
pairs  and  trios  in  less  striking  colours  perhaps, 
but  at  any  rate  in  boots  and  breeches,  are 
accustomed  to  canter  ;  for  in  the  coverts  away 
to  the  left  there  is  a  very  tolerable  chance  of 
finding  a  fox ;    and  hunting   men   speculate   as 


THE    ladies'    day   AT    EPSOM.  239 

to  whether  there  is  a  Utter  of  those  merry, 
mischievous,  funny  little  cubs  which  are  so  play- 
ful and  pretty  at  this  time  of  year,  and  which, 
if  they  escape  catastrophes  next  September, 
when  cub  hunting  is  on,  may  hereafter  afford 
a  gallop  over  Surrey  hills  and  vales. 

It  is  for  racing  that  we  are  here  to-day,  how- 
ever, and  a  young  lady  of  our  party,  indignant 
at  the  current  supposition  that  girls  know 
nothing  of  the  sport,  has  adopted  very  strong 
views  on  a  certain  subject.  She  is  exceedingly 
bitter  and  sarcastic  about  the  fact  that  a  certain 
American  six-year-old  was  not  allowed  to  start 
for  the  Derby,  and  considers  the  prohibition 
very  mean  on  the  part  of  English  racing 
authorities.  These  deeply  rooted  opinions  she 
proceeds  to  express  to  the  most  turfy  man  of  the 
party,  young  Saddler,  who  imagines  a  reply  to 
the  effect  that  the  horse  is  a  six-year-old  will  be 
sufficient  to  put  the  case  in  a  convincing  light. 

''That  doesn't  matter  a  bit!"  is  the 
astonishing  answer. 

"But,"  he  explains,  "only  three-year-olds 
run  for  the  Derby." 

Had  Saddler  been  told  that  the  solar  system 
was  out  of  order,  that  something  had  gone 
wrong  with  the  Gulf  Stream,  or  that  any  other 
convulsion  of  nature  had  startled  humanity,  he 


240  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

would  have  taken  it  calmly ;  but  the  idea  of  a 
six-year-old  running  for  the  Derby  knocks  the 
breath  out  of  his  body,  and  he  is  speechless 
when  the  pretty  little  satirist  of  the  Jockey  Club 
pronounces  his  explanation  "  only  an  excuse." 

"You  let  the  American  horse  run  until  he 
beat  you,  and  then  you  wouldn't  let  him  run 
any  more ;  and  even  if  there  is  some  rule  about 
it,  you  needn't  have  minded  with  a  foreign 
horse." 

By  this  time  the  bell  has  rung,  and  the 
course  is  cleared  for  the  first  race ;  but  the 
Selling  Welter  Handicap,  not  having  a  very 
exciting  appearance,  an  opportunity  arises  for 
passing  over  to  the  hill  and  investigating  the 
nature  of  the  various  entertainments,  which  can 
only  be  carried  on  with  so  much  blowing  of 
whistles,  beating  of  gongs,  and  general  riot. 
The  shows  are  few  in  number,  considering  that 
this  is  the  Derby  week,  and  that  the  Derby 
week  is  the  great  racing  holiday  "^f  the  year, 
when  the  holiday  is,  in  fact,  with  many  people 
of  much  greater  importance  than  the  racing. 
But  if  the  showmen  are  few  in  number,  they  are 
admirable  specimens  of  their  profession,  and  are 
gifted  with  a  full  share  of  their  proverbial  wit 
and  shrewdness. 

Sad  to  say,  the  two  principal  shows  do  not 


THE  ladies'  day  AT  EPSOM.        241 

seem  to  be  on  good  terms,  which  is  the  more 
imfortunate  because  they  are  placed  side  by  side, 
and  any  sarcasm  that  may  be  uttered  is  sure  to 
strike  home.  One  of  them  has  the  Living 
Skeleton,  the  Fat  Woman,  the  Giant,  a  thirteen- 
pound  rat,  and  a  curious  collection  of  dogs ; 
while  the  other  has  two  Zulu  women,  captured 
at  great  expense ;  and  it  is  the  superiority  of 
the  human  show,  over  the  rival  which  includes 
animals,  that  points  the  darts  of  the  proprietor. 
Yet  another  rival  is  in  the  field,  however — a 
two-headed  woman,  with  a  perfectly  preposterous 
number  of  arms,  eyes,  ears,  and  noses,  and  her 
proud  owner  announces,  lest  any  sceptic  should 
doubt,  that  he  has  ''  medical  men  kept  inside 
ready  to  take  their  oaths  that  she's  genuine." 
A  photographer  strives  to  induce  people  to  be 
*'  taken "  by  displaying  the  highly  coloured 
picture  of  a  beautiful  gentleman  in  baggy  white 
trousers,  seated  on  a  lovely  horse  of  the  most 
prancing  description,  and  clearly  so  much  struck 
by  an  exhibition  of  photographs  (obviously 
these)  that  he  is  bent  on  getting  off  and  being 
portrayed  as  soon  as  ever  his  horse  will  give  him 
an  opportunity. 

^  Another  show  is  painful.  Outside  is  Mr. 
Merryman,  with  painted  face  and  clown's  attire  ; 
but  poor  little  Mr.  Merryman  cannot  be  more 

16 


242  RACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

than  seven  years  old,  if  he  is  so  much,  and  he 
cuts  his  small  jokes  with  an  effort  at  cheerful- 
ness that  is  strangely  saddening.  The  child- 
clown  is  saying  his  lesson — a  lesson  learnt  with 
study  and  appHcation,  as  any  one  may  tell,  and 
he  struggles  bravely  to  do  as  he  has  been 
taught. 

We  pass  on  to  the  next  door,  where  a  lady 
and  gentleman  sword  swallowers  are  busily 
devouring  whole  armouries,  if  one  may  credit 
the  picture  outside,  which  give  a  gentleman 
frantically  thrusting  swords  down  the  throat  of 
the  gifted  creatures  within,  while  gorgeously 
dressed  spectators  look  on  with  combined  horror 
and  admiration.  Another  show — so  low  has  the 
poor  old  business  fallen  in  these  incredulous  days 
— contains  a  medium,  who  is  ready  to  produce 
spirit  writing,  and  who  spells  it  "  writeing." 
Banjos,  tambourines,  drums,  and  trumpets  are 
flying  about  the  air,  and  the  authenticity  of  the 
whole  business  is  guaranteed  by  a  gentleman 
who  signs  himself  "  Doctor  Slade." 

While  inspecting  such  novelties  and  wonders 
as  these,  time  naturally  flies,  and  a  bell  pro- 
claims the  clearing  of  the  course  for  the  great 
race  of  the  day ;  and  by  the  time  we  are  back 
again  in  the  stand,  the  police  are  making  some 
way  with  their  difiicult  task. 


THE  ladies'  day  AT  EPSOM.  '  .      243 

"Which  is  the  Derby  dog?"  a  young  lady 
of  the  party  innocently  asks,  as  a  retriever  and 
a  nondescript  brown  creature  trot  down  past  the 
stand,  for  the  idea  seems  to  be  current  that  an 
animal  is  kept  somewhere  on  the  Downs  for  the 
express  purpose  of  running  up  the  course  when 
it  should  be  alike  clear  of  dogs  and  men. 

The  portly  police  sergeant,  on  his  well-trained 
horse,  disposes  of  the  stragglers,  and  the  cry, 
"  Here  they  come  !  "  is  uttered  on  the  stand. 

There  are  to  be  only  eight  runners  for  the 
Oaks,  for  of  the  nine  coloured  on  the  card 
No.  8  is  an  absentee.  Led  by  the  Duke  of 
Westminster's  Adventure,  with  Mr.  Jenning's 
Japonica  in  attendance,  Mr.  Cookson's  Coro- 
mandel  II.  next,  and  Lord  Falmouth's  Leap 
Year  following,  the  runners  for  the  Oaks 
approach,  and  Leap  Year  displays  a  good  deal 
of  what  dealers  call  playfulness,  and  timid 
horsemen  temper. 

The  favourite.  Wheel  of  Fortune,  is  last  but 
one,  preceded  by  Philippine  and  followed  by 
Amice,  as  they  parade  past  the  stand,  and  then 
they  turn  to  canter.  Wheel  of  Fortune's  mag- 
nificent stride  making  those  who  have  taken 
liberties  with  her  on  the  off-chance  repent  their 
temerity.  Philippine,  however,  comes  in  for  her 
share  of  admiration.     She  is  pronounced  to  be  a 


244  RACECOURSE   AND   COVERT   SIDE. 

nice  easy  goer,  and  her  trainer  thinks  he  has  a 
good  chance.  Odds  of  5  to  2,  and  even  3  to  ] , 
on  the  favourite  are  demanded,  and  the  thought 
of  the  awful  consequences  that  would  ensue 
should  Leap  Year  win  instead  of  the  "  Wheel" 
strike  terror  to  the  hearts  of  daring  ones  who 
have  plunged. 

''  They  are  fielding  pretty  hard,  and  I've  laid 
the  odds  like  fun,"  a  nervous  young  gentleman 
with  rather  white  lips  remarks,  as  he  dis- 
tinguishes the  roar  of  the  betting-ring,  and  a 
strong  eulogy  on  Philippine 's  good  looks  does 
not  tend  to  increase  his  equanimity. 

The  red-hatted  gentry  on  the  hill  grow  frantic 
about  this  period,  and  offer  any  sort  of  odds 
against  anything  in  their  anxiety  to  do  business  ; 
but  suddenly  discussion  is  interrupted  by  a  roar 
that  they  are  off.  At  a  slow  pace  they  traverse 
the  far  side  of  the  course,  pink  and  black  hoops, 
Coromandel  II.,  leading. 

As  they  approach  Tattenham  Corner,  the 
pace  improves.  Bound  the  sharp  turning  they 
rush,  Archer  on  Wheel  of  Fortune  next  the 
rails. 

"It's  all  over! — no,  it  is  not,  though! 
Archer's  riding  !  "  one  of  the  favourite's  backers 
exclaims  in  dismay. 

But    though   the    race   does   not   look  like 


THE  ladies'  day  AT  EPSOM.  245 

a    3    to    1    certainty,    Lord    Falmouth's  filly 
shakes  off  her  opponents  without  difficulty,  and 

gets  easily  home.     Up  go  the  numbers  9,  3,  1 

— Wheel    of    Fortune,    Coromandel    II.,  and 

Adventure.       Public    form,     outraged    by  the 
Derby,  is  vindicated  by  the  Oaks. 


A  GOODWOOD  CUP  DAY. 

Feom  the  appearance  of  Chichester  on  the 
morning  of  the  Cup  Day,  it  is  plain  that  the 
great  day  has  come.  It  might  have  seemed  that 
on  previous  race  mornings  the  Sussex  city  had 
exhausted  itself  in  the  way  of  carriages  and 
horses ;  but  the  crowd  in  the  station  yard  is 
denser  than  ever,  and  how  vehicles  farthest 
away  from  the  exit  gates  are  to  get  through 
the  jostling,  shouting  crowd,  is  a  sort  of 
Chinese  puzzle,  which  only  a  combination  of 
luck  and  good  coachmanship  could  solve.  From 
both  directions  trains  arrive,  bringing  their  loads 
of  passengers  to  swell  the  throng.  The  drivers 
see  their  chance,  and  all  sorts  of  prices  are  asked 
for  the  journey  up  the  hill.  "Take  you  up  by 
yourself  for  a  five-pound  note,  sir,  'cos  I  see 
you'd  like  to  go  like  a  gentleman,"  says  the 
driver  of  a  hansom  cab  to  a  sallow  youth,  who  is 
half-ashamed  and  half-delighted  at  the  emphasis 
on  the  pronoun  ;  but  the  youth  gets  in.  There 
is  a  far  greater  number  of  private  carriages  than 


A   GOODWOOD    CUP    DAY.  247 

usual,  for  thougli  the  actual  racing  is  by  no 
means  better  to-day  than  on  the  other  three 
days  of  the  meeting,  the  Cup  Day  has.  a  jprestige 
of  its  own. 

In  many  pleasant  country  houses  girls  have 
awakened  early  (not  perhaps  without  remem- 
brance of  the  dress  which  has  occupied  so  much 
thought,  and  is  to  form  one  of  tlie  toilettes  on 
the  lawn),  and  gazed  eagerly  at  the  sky  to  see 
whether  dim  clouds  from  the  south-west  threaten 
rain.  All  is  well,  we  will  hope.  A  fine  blue  sky 
and  the  promise  of  fine  weather  brighten  bright 
eyes  ;  and  in  due  time  John  Coachman,  who,  at 
all  times  a  stickler  for  tidiness,  has  turned  out 
his  horses  and  harness  with  exceptional  care^ 
drives  his  load  with  much  dignity  and  very 
square  arms  through  the  unaccustomed  crowd ; 
for  here  are  omnibuses,  cabs,  barouches,  shandy- 
dans,  waggons,  tax-carts,  phaetons,  and,  in  fact^ 
everything  that  goes  on  wheels,  drawn  by  horses 
as  various  as  the  vehicles. 

The  Sussex  peasant  trudges  along,  if  it  happen 
that  the  hay  is  in,  and  the  wheat  on  his  master's 
farm  not  yet  ready  to  be  cut ;  for  the  early 
southern  harvest  is  often  reaped  during  Goodwood 
week,  and  here  in  many  fields,  as  we  drive 
past,  the  sheaves  stand  in  array,  the  golden 
corn  bows  its  plentiful  head,  and  the  labourer, 


248  KACECOUESE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

sickle  in  hand,  pauses  for  a  moment  to  wipe  his 
brow  and  look  at  the  passing  throng. 

Farmers  in  their  tax-carts,  with  smiling 
wives  and  rosy-cheeked  daughters,  who  would 
like  to  smile  if  they  felt  sure  that  it  would  be 
proper,  swell  the  procession  which  winds  along 
the  shady  roads — where  overhanging  branches 
brush  the  shoulders  of  men  on  drags — and  toils 
tediously  on  in  an  apparently  unending  stream 
up  the  laborious  hill  to  the  course. 

Perhaps  the  carriage  in  which  we  journey 
to  the  course  passes  through  the  Duke  of 
Richmond's  park,  which  looks  delightfully  fresh 
and  green  as  we  turn  into  the  gates  from  the 
dusty  road.  Over  the  house  the  Royal  standard 
is  flying,  and  indeed  in  a  group  of  the  Duke  of 
Richmond's  visitors  standing  around  the  door- 
way, chatting  and  smoking,  his  Royal  Highness 
the  Prince  of  Wales  is  a  prominent  figure. 
Here  are  the  inevitable  gipsies  charging  about 
on  barebacked  horses  to  offer  their  services  as 
leaders  up  the  terribly  steep  hill.  How  theii- 
horses  are  employed  during  the  rest  of  the  year 
when  there  is  no  racing  at  Goodwood  is  a  mystery ; 
but  evidently,  h-om  the  manner  in  which  their 
masters  stick  on,  gipsies  must  have  constant 
practice  in  riding.  Another  way  is  to  skirt  the 
park,  and  pass  by  the  side  of  the  Birdless  Grove, 


A    GOODWOOD    CUP    DAY.  249 

and  though  this  is  a  little  further,  there  is  not 
so  severe  a  hill  to  surmount. 

This  is,  of  course,  the  great  day  for  dress, 
and  even  before  the  racing  begins  the  lawn  is 
brilliant ;  delicate  creams  and  ivories  are  popular, 
sometimes  unrelieved  and  sometimes  trimmed 
and  decked  with  those  new  colour's  of  which 
only  milliners  know  the  names,  and  about  which, 
probably,  milliners  differ — crushed  strawberry, 
salmon,  Venetian  red,  decided  crimsons,  and 
other  ruby  shades  perhaps  predominating.  In 
certain  cases  ladies  appear  to  have  sought  for 
characteristic  dresses.  Here  is  a  pink  with  a 
flowing  plaid  sash,  suggestive  of  the  Highlands ; 
there  a  dark  brown  with  a  cuirass  of  gold  lace, 
significant  of  a  Hussar  regiment ;  an  olive 
green,  trimmed  with  a  vivid  Persian  pattern, 
containing  all  hues ;  a  black  and  red  dress,  the 
wearer  of  which  has  on  red  shoes  with  black  tips, 
borrowed,  it  would  seem,  from  the  opera  houffe 
stage ;  an  ivory  white,  with  a  peep  of  rich 
crimson  at  the  bosom ;  a  pink  continued  from 
the  dress  to  the  cheeks  of  the  wearer,  where 
what  is  intended  to  pass  for  the  bloom  of  health 
is  very  unsymmetrically  arranged. 

Of  what  is  called  the  fun  of  the  fair  there  is 
little  or  none  on  the  course.  A  poor  melancholy 
dog  does  some  tricks  in  a  pathetic  fashion.     The 


250  EACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

conjuror,  who  is  always  going  to  perform  some 
marvellous  and  unprecedented  feat  when  his 
kind  friends  have  made  up  an  amount  which 
somehow  is  never  quite  reached,  is  eloquent 
on  the  subject  of  his  prowess ;  and  those  energetic 
tipsters  who  grow  red  and  frantic  in  their 
exertions  to  persuade  the  world  in  general  to 
buy  a  guide  to  certain  fortune  for  the  ridiculously 
small  sum  of  sixpence,  are  bawling  themselves 
hoarse.  They  have  all  enjoyed  the  confidence 
of  the  noblest  patrons  of  the  turf,  but  have  been 
a  little  unsteady,  and  come  to  consequent  grief; 
but  they  are  still  behind  the  scenes — they  know  all 
that  can  be  known,  and  if  they  do  not  sell  you  a 
card  containing  the  name  of  the  winner  for  the 
absurdly  inadequate  price  mentioned  they  will 
forfeit  ten  pounds.  The  reasons  why  they  abstain 
from  putting  their  capital  on  the  winner,  and  so 
freeing  themselves  from  the  pressing  need  for 
sixpences,  they  omit  to  mention. 

Meantime  the  royal  party  has  driven  up. 
On  the  balcony  above  the  lawn  the  Princess  is 
smiHngly  talking  to  her  friends ;  the  Prince  is 
probably  strolling  about  under  the  beeches,  where 
servants  are  busy  laying  the  tables  for  the 
luncheon,  which  is  one  of  the  features  of  the 
day.  A  line  of  drags  three  deep  is  forming  at 
the  further  end  of  the  lawn,  and  on  the  course 


A    GOODWOOD    CUP    DAY.  251 

the  huntsman  and  whip  of  Lord  March's  hounds 
in  the  yellow  coats,  red  cuffs  and  collars  of  the 
hunt,  have  taken  their  places. 

One  of  the  most  peculiar  spectacles  which 
Goodwood  presents,  and  one  the  most  interesting 
for  sensible  racegoers  who  do  not  find  the  chief 
attraction  in  the  ring,  is  gained  by  an  ascent  of 
Trundle  HiU,  at  the  end  of  the  course,  part  of 
the  way  up  which  competitors  sometimes  go  in 
a  race  before  they  can  be  stopped,  when  full  of 
running.  At  the  top  the  view  over  the  wooded 
country,  with  the  noble  trees,  its  patches  of 
woodlands,  golden  harvest  fields  and  green 
meadows,  with  the  waves  of  the  Solent  sparkling 
in  the  distance,  is  altogether  delightful.  The 
lawn  seems  like  a  bed  of  moving  tulips,  and  the 
broad  course,  probably  the  best  in  England,  a 
narrow  green  roadway  between  the  dark  border 
formed  by  the  crowd  in  the  rings  and  opposite. 

A  couple  of  races  of  no  great  importance 
are  run,  races  with  which  social  Goodwood, 
unless  friends  own  competitors,  have  little  to  do. 
Luncheon  time  is  coming,  and  with  many 
anxious  glances  upwards  from  kindly  hosts  and 
hostesses,  to  say  nothing  of  hungry  guests, 
parties  are  arranging  themselves  round  hospitable 
tablecloths.  If  on  the  beech  leaves  overhead 
the  raindrops  should  begin  to  patter  down  lunch 


252  EACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

is  of  course  ruined.  Into  the  champagne  glasses 
they  drip,  and  by  no  means  improve  the  dehcate 
flavour  of  the  '74  Perrier  Jouet ;  the  Mayon- 
naise presently  assumes  a  spotty  appearance ; 
leaves  fall  from  the  flowers  which  tasteful  luxury 
provides  in  water  glasses  as  at  a  dinner-table  ;  a 
moisture  not  its  own  is  given  to  the  pigeon  pie  ; 
and  a  sort  of  rain  gravy  forms  in  dishes  of  cold 
chicken  ;  ladies  pull  up  the  hoods  of  their  ulsters, 
men  turn  up  their  collars,  umbrellas  spring  up 
all  down  the  beeches  like  a  growth  of  magical 
mushrooms. 

But,  happily,  to-day  all  is  bright  and  cheery, 
the  latter  quahty  being  pleasantly  superinduced 
by  popping  corks,  and  the  only  question  to 
perplex  speculative  lunchers  is  what  will  win 
the  Cup,  which  is  on  view  on  a  bracket  close  to 
where  the  Princess  of  Wales  is  sitting  in  the 
royal  balcony. 

In  the  paddock  a  crowd,  in  which  many 
ladies  are  prominent,  makes  locomotion  difficult, 
and  two  or  three  big  groups  show  where  the 
favourites  are  being  saddled.  In  due  course  up 
go  the  numbers.  There  are  five  runners,  but 
it  is  generally  understood  that  the  race  lies 
between  a  famous  Newmarket  five-year-old  mare, 
carrying  the  chocolate  jacket  and  yellow  sleeves 
of  a   well-known   owner,   and   a   three-year-old 


A    GOODWOOD    CUP   DAT.  253 

from  a  northern  stable,  an  animal  believed  by 
his  friends  to  be  invincible.  Lord  Falmouth 
has  a  representative,  and  there  is  an  American 
mare,  her  first  appearance  on  any  English 
racecourse. 

Presently  they  emerge  from  the  paddock  and 
walk  down  the  course,  the  ring  hard  at  work 
laying  short  odds  against  the  Newmarket  mare 
and  the  north-country  horse,  which  bears  a  dark- 
blue  jacket  with  silver  braid.  The  mare  is 
sweating,  and  does  not  altogether  please  when 
first  seen,  nor  does  her  somewhat  dotty  action 
in  the  preliminary  canter  prepossess  one  in  her 
favour.  She  is  always  seen  at  her  best,  however, 
when  extended,  and  her  grand  quarters  look  like 
carrying  a  heavy  weight  with  ease.  Her  friends 
are  cheerfully  confident ;  Newmarket  declares 
for  her;  while  the  north-country  is  all  for 
the  chestnut  three-year-old.  Lord  Falmouth's 
mare  switches  her  tail  continually  as  she  walks 
and  caliters,  but  she  looks  well ;  and  the 
American  is  seen  to  be  a  handsome  racing-like 
animal. 

The  stands  are  densely  thronged  as  the  five 
horses  make  their  way  to  the  starting-post.  In 
the  stewards'  enclosure,  men  whose  faces  are 
familiar  in  London  society,  many  well  known  in 
the  Houses  of  Lords  and  Commons,  are  closely 


254  EACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

packed.  On  the  opposite  side  tlie  rails  are 
thickly  lined,  and  Trundle  Hill,  at  the  end  of  the 
course,  has  swarms  of  people  on  it,  reaching  in 
groups  half-way  to  the  summit.  The  north- 
country  horse  is  a  decided  favourite  as  the 
starter  takes  the  field  in  hand.  His  red  flag 
falls,  the  white  advance  flag  is  lowered,  and 
the  five  are  despatched  on  their  journey.  The 
American  mare  rushes  to  the  front,  and  leads 
the  field  a  merry  dance  down  the  straight,  past 
the  paddock,  the  stands,  and  the  lawn ;  her 
level,  easy  stride  seems  to  take  so  little  out  of 
her  that  many  begin  to  wonder  whether  she  may 
not  win  after  all.  So  the  field  turn  out  into  the 
country,  sweep  round  the  hill,  and  for  a  few 
seconds  are  lost  to  sight,  the  American  chestnut 
still  well  in  advance.  But  when  they  reappear 
at  the  top  of  the  hill  and  enter  the  straight  for 
home,  good  glasses  show  that  the  American  has 
had  quite  enough  of  it.  The  favourites  rush  to 
the  front,  the  chocolate,  yellow  sleeves  and  dark- 
blue,  silver  braid  come  on  together,  side  by  side 
with  the  magpie  jacket ;  behind  them  the  others, 
dropping  further  and  further  into  the  rear.  The 
partisans  of  the  mare  and  the  horse  shout  their 
hardest,  but  for  the  mare  shouts  are  unavailing. 
It  is  too  pleasantly  evident  to  backers  of  the 
northern  colt,  and  too  painfully  plain  to  those 


A    GOODWOOD    CUP    DAY.  255 

whose  fortunes  are  bound  up  with  Newmarket, 
that  the  race  is  for  the  former.  The  colt  is 
going  much  the  stronger  of  the  two,  and  in 
another  moment  the  whip  of  the  mare's  jockey 
is  in  the  air.  The  dark-bhie  jacket  forges  ahead, 
with  an  increasing  lead  at  every  stride,  and 
passes  the  post  an  easy  winner.  No.  8  is  hoisted 
over  the  judge's  box,  followed  by  No.  1,  the  mare  ; 
Lord  Falmouth  third.  As  the  horses  pull  up  at 
the  bottom  of  the  hill,  a  dense  crowd  masses 
around  them  from  the  hill  and  the  course, 
leaving  a  narrow  lane  for  them  to  return  through 
to  the  paddock,  where  loud  cheers  are  raised  for 
the  good  horse  and  his  rider. 

"A  beautiful  race,  wasn't  it  ?  "  a  pretty  girl 
on  the  lawn  says  enthusiastically  to  her  com- 
panion, who  has  heavily  supported  the  wrong 
one. 

''Very!"  he  replies,  not,  however,  with  a 
very  happy  expression  on  his  face. 


A  DAY  WITH   TOM  CANNON. 

A  MAN  who  loves  horses  can  see  few  pleasanter 
sights,  as  he  sits  at  a  cheery  and  comfortable 
breakfast  table,  than  a  string  of  sheeted 
thoroughbreds  file  ^Dast  the  window ;  and  such 
was  the  spectacle  that  met  my  eyes  as  I  gazed 
out  on  the  picturesque  Hampshire  road,  opposite 
the  house  where  dwells  the  best  all-round 
horseman  in  England — Tom  Cannon. 

"  The  trap  will  be  round  directly.  We'll 
drive  up  to  the  downs  this  morning,  and  then 
we'll  ride  up  and  see  the  jumpers  this  afternoon, 
if  it  isn't  too  hard,"  Cannon  says,  as  he  rises 
from  his  seat  just  beneath  the  picture  of  himself, 
in  a  white  jacket  and  blue  belt,  on  Eobert  the 
Devil,  which  hangs  behind  him — a  reminiscence 
of  the  Leger  of  1880,  which,  with  Shotover's 
Derby  and  Two  Thousand,  Pilgrim's  Two 
Thousand,  the  One  Thousands  of  the  same 
mare  and  of  Eepulse,  the  Oaks  of  Brigantine, 
not  to  mention  victories  on  Isonomy,  Marie 
Stuart,  Foxhall,  Thurio,  Pageant,  Kermesse, 
Geheimniss,  and  other  heroes  and  heroines  of 


A  DAY  WITH  TOM  CANNON.  257 

the  turf,  give  to  Tom  Cannon's  name  a  leading 
place  in  the  history  of  English  sport. 

It  does  not  take  long  to  make  a  start,  but  as 
the  horse's  feet  ring  on  the  road  the  prospects 
of  jumping  in  the  afternoon,  not  to  say  of 
galloping  this  morning,  seem  very  doubtful. 
But  then  I  do  not  know  the  glorious  downs  on 
which  these  horses  are  trained,  a  splendid 
expanse  of  turf,  including  Stockbridge  race- 
course and  its  surroundings,  which,  as  I  presently 
find,  frost  seem  powerless  to  affect ;  and  as  we 
trot  on  in  the  waggonette  we  soon  overtake  and 
pass  the  long  string  which  forms  one  of  the 
contingents  which  the  indefatigable  young 
trainer  has  under  his  charge. 

The  cold  touches  up  the  thin-skinned 
youngsters,  some  of  which  seize  the  excuse 
afforded  by  the  passing  wheels  to  dance  or  kick 
a  bit,  as  is  so  often  the  nature  of  the  thorough- 
bred horse  on  the  slightest  provocation.  They 
are  soon  quieted,  however,  and  as  we  alight  and 
walk  up  a  steep  hill,  Tom  Cannon  devotes 
himself  to  the  inspection  of  a  sample  of  black 
oats,  brought  by  Olding,  his  faithful  lieutenant 
and  charge  d'affaires  when  the  master  is  away, 
donning  his  own  scarlet  and  white  hoops.  Lord 
Eosebery's  primrose  and  rose  hoops,  the  white 
and  blue  spots,  and  the  other  jackets  which  are 

17 


258  EAOECOUESE   AND   COVERT    SIDE. 

usually  associated  with  the  Houghton  establish- 
ment, and  are  so  often  seen  nearing  the  winning- 
post  well  in  the  van. 

As  my  Mend  examines  the  sample  and 
discusses  the  effect  of  the  thick-skinned  white 
oat  on  the  digestion  of  horses,  I  am  puzzled  to 
know  whether  the  farmer  or  the  veterinary 
surgeon  predominates ;  but  when  presently  we 
drive  on  to  the  downs,  and  Olding  is  directed  to 
bid  his  forces  canter  the  five  furlongs  up  the 
hill,  the  trainer  (though  he  in  himseK  must 
include  many  requisites  if  he  is  to  conduct  his 
business  to  successful  ends)  comes  prominently 
uppermost. 

The  "  schoolmaster "  leads  the  way,  walks 
up  to  a  certain  spot  and  sets  off,  followed  by  his 
youthful  companions,  some  of  whom  begin  with 
a  buck  and  a  plunge,  soon,  however,  settling 
down  to  their  easy  stride,  snorting  and  exhaling 
the  fresh,  keen  morning  air  as  they  go.  Shrewd 
remarks  on  the  breed  and  action  of  the  different 
animals  fall  from  the  young  trainer,  and  it  is 
evident  that  he  is  intimately  acquainted  with 
the  pecuHarities  of  every  horse  under  his  charge. 
And  then,  as  is  natural,  we  fall  to  talking  of  the 
horse  and  his  rider  as  we  stroll  about  the  downs, 
where  Danebury  and  Stockbridge  stands  are  the 
leading  objects  in  the  landscape. 


A   DAY   WITH   TOM   CANNON.  259 

Tom  Cannon  has  little  difficulty  in  keeping 
down  to  some  8  st.  7  lb.,  and  can  speedily  get  off 
a  pound  or  two  if  requisite.  He  has,  I  need 
hardly  say,  a  very  great  many  more  offers  of 
mounts  than  he  cares  to  or  can  accept,  and  his 
condemnation  of  the  low  handicap  minimum, 
against  which  his  relative,  William  Day,  protests 
so  forcibly  and  so  unanswerably,  is  not  in  the 
slightest  degree  influenced  by  personal  con- 
siderations. While  recognizing  the  merit  of 
many  boys,  Tom  Cannon  does  not  hold  a 
favourable  opinion  of  the  average  light-weight 
jockey. 

''  That  unfortunate  whip  loses  such  a  lot  of 
races  for  the  boys!"  he  says,  "and  more 
especially  on  young  horses.  No  one  knows 
what  a  number  of  two-year-olds  are  ruined  by 
the  whip  and  the  spurs  boys  are  always  using. 
It's  cruel,  and  besides  it  does  no  good  at  all. 
See  a  two-year-old  come  out  on  the  course,  and 
go  down  to  the  post,  listening  and  looking  about 
him.  He  ran  last  week,  and  he  was  hided,  and 
he  was  out  the  day  before  yesterday,  and  here  he 
is  once  more,  and  he  knows  that  he's  got  to  run 
and  to  be  hided  again.  What's  the  con- 
sequence ?  He's  too  nervous  to  put  out  his  full 
powers ;  and  then  w^hen  he  goes  back  to  his 
stable,  timorous  and  trembling,  he  won't  eat, 


260  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

and,  what's  worse,  lie  won't  drink  ;  and  so  tie 
goes  off  when  he's  never  had  a  fair  chance  of 
coming  on." 

'*  And  two  or  three  false  starts — not  to  say 
half  a  dozen  or  more — don't  quiet  his  nerves  ?  " 
I  suggest. 

*'  No,  indeed  they  don't,"  the  famous  jockey 
rejoins.  "  As  I  sit  on  my  light  saddle  I  can  feel 
their  hearts  against  my  legs,  beat !  beat !  beat ! 
bump  !  bump  !  bump !  Then  if  a  careless  or 
clumsy  boy  is  on  them  they  get  a  bad  start  after 
all,  and  out  comes  that  blessed  whip,  and  so 
they  go  whipping  and  bumping  all  over  the 
course.  Spurs,  too,  hard  at  it,  though  they 
don't  often  touch  the  horse  where  they  want  to ; 
and  so  they  never  give  the  poor  thing  fair  play. 
"Why,  I  make  bold  to  say  that  if  you  examine  a 
hundred  horses  that  I  have  ridden  in  races  you 
won't  find  a  sign  of  a  spur  on  three  of  them. 
You  see  the  whole  secret  of  the  matter  is  this — 
races  are  not  won  entirely  at  the  post.  You've 
got  to  think  of  winning  all  the  way  from  the 
start.  You  must  nurse  him  on  his  journey ;  and 
if  you  want  to  nurse  a  horse  to  get  him  home, 
don't  use  your  whip.  He  must  jump  into  his 
bridle,  of  course,  and  keep  there,  but  you  don't 
want  your  heels  rammed  back  into  his  flanks  and 
your  hands  up  with  a  short  rein  punishing  his 


A   DAY   WITH   TOM   CANNON.  261 

mouth,  all  the  way.  You  can't  reasonably  expect 
a  light,  weedy  two-year-old  to  carry  you  the 
whole  course  on  his  jaws." 

"  Then  you  think  there  was  something  in 
the  Chifneys'  loose  rein  theory  ?  "  I  ask. 

"  I  don't  quite  know  how  far  they  went,  and 
I  only  speak  from  experience,"  Cannon  replies. 
"  You  must  not  have  your  rein  too  loose,  so  that 
your  horse  has  no  guidance,  doesn't  know  what 
he's  to  do,  and  runs  all  over  the  course.  I 
don't  mean  that.  But  you  must  keep  your 
hands  well  back,  and  if  you  can't  hold  him  with 
a  gentle  pull,  try  a  gentler  still ;  it's  just  like 
trout-fishing,  you  want  to  be  as  delicate  as 
that." 

"  And  then  comes  the  finish  ?  "  I  suggest. 

''Yes;  and  that's  where  many  more  races 
are  thrown  away,"  is  the  reply.  "  If  you  hit  a 
horse  too  much  and  too  soon  he  will  simply 
come  back.  He  shrinks  at  the  whip — of  course 
he  does ;  he's  a  great  deal  too  sensible  not  to  do 
so.  A  flash  young  rider  flourishes  it  about  in 
the  air  and  frightens  his  horse  out  of  his  stride 
before  they  have  well  reached  the  distance.  If 
you  want  to  hit  your  horse,  the  whip  should  be 
drawn  quietly,  and  never  more  than  seven,  or  at 
the  outside  eight,  strides  from  home.  Then  the 
sudden  application  of  the  whip  causes  him  to 


262  EACECOURSE   AND   COVERT   SIDE. 

make  a  sudden  effort,  and  the  great  thing  is  to 
see  if  one  or  two  strokes  will  not  do  it  in  the 
last  three  strides.  A  horse  can  tell,  too,  when 
you  want  him  to  make  the  final  effort,  and  if 
he's  game  and  fit,  and  you  are  doing  your  best 
for  him,  he'll  go  with  you." 

Olding,  trotting  up  for  directions,  puts  an 
end  to  the  conversation,  and  most  of  the  young 
ones  are  sent  home,  while  three  or  four  are 
directed  to  canter  again ;  for  while  talking,  the 
master's  eyes  have  been  noting  attentively  all 
that  is  going  forward. 

*'  Lots  of  horses,"  Cannon  resumes,  watching 
a  handsome  filly  who  goes  along  gaily,  but,  on 
the  whole,  steadily  enough,  ''are  spoilt  by  being 
badly  bitted.  That  filly  is  an  example.  Nothing 
could  hold  her.  When  she  came  out  she  used 
to  run  all  over  the  downs  like  a  wolf  just  escaped 
from  a  menagerie.  She  had  some  dreadfully 
severe  bits  when  she  arrived,  but  I  tried  her  in 
a  plain  snaffle,  and  as  she  did  not  seem  to  like 
that,  I  had  a  bit  made  of  wood  with  some  india- 
rubber  rolled  round.  Now,  you  see,  she  goes  as 
steadily  as  possible,  barring  an  occasional  kick 
or  so  ;  "  and  as  he  speaks  up  goes  the  filly's  heels, 
as  if  to  show  she  has  not  forgotten  the  art  in 
question,  but  she  makes  no  attempt  to  get  away ; 
and  so  the  last  division  speed  along  up  the  hill, 


A   DAY   WITH   TOM   CANNON.  263 

wLile — for  some  of  Tom  Cannon's  children  are 
in  tlie  waggonette — we  drive  on  to  Danebury  to 
let  the  youngsters  see  grandpapa  Day ;  and, 
after  a  chat  with  the  genial  master  of  the 
famous  place,  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  "cemetery," 
where  are  the  graves  of  Bay  Middleton,  the  hero 
of  Two  Thousand  and  Derby  in  1836,  and 
Crucifix,  by  whom  the  Days  swear,  heroine  of 
Two  Thousand,  One  Thousand,  and  Oaks  in 
1840,  the  descendants  from  whose  immortal 
blood  thunder  so  often  first  past  the  winning- 
post.  In  the  boxes  and  stalls,  too,  are  some 
good-looking  young  ones,  including  a  few  of  the 
sort  which,  having  good  blood  and  appearance 
to  recommend  them,  in  favourite  training  phrase 
*'  may  be  anything." 

A  cordial  au  revoir  is  uttered  and  acknow- 
ledged at  Danebury,  and  by  the  time  we  have 
looked  over  some  score  of  horses  now  kept  at 
Tom  Cannon's  farm,  under  the  supervision  of 
Thomas,  who  steered  Lord  Lyon  to  victory  in 
the  Two  Thousand  of  1866,  and  have  furthermore 
sauntered  through  the  stalls  at  Houghton,  I  am 
ready  for  one  of  those  luncheons  which  kindly 
Hampshire  hospitality  considers  necessary,  and 
the  keen  air  of  Hampshire  downs  makes 
welcome;  while  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cannon,  far  from 
being  surprised  at  an  abnormal  appetite,  seem  to 


264  EACECOURSE   AND   COVERT    SIDE. 

think  that  a  feast  which  would  last  a  man  for 
a  couple  of  weeks  in  town  signifies  rather  a 
weak  and  jaded  digestion  than  otherwise. 

Meantime  the  sun  has  come  out  gloriously, 
and  doubts  about  the  possibility  of  jumping  this 
afternoon  are  entirely  removed  before  our  horses 
come  round  for  a  return  to  the  downs,  though 
when  we  are  in  the  saddle  we  soon  find  that 
the  ground  is  somewhat  treacherous ;  and  this  is 
made  very  disagreeably  plain  by  the  discovery 
that  one  of  the  foals  in  a  paddock  by  which  we 
pass  has  sHpped  up  and  severely  strained  himself. 
On  the  downs,  however,  the  sun  is  bright,  and 
except  for  a  slight  mist  which  prevents  one  from 
seeing  at  a  distance,  it  is  a  beautiful  January 
afternoon.  The  young  ones  are  soon  despatched 
on  their  afternoon's  work,  and  then  the  trainer 
turns  his  attention  to  the  jumpers,  several  of 
which  are  to  go  over  the  hurdles  on  the  steeple- 
chase course  here  laid  out. 

Preliminary  lessons  are  taken  in  the  grove, 
close  to  Danebury,  a  plantation  due  to  the 
forethought  of  old  Alfred  Sadler,  who  used  to  train 
here  some  half-century  ago  (in  the  annals  of  the 
Turf  these  grounds  are  second  to  no  training 
ground  in  England),  and  who  planted  these 
trees,  so  that  on  the  broad  walks  of  the  cover 
horses  might  be  sheltered  whichever  way  the 


A   DAY   WITH    TOM    CANNON.  265 

wind  came.  Here  are  the  two  first  fences  over 
which  the  tiro  is  conducted.  A  very  low  gorsed 
hurdle,  with  the  trunk  of  a  very  small  tree 
placed  before  it  on  the  ground,  so  as  to  accustom 
the  inexperienced  jumper  to  the  rail  before  his 
fences,  which  he  will  meet  at  later  periods  of  his 
career ;  and  a  little  beyond  a  second  fence,  just 
a  bit  higher,  and  with  a  slightly  larger  tree 
before  it ;  while  on  the  downs  are  a  few  low 
fences  over  which  the  pupils  are  inducted  before 
being  despatched  on  the  regular  routine  of  their 
respective  classes,  hurdle  or  steeplechase.  These 
jumps  are  made  side  by  side,  that  is  to  say, 
half  the  fence  is  hurdle,  and  the  other  half 
joining  on  to  it  is  the  ordinary  hedge  and  rail, 
and  in  some  cases  ditch  as  well. 

"  They  learn  to  jump  here,  and  not  to  knock 
the  hurdles  down  and  run  through  them," 
Cannon  remarks.  "  You  see,  the  hurdles  are  all 
spliced  together  and  won't  give.  They  have  to 
be  cleared ;  "  and  by  way  of  illustrating  the  fact 
he  canters  gently  up  and  pops  lightly  over  one 
of  them,  while  I  admire,  as  well  I  may,  the 
wonderfully  fine  hands  which  guide  the  horse 
with  such  consummate  ease. 

That  Tom  Cannon's  seat  in  the  saddle  is 
altogether  unrivalled  for  grace,  and  what  may 
be  called  unity  with  his  horse,  is  on  all  sides 


266  EACECOUESE   AND   COVEET   SIDE. 

cordially  admitted ;  but  still  more  extraordinary 
are  those  marvellous  hands,  which,  resting 
behind  the  pummel  of  the  saddle,  and  holding 
the  reins  with  the  gentlest  possible  touch  on  his 
horse's  mouth,  give  the  animal's  head  and  neck 
the  fullest  hberty  and  yet  keep  it  under  the  most 
complete  control.  How  is  the  secret  between 
man  and  horse  communicated  and  so  thoroughly 
understood  ?  I  have  an  uncomfortable  feeling 
that  if  I  got  on  that  horse  and  tried  to  do 
the  same  thing  he  would  pull  at  me,  and  my 
hands  half  the  time  would  be  upon  his  neck 
instead  of  well  behind  his  withers,  at  the  point 
which  the  veterinary  surgeons,  I  believe,  call 
the  trapezius  dorsalis.  When  the  other  horses 
came  cantering  round,  if  I  were  up  in  that 
saddle  I  have  the  best  reason  for  supposing  that 
my  beast  would  want  to  join  in,  and  would 
vigorously  dispute  the  privilege  of  doing  so ; 
but  though  Cannon's  horse  is  willing  enough,  to 
say  the  least  of  it,  to  go  with  the  rest  when  he 
has  the  faintest  hint  that  he  may  do  so,  that 
loose  rein  is  an  invincible  restraint,  and  the 
animal  obeys  it  with  the  most  perfect  com- 
placence. What,  I  repeat,  is  the  secret,  and 
how  is  it  acquired  ? 

Meantime  a  detachment  of  the  young  ones 
have  swept  past  us,  and  are  now  nearing  the 


A   DAY  WITH   TOM   CANNON.  267 

brow  of  the  hill,  and  some  cloth  and  leather 
boots  have  been  brought  up  for  the  horses  that 
are  to  jump.  These  are  new  ones,  and  with  the 
knowledge  of  a  master  saddler  the  trainer 
examines  them.  Nothing,  it  will  be  seen,  is 
chanced  at  Houghton ;  but,  on  the  contrary, 
each  detail,  however  comparatively  minute,  is 
carefully  regarded.     Then  the  word  is  given. 

''  Take  off  the  clothes  of  Antient  Pistol  and 
the  other  three  jumpers,  and  let  them  go  round 
over  the  four  hurdles  twice.  Start  over  there 
by  the  trees,  come  on  at  a  good  canter — not  too 
fast,  but  keep  them  well  up  into  their  bridles — 
pull  up  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  trot  down,  and 
start  again  in  the  same  place  as  before." 

The  clothes  are  removed,  the  boots  carefully 
fitted  on,  lest  a  cut  or  overreach  should  do 
temporary  mischief,  and  the  quartette  trot  off 
into  the  haze ;  while  we  turn  our  horses'  heads 
and  take  up  our  station  by  the  third  hurdle,  at 
the  foot  of  the  gentle  ascent. 

*'  Where  are  they  ?  I  can't  see  them.  Oh, 
yes ;  there  they  come,  just  by  the  first  hurdle. 
The  bay  mare  pitches  a  bit  as  she  lands,"  I 
observe,  as  they  cross  the  second  flight. 

"  Yes,  she  has  rather  loaded  shoulders,  you 
see.  It's  a  pity.  But  look  how  splendidly  the 
black  jumps !     If  he  could  gallop  as  well,  he'd 


268  EACECOUESE    AND    COYEET    SIDE. 

do,"  Cannon  says;  and  at  the  moment  they 
approach  and  pass  us,  and,  following  on,  we 
reach  them  as  they  are  pulling  up. 

*'  Once  more  round,  and  not  too  fast,"  is  the 
order ;  and  off  they  trot,  break  into  a  canter, 
then  a  hand  gallop,  and  so  repeat  the  distance. 

''And  now  I  think  we'll  send  that  mare  over 
a  oouple  of  the  steeplechase  jumps,  if  she'll  go," 
Cannon  says.  ''  Let's  see ;  Hugho  shall  give 
her  a  lead.  Look  here,  just  go  down  with  her 
and  come  away  over  those  two  jumps  five  or  six 
lengths  in  advance — just  once,  and  then  pull 
up." 

"  She'll  do  it,  won't  she  ?  "  I  ask.  ''  She 
came  at  the  hurdles  straight  enough." 

"Yes;  hut  this  is  different.  She  can  see 
through  them,  and  here's  a  great  black  thing, 
and  she  doesn't  know  what's  on  the  other  side. 
I  shan't  be  surprised  if  she  refuses ;  but  if  she 
does  jump  she'll  have  to  clear  it  or  come  a 
cropper,  for  she  can't  brush  through  :  it  won't 
give.  However,  she's  got  to  learn  some  time  or 
other,  and  she  may  as  well  begin.  There  they 
come." 

"And  she  means  having  it,  too,"  I  exclaim, 
as  the  chestnut  horse  came  on  and  cleared  it 
with  a  vigorous  rush,  the  mare  following  on  in 
his  wake. 


A   DAY   WITH    TOM   CANNON.  269 

Nearing  the  fence,  she  pricked  her  ears, 
and  seemed,  as  it  were,  to  measure  the  distance 
with  her  eye ;  then,  gathering  herself  together, 
she  rose  at  the  leap,  cleared  it  in  perfect  style, 
and  was  away  again  on  the  other  side  after  her 
chestnut  leader  without  a  perceptible  pause. 

"  Capital !  I  hardly  thought  she'd  have 
done  it  so  neatly.  There  she  goes  again,  too," 
Cannon  says,  as  the  pair  approach  and  fly  over 
the  second  obstacle.  ''  Yes,  that's  first-rate.  I 
like  the  way  she  looked  at  it  and  took  in  what 
she  had  to  do.  Yes,  I'm  in  a  better  temper  now 
after  that!"  at  which  Olding,  who  has  just 
ridden  up,  smiles ;  for  although  he  knows  that 
his  kindly  master's  wrath  is  only  a  passing 
cloud,  with  no  sort  of  mischief  in  it,  there  is  a 
pleasure  in  finding  that  things  are  smooth. 

It  is  getting  chilly  on  the  downs,  and  there 
is  a  touch  of  frost  in  the  air  as  we  turn  our 
horses'  heads  towards  home ;  and  there  can  be 
no  sort  of  doubt  that  the  keen  air  gives  one  an 
appetite,  which  agreeably  destroys  recollections 
of  the  fact  that  we  lunched  a  comparatively 
short  time  ago.  A  trot  home  circulates  the 
blood,  and,  though  we  are  by  no  means  starved 
with  hunger,  as  Mrs.  Cannon  in  her  thoughtful 
hospitality  fears  must  be  the  case,  the  good 
things  my  hostess  has  provided  receive  ample 


270  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET   SIDE. 

justice,  as  do  the  beaded  contents  of  the  sturdy 
magnum  of  a  remarkably  sound  vintage. 

The  only  disagreeable  experience  I  had  at 
Houghton  was  the  necessity  of  leaving  it,  and, 
as  I  patted  the  dogs  and  shook  hands  with  my 
cordial  host  and  hostess,  before  stepping  into 
the  waggonette  which  was  to  take  me  to  an 
unpleasantly  early  train,  it  was  with  more  than 
ordinary  sincerity  that  I  answered,  ''  Indeed, 
I  shall  be  more  than  glad,"  to  their  hearty 
invitation  to  come  back  again  soon. 


SPORT  AND  SPORTSMEN  ON  THE 
FRENCH  COAST. 

So  many  fallacies  have  been  exploded  of  late 
years  that  any  one  who  utters  what  was  once  a 
well-understood  truth  has  at  first  sight  the 
appearance  of  being  behind  the  age.  The  man 
who  hints  that  Jezebel  had  her  weak  points,  or 
that  Nero  was  not  a  model  of  what  a  really 
admirable  monarch  should  be,  seems  ignorant  of 
the  latest  contributions  to  the  history  of  those 
celebrities;  and  to  chaff  a  Frenchman  for  his 
slight  and  usually  mistaken  ideas  of  sport  is  very 
far  indeed  from  being  a  novelty.  Yet  what  is  a 
conscientious  historian  to  do  ?  To  strike  out  a 
new  line  and  endeavour  to  prove  that  M.  de 
Grandecraavatte  goes  to  work  in  the  right  way 
would  give  a  writer  original  ground  to  traverse, 
but  in  his  journey  he  would  be  entirely  un- 
supported by  facts.  There  are  exceptions,  of 
course,  which  all  of  us  could  name.  Some 
Frenchmen  are  as  well  known  in  St.  James's- 


272  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

Street,  at  Hurlingliam,  in  Scotland,  at  New- 
market, Ascot,  Sandown,  Cowes,  in  Leicester- 
shire, and  other  familiar  resorts,  as  some 
Englishmen  are  in  Paris  and  round  about  it ;  but 
these  are  the  few,  and  from  a  careful  study  of 
sport  and  sportsmen  on  the  French  coast  during 
a  race  week,  I  can  assert  with  perfect  con- 
fidence that  the  ordinary  Frenchman,  in  spite  of 
all  the  introduction  of  various  sports  during  the 
last  few  years,  knows  scarcely  more  about  racing 
than  middle-class  Frenchmen  —  and  French- 
women especially — know  of  true  politeness  and 
courteous  behaviour. 

The  race  week  means  more  than  racing. 
Though  there  are  only  three  days  of  racing 
proper,  the  meeting  extends  from  Friday  to 
Tuesday,  the  grand  day  being  Sunday ;  and  the 
intermediate  days  are  filled  up  with  pigeon 
shooting,  polo,  various  gaieties  of  a  theatrical, 
musical,  and  social  nature  at  the  Casino,  wild 
gambhng  with  the  race  games,  and  the  regatta 
together  with  the  usual  amusements  of  a  French 
watering-place.  So  far  as  the  slaughter  of 
hapless  pigeons  goes,  indeed,  the  "sports  "  began 
on  Wednesday,  excitement  having  been  pre- 
viously worked  up  by  the  erection  on  the  Plage, 
the  green  space  between  the  road  and  the  sea,  of 
stands,  and  an  enclosed  circle  within  which  the 


SPORT    AND    SPORTSMEN    ON    THE    FRENCH    COAST.     273 

birds  must  die  if  they  are  to  be  counted  as  dead ; 
together  with  a  further  boundary  to  keep  the 
populace  some  few  hundreds  of  yards  from  the 
shooters,  making  liberal,  but  not  always  un- 
necessary, allowance  for  little  divergences  in 
aim.  There  are  here,  let  it  be  granted,  some 
few  men  who  can  knock  pigeons  down,  and  a 
very  few  who  can  actually  kill  them,  and  who 
shine  at  the  least  admirable  of  all  British  sports  ; 
but  there  is  here,  also,  M.  Petitsinge,  the  quasi- 
sporting  little  Frenchman,  an  excellent  specimen 
of  a  type  which  has  never  yet  been  by  any 
means  exhaustively  treated. 

M.  Petitsinge' s  ambition  is  to  be  considered 
un  vrai  sportmaiis,  and  he,  with  others  who  are 
like  unto  him,  are  now  in  their  element.  He 
has  plenty  of  money,  which  his  father  made  out 
of  a  contract  for  brown-paper-soled  boots  for  the 
army,  and  the  heir  is  making  it  fly.  Petitsinge 
has  a  share  in  several  crocks  that  are  running  at 
the  different  meetings  along  the  Normandy 
coast,  and  is  the  owner  of  three  polo  ponies  that 
may  be  seen  at  exercise  on  the  road  to  Arques 
or  along  the  Plage.  He  does  not  ride  them 
himself,  and  has  not  the  faintest  intention  of 
doing  anything  so  stupendously  insane  as  play- 
ing polo ;  but  the  presence  of  the  little  animals 
affords   him   an   excuse   for   walking  about  the 

18 


274  EACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

Casino  in  spurs,  with  a  cutting  whip  in  his 
hand,  and  a  circular  patch  of  washleather  let 
into  the  knees  of  his  trousers.  It  is  well  known 
that  an  English  sportmans  always  wears  spurs  at 
his  cercle,  and  Petitsinge  will  not  be  outdone  in 
fashion  by  any  milor. 

So  he  swaggers  about,  to  the  intense  admira- 
tion of  the  majority  of  his  countrywomen,  for 
Fetitsinge  does  not  hide  his  hght  under  a 
bushel,  and  Hkes  to  be  prominent  in  every 
assembly ;  so  that  if  it  should  please  him  to  put 
down  a  few  francs  at  the  table  where  the  petits 
chevaux  are  running  their  endless  circles,  he  will 
elbow  his  way  to  the  front,  pushing  English- 
women roughly  aside  with  as  much  ease  and 
carelessness  as  his  own  countrywomen  them- 
selves display  when  they  are  too  much  in  the 
background,  and  strangers  have  a  better  view. 

At  the  Tir  aux  Pigeons  Petitsinge  is  mar- 
vellous to  behold.  A  huge  tie  spreads  over  his 
bosom,  and  he  has  changed  the  riding  trousers 
for  others  cut  rather  tight  at  the  knees  and  wide 
over  the  boots.  He  is  in  the  sweepstakes,  and 
anxiously  awaits  his  turn  as  the  wretched  birds 
flutter  a  few  feet  above  the  trap,  receive  the 
two  barrels,  either  fly  away  or  fall  struggling 
to  the  ground  to  be  killed  and  retrieved  by  a 
dog,  who  looks  a  great  deal  too  good  for  his 


SPOET    AND    SPORTSMEN    ON    THE    FRENCH    COAST.      275 

work.  What  has  happened  to  these  birds  I  do 
not  know,  but  that  they  are  a  miserable  and 
feeble  race,  if  they  have  not  been  manipulated 
for  the  sake  of  giving  the  noble  sportsmen  a 
better  chance,  is  unmistakable. 

Petitsinge's  turn  is  coming.     Before  him  an 
Englishman  steps  out  on  to  the  planked  path. 
He    stands   upright ;    the    string   is   pulled,   the 
trap  flies  open,  the  bird  rises  a  few  feet  and  falls 
within  two  yards  of  his  late  prison.     Now  comes 
Petitsinge.     Observe  his  proceedings.    He  holds 
his   gun   in   both   hands   and  creeps  cautiously 
from  the  tent,  as  though  he  were  stalking  wild 
animals.     He  stretches  his  little  legs  apart,  one 
behind  the  other ;    ducks  three  or   four  times, 
as  if  about  to  jump  in  the  air ;  sways  his  body 
backwards  and  forwards ;   raises  his  gun  to  his 
shoulder    and    lowers    it    again ;    tries    a   new 
position,  and  goes  through  a  new  set  of  tricks. 
Being   able   to   do   this   sort  of  thing  with  an 
audience  looking  on  is  to  Petitsinge  the  great 
charm    of  the   Tir  aux  Pigeons ;    and  here  we 
arrive   at   the  true   reason  why  Frenchmen  so 
rarely  excel  in  any  sport :  they  will  not  think 
about  what  they  are  doing  so  much  as  about 
how  they  look  while  they  do  it.     The  trap  falls 
to   pieces,    another   pigeon   is   released.      Bang 
goes  the  first  barrel,  and  bang  goes  the  second, 


276  RACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

the  bewildered  bird  flies  slowly  right  over  the 
shooter's  head,  over  the  tent,  turning  down  the 
Plage  past  the  hotel,  from  the  window  of  which 
I  am  looking  on,  and  disappears  into  the  country 
beyond.  Petitsinge,  however,  has  made  a  noise 
and  a  lot  of  smoke,  and  is  not  unhappy  as  he 
retires  to  explain  at  length  to  all  who  will  listen 
how  it  happened  that  he  came  to  miss. 

If  only  to  escape  from  the  constant  banging 
of  guns  the  first  day  of  the  races  is  welcome, 
but  for  other  reasons  the  novelty  of  a  French 
racecourse  has  attractions.  Racing  in  France 
is  no  light  matter,  to  be  carried  out  simply  by 
the  aid  of  the  stewards  and  a  few  functionaries. 
The  municipality,  the  uiaire,  the  officers  of  the 
various  regiments,  the  gendarmerie,  all  come 
into  play,  and  for  a  few  sous  the  inquirer  can 
purchase  a  paper  headed  "  Police  des  Courses 
de  Chevaux,"  including  all  that  "  Le  Maire  le 
Vert  "  has  to  say  on  the  subject.  The  hippo- 
drome, as  the  course  is  called,  is  at  a  village 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  distant  from  the 
favourite  Normandy  seaport  of  which  I  am 
writing.  Trains  stop  at  the  very  entrance,  from 
which  the  masts  of  vessels  in  the  port  are 
picturesquely  visible,  and  after  passing  the  line 
of  sentries,  without  which  no  function  in  France 
can  be  carried   out,  you   find   yourself  on   the 


SPORT    AND    SPORTSMEN    ON    THE    FRENCH    COAST.     277 

pretty  little  course.  The  principal  stand  or 
"  tribune  "  is  a  canvas-roofed  building,  with  a 
sort  of  lawn  in  front,  and  some  distance  behind 
it  the  ring  is  formed  by  a  number  of  bookmakers, 
who  are  already  beginning  to  be  musical.  At 
the  farther  corner  of  the  enclosed  space  horses 
are  being  led  about.  The  two  courses,  flat  and 
steeplechase,  run  side  by  side  before  the  stand, 
and  opposite  to  it  is  the  water  jump,  just  three 
times  as  wide  as  my  umbrella,  with  the  hurdle 
which  does  duty  for  a  fence  on  the  ground  close 
by.  A  big  black  retriever  is  jumping  about  in 
the  puddle,  and  amusing  the  people  in  the  few 
carriages  drawn  up  by  the  posts  opposite  the 
stand.  There  is  no  crowd.  The  stands  are 
tolerably  tenanted,  and  there  is  a  sprinkling  of 
people  along  the  rails,  but  no  hustling  and 
pushing,  and  the  gendarmes  in  their  cocked  hats 
march  about  with  nothing  to  do  except  look 
fierce  and  military. 

The  Tribune  du  Jury — anglice  the  judges' 
box — is  a  small  white  and  red  striped  structure, 
and  four  gentlemen  ascend  to  the  top  of  it.  A 
cracked  bell — M.  le  Maire  will  have  to  see  to  it 
before  next  year — rings  out  as  well  as  it  can. 
Although  as  regards  power  of  lung  the  French 
bookmakers  are  to  their  Enghsh  brethren  as 
water  is  to  British  brandy,  sounds  come  from 


278  EACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

the  ring.  "  Qui  veut  un  cheval  ?  "  "  Qui  veut 
Baretta  ?  "  "  Deux  centre  Baretta  ?  "  "  Qui 
veut  Figurine  ?  "  ''  Gagnant  ou  place  !  " 
"  Cinq  centre  Figurine !  "  is  heard  in  different 
voices,  an  occasional  appeal  to  "Messieurs"  to 
come  and  take  the  odds,  giving  a  specially 
French  flavour  to  the  discourse.  Fancy  an 
English  bookmaker  saying,  "  Five  to  four 
against  Tristan,  gentlemen,"  "  Gentlemen,  who 
will  back  Goldfield  ? "  Middle-class  French 
people  can  be  polite  when  they  want  anything, 
at  least  the  men  can.  I  do  not  think  any 
consideration  could  make  a  middle-class  French- 
woman behave  decently  unless  she  had  some- 
thing to  gain  by  it.  The  upper  and  lower 
classes  in  France  are  courteous  and  what  we 
call  well-bred ;  the  middle-class  hardly  ever. 

Meantime  the  word  has  been  given  to  a 
company  of  red-legged  soldiers,  who  form  and 
march  in  opposite  directions,  to  clear  the  course 
— a  very  simple  duty,  for  the  necessity  has 
already  been  intimated  to  the  public  by  a  device 
of  M.  le  Maire,  or  of  some  former  maire^  whose 
example  M.  le  Vert  copies.  A  tricolour  flag  has 
been  run  up  the  mast  near  the  Tribune  du  Jury, 
and  good  citizens,  who  know  what  is  expected 
of  them,  have  read  that  when  this  sign  is  given 
la   piste    doit    etre    evacuee.     Here    come    the 


SPOET    AND    SPORTSMEN    ON    THE    FRENCH    COAST.      279 

horses  into  the  hippodrome,  a  second  peal  of 
the  cracked  bell  announcing  the  event.  They 
canter  and  go  down  to  the  starting-place  a  little 
beyond  the  stand,  the  red  flag  falls,  the  red 
jacket  jumps  off  with  the  lead,  retains  it  the 
first  time  round,  is  never  headed,  and  com6s 
in  an  easy  winner.  No.  7  goes  up  after  an 
interval. 

The  flag  descends  the  post,  and  this  we  know 
indiquera  que  la  public  pourra  ci7xuler  lihrement 
jusqu'a  Vanno7ice  d^une  nouvelle  course.  An 
outsider  wins  the  Prix  du  Cercle  du  Casino, 
where  some  of  us  go  and  play  ecarte  when  the 
'petits  chevaux  and  the  regattes  seem  slow ;  and 
then  comes  the  great  event  of  the  day,  the 
Grand  Criterium  International  for  two-year-olds. 
They  do  not  hurry  themselves  to  put  up  the 
numbers,  these  French  officials,  and  there  is 
plenty  of  time  to  look  about,  to  note  the  sheaves 
in  the  cornfields  away  beyond  the  f^^  S.ar  side  of 
the  course,  the  toilettes  of  the  ladies,  who  are 
now  some  of  them  sitting  about  the  lawn 
gorgeously  arrayed  in  colours — red  predomi- 
nating. Here,  too,  are  the  horses,  41  coloured 
on  the  card,  including  an  English  detachment. 
The  Count  de  Lagrange  has  four  in,  and 
Jennings  one,  so  here  is  a  pretty  puzzle  to  solve. 
Jockeys  with  unfamiliar  colours   beneath   their 


280  KACECOUESE    AND    COVERT     SIDE. 

overcoats  begin  to  appear,  and  among  quaint 
sights  is  a  priest  with  long  black  gown  and 
clerical  hat,  and — a  pair  of  race  glasses  hung 
across  his  shoulders.  There  is  a  sort  of  courage 
about  the  act  that  looks  well. 

''  If  you  only  wear  trousers  to  cover  your 
inclinations,  sir,  you  might  as  well  ride  com- 
fortably in  boots  and  breeches,"  a  Church 
dignitary  with  a  sympathy  for  sport  once  told 
his  curate,  who,  without  actually  making  a 
practice  of  hunting,  generally  knew  where  the 
hounds  were,  and  rode  in  that  direction.  This 
Trench  priest  finds  no  harm  in  going  to  the 
races  and  wants  to  see  them  well  when  he  is 
there,  though  the  combination  is  doubtless 
strange. 

There  are  the  numbers — eighteen  starters, 
and  of  the  English  division  only  one,  the  Duke 
of  St.  Albans'  pouliche.  That  "  difficult " 
sportsman,  the  Count  de  Lagrange,  starts  three 
out  of  the  four  he  has  entered,  but  does  not 
provide  the  first  favourite,  the  English  animal 
being  elevated  to  that  position,  though  most  of  the 
papers  "  go  "  for  one  of  the  Count's.  Petitsinge 
has  had  a  tip,  and  is  in  mysterious  conversation 
with  an  energetic  compatriot  about  Vliandicapj 
as  he  calls  all  races  without  distinction,  as  to 
the  method  by  which  the  weights  are  adjusted  ; 


SPORT    AND    SPORTSMEN    ON    THE    FRENCH    COAST.      281 

and  one  of  the  French  sporting  papers — there 
are  many,  Le  Sport,  Le  Sportsman,  Le  Jocliey, 
Le  Derby,  and  others — has  a  long  account  of  the 
importance  of  this  Grand  Criterium,  and  can 
only  liken  it  to  the  famous  Epsom  race  which 
christens  one  of  the  journals  just  mentioned  ; 
which,  seeing  that  it  is  for  two-year-olds,  is  not 
a  very  good  shot.  Nothing  could  be  more 
amusing  to  a  racing  man  than  to  hear  the 
remarkable  "explanations"  which  some  of  the 
gallant  Frenchmen  on  the  stand  give  the  ladies 
who  are  with  them  as  to  the  why  and  wherefore 
of  the  business  which  precedes  a  race,  the 
weighing,  etc.,  and  I  am  sure  that  twenty-nine 
Frenchmen  out  of  thirty  who  go  to  races  know 
more  about  Chaldean  manuscripts  than  about 
the  elementary  principles  of  handicapping. 

Petitsinge,  however,  as  I  learn  later  on  when 
preparations  for  a  Course  de  Haies  a  Beclaimer 
—  a  Selling  Hurdle  Race  —  are  in  progress, 
actually  has  views,  which,  briefly  expressed,  are 
to  the  effect  that  the  present  system  of  weighting 
horses  is  absurd,  because  they  carry  light 
weights  to  go  a  thousand  metres,  little  more 
than  half  a  mile,  and  heavy  weights  to  go  three 
or  four  miles  in  a  steeplechase,  where  there  are 
des  obstacles. 

One  good  thing  about  this  racecourse  is  that 


282  EACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

the  inequalities  in  the  ground  afford  capital 
views  from  various  parts,  and  as  some  of  us 
stroll  down  to  the  post  to  take  stock  of  the 
two-year-olds,  we  see  what  is  to  most  of  us  a 
novel  sight.  ''  Qui  vent  un  cheval  ?  Qui  veut 
Musette  II.  f  Qui  veut  Petal  f  Sept  contre 
Louis  d'Or  !  Cinq  contre  Petal  I  Que  veut  un 
cheval'^  Gagnant  ou  place  I  "  These  are  offers 
made  in  a  shrill  voice,  and  coming  nearer  we 
see  that  the  "bookmaker"  is  a  respectably- 
dressed  old  lady,  with  black  bonnet  and  gown, 
spectacles,  and  a  professional  satchel  by  her 
side.  There  she  is,  this  remarkable  old  dame, 
laying  the  odds  all  round  in  the  most  business- 
like manner ;  and  a  little  beyond  is  a  younger 
woman,  who  may  be  her  daughter,  engaged  in 
the  same  occupation.  To  me  this  is  certainly  a 
novel  experience,  and  I  lay  out  a  napoleon  on 
the  English  filly  with  a  very  unusual  feeling  of 
half-hoping  I  may  not  win  the  old  lady's  money 
— as  happens  in  the  end,  for  the  boy  on  Petal 
finishes  in  the  middle  of  the  ruck,  and  one  of 
the  Count  de  Lagrange's  lands  the  comfortable 
odds  of  12  to  1. 

After  this  the  rain  came  down  as  if  it  had 
not  rained  before  this  year,  and  gay  toilettes 
suffered,  for  the  canvas  roofs  of  the  stands,  fine 
weather  structures,  were  altogether  insufficient 


SPOBT    AND    SPORTSMEN    ON    THE    FEENCH    COAST.     283 

to  keep  out  the  storm.  M.  Delamarre's  Keine 
Claude,  the  favourite,  galloped  or  swam  in  first 
for  the  next  race,  a  handicap,  and  as  the  odd- 
looking  little  hurdles,  made  of  a  sort  of  broom 
apparently,  were  being  put  up  the  exodus  began. 
Of  the  second  day's  racing  I  cannot  speak  from 
experience,  never  having  been  able  to  overcome 
a  prejudice  against  racing  on  Sunday,  but  I 
hear  that  the  course,  which  lies  low,  was  a 
regular  quagmire  in  parts,  and  that  an  animal 
on  which  such  of  the  English  division  as  were 
there  had  wildly  plunged,  slipped  up,  and  fell  as 
he  was  winriing  in  good  style ;  also  that  a 
French  mare,  though  she  seemed  over-weighted 
in  the  heavy  going,  won  the  steeplechase  with 
considerable  ease  from  her  three  opponents, 
thereby  diverting  sundry  napoleons  into  the 
pockets  of  the  bookmakers  and,  I  hope,  of  the 
plucky  old  woman  who  laid  the  odds.  I  saw 
Petitsinge  coming  back  in  a  clattering  caUche 
with  two  big  white  horses,  and  from  the  little 
man's  appearance  I  judged  that  he  had  been 
making  an  ass  of  himself.  Perhaps  the 
splendours  of  the  fireworks  revived  him  some- 
what, for  a  very  gorgeous  display  was  given  in  the 
evening,  and  was  applauded,  the  local  Gazette 
relates,  by  "  tout  ce  que  le  high  life  qui  se  trouve 
ici  a  de  plus  distingue'  et  de  jylus  elegaiit.'' 


BEHIND   THE   SCENES   AT   THE 
CIRCUS. 

"Yes,  sir,  it  is  a  big  show,"  says  Mr.  Tanring, 
the  proprietor,  in  answer  to  what  is  by  no  means 
a  comphment  but  a  simple  statement  of  fact ; 
"  and  you  are  right  about  the  horses,  as  you  will 
see  if  you  care  to  look  down  the  stables  with  me. 
Broken-down  racers  that  have  worn  themselves 
out  in  drawing  a  cab  won't  do  for  my  circus. 
They're  all  very  well  for  the  sawdust  business, 
but  they  don't  suit  here." 

We  turn  aside  from  the  open  space  in  the 
centre  of  the  hall,  where  a  gentleman  is  lying 
on  his  back  kicking  a  ball  about  in  the  air,  a 
performance  which  looks  odd  with  trousers  on 
the  acrobatic  legs ;  and  a  mysterious  knot  of 
other  gentlemen,  who  are  clowns  in  public  hfe, 
are  arranging  some  business  which  occasionally 
necessitates  the  striking  of  remarkable  attitudes. 

**  There's  a  horse  !  "  Mr.  Tanring  says  proudly, 
as  we  pass  to  the  long  rows  of  stabling.  ^'  That's 
Mameluke.     I  bought  him  out  of  the  Emperor 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES    AT    THE    CIRCUS.  285 

of  Germany's  stables.  He  had  been  carrying 
one  of  the  young  princes,  but  he  got  thrown  one 
day,  and  I  had  the  chance  of  buying  him.  That 
one  belonged  to  the  Emperor  of  Eussia — Sultan 
they  call  him ;  and  the  next — that  chestnut — ■ 
was  given  to  me  by  King  Victor  Emmanuel.  He 
gave  me  a  horse,  an  elephant,  and  a  lion  the  same 
day,  and  told  me  to  call  the  horse  Eomo  ;  it  was 
the  day  he  made  his  state  entry  into  Eome. 
Ah  !  he  was  a  king  !  "  says  my  guide,  reflectively. 
"  He  gave  me  this  watch,  too,"  and  he  shows  a 
heavy  gold  watch  with  the  royal  cypher  in  big 
diamonds  on  the  back,  and  on  the  face  a  wonder- 
ful collection  of  guides  to  the  day  of  the  month, 
of  the  week,  of  the  year,  and  other  conveniences, 
including  a  barometer. 

"  Does  it  tell  you  correctly  ?  "  I  ask. 

"Wonderfully  true,"  Mr.  Tanring  answ^ers. 
"  With  that  and  the  lions  and  elephants  I  feel 
certain  about  the  weather.  Many  a  time  they've 
saved  my  tents  from  being  blown  down." 

"  It  never  occurred  to  me  to  regard  lions  and 
elephants  in  the  light  of  barometers,"  I  humbly 
remark,  fully  aware  that  there  are  more  things 
in  heaven  and  earth  than  are  dreamt  of  in  my 
philosophy.  "  How  can  you  tell  by  them  what 
the  weather's  going  to  be  ?  " 

"  Surest    sign    in    the    world,"    he    repUes. 


28G  RACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

"  They  never  make  mistakes.  When  a  storm 
or  a  spell  of  bad  weather  is  coming  the  lions 
holloa  and  the  elephants  all  huddle  together. 
Yes,  and  I  can  tell,  too,  pretty  well  whether  it's 
settled  bad  weather  or  just  a  passing  storm.  If 
the  lions  holloa  all  together  it's  going  to  be 
short.  Sometimes  they  sit  round  in  a  circle 
with  their  tails  all  together,  and  set  to  making 
a  desperate  noise,  and  that  means  a  short  spell ; 
but  at  other  times  one  begins,  and  then  another, 
or  perhaps  two  of  them  sit  down  together  and 
roar  against  each  other,  and  then  one,  and  then 
another  two — that  means  that  a  rough  time's 
coming,  and  won't  soon  pass  over." 

Having  digested  this  singular  piece  of  in- 
formation, we  pass  to  the  next  stall. 

"  Now,  there's  a  curious  horse,"  the  pro- 
prietor continues.  "  Washington  his  name  is, 
a  thoroughbred  Claybank- Virginia.  He's  marked 
just  exactly  the  same  as  a  terrier  is.  Where  the 
terrier's  dark — look  at  his  legs  below  the  knee, 
and  his  muzzle — he's  marked  too.  Perfect 
shaped  horse,  too,  isn't  he  ?  That  white's  Riche- 
lieu ;  look  at  his  Httle  head — small  like  a  pea- 
cock's !  He's  taken  prizes  in  almost  all  the 
cities  I've  been  too,  and  he's  one  of  the  best 
artists  I  have  in  the  place." 

Mr.  Tanring,  in  fact,  regards  liis  horses  as 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES    AT    THE    CIRCUS.  287 

friends  and  fellow-artists.     They  know  him,  and 
he  knows  them. 

"  Come  over,  old  man  !  "  he  says  to  another. 
"  Bonfanti,  that  is.  There's  a  head  and  neck  ; 
he  looks  over  at  you  like  a  goose  !  There's 
Mars !  "  and  Mars  shows  an  eager  desire  to  have 
some  notice  taken  of  him,  gazing  regretfully 
after  his  master  as  he  passes  by. 

''  There's  Mrs.  Tanring's  horse,  Jupiter. 
Splendid  jumper !  See  those  quarters,  and 
shoulders  the  same.  Here,  boy,  strip  him. 
There's  power!  That's  nothing,"  he  says,  see- 
ing that  my  attention  is  attracted  to  a  mark 
on  his  shoulder.  "  Some  of  them  got  loose  one 
night  and  bit  him,  but  it's  well  now.  He's  a 
real  nice  fellow  !  "  adds  his  master  affectionately, 
as  we  leave  the  gallant  horse. 

"  Now,  here's  a  strange  thing,"  Mr.  Tanring 
goes  on,  as  we  come  to  a  long  row  of  spotted 
horses.  "  There  are  twenty- three  of  them — 
come  from  Western  Bohemia.  They're  all 
spotted,  and  the  peculiarity  about  them  is  that 
at  the  bottom  of  the  mountain  the  spots  are 
quite  small — see,  like  that !  As  you  get  higher 
up  the  mountain  the  spots  come  bigger,  and  up 
at  the  top  they  are  marked  with  patches  of  dark 
colour.  These  skewbalds  and  piebalds  come 
from  Schleswig-Holstein.     Those  creams  I  got 


288  RACECOUKSE    AND    COYEET    SIDE. 

from  the  Emperor  Francis  Joseph.  Hanoverians 
they  are.    Soft  things.    No  use,  except  for  toys." 

"  Do  you  think  there  is  anything  in  the 
colour  of  a  horse  ?  "  I  asked.  "  They  say  a  good 
horse  can't  be  a  bad  colour  ?  " 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  Mr.  Tanring  replies. 
"Alight  horse  often  has  alight  thin  skin;  the 
least  thing  scratches  it.  Just  the  same  with  a 
man.  Take  a  sun-burnt  gipsy  fellow,  and  hit 
him  on  the  head  with  a  hamuier  and  you  won't 
hurt  him  much." 

Thinking  that  so  tough  a  man,  so  little  sus- 
ceptible to  injury,  would  hardly  perhaps  be  the 
best  one  to  select  to  try  such  experiments  on, 
I  follow  the  proprietor  of  the  big  show  to  look 
at  the  famous  carriage  in  which,  before  the  per- 
formers begin  their  business,  they  are  di-awn 
round  the  ring ;  evidently  one  of  the  special 
treasures. 

"  That  carriage,"  its  owner  proceeds,  "  was 
sent  to  President  Lincoln  soon  after  his  election, 
but  it  was  too  fine  for  him — he  didn't  care  for 
that  sort  of  thing — so  I  bought  it,  took  it  from 
New  York  to  Hamburg,  when  there  was  all  that 
business  about  a  Congress  after  the  Franco- 
Prussian  war.  All  the  emperors  and  kings  were 
there,  you  know,  in  state,  but  they  were  '  not 
in  it.'     Most  of  them  came  to  look  at  it — that 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES    AT    THE    CIRCUS.  289 

carving  in  front's  beautiful,  you  see,  and  it's  a 
real  fine  carriage.  Everybody  acknowledged 
that  Tanring  bad  a  better  carriage  tban  any 
monarch  in  Europe.  The  harness  is  splendid, 
too.  See  here  !  It  nearly  takes  an  elephant  to 
carry  it — strong  horses  I  have  to  get,  I  can  tell 
you.  That  harness  was  made  for  the  Emperor 
Napoleon,  just  before  he  went  to  the  campaign 
to  Sedan.  He  never  got  back  in  time  to  take 
it  up,"  says  Mr.  Tanring,  dryly.  "There's  no 
nonsense  about  that  carriage,  and  the  servants 
are  to  match.  All  dressed  in  the  best  gold, 
bullion,  silk,  and  velvet.  Each  man  has  more 
than  jSIOO  worth  of  clothes  on  as  he  stands 
behind,  and  the  coachman  on  the  box  too." 

"  You  seem  to  have  had  a  pretty  intimate 
acquaintance  with  crowned  heads,"  I  suggest, 
as  another  present  from  the  late  King  of  Italy 
is  pointed  out.  "  I  suppose  Victor  Emmanuel 
was  very  fond  of  circuses  ?  " 

''Fond  of  circuses,  sir?  He  was  the  best 
fellow  in  the  world !  "  Mr.  Tanring  cries,  and 
I  take  it  to  be  as  neat  a  response  as  I  have 
heard  for  a  long  time. 

From  the  circus  proprietor's  standpoint  it  is 
easy  to  comprehend  that  good  fellows  are  esti- 
mated according  to  their  appreciation  of  the 
entertainment  he  provides  ;   and  the  king  must 

19 


290  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

therefore   have   been  estiniable   in  the   highest 
degree. 

'«  Why,"  my  interesting  informant  continues, 
''I've  often  had  the  king  in  the  morning  when 
we  were  practising  in  the  ring,  with  the  whip 
in  his  hand — yes,  and  the  princes  holding  gates 
for  my  wife  to  jump." 

"  I've  not  the  least  doabt  she  jumped  them 
very  admirably,"  I  reply,  and  my  companion 
more  than  admits  it. 

"  Jump,  sir  ?  "  he  says.  "  I'd  give  a  thousand 
pounds  to  any  lady  that  would  follow  my  wife. 
There  !  and  that  one's  coming  near  up  to  her," 
he  goes  on,  as  we  emerge  from  the  stables  and 
enter  the  body  of  the  hall. 

"  Your  daughter,  isn't  it  ?  Good-looking 
horse  that  chestnut.  Does  she  usually  ride 
it  ?  "  I  ask. 

"  Never  been  on  it  before,  and  it's  never 
carried  a  lady,  either,"  he  answers,  as  we 
approach  the  ring,  where  the  young  lady,  on  a 
compact  little  chestnut,  is  riding  over  some  poles 
held  to  the  sides  of  the  enclosure. 

"  Don't  let  his  head  loose,  my  dear  !  Hold 
him  up  and  make  him  look  like  something. 
That's  it !     Where's  the  gate  ?  " 

A  gate  with  three  bars  is  brought  into  the 
ring,  and  over  it  the  little  horse  bounds. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES    AT    THE    CIECUS.  291 

'^That's  it!  Don't  let  his  head  go  too 
loose,  or  else  he'U  slummock  all  over  the  place. 
That's  it !  Now  then,  where's  the  big  gate  ? 
Take  it  in,  Johnny ;  lend  a  hand  to  hold  it  up." 

The  brave  girl  glances  at  the  sturdy  piece  of 
carpentry.  There  is  no  mistake  about  it.  The 
gate  is  of  at  least  the  usual  height,  firmly  made 
of  good  stout  timber,  the  sort  of  thing  that,  if  it 
has  to  be  jumped,  stops  a  very  considerable 
majority  of  a  hunting-field. 

*'  All  right,  my  dear!  If  he  can  jump  one 
he  can  jump  the  other.  Hold  him  well  together ; 
don't  let  him  slummock,"  cries  her  father,  as  she 
canters  round  the  ring  preparatory  to  trying  it. 
"Now  then!     Up!" 

Over  goes  the  gallant  little  horse,  with  more 
than  a  bit  of  a  buck  ;  but  his  rider's  seat  is  sure 
and  her  hands  cunning,  though  the  big  jolt 
sends  her  hat  off,  and  it  hangs  round  her  neck 
as  she  comes  to  the  gate  again,  and  clears  it  a 
second  time. 

*'  Now  then,  round  the  hurdles,"  her  father 
gays  ;  and  I  note  that  four  good  big  gorse-covered 
hurdles  have  been  arranged  round  the  hall,  after 
the  fashion  adopted  at  the  Horse  Show. 

The  little  chestnut  does  not  care  about 
jumping  any  more,  but  his  mistress  has  a  will  of 
her  own,  and,  as  he  tries  to  bolt  out  towards 


292  EACECOUBSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

the    stables,   is   on  the   alert   and    checks   him 
promptly. 

"  Now,  my  dear.  Keep  yom*  head  up  a  bit 
when  yon  jump.  Let  him  go — not  too  fast. 
Bravo  !  "  he  cries,  as  the  little  horse  swings 
over  the  jump,  the  rider  scarcely  swerving  in  the 
saddle;  and  "  bravo '^  from  this  critic  means  a 
very  great  deal.  "  That'll  do,  my  dear,"  he  says 
kindly;  and  there  is  a  proud  twinkle  in  the 
father's  eye  as  he  watches  the  brave  girl  ride  off 
to  the  stables — as  well  there  may  be.  "  I've 
had  most  of  the  noted  lady  riders  in  my  hippo- 
drome, sir ;  but  there  are  few  of  them  good  for 
much.  They  go  bumping  about  on  the  horse, 
keeping  tight  hold  of  his  head,  or  else  letting 
him  slummock  all  over  the  place . "  ("  Slummock- 
ing," it  will  be  observed,  is  an  offence  in  Mr. 
i  Tanring's  eyes.)  ''  No  ;  it  isn't  easy  to  jump 
such  a  gate  in  the  circle,  I  can  tell  you.  Where 
would  the  best  steeplechase  rider  be,  if  he  wasn't 
trained  to  it  ?  Why,  over  the  side  of  the  ring, 
horse  and  all.  You've  got  to  be7id  him  at  it," 
he  explains,  holding  an  imaginary  pair  of  reins 
in  his  hands,  and  illustrating  the  process.  ''  It's 
easier  for  a  man,  besides,  with  two  spurs,  a  pair 
of  knees  and  a  couple  of  hands  on  him.  But 
that  girl  can  ride." 

"  We  Englishmen   flatter  ourselves  that  we 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES    AT    THE    CIRCUS.  293 

understand  something  about  horses,  you  know, 
Mr.  Taming.  What  countrymen  do  you  find 
best  for  your  business  ?  "  I  ask. 

*  'Yes,  I  suppose  Englishmen  do  know  something 
about  horses,  though  it's  dreadfully  dispiriting 
work  with  some  of  them  that  come  to  see  mine," 
he  answers.  ''  I  show  a  man  sometimes  one  of 
my  best  horses,  get  him  to  notice  the  shape  and 
points  of  the  animal,  go  carefully  over  it,  think- 
ing that  he's  taking  it  all  in,  and  then  he  says^ 
*  Dear  me,  Mr.  Taming,  what  a  lovely  tail  he's 
got  P  I'd  rather  have  a  blow  on  the  head  than 
hear  such  a  speech  !  As  for  training  horses, 
there's  no  one  like  the  G-ermans ;  the  best 
trainers,  they  are,  for  horses  to  dance,  or  to  go 
at  liberty,  or  any  other  sort  of  work.  Germans 
seem  to  have  more  patience.  But  when  the 
horses  are  once  broke,  and  it  comes  to  showing 
them,  there's  no  one  like  an  Englishman  or  an 
American.  The  Germans  are  too  slummocky. 
The  Englishman  goes  into  the  ring  with  his 
head  up,  and  puts  the  horse  through  his  work ; 
but  the  German  goes  round  after  the  horse  as 
though  he  were  carrying  a  load  of  wood." 

"  How  did  you  come  to  know  so  much  of  all 
the  kings  and  emperors  ?  "  I  presently  ask. 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you,"  replied  my  companion, 
"  for   it's   rather   a   strange    story.     I   had    my 


294  EACECOURSE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

circus  over  in  France,  and  had  got  to  about 
forty  miles  from  Paris,  when  I  heard  there  was 
to  be  a/efe  at  a  place  they  called  St.  Cloud.  I 
thought  this  was  a  good  chance  for  me,  so  after 
the  performance  and  supper  I  started  off  with 
my  secretary,  driving  a  pair  of  horses,  and 
reached  St.  Cloud  about  five  o'clock  in  the 
inorning.  A  real  nice  place  it  was  for  a  circus, 
too ;  but  I  couldn't  put  up  my  tents  without 
permission,  and  so  I  looked  round  to  see  who 
was  about.  Well,  there  was  a  stout,  littlish 
gentleman  coming  along  the  road  where  I'd 
pulled  up. 

*'  'Ask  him  if  he  knows  where  we  ought  to 
apply,'  I  said  to  my  friend.  He  could  speak 
French  and  I  couldn't. 

'' '  I  can  speak  English,'  the  gentleman  said. 
'  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  ' 

"'Well,  sir,'  I  answered,  'I've  got  a  circus 
and  want  to  give  a  show  here,  if  I  can  get 
permission.' 

"  '  I  think  that  will  be  possible,'  the  gentle- 
man said.  '  Surely  that's  an  American-built 
carriage  ?  '  he  went  on.  '  Are  the  horses 
American,  too  ? ' 

"  Yes,  sir,'  I  told  him,  '  and  rare  good  trotters. 
They've  come  nearly  forty  miles,  but  they're  not 
done  yet  as  you  shall  see  if  you  care  about  it.' 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES    AT    THE    CIRCUS.         295 

'' '  Thank  yon,  sir,'  says  he.  '  I'm  very  much 
interested  in  horses  ;  '  and  he  jumped  up  and 
sat  by  my  side  while  I  sent  them  along. 

*'  When  he  got  down  he  gave  me  a  card  with 
something  written  on  it,  and  told  me  where  to 
take  it,  and  he  thought  they'd  give  me  leave, 
and  so  they  did.  We  pitched  in  a  beautiful 
place,  and  when  the  people  were  coming  in  I 
saw  the  gentleman  standing  among  a  group 
of  officers. 

"  '  There's  the  gentleman  that  got  me  per- 
mission. I'll  go  and  thank  him.  Perhaps  he'd 
like  to  see  the  performance,'  I  said. 

"  But  the  sentry  shook  his  head  and  wouldn't 
let  me  pass. 

"  '  I  want  to  go  and  speak  to  that  gentleman,' 
I  told  him.  '  He  was  very  kind  to  me,  and  I've 
got  something  to  say  to  him.' 

"  Perhaps  he  didn't  understand,  but  another 
gentleman  standing  by  says — 

"  '■  You  must  not  go  there,  sir.' 

''  'Why  not?'  I  asked. 

"  '  Why,  it's  the  Emperor.' 

"So  it  was,  too,  and  I'd  given  him  a  ride, 
and  been  talking  to  him  quite  familiarly.  But 
he  saw  me,  and  came  to  the  circus,  too,  and 
gave  me  permission  to  play  when  I  liked  in 
Paris.     I'm  the  only  man  that  ever  had  leave  to 


296  EACECOUKSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

put  up  a  tent  inside  the  walls  of  Paris.  I  often 
saw  him  after  that,  and  he  gave  me  a  letter  to 
King  Victor  Emmanuel,  who  was  always  very 
good  to  me.  I've  given  a  performance  in  the 
old  Eoman  Amphitheatre,  and  there  must  have 
been  70,000  or  80,000  people  there." 

This,  and  very  much  more,  Mr.  Tanring 
relates  [in  his  own  peculiarly  graphic  style  as  we 
stroll  about  the  building.  One  most  admirable 
feature  about  the  circus  is  that  hmchiess  to  the 
horses  seems  to  be  the  rule.  The  proprietor 
declares  that  the  more  he  sees  of  horses  the 
more  intelligent  he  finds  them  ;  and  the  manner 
in  which  the  lion  tamer  has  trained  his  elephants 
and  lions  is  marvellous.  The  former  huge 
creatures  waltz  about  in  pairs,  stand  on  their 
heads  with  startling  agility,  and  seem  to  under- 
stand every  motion  of  their  master's  hand. 

''  But  notice  how  the  tamer  comes  out  of 
the  lions'  den,"  says  a  friend  who  is  with  me. 
"  He  slips  out  very  quickly,  and  there's  one  lion 
that  always  jumps  after  him  as  if  it  regretted 
having  missed  its  opportunity  of  having  man  for 
supper." 

So  surely  enough  the  lion  does,  with  what 
seems  like  an  angry  snarl ;  but  on  asking  their 
master  whether  the  lion  is  anxious  to  eat  him, 
he  smiles  quietly  at  the  notion. 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES    AT  THE    CIRCUS.  297 

"  Only  a  little  trick  I  taught  him,"  he 
explains.  "  I  always  have  one  to  do  that,  and  if 
you  notice  you'll  see  he  doesn't  jump  at  the 
door,  but  a  little  above  it.  There's  another  in 
the  cage  that  has  been  taught  to  do  it." 

How  this  courageous  man  gives  his  cue  to  the 
lion  that  is  to  jump,  and  makes  the  other  under- 
stand that  he  is  to  be  quiet,  are  some  among  the 
many  mysteries  of  Tanring's  Hippodrome. 


BETTING. 

The  method  of  throwing  away  money  which  is 
known  as  backing  horses  appears  to  be  rather 
on  the  increase  than  otherwise,  a  circumstance 
which  very  distinctly  proves  that  the  world  does 
not  grow  wiser  as  it  grows  older.  Bookmakers 
spring  from  nothing,  and  thrive ;  there  is 
scarcely  a  case  on  record  of  one  of  these  per- 
sonages who  started  with  a  little  money  and  did 
not  make  it  into  a  great  deal ;  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  there  are  numerous  cases  of  men  who 
have  started  with  a  fortune  and  left  it  all — with 
possibly  a  few  unpaid  accounts — in  the  ring. 
In  most  things  professionals  beat  amateurs,  and 
this  is  particularly  the  case  in  gambling  on  the 
Turf,  where  one  side  is  guided  by  a  little  know- 
ledge and  a  large  proportion  of  chance,  while 
the  other  side  has  probably  equal  knowledge — 
for  what  it  is  worth — and  a  mathematical  cer- 
tainty. The  fascination  of  the  game  is  extreme, 
or  so  many  men  who  should  know  better  would 
not  continue  to  play  it. 


BETTING.  299 

Three  words  to  a  bookmaker,  and  the  Monday 
following  brings  a  cheque  for  just  the  sum  you 
have  desired  to  win — if  only  the  words  be 
properly  chosen.  "  Four  to  one  Fair  Promise  !  " 
yells  the  bookmaker.  ''  I'll  have  four  hundred  to 
one,"  remarks  the  backer,  who  fancies  the  colt 
by  Hope,  from  Deception ;  and  if  the  creature 
can  just  get  his  head  in  front  at  the  critical 
moment,  the  mere  utterance  of  the  simple 
phrase  is  worth  .£400. 

Only,  as  a  very  general  rule.  Fair  Promise, 
after  making  a  bold  show  at  the  distance,  dies 
away  to  nothing,  and  finishes  a  bad  thii'd ;  in 
which  case  the  simplicity  of  the  operation,  which 
had  seemed  so  delightful  at  the  time,  becomes  a 
fatal  element.  If  a  man  can  win  money  nowa- 
days from  the  ring,  there  is  very  little  doubt 
about  his  being  paid.  Backers  make  few  bad 
debts  if  they  can  only  find  a  winner,  but  Jlog 
opus,  hie  labor  est. 

So-called  ''good  things"  are  the  ruin  of 
speculators.  Nowhere  else  is  it  more  true  than 
on  the  Turf  that  a  little  knowledge  is  a  dangerous 
thing.  The  horse  that  is  ''good  enough  to  win 
five  Derbies  out  of  six "  is  a  cruel  source  of 
downfall  when,  as  usually  happens,  it  is  on  the 
sixth  occasion  that  the  backer  plunges.  A  man 
is   perhaps   in   the   secrets  of  the   stable.     He 


300  BACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

knows  that  a  certain  horse  has  been  tried ;  he 
even  knows  at  what  weight  he  met  the  others 
wdth  which  he  was  galloped,  and  how  far  he 
heat  them.  He  is  comforted,  his  money  being 
"  on,"  when  the  news  leaks  out  in  the  papers, 
and  the  prophets  extol  the  performance. 

What  he  does  not  know  is  that  another 
favourite  has  been  tried  ten  pounds  better,  and 
that  an  outsider,  of  whose  existence  not  half  a 
dozen  people  had  been  aware,  is  far  in  advance 
of  either.  He  gloats  over  the  facts  and  the 
criticisms,  he  turns  up  previous  running  in  his 
book,  ingeniously  explains  away  the  bad  per- 
formance, and  exaggerates  the  good  till  the  race 
is  over,  and  he  is  put  out  of  his  misery.  The 
"  book,"  indeed,  the  "  Turf  Guide,"  is  a  constant 
source  of  disaster,  for  horses  are  not  machines, 
that  can  be  implicitly  trusted  to  do  a  second, 
third,  fourth,  and  seventeenth  time  what  they 
have  done  before.  The  horse's  health,  the 
jockey's  ability,  the  luck  of  the  race — avoidance 
of  getting  badly  off  in  a  short  race,  having 
nothing  to  make  running  in  a  long  one,  the 
being  shut  in,  or  interfered  with  at  critical 
moments,  the  nature  of  the  course,  the  state  of 
the  ground — all  tell  on  the  result.  So  many 
totally  unexpected  accidents  occur. 

I  call  to   mind   one  example  of  as   great  a 


BETTING.  801 

so-called  "  certainty "  as  the  Tnrf  seems  to 
afford.  The  horse  had  never  been  better,  all 
the  conditions  of  the  race  suited  him,  he  had 
the  best  rider,  there  was  a  small  field,  and  the 
course  was  a  straight  one,  where  it  seemed 
beyond  the  bounds  of  possibility  that  he  could 
be  shut  in.  To  back  him  was,  in  familiar 
phrase,  "  to  coin  money."  No  one  for  a  single 
second  imagined — as  proved  to  be  the  case — 
that  he  would  twist  a  plate  on  his  way  to  the 
post,  so  that  a  nail  running  into  his  foot  entirely 
prevented  him  from  galloping. 

A  frequent  source  of  grief  to  men  who  back 
horses — though  usually  at  the  outset  of  their 
career,  for  they  learn  wisdom — is  a  belief  in 
''systems."  Some  of  these  look  so  charmingly 
simple  on  paper  that  a  fortune  must  be  within 
the  backer's  grasp,  he  cannot  but  feel  convinced. 
This  is  notably  the  case  with  the  seductive  idea 
of  starting  with  a  small  stakes,  backing  the 
favourite  each  time,  and  doubling  losses  till  a 
favourite  wins,  as  statistics  prove  he  does  rather 
more  than  once  in  three  races.  Infallible  in 
theory,  it  fails  lamentably  in  practice. 

There  are,  of  course,  men  who  bet  heavily 
year  after  year ;  but  they  are  usually  men  whose 
private  fortunes  enable  them  to  afford  the 
luxury  of  supporting  the  ring ;  and  it  is  a  well 


302  RACECOUESE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

known  fact  that,  with  a  few  exceptions  which 
point  the  rule,  men  who  live  by  racing,  owners 
of  small  studs  and  such  like,  are  consistently 
moderate  in  their  investments.  It  is  notorious 
that  one  of  the  most  successful  owners  and 
trainers  of  steeplechasers — a  man  with  two  or 
three  stables  full  of  horses — rarely  or  never 
exceeds  an  outlay  of  two  sovereigns  on  his 
animals.  A  jockey  of  world-wide  fame,  who  is 
also  owner  and  trainer  of  one  of  the  largest 
collections  of  horses  in  England,  on  rare  occa- 
sions ventures  £50,  on  what  he  has  convinced 
himself  is  a  comparatively  certain  chance ;  but 
as  a  very  general  custom  he  does  not  exceed 
a  bet  of  £10.  Yet  another  famous  jockey, 
attached  some  years  ago  to  one  of  the  most 
successful  of  training  stables,  was  accustomed  to 
reply,  when  asked  what  he  would  like  to  have 
in  the  stable  commission,  that  he  should  be  glad 
to  venture  a  couple  of  pounds.  The  fact  that  he 
did  not  make  money,  or  rather  that  he  did  not 
manage  to  retain  the  money  he  made,  was  well 
known,  and  surprised  his  employers.  "  If  he 
betted  it  would  be  comprehensible,"  it  was  said  ; 
and,  in  fact,  on  the  quiet  he  did  bet  heavily, 
and  lost  his  liberal  earnings  and  presents 
accordingly. 

This  may  look  very  trivial  to  those  who  read 


BETTING.  303 

how  one  trainer  (who  had  caused  a  horse  to  be 
pulled  at  Newmarket)  won  tens  of  thousands  of 
pounds,  and  how  (with  an  animal  that  had  run 
no  faster  than  an  indifferent  hack  on  its  two  or 
three  previous  essays)  a  fortune  was  made  by 
another.  A  few  men  who  have  the  wit  to  make 
money  have  likewise  the  wit  to  keep  it ;  but  the 
figure  of  the  rocket  and  the  stick  is  applicable 
to  many  plungers  who  have  landed  coups.  Men 
who  have  schemed  to  win,  and  succeeded  in 
winning,  great  races,  are  driving  cabs,  possibly 
drawn  by  the  crocks  that  have  helped  to  ruin 
them.  One  well-known  man,  who  made  at  least 
two  fortunes,  and  who  was  talked  of  and  envied 
as  a  wonderfully  lucky  owner,  lost  every  penny 
he  possessed,  and  became  timekeeper  on  a  line  of 
omnibuses.     Luck  comes — and  goes. 

What,  then,  it  may  be  asked,  should  be  done 
by  the  race-goer,  who  likes  to  feel  some  greater 
interest  in  the  race  than  the  mere  spectacle  of 
the  struggle  can  afford  ?  There  is  something  to 
be  said  for  the  plan  of  supporting  favourites  ; 
because  a  horse  is  not  likely  to  attain  that 
favouritism  unless  it  has  done  good  work  at 
home,  and  commanded  the  confidence  of  its 
stable.  Favourites  are,  of  course,  made  and 
worked  up  in  the  market  on  occasions  for 
deceptive  reasons  ;  but,  as  a  rule,  to  "  follow  the 


304  EACECOUESE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

money  "  is  judicious.  The  searcher  for  winners 
will  also  probably  have  found  that  one  or  two  of 
the  sporting  ''prophets  "  write  with  knowledge 
and  judgment.  Some  of  them,  on  the  other 
hand,  do  not ;  but  he  must  take  pains  to  find 
those  who  do,  and  note  their  advice.  It  will  be 
well  for  him,  perhaps,  furthermore,  to  study 
"  the  book,"  and  make  himself  acquainted  with 
the  form  of  the  horse  he  is  inclined  to  fancy. 
He  should  also  consider  whether  it  belongs  to  a 
stable  that  is  worthy  of  confidence,  presided 
over  by  an  efficient  trainer,  and  whether  the 
jockey  is  a  master  of  his  craft.  If  he  knows 
anything  of  horses,  he  should  then  carefully 
look  it  over  in  the  paddock  and  during  its 
preliminary  canter,  noting  also  how  it  goes  in 
the  market. 

Having  done  all  this,  and  convinced  himself 
that  the  horse  is  likely  to  win,  he  will  be  in  a 
position  to  advise  his  friends — men  on  a  race- 
course usually  take  any  advice  that  is  confidently 
offered  from  any  quarter — to  back  the  animal. 
He  had  better  not  do  so  himself,  as  there  are 
numerous  chances  against  him  of  which  he 
knows  nothing.  Should  they  take  his  advice, 
and  win,  he  can  congratulate  himself  on  the 
benefit  he  has  conferred  ;  should  they  not  show 
faith   pecuniarily,  he   can   reproach   them   with 


BETTING.  305 

their  folly  in  missing  the  "  good  thing  ;  "  while, 
should  they  lose,  he  will  have  no  difficulty  in 
finding  numerous  reasons  to  show  that  the 
defeat  is  an  unexampled  piece  of  bad  luck, 
which,  however,  rather  vindicates  his  judgment 
than  otherwise. 


20 


JOCKEYS. 

With  a  considerable  section  of  tlie  public  a 
leading  jockey  is  one  of  the  most  important 
and  popular  of  personages,  to  be  named  and 
welcomed  with  at  least  as  much  enthusiasm  as 
opera-goers  bestow  upon  a  favourite  prima 
donna.  And  there  are,  indeed,  many  points  of 
similarity  between  the  heroines  of  the  stage  and 
the  heroes  of  the  saddle.  The  rewards  to  be 
gained  in  each  case  are  enormous ;  in  each  case, 
too,  the  natural  and  acquired  gifts  and  abilities 
are  rarely  found  in  anything  approaching  to 
perfection,  and  those  who  attain  to  the  front 
rank  are  few  and  far  between.  The  prizes  are 
open  to  the  humblest;  there  is  no  Eoyal  road 
to  success,  and  proofs  of  merit  must  be  con- 
stantly forthcoming.  One  of  the  most  popular 
of  prime  donne  played  the  fiddle  at  country 
fairs ;  others  are  known  to  have  sprung  from  the 
poorest  classes ;  and  a  jockey  has  usually  been 
a  stable-boy.  There  is  no  lack  of  young  ladies 
with    good  voices,    an   adequate   knowledge   of 


JOCKEYS.  307 

music,  and  fair  dramatic  ability ;  and  a  morning 
spent  on  Newmarket  Heath,  not  to  speak  of 
Kingsclere,  Danebury,  Malton,  Lambourne,  Stan- 
ton, Manton,  and  other  much-frequented  train- 
ing grounds,  shows  that  riding  awkward  horses 
is  an  art  in  which  innumerable  lads  display 
considerable  proficiency.  Yet,  though  many  of 
these  lads  have  their  chances,  the  top  of  the 
tree  is  a  position  seldom  approached,  much 
more  seldom  attained,  and,  with  hundreds  of 
dihgent  aspirants  to  fame,  the  popular  jockeys 
of  the  day  scarcely  exceed  half  a  dozen.  That 
there  ''  must  be  something  in  "  the  successful 
rider  of  races  becomes  therefore  apparent,  and  a 
glance  at  incidents  in  the  careers  of  jockeys, 
past  and  present,  may  help  to  show  what  that 
something  is. 

According  to  "  The  Druid,"  the  history  of 
jockeys  began  with  John  Singleton,  who  was 
born  in  1715,  and  hired  himself  out  to  train  and 
ride  for  the  small  wage  of  liberty  to  sleep  in  the 
stable  and  such  food  as  he  could  get — a  contrast 
indeed  to  his  brethren  of  the  present  day,  some 
of  whom  own  strings  of  racehorses,  while  most 
of  them  live  luxuriously  (if  only  the  tyrant 
weight  wiU  admit),  and  put  by  fortunes,  if  they 
care  to  save,  amounting  in  one  instance,  unless 
popular  rumour  errs,  to  over  £100,000 — a  hand- 


308  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

some  figure  for  a  young  man  of  some  five  or  six 
and  twenty,  who  began  life  in  a  stable-boy's 
jacket  "without  a  sixpence  to  call  his  own. 
Singleton's  doings,  however,  are  lost  in  the 
mists  of  stable  history,  but  before  he  retired 
from  the  scene  a  figure  appeared  upon  the  race- 
course whose  name  still  hngers — Sam  Chifney, 
senior.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  elder 
Chifney  thoroughly  understood  his  business  and 
thought  for  himself,  his  system  of  finishing  with 
a  loose  rein  being  at  any  rate  original,  though 
nowadays  no  one  would  think  of  adopting  the 
method.  Old  Chifney  had  an  excellent  opinion 
of  himself,  and  his  sons  Sam  and  Will,  who 
followed  in  his  footsteps,  fully  shared  their 
father's  high  estimation  of  the  Chifney  family. 
The  old  man  put  on  record  his  impression  that 
"  in  1773  I  could  ride  horses  in  a  better  manner 
in  a  race  to  beat  others  than  any  person  I  ever 
knew  in  my  time;  and  in  1775  I  could  train 
horses  for  running  better  than  any  person  I  ever 
saw." 

To  compare  the  skill  of  bygone  jockeys 
with  that  exhibited  by  .riders  of  the  present  day 
would  of  course  be  futile.  It  may  be  assumed 
that  then,  as  now,  the  best  men  got  the  most 
out  of  their  horses,  and  that  they  were  ardent 
devotees  of  the  sport  is  shown  by  many  stories, 


JOCKEYS.  309 

as  of  the  famous  Jim  Eobinson  starting  away  to 
the  Heath  to  watch  Frank  Buckle  ride,  and  if 
his  work  were  not  completed  promising  half  his 
plum-pudding  on  the  following  Sunday  to  the 
lad  who  would  nndertake  to  rack  up  his  horse 
for  him.  Frank  Buckle  and  Jim  Eobinson  were 
quite  at  the  head  of  their  profession,  and  the 
criticisms  of  some  of  their  races  are  interesting 
to  sportsmen  of  the  day.  Sporting  reports  now- 
adays are  usually  done  in  a  superficial  manner, 
the  writer  contenting  himself  with  the  summary 
of  bare  facts  ;  but  details  would  often  be 
valuable.  In  an  old  sporting  magazine  the 
reader  will  find  it  described  how  Buckle  on 
Scotia  in  the  Oaks  of  1802  was  "  beaten  three 
times  between  the  Corner  and  home,"  but  finally 
got  up  and  won.  A  less  accomplished  rider 
would  have  made  his  effort  with  undue  despera- 
tion and  abandoned  the  contest ;  but  Buckle 
knew  the  great  secret  of  nursing  his  horse,  and 
was  also  a  proficient  in  what  is  known  as 
*'  gammoning,"  that  is,  "  appearing  to  be  at  work 
when  in  reality  waiting,  a  practice  very  dangerous 
to  opponents,  who  never  knew  when  he  had 
done  with  his  horse."  Buckle  was  regarded  as 
a  rich  man,  his  earnings  as  a  rider  being  calcu- 
lated at  ^1200  a  year.  In  spite  of  Robinson's 
admiration  for  Buckle,  he  is  said  to  have  formed 


310  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

his  style  chiefly  on  Sam  Chifney,  for  Buckle, 
Eobinson  declared,  "  hadn't  Sam's  fiddling,"  and 
a  critic  continues  that  "  Sam's  fingers  on  the 
reins,  when  a  horse  had  a  delicate  mouth,  went 
like  the  feet  of  a  dancer  on  the  tight-rope." 
But  some  of  Eobinson's  own  successes  were 
astonishing  enough,  notably  one  contest  in  which 
the  rider  of  the  second  fancied  that  he  had  the 
race  in  hand  and  firmly  believed  that  he  had 
actually  been  successful.  Two  strides  before 
the  post  Eobinson's  antagonist  was  well  ahead, 
and  two  strides  beyond  the  post  he  was  leading, 
but  at  that  precise  monent,  when  they  flashed 
past  the  judge's  box,  Eobinson  won  the  race. 
This  excellent  jockey  won  the  Derby  six  times, 
the  Oaks  and  St.  Leger  both  twice ;  but  the 
St.  Leger  jockey  par  excellence  was  William 
Scott,  a  younger  brother  of  John  Scott  the 
trainer,  to  whom  nine  victories  on  the  Town 
Moor  are  credited. 

Among  the  qualifications  for  success  in  this 
calling,  a  profound  knowledge  of  the  horse  is 
naturally  prominent,  and  this  has  not  often  been 
more  marvellously  displayed  than  by  Harry 
Edwards  in  the  case  of  Don  John's  last  race. 
Lord  Chesterfield  and  his  trainer,  John  Scott, 
debated  much  whether  it  would  be  advisable 
to   start    the   horse,   and,    "The   Druid"   says, 


JOCKEYS.  311 

Edwards'  veterinary  law  was  finally  invoked. 
*'  Pulling  off  his  white  kid  gloves,  he  passed  his 
hand  down  the  horse's  back  sinews,  and  rephed, 
*'  He'll  pull  through,  and  only  just."  The  result, 
the  Turf  historian  continues,  "  proved  that  he 
had  not  drawn  his  bow  at  a  venture.  He  could 
hardly  keep  him  on  his  legs  from  the  Duke's 
Stand,  and  then  both  his  back  sinews  went  so 
completely  that  they  were  nearly  an  hour  getting 
him  home  to  the  stables."  The  name  of  Frank 
Butler  will  recall  memories  to  many  racing  men. 
The  Oaks  was  Butler's  most  successful  race,  and 
in  the  ten  years  from  1843  to  1852  this  jockey 
was  victorious  on  no  fewer  than  six  occasions, 
while  in  the  latter  year  he  won  the  Derby  for 
Mr.  Bowes  on  Daniel  O'Eourke,  and  in  the  next 
year  for  the  same  master  on  West  Australian, 
"I  only  touched  him  once  with  the  spur, 
and  was  glad  enough  to  get  him  stopped," 
was  Butler's  remark  afterwards ;  and  on  the 
grandson  of  Melbourne  he  won  his  second  St. 
Leger. 

The  names  of  jockeys  still  to  be  found  on  the 
racecourse  crop  up  contemporaneously  with  the 
name  of  Butler,  though  Aldcroft's  rushes  are  no 
more,  and  Wells,  a  victim  to  the  exigencies  of 
training,  has  departed.  The  Grimshaws — Harry, 
who  did  such  good  work,  though  handicapped  by 


312  EACECOUESE   AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

short  sight  (Gladiateur's  Derby  and  St.  Leger  to 
wit),  and  James,  the  popular — too  popular — light- 
weight, a  leading  figure  in  the  Marquis  of 
Hastings'  Turf  career — have  vanished  from  the 
scene,  Harry  having  been  killed  in  a  road  acci- 
dent. S.  Kenyon,  again,  whose  mounts  were 
once  followed  almost  as  Archer's  are  to-day, 
disappeared  prematurely,  and  the  name  of 
Chaloner  is  no  longer  a  power  on  the  course. 
Still  active  survivors  who  figured  in  a  com- 
paratively bygone  era  are  found  in  J.  Osborne, 
J.  Snowden,  and  last,  not  least,  George  Ford- 
ham. 

This  jockey's  career  is  remarkable.  After 
making  an  early  appearance  as  the  rider  of  a 
Chester  Cup  winner  (carrying  4st.  101b.),  Ford- 
ham's  name  is  to  be  found  in  the  list  of  classic 
races  as  the  rider  of  the  winners  of  both  One 
Thousand  Guineas  and  Oaks,  on  Mr.  W.  S. 
Crawfurd's  Mayonnaise  and  Lord  Londes- 
borough's  Summerside  (a  daughter  of  West 
Australian),  in  1859.  His  victories  were  forty- 
one  in  the  year  1875,  and  for  the  next  two  years 
Fordham  was  an  absentee.  In  1878  he  returned 
to  the  turf,  rode  fifty-eight  winners,  and  next 
year  made  a  good  race  for  supremacy  with 
Archer,  who  finished  with  120  wins  against 
George   Fordham's    105.      It   is   much   in   this 


JOCKEYS.  313 

excellent  jockey's  favour  that  the  tedious,  pain- 
ful, and  dangerous  sweating,  which  is  the  bane 
of  so  many  riders'  existence,  is  avoided,  as  Ford- 
ham  can  without  trouble  ride  7st.  81bs.  Like 
many  other  admirable  horsemen,  Fordham  is  far 
from  being  a  model  of  grace  and  elegance  in  the 
saddle.  He  has  indeed  a  very  ungainly  method 
of  hunching  up  his  shoulders  as  he  sits  on  his 
saddle,  but  this  detracts  nothing  from  the  credit 
that  must  be  given  to  him,  for  possessing  nearly 
all  the  requisites  of  a  first-class  jockey.  He  is 
a  remarkable  judge  of  pace  ;  knows  not  only 
what  his  own  horse  is  doing,  but  can  tell  what 
his  opponents  are  doing  likewise ;  and  possesses 
that  gift  of  patience  which  is  one  of  the  chief 
necessities  for  a  great  jockey.  Constant  race- 
goers would  find  it  hard  to  name  two  occasions 
on  which  Fordham  has  lost  his  temper  with  his 
horse,  though  one  occasion  might  be  named — 
the  July  Cup  at  Newmarket.  Fordham  was  on 
Peter,  Archer  on  Charibert,  and  the  former 
started  favourite  ;  but  no  persuasion  could  make 
the  ill-tempered  son  of  Hermit  run  up  to  his 
bit,  and  the  jockey  had  not  quite  finished  his 
persuasion  when  the  judge's  box  was  passed, 
three  lengths  behind  Charibert.  That  Peter 
was  a  terribly  ugly  animal  to  manage  is  obvious, 
however,   and  no  one   knows  better   than   this 


314  '     KACECOUKSE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

rider  how  to  deal  gently  and  tenderly  with  a 
young  horse.  Shrewd  common  sense,  moreover, 
marks  Fordham's  proceedings,  and  out  of  many 
instances  the  course  he  chose  for  Sir  Bevys  in 
the  Derby  of  1879  may  be  mentioned.  From 
Tattenham  Corner  to  the  judge's  box  the  track 
slopes  from  the  Stand  side  ;  and  knowing  that 
after  all  the  rain  that  had  fallen  the  lower  side 
of  the  course  would  be  the  heavier,  Fordham 
kept  on  the  upper  ground,  the  better  going  there 
having,  no  doubt,  much  to  do  with  the  victory. 
On  the  different  Newmarket  courses  experience 
and  forethought  often  enable  him  to  pull  a  race 
out  of  the  fire,  and  though  no  rider  more  fre- 
quently practises  the  dangerous  trick  of  winning 
by  just  a  short  head,  when,  in  reality,  he  has 
plenty  in  hand,  it  is  very  rarely  indeed  that 
Fordham  makes  a  mistake.  All  jockeys  like  to 
draw  it  fine,  and  some  of  the  best  occasionally 
draw  it  too  fine  by  just  that  trifling  fraction 
which  makes  such  a  vast  difference  when  the 
numbers  are  hoisted  by  the  judge. 

But  there  is  no  getting  away  from  the  facts 
proved  by  plain  figures,  and  Archer's  average  of 
wins  and  mounts  during  the  last  few  years 
makes  it  hard  for  his  detractors  to  explain  his 
success.  Many  race-goers  protest  that  Archer 
wins   so   often   because   he  is  So   often  on  the 


JOCKEYS. 


315 


favourite,  but  frequently  the  favourite  holds  that 
position  simply  because  Archer  rides.  The 
figures  remain.  If  he  not  seldom  has  the  best 
horse,  having  been  secured  by  owners  who  feel 
sure  of  success  if  their  animals  are  only  well 
ridden,  sometimes  he  has  to  ride  horses  which 
practically  have  no  chance ;  but,  putting  all 
these  considerations  aside,  figures  show  that  for 
a  long  time  past  he  has  ridden  about  two  winners 
on  an  average  on  five  mounts.  His  successes 
this  year  are  the  more  surprising,  because  he  is 
debarred  from  riding  in  many  races  owing  to  the 
fact  that  he  cannot  go  to  scale  under  8st.  61b. 
or  71b.,  a  weight  which  he  often  has  much 
difficulty  in  reaching.  It  is  said  that  Frank 
Butler  was  killed  by  his  exertions  in  reducing 
himself  fi^om  the  8st.  101b.  he  should  have  ridden 
to  the  8st.  71bs.  he  had  to  ride.  Wells  was 
picked  up  in  a  fainting  condition  more  than 
once  ;  and  on  more  than  one  occasion  Eobinson 
(who  could  waste  from  9st.  101b.  to  8st.  in  an 
exceptionally  short  time),  was  found  lying  in- 
sensible on  a  stone  heap  by  the  road-side,  and 
was  brought  home  in  a  cart.  Mr.  William 
Day's  argument  against  light-weights,  who  can- 
not ride  themselves  by  reason  of  their  youth, 
inexperience,  and  want  of  strength,  and  wdio 
(by  the  retention  of  an  absurdly  low  minimum) 


316  EACECOUESE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

keep  tlie  best  horsemen  from  the  saddle  when 
they  have  become  masters  of  their  difficult  craft, 
applies  here  with  much  appositeness.  Archer's 
length  of  leg  is  a  great  assistance  to  him,  and 
gives  him  remarkable  power  in  the  saddle ;  he 
seems  sometimes,  as  it  were,  to  sit  back  and 
drive  his  horse  before  him.  It  is  a  curious, 
and,  under  certain  conditions,  an  extremely 
agreeable  sight  to  watch  the  popular  jockey 
coming  up  towards  the  judge's  box,  level,  per- 
haps, with  the  leading  horses,  or  it  may  be  a 
little  behind  them.  At  that  precise  moment 
when  the  effort  should  be  made,  Archer's  mount 
seems  gradually  to  forge  ahead]  and  steal  to  the 
front ;  a  glance  over  his  shoulder,  which  he  can 
give  without  disturbing  his  seat  in  the  saddle 
as  shorter  riders  appear  to  do,  shows  him  the 
state  of  the  case  as  regards  the  other  horses, 
and  he  either  rides  his  animal  with  vigorous 
severity,  or,  if  this  be  not  necessary,  maintains 
• — if  possible — a  sufficient  advantage  to  the  end. 
Nothing  is  more  scorned  on  the  racecourse  than 
to  see  a  rider  who  has  a  lead  of  some  lengths, 
and  has  evidently  won  the  race,  finishing  des- 
perately when  there  is  nothing  to  finish  against 
— an  example  of  which  was  afforded  by  the  rider 
of  the  famous  Hungarian  mare  Kincsem,  who 
won   the  Goodwood   Cup  some   few  years  ago. 


JOCKEYS.  317 

Archer  seems,  as  a  rule,  quite  severe  enough 
with  his  horses,  but  that  he  can  be  gentle  when 
occasion  demands  is  proved  by  his  handling  of 
Peter,  when  he  won  the  Eoyal  Hunt  Cup  at 
Ascot.  When,  in  accordance  with  his  most 
awkward  habit,  Peter  stopped  to  kick,  a  little 
way  from  the  start,  a  quiet  and  soothing  "  Go 
on,  old  man  !  "  set  this  wonderfully  speedy  horse 
going  again.  Another  requisite  of  jockeyship  is 
courage,  and  this  Archer  possesses  in  abundance, 
as  his  dashes  on  the  rails  round  Tattenham 
Corner  and  such  like  dangerous  places  amply 
demonstrate.  In  Bend  Or's  Derby,  for  example, 
it  is  said  that  his  left  boot  actually  shaved  a 
post,  and  when  one  thinks  of  the  horrible  effect 
of  smashing  a  leg  against  a  massive  piece  of 
wood  when  racing  at  this  terrific  pace,  the 
daring  which  runs  the  risk  so  fine  becomes 
apparent.  "Getting  the  rails"  is  usually  an 
advantage,  as  being  the  shortest  way  round  the 
turning,  but  the  jockey  must  know  when  to  seek 
this  advantage,  and  to  avoid  being  shut  in,  as 
sometimes  happens.  Petronel  would  certainly 
have  won  the  Liverpool  Autumn  Cup  in  1880  but 
that  his  rider  hugged  the  rails,  and  was  afterwards 
unable  to  get  through,  Prestonpans  and  Philam- 
mon  being  in  the  way.  The  stout-hearted  son 
of  Musket  pricked  his  ears  gamely,  and  would 


318  EACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SIDE. 

have  taken  speedy  advantage  of  an  openiDg  had 
one  been  made  ;  but  though  going  much  stronger 
at  the  finish  than  the  first  and  second,  could 
only  get  into  third  place. 

There  is  no  better  all-round  horseman  at  pre- 
sent on  the  turf,  and  certainly  no  more  graceful 
rider,  than  Tom  Cannon,  who  is,  indeed,  a  model 
of  v^hat  a  jockey  should  be,  though  at  the  same 
time  he  sacrifices  nothing  material  to  elegance. 
Like  the  rest  of  his  most  accomplished  brethren, 
Cannon  never  wins  by  a  length  if  a  head  will 
do  ;  but  he  is  a  consummate  judge  of  pace,  and 
never  throws  away  a  chance.  Thus,  when 
Eobert  the  Devil  won  the  Ces  are  witch  in  a 
canter,  carrying  8st.  6lb. — an  unprecedented 
weight  for  a  three-year-old  to  bear  victoriously — 
Cannon  was  criticised  by  some  persons  for  ex- 
posing the  horse  by  winning  so  far.  His  explana- 
tion was  that  had  he  not  won  so  easily  he  might 
not  have  won  at  aU ;  for  the  horse  was  going 
freely  and  at  perfect  ease,  and  to  have  pulled 
him  out  of  his  stride  might  have  been  to  have 
stopped  him  altogether.  Cannon  always  rides 
with  his  head,  and  his  "  finish "  is  especially 
fine.  Inferior  jockeys  take  hold  of  their  reins 
and  whirl  their  arms  about  in  a  way  which 
surely  must  have  the  effect  of  confusing,  and  of 
stopping  rather  than  aiding,  the  horse.     Their 


JOCKEYS.  319 

hands  go  as  high  as  their  heads,  round  and 
round  over  their  horse's  withers  ;  they  have  seen 
something  of  the  sort  done  by  riders  of  acknow- 
ledged merit,  and  try  to  reproduce  it,  without  in 
the  least  understanding  what  it  means.  Cannon's 
finish,  on  the  contrary,  is  not  up  and  down,  nor 
round  and  round,  but  a  gliding  motion  of  the 
hands,  backwards  and  forwards,  alternately  sup- 
porting and  encouraging  the  horse,  while  all 
the  time  his  bit  is  touched  with  the  utmost 
gentleness. 

The  only  weakness  ever  urged  against 
Cannon  is  that  he  treats  his  horses  too  gently, 
and  does  not  sometimes  get  the  "last  ounce" 
out  of  them,  as  Archer  invariably  does  ;  but  that 
is  only — if  it  be  the  case  at  all — when  riding  a 
timorous  young  horse,  and  when  the  question 
arises  if  it  is  better  to  punish  the  animal  severely 
on  the  off  chance  of  winning  or  to  avoid  the  risk 
of  spoiling  his  temper,  or  "breaking  his  heart," 
so  that  he  may  not  be  taught  to  dread  a  race- 
course next  time  he  is  wanted.  No  man  can 
punish  a  horse  more  severely  when  punishment 
is  needful,  bnt  Cannon's  theory  is  that  a  game, 
willing  horse  can  be  persuaded  to  do  all  that  he 
can  be  frightened  into  doing. 

The  wonderful  "  hands  "  which  serve  him  so 
well  on  a  racecourse  are  naturally  of  equal  service 


320  RACECOUKSE    AND    COVEET    SIDE. 

to  him  in  riding  across  country  ;  and  no  man  in 
England  goes  better  to  hounds. 

F.  Webb  is  another  sound  horseman,  who  by 
reason  of  the  low  handicap  minimum,  and  the 
consequently  low  maximum,  has  great  difficulty 
in  keeping  himself  down  to  riding  weight. 
Webb's  skill  is  particularly  seen  when  he  finds 
it  necessary  to  hold  his  horse  together,  and  come 
with  a  rush  in  the  last  few  strides ;  and,  what  is 
more,  he  knows  the  precise  moment  when  the 
rush  should  be  made. 

Another  successful  jockey  is  Charles  Wood, 
who  is  fortunate  in  being  able  to  ride  well  under 
8st.  Wood  has  courage  and  judgment.  The 
former  won  him  the  Derby  on  St.  Blaise,  the 
dash  round  the  rails  enabling  him  to  get  a  for- 
ward place  which  he  never  lost.  The  number 
of  winners  he  has  ridden  during  the  last  three 
years  speaks  strongly  in  his  favour ;  for  a  stable 
boy  may,  by  good  luck  and  a  flash  of  inspiration, 
win  the  Derby,  but  to  maintain  such  an  average 
of  success  as  Wood  can  show,  means  consistent 
ability.  Yet  Wood  rarely  rides  a  brilliant  race, 
to  adopt  familiar  phraseology.  He  does  not  give 
striking  evidences  of  horsemanship ;  he  is  a 
steady  capable  jockey  with  much  strength  in  the 
saddle,  determination,  and  a  long  experience 
which  stands  him  in  good  stead ;  but  he  does  not 


JOCKEYS.  321 

seem  to  "pull  races  out  of  the  fire,"  as  some  of 
his  brethren  do,  and  the  art  of  nursing  a  beaten 
horse  home  which  some  few  of  his  brethren 
manage  so  wonderfully  is  probably  beyond  him. 

John  Osborne,  who  comes  of  a  northern 
family  long  connected  with  the  turf,  is  to  be 
mentioned  with  respect  in  any  account  of  the 
jockeys  of  to-day.  The  father  of  the  present 
John  Osborne  trained  for  Lord  Zetland,  Lord 
Londesborough,  and  other  well-known  owners  in 
the  north,  and  it  was  the  old  trainer  who  taught 
his  son  what  he  knows — and  it  is  much — of 
horses  and  horsemanship. 

The  attributes  of  good  jockeyship  are  many, 
and  perhaps  it  would  be  correct  to  put  patience 
almost  at  the  head.  This  has  rarely  been  ex- 
emplified more  strikingly  than  in  the  case  of 
Lord  Clifden's  St.  Leger.  It  was  especially 
desirable  that  the  horse  should  win,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  constant  rumours  that  had  affected 
his  market  status,  and  when  Osborne  found  him- 
self, with  the  worst  of  a  bad  start,  some  hundred 
yards  in  the  rear,  he  may  well  have  felt  the 
extreme  painfulness  of  the  situation ;  for  the 
jockey's  integrity  is  beyond  all  question,  and  yet 
thus  to  be  left  would  have  given  some  strength 
to  the  suspicions  which  had  been  in  some 
mysterious  way — how  has  never  been  explained 

21 


322  RACECOURSE    AND    COVERT    SFDE. 

— called  forth.  Ninety-nine  jockeys  in  a  hundred 
would  have  lost  their  heads  and  flurried  their 
horses,  but  this  admirable  rider  knew  the  powers 
of  the  animal  he  bestrode,  and  waited  till  the 
others  "  came  back  to  him  ;  "  one  after  another 
he  passed,  stole  steadily  but  surely  to  the  front, 
caught  Queen  Bertha,  the  Oaks  winner  of  the 
year  in  the  last  few  strides,  and  victoriously 
landed  the  brown  and  silver  braid. 

Snowden  is  another  familiar  Northern  name, 
and  James  Snowden  is  an  accomplished  horse- 
man. Lasting  fame  belongs  to  the  rider  who 
piloted  the  mighty  Blair  Athol  home  in  the 
Derby  and  St.  Leger  of  1864,  though  in  truth 
the  jockey  here  had  little  to  do  but  sit  still, 
restrain  the  sweeping  stride  of  the  grand  chestnut 
son  of  Stockwell,  and  let  go  his  head  when  the 
post  was  nearly  reached. 

James  Goater  has  ridden  so  many  fine  races 
in  his  time  that  he  should  not  be  omitted, 
though  he  has  no  longer  the  energy  and  vigour 
of  a  young  man,  and  comes  so  slowly  "  from  the 
slips,"  that  it  does  not  encourage  men  who  back 
horses  to  find  him  on  the  saddle  for  a  five  furlong 
race. 

The  two  best  lightweights  of  the  day  are  S. 
Loates  and  E.  Martin,  both  lads  with  old  heads 
on  young  shoulders.     The  former,  an  apprentice 


JOCKEYS.  323 

and  pupil  of  Tom  Cannon,  is  indebted  to  his 
master's  teaching  for  probably  the  most  rapid 
rise  to  favour  ever  made  by  a  jockey.  A  natural 
aptitude  for  horsemanship  young  Loates  must 
have  possessed,  and  no  teaching  could  entirely 
have  given,  greatly  as  it  has  developed,  his 
natural  coolness.  Mornings  spent  on  the  Dane- 
bury Downs  riding  gallops  and  trials  under  his 
master's  watchful  eye  bear  their  good  fruit  on 
the  racecourse,  and  an  occasional  hint  after 
races  have  been  run  has  not  been  lost  on  the 
lad.  Edward  Martin  is  the  son  of  a  highly 
respected  Newmarket  trainer,  himself  formerly  a 
jockey.  Both  Loates  and  Martin  possess  the 
gift  of  patience,  the  value  of  which  has  been 
emphasized ;  they  are  in  no  way  flurried  if  they 
find  Archer  or  Fordham  beside  them,  and  it  is 
certain  that  the  prestige  of  the  great  names  wins 
many  races  for  their  bearers.  So  many  boys, 
and  men  too,  lose  their  heads  at  once  if  they 
find  one  of  the  popular  jockeys  of  the  day  by 
their  sides  ;  then  up  goes  the  whip,  the  effort  is 
made  too  soon,  the  finish  is  weak  and  uncertain, 
rather  hindering  than  helping,  and  the  older 
jockey,  riding  patiently,  has  an  easy  task  to  get 
home. 

Courage,    presence    of    mind,   readiness    of 
resource,  perseverance,  are  indispensable  to  per- 


324  EACECOUESE    AND  COVEET    SIDE. 

feet  horsemansliip  ;  and  to  these  the  jockey  must 
add  an  intuitive  knowledge  of  pace,  and  a 
thorough  comprehension  of  a  horse's  powers.  If 
the  spectator  watch  Fordham,  Cannon,  or 
Archer,  he  will  note  how  they  glance  at  their 
field  and  guage  accui-ately,  as  the  result  so  often 
shows,  what  each  horse  is  doing.  They  know 
not  only  how  their  own  horses  are  going,  but 
how  every  dangerous  animal  in  the  race  is  going 
also.  They  understand  to  a  second  of  time 
when  the  final  efforts  should  be  made,  and  with 
that  inexplicable  gift  known  technically  as 
"  hands,"  Cannon  and  Fordham  are  peculiarly 
successful  in,  as  it  were,  persuading  a  beaten 
horse  that  he  is  not  beaten,  and  reserving  some- 
thing for  the  dash  home. 

Sometimes  it  seems  that  a  jockey  makes  his 
effort  a  little  too  late,  that  if  he  had  "  come  " 
sooner  he  would  just  have  won.  Not  long  since 
Cannon  pulled  his  mount  together  some  ten  or 
twelve  strides  from  the  winning  post,  rode  his 
hardest,  and  just  failed. 

'*It  seemed  to  me,"  a  student  said  to  an 
acknowledged  master  of  the  art  of  horsemanship, 
*'  that  Cannon  came  too  late,  and  that  he  might 
have  just  won  the  race.  Do  you  think  he  would 
have  been  beaten  a  head  if  he  had  come  two 
strides  sooner  ?  " 


JOCKEYS.  325 

"  No ;  I  am  sure  he  would  have  been  beaten 
half  a  length,"  was  the  reply. 

From  what  has  been  said,  an  idea  of  the 
delicacies  and  difiSculties  of  horsemanship  may 
be  gained  by  those  who  have  seen  races  un- 
observantly.  Some  veterinary  science  is  highly 
necessary,  and  happily  the  tradition  that  integrity 
is  needful  still  lingers  in  many  quarters.  All 
these  good  points  are  of  necessity  rarely  found 
in  lads  of  the  class  from  which  our  jockeys  are 
taken,  and  great  as  are  the  rewards  of  success,  it 
is  scarcely  a  matter  for  surprise  that  it  is  so 
seldom  achieved. 


THE  END. 


PRINTED   BY   WILLIAM    CLOWES    AND   SONS,    LIMITED, 

LONDON    AND   BECCLES.  S.  6^  //. 


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BY   THE   SAME  AUTHOR. 


SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING-FIELD. 


OPINIONS  OF  THE  PRESS. 


"  They  show  spirit  and  freshness  as  well  as  knowledge,  and  the 
author  writes  like  a  gentleman  as  well  as  like  a  sportsman." — Saturday 
Revieiv. 

"  Light  and  lively,  and  have  the  merit  of  being  dashed  off  closely 
from  the  life  with  telling  touches  of  humour.  Mr.  Watson  has  been 
fortunate,  besides,  in  finding  such  an  artist  as  Mr.  Sturgess  to  illustrate 
his  meaning  .  .  .  the  pair  go  very  smoothly  in  harness  together." — 
Times. 

"  A  remarkably  pleasant  and  interesting  volume." — Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

"  The  whole  volume  is  so  pleasantly  kindly,  so  frankly  good-humoured 
and  dashing,  as  to  leave  the  reader  with  very  agreeable  feelings." — 
Vanity  Fair. 

"  One  of  the  brightest  collections  of  hunting  sketches  we  have  ever 
read."  — Land  and  Water. 

"  Dashing  and  hearty,  free  and  fresh  in  style.  .  .  .  The  spirited 
chapters  of  Mr.  Watson  find  an  able  illustrator  in  Mr.  Sturgess." — Daily 
Telegraph. 

"  A  series  of  more  lively  hunting  sketches  have  not  been  written 
since  the  days  of  '  Jorrocks.'  .  .  .  The  illustrations  are  full  of  life  and 
vigour." — Bell's  Life. 

"  Written  in  a  pleasing  and  polished  style." — Field. 

"  Bright  and  pleasant  reading.  For  a  country  home  library  it  will 
prove  an  invaluable  addition." — County  Gentleman. 

"Mr.  Alfred  Watson's  lively  little  volume.  ...  Mr.  Sturgess's 
admirable  illustrations." — World. 

"  Mr.  Sturgess  draws  horses  better  than  almost  any  living  artist;  one 
fancies  that  one  can  hear  the  hoofs  of  some  of  them  ringing  as  they  go." 

— Standard. 


S^^ 


Webster  FamiSy  Library  of  Veterinary  Medicine 
Cummings  Schcci  of  Veterinary  l^^ledicine  at 
Tufts  University 


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