THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND 
 MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID 
 
T1PT IP 
 -1T1L JCa 
 
 OF 
 
 BY 
 
 THE 
 
 
 LONDON, 
 
 FREDERICK WARNE & C 
 BEDFORD STREET, COVENT GARDEN 
 
THE POST 
 
 AND 
 
 TH E PADDOCK 
 
 BY 
 
 THE D RU I D,f* 
 
 AUTHOR OF "SILK AND SCARLET," "SADDLE AND SIRLOIN," ETC, 
 
 o 
 
 REVISED AND RE-EDITED. 
 WITH STEEL ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 LONDON : 
 FREDERICK WARNE AND CO, 
 
 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND. 
 
R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, 
 
 BREAD STREET HILL. 
 
TO 
 
 WILLIAM COOK RUSSELL, ESQ., 
 
 OF DONCASTER, 
 
 -THIS LITTLE WORK IS DEDICATED, 
 BY HIS FRIEND, 
 
 Cfrt ,%*. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 A PORTION of the following work, which the 
 Author has here endeavoured to blend, with a 
 very large amount of new matter, into a Turf manual, 
 recently appeared, under two distinct titles, in The 
 Sporting Review. It has been his wish to make it 
 as little as possible a mere invoice of men, horses, or 
 races ; and hence, even at the risk of disturbing the 
 context, he has often gladly turned aside to pick up 
 " a bit of character " by the way. With the secret 
 lore of veterinary surgeons and book-makers he has 
 not presumed to meddle. He has simply written of 
 the Turf as he has known it for some years past, not 
 through the feverish medium of the betting, but as 
 its leading features have been brought to his mind 
 by an occasional stroll on to a racecourse on a crack 
 afternoon, through the boxes at TattersalPs, or among 
 the paddocks of a stud-farm. Although he has 
 taken the utmost pains to avoid them, by seeking 
 the best available means of information, he cannot 
 but fear that, having to deal with times and scenes 
 in so many of which he bore no part, he may have 
 
vi Preface. 
 
 fallen into error on some few points of detail ; and 
 he pleads guilty to having converted a very cele- 
 brated chestnut hunter into a " grey " one. Having 
 thus taken his " preliminary canter," it only re- 
 mains for him to thank those who have so kinily 
 favoured him with their advice and aid during its 
 " preparation," and to start his little volume on its 
 race for life. 
 
 LONDON, 
 
 May Morning, 1856. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 TO 
 
 THE SECOND EDITION. 
 
 sale of a two-thousand edition in something 
 J- under three months, and at a season of the year 
 when hunting and racing men are in anything but a 
 reading mood, is the Author's best excuse for court- 
 ing Fortune a second time. Twelve of the chapters 
 have been carefully revised, while that on the Breed- 
 ing of Hunters has not only undergone the process, 
 but has been enlarged by upwards of twenty pages. 
 Thanks to the kindness of several hunting men, a 
 majority of whom were only known to him by name, 
 he has been corrected on three or four points in the 
 latter, where the memories of his original informants 
 had been at fault, and furnished to boot with several 
 new facts and incidents within their own immediate 
 knowledge. Hence (seeing that he has also called 
 Mr. Herring junior's pencil to his aid) he trusts that 
 it can no longer be urged against his book, as it has 
 been hitherto, that the hunting-field has had by no 
 
viii Preface to the Second Edition. 
 
 means its due share of notice ; and he confidently 
 indulges the hope that in this, its race for the Derby, 
 it may show at least a /Ibs. improvement over its 
 Two Thousand form. 
 
 August ist, 1856. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 TO 
 
 THE HUNTING EDITION, 
 
 ALTHOUGH the Author does not scruple to 
 admit that his hunting experiences have been 
 very much confined to watching the cubs at play 
 near the earths on a summer's evening ; taking notes 
 of hunters at crack meets, much after the same 
 fashion as he was wont to do in " Turf Pencillings ;" 
 and seeing, by dint of short cuts, a goodly number 
 of foxes pulled down in the woodlands, he is not 
 altogether sure that this is not an advantage to his 
 readers in more ways than one. Beckford, Delme 
 Radcliffe, Apperley, Smith, Vyner, Grantley Berke- 
 ley, "Scrutator," " Cecil," "Harry Hieover," "Ge- 
 lert," "Jorrocks," and John Mills have written so 
 much and so well on the science of the sport, that 
 he has been obliged to try and hold his own line, and 
 confine himself to its gossip. Hence he has added 
 some ninety fresh pages on hunters, and the packs of 
 "Auld Lang Syne," to the present edition, for the 
 
x Preface to the Hunting Edition. 
 
 closing chapter of which he is indebted to the re- 
 nowned Dick Christian, the droppings of whose sage 
 lips he has reported pretty nearly word for word. 
 He may remark, at parting, that his book has now 
 reached its final limits as far as length is concerned ; 
 and he regrets that, being a maiden author, he was 
 not in a position to treat the hunting part of it as 
 fully in his earlier editions as he has done at this 
 third and last time of asking. The best answer he 
 can give to those epistolary critics who complain of 
 his too great " concentration," is that he hopes in due 
 time to concentrate his energies on a companion 
 sporting work. 
 
 February, i8//z, 1857. 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 TURF HISTORY . i 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 TRAINERS AND JOCKEYS 21 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 THE BETTING RING 45 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MR. KlRBY AND THE FOREIGNERS 63 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 NEWMARKET IN THE OLDEN TIME 74 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 SAM CHIFNEY , , . . . 87 
 
xii Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 GEORGE IV. 100 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 LORD DARLINGTON AND MR. THORNHILL . . . . 121 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 PRIAM AND ZINGANEE 141 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 CARDSELLERS, TOUTS, AND AUGURS 166 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 BLOOD SIRES 184 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 BLOOD MARES . 207 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 BREEDING OF HUNTERS 222 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 AULD LANG SYNE 322 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 DICK CHRISTIAN'S LECTURE , 336 
 
THE POST 
 
 AND 
 
 THE PADDOCK. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TURF HISTORY. 
 
 "And pray, what is a gentleman without his recreations?" 
 
 Old Song. 
 
 IF we swell the crowd which blocks up the Strand 
 in front of The Life office, whenever a St. Leger 
 or Derby telegraph is due, into about four millions, 
 we shall not be overstating the number of those to 
 whom " Tattersall's " is the Shibboleth, and whose 
 best sporting affections are bound up in " Ruff." It 
 is not to the United Kingdom merely that we have 
 to look for this mighty host of turfites. The roving 
 Briton needs no law, even by the Black Sea wave, to 
 remind him that the "fortuitus cespes " is never to be 
 despised. Wherever he sets foot, it is at once brought 
 into play, either for cricket or horse-racing. More 
 than a century ago, the Jamaica meetings figured 
 with especial honour in the " Racing Calendar ; " 
 and natives who have long since tutored themselves 
 into the belief, that British batters run about in the 
 sun expressly to catch the fever, have alike ceased 
 to wonder at the vigour with which our officers " set- 
 
 B 
 
2 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 to " on their Arabs beneath the rock of Gibraltar or 
 the minarets of Calcutta. The races, paper hunts, and 
 steeple-chases on the Tchernaya and at Shumla, will 
 be engraven on the retinas of Cossack, Turk, and Sar- 
 dinian for many a year to come ; and even when the 
 horrors of the first winter before Sebastopol were 
 barely over, officers were writing home about nomina- 
 tions for the Grand Military at Leamington. Both 
 our Jockey Club and Tattersall's are reproduced at 
 the Antipodes, whose race-courses, pastern-deep in 
 the erica, the heath, the wild strawberry, the rich- 
 scented dwarf-acacia, and all the countless varieties of 
 the world of flowers, contrast strangely with the 
 " hard-going," which breaks down the West Austra- 
 lians and the Wild Dayrells of the old country. The 
 abstract fame of our race-horses is also rife in hemi- 
 spheres where " Ruff" is still unknown. On this point 
 we have the positive assurance of a Transatlantic 
 Rambler, that the only artifice by which he could 
 disperse an extempore procession of street boys, and 
 pacify a Brazilian landlord, on whose shaggy pony he 
 had been compelled to confer a racing tail in his 
 travels, was, by assuring him in his most polished 
 Portuguese, that it was now, in all its bearings, " the 
 exact image of the Flying Dutchman the finest horse 
 in England." 
 
 The wonderful success of their St. Leger colts has 
 given Irishmen a still stronger bias towards the turf 
 than they had even in the days when Harkaway was 
 the champion of Goodwood and the Curragh. Still 
 steeple-chasing nestles nearest their hearts ; and the 
 remembrance of Brunette and Abd-el-Kader will be 
 green when Faugh-a-Ballagh, The Baron, and Knight 
 of St. George are forgotten. Scotland's pride has 
 been occasionally awakened by the victories of " the 
 tartan ;" but racing feeling in her has waxed fainter 
 and fainter, since Mr. Ramsay died and Lord Eglin- 
 ton retired. The finest modern races in its calendar 
 
Turf History. 3 
 
 are those between General Chasse and Inheritor at 
 Ayr, and Lanercost and Beeswing, twice in one after- 
 noon, at Kelso. Still, even then the plaided and 
 snooded spectators were anything but demonstrative : 
 the real current of their sporting being sets towards 
 " A Graham " and the slips, and Philip, Chanticleer, 
 and Zohrab sink into historical insignificance by 
 the side of Waterloo, Gilbertfield, and Hughie Gra- 
 ham. 
 
 Seven or eight of the English counties seem to care 
 as little about race-horses as they do for griffins ; 
 and perhaps the most genuine Olympic taste is to be 
 found among the quoit-loving Cumbrians, in whose 
 Carlisle race-festivals wrestling plays a very promi- 
 nent part. Although their style is so widely diffe- 
 rent to that of the Cornish men, who still hurl their 
 traditionary scorn at Devonshire, in the ballad, which 
 tells that 
 
 " Abraham Cann is not the man 
 To wrestle with Polkinghorne ;" 
 
 they are not one whit less enthusiastic in the praises 
 of Weightman, Chapman, Jackson of Kinneyside, 
 and the other " Belted Wills " of their ring ; and, in 
 fact, it is only when the afternoon is pretty far spent, 
 and his enraptured backers have borne off the prize- 
 belted victor to the booth which he specially deigns 
 to honour, that the starting-bell tinkles out its sum- 
 'mons. The Northumbrian " black diamonds " have 
 always enjoyed most being above ground, in a clean 
 face and shirt, when X. Y. Z., Beeswing, or some other 
 local star, required the stimulus of their gruff voices 
 '* in t'coop ; " and it would have been as judicious a 
 step to abuse Edwin Forrest's acting before a " Bow- 
 ery boy," as to breathe a word against " t'ould mare's" 
 fame, when one of them was within earshot. The 
 crowd which attends Manchester Races is something 
 past belief ; but they seem to go much more because 
 it is the conventional mode of passing the Whitsun- 
 
 B 2 
 
4 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 tide week, than from any constitutional interest in 
 race-horses. Before there was a railway from Liver- 
 pool to Aintree, the very mud-carts used to be 
 pressed into the service for the day, and sixpence 
 there and sixpence back was the tariff. A fiddler 
 and twelve or thirteen mates, male and female, were 
 squeezed into that narrow compass. On one occa- 
 sion (1843), we were passing along the footpath, when 
 a troop of these Bacchanals sturdily refused to alight 
 at the entrance of Liverpool ; but in an instant the 
 linch-pin was drawn, and they were all shot out. Their 
 fiddler, nothing daunted, rallied them like another 
 Tyrtaeus, and the dancing went on merrily in the 
 dusty road, till the next vehicle rudely broke the ring. 
 We doubt whether one of them had looked at a race 
 that day. 
 
 A blood-horse, on the contrary, has always been 
 the idol of Yorkshiremen, who were the first to 
 chronicle his deeds ; and attendance on his race- 
 course levees is an honest broad-bottomed custom 
 which they will never resign. Before the South 
 Yorkshire line was opened, the Sheffielders, man and 
 boy, thought nothing, year after year, of walking 
 through the night to Doncaster, taking up a good 
 position next the rails, which they never quitted from 
 ten to five, and then walking the eighteen miles 
 home again ; and till within the last four years, a 
 Devonshire man used always to make a St. Leger 
 pilgrimage both ways on foot ; and accounted for 
 this strange whim on the grounds that his " grand- 
 mother was Yorkshire." They do not care so much 
 to come if it is an open race, but love best to see a 
 Derby winner stripped to hold his own. One very 
 glorious occasion, when there was a remarkable 
 crush, " the hardware youths," on their return to the 
 station, rushed pell-mell at the carriages, and said 
 "they did not care where they went, as long as 
 they went somewhere." Accordingly they wandered 
 
Turf History. 5 
 
 to all parts of the compass ; some got to Wakefield, 
 others travelled unconcernedly off towards London, 
 and some astounded the natives of " Old Ebor" that 
 evening with their marvellous recitals of the York- 
 shire triumph of the day. Still the West Riding 
 does not raise men of the late Michael Brunton 
 stamp, with heads like a stud-book, and ready, like 
 him, with an offer, then and there, to back his opinion 
 at " six to four" on a legal point, when he chanced to 
 differ with the Richmond bench, or the clerk to the 
 magistrates during his mayoralty. It is in the North 
 and East Ridings that the racing taste of the county 
 is most especially apparent. Little oval country 
 courses, dotted with white posts, and approached by 
 wide rustic gates, through which generation after 
 generation of county families who vied with each 
 other in importing the best blood, and toasted a per- 
 fect bede-roll of winners, from Buckhunter to Catton 
 have driven proudly in their day, open on you by 
 the wayside in nooks where you least expect them. 
 A bitted, curvetting blood-yearling meets you there 
 still : but a sheeted regiment of racers, with their 
 saddle-bags on their backs, and their tiny grooms at 
 their heads, marching in Indian file, on their way to 
 a meeting, is a sight which is rare in these railway 
 days. The inns all along the Great North Road, 
 where, twenty years ago, the postillions had to sleep, 
 spur on heel, when a great division, or the Twelfth 
 of August was at hand, and the ostler muttered 
 * r Horses on" in his dreams, are nearly all merged 
 into farm-houses ; but racing recollections will hover 
 about them, albeit the bar-snuggery has become a 
 cheese-room, and Herring's St. Leger winners, which 
 once adorned their walls, are dispersed into all lands. 
 These were the texts on which the jolly landlord dis- 
 coursed without any bidding, to favoured groups by 
 the hour, till the mail bugle was heard in the dis- 
 tancq and the guard and the coachman bustled in, 
 
6 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 to deliver themselves of the news, and receive " some- 
 thing hot" in exchange. " What's won ?" was in- 
 variably the first question from April to November , 
 and Boniface as invariably remarked to the company, 
 " I told you so." For racing news, and, in fact, for 
 every other kind, guards were at that date as good as 
 a telegraph. Only in 1843, a quiet clerical friend 
 remarked to us, that he could get no rest all night 
 in one of the Lancashire mails, because the guard 
 would roar out "THE CURE," in reply to some 
 speaker, at nearly every house they passed. He 
 looked seriously into this mystic and somewhat per- 
 sonal password in the morning, and found that a 
 colt of the name had just won the Champagne 
 Stakes ; but even the satisfaction of knowing that 
 sixty miles of querists had been put out of pain, did 
 not atone for being deprived of his night's rest. 
 
 As Mr. Orton has been unable to trace the ac- 
 counts of York races further back than 1709, we 
 may presume to fix that as the year of turf memory. 
 Under Henry II.'s auspices, the fame of Epsom 
 faintly dawned, while Smithfield became resonant 
 with the hoarse yells of both spectators and jockeys, 
 as " the hackneys and charging horses" ran their 
 matches of an afternoon. Before Henry VI II.'s, or 
 rather James I.'s reign, races were not placed on a 
 regular footing. Turks, Arabs, and Barbs then began 
 to scatter their image over the land ; but their luckless 
 juniors found themselves in a rough world, if we are 
 to judge from the volume of maxims which a horse- 
 breaker of the Elizabethan age published in Norfolk. 
 " If a horse does not stand still or hezitates," he 
 observes, "then al rate him with a terrible voyce, 
 and beate him yourself with a good sticke, upon the 
 head, between the ears ; then stick him in the 
 spurring place, iii or iiii times together, with one 
 legge after another, as fast as your legges might 
 walk ; your legges must go like two bouching betles." 
 
Turf History. 7 
 
 Other racing sovereigns had not sent their studs 
 farther north than Newmarket ; but Queen Anne, 
 who, as Dean Swift wrote to Stella, " drives furiously 
 like Jehu, and is a mighty hunter like Nimrod," was 
 a firm supporter of York. Although her Pepper 
 and Mustard both failed to win back the gold cup 
 which she gave to be run for by six-year-olds (i2st. 
 each), in four-mile heats, her Star was successful, 
 after running sixteen miles, for a i^l. Plate, the 
 very afternoon before she died ; the Lord Chamber- 
 lain politely finishing second with Merlin for the 
 " Ten Guinea Stakes." One hundred and fifty-six 
 carriages were counted on Rawcliffe Ings that day ; 
 and Lord Fauconberg's coach-and-six formed only one 
 out of thirty such equipages, when the meeting was 
 removed to Knavesmire. Balancing the respective 
 merits of these princely turnouts, was long the 
 chosen pastime of the Tykes between the heats. 
 This high-born company must have been much more 
 easily pleased than their descendants ; as, although 
 one " Monsieur Dominique, musician," gave " a purse 
 of guineas for hunters," and extended their 1750 
 meeting from Monday to Saturday, there were only 
 fifteen races, including heats, and only twenty-eight 
 horses to run for them. 
 
 We do not care to inquire with Southey whether 
 hyaenas really " prowled over what is now Doncaster 
 race-ground, and green lizards, huge as crocodiles, with 
 long necks and short tails, took their pleasure on 
 Potterie Carr ;" nor to make nearly as crab-like run- 
 ning to the days when Robin Hood roamed with his 
 merry gang of outlaws through the dells of Barns- 
 dale, and looked in at Roche Abbey to taste the 
 Hatfield eels with the jolly abbot; nor to peep in 
 fancy under the cowls of the Cistercian friars, as 
 they stealthily move down Baxter Gate. We simply 
 like to think of those grave old card-parties, which 
 " The Doctor" loved one hundred years ago ; of the 
 
8 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 joyous old bells, which seemed to ring in his ear, 
 " Daniel Dove, bring Deborah home" when he drew 
 on his small-clothes on his wedding morning ; and of 
 the grand organ, " whosh pipes" as its foreign maker 
 observed, " were made for to speaK* by one of our 
 greatest English composers, and which was apostro- 
 phized by the excited curate in his sermon on its 
 opening Sunday, as, " thou divine box of sounds? 
 Nor would we forget the right jolly Corporation 
 going down to Potterie Carr (where Flying Childers 
 was nearly drowned in his foalhood) to see four-mile 
 races between galloways from 12 to 2, and then 
 returning to the platters and tankards of the Man- 
 sion House, for a misty ten hours' discussion on 
 the winners and the Pretender. This worshipful 
 body had begun to takes its pleasure with its friends 
 and faithful burgesses on the Town Moor towards 
 the close of the sixteenth century ; and had even 
 built a stand there ; but disputes ran so high, and 
 were so often settled by an appeal to the rapier, 
 that it was finally agreed, " for the preventynge of 
 sutes, quarrells, murders, and bloodshed, that may 
 ensue by the continyinninge of the same race, the 
 standes and stoopes shall be pulled upp, and imploid 
 to some better purpose." This fell decree continued 
 in force until 1703, when the racing spirit of the 
 Corporation once more rose within them. They for- 
 got how their great-grandfathers " did swear that 
 oath at Doncaster," and began to subscribe four 
 guineas annually to a Revival Plate. No return- 
 lists are extant, which tell the results of this daring 
 experiment before 1728. Even in 1751 the meeting 
 only consisted of three days, with a solitary race on 
 each. A new Grand Stand arose some seven-and- 
 twenty years later, under the auspices of the Marquis 
 of Rockingham, who won the first St. Leger ; the cry 
 of the Corporation harriers began to be heard in the 
 land, and their merry proprietors rode stoutly at their 
 
Turf History. 9 
 
 sterns, or " ate in dreams the custards of the day," till 
 they found themselves saddled with a debt of 99,7007. 
 Their estate at Rossington, whose partridge and 
 pheasant preserves had year after year been laid 
 under contribution for the Mansion House kitchen- 
 range, which was rarely allowed to cool, fetched nearly 
 that sum at the hammer ; and their less toothsome 
 and more business-like successors have turned these 
 sporting propensities to better account, and make an 
 annual seven or eight per cent, out of a 25,ooo/. race- 
 course outlay. 
 
 Although its general history is wrapped in much 
 obscurity, the turf had made no small advance when 
 one Reginald Heber published the first number of the 
 Racing Calendar, in 175 1. The preface, which is in itself 
 a literary curiosity, announces " the sacred estimation" 
 in which the publisher holds " my munificent and 
 voluntary subscribers ;" and further, promises the 
 most lucid details of cocking matches, " where and 
 who were the losers of them." The races in Hyde 
 Park had long been 'done away. Sir Philip Neil, and 
 his four Flemish mares, which were fed with Rhenish 
 wine and cheese-cakes on one of those gala days, were 
 forgotten. Snipes, unconscious of General Ogle- 
 thorpe's fowling-piece, were still drinking in the 
 marshes on the present site of Conduit-street. Wild 
 fowl w r ere almost tempted to linger at evening among 
 the bulrushes of the willow-walk of Pimlico. Islington 
 still gloried in its mineral water and its custards. 
 Roystering benchers had ceased to lose dice between 
 the boards of the Middle Temple floor; and Mrs. 
 Hudson, of Covent Garden, had not yet devised her 
 " stabling for one hundred noblemen and their horses." 
 The apprentice lads chased ducks on the Moor-le-field 
 ponds all Sunday morning ; and then paid pennies to 
 the old women as they came out of church, to tell 
 them where the text was, that they might have where- 
 withal to answer their church-going masters at dinner ; 
 
io The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 and the short, sharp bark of the fox still broke on the 
 ear of the waggoner, as he drove his lumbering wain 
 at midnight past Kensington Gardens, and stopped for 
 a draught at the Half-way House bowl. 
 
 Two or three were still living at Newmarket, who 
 could remember how the Court hurried back to 
 London at the news of the Rye House Plot ; and how 
 Nell Gwynne held her infant out of the window, as 
 her royal lover passed down the Palace Gardens to his 
 stables, and threatened to drop him if he was not 
 made a duke on the spot. Although he had, both 
 by word and gesture, roasted little Sir Christopher 
 Wren for thinking that the apartments at his Hunting 
 Palace at Newmarket were quite high enough, there 
 were none at Whitehall that he loved better. One 
 day His Majesty might be " seen among the elms of 
 St. James's Park, chatting with Dryden about poetry," 
 and on the next, " his arm was on Tom Durfey's 
 shoulder, and he would be taking a second to his 
 ' Phyllida, Phyllida,' or ' To horse, my brave boys of 
 Newmarket ! to horse !' " The races had not dege- 
 nerated since the Merrie Monarch and his minstrel 
 crew crossed that threshold for the last time. A 
 writer of Queen Anne's reign speaks of " the great 
 concourse of nobility and gentry on the Heath, all 
 biting one another as much as possible ;" and draws 
 no very flattering contrast between them and the 
 horse-coursers in Smithfield. 
 
 When Heber commenced his labours, the sport at 
 Newmarket principally consisted of 5O/. subscription 
 plates, and matches over the beacon. The Rev. Mr. 
 Goodricke and John Hutchinson, the Malton trainer, 
 had not as yet made the match which brought two- 
 year-old racing into vogue. Ancaster, Gower, and 
 Patmore, were names of renown in its lists ; and 
 " Old Q.," who had then hardly seen seven-and- 
 twenty summers, and was able to go to scale at ten 
 stone with his racing saddle, had already established 
 
Tier f History. n 
 
 his fame as one of the best gentleman-riders of the 
 day, by his perpetual matches with Mr. Buncombe. 
 " Brown-and-black cap first" was the Judge's report 
 in the Second Spring of 1757, when he rode a match 
 against the Duke of Hamilton ; but he could not 
 draw his weight to half-a-pound, and was disqualified 
 accordingly. It is difficult to conceive how one who 
 always " set-to" so well, conformed so readily to his 
 flippant era, and could, when he was only forty-two, 
 be found writing to George Selwyn at Paris, and 
 assuring him that " I like the muff you have sent me 
 much better than if it had been tigre, or any other 
 glaring colour." Muff or no muff, he stood manfully 
 by his brother-sportsman in the Regency business, 
 and lost his office as Groom of the Bedchamber in 
 consequence a slight for which a man with so many 
 friends cared but little. He scarcely missed one 
 York Meeting for half a century, and did not wholly 
 quit the turf for his bow-window in Piccadilly (where 
 Lord Campbell, when a law student, used to behold 
 him with awe), till he was verging on eighty, having 
 then owned race-horses for about sixty years ; and he 
 now rests not many paces from Tom Durfey, and 
 Beau BrummeH's poor relations, in a vault beneath 
 the communion-table of St. James's Church. 
 
 The North was the Marquis of Buckingham's 
 especial battle-ground ; and in 1759 his chestnut, 
 Whistlejacket (J. Singleton), defeated Brutus in a 
 2000 guineas match over four miles, at York. Another 
 seven years' cycle brings us to the death of Brutus's 
 jockey, Thomas Jackson, who was (as his tombstone 
 remarks) " bred up at Black Hambleton, and crowned 
 with glory at Newmarket ;" and the commencement 
 of Singleton's triumphs on the six-year-old Bay 
 Malton, for whom, in spite of Lord Rockingham's 
 offer to give 7lbs., no competitor could be found either 
 over the Flat or the Six Mile Course. Eclipse was 
 then only an obscure three-year-old, in the hands of a 
 
1 2 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 City meat salesman ; and Bay Malton had quite lost 
 his form, when this king of the chestnuts came out for 
 his two seasons, 1769-70. The establishment of the 
 St. Leger, Derby, and Oaks in 1776-80, was coeval 
 with the short and brilliant career of Highflyer, at 
 whose christening feast Charles James Fox " assisted" 
 with as much vivacity as he did in after years, at the 
 house-warming of the banker-poet of St. James's Place. 
 Dress, gambling politics, and horse-racing, all fought 
 for absolute dominion over as kind a heart as ever 
 beat. He was a macaroni of the first water, and not 
 only rejoiced in red-heeled shoes, but undertook a 
 journey from Lyons to Paris with the Earl of Carlisle, 
 for the express purpose of buying waistcoats, which 
 formed their sole theme there and back. The Sgavoir- 
 Vivre Club would have been as nothing without him, 
 and he was the first to propose that every man they 
 ruined should be allowed a 5O/. annuity, on condition 
 that he never took up a dice-box in it again, and thus 
 caused the club " to play against their own money." 
 He was, too, a heavy better, and a constant visitor 
 at Newmarket, where his portly frame was ever to be 
 seen on his hack, tearing wildly past the Judge's 
 chair, close up with the leading horses ; and until the 
 late Mr. Clark defended a disputed decision by the 
 remark that he " ought by rights to have placed a tall 
 gentleman, in a white macintosh, first," Lord George 
 Bentinck keenly pursued the precedent. Colonel 
 Hanger had not long ceased to be the bully of its coffee- 
 room, about whose portals it was his wont to lounge, 
 with a ratan, which in grim playfulness he christened 
 "THE INFANT," when Sam Chifney, senior, took his 
 rank among the first jockeys of the day. Sam wot 
 as little as they did, when he saw a pale, sharp- 
 featured stable lad of Mr. Vernon's try his weight 
 (3st. I3lbs.) for Wolf, in the May of 1783, that he was 
 the Frank Buckle for whom Fate destined " all the 
 good things at Newmarket" and elsewhere during the 
 
Turf History. 13 
 
 next half-century, and whose very whip would become 
 a coveted race-prize among the German Barons. The 
 Prince of Wales only enlivened Newmarket with his 
 presence and his practical jokes for a brief space, but 
 his love of the turf ended only with life. His Escape 
 and Selim troubles, added to the thoughtless manner 
 in which he compromised himself with the Duke of 
 Bedford, about the "first call" of Chifney, were recol- 
 lections quite bitter enough to make him adhere to 
 his '91 vow, that he would set foot on its heath no 
 more ; and even the famous North and South Matches, 
 between Hambletonian and Diamond, and Filho da 
 Puta and Sir Joshua, did not tempt him down. Ham- 
 bletonian, the greatest of the four, ceded the champion- 
 ship of the North to his stable companion Cockfighter, 
 and the name of "Darlington" began to be one of 
 dread to owners with the new century, and his Hap- 
 hazard, who set Sir Solomon, Cockfighter, Chance, 
 and every other horse north of the Trent at defiance 
 for four seasons. The racing spirit of the Tykes 
 flourished apace as the century rolled on ; and even 
 Sydney Smith, who was flung so often over his horse's 
 head into an adjacent parish that he began to consider 
 it " a great proof of liberality in a county, where every 
 one can ride as soon as they are born, that they tole- 
 rated him at all," fulminated in vain from the Malton 
 pulpit, in 1809, " against horse racing and coursing, 
 before the archbishop and sporting clergy of the 
 diocese." The most noted equestrian feats of his 
 Edinburgh Review chief, Jeffrey, seem to have come 
 off in this neighbourhood. He may or may not have 
 ridden " Peter the Cruel," but it is written of him in 
 his friend's Life, how he mounted his " little jackass" 
 in the garden at Foston-le-Clay ; and, furthermore, 
 when he went in for Malton, some one-and-twenty 
 years after this sermon, he is careful to note how he 
 " was helped up about eleven o'clock on to the dorsal 
 ridge of a tall prancing steed, decorated with orange 
 
1 4 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 ribbons, and held by attendants in the borough 
 liveries." We know not how he behaved on such occa- 
 sions, but we never walk down Rotten Row during 
 the season without feeling it a mercy that the master- 
 spirits of our land, who will persist in riding, are still 
 spared to us year after year ; and deciding that as a 
 body the bishops ride a great deal better than the great 
 laymen, and sit much firmer and shorter in the 
 stirrup. 
 
 Epsom had already conferred that prestige on Sir 
 Peter Teazle and John Bull which waxed stronger and 
 stronger in their stud days. Sir Charles Bunbury 
 confirmed the popular belief that he was the best 
 judge of a racehorse out, by winning both Derby 
 and Oaks with Eleanor. The Fitzwilliam "green" 
 achieved its second St. Leger with Orvile ; and even 
 Sancho's and Staveley's success could not prevent 
 the decay of the Hellish fortunes, nor postpone the 
 farewell carnival which he gave to royalty in what had 
 been his own, but was then merely his borrowed, house 
 at Blythe. The matches of Sancho and Pavilion were 
 the talk of clubs, coffee-rooms, and alehouses for 
 weeks, and were perhaps still more heavily betted on 
 than that between Flying Dutchman and Voltigeur ; 
 while the luck of the Duke of Grafton with the Waxy, 
 of Lord Jersey with the Phantom, of Lord Egremont 
 with the Whalebone, of Lord Exeter with the Sultan, 
 and of Mr. Watt with the Blacklock and Dick 
 Andrews blood, are still proudly dwelt on by breeders. 
 The Squire of Riddlesworth was fated to draw very 
 few of the Emilius prizes for himself ; but his memo- 
 rable connexion with the brothers Chifney in the Sam, 
 Sailor, and Shoveller days, had done enough for his 
 name. The rapid rise and fall of these brothers, when 
 Shillelah dealt them a reeling blow, and Emilius sent 
 no more Priams to the rescue ; Pierse's St. Leger 
 victories with " the Bedale horses," and the still more 
 wizard-like career of Mr. Petre, on the same ground, 
 
Turf History. 15 
 
 under the auspices of John and William Scott ; Sir 
 Mark Wood's rare brace of mares, one of whom bore 
 part in an Ascot Cup race of little less interest than 
 Zinganee's ; and Lord Westminster's Cup monopoly 
 with Touchstone, are all proud landmarks in turf his- 
 tory, until Lord George flung aside the flimsy mask 
 of " Mr. Bowe," and avowed himself the owner of Grey 
 Momus and Crucifix. 
 
 The Bentinck era comprises the seasons of 1839-45, 
 when the hoister of the "sky-blue and white cap" 
 banner ruled the destinies of his much-loved turf with 
 all the genius and energy of a Napoleon. Even West- 
 minster Hall acknowledged the polished skill with 
 which he welded together all the links of evidence in 
 the Running Rein case ; and considering how often 
 (unless rumour is a sad liar) five and six-year-olds 
 were broken twice, that they may bear a hand in two 
 and three-year-old races, it was well that he then arose 
 in his might to give such knavish times a wrench. 
 During one of those years, he had forty horses in 
 Kent's hands ; and a notion that the stock of his Bay 
 Middleton must take the turf by storm, led him into 
 playing a deep game with them, which would have 
 ruined half a dozen less clever turfites thrice over. 
 Farintosh had no less than 33 engagements in the 
 1842 calendar, for which the forfeits alone amounted 
 to 25QO/., and his loss in stakes and expenses on this 
 colt must have reached 3OOO/. No man had a more 
 eagle eye to catch the precise instant when every 
 horse was on the move, as he walked by their side, 
 flag in hand, at the starting-post ; but his riding prac- 
 tice hardly corresponded with his precepts. He was 
 ordered to be fined for not being ready, when he rode 
 his Cup Course match at Goodwood in 1844 against 
 Lord Maidstone on Larry McHale ; and many a 
 jockey-boy grinned derisively when he saw him mak- 
 ing all the running, and shaking and punishing his 
 roarer Captain Cook right furiously, long after the 
 
1 6 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 colt had hung out distress signals. The maxim of 
 " Cave de resignationibus" which an ancient head of a 
 college was wont to impress on all his departing 
 B.A.'s, loses none of its point in turf matters ; and 
 hence the troubled sea of politics brought him even 
 less rest than the constant ebb and flow of the odds 
 at Tattersall's. Mr. Disraeli has placed on record, in 
 his memorable " blue ribbon of the turf" passage, 
 how he gave a "splendid groan" in Bellamy's, when 
 he realized the bitterness of his defeat on his cherished 
 West Indian motion, and the Derby triumph of his 
 still more cherished Surplice in the colours of 
 another. 
 
 Few modern racing men have been able to keep up 
 a regular series of turf successes, year after year, with 
 the most carefully chosen blood, to say nothing of 
 cast-offs. Still, however unlucky a man may be, if he 
 does not suddenly come to a resolution to part with 
 his stud, there is certain to be some hidden yearling 
 or two-year-old in it, who would have retrieved his 
 luck. Surplice would have compensated Lord George 
 for many a defeat ; Kingston was not fated to carry 
 the " purple and orange cap" of Colonel Peel ; Gemma 
 di Vergy might have enabled " Mr. Hope" to hope on ; 
 the Duke of Richmond sold Wild Dayrell back to Mr. 
 Popham ; and the Marquis of Exeter had all but 
 parted with Stockwell and his whole stud at the Nor- 
 thampton meeting of his St. Leger year. Phryne and 
 Barbelle together have been the fruitful mothers of 
 upwards of sixty thousand pounds, in sales and stakes, 
 to the Eglinton and Cawston stud racing accounts ; 
 but perhaps no stable ever produced so many good 
 runners in one season, as Sir Joseph Hawley's in 1851. 
 Three out of the four bore part with Clincher, in the 
 clearance which the "cherry jacket" made of race 
 after race at Doncaster on the Cup day in New- 
 minster's year ; and " B. Green" kept well to the fore 
 with " his dauntless three" Beverlac, Flatcatcher, and 
 
Turf History. iy 
 
 Assault (the latter of whom was tried to be the besr; 
 throughout their two-year-old season in 1847. One 
 of the strangest gleams of luck visited Lord Glasgow, 
 when he swept away five matches and a forfeit on the 
 '52 Houghton Saturday. Lord Exeter also sent an 
 express to Burleigh in 1843, and brought Reversion 
 from his Burleigh paddock, who, fat and unprepared 
 as he was, contrived to break down Tedworth for an 
 8io/. stake, before they had reached Choak-Jade; and 
 not a man was at Doncaster in 1849, who does not 
 remember how Semi-franc was equally hastily sum- 
 moned from the Easby straw-yard, the moment it was 
 ascertained that Belus could hardly move a leg, and 
 how, after bolting all over the course, he " lost the 
 cripple," who hobbled home in the course of the after- 
 noon, long before they got to the Neatherd's house. 
 When Chatham and Attila bade each other defiance, 
 at four years old and the A.F. post, the betting was 
 merely on the point which would break down first ; 
 and the crowd and the pair were luckily put out 
 of pain, by a compromise in the presence of the 
 starter. 
 
 For actual excitement during a race, we never saw 
 anything equal the deciding heat for the Voltigeur 
 St. Leger, as the crowd pressed on to the course from 
 the bend, and left to all appearance scarcely a four- 
 yard space for the horses. Poor Bobby Hill's state of 
 mind was wondrous to mark. He had been dread- 
 fully put out, because some of the crowd had ironically 
 advised him to put some brandy into the water which 
 he had brought for his horse from Middleham ; and 
 even gone so far as to allude to the honoured cow 
 which had been specially put into the Turf Tavern 
 box, to air it over-night. Burning for revenge, he had 
 stationed himself close by the judge's chair, to hear 
 his doom, and even then his admiring friends would 
 not let him alone. " He's beat, Mr. Hill" said one of 
 them, as the vast crowd closed in behind the twain 
 
 C 
 
1 8 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 from the distance, and the roar of a hundred and fifty 
 thousand iron lungs rent the air. " Is *er beat ? is 'er 
 beat?" retorted the little man, skipping frantically 
 upwards, to obtain a good line of sight ; " Ye maurit 
 tell me ye maurit tell me ; I know him better Job's 
 a coming /" Sure enough, Job was coming ; and then 
 Bobby's yell of " /, that's right ! Which wins now f 
 Oh, my horse ! my horse /" might have been heard to 
 Bawtry, as he dashed through the crowd, butting his 
 way like a bull, to get to his favourite's head. Volti- 
 geur-spotted handkerchiefs were waving everywhere ; 
 hats were recklessly flung away into mid-air, as if 
 their owners intended to trust to a natural growth or 
 a wig for life ; and it was all poor Leadbitter could 
 do to keep order among the countless enthusiasts, 
 who would try to wipe some of the sweat off the 
 winner with their handkerchiefs, and keep it as a toilet 
 memento. 
 
 After the Dutchman's defeat on the Friday, the 
 scene was quite different. The crowd seemed to be 
 paralysed, and utterly unable to believe that such a 
 giant had fallen at last ; his backers wandered about, 
 as pale and silent as marble statues, and Marlow 
 stood near the weighing-house in a flood of tears, with 
 Lord Eglinton, as pale as ashes himself, kindly trying 
 to soothe him. The pace at which The Dutchman, 
 after getting his pull, fairly flew over the hill, was such 
 as we have never seen, either before or since ; and the 
 only animal that ever seemed to us to go so fast was 
 Officious, in the early part of an Ascot Vase race. 
 I The Richmond men became quite alive, as evening 
 drew on, to the greatness of their victory. Such a 
 strange night of jollity was never witnessed in Don- 
 caster before, and the inns were overflowing to the 
 | very kitchens. Strolling into one of the latter about 
 midnight, we espied a large group of grave clothiers ; 
 one or two of them smoking pipes, to which the mon- 
 ster cigar at the Exhibition seemed a trifle in length ; 
 
Turf History. 1 9 
 
 while others, with eyes solemnly fixed ceiling-wards, 
 insisted on waltzing with the cook and the other 
 domestics. We are bound to state that the former 
 seemed by no means to dislike this pleasing recog- 
 nition of the close of her labours. " You're going to 
 bed, aren't you ?" we said to an enthusiastic double- 
 event Richmond man ; but " Go to bed indeed ! 
 You aren't half a man ! Who'd go to bed when 
 Voltigeur's won the Leger and the Cup ?" was the 
 scornful reply. At Chester they have hardly this bed 
 option ; and he was a lucky fellow at one time who 
 did not object to being bodkin, or taking his turn be- 
 tween the sheets on alternate nights. A visitor once 
 vowed to us that he slept with his head on his great 
 coat and a door-mat in the passage for three entire 
 nights ; and we quite believe him. 
 
 Much as was said and written about the Dutchman 
 and Voltigeur, we are inclined to fancy that neither of 
 them, in their best day, were so high-class as Ted- 
 dington and West Australian ; but still, it is worthy 
 of notice that these four, and Virago, Stockwell, who 
 was taken out of training long before he was on the 
 wane, and Fandango, were foaled in seven successive 
 seasons. 
 
 We have thus traced the shifting Turf drama 
 through all its varied phases, up to the ever memo- 
 rable era of Wild Dayrell " the right horse in the 
 right place at last." Hunting men may sneer at him 
 and his class as being, one and all, in the condition of 
 the Frenchman's purchase, " who had three legs var 
 good, but de oder not qu-uite so good ;" commercial 
 men may be scandalized at the strange union of odds 
 and Consols which so often salutes their ears on 
 'Change, when one of "The Baron's" horses ^ is in the 
 betting, and ponder in private over Boz's query, 
 whether horses are really " made more lively by being 
 scratched ;" John Bright may oppose the Queen's 
 Plates in supply, and express his supreme pain and 
 
 C 2 
 
2O The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 disgust when the House adjourns in honour of the 
 Derby ; and even Stewards in high places may not 
 give the most carefully weighed decisions in the world ; 
 but, despite of all its imperfections, racing is the only 
 sport which acts like a loadstone on the masses and fur- 
 nishes the never-failing nucleus of an English holiday. 
 
 NOTE. The following is the Newmarket song, or rather recitative, 
 of Tom Durfey's, alluded to above : 
 
 "To Horse, brave boys of Newmarket ! to Horse ! 
 
 You'll lose the Match by long delaying ; 
 The Gelding just now was led over the Course ; 
 
 I think the Devil's in you for staying. 
 Run, and endeavour all to bubble the Sporters ; 
 Bets may recover all lost at the Groom Porters ; 
 Follow, follow, follow, follow, come down to the Ditch, 
 Take the odds, and then you'll be rich. 
 
 "For I'll have the brown Bay, if the blew Bonnet ride, 
 And hold a thousand pounds of his side, Sir ; 
 Dragon would scower it, but Dragon grows old ; 
 He cannot endure it, he cannot, he wonnot now run it, 
 As lately he could : 
 Age, Age, does injure the Speed, Sir. 
 
 " Now, now, now they come on, and see, 
 See the Horse lead the way still ; 
 Three lengths before at the turning of the Lands, 
 Five hundred pounds upon the Brown Bay still ; 
 Plague on the Devil ! I fear I have lost, 
 For the Dog, the Blew Bonnet has run it, 
 Plague light upon it ! 
 The wrong side of the Post ; 
 Odzounds ! was ever such Fortune ?" 
 
 Pills for Purging Melancholy, 1699. 
 
 It was with reference to this production that a 
 critic of the period remarked," You don't half know 
 our friend Tom ; he'll write a deal worse than that 
 yet." 
 
21 
 
 CHAPTER 1L 
 
 TRAINERS AND JOCKEYS. , 
 
 " There he sat, and, as I thought, expounding the law and the prophets, 
 until, on drawing a little nearer, I found he was only expatiating 
 on the merits of a brown horse. " Bracebridge Hall. 
 
 AS a trainer and judge of the horse, John Hut- 
 chinson, the breeder of Hambletonian, held the 
 very highest place among his brother Yorkshiremen 
 in the eighteenth century. His first venture on Miss 
 Western for " The Guineas" at Hambleton, when he 
 was only fifteen, included every halfpenny he pos- 
 sessed in the world ; and when he had led his chest- 
 nut charge home, and counted and jingled his win- 
 nings in his hat for minutes, he tossed the whole of it 
 on to the corn-bin, and exclaimed " There, thank 
 God I shall never want money again !" Early betting 
 success is happily a reed, which pierces a young man's 
 hand, if he leans against it ; but in this case the ejacu- 
 lation proved prophetic, and when he died at three 
 score and ten, in the November of 1806, he left a 
 very large fortune behind him. Lord Grosvenor and 
 Mr. Peregrine Wentworth were his earliest employers, 
 and his own best horses were trained on Langton 
 Wold, except during three of the summer months, 
 when they changed the venue to Hambleton. Among 
 the other well-known Northern trainers of the period 
 were Isaac Cape, of Tupgill ; Hoyle, of Ashgill ; 
 Christopher Jackson, the trainer of Matchem, and 
 John Pratt of Askrigg's horses ; Scaife, who played 
 the same good part by the Rockingham and Fitz- 
 
22 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 william studs ; George Searle, the genius of Sledmere ; 
 Tessyman, the steerer of Euryalus and the tutor of 
 Cavendish and Windleston ; Michael Mason, of Ham- 
 bleton House ; John Lowther, alias " Black Jack," of 
 Bramham Moor ; Charles Dawson, of Silvio Hall, 
 who was well called " The famous old Jockey ;" Earl 
 Strathmore's John Lonsdale ; and William Collisson, 
 who latterly managed for Mr. James Croft of Middle- 
 ham. 
 
 This last-named trainer, who did so much in con- 
 junction with Harry Edwards (to whose care the 
 horses were confided for a short time after his death) 
 for the "white and red sleeves" of Lord Glasgow, 
 died in 1828 ; and Collisson was killed shortly before 
 by a fall from a colt he was breaking for him. John 
 and William Scott were brought up in his stables ; 
 and when Mr. Houldsworth bought Filho da Puta, 
 after the St. Leger of 1815, he recommended him to 
 transplant the brothers, as trainer and rider, to the 
 pleasant glades of Sherwood Forest. Croft was for 
 many years a sad invalid, which prevented him from 
 taking in one-third of the horses which were pressed 
 on him, and he did not even live to see his forty- 
 second birthday. His great Belle-Isle contemporary 
 and senior, William Pierse, lived till 1839, an( i ^ s 
 span would in all probability have been lengthened 
 far beyond 75 years if he had not had a dose 
 of colchicum sent him neat by the carelessness of a 
 dispenser. Robson, the veritable Emperor of New- 
 market trainers, did not die till 1838, but he had then 
 retired ten years from the profession, and his retire- 
 ment had been marked by the presentation of a 
 splendid piece of subscription plate from the first 
 turfites of the day. Robinson, the late Joe Rogers, 
 Starling, and a host of other Newmarket celebrities, 
 were brought up in his stables, and he led seven Derby 
 winners, including Waxy, Whalebone, Whisker, and 
 Emilius, back to scale, besides ten Oaks winners. 
 
Trainers and Jockeys. 23 
 
 He was considered so facile princeps in his art, that 
 his example was not only potent enough to alter 
 the barbarous training hours at Newmarket, but also 
 to shame not a few out of the " perpetual motion" 
 system to which their charges had hitherto been 
 doomed. His father, who trained Highflyer, came 
 originally from the North to the Valley, or rather 
 Eight-mile Bottom (now sacred to University hack 
 races), where he trained for the Duke of Bedford, 
 Mr. Shafto, &c., until the offer of a large salary in- 
 duced him to become a private trainer at Kingston 
 House, Newmarket, at which place he died in 1797. 
 Robson, who had been up to that date training for 
 Sir F. Poole, at Lewes, then took to the business, 
 and made sixty thousand pounds out of it. Between 
 1828-38 he lived at Exning ; but he loved Kingston 
 House best, and the last six months of his life were 
 spent there. 
 
 Training is no longer the occult science it was con- 
 sidered when Robson's word was law, and Tiny Ed- 
 wards's horses could " be known in a crowd ;" and 
 jockey lads, when their too solid flesh refuses to melt 
 below 8st. 7lbs. bring their horses quite as " fit" to 
 the post as the oldest trainers. " The Duke's" mode 
 of keeping his cavalry horses in form was to allot 
 them two hours a day for doing six miles out and in 
 from Brussels, eight miles of which was done at a 
 sharp trot, and the rest in a walk; and even with 
 seven out of ten racers, it is almost equally plain sail- 
 ing ; but when a delicate-constitutioned one comes to 
 hand, mere routine fails, and the union of great care, 
 experience, and mind (we use the word advisedly) 
 can alone bring him fit to the post. Still, as a general 
 rule, talent among the clever trainers is very equal, 
 and it rarely happens that when one of them 
 has failed to make a horse run, things are made any 
 better by a change of stables ; and in fact, if the 
 first trainer has had the animal since it was a year 
 
2 \. The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 ling, they are often made worse. We seldom hear of 
 a horse going blind during his training, although 
 Phantom, Sweetmeat, and several other good horses 
 have done so when it was over ; and, on the whole, 
 blindness is not nearly so prevalent in England as in 
 Ireland, which is attributed by some to the much 
 dryer climate. Robson's system, like that advocated 
 by Sir Charles Bunbury, was far from being a severe 
 one; and his horses were full of vigour and muscle, 
 and by no means low in flesh. The Chifneys pro- 
 fessed to be great admirers of his regime, but their 
 practice and profession hardly corresponded ; still 
 their brilliant luck with horses whose constitutions 
 would permit of their being always sent along, pro- 
 cured them many copyists. Their rivals represented 
 them as giving Priam eight-mile sweats ; whereas 
 they affirmed that owing to his being a narrow, light- 
 fleshed horse, he was seldom sweated more than three 
 miles once a week, and without his clothes. John 
 Day, senior, was one of the admirers of strong sweats, 
 more especially in his treatment of two-year-olds ; 
 but his notions became very much modified of late 
 years. His son John never held them, and stands up 
 so stoutly for strong walking exercise, as to furnish 
 grounds for a joke to the effect that Pyrrhus the First 
 did nothing else in the 25 days between the New- 
 market Stakes and the Derby. William Day is 
 popularly supposed to adopt the severe system ; but 
 be this as it may, we do not think that we ever saw 
 a horse brought to the post in more perfect form than 
 Lord of the Isles was for the Two Thousand. 
 "Grandfather Day" used to train at Houghton Down, 
 where he was right ably assisted by his fine old Saxon 
 dame, who knew as much about condition and farriery 
 (strangles was her great subject) put together, as the 
 ablest member of the Royal Veterinary College. The 
 late Miss Ann Richards, of Ashdown Park memory, 
 used to leave her coach and six, and head the beaters 
 
Trainers and Jockeys. 25 
 
 all day " with her kirtle up to her knee ;" but she was 
 not one whit more knowing and enthusiastic about 
 " long-tails" than Mrs. 1 Day was about thorough- 
 breds. Her family maxims, moreover, were quite as 
 sound as her stable ones, and she impressed " The 
 Whole Duty of Man" on her children, if our memory 
 serves us, in the following wholesome couplet : 
 
 " Fear thy God, speak evil of none, 
 Stick to the truth, and don't be done." 
 
 Training as a system is very much lighter than 
 it was years ago ; and heavy-clothed sweats are fast 
 going out of fashion, except a horse is fearfully 
 gross ; and then, if his legs are shaky, he is trained as 
 a forlorn hope " through the muzzle." Tiny Edwards 
 used to say that he was obliged to keep Glencoe per- 
 petually at it, or " he would have got above himself, 
 and everyone else into the bargain." Springy Jack 
 was also one of the fat kine, inside and out ; and so 
 was Voltigeur till his heart was so broken in his 
 match preparation that his form wholly left him, 
 and he could not even be coaxed to feed in John 
 Scott's hands. Nancy was an odd instance of a 
 mare who required no work beyond a few half-speed 
 gallops ; and it was always a peculiarity of Phryne's 
 stock and the Venisons that they ran in flesh, 
 while the Bay Middletons generally bore drawing 
 fine. To convert flesh into muscle is, however, the 
 great problem. Railway facilities enable trainers to 
 keep their horses always at it in public; and the 
 Parr-Osborne principle suits the majority of hardy 
 ones. Perhaps the most extraordinary specimens of 
 modern hard-workers are Clothworker, who won 30 
 out of 59 races in two seasons ; Rataplan, who owns 
 to 38 out of 62 in the same time ; while Fisherman 
 scored 23 out of his 34 three-year-old, and Lord 
 Alford 9 out of his 24 two-year-old races, or nearly 
 three times as many as Crucifix ran. The training- 
 
26 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 ground at Danebury looks as if it would never be hard 
 in any weather, though the Day lot has, we believe, 
 had to gallop occasionally on a down beyond Stock- 
 bridge, in a very dry season ; while John Scott's two- 
 mile tan gallop on Langton Wold renders him equally 
 independent all summer. This gallop was only laid 
 down in 1850 ; and there has never been any other in 
 Yorkshire, except the temporary one which William 
 Scott used in Mr. Wyse's big field at Malton, when he 
 and William Gates trained Sir Tatton Sykes for the 
 St. Leger. The " Thellusson Trust" crops now wave 
 upon the little Pigburn racecourse, where John Scott 
 was wont to adjourn with his lot, during the dry 
 season, for nearly twenty years, and billet them, horse 
 and boy, among three or four of the Brodsworth 
 farmers. Newminster, who had good reason to re- 
 member one of these mornings, did not return to Pig- 
 burn after his York defeat ; but no less than seven of 
 John Scott's St. Leger winners, beginning with Mar- 
 grave, had the finishing touches put to them there, 
 and made their six-mile pilgrimages to Doncaster to 
 run their trials, when the Newmarket of the North 
 was still deep in dreams, and not a soul except the 
 landlord of the Salutation and the corporation steward 
 was cognizant of their stealthy approach, in the grey 
 morning mist, down the Carr House lane. Frank 
 Butler was invariably on the trial horse ; and Earl 
 Derby used to slip down after the House was up, by 
 the mail train to Swinton with a friend, and form one 
 of the select group at the post. Ilsley, Holywell, 
 Hambleton, Hungerford, and Richmond, have " good- 
 going," and are superior in this respect to Hednesford, 
 Delamere Forest, and Langton Wolds. The Low 
 Moor at Middleham is often dry, being upon a rocky 
 substratum, and hence, in summer the strings exercise 
 on the High Moor, whose surface is composed of 
 beautiful mossy peat. A lofty pillar stands at one 
 end of it, to mark the spot where Bay Bolton was 
 
Trainers and Jockeys. 2 7 
 
 honourably buried in his shoes ; but the grave of 
 "Amato, 1843," in Sir Gilbert Heathcote's grounds, 
 near Epsom, with its little iron railing, surmounted by 
 many a gilded fleur-de-lis, shaded by lofty chestnut 
 trees, and within earshot of the yearly thunderclap 
 which tells that another name has been entered on the 
 Derby scroll, by the side of the " Velocipede pony," 
 is the neatest specimen of a horse's tomb which the 
 Turf can press upon Mr. Ruskin's notice. 
 
 Still we look upon Hambleton as the best training 
 ground in Yorkshire, and Ilsley as the best in the 
 South. Some of the Newmarket trainers fancy the 
 Bury or the Warren Hills, while as many are faithful 
 to the heath. The best country tan-gallop we know 
 of is Wadlow's, at Stanton, which is about one-and-a- 
 quarter miles round, and beautifully situated at the 
 foot of Lizzard Wood, a favourite meet in the Albrigh- 
 ton Hunt. No wonder that old Alonzo, our ten-year- 
 old Turf Nestor, was always ready for his spring work. 
 Veteran trainers have told us that to their eyes not 
 two horses in a thousand gallop exactly alike, and we 
 have known them detect their old pupils years after 
 by the test (one great mystery was revealed this way) 
 when their names have been changed, and every other 
 trace of identity purposely concealed ; while a great 
 Boston character, on the contrary, once sold his mare 
 at Horncastle in the morning, and bought her again 
 in cool blood at night for a new one ! The severest 
 four-mile gallop we ever saw was that which Fobert 
 sent The Dutchman, at Doncaster, on the Wednesday 
 morning before he was beaten for the Cup : and we 
 doubt whether the Town Moor was ever witness to a 
 stronger one, except on the Sunday, that Peirse, out 
 of a sort of bravado, gave Reveller and " the Bedale 
 horses" their last spin, amid a perfect cloud of dust, 
 when scarcely another trainer dared even to let his lot 
 canter. It is not, however, every trainer who has, like 
 Fobert, a piece of genuine sound stuff to work upon. 
 
28 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Occasionally trainers take a whim into their heads 
 not to let the public see their horses gallop, and 
 bring them out at most uncouth hours. Two Derby 
 horses at Newmarket, and two in the provinces, have 
 been trained on this principle during the last few years, 
 and no good has come of it. The system is, in fact, 
 as the Scotch say, " no canny," and the old trainers 
 shake their heads ominously when they hear of it. 
 
 There was a good deal of crossing and unfair work 
 among the inferior jockeys in old times, which would 
 be more heavily noticed now, and in fact it was often 
 thought rather a good joke than otherwise. Captain 
 O'Kelly, whose definition of "the black-legged fra- 
 ternity " took such a very sweeping range, expressed 
 his sentiments on the point at the Abingdon race 
 ordinary (1775), when the terms of a 300 guineas 
 match were being adjusted, and he was requested to 
 stand half. " No," he roared ; " but if the match had 
 been made cross and jostle, as I proposed, I would 
 have stood all the money ; and by the powers, I'd 
 have brought a spalpeen from Newmarket, no higher 
 than a twopenny loaf, that should have driven his 
 lordship's horse into the furzes, and kept him there for 
 three weeks." Some odd scenes of this kind came off 
 on the race-courses of Yorkshire, whose calendar of 
 native jockeys begins with the Heseltines, William 
 and Robert. This pair flourished in the saddle nearly 
 a hundred years before their descendants, "Lanty" 
 (who never recovered The Shadow's defeat at Croxton 
 Park), and his nephew " Bob," who was clever and 
 dodgy as ever in his last race (1851) with Lord Card- 
 ross, were enrolled among the Hambletonians. Samuel 
 Jefferson and Matchem Timms, the rider of Buck- 
 hunter, were then great rivals ; and Fields, Rose, 
 Garnett, Charles Dawson, Cade, John Singleton, and 
 three other Singletons, Thomas Jackson, Kirton, and 
 the one-eyed Leonard Jewison, succeeded. The latter, 
 who had a very long awkward seat, had more songs 
 
Trainers and Jockeys. 29 
 
 made in his honour than even Kirton, who won more 
 gold cups than any of them, and in spite of heavy 
 " wasting," not only for the saddle but in a Chancery 
 suit, lived till he was 93. Pratt, who died within three 
 months of him at Newmarket, was only four years his 
 junior ; and Eclipse-Oakley, Dick Goodisson, South, 
 and Dennis Fitzpatrick were among his principal 
 Heath opponents. Besides these, there was William 
 Peirse, who in early life played Tom Thumb at a 
 strolling theatre, and was picked up as he ran wild 
 about the Turk's Head yard, at Newcastle, by a rela- 
 tive of Lord Darlington's, whose horses he trained 
 and rode for many years. Among the other " Nor- 
 thern lights " were John Shepherd, who was reputed 
 the best four-mile man of the day, and was trans- 
 planted from Yorkshire to Newmarket to ride for 
 Lord Foley ; Ben Smith, who was so terrible in the all- 
 black of Lord Strathmore ; William Clift, the pet of 
 Wentworth, and the only man who perhaps ever had 
 pensions from tfyree different masters, or won the 
 Derby " in a trot " ; and John Jackson, whom Peirse 
 considered the best .horseman of his time bar old 
 Chifney, and whose only bitter recollections of his fine 
 career were his misunderstanding about Marion with 
 Mr. Watt, and his dreary anxious wait for the chaise, 
 which never came, when he was retailed to ride Filho 
 da Puta for his matcji at Newmarket. Thomas Goodis- 
 son, the son of the great " Dick," was put up in his 
 place on that day, and Jackson had the consolation of 
 hearing that he had been beaten by a head. Goodisson 
 was, however, by no means inferior to the Northaller- 
 ton crack. The Duke of York was especially partial 
 to him, and he won perhaps more races at Newmarket, 
 on the Duke of Grafton's horses, than any man of his 
 time. Robert Johnson, who gave up riding at the 
 close of 1836, and handed over Beeswing (whose sire, 
 Dr. Syntax, he had ridden with wonderful success) 
 into Cartwright's hands, was the last of the old school 
 
30 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 of Yorkshire jockeys. We saw the old man in his 
 greatest glory in 1841, when he succeeded Mr. Orde on 
 the table in the garden behind the Newcastle Grand 
 Stand, to return thanks for the toast of "Robert 
 Johnson and the old mare" which the latter, though 
 he must then have been verging on seventy, proposed 
 with even more than his wonted fire, and wondrous 
 facility of language. Nature never fashioned a more 
 universal genius than the Laird of Nunnykirk. He 
 was not only a " full man " upon almost every sub- 
 ject, but when his tongtie was once loosened with a 
 glass of wine, he fairly made the air crackle round 
 you with his sparkling eloquence and dexterous 
 arguments. The late Professor Buckland, who was 
 starring it at the British Association at Newcastle 
 in 1837, rue d the day that ever he tried to run the rig 
 on him about geology, at a private dinner party, quite 
 as much as he did his encounter with Sir William Fol- 
 lett, at Drayton Manor, anent Robert Stephenson's 
 great theory of telling whether a line of railway could 
 pay, by putting your ear to the rails, and marking the 
 " wear and tear " vibrations. Of his dress and person 
 he was utterly careless. We have seen him travel 
 second class with his grooms to a race meeting, and 
 when one of the latter remarked that his hat was 
 shabby, he immediately rejoined that he'd change with 
 him, which he did on the spot, to the no small chagrin 
 of the lad, who got decidedly the worst of the bargain. 
 On another occasion, he was dining out before going 
 to a race ball, where he was to be the Steward ; and 
 on the host asking him, when they had concluded a 
 long argument about the wild imagery of Ossian, 
 if he wished to dress, he merely drew his fingers 
 through his hair, and went off in his plaid trousers 
 and blue coat, and gloveless, just as he had been 
 all day, and fairly danced the band and the ladies 
 weary. 
 
 But we have wandered away from the jockeys. Will 
 
Trainers and Jockeys. 3 1 
 
 Arnull was only a year senior to Sam Chifney, but he 
 died nearly nineteen years before him. Lord G. H. 
 Cavendish, and Lord Exeter were his principal mas- 
 ters ; the " narrow blue stripes " of the latter having 
 been confided to his keeping when his lordship and 
 Robinson differed about a match between Recruit and 
 Goshawk. He was a good jockey, but not quite first- 
 class ; and shortly before he retired and became trainer 
 to Lord Lichfield, he had grown rather idle in the 
 sweaters. His luck at Epsom commenced when he 
 was nineteen ; and he won two more Derbies, the last 
 of which was in 1814 on Blucher. When the real 
 Field Marshal, who had won as much renown with the 
 dice in St. James's-street as he had done in the pre- 
 ceding year at the baths of Pyrmont, visited New- 
 market that summer, after his Cambridge fete, Will 
 had the honour of mounting this son of Waxy in his 
 presence, and of showing his namesake, in a strong 
 canter over the D. M., " how fields were won " in the 
 preceding May. He was a merry little fellow, up to 
 all kinds of queer games ; and many were the tricks of 
 which he was both the soul and the butt. This made 
 him a little suspicious, and he never forgot how the 
 " Black Dwarf of Newmarket " was sent him, quite 
 drunk, in a wine hamper, and roused the whole house 
 with his midnight yells from the cellar. Once, too, 
 when Mr. Gully's colt "Hokee Pokee " walked into 
 Newmarket, he demanded the name from the lad, and 
 then went off to Sam Day in no very good temper, to 
 tell him that the stable-lad had been poking his im- 
 pudence at him ; and Sam could scarcely persuade 
 him that he had been told the right name. 
 
 Without any disrespect to the memories of Thomas 
 Goodisson and Will Arnull, whose selection from the 
 mass of Northern and Southern jockeys to ride Filho 
 da Puta and Sir Joshua in their great 1816 match is 
 their best epitaph, we may safely aver that a more 
 brilliant quartet of horsemen than Buckle, Chifney, 
 
5 1 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Robinson, and Harry Edwards, never issued side 
 by side from the Ditch stables. Yorkshire was 
 " Old Harry's" great battle-field, where the unvarying 
 brilliancy and power of his set-to and finishes not 
 only conferred no small lustre on the Fitzwilliam, 
 Kelburne, and Houldsworth jackets, but terrified 
 Tommy Lye at times to that degree, that he con- 
 fided to a friend he would " quite as lieve ride 
 against Sattan" The club wits were not wide of the 
 mark when they said of Buckle, in 1823, 
 
 " For, trained to the turf, he still stands quite alone, 
 And a pair of such Btickles was never yet known " 
 
 as a faultless build for horseback, and forty years of 
 incessant practice, had combined to make him perfec- 
 tion. When he sent over his whip by the hands of 
 Mr. Tattersall, in 1826, to become a challenge prize 
 in Germany, he was enabled to add, by way of com- 
 mentary, that he had " won five Derbies, two St. 
 LegerSy nine Oaks, and nearly all the good things at 
 Newmarket" In his sixty-first year he wasted to 
 7st. 81bs. for his favourite Rough Robin ; but though 
 he required no "walks" latterly, he kept himself in 
 such fine form, by constantly riding from Peterboro' 
 to Newmarket and back, a distance of ninety-two 
 miles, to say nothing of trials, that he was quite the 
 first four-mile man of his day. Sir Tatton Sykes and 
 Mr. Osbaldeston were his only compeers in horseback 
 endurance ; and, strange to say, he rode his last race 
 on one side of the Ditch only an hour before Mr. 
 Osbaldeston completed his great 200 mile match on 
 the other. With his saddle strapped for the last time 
 round his white cape coat, " the governor" cantered 
 off to cheer " The Squire," as he finished on Tranby, 
 but made some remark to the effect, " that though he 
 was fifteen years older, he could ride further and 
 longer ;" and was very nearly challenged to the proof. 
 " To ride for twenty-five days, or till either of them 
 
Trainers and Jockeys. 33 
 
 dropped," were the terms which the public proposed 
 for the match. Buckle's great forte was to wait, and 
 then set-to on an idle horse ; and he seemed to finish 
 to the very last quite as strong over the Beacon 
 Course as the T.M.M. One of the most dashing mile 
 races he ever rode was on Orlando against Dennis 
 Fitzpatrick on Gaoler. Each jockey did his utmost 
 to " get a pull," but was jealously determined not to 
 let his opponent get one, and the consequence was, 
 that the race was run from end to end, and Gaoler 
 just stayed the longest. He delighted in a little 
 gammon, and even if he had been slipped at the post, 
 as he was on Mortimer, nothing could induce him to 
 hurry ; but, as then, he crept up the sixty yards inch 
 by inch, and just caught Slim in the last two strides. 
 It was this peculiar game of patience which made the 
 Northern jockeys of that day such especial admirers 
 of him and Robinson ; and it may be safely said of 
 these two and Chifney (whom they never loved after 
 his dashing debut at York in 1805), that when they 
 had once won their race, they never gave it away 
 again, as second-raters are apt to do. There was no 
 jealousy whatever between the three, except during 
 the race itself; and, in fact, Sam very often begged 
 them as a favour to take some of his best mounts off 
 his hands. 
 
 For some time after Robinson first came out, Sam 
 only thought him a moderate rider ; but at the close 
 of a Newmarket Meeting, as he rode home from the 
 Heath with his brother, he broke out suddenly, after 
 a long thoughtful pause, with " By-the-bye, Will, have 
 you observed Robinson this week ?" " Yes, indeed I have" 
 was Will's answer, whose eye never failed to catch in 
 an instant anything brilliant, or the reverse, about 
 man or horse. " Well!" was the low rejoinder, "kfi 
 taken to riding like the very devil" Will did not fail to 
 report to Robinson what Sam had been saying of him, 
 and he at once confessed that he was quite right, and 
 
 D 
 
34 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 that a more decided style of riding seemed to have 
 flashed on him all at once. In point of judgment and 
 knowledge of pace, there was little to choose between 
 them ; but while the one was more powerful, the other 
 was more elegant in his manner of finishing, and did 
 not sit so much back in his set-to. Sam's mode of 
 drawing his horse together, and then bringing it with 
 his unique and tremendous rush of nearly half a length 
 in the last three or four strides, was a picturesque 
 contrast to the exquisitely neat "short head," by 
 which Robinson used to nail his opponents on the 
 post, and send Will Arnull especially growling back 
 to scale with a maledictory " Done me again, Jim, by 
 a head!' In the one case you saw the whole, and 
 wondered at the fearful concentration of man and 
 horse power with which the deed was done ; in the 
 other, you wondered how it could be done so instan- 
 taneously that you hardly saw it. Poor little Pavis 
 used often to tell about a match which he rode with 
 Sam, and had his orders " never to leave him." Ac- 
 cordingly away they cantered, Pavis lying about a 
 length in front, and Sam lobbing behind. When they 
 had got about two hundred yards, Sam slowly ejacu- 
 lated, " W ell, young-un,arn't you going to make running? 
 Better take a cigar at once'.' Pavis took no heed, but 
 cantered on till about a hundred yards from the chair, 
 when he took his mare by the head, and dug the 
 spurs into her. " There was Clark's box close at hand, 
 and I thought I'd slipped him;' he used to add. " No, 
 no / might as well try to slip Old Nick : he was at my 
 neck like a flash of lightning before I had got two 
 strides ; my mare swerved and cannoned him, but he 
 pulled his horse straight, and just beat me a head on the 
 post. They tried to make out he had crossed me, but I 
 wouldn't have it, and stuck to it he had fairly outridden 
 me he's a rum-un to ride against, is Sam'' To see 
 Sam and Robinson eyeing each other's horses before 
 a great race or match, and to hear their dry, quaint 
 
Trainers and Jockeys. 35 
 
 mode of chaffing each other on the point, was no 
 slight treat ; and when they were once off, Sam 
 would invariably keep lurching behind so directly in 
 his leader's track, that with all his glances, he could 
 hardly tell on which side the challenge would come, 
 till he found him suddenly at his quarters. The 
 Chifney rush became so famed, and was so dangerous 
 an experiment in the hands of any one who was not a 
 consummate judge of exactly what was left in a horse, 
 that scores of races have been thrown away by a 
 feeble imitation of it. Frank Butler had many a hint 
 and lesson from his uncle, but his style was principally 
 modelled upon Robinson's, and was more neat and 
 less powerful than " uncle Sam's." In his earlier days, 
 he was apt to wait off too long, and not steal up to 
 his leaders till the race became too severe for him 
 to get on to terms with them. Still as a tryer and 
 rider of a racehorse, he had but very few equals ; 
 and he was alike suited whether he was winning 
 a match or lying away on a roarer, a class of horse 
 on which he was pre-eminent. It was one of his 
 especial whims to be last out of the Epsom paddock, 
 and he was equally tenacious on this point " for luck," 
 whether he was on little Daniel O'Rourke or West 
 Australian. 
 
 Frank Buckle weighed in for the last time on 
 November ;th, 1831, and before that time next year, 
 the antique quaintly-carved tomb of " Samuel Buckle, 
 merchant, Peterborough," which forms such a massive 
 object on the south side of the beautiful churchyard 
 of Long Orton, had received its new tenant. There 
 are scarcely three jockeys in the saddle now, who wit- 
 nessed the energetic set-to of that Pocket Hercules, 
 who had nothing large about him but his heart and 
 his aquiline nose. Sam Chifney, Scott, Pavis, Wheat- 
 ley, Will Arnull, Conolly, Frank Boyce, Nelson, and 
 George Edwards, all of whom rode with him in his last 
 Oaks, are in their graves, and the shade of George 
 
 D 2 
 
36 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Guelph would be puzzled to find even one of those 
 Edwardses whose numbers struck him as inexhaus- 
 tible. In his day there was no more consummate 
 judge of pace than Tommy Lye ; and perhaps he won 
 more two-mile heat races than any man who was ever 
 out, from this cause, as the lads on the three-year-olds 
 had not a tithe of the practice of the modern juniors, 
 and were sure to " come back" to him in the second 
 and third heats. It it came to four or five heats, 
 Tommy was absolutely invincible. His attitude, when 
 he was finishing, was not perhaps all that could be 
 desired ; waggish writers, in fact, have spoken of him 
 as " two feet of silk, and three feet of boots and wash- 
 leather, in convulsions;" and he also looked any- 
 thing but picturesque as he rode the odd-tempered 
 Italian and Zoroaster one or two races in their sheets ; 
 but he was wonderfully powerful for his size, and his 
 energy on the Duke of Cleveland's monster Sampson, 
 in two four-mile races in one day, quite astonished 
 us. 
 
 Jockeys generally increase about two stone, or a 
 stone-and-a-half in the winter ; but with medicine and 
 vigorous wasting, they can come to their weight again, 
 without fever, in three weeks. They have been known 
 during the summer to get off 7lbs., or even more on an 
 emergency, in twenty-four hours, and Nat is said to 
 have managed 4|lbs. for Vulcan in two ! If they are 
 at all weak from illness, they will lose much more in 
 their "walks" than they have calculated on ; and we 
 remember seeing one of them bring a 3lb. saddle to 
 the weighing-house, and have to borrow a 5lb. one 
 from this cause. The old generation of jockeys were, 
 taking them throughout, taller and larger boned than 
 the present ; and as some of the weights in many of 
 the great races were much lower, the wasting process 
 was still more severe. It was a piteous spectacle to 
 see Sam Chifney, who always went to work after every 
 one else, stepping with his ears down, and a grim per- 
 
Trainers and Jockeys. 3 7 
 
 spiring visage, along the Dullingham-road, and boiling 
 himself by ounces to 8st 2lb. for an Ascot Cup mount. 
 Poor Frank Butler did not look one whit more happy 
 on these occasions, and wasting even to 8st. /Ibs. was 
 the very curse of the latter ten years of his jockey life, 
 though out of compliment to Scott and Songstress he 
 drew 8st. 4lbs. at the last Ascot Meeting he ever 
 attended. The weather is most favourable, and as 
 time also hangs rather heavily on their hands in those 
 Berkshire villages, jockeys ride their very lowest 
 weights at Ascot, and look like him, as if they had 
 been quite determined " to take off their flesh and sit 
 in their bones." William Scott during his last mile 
 up the North-road elm avenue on a St. Leger morn- 
 ing, with a sprig of heather he had gathered near 
 Rossington Bridge jauntily stuck in his wide-awake, 
 and his merry joke and nod to his friends as he swung 
 past them to his lodgings on the Hall Cross Hill, 
 where, on the last occasion, Parson Dennis was in 
 attendance to " valet him," invested this species of fire- 
 torture with a much more pleasant hue. Jacques tried 
 himself more heavily in this respect than any man we 
 ever met with ; as, after leaving the profession for 
 some years, and growing corpulent as a licensed 
 victualler, he resumed the sweaters, and wasted him- 
 self down to a ghastly 7st. 3lb. shadow, in order to 
 don the white and blue for his old master, Colonel 
 Cradock, when " Sim" could not ride the weight. 
 George Nelson did not ride for some years before his 
 death, but lived on his Royal pension, and commanded 
 "The Fleet" of roysterers in Tickhill. Stephenson and 
 Dockeray made themselves into walking skeletons, till 
 increasing weight obliged them to leave the saddle ; 
 and so did Heseltine, Holmes, and George Francis, 
 the latter of whom used to waste to half-ounces. 
 Wells, in 1853, fainted on a Malton race morning 
 when trying to get down to 5st. 5lbs., while Job Mar- 
 son (who, like poor Bill Scott, always would have the 
 
38 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 rails), after not declaring so low for more than eleven 
 years, astonished the Richmond people in 1855 by 
 scaieing only /st. /Ibs. for his winning mount on Skir- 
 misher. How Sam Day, after so many years of ease, 
 contrived to waste for nearly two seasons, and get so 
 low as 8st. 4lbs. in 1846, was a wonderful instance of 
 family loyalty and self-denial ; and he seemed to 
 suffer much less than his brother John, from such 
 " a pig-skin revival," though he had been far longer 
 estranged from the sweaters. If, as a general thing, 
 a jockey is asked to ride much below his weight, 
 he had better not ride at all, as a fair second-class 
 veteran, not so many years since, lost the last rem- 
 nant of his riding practice by trying too low a weight, 
 and being palpably beaten from sheer exhaustion when 
 he tried to finish, although he had declared some 3lbs. 
 over. 
 
 The heavy punishment in which Clift and some of 
 the old school delighted, is very much gone out, and 
 if a foolish lad punishes his beaten horse unnecessarily, 
 he is pretty certain to hear of it in the newspapers. 
 Salaries and expenses are a matter of private arrange- 
 ment between a jockey and his masters, the former 
 varying according to the reputation of the receiver, 
 and the order in which each claims him. In other 
 cases 3/. for a mount and 5/. for a win are the regular 
 fees, though the latter is always the compliment for a 
 mount in the St. Leger, Derby, and Oaks, and ten 
 guineas was the Liverpool steeplechase tariff, when 
 that event was in its zenith. Robinson had a ioo/. 
 special retainer for the Hyllus and Charles XII. 1000 
 guinea a side match, in which, as well as that for the 
 same amount between Teddington and Mountain 
 Deer, Job Marson's luck was in the ascendant. He 
 also generally received ioo/. when he went down 
 special from Newmarket to ride in any of the three 
 great races, success in which usually insures a 3OO/. 
 or 5OO/. cheque from the owner, besides presents from 
 
Trainers and Jockeys. 39 
 
 other winners varying in amount from a 5OO/. note to 
 a box of cigars, or a Belcher-tie. Jim can most truly 
 say to himself, in General Evans's version of the Cri- 
 mean telegraph, " Remember Doiub" as Captain Dow- 
 biggin sent him a iooo/. note in an envelope as he 
 was sitting at tea at Mr. Herring's house in Doncaster, 
 the evening he won the St. Leger on Matilda. His 
 host, to whose pencil the turf owes so much, was then 
 only in the dawn of his splendid fame as a delineator 
 of the horse, and had not long quitted the coach- 
 box for the studio. He was, we believe, entirely 
 self-taught, although he may have occasionally 
 watched Mr. Abraham Cooper at work, in whose 
 well-known battle-piece he is said to figure as 
 Saladin. Towards the close of his life he rather 
 faltered in his allegiance to the Turf, and wrought 
 with wonderful art upon some Ironsides stabling their 
 horses in a cathedral, and countless peaceful farm- 
 yard groups. 
 
 Taking jockeyship as an art, it has not gone back, 
 and it would be strange if it had, seeing the immense 
 practice which boys get in handicaps all over the 
 country. In fact, many clever young jocks will have 
 ridden as many races by the time they are five-and- 
 twenty, as their less lucky coach-travelling predeces- 
 sors had done when they were five-and-thirty. Mr. 
 Waterton used to say that it was his practice with the 
 Badsworth, which gave him " such a fine hand on a 
 crocodile ;" and hence it is no wonder that strong lads 
 are soon qualified to ride anything, even if it have the 
 size of a dromedary, or the mouth of a zebra, and 
 finish with such brilliancy and precision. They know 
 their work so well, that whereas twenty years ago it 
 was ten to one on the man if he was finishing along- 
 side a youngster, the former now finds it almost im- 
 possible to come the old trick of gammoning Young 
 Artful that the race is over, and then when he sees 
 him beginning to take it easy, catching him with a 
 
43 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 rush on the post. Lads, however promising, were 
 held quite cheap then by their seniors ; but in the case 
 of Sam Rogers, a regular row was raised after one race 
 at Newmarket, because some of his craft had kindly 
 sung out some directions to him. The nicest ridden 
 finish we ever remember was one between Old Eng- 
 land (J. Day, junior), Plaudit (Marson), and Prologue 
 (Robinson), over the Abingdon Mile, in the Houghton 
 of 1844. Old England made his own running all the 
 way, and the set-to between him and the two others, 
 who challenged him right and left in the cords, after 
 he had got his pull, was a perfect masterpiece. Young 
 John, as fine a horseman, both for power, seat, and 
 science, as ever held a bridle, certainly never rode 
 better ; and those who remember the half-sluggish 
 half-roguish way in which Old England invariably 
 finished, can appreciate the exquisite mouth-touching 
 he required at such a crisis, when the two were at his 
 neck in the last stride. Besides this bout, Harry 
 Edwards outriding Bill Scott over Knavesmire on the 
 two-year-old Naworth, or Connolly over the Beacon, 
 on Don John ; Chappie making running from end to 
 end, and winning a head on Lugwardine at Chelten- 
 ham, or waiting on Landgrave for the Cambridgeshire 
 with such agonizing patience, till the last two strides, 
 that we felt that if we had possessed the aim of a 
 Camelford, we could have gladly taken a pistol out 
 and shot the reins in two ; Robinson doing Sam 
 Darling by a short head on Barrier at Ascot, or rally- 
 ing Rathmines home for the Audley End ; Sam 
 Rogers holding ungenerous brutes like Vasa and 
 Walmer, hard in front, and just coaxing them, after 
 being beaten once or twice in a race, to make one 
 more effort ; Sim Templeman getting his pull, and 
 coming again on the post with the British Yeoman for 
 the Doncaster Two-year-old Stakes, or lifting Catha- 
 rina home first by about a nose for the Manchester 
 Cup ; Alfred Day nursing the sinking Dervish at 
 
Trainers and Jockeys. 4 1 
 
 Goodwood, or screwing in Vivandiere half a head in 
 front of " Frank" on Iris ; Frank Butler biding his time 
 with Daniel O'Rourke in the Derby, or bringing up 
 Ninnyhammer in the last few strides at Ascot ; Nat 
 just getting up on Typee at Nottingham, and Meaux 
 at York ; Bartholomew, when he was quite a lad, 
 riding a long rally home against Sam Day for the Port 
 on Jericho, or getting Porto Rico through for the 
 Prendergast ; Marlow winning the Suburban on 
 Elthiron, and the Port on Knight of Avenel, within 
 a week of each other; and Job Marson squeezing 
 Voltigeur's last effort out of him for txie Spring 
 Handicap at York, or taking the rails from Ellington 
 (Aldcroft), and all but napping him (as he did 
 Nat with Sir Rowland Trenchard) by a flash of 
 lightning rush on the post ; are some of the finest 
 " bits" we remember to have seen among the senior 
 jockeys. 
 
 Trial riding is very lucrative, especially at New- 
 market, and at Middleham too, when Lord Glasgow 
 goes over to have a taste of his whole stud. Many 
 first-rate jockeys have not the art of "tasting" a horse 
 in private ; but, although Bill Scott could be hardly 
 called a first-class jockey for ten or twelve years before 
 his death, he was always A I as a tryer, and Frank 
 Butler was nearly as good. Jockeys who have salaries 
 ride trials gratis for those particular masters, but are 
 generally put on at 25/. or 5O/. to o if it is a great race. 
 The different phases of the art, such as cutting down 
 the field from end to end, or getting in front to stop 
 the pace ; making the running up to a certain point, 
 and then letting yourself be headed and coming again ; 
 lying away from your horses if you are on one which 
 cannot be hurried, and creeping up inch by inch to 
 them before the pace becomes too great ; all require 
 an intuitive knowledge of pace, which not one jockey 
 in thirty thoroughly attains to. The great test of a 
 jockey's nerve is his coolness when he finds himself 
 
42 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 among the leaders for the Derby, about two distances 
 from home. If they have an ounce of flurry in their 
 composition, that moment will bring it out ; and we 
 could not help, in the course of the last few years, as 
 we stood there, remarking how an able rising jockey, 
 of whom we expected better things, seemed " all 
 abroad," while the future winner was pulling his horse 
 together, and waiting on him, as coolly as if he was in 
 his own armchair. Leading jockeys have generally 
 fancied one horse above all the rest of their mounts. 
 Buckle swore by Violante, Chifney by Selim, Scott by 
 Velocipede, and Butler by " The West." Robinson 
 went for Bay Middleton, and John Day, sen., for 
 Crucifix. Nat, we have heard, inclined to Glencoe ; 
 " Job" was faithful to Teddington ; and " Sim," despite 
 of Cossack and Surplice, cannot be weaned from the 
 memory of the elegant chestnut Battledore, whom he 
 rode for his good old master, Sir Thomas Stanley, in 
 the only race he ever ran. 
 
 No profession is more trying in every way ; as, in- 
 dependent of the strong " walks" and appetite priva- 
 tions which they have to undergo, it takes years to 
 retrieve even a false suspicion, much less a false step. 
 There are not only a number of morbid minds among 
 racing men, who will undertake to prove that hardly a 
 race yet was run on the square ; but every spectator, 
 gentle or simple, who loses his money, feels himself 
 quite competent to criticise the style in which the pet 
 of his fancy has been ridden, and to pronounce the 
 most sweeping judgments accordingly. Jockeys can 
 survive this sort of criticism ; but owners and trainers 
 are often unduly fretful, and too anxious to find an 
 excuse at some person's expense, rather than their 
 own or their horses', for being beaten. They forget 
 that trial-horses, however great their form may once 
 have been, cannot keep it for ever ; the jockey is at 
 once made the scapegoat ; and although the owner 
 
Trainers and Jockeys. 43 
 
 may continue to give him a retainer, he seems to think 
 nothing of taking him off entirely, or superseding 
 him suddenly in all the good mounts in the middle 
 of a season, with as little justice, and as little regard 
 to his feelings, as if he were a mere silken puppet. 
 Oddly enough, vicars always tell you that if there is 
 one thing more difficult of attainment than another, it 
 is the getting rid of a curate they don't like. Jockeys 
 are just in the opposite difficulty, as whatever sort of 
 treatment they may experience, Jockey Club law does 
 not acknowledge such a process as " sending in a 
 jacket." Its argument is, that masters bring forward 
 jockeys from boyhood, and that therefore it would be 
 hard that the latter should be able to give them up 
 just when their services become most valuable, or 
 make masters bid against each other for a priority of 
 call. This may be true as regards boys up to a cer- 
 tain age ; but it falls very hard upon the elder jockeys 
 in two ways : If a master unhandsomely persists in 
 retaining his call, and yet refuses to let them have 
 mounts for his stable, the fact of their not riding for 
 the stable naturally becomes noticed to their detri- 
 ment ; and they are also in a great measure hindered 
 from making engagements with other stables, who 
 can never feel sure that they will be able to get them, 
 seeing that this dormant prior claim is pretty certain 
 to be interposed for a single race or so, just when they 
 most want them. The principle on which the Jockey 
 Club goes is no doubt correct, as jockeys would have 
 sore secret temptations to give up masters perpetually, 
 if a rival stable did not care what it paid to have a 
 Derby crack ridden ; but if masters are of necessity 
 allowed this power over jockeys, they have no right 
 to abuse it. If they force a senior jockey to retain 
 their jacket, they are bound to give him their mounts, 
 and not to indirectly cast a slur on him, and prevent 
 him from seeking for more considerate masters else- 
 
44 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 where. The jacket and the confidence are, in com- 
 mon justice inseparable : both should be given, and 
 taken away together. The proper mode, as it seems 
 to us, would be that if either party want to get off an 
 engagement, they should not be able to do so unless 
 by a six months' notice, commencing from the Mon- 
 day in the Craven week. 
 
45 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE BETTING RING.* 
 " Dost trifle in the ring ?" Old Play. 
 
 T T OWEVER strange and interesting may be the 
 11 "subjects" which delight the eyes of the St. 
 George's student in the Anatomical Museum, the 
 lover of morbid anatomy may find an equally rich 
 field of contemplation if he will walk a little farther down 
 the lane at Tattersall's, and scan the alphabet of faces 
 who congregate in and round the Rooms. He will 
 there, amid that hoarse and multifarious miscellany 
 of men, and under exteriors which are at times unpro- 
 mising, find as clear cutting wits as ever nestled in a 
 brain-pan, and he can only regret, as he sits on that 
 strange " bench of the grand-world school," that men 
 who were framed for better things should be so uni- 
 tarian in their devotion to the odds. The room which 
 bears silent witness to these ceaseless flirtations with 
 the goddess Fortune, is 45 by 28 feet, and capable of 
 holding about 400 persons. In the middle of it is a 
 sort of circular counter, round which and at the fire- 
 place the business is principally transacted ; but in 
 summer the room is nearly deserted, and speculation 
 adjourns on to the steps and green, outside, and holds 
 communication with its less favoured votaries through 
 
 * It must be remembered that the period 1841-1856 produced won- 
 derful changes in betting. 
 
46 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 the iron bars of the gate. Although the numbers 
 fluctuate considerably, the Room has about as many 
 subscribers as it can hold : a great increase on the 
 number who adjourned there in Attila's year, from 
 their small trysting-place lower down the lane. Can- 
 didates are elected by the committee of the Room ; 
 they must find a nominator and a seconder, and the 
 names must be up for at least a month. Above the 
 fireplace at the end of the room is a painting of 
 Eclipse, from the easel of the grandfather of the 
 present Mr. Garrard (whose oxydized silver race-cups 
 are not favourably regarded by country race-goers, 
 from the belief that " they must be old uns"), re- 
 presenting the immortal chestnut when he ruminated 
 near Epsom in his proud stud-days. A brood-mare 
 and Young Eclipse are also there, with two or three 
 of the series of great winners ; and a couple of en- 
 gravings of Lord George Bentinck, and race-lists and 
 notices fastened up near the fireplace, complete the 
 tout ensemble of still life within. The left side- 
 windows open out on to the terrace green, where the 
 Ring, weather permitting, stand or saunter about on 
 field days ; and masters of hounds, &c., earlier in the 
 morning, try the paces of a hack they may have been 
 eyeing in some of the 120 stalls in the adjacent yard ; 
 but on off days it is more associated in our minds 
 with a walnut-tree, an Alderney cow, and a pail. 
 Such are the leading features of the great betting 
 mart, whose quotations are to racing men what those 
 of Mark Lane are to the farmer, Lloyd's to the 
 insurer, the Stock Exchange to the broker, or Green- 
 wich Time to the horologist. 
 
 The whole system of betting has undergone a 
 complete change in the last sixty years. Betting 
 between one and the field was the fashion which 
 Turf speculation assumed in the days of powder and 
 periwigs, and Ogden (the only betting man who was 
 ever admitted to the Club at Newmarket), Davis, 
 
The Betting Ring. 47 
 
 Holland, Dearden, Kettle, Bickham, and Watts, ruled 
 on the Turf 'Change. With Jem Bland, Jerry Cloves, 
 Myers (an ex-butler), Richards (the Leicester stock- 
 inger), Mat Milton, Tommy Swan of Bedale (who 
 never took or laid but one bet on a Sunday), Highton, 
 Holliday, Gully, Justice, Crockford,* Briscoe, Crutch 
 Robinson, Ridsdale, Frank Richardson, and Bob 
 Steward, &c., the art of book-making arose, and 
 henceforward what had been more of a pastime 
 among owners, who would back their horses for a 
 rattler when the humour took them, and not shrink 
 from having 5<DOO/. to 6ooo/. on a single match, dege- 
 nerated into a science. All the above, with the ex- 
 ception of two, have passed away, like the mastodons, 
 never to return. Nature must have broken the mould 
 in which she formed the crafty Robinson, as he leant 
 on his crutch, with his back against the outer wall of 
 the Newmarket Betting-Rooms, and, with his know- 
 ing quiet leer and one hand in his pocket, argued 
 
 * Mr. Timbs, in his admirable "Curiosities of London," gives the 
 following sketch of this Turf Baring of his day. " Crockford," he says, 
 "started in life as a fishmonger, in the old bulk shop next door to 
 Temple Bar Without, which he quitted for play in St. James's. He 
 began by taking Walier's old club-house, where he set up a hazard 
 bank, and won a great deal of money ; he then separated from his 
 partner, who had a bad year and failed. Crockford now removed to 
 St. James's Street, had a good year, and built in 1827, the magnificent 
 club-house which bore his name ; the decorations alone are said to have 
 cost him 94,ooo/. The election of the club members was vested in a 
 committee, the house appointments were superb, and Ude was engaged 
 as maitre d? hotel. ' Crockford's ' now became the high fashion. Card 
 tables were regularly placed, and whist was played occasionally ; but 
 the aim, end, and final cause of the whole was the hazard bank, at. 
 which the proprietor took his nightly stand prepared for all comers : 
 this speculation was eminently successful. During several years every- 
 thing that anybody had to lose or cared to risk, was swallowed up ; and 
 Crockford became a millionaire. He retired in 1840, 'much as an 
 Indian chief retires from a hunting country, when there is not game 
 enough left for his tribe ;' and the club then tottered to its fall. After 
 Crockford's death in 1844, the lease of the club-house (thirty-two 
 years, rent I4OO/.) was sold for 29007." 
 
48 The Post and the Paddock, 
 
 about Staley Bridge Radicals with the then Lord 
 Stanley, or offered to " lay agin Plenipo." 
 
 The two Elands, Joe and "Facetious Jemmy," 
 were equally odd hands. Epsom had fired up the 
 latter's desire to come on to the Turf, and he de- 
 scended from his coachman's box at Hedley for that 
 purpose, and sported his "noble lord" hat, white 
 cords, deep bass voice, and vulgar dialect on it for 
 the first time about 1812. He did not trouble it 
 much after he " dropped his sugar" on Shillelah, 
 though that contretemps did not completely knock him 
 out of time. His acute rough expressions, such as 
 "niver coomed a-nigh" and so on, as well as his 
 long nose and white flabby cheeks, made him a 
 man of mark even before he got enough, by laying 
 all round, to set up a mansion in Piccadilly. Joe, his 
 brother, had originally been a postboy, and rose from 
 thence to be a stable-keeper in Great Wardour- 
 street ; but the great hit of his life was his successful 
 farming of turnpike-gates, at which he was supposed 
 to have made about 25,ooo/. " Ludlow Bond" was 
 not so coarse in his style as this/^r nobile fratrum, 
 but ambitious and vain to the last degree. It was the 
 knowledge of this latter quality on the part of Ludlow's 
 real owners, " The Yorkshire Blacksmith and Co.," 
 which induced them to put him forward as the osten- 
 sible owner, as no one would back a horse which was 
 known to be theirs. Bond liked the notoriety which 
 this nominal ownership conferred on him, and was no 
 doubt a mere puppet, without exactly knowing who 
 pulled the strings. Discreditable as the affair was, he 
 always gloried in it ; in fact, he was so determined 
 not to let the memory of it die out, that he christened 
 a yearling which he bought from the Duke of Grafton, 
 "Ludlow Junior." At times he appeared on the 
 Heath with a grey hack, and went by the nickname of 
 "Death on the Pale Horse;" and, shortly after the 
 Doncaster outburst, he came on in a handsome 
 
The Betting Ring. 49 
 
 travelling carriage, with two livery servants in tne 
 rumble. 
 
 Mr. Gully, although he did great execution at the 
 Corner in Andover's year, might be styled a mere fancy 
 bettor subsequently, and as a judge of racing and the 
 points of a horse combined, he had scarcely a peer 
 among his own or the younger generation of turfites. 
 His fame at the Corner was at its zenith about the year 
 1830, when he was a betting partner with Ridsdale. 
 Rumour averred that they won 35,ooo/. on Margrave 
 for the St. Leger, and 5O,ooo/. on St. Giles for the 
 Derby ; and it was in consequence of a dispute as to 
 the Margrave winnings, which is rather too com- 
 plicated for explanation here, that the Siamese link 
 between them was so abruptly dissolved. Their joint 
 books also showed a balance of 8o,ooo/., if Red Rover 
 could only have brought Priam to grief for the Derby. 
 There was a joke, too, soon after this time, that Mr. 
 Gully and his friend Justice descended on to Chel- 
 tenham, and so completely cleaned out the local Ring 
 there, that the two did not even think it worth while 
 stopping for the second race-day. One of the lesser 
 lights was found wandering moodily about the Ring 
 on that day, and remarked to a sympathizer that he 
 was " looking for the few half-crowns which that 
 Gully and Justice had condescended to leave." Lord 
 George Bentinck was allowed to be the cleverest 
 man that the Turf ever had, but the loss of 27,ooo/. in 
 one year was the crucible in which he learnt his ex- 
 perience. Strictly speaking, he was a very fancy 
 bettor ; and he would do what hardly a man alive 
 dared do make a book to any amount, and back 
 horses as well. 
 
 The Ring par excellence might, in 1856, consist of 
 some four hundred persons, of whom about a hundred 
 were looked upon as emphatically " safe men," and 
 nearly half of the twenty score belonged to the " Man- 
 chester Division," who congregate under the Bush, or 
 
 E 
 
jO The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 at the Post Office Hotel. The betting on the Derby 
 is at least five time as great as that on the St. Leger, 
 and while about eight safe men "go" every year on 
 the former, the two or three who have received a heavy 
 blow on the latter, frequently, by the grace of their 
 creditors, contrive to hobble on till the Cesarewitch is 
 past. This race, as well as the Cambridgeshire, for 
 which men in despair seem to play double or quits, 
 has countless victims ; and among those who "went" 
 in '55, was one who, whenever he heard long odds 
 laid, would offer five points less, and clench it with 
 " You'd better take it ; you know my money's good"- 
 a strange conceit which almost rose to the dignity of 
 a Ring proverb. There are sometimes some strange 
 chases between creditors and debtors at Doncaster. 
 We have seen the latter driving off madly to the sta- 
 tion, after the St. Leger, to catch the first train either 
 way ; and the former, when they have failed to dis- 
 cover the much wished for face in the enclosure, fol- 
 lowing in hot haste. On one occasion a couple met on 
 the platform, and the erring one immediately dashed 
 into the Crimpsall Meadows, and pointed at his best 
 pace for the Conisboro' Woods, where he stayed till 
 nightfall, and then sent an emissary to pay his lodg- 
 ings and bring his carpet-bag. His pursuer expressed 
 strong fears that both of them \vould be "roarers" for 
 life, in consequence of the severity of the pace up to 
 the Don, where he was beaten off; and remarked that 
 if the horse could only have gone half as well as his 
 backer, he would have won in a trot. 
 
 A suicide in consequence of Ring-losses is seldom 
 heard of now, but the stricken deer generally levants 
 without coming near the rooms, or else arrives with a 
 forehead of brass, receives all he can, "retires" with 
 his gains without offering to pay, and nods gaily to 
 his creditors when he next meets them. A pan of 
 charcoal or the Serpentine is about the last thing he 
 would dream of ; and even Scrope Davis, who cut his 
 
The Betting Ring. 5 1 
 
 throat regularly after every Newmarket Meeting, till 
 the doctors knew exactly when to expect a sewing-up 
 summons, can find no imitators. About two hundred 
 men may be said to have had books in 1856, and 
 Messrs. Ives, Harry Hill, Warrington, Morris, Aaron 
 Worsley, G. Desboro', Hargreaves, Ishmael Fisher, 
 G. Reed, Howard, Onslow, Brabazon, Barber, F. Swin- 
 dells, Sargent, Adkins, Kimpton, C. Snewing, Sher- 
 wood, Justice, Portman, Whitbourne, Saxon, W. 
 Robinson, Jackson (" the coming man"), Pedley, G. 
 Hill, Bennett, &c., were popularly supposed to make 
 them at all figures, from io,ooo/. to iooo/. Foal books 
 have gone out of fashion, but Mr. Harry Hill had a 
 JO,ooo/. yearling one, and laid his hundred, seventy- 
 five, or fifty to one odds, according as he fancied the 
 pedigree of the yearling he laid against. To speak, 
 however, with any degree of accuracy as to book- 
 making would baffle even " The Wise Woman," as the 
 strangest canards are always floating about as to 
 " books" and winnings, and it is morally impossible to 
 separate what a man does on commission from what 
 he achieves on his own account Some few confine 
 themselves to commission business, the recognised re- 
 muneration for which is five per cent., the commis- 
 sioner taking all the risk. Old Michael Brunton used 
 to boast that he visited Doncaster (whose High-street 
 is always so redolent of toffy and " mellow peers") for 
 sixty-one years in succession, and made a grand 
 wind-up with Voltigeur's Cup day. Perhaps Frank 
 Garner, a farmer in Surrey, was one of the eldest 
 Ring-men we had, and visited Newmarket in 1855 
 for his fifty-first consecutive season ; and Fred Swin- 
 dells one of the cleverest. When the " Swindells' 
 attack" once opens on a horse it rarely fails to be his 
 crack of doom. A meteor occasionally starts up for 
 a season or two. Nine or ten years ago, two rose 
 almost together, and it was said that if Nottingham 
 had won the Cesarewitch, or Sting the Cambridge - 
 
 E 2 
 
5 2 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 shire, they would have hit the Ring twice over for about 
 i3O,ooo/. One of them was just as careless about the 
 odds he laid, as the latest constellation was upon re- 
 ceiving days ; and if the last-named had trusted to 
 the infallible inspiration which used to come over him 
 as the flag dropped, he might have won any sum. Cob- 
 nut and Adine were two of his great triumphs, and 
 he won 5OOO/. about Daniel O'Rourke, though he had 
 not pencilled a bet till the horses went up to start. The 
 gentlemen of the Ring hang very much together when 
 they fancy a horse. Flying Dutchman's and West 
 Australian's were decidedly a gentleman's year, and 
 so many of them were within the mystic circle which 
 knew of the great Fyfield trial, that Teddington cost 
 the ring something like I5O,OOO/. Voltigeur's, on the 
 contrary, was a gentleman-gentlemen's" year, as 
 valets and coachmen won so immensely ; while Little 
 Wonder's and Merry Monarch's were the greatest tri- 
 umphs the Ring has known. Mr. Howard might almost 
 have broken it with Virago, for the triple events of 
 the Great Metropolitan, Suburban, and Chester Cup, 
 if he had not taken two ten thousand books at Shrews- 
 bury about them, before the year was out ; and thus 
 given an inkling of the secret to the Chester handi- 
 capper, though certainly not to the world. The 
 match which has of late years produced the heaviest 
 post-betting was that at Newmarket, in 1849, between 
 Beehunter and Clincher, which appropriately ended in 
 a dead-heat. The term "hedging" has been quite 
 superseded by " laying off;" and we had, in fact, 
 quite forgotten it till we saw it stated in the papers 
 by a clergyman, who did not answer a question on 
 doctrine as the Bishop of Exeter exactly liked, that 
 his lordship addressed him to this effect : " You are 
 hedging, Sir ; you are hedging /" Enoug-i was heard 
 about it in 1843, when old John Day took such liber- 
 ties with Gaper for the Derby, and Lord George made 
 him cry out " Peccavi" to some purpose when he got 
 
The Betting Ring. 53 
 
 him writhing in his vice. This is, in fact, the most 
 memorable instance of " hedging" on record, and the 
 ancient rupture between the parties lent it no small 
 flavour. " Honest John," from a firm conviction that 
 the horse could not stay, had offered I5,ooo/. to ioo/., 
 and 10,000 to IOO/. against him, as he was journeying 
 by rail to Newmarket, and was snapped imme- 
 diately by a " commissioner," who happened to be 
 in the carriage. Lord George's faith in his bay 
 continued unabated to the last, and he took i6,ooo/. 
 to 20OO/. about him not many hours before the race ; 
 and hence Day was glad to come to terms with him, 
 and lost 3OOO/. by meddling with the " sky-blue," 
 though his balance on the race was a favourable one. 
 
 Since the abolition of the betting-houses, which 
 dealt an immense blow to the Ring by cutting off the 
 supplies which dribbled in through them from all parts 
 of the country, and so found their way to the Corner, 
 Mr. Davis has occupied a much less prominent part 
 in the eyes of the public ; and he has, in fact, almost 
 ceased to make a Derby book, and confines himself to 
 post-betting. He has made one so high as ioo,ooo/., 
 but now he scarcely pencils a Derby bet till a fort- 
 night before the race. He says with truth that he 
 has lost all his money on the Derby and Oaks, while 
 on the St. Leger and at post-betting he is uniformly 
 lucky, and a great advocate for the abolition of the 
 P. P. system. We believe that he made his first bet 
 of half-a-crown at the Silver Cup in Cromer Street, 
 Gray's Inn Road, about 1840, when he was in 
 Mr. Cubitt's employ. A long time elapsed before 
 he entered any public betting-rooms, but he simply 
 joined the noisy outer circle ; laying generally 
 a point or two more than were attainable inside. 
 When he began to be a man of mark, this difference 
 was soon taken copious advantage of, and in self-de- 
 fence he went within. His first heavy hit is said to 
 have been for i2,ooo/. over The Cur for the Cesare- 
 
54 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 witch. Hotspur's not winning the Derby made a dif- 
 ference to him of some 50,000?, and Barbarian's failure, 
 of nearly twice that sum. The Londoners also backed 
 Voltigeur to such an extent with him, that nearly 
 4O,ooo/. was paid over his list-counter alone about 
 "the lusty Richmond stallion." He was also hit 
 heavily in Teddington's year, and the I5,ooo/. cheque 
 which he sent Mr. Greville the morning after the race, 
 stamped him at once as a very mine of Peru. Mrs. 
 Taft and Truth were great pulls for him that autumn, 
 and the public set the joint gain at 45,ooo/. After 
 his winter Derby deposits came in, he was supposed to 
 have entered on his 1852 campaign with !3O,ooo/. at 
 the Westminster Bank (whose heads would, as the 
 story ran, rise to accommodate him at any hour of the 
 night ! ); but on this as well as every other calculation, 
 "be the same more or less" must be the conveyancing 
 motto ever present to the reader's mind. He re- 
 sembled, in fact, Captain O'Kelly in his zenith, who, 
 when he was asked, after taking a heavy bet, where 
 his estates lay, responded that, " By the powers, I hev 
 the map o' them about me," and produced a perfect 
 roll of Bank Notes ; or the old miser near Doncaster, 
 who went to a great land sale in his filthy rags, and a 
 hayband round his waist, and astounded the auc- 
 tioneer, who wondered where the deposit was to come 
 from, by holding up a ioo,ooo/. Bank Note (one of the 
 few ever made), and saying, " Here's the cock ; I've got 
 the old hen at home ! " Henceforward, the tide of ill- 
 luck always flowed steadily against him at Epsom. 
 Daniel O'Rourke is said to have cost him 3O,ooo/., as 
 he had been duly "got " at looto I. Catherine Hayes 
 cost him about the same, and West Australian 48,ooo/., 
 of which 3O,ooo/. went in a cheque to Mr. Bowes. At 
 Chester, in 1852, he was fairly beset by the infatuated 
 backers of Nancy; and there he stood, while they 
 almost fought who should first thrust their 5/. notes 
 into his hands, and see themselves pencilled down at 
 
The Betting Ring. 55 
 
 55 to O. Although, perhaps, not abstractedly a great 
 judge of a horse, he had a capital eye for finding out 
 when they are in trouble, and keeps betting on till 
 they are some twenty yards from the post ; and if it is 
 a very near thing, after they are past it. Teddington 
 was a horse he never liked to be against, after the 
 Derby ; but he was, perhaps, more disposed to back 
 riders than horses, and is very liberal with them at 
 times. Fordham, or " the kid," as he always terms 
 him, is his favourite, and he very frequently declined 
 to lay against the horse he was to ride ; and other men 
 in the Ring had a like fancy for always backing Quin- 
 ton. His constant habit has been to come to Tatter- 
 sail's after the Derby, however great his losses, and 
 pay on the Monday, instead of waiting till the con- 
 ventional settling Tuesday : and while his lists were 
 in force, he returned every night from Newmarket to 
 attend to them, and provide the needful for paying 
 next day. In fact, all his dealings have been based 
 on the " broadstone of honour," and conducted with a 
 business-like precision such as we may almost in vain 
 hope to see again. One of his rules was never to sub- 
 scribe to a handicap, as he would be pestered to death 
 with applications if ^he did. We never remember 
 his nerve failing but once, and that was when Bon 
 Mot won the Liverpool Cup. He was just beginning 
 to fire heavily into this strange 3000 guinea impostor, 
 when he found himself compelled, in consequence of a 
 nervous head-ache, to close his book and sit down, 
 and, as luck would have it, he won 3OOO/., instead of 
 losing nearly twice that amount. His philosophy was 
 reported to have been most severely tested in 1850, 
 when he had laid very heavily against Canezou for 
 the Goodwood Cup. On that day, Cariboo was de- 
 clared to start merely to make the running for Canezou ; 
 but he went so well that it was all Charlton could do 
 to pull him up in front of the Stand, in order that 
 Butler might win with the mare. 
 
56 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 With the history of the Tattersall's battalion we 
 have nothing to do. Recruits come in from every 
 rank and everyplace; but the Ring is not in so healthy 
 a state as it was a few years ago, and far below what it 
 was in the ten year cycle before that ; and welchers, 
 regardless of pumps and mobbing, begin to wax rife 
 in the land. Those who have seen members of this 
 fraternity hauled out of the Ring at Doncaster, when 
 even the massive Leadbitter, the only man whom we 
 ever saw really manage a crowd, was no tower of 
 strength to them, can judge of the full meaning of the 
 expression " falling into the hands of man," especially 
 when the Timour Mammon is in the question. The 
 rush on the helpless Stock Exchange intruder, when 
 the pack are cheered on by the " Who wants to buy 
 five hundred per cents" tallyho, is merciful in com- 
 parison. At Newmarket the thing is done more neatly, 
 as about forty couple of groom boys resolve themselves 
 into merry harriers for the nonce ; and if the hare is 
 started half way across the fiat, his coat and waistcoat 
 are fluttering wildly in the breeze, his handkerchief has 
 been made a leading rope of, and his hat a foot-ball, 
 long before he finds a peaceful hermitage in some 
 back alley of the town. The Catterick clerk of the 
 course, hearing of the motley crowd which had shown 
 at Lincoln, is said to have considerately provided some 
 stout labourers and a tar-barrel for the special benefit 
 of the welchers, at one of his meetings. Although we 
 cannot coincide in his views, it is still to be regretted 
 that there is not some conventional ordeal to which 
 such gentlemen could be consigned ; and we often 
 think how one Moore, the unworthy incumbent of 
 the " Suffolk Curacy," dedicated a book to " Duke 
 Humphrey," and was then entirely lost sight of by 
 his old college friends, till one of them espied him 
 slung up in " the basket!' for not paying his bets at a 
 cock-pit. 
 
 Savage as they may be at the sight of a welcher, 
 
The Betting Ring. 5 7 
 
 the Ring men, on the whole, are creatures of fine 
 rough impulse, whenever it is called forth. Few men 
 are more charitable if a case of real distress comes 
 within their notice ; and we have known one of them 
 pay 2OO/. to take a man, who had no claim whatever 
 on him, out of jail. It was also only recently, too, 
 that a bookmaker received a letter from a breeder, 
 soon after a colt he had purchased from him had won 
 a race, to remind him that a ioo/. contingency had 
 become due. His answer was simply to the effect 
 that there must be some mistake, as he had promised 
 ISO/., not ioo/., if ever the colt won; and a cheque 
 for the larger sum was duly enclosed. Ring jokes are 
 unique, and those who have heard the popular stories 
 of "the gilded watch," and "Jenny bring the sledge- 
 hammer," well know what quaint humour can make 
 out of slender materials. They delight in perverting 
 names : II Penseroso, Gemma di Vergy, La Fille Mai 
 Gardee, and Springy Jack, became Bill Spencer the 
 Grocer, Jemmy the Virgin, The Female Guard, and 
 Elastic John ; and Graeculus Esuriens seemed to have 
 his nomenclature altered as each Monday came round 
 Paying in copper was a freak which delighted every 
 one amazingly, except the victim, who went scouring 
 off in a cab up to his knees in the baser metal ; and 
 so did the sundry speculations as to the height of The 
 Trapp-er, who was such a giant, that young John Day 
 solemnly assured Nat, as he was saddling him for the 
 St. Leger, that he " had ordered a pair of steps in the 
 town," and that they would be there directly ; and 
 added, for his comfort, that Dr. O'Toole would " very 
 probably run slap under him if he got in front." The 
 whereabouts of The Reiver, the long or short O in 
 Iliona, and all such strange things, were also worked 
 in their turn. Their " chaff" is unrivalled ; but their 
 retorts are perhaps rather rough and ready than neat. 
 We never heard any of them rival the poacher who 
 sauced the late Bishop of Carlisle (when he told him 
 
5 8 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 who he was, and asked him how he dared to pick up 
 a hare on the Rose Castle grounds before his very 
 eyes), with " You're the Bishop, are you ? and a devilish 
 good plac> too ; MIND YOU KEEP IT." 
 
 Between the owners of horses and the Ring there 
 never will be any very perfect understanding. The 
 former consider that they may milk and scratch their 
 horses if it suits their book, or start them purposely 
 short of work ; while the latter and the public look 
 pretty much upon the horses as their own property 
 as soon as the acceptances are made. In fact, it is a 
 battle of kites and crows ; and it is matter of observa- 
 tion that those who are the most unscrupulous them- 
 selves are always the most stern and talkative 
 moralists when their own interests have been thwarted. 
 Lord George Bentinck gave the turf a serious blow 
 when he dictated to the backers of Elis the only terms 
 on which he would allow him to start for the St. 
 Leger. Hence his copyists have been " legion," and 
 many a horse has been sent home because the owner 
 has been forestalled, and cannot get any one to lay 
 him the original odds, in spite of his thumbscrew, to 
 a 5/. note. Not a few of the Ring have horses, or an 
 interest in them ; but out of the 800 men (including 
 Lord Jersey, the father of the turf, and the other 66 
 members of the Jockey Club) who declare their 
 colours, not more than 220 run them in their own 
 names. A nom-de-guerre in sporting used to be prin- 
 cipally used by University men when a steeple-chase 
 or a boat race required them to dare the anger of 
 proctors or anxious relations. It was at first rather 
 frowned on by racing authorities in " Mr. Gordon's" 
 case, but they have become as plentiful now .as 
 " spots" were after Voltigeur's victory, or " garters" in 
 later years, among the list of race-jackets, and at least 
 a dozen peers and commoners adopt this very ostrich- 
 like idea of secrecy. 
 
 As regards the morale of the Ring, it must be al- 
 
The Betting Ring. 59 
 
 lowed that speculation is a normal vice in man, and 
 that the world, with its usual unfairness, will persist in 
 frowning on it when it is applied to horses and dogs, 
 and smiles complacently when it views it in connexion 
 with " bulls" and " bears." The very men who gamble 
 without scruple in time bargains and lives, would 
 think their credit as fathers of families compromised 
 if they were known to bet on a horse-race. Still, 
 while we point out this inconsistency, and believe that 
 the turf would sicken and droop without betting, as 
 completely as commerce and business without specu- 
 lation, we cannot but deeply deplore that men with 
 ample means will not consider such a noble sport 
 quite amusement enough of itself, without the extra 
 stimulant of "the jingle of the guinea." We do so 
 more especially, because, as long as those who ought 
 to be considered its leaders will make a business of 
 the odds, instead of occasionally backing their fancy, 
 it is impossible that they can exercise that healthy in- 
 fluence which the turf so much requires to raise its 
 tone, or speak with any real weight in a crisis. Look- 
 ing at the system of betting generally, not five men in 
 twenty can afford to lose, and certainly not one in 
 twenty afford to win. This may seem a paradox ; 
 but few men, unless they have a very large fortune 
 indeed, can take betting quietly. It can't be done. A 
 young man drawing his first winnings is like a tiger 
 tasting his first blood ; he seldom stops again till he 
 is brought to a dead-lock as a defaulter : the finer the 
 fleece, the more the rooks (who began their career as 
 pigeons) come about him ; his visits are extended 
 from a few afternoons to weeks after weeks of race- 
 meetings, and the mind becomes untuned for every- 
 thing else. The Legislature knew this when they 
 stepped in and smashed the deposit system in the list 
 houses. It may be a very Arcadian notion, but still 
 we hold that, to really enjoy sport, a man should 
 never go on to a race-course more than thirteen or 
 
60 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 fourteen picked afternoons in the course of the year, 
 and never bet a penny. 
 
 The great list era, and all its attendant Ripe-for-a- 
 Jails, as Punch termed them, began with Messrs. 
 Drummond and Greville, who " kept an account at 
 the Westminster Bank," in 1847. Up to that time, 
 " sweeps," where every subscriber drew a horse for his 
 ticket, had been amply sufficient to satisfy the popular 
 thirst for speculation on a Derby or St. Leger eve ; 
 and, although in one instance we ascertained that our 
 ticket horse was a leader in a Shrewsbury coach, in- 
 stead of being " prepared," it was satisfactory to know 
 that there was at least fair play. Stimulated by the 
 example of D. and G., the licensed victuallers took it 
 up and a nice mess they made of it, with 10,000 
 " pictures," &c. till the licensing magistrates stepped 
 sternly in. From 1850 to the end of 1853 the listers 
 were in their glory ; and at one period about four 
 hundred betting-houses were open in London alone, of 
 which, perhaps, ten were solvent. Among these pro- 
 prietors, Mr. Davis never laid the odds to less than I/.; 
 one or two others adopted ios. as their limit, and some 
 5^-., while not a few would do the odds for a lad at 6d. 
 Their odds were generally very liberal, and we never 
 espied a real mistake but once, when a first-rate office 
 laid 8 to I against Teddington for the Ascot Cup a 
 fortnight before the race ! In York the system did not 
 thrive, as the Tykes generally knew too well what 
 horses were in work ; but in London, for instance, at 
 least 100 out of 150 Cesarewitch or Cambridgeshire 
 horses would be fancied, and thus the proprietor could 
 always get round. Even the appearance of a horse 
 with 200 to I against his name did not deter the ad- 
 venturous, as the luxury of the bare thought of such a 
 haul was too much to withstand. The wild fever 
 among the houses on the Saturday night when Robbie 
 Noble " came" for the Cambridgeshire, was such as we 
 can never forget. Every lister seemed to be rushing 
 
The Betting Ring. 6 1 
 
 wildly about, as if some great and long pent-up revo- 
 lution had burst forth at last ; and near the Piccadilly 
 Circus especially, that favoured haunt of the Ring, the 
 delirium raged furiously. The rise and fall of the odds 
 on the eve of a great race were such delicate opera- 
 tions that the listers had outlying picquets watching 
 at each other's shops, to give instant intelligence if 
 there was a commission to skin them. The news flew 
 like wildfire from house to house, so that a commis- 
 sioner often found the odds altered long before he had 
 half finished his rounds. They had also paid spies among 
 the railway porters, especially at the Eastern Counties, 
 to tell them what horses were put on to the boxes for 
 Newmarket there; but the "velveteens" had but 
 little notion of their business, and when one of them 
 had spent all his dinner hour and several shillings in 
 cab hire, rushing about to his employers, to tell them 
 that Vermuth and not Aphrodite had gone down for 
 the One Thousand Guineas, it turned out that the little 
 groom had only been quizzing him. These little epi- 
 sodes were of constant occurrence. A London chamber- 
 maid happened, in the fulness of her heart, to tell an 
 old gentleman that she had won 8/., like a true- 
 hearted lass that she was, by backing Daniel O'Rourke 
 (because he came from her own county) for the Derby, 
 and her confidante instantly wrote to the Times, de- 
 manding to know if his dressing-case could any longer 
 be safe near such a dangerous maiden. There was the 
 metropolitan beadle, too, who backed Ninnyhammer 
 at 5/. to 5^., and spent a most restless Sunday before 
 the Derby, in consequence of some one stealing his 
 list ticket for a-joke. Little did the charity children 
 know what an agitated but yet "noble sportsman" 
 preceded them, cocked-hat on head and staff in hand, 
 to church that day ! Then there was the widow, who 
 would have had to apply to the parish for a coffin for 
 her groom-husband, if she had not found a ioo/. 
 winning Glauca ticket in his corduroys, and got some 
 
62 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 " friend" (who, first by persuasion, and then by bully- 
 ing, tried to make her believe he was to " stand 
 in") to give a hint of what it meant. To show the 
 hold that this epidemic took on the lower classes, we 
 have heard that a poor man, when he was asked for 
 his child's name at the font, gave the minister by mis- 
 take a betting ticket with " Springy Jack" on it ; and 
 a Yorkshire gamekeeper showed us, in that very year 
 (1848), three tickets on which he had expended three 
 guineas for the St. Leger alone ! He had withstood 
 three poachers, and fought with his teeth when they 
 disabled his arms ; but the list lure was too strong for 
 Sampson, and his wife seemed equally infatuated on 
 the point. 
 
 The system had become so complete by the exten- 
 sion of the telegraph wires to the race-course, that 
 owners could be backing their horses in London and 
 the enclosure at the same time. A great Northern 
 trainer had, in fact, two horses, each in two races at 
 York, on one afternoon ; and about twenty minutes 
 before the first came off, he received a telegraphic mes- 
 sage, which showed him that his town commissioner 
 had backed the wrong horse very largely for that race, 
 and he had only just time to get the other from the 
 stable and send it to the post. The list-houses did 
 a strong business ; and certainly as long as they did 
 not take deposits (?), they had quite as much right to 
 pursue their calling as Tattersall's, where, under the 
 new Act, no one can be called on to " cover." Albeit 
 the bill of 1853 has done its work, and the fatal 
 facility induced by the open deposit system is nipped 
 in the bud. Inspector Brennan and his cohorts no 
 longer produce piles of betting tickets as the sad results 
 of their station-house search, and those who merely re- 
 gard the turf as a pleasant pastime on an occasional 
 holiday afternoon, are spared the shame of hearing that 
 another poor fellow has had to rue the day he ever saw 
 or read of it amid the mint and rue of the Old Bailey. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MR. KIRBY AND THE FOREIGNERS.* 
 
 tc Loud roar the dismal breakers, 
 
 Loud shrieks the wild sea-gull, 
 Round barks with golden cargoes 
 
 Of thorough-breds from Hull ; 
 High-blowers, cracks, and weedy ones, 
 
 As slow as any man, 
 From whose pyramids of forfeits 
 
 Their owners cut and ran. " 
 
 T^OREIGNERS do very little in the way of young 
 blood stock, but confine their attention almost 
 entirely to mares and sires. They are much more 
 particular about blood than they used to be ; and 
 taking them as a nation, the Germans are most know- 
 ing on the points of a horse, and as the stud-grooms 
 phrase it, " want no telling" Baron de Maltzham, of 
 Vollrathsrah, in Mecklenburg, had about 1 60 brood 
 mares, including half-breds, and he was quite as learned 
 on stud pedigrees as ever Person was in Greek roots. 
 Count Wladimir Baworioski, of Polish Gallicia, had 
 also an enormous stud ; and Count Hahn, of Schlop 
 Basedow, Mecklenburg-Schwerin, who first sent Tur- 
 nus to England, has imported some of our choicest 
 stock, among which Grey Momus, Figaro, and Black 
 Drop were not the foremost. Baron de Biel, of Zie- 
 row, Mecklenburg-Schwerin, was also a great stud- 
 
 * Foreigners have made rapid strides in their knowledge of blood 
 Stock since this chapter was written. 
 
64 The Post arid the Paddock. 
 
 owner, and he may be said to have been the original 
 Jenner who inoculated the dwellers in Fatherland with 
 such a yearning for our thorough-breds. One of these 
 continental Bentincks is a great iron-master so great, 
 in fact, that when he intimated to his Government, 
 during the troubles of 1848, that he intended to close 
 his works, they replied that if he did not carry them 
 on they must, or the revolution would sweep works 
 and Government away together like an avalanche. 
 Among the most constant attendants at our race- 
 courses, season after season, was a magnificent twenty- 
 stone German, connected, we believe, with the leather 
 trade at Berlin, and, without exception, one of the very 
 finest judges of racing that ever set foot on Newmarket 
 Heath. 
 
 Foreigners are not very particular as to the colours 
 of the sires, but are rather prejudiced against chest- 
 nuts, especially if they have much white about them, 
 although Count Henckel did not let this stand in his 
 way when he took a fancy to Ephesus. Dark bay 
 mares suit them, but they prefer black-brown if they 
 can be got. At one time the Russians had an immense 
 fancy for greys ; but they ceased to import them, in 
 consequence of the complaint of Hetman Platoff, that 
 his officers, who always rode them, were much more 
 liable thereby to be picked off. France has imported 
 a considerable number of sires since Diamond, the great 
 match opponent of Hambletonian ; and Lottery, Tar- 
 rare, The Emperor, Inheritor, Brocardo, Auckland, 
 Assault, Nunnykirk, Gladiator, Prime Warden, Sting, 
 Physician, Collingwood, Cossack, Elthiron, Foig-a- 
 Ballagh, lago, Minotaur, Weathergage, Saucebox, 
 and Lanercost, are well-known names in her stud- 
 book. In addition to those we shall mention in their 
 place, and countless others of lesser note, Cetus, 
 Chateau Margaux, Margrave, Glencoe, Riddlesworth, 
 Scythian, and Buzzard are naturalized in America ; 
 Hungary claims Conyngham, Frantic, and Recovery ; 
 
Mr. Kir by and the Foreigners. 65 
 
 Russia has Wanota, Coronation, Jereed, Andover, 
 Uriel, Peep-o'-day Boy, Ithuriel, The Squire, and Van 
 ITromp ; Austria boasts herself in Cardinal Puff, Gold- 
 finder, Clincher, Chief Justice, and Old England ; 
 Prussia followed up her Woful purchase with Brutan- 
 dorf, Elis, Sittingbourne, Talfourd, and Mundig ; 
 while Germany purchased Taurus twice over, and has 
 not a few scions of The Nigger, Wolfdog, Sheet 
 Anchor, Rockingham, Glaucus, Augustus, Erymus, 
 St. Nicholas, and Chief Baron Nicholson, in her stalls : 
 The Colonel was repurchased from them, but for very 
 little purpose ; and Euclid and Attila both died on 
 shipboard. Cobnut is now in the Sardinian domi- 
 nions, and even " John Chinaman" has got Black Jack 
 and Little Bo-Peep. A great number of our blood 
 horses also go to the colonies, and about a hundred of 
 them have landed at the Cape alone between 1840 
 and 1856, many of them with pedigrees a foot long, 
 but sadly unsound outcasts withal. In its paddock 
 list we find the names of the symmetrical Battledore, 
 Middleham, Fancy Boy, Evenus, Traverser, Misdeal, 
 Gammon-Box, Sylvan, Gorhambury, Mr. Martin, and 
 Cockermouth. The Cape turf is said to have reached 
 its zenith under Lord Charles Somerset ; and the 
 late Sir Walter Gilbert bore high testimony to the 
 style in which the Dragoon Guards, weighing on the 
 average about twenty stone, were carried through 
 their long marches by its hackneys. Unhappily, the 
 present colonists do not pay such a high price, or 
 import nearly such good horses as they used to do ; 
 and the Mynheers " cultivate assiduously many of 
 the continental prejudices regarding colour and marks, 
 and are particularly solicitous about small pointed 
 ears, a pretty head, and peacocky carriage ; legs and 
 feet, strength and substance, being minor considera- 
 tions."* f 
 
 * Sporting Review > March, 1856. 
 F 
 
66 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 The Russians, who were once among our largest 
 customers, turn their sires out of the stud at twenty- 
 three, thus virtually following the spirit of the Celtic 
 triplet which says that " Thrice the life of a horse is 
 the life of a man," and so on to stags and eagles 
 in geometric progression. Mr. Kirby of York, a 
 very old exporter of horses, did a great business 
 with them for about half a century. This wonder- 
 ful octogenarian first set foot at Cronstadt in 1791, 
 when he was little more than twenty-one, in charge 
 of a string of horses, which a speculative Market 
 Weighton brewer sent out at a venture, and repeated 
 his visits till he was nearly sixty, bearing with him 
 on his dreary three-weeks' voyages the choicest blood 
 of Yorkshire. As his business increased, he gene- 
 rally chartered a vessel there and back again, and on 
 one occasion he took out no less than forty-two in 
 the Mary Frances. They were stabled in the hold 
 on the ballast-sand, and each of them was allowed a 
 stall of six feet by four and a half, while the whole 
 space devoted to them was seven feet high, and well 
 ventilated through the hatches. What with stall fit- 
 tings, corn, hay, straw, water-casks, and freight, they 
 each cost about io/. on the voyage. He only lost 
 one of them at sea during the whole of his journey- 
 ings ; but as if to make up for it, fourteen were 
 drowned in his sale stables in one night, by a sudden 
 inundation of the Neva. These were not his only 
 perils on Russian soil. He had once scarcely bedded 
 up a lot for the night, after their walk from Cronstadt 
 to St. Petersburg, and written circulars to his prin- 
 cipal customers, who, like the Emperor Alexander, 
 were wont to convert his stables into a sporting lounge, 
 than he received notice that the Emperor Paul had 
 ordered all the English ships to be seized. The fact 
 of his being a well-known character in Russia saved 
 him from being personally annoyed as his countrymen 
 were ; but still he felt so apprehensive lest his horse? 
 
Mr. Kir by and the Foreigners. 67 
 
 should be confiscated, that he determined to sell every- 
 thing off at once. Accordingly he asked Count Rotosch- 
 pin, who had been betimes at his stables, to make him a 
 3OO/. offer for Brough, if he knew of any one who would 
 buy that horse and ten out of the eleven mares in one 
 lot. " I know a gentleman, or at least one who calls 
 himself a gentleman, that Count Koutightsoff, who'll 
 take them ! " was the response, and to him Mr. Kirby 
 accordingly went. The Count asked him their names, 
 and ordered him to go home and bring a list with the 
 prices marked. As he somewhat suspected how it 
 would be, he returned with a list headed with " Bay 
 horse Brough, SOQ/." " The mares are culled ones, I 
 conclude," said the Count, as he glanced at the list ; 
 and then, pointing to Brough's price, he added, " I'll 
 give you that for the whole eleven, or I'll take them 
 to-morrow for nothing ; take your twenty minutes to 
 think of it :" and with this he left the room. Punctual 
 to a moment, he reappeared in full uniform, and sar- 
 donically inquired of Mr. Kirby if he liked his offer. 
 " I should be cheating myself, sire," replied the repre- 
 sentative of all the Tykes at the Court of St. Peters- 
 burg ; " I should not clear my expenses if I took 
 your price." " And you're trying to cheat me, you 
 English rascal ; I'll pinch your ear for it" was the 
 fierce rejoinder. Remonstrance was a dangerous game ; 
 so Mr. Kirby sorrowfully led the eleven, as he was 
 directed, to the Emperor's stables, and received 
 Brough's price for the lot on delivery. One mare, 
 sister to Hambletonian, had not been included in the 
 lot ; and on the very morning that the news of the 
 Emperor Paul's death brought smiles into every face 
 except Koutightsoff's (who went flying across the 
 Neva, not on Brough, but on foot, in a grey peasant 
 suit), Mr. Kirby sleighed five or six miles out of St. 
 Petersburgh to close with a nobleman who had bee? 
 nibbling at her from the evening she landed. " Any 
 news at St. Petersburg, Kirby ? " was the apparently 
 
 F 2 
 
68 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 off-hand question which was put to him when he 
 entered ; and when he reflected on the nonchalance 
 with which both his customer and his brother, who 
 were seated at an early breakfast, received the news, 
 he did not altogether disbelieve the rumour that the 
 twain had with their own hands drawn the fatal scarlet 
 sash the night before. With true John Bull curiosity, 
 our hero joined in the privileged stream of Muscovites, 
 which flowed through the little room where the 
 tragedy was enacted. The ex-tyrant lay where he 
 fell, on a little sofa, in a morning gown and cap, with 
 a face as black as a Mulatto, and the left jaw all awry, 
 and broken by a fist-blow from a third conspirator, 
 who must have " blushed to find it fame." This pri- 
 vate view was succeeded by a public lying-in-state, 
 and the corpse, dressed in uniform with a blaze of 
 orders on its breast, met the fierce gaze of its late 
 subjects for three days and nights at the foot of the 
 throne. Koutightsoff retained his presence of mind 
 in money transactions to the last ; and when Mr. 
 Kirby gained an interview with him during the twenty- 
 four hours which were allowed him by the police to 
 set his house in order, he observed that it did not lie 
 in his mouth to dispute the valuation of the man who 
 knew better than any one in Russia what Brough was 
 worth, and that he was therefore, quite welcome to 
 have him back for 5<DO/. ! Never was Yorkshireman 
 so checkmated before. 
 
 The Emperors Alexander and Nicholas invariably 
 smiled on Mr. Kirby, whether his country was in 
 sunshine or in shade with them, and not only gave 
 him four valuable rings, but granted him permission 
 to emblazon the two-headed black eagle of Russia on 
 the front of his white jockey caps. His racing days 
 were over before the late Emperor visited Ascot Heath 
 in 1844, or he would have taken care that his "cho- 
 colate jacket and white cap" should have been un- 
 furled for the fray. It has always been a subject of 
 
Mr. Kir by and the Foreigners. 69 
 
 congratulation with him that the Imperial visit did 
 not take place two years sooner, when his favourite 
 Lanercost staggered in last for the Cup, which he 
 had won so cleverly the year before. No light has 
 ever been thrown on this sad transaction, except 
 that when the horse stopped in his van for a few mo- 
 ments at the door of an inn between Leatherhead 
 and Sunning Hill, a man in a sailor's dress jumped 
 in an apparently off-hand way on to the side of the 
 van, remarking to another tar, " Jump up, here's 
 Lanercost; I never saw him before!" and took a 
 long survey of him. One of the pair is supposed to 
 have administered some very powerful narcotic powder 
 in his handkerchief, while his comrade took off the 
 attention of the groom. The result was, that Tem- 
 pleman found him "as dead as a tar-barrel" in his 
 hands, long before he had reached the Swinley Post ; 
 and in the course of the next month he completely 
 changed colour. 
 
 But we have not told all Mr. Kirby's Russian ad- 
 ventures. After the bombardment of Copenhagen, 
 and before Alexander separated himself from the 
 Northern League, he found popular feeling beginning 
 to run so high against Nelson's countrymen, that he 
 deemed it best to come home. As there was not a 
 chance of getting an ordinary pass under three weeks, 
 he prevailed on Count Waroff (who vowed that he 
 dared not ask such a favour for himself) to station 
 him at the private door of the palace when the 
 Emperor came out to parade his soldiers. He ac- 
 cordingly made his obeisance, and after a passing 
 remark about his last lot of horses, he was graciously 
 asked by the Emperor if he wanted anything, and 
 informed that he might come to him on the parade 
 ground when all was over. This was no easy matter, 
 as the guards told him he was an " impudent English- 
 man/ and ought to be "ashamed to show his face ;" 
 and one more delicately ironical than the rest per- 
 
70 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 sisted in following him, and taking care that he did 
 speak to the Emperor. " You must bring me good 
 horses, Thomas Kirby, if you do go," was the only 
 condition imposed upon him. The appeal of the red- 
 tape Chamberlain against such a heretical proceeding 
 as getting a pass signed and countersigned in twenty- 
 four hours was quashed almost without a hearing ; and 
 punctually at the end of that time he was gliding out 
 of Cronstadt, pass in pocket, in a Russian war frigate. 
 As they neared Revel, they met Nelson's fleet coming 
 out of it in three divisions, and Mr. Kirby was straight- 
 way elevated on to the poop by the side of the Rus- 
 sian Admiral, and interpreted to the captain of a 
 British flag-boat the news, of which up to that moment 
 he had been kept in the profoundest ignorance, that 
 the Emperor had signed the treaty with Great Britain. 
 This was the first intimation Nelson had of the fact, 
 as the imperial courier had not arrived overland from 
 St. Petersburg. On receiving the official confirma- 
 tion of Mr. Kirby's poop story, he at once signalled to 
 " send that Englishman on board," and accordingly 
 the Englishman and his trunk were hoisted into his 
 flag-ship, the St. George. During the two days that 
 he spent under the shade of the Union Jack, he had 
 no conversation with the " poor thing like a shadow," 
 but merely watched him as he paced the quarter-deck. 
 Still he was not forgotten ; but was sent off free of 
 expense by the Speedwell to Yarmouth, and kept his 
 promise right faithfully to the Emperor by re-appear- 
 ing in less than three months at the palace, with a list 
 of forty culled ones. 
 
 The late Emperor was nearly as fond of horses as 
 his brother, and one of his last purchases was a 
 splendid black charger from Mr. Ashton, of Lincoln- 
 shire. He made a tempting offer to Frank Butler in 
 1842, to go over and ride and train for him at 
 Sarkasello ; but fears of the cold climate, and his 
 brightening saddle hopes at home, deterred him from 
 
Mr. Kirby and the Foreigners. 7 1 
 
 taking it ; and the late Henry Neale, who was glad to 
 leave it for the milder air of St. Germain-en-laye, the 
 veritable Rees/i-mond of France, emigrated in his 
 place. The highest prices Mr. Kirby ever received 
 from Nicholas were 2000 guineas for Van Tromp, and 
 2250 guineas for General Chasse. The latter was 
 rather a compact, very good-looking horse, though a 
 trifle too short in the neck and barrel, dark chestnut, 
 with a light-coloured, high-set tail and mane, and, as 
 Sir Robert Peel said of his great namesake, " a most 
 unsurrendering countenance." He was up to very 
 high weights, but his victories, which Jack Holmes 
 had fairly to cut out of him with steel and whalebone, 
 were the most bloody we ever witnessed, and in 
 temper, as Mr. Kirby was wont to say, " the Emperor 
 Paul was nothing to him." He bought him from Sir 
 James Boswell in the winter of 1837, an d shipped 
 him as early as he could, in the ensuing spring, with- 
 out letting him see a mare. In all his experience with 
 horses, Mr. Kirby never spent a more weary four 
 months than he did with this son of Actaeon. His 
 first owner's impression was that he " would not lead," 
 but the lad eventually contrived to coax him from 
 Gullane to York. He commenced operations with 
 his new groom when he first walked him down a 
 narrow lane near Walmgate Bar, and was kneeling on 
 him and trying to tear him to pieces, when a squadron 
 of labourers charged him with sticks and dung-forks, 
 and made him loose his hold. No one but Mr. Kirby 
 dared give him a ball, and his wild frenzy when he 
 found himself hoppled for the occasion was fearfully 
 beautiful to see. As a last effort to sober him he was 
 walked to Hull without his shoes ; but footsore and 
 tired as he was, he resolutely refused to do more than 
 put his head out of the stable the next morning, so 
 long as the crowd, who had been attracted by his turf 
 fame, remained in the yard. When they were turned out 
 and his eyes had been bandaged, he obeyed orders 
 
72 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 rather more readily ; and as he chanced to hit one of 
 his front legs against the step as he left the stable, 
 he stepped so ludicrously high on crossing the move- 
 able stage to the vessel that he took very little note 
 of it. Once more in the light he had another frenzy- 
 fit, and was sadly uproarious all the voyage. 
 
 Mr. Kirby might well say, in the language of his 
 country, " he was a parlous horse ;" but we have been 
 told that his old trainer, Fobert, has still a tender re- 
 collection of the days they spent at Holywell together, 
 and had sent a commission to purchase him at some- 
 thing under a hundred, when war was proclaimed. 
 Merlin was also one of the brilliant savages, and was 
 obliged to be double-chained to the rack in the paint- 
 ing-room, when he visited Mr. Herring senior, at Six- 
 Mile Bottom. His temper failed him when he was 
 slung for a broken leg, and he made an early use of 
 his liberty by killing his groom. The Bard, we 
 believe, committed homicide once, if not twice ; and 
 Mundig is said not only to have meant well on a 
 similar occasion, but not to have allowed any one to 
 go near him for a fortnight Una and Malton could 
 hardly be got into a van or railway box ; Chanticleer 
 took such a strange prejudice against the latter mode 
 of conveyance on a sudden, that it was found impos- 
 sible to take him to Goodwood one year ; and we 
 think it was Cranebrook who steadily refused for 
 three weeks to let any one shoe him. Violante had 
 a permanent horror of a blacksmith, and Mr. Robert 
 Heathcoate's Georgiana, one of the first horses that 
 Sam Chifney rode, was always obliged to be backed 
 out of the stable and backed in again. There is also 
 a story in Northamptonshire, to the effect that the 
 celebrated fifteen-one "Candlestick horse" took 
 offence at his groom's style of friction, and was only 
 cleaned for several seasons by a series of judicious 
 dashes with a besom. This horse was originally 
 bought y Dr. Hill, of Hinckley, for a few pounds, as 
 
Mr. Kir by and the Foreigners. 73 
 
 he stood ragged and forlorn from the Welsh hills, and 
 tied to the rails in Leicester market. His new owner, 
 who was no feather-weight, little thought what " a 
 proud sea" he was bestriding, till he suddenly took 
 the bit in his teeth, when he heard the music of the 
 Atherstone near Hinckley, and carried him over the 
 hills and far away from his patients to Loughboro* I 
 However, a thorough-bred chestnut was made, some 
 forty years ago, the scapegoat for all the troubles 
 which the temper of his race has inflicted on men. 
 His master was an eccentric squire, whose ire had 
 been specially excited against the horse for not 
 winning a race in which he had started dead lame. 
 After a formal trial, the poor wretch was sentenced to 
 seven years' transportation, which was subsequently 
 altered to imprisonment for life. He was thrust into 
 a loose box, and kept in perpetual darkness ; no 
 straw was given him, his corn was interdicted, and 
 just enough hay and water to keep life and body 
 together was handed to him through an aperture. 
 No one cared or dared to interfere, and not until the 
 old man died was the door opened and his victim 
 allowed to wade forth, after fifteen months, into the 
 light of day. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 NEWMARKET IN THE OLDEN TIME. 
 
 "'Tis sixty years since." 
 
 Waverley. 
 
 WE were once killing a little time in a circulating 
 library, when we stumbled on the biography 
 of our greatest English entomologist, who died at the 
 age of ninety. Making allowance therefore for in- 
 fancy, he must, to judge from his published senti- 
 ments, have lived for nearly seventy years in an insect 
 world of his own. The lamp of his zeal never waxed 
 dim. A year or two before his death, he was seen 
 trudging forth, with his lantern, into the wood be- 
 hind his parsonage, to learn if the Formica rufa (red 
 ant) really worked or shut up at midnight ; and he 
 was in perfect ecstacies, one afternoon, when he 
 found a golden bug sporting on the window-sill. 
 Half a century before, he had shown equally strong 
 emotions when he discovered something of the same 
 genus, " but new to me," on his stocking, at a little 
 inn in Norfolk. A sociable gig-ramble of a month, 
 which he had undertaken, through some of the east- 
 ern counties, with a friend (after whom he had chris- 
 tened several insects), caused him to be dressing there 
 on that memorable morning, and brought him, on 
 the evening of July 3rd, 1797, to the friendly portals 
 of The Ram at Newmarket, into which Lord Orford 
 had driven his Stag four-in-hand with such hot haste 
 
Newmarket in the Olden Time. 75 
 
 when the Essex hounds ran their slot. The incidents 
 of the visit are thus handled in his journal : 
 
 "July 3rd, arrived at Newmarket 6 P.M., where The Ram, wide 
 opening its ravenous maw, stood to receive us. We regale ourselves, 
 after an expeditious journey, upon a comfortable cup of tea, and then 
 take a walk to the race-course, as far as the stands. By the way we 
 observe Centaurea calcitrapa plentifully. At some distance we see the 
 Devil's Dyke, and terrified with the prospect, retreat with hasty steps 
 to supper. Soham cheese very fine. July 4th. On going into the quad- 
 rangle of this magnificent inn, I observed a post-chaise, with episcopal 
 insignia ; it belonged to our worthy diocesan. On the panel of the 
 chaise-door I took a new Empis" 
 
 Having thus violated the sanctuary of a Bishop's 
 carriage, and stowed their victim in the specimen- 
 box, they seem to have taken a detour of two or three 
 days, during which they slew a Tabanis bovinus, 
 which had bitten the gig horse till it was covered 
 with blood. Their next Newmarket entry is as 
 follows : 
 
 " July 6th. Left Cambridge early. A little before eight we reach 
 the Devil's Dyke : we dismount to look for insects, and find in vast 
 abundance the Scarabceus ruricola of Fabricius, and the Scarabczus 
 variabilis of Mainham. This unexpected success acted as a cordial and 
 reviver to our spirits. Once more enter The Ram, and here breakfast ; 
 and after settling our new colony of Scarabcei in their boxes, set off 
 again for Barton Mills." 
 
 We carefully copied these quaint remarks into our 
 pocket-book ! and our reflections on them, as we 
 strolled home, were on this wise : First, we thought 
 what a mercy it was these sages were not challenged 
 for touts, and how very little the trainers would have 
 believed in them and their mild explanations. Again, 
 we felt not a little nettled that they should have 
 passed through Newmarket when George the Third 
 was king, and yet handed nothing down to posterity 
 but a few enthusiastic reflections on its inns and its 
 insects, Alas ! they wot not, poor harmless souls ! 
 of the high-bred sportsmen and the sound-lunged 
 steeds, who had so often terrified their Scarafazi, as 
 they galloped over that Heath, which is not without 
 
76 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 its charm for those who love the traditions of the 
 past. " It was here," says the author of Historic 
 Fancies, "that the Duke of his day felt a much 
 greater excitement than in chasing the rebels at Cul- 
 loden ; here that Junius Duke of Grafton when Prime 
 Minister, would come with that fair lady for whom 
 he had abandoned that fairer Duchess whom Chauve- 
 lin had so adored ; here that a quarter of a century 
 before Walpole had won Cups with more pleasure 
 than he was to wear a coronet ; here that his 
 great rival felt all that interest in racing, which 
 produced his charming paper on Newmarket in the 
 World." 
 
 At the very time when this great beetle-digging 
 match came off over its Bunbury Course, the Racing 
 Club of the " little town in Suffolk" was in its very 
 heyday of renown. The ink with which Boswell 
 had chronicled its glories was scarcely dry when he 
 became acquainted with Dr. Johnson ; and if the 
 grave had not but just claimed him, the incidents of 
 another five-and-twenty years might now have fur- 
 nished him with ample materials for an additional 
 canto. He would not have failed to sing how pow- 
 der and pigtails were seen there no more, and how 
 the solemn league and covenant, which was entered 
 into and carried out on a perfect field-day of cutting 
 and combing in the powder-room at Woburn Abbey, 
 had wrought this wondrous change. The troubled 
 state of the continent prevented the patrons of racing 
 from roving away in quest of Parisian novelties and 
 Italian skies ; and hence the axle-trees of the Ches- 
 terford post-chaises were seldom allowed to cool 
 during seven months of the year. Nearly every 
 trainer was a private one, and out of the three or 
 four hundred nags who (until Robson introduced the 
 eight o'clock plan) took their breathings at four in 
 the morning and four in the afternoon, at least half 
 were stout enough to be matched at high weights 
 
Newmarket in the Olden Time. 7 7 
 
 over the D.I., or enter the lists for a B.C. plate. 
 Very few two-year-olds were then trained, but year- 
 lings were at times called upon to exhibit, over their 
 especial 2 fur. 52 yds. course on the Flat. Matching 
 was the very heart-blood of the meetings, and when 
 ten or twelve choice souls, each with the spirit of a 
 Bedford or a Glasgow, met in earnest round the 
 Club decanters, both jockeys and trainers knew that 
 there would be heavy work cut out for them before 
 dawn. Five harvest moons had waned since the 
 merry heart and splendid presence of " George 
 Guelph" had ceased to enliven these revels. The 
 Newmarket breakfast-tables were no longer on the 
 qui vive for the news of some fresh practical joke 
 which had been played off by him at the Club over- 
 night. No French Prince had now to be coaxed 
 vigorously for twelve hours before he would forgive 
 the royal thrust, which sent him suddenly overhead 
 into the pond before its windows, as he bent forward 
 to examine " de beautiful fish of gold;" and even 
 Bow-street Townsend had ceased to look grim and 
 discomfited, when the wags would persist in asking 
 him if he had "found the door keyf } The royal 
 string, with their lads in scarlet liveries, was no longer 
 to be seen issuing out of the Palace stables, when 
 Baker or Neale was in command, and streaming across 
 the flat, or up the Bury hill, in Indian file ; and a 
 massive but finely-formed outline, in an overcoat with 
 a fur collar, was no longer dimly descried at the end- 
 ing post by Samuel Chifney, as he rode the trials at 
 five o'clock on a grey September morning. The 
 bitterness with which some, who were all smiles to 
 the Prince's face, commented behind his back on the 
 running of Escape, had driven him in disgust from 
 the spot, with a hasty vow that it should know him 
 no more. Still his temporary desertion did not make 
 the Heath a desert. Francis Duke of Bedford had 
 upwards of thirty horses at the Valley, or Eight-mile 
 
78 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Bottom, which, with the grandfather of the Stephen- 
 sons as their trainer, and Samuel Chifney as jockey, 
 nobly upheld the prestige of the " buff and purple 
 stripes." Pratt had a large string of Lord Grosvenor's 
 at Hare Park ; and there was, too, no mean cluster of 
 trainers at the Six-mile Bottom. It was here that the 
 Prince had his stud-farm, which with the house an- 
 nexed passed as a gift into Colonel Leigh's hands, and 
 became memorable in Mr. Hunter's day as the birth- 
 place of the grey Gustavus ; and still later, of many 
 a young scion of the straight-thighed Partisan, whose 
 inamoratas might be seen working at the plough, till 
 within a month of foaling, on Lord Lowther's farm. 
 In Newmarket itself, Sir Frank Standish's stable was 
 among the foremost, and had, within the two previous 
 years, nailed the plates of two Derby winners, and 
 one Oaks winner, on its doors. Messrs. Panton and 
 Vernon, too, not only resided and kept private trainers 
 there, but the former was an equal enthusiast with 
 hound and horn, and hunted a part of the Cambridge- 
 shire and Essex countries. Although he had some 
 good racers in his time, he always said that his 
 Childers was the flying Abyssey-wood fox, who stood 
 before the hounds for five-and-twenty miles without a 
 check, and was pulled down, after running straight 
 along the A. R, within a few yards of the weighing- 
 house, as it strove in its death agony to rise the hill. 
 Crockford purchased his estate after his death ; but 
 as yet the pale flabby features and white " hay-wisp- 
 fashion" neckcloth of the great speculator were un- 
 known to fame. The colours of Sir Charles Bunbury 
 and Mr. Christopher Wilson, both of whom were in 
 turn " Fathers of the Turf," not unfrequently caught 
 Mr. Hilton's eye at the finish, and earned a still less 
 fleeting notice on the canvas of Stubbs. Ben Mar- 
 shall had not as yet set up his easel, and Robson had 
 not become the Leviathan trainer of Suffolk, but was 
 engaged to Sir F. Poole, at Lewes, and waxing greater 
 
Newmarket in the Olden Time. 79 
 
 and greater after Waxy's victory at Epsom ; Lord 
 Clermont never tired of looking into his own stables, 
 where Hammond's Bank now stands.; and Perren 
 had the charge of Lord Barrymore's string. It is told 
 of his eccentric lordship, that on one occasion he came 
 forth on to the pavement in front of his stables, and 
 collected a large crowd by roaring " O yes ! O yes ! 
 O yes ! who wants to buy a horse that can walk five 
 miles an hour, trot eighteen, and gallop twenty?" 
 and then discomforted a bidder by assuring him that 
 " when I see such a horse I will be sure to let you 
 know." " Hell Fire Dick," so called from his mar- 
 vellous knack of getting horses on to their legs in 
 half-mile and quarter-mile matches, trained for " old 
 Q." at Queensbury House, where the Prince had been 
 a constant dinner guest during the meetings. The 
 old "sallow leather" peer, with his three-cornered 
 hat (on which point Lord Clermont imitated him), 
 his sharp aquiline nose and keen sunken eye, was 
 then, both here and everywhere, owing to his extra- 
 ordinary carriage and cricket-ball matches, &c., an 
 object of the utmost interest ; and he thought nothing 
 of riding his pony right up to the best windows in the 
 High street, and ogling the fair maids and matrons 
 within. His character for acuteness may be seen from 
 the high place he holds in the following " Recipe to 
 make a Jockey," which was handed about the coffee- 
 houses of that day : 
 
 " Take a pestle and mortar of moderate size : 
 Into Queensbury's head put Bunbury's eyes : 
 Cut Dick Vernon's throat, and save all the blood ; 
 To answer your purpose, there's none half so good : 
 Pound Clermont to dust, you'll find it expedient ; 
 The world cannot furnish a better ingredient : 
 From Derby and Bedford take plenty of spirit ; 
 Successful or not, they have always that merit : 
 Tommy Panton's address, John Wastell's advice, 
 And a touch of Prometheus 'tis done in a trice." 
 
 Newmarket has undergone endless changes since all 
 
8o The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 these choice spirits exchanged minds on the Heath. 
 The mind of the venerable waiter, on whose head no 
 race-goer or villager could ever remember to have 
 seen a hat, and the ghosts of the chaises which rum- 
 bled that seventeen miles, year after year, past Bourne 
 Bridge, may be soothed when they see the Chester- 
 ford line rank with grass and weeds ; but this is the 
 only " pull" they have. Time, that gentle innovator, 
 has silently done his work in Newmarket, and in some 
 respects, not for the better. The outline of the Club 
 buildings is the same, but the greater part of the 
 Palace has been pulled down, sold, or converted into 
 shops, and the late Duke of Rutland was its latest 
 race-occupant. " Queen Jamie" had first built it for 
 a hunting residence, and in 1647 the Roundhead sen- 
 tinels Hummed a surly hymn at its portals as they 
 kept watch and ward for a fortnight over their cap- 
 tive King. Under their grim auspices the cockpit, in 
 which James had so often delighted, quickly became 
 desolate ; but cocking from ten till dinner-time, races 
 from three to six, and then to the cockpit again, was 
 the summer order of the Merrie Monarch's Newmar- 
 ket day. His time was divided between Windsor, 
 Newmarket, and Winchester, and when nothing but a 
 few blackened walls remained of the much-loved 
 racing seat, his autumns were principally spent in 
 hunting excursions in the New Forest. These royal 
 visits to Winchester, on the site of whose ancient 
 castle he laid the foundation of a palace, which Sir 
 Christopher Wren had designed partly after the model 
 ot Versailles, did not lack his wonted retinue, who 
 broke the stillness of the grey cathedral cloisters with 
 their glee songs and their dances. The Duchess of 
 Portsmouth, his most favoured mistress, furnished out 
 of hand a house for herself; but Nell Gwynne had 
 reason to sigh for her snug Newmarket " Nunnery," 
 beneath whose roof Frank Butler died, and which was 
 said to be connected in old times with the Palace by 
 
Newmarket in the Olden Time. 81 
 
 a subterranean passage. When the "Harbinger," 
 whose duty it was to provide lodgings in a royal pro- 
 gress, arrived at Winchester, he marked the prebendal 
 house of Dr. Ken for Nelly's residence ; but that 
 dauntless King's chaplain refused her admittance, and 
 she was forced to seek lodgings elsewhere, until the 
 more complaisant Dean Meggot built her a room at 
 the south end of the deanery. Ken's holy courage 
 met with its reward, even from the sovereign whom 
 he had defied ; and two years later, and within one 
 short week of his consecration as Bishop, he was sum- 
 moned to administer to him the last consolations of 
 the Church. On the very evening of the Sunday that 
 he was consecrated (Jan. 25th, 1685), says Evelyn, 
 " I was witness of the King, sitting and toying with 
 his concubines, Portsmouth, Cleveland, and Mazarine, 
 &c., a French boy singing love songs in that glorious 
 gallery, while about twenty of the great courtiers 
 were at Basset round a large table, a bank of at least 
 2OOO/. in gold before them. Six days after, all was in 
 the dustf and great was the wailing at Whitehall and 
 Newmarket. 
 
 About the close of the eighteenth century the town 
 had no more earnest patron than the future Duke of 
 Dorset, whose horses were under the care of Samuel 
 Chifney. One Derby and four Oaks had already 
 fallen to the lot of the latter ; and although Pratt, the 
 two Arnulls, Hindley, Dennis Fitzpatrick, and the 
 then juvenile Frank Buckle were powerful opponents, 
 he was universally looked upon as the first horseman 
 of the time. In fact, with all his fond partiality for 
 the brother who shared his triumphs, Will Chifney 
 always considered that his father was a shade the 
 superior. He was about 5ft. 5 in. in height, walked 
 about gst. 5lb. in the winter months, and could ride, if 
 required for a great race, 7st. I2lb. to the last. With 
 the exception of Frank Buckle, perhaps no man was 
 ever so exactly built for his profession. His science 
 
 G 
 
82 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 was, however, far from being confined to the saddle, 
 and hence while he ceaselessly initiated his son Sam 
 into all its mysteries, he took equal pains to instruct 
 the elder brother William in the minutest details of 
 training and stable practice. His own knowledge on 
 these points was so great, that calumny soon marked 
 him for her own ; and the under-current of jealousy 
 which was always steadily flowing against the Prince 
 was not likely to spare his jockey. Hence it was that 
 the very year after he left Mr. Panton's service, and 
 engaged himself to the Prince at a 2OO/. salary, the 
 Yorkshiremen made their venomous attacks upon him 
 for his riding of Traveller and Creeper. This was 
 followed up by the Escape affair in the autumn of 
 that year (1791) ; but Chifney, conscious of his inno- 
 cence, "bore these attacks and their consequences with 
 the utmost calmness ; and when some eight years 
 after, the far-seeing tykes again blamed his riding of 
 Mr. Cookson's Sir Harry, he requested that gentleman 
 to -put up Singleton on the following day, and had the 
 quiet satisfaction of seeing the horse beaten off again 
 in a very much worse field, The malice of his perse- 
 cutors tempted him in after-years to speak with his 
 pen, through the pages of " Genius Genuine," the very 
 same remarks as to condition, &c, which he had pri- 
 vately tendered to his employers after each of these 
 races. His great theory of slack-rein riding, for which 
 the Duke of Bedford had been so unmercifully teased 
 at the Club parties, that he very nearly requested 
 him to send in his jacket, was copiously treated of in 
 this work, and the few following sentences may be 
 said to comprise the kernel of his sentiments on the 
 subject : 
 
 " The first fine part in ridirg a race is to command your horse to run 
 light in his mouth : it is done with manner ; it keeps him the better 
 together, his legs are the more under him, his sinews less extended, less 
 exertion, his wind less locked ; the horse running thus to order, feeling 
 light for his rider's wants ; his parts are more at ease and ready, and 
 can run considerably faster when called upon than when he has been 
 
Newmarket in the Olden Time. 83 
 
 running in the fretting, sprawling attitudes, with part . of his rider's 
 weight in his mouth. 
 
 ** And as the horse comes to his last extremity, finishing his race, he 
 is the better forced and kept straight with manner, and fine touching to 
 his mouth. In this situation the horse's mouth should be eased of the 
 weight of his rein ; if not, it stops him little or much. If a horse is a 
 slug, he should be forced with a manner up to this order of running, and 
 particularly so if he has to make play, or he will run the slower, and 
 jade the sooner for the want of it. 
 
 " The phrase at Newmarket is, that you should pull your horse to 
 ease him in his running. When horses are in their great distress in 
 running, they cannot bear that visible manner of pulling as looked for 
 by many of the sportsmen ; he should be enticed to ease himself an inch 
 a time, as his situation will allow. 
 
 " This should be done as if you had a silken rein as fine as a hair, 
 and that you were afraid of breaking it. 
 
 " This is the true way a horse should be held fast in his running. 
 
 " N.B. If the Jockey Club will be pleased to give me two hundred 
 guineas, I will make them a bridle as I believe never was, and I believe 
 can never be, excelled for their light weights to hold their horses from 
 running away." 
 
 His name was so inseparably connected with this 
 style of riding, that when Stubbs painted him on 
 Baronet he represented him sitting backward, as was 
 his wont, with an apparently slack rein. It was the 
 son who caused " the Chifney rush" to pass into an 
 English proverb ; but, although many affected to 
 consider him a pedant, Paganini had not more com- 
 plete mastery over a violin than the father acquired 
 over a horse's mouth, however hard and unformed. 
 This was strikingly proved in the case of Knowsley, 
 at Guildford, whither after being purchased by the 
 Prince out of Yorkshire for one thousand guineas, he 
 was sent to run for the King's Plate. This horse had 
 run away with every jockey as yet, and therefore a 
 large party of the Pnnce's friends came down ex- 
 pressly to see how Chifney would handle him. 
 " Take that silly gimcrack away, and bring me a plain 
 snaffle" was his remark when they handed him a 
 tremendous curb-bridle for inspection in the weighing- 
 house ; and then sallying forth, snaffle in hand, he not 
 only went first past the judge with a slack rein, but 
 
 G 2 
 
84 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 repeated the feat on him shortly after at Winchester. 
 He was as great on idle horses as he was on pullers of 
 the Knowsley stamp ; but perhaps one of his greatest 
 triumphs in mouth-touching was when he rode Eagle. 
 He had advised the Duke of Dorset to buy the horse 
 from Sir Frank Standish, and run him for the King's 
 Plate at Newmarket. When the two emerged from 
 the rubbing-house, Sir Frank rode up to the Duke, 
 and advised him not to back the horse for a halfpenny, 
 as no jockey yet had been able to make him do his 
 best. Chifney had never been on him before ; but he 
 simply replied, when the Duke reported this speech to 
 him "/'// let Sir Frank Standish see whether I can 
 get him out or not ; and what 's more, I 'II neither use 
 whip nor spur to him" The other jockeys were so 
 fully aware of Eagle's sluggishness, that they posi- 
 tively walked the first three miles and a quarter of the 
 Round Course, and then came along as hard as they 
 could split for the last three furlongs. However, these 
 tactics did not answer, as Eagle could not withstand 
 the masterly bit pressure which was at once brought 
 to bear on him, and won a very fine race by a neck, 
 without being touched by whip or spur. 
 
 If our old friends the beetle-hunters had chanced 
 to turn their steps towards the Bury Hill, on that 
 pleasant July evening, instead of taking a clerical 
 reconnaissance of the Devil's Dyke, they might have 
 passed a merry cricketing group, in which Will and 
 Sam Chifney were bearing a hand. Frank Buckle 
 was then in the very prime of manhood ; Robinson 
 and Harry Edwards were only teething, and Sam 
 Chifney still wanted some months of eleven. Will 
 Chifney, who was two years senior to his brother, was 
 thrice as active in all his ways and movements ; and 
 even at cricket, while the former might be seen inde- 
 fatigable and hot-faced in batting, bowling, and field- 
 ing, the latter stretched himself lazily on the grass till 
 his innings came round, and then made the pace so 
 
Newmarket in the Oldeti Time. 85 
 
 bad between wickets, that his scorer had generally a 
 sinecure. The very different temperaments which 
 even cricket practice elicited, had full scope under the 
 rigid but ever affectionate tuition of their father ; and 
 while he carefully grounded Will in the rudiments of 
 that training lore of which Priam and Zinganee were 
 destined to be such enduring monuments, he gave 
 Sam lesson after lesson in race-riding, from the moment 
 he dared trust him on a pony alone. To leave the 
 whip and bit, which he had handled so long and so 
 worthily, in the hands of another S. CHIFNEY of his 
 own teaching, was the great wish of his heart. Hence, 
 as if with a melancholy foreboding that his child 
 would soon be called to take his own place on the 
 Prince's horses, he used to slip off with him into the 
 stables when he was barely three stone, and after 
 putting a racing saddle on to Kit Karr, Silver, Sober 
 Robin, or Magic, show him by the hour how to sit and 
 hold his reins. Aided by lessons of this nature, and 
 constant practice twice a day in the gallops, Will had 
 already become a very expert horseman ; and while 
 he was with the string at exercise, his father and Sam, 
 one on his Heath hack, and the other on a pony, 
 would mark out a 300 yards' course under the cover of 
 the fir clump on the Warren Hill, and run twelve or 
 thirteen races in an afternoon. Every phase of finish- 
 ing was compressed into the lesson. Sam would make 
 the running ; and then his father would get to his 
 girths, take a pull, and initiate him into the mysteries 
 of a set-to. These tactics would then be reversed, and 
 Sam taught to get up and win by a head in the last 
 stride, or to nurse his pony and come with a tremen- 
 dous rush. The rush did not, however, supersede the 
 favourite slack-rein system, at which both the boys 
 practised with the most intense perseverance. Sam 
 almost lived on his pony; and poor Dennis Fitz- 
 patrick, who died in his forty-second year, from a cold 
 caught in wasting, only six months before Chifney 
 
86 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 senior, used to look jokingly forward to the days when 
 the father and son would challenge him right and left 
 at the winning chair. " By the powers, it's not fair 
 anyhow!' he used to say, as he cantered past them 
 when they were at this game : " Buckle and 1 will be 
 having Sam and SAM-SON doivn on us soon" 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SAM CHIFNEY. 
 
 " And Yorkshire sees, with eye of fear, 
 The Southron stealing from the rear. 
 Aye ! mark his action well 1" 
 
 SIR F. H. DOYLE. 
 
 THE autumn of 1799 brought with it Sam's thir- 
 teenth birthday ; and as a lad of that age, who 
 could still scale 4st. 2lb., had not the chance of three 
 Newmarket mounts a year, his father determined to 
 send him to his maternal uncle, Mr. Smallman, who 
 was then private trainer to the Earl of Oxford, at 
 Brampton Park, in Herefordshire. Although he was 
 sorrowful enough, in his quiet way, at bidding good- 
 bye to all at Newmarket, the little fellow looked 
 eagerly forward to the rides on the " Welsh circuit," 
 which his uncle held out to him. He buoyed himself 
 up too with the hopes that the Prince's heart was 
 still true to racing, and that he and his father would 
 in due time share the Royal mounts. When the 
 " Escape affair" happened, he was little more than 
 five ; but still the image of a handsome stout gentle- 
 man coming down, over and over again, to his father's 
 parlour, with Colonel Leigh, and not only insisting on 
 him and Will staying in the room while they chatted 
 there, but often leaving a bright new guinea in their 
 hands, was one calculated to haunt a child's memory 
 for many a long day. With such high hopes to cheer 
 him, he took to riding for Lord Oxford with no little 
 
88 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 energy and success, and over and over again dis- 
 comfited Dick Carr and the other leaders of the 
 circuit, by " waiting till they had ridden each other to 
 a standstill, and then pouncing on them at the post." 
 His capital riding atoned to his uncle for his impa- 
 tience of stable discipline ; and his lordship's French 
 valet, after receiving many a gallant heel-and-toe 
 assault from him when he tried to put him out of the 
 still-room, was fain at last to make peace with him on 
 the same grounds. The Earl was a man who went 
 strictly on John Osborne's principle, that " if a horse 
 wants sweating, you may as well sweat him for the 
 brass" and his numerous victories in 1800-1 so raised 
 the reputation of Sam and Smallman, that the Prince 
 engaged the latter as his trainer, and in 1802 again 
 ranked among English turfites. His new training 
 quarters were fixed at Albury Grange, near Win- 
 chester, and his stud consisted, hunters and all, of 
 about sixteen. Sam accompanied his uncle thither, 
 for a few weeks, and mounted the magnificent "purple 
 jacket with scarlet sleeves, and gold-braid buttons, 
 and black cap with gold tassel" of the Prince for the 
 first time at the Stockbridge Meeting of that year. 
 Chifney senior was still one of the Turf lions of the 
 day, and hence there was no little anxiety among the 
 Hampshire yokels to see his little son perform. No- 
 thing could have been abler than his riding, but he 
 was beaten a short head on a Fidget colt. This day 
 was always pleasantly marked in his mind as the real 
 and long-wished-for beginning of his riding career, 
 and his favourite farm was christened after the colt's 
 sire. 
 
 The brothers met next at the Grange, after a two- 
 years' separation, and it was settled that Sam should 
 return to Newmarket, and be attached to the stables 
 of Perren, who was then in considerable repute as a 
 trainer, and Will take his place as assistant to his 
 uncle. The Albury arrangement did not, however, 
 
Sam Chifney. 89 
 
 last long ; and the royal stud, after a short sojourn at 
 the sadly small Old Pavilion stables at Brighton, was 
 finally removed, under Smallman's charge, to Perren's 
 stables, at Newmarket. Lord Darlington was at this 
 time one of Perren's principal masters, and a Hap- 
 hazard confederacy was entered into between him and 
 the Prince, which shortly came to an end in conse- 
 quence of some difference about a match between 
 this horse and Dick Andrews, at Lewes. Chifney 
 senior had still the Prince's riding, but Perren was 
 enabled to give young Sam some mounts among his 
 other masters, when an unfortunate outburst of indig- 
 nation on the part of Will, who was now about 
 eighteen, in the High Street of Newmarket, not only 
 brought him for six dreary months within the bolts of 
 theCambridge jail,and brokeoff the connexion between 
 his family and the Prince, but induced the Duke of 
 Grafton and several other leading owners of horses to 
 withdraw their riding retainers from his brother. On 
 the real nature and circumstances of this painful affair 
 there is no need to dwell. The utmost that could be 
 said of Chifney senior was that he showed a want of 
 firmness. His riding fame in this instance was his 
 bane, and it was hardly to be wondered at that 
 owners should do their very utmost to secure the 
 " first call" of him. Four out of the five concerned in 
 it have passed away, and though the indignation of 
 Will was only such as a lad of high principle had a 
 right to feel when he considered that his father had 
 been hardly dealt with, his wrath was unfortunately 
 vented on one who was after all only an involuntary 
 agent in the. matter. Suffice it to say, that time soon 
 applied its healing touch, and that the kind feeling 
 and intercourse between Colonel Leigh and William 
 Chifney were renewed before twelve months had 
 passed away, and continued unbroken till the Colo- 
 nel's death in 1850. Young Sam's friends soon began 
 to flock round him again ; but his father's saddle 
 
90 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 career was over, and he quitted Newmarket ^ for 
 London in 1806, never to return to it. William 
 Edwards had been riding for the Prince in the in- 
 terim, but his heart was still with the Chifneys. A 
 2OO-guinea pension was bestowed on old Sam for the 
 lifetime of his patron, which he assigned, according to 
 the report in Bosanquet and Puller, to one Sparkes, 
 the year before he died, for I26o/. ; and when Sam 
 had won his great New Claret victory, in the First 
 Spring Meeting of 1805, on Lord Darlington's Pavi- 
 lion, he received the royal jacket which his father had 
 sorrowfully "sent in" some two years before. This 
 memorable race was also the means of permanently 
 bringing him into the Darlington riding. Pavilion 
 was a fine dark-bay horse, without any white ; but 
 his private and public performances so little entitled 
 him to cope with his opponents, that he was only 
 quoted at 7 to I at starting. Three such animals had 
 never before been stripped at Newmarket since the 
 Derby, the St. Leger, and the Oaks had become 
 lustre-giving names ; and here each of them, in Han- 
 nibal (W. Arnull), Sancho (Buckle), and Pelisse 
 (Clift), sent forth its champion of the preceding 
 year to join in the D. I. fray, the anticipation of 
 which had fairly thrilled through turfites for many 
 a month before. Sancho's fine size and rare perfor- 
 mances, to say nothing of the fascination which 
 attached to the great " Frank" of that day, brought 
 him to 6 to 4, while Hannibal was at 3, and Pelisse 
 at 5 to I. Sam, who still w r anted some months of 
 nineteen, did not think that the trio were very far out 
 when they asked him, as the starter drew them in 
 line at the Ditch, if he had " come to look on ;" but 
 he patiently waited off, while Sancho forced the run- 
 ning, made a rush a little beyond the Duke's stand, 
 and astonished none among the thousands present 
 more than Lord Darlington and Perren, by coming in 
 some two lengths first. Sancho could not have run 
 
Sam Chifney. 91 
 
 to his form, as he easily defeated Pavilion afterwards 
 in a 3OOO-guinea match at Lewes, and was repeating 
 the feat for the same sum, over the same course, 
 when he broke down. 
 
 When Sam thus gained his first great laurels at 
 Newmarket, he was not unknown in Yorkshire, as 
 his maiden appearance on Knavesmire, in "Mrs. 
 Thornton's year," had been signalized by a winning 
 mount on Lady Brough, against their three great 
 jockeys Jackson, Clift, and Peirse. The slack-rein 
 doctrines of his father had been so much sneered at 
 by these Northern cracks, that he determined to sup- 
 port the honour of the family, and show them, on 
 their own ground, that he could ride his mare in that 
 fashion and win. Accordingly (as the somewhat 
 puzzle-headed turf reporter of those days remarks), 
 " Young Chifney, in the last sixty yards, threw down 
 his reins loose on Lady Brough's neck and flogged 
 her, and afterwards held up his whip loosely to threaten 
 her ; by this she was thrown in with more precipita- 
 tion, as it were headforemost, and was thought to run 
 no risk of the filly changing legs, which is sometimes 
 the case from additional whipping." The tykes, who 
 were very jealous of the honour of their jocks, did not 
 relish their defeat at all ; and when Sam informed his 
 brother, on his return, that he could " lick their heads 
 off" Will, with all that admiration of his father, and 
 that true Newmarket contempt of provincial riding 
 (which has received a considerable check for some 
 years past), replied that " it would be a shame, Sam, if 
 yozt couldn't, after such tuition as you've had'.' 
 
 Having thus fairly fought his way to eminence, Sam 
 had the best mounts for nearly all Perren's masters, 
 among whom Mr. Thornhill had just begun to rank. 
 The mount he had for Lord George Cavendish, on 
 Florival, against Petronel, produced some very great 
 riding on both sides, and Buckle had the mortification 
 of being worsted by a head. In the Violante v. Selim, 
 
92 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 four-mile match, Sam was not so fortunate, as Selim 
 gave in dead-beat, about a quarter of a mile from 
 home. Although some of Buckle's best victories were 
 gained on the world-famed mare Violante, he always 
 felt a little sore when he won on her, as she ought 
 really to have been his own. She had been at one 
 time turned out of Lord Grosvenor's stud as useless, 
 and was open to any purchaser at 5O/. Buckle heard 
 this, and accordingly rode over to Hare Park, and told 
 Pratt that he would have her at that price, and send 
 for her in a day or two. Lord Grovesnor was told of 
 this purchase in the interim, and felt so sure that if 
 Buckle had looked over her and liked her, there 
 must be more in her than had met his own and 
 Pratt's eye, that he sent and begged him to give up 
 his bargain, which he very reluctantly did. Selim, a 
 fine lengthy chestnut with a white heel and immense 
 speed, was also celebrated in that day for more rea- 
 sons than one, as his running in a sweepstakes, when 
 Sam was not " up," was so suspicious that the Prince 
 sent a peremptory message to the trainer, to the effect 
 that the whole of his horses were " to be sold or given 
 away immediately" Reubens on whom Sam had 
 finished a very close fourth in a rattling finish for the 
 Pan Derby of that year (1808), and whom Dan Daw- 
 son boasted that he had once "got at," was among the 
 fifteen which went up to Tattersall's to be sold in the 
 autumn, and eighteen years passed over before the 
 Prince's third and last time of asking began. Chif- 
 ney senior had died in London in the January of 
 the preceding year, within the dismal bars and bolts 
 of the Fleet Prison, where he had been consigned 'by 
 one Latchford the saddler (who had been connected 
 with him in the manufacture of the Chifney bits), for 
 a debt of 35O/. He was scarcely fifty-two when his 
 wife and six children followed him to his last resting- 
 place in the city churchyard of St. Sepulchre's ; but 
 anxiety and illness had made him old long before his 
 
Sam Chifney. 93 
 
 time. A more united family than the Chifneys, both 
 in trouble and prosperity, has rarely ever been wit- 
 nessed ; and the consciousness that he would now be 
 able to make a good May offering to his mother's 
 slender domestic funds not a little nerved Sam's stout 
 heart and hand, when he found himself cleverly 
 winning the Oaks of that year at Tattenham Corner, 
 on the eighth favourite, General Grosvenor's Briseis. 
 
 After this very unlooked-for victory, he quitted 
 Perren's Stable, and the Epsom spell being once 
 broken, he again won the Oaks in 1811, for the 
 Duke of Rutland, on his very smart mare Sorcery, 
 the first favourite. The successful five-years' con- 
 nexion between him and Perren was not severed by 
 his departure, as in 1812 he became his son-in-law. 
 It was now no easy task for him to go to scale under 
 8st, and his field of action was almost entirely con- 
 fined to Ascot, Epsom, and Newmarket. He had a 
 few mounts at York and Doncaster, for Lord Dar- 
 lington, Sir Mark Sykes, &c. ; but north of the Trent, 
 he was always singularly unlucky, and during his 
 long career, he only won twice at the former place, on 
 Serab and Lady Brough, and once at the latter on 
 Amadis-de-Gaul. 
 
 His early Oaks career was always as green and 
 fresh as his nephew's, and in 1816 he won that stake 
 for the third time on another first favourite, General 
 Gower's Landscape ; repeated the feat for Mr. Thorn- 
 hill by a head on Shoveller, against Buckle on Espag- 
 nolle in 1819 ; and for General Grosvenor, on Wings, 
 in 1825. The last-named mare of whose son, Vates 
 thus spake with keen Derby foresight some eighteen 
 years after : 
 
 " 'Twixt here and the distance, great Caravan sings, . 
 O ! that my mother would give me her wings J" 
 
 was low and lengthy, and apparently so moderate 
 that even her trainer, Robson, with all his acumen, 
 
94 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 thought her only fit to enter in a selling stakes on the 
 first day of the meeting, and had arranged that Sam 
 should ride the General's other filly, The Brownie. 
 Will Chifney had formed a very different opinion of 
 the relative merits of the pair, and got Mr. Charlton, 
 the owner of the second horse in the selling stakes, to 
 claim Wings for him, at 250 guineas. After the sale, 
 he asked Robson to take her home for the night, and 
 promised to send a cheque and a man for her the next 
 morning. Something detained him till nearly everyone 
 had quitted the Grand Stand, and on passing through 
 it, the General suddenly beckoned him to his side. 
 " Well! Mr. Chifney" he said, "you wont take my 
 mare, will you ? I want her to force the running for 
 Brownie, in the Oaks, &c." " I will give her up, Sir, 
 only on one condition',' replied Will, " and that is that 
 Sam rides HER, and not Brownie, for the Oaks'.' Will 
 was pressed very hard to ascertain the reasons of his 
 preference, but declared that they were based on 
 nothing but his own idea of the two ; and hence, 
 finding that the mare would be restored on no other 
 terms, it was settled that Sam was to ride Wings. 
 Neither owner or trainer trusted her with much of their 
 money, but the race came off exactly as Will antici- 
 pated ; " Wings, who did not leave her wings at yam" 
 (as a Yorkshireman in after years expressed it), win- 
 ning a very splendid finish by a neck, while The 
 Brownie was beaten off. "The Four-in-hand Club" 
 turned out in great style this year, and Sir Henry 
 Peyton had two sets of greys on the road. Sam's 
 riding was no ordinary treat, and the patience with 
 which he waited off, when Will Arnull jumped away 
 at score on Tontine, and defeated Pastime (who only 
 headed Tontine 100 yards from home) in her turn in 
 the last three or four strides, stamped it in the eyes of 
 the Jockey Club as his very finest performance. The 
 rare old General was in a great state of delight at his 
 second Oaks success, and sent a splendid pipe of port 
 
Sam Chifnzy. 95 
 
 from White's as a present to Will, who comforted 
 himself, as he sipped it, with the reflection that he 
 could not have had Sam to ride Wings for him, and 
 that no other disengaged jockey could have won on 
 her. Unrivalled as Sam's " fiery rush" has always been, 
 Will Chifney still said that his great races on the flat 
 were invariably won before the horses reached the 
 cords, and when the crowd knew nothing of it. As in 
 the case of Wings, it was his innate knowledge of pace 
 which enabled him, although seemingly beaten at the 
 start, to steal up inch by inch to his opponents, and 
 still, have the materials of a rush left in his horse when 
 they were close at home ; and his riding of Blooms- 
 bury and St. Francis were very brilliant specimens of 
 this peculiar style. 
 
 At this period both brothers were fast approaching 
 their zenith on the Turf, and well-known in the Thur- 
 low country, whose staunch master, Charles Newman, 
 in spite of the tempting proximity, could never be 
 drawn into blending the gorse with the Heath. Sam 
 was still on the right side of forty, and had won five 
 Oaks and two Derbies, and was installed in one of 
 the best houses in Newmarket. Mr. Thornhill's horses 
 had been under his charge since the autumn of Sam's 
 Derby year (1818), and Lord Darlington's horses came 
 to his stables in the following spring. Will, who 
 managed their training, refused every offer to enter 
 into an engagement, but kept himself clear and inde- 
 pendent of all employers, and stood what money he 
 liked about the horses. Mr. Thornhill was often 
 anxious to become Lord Darlington's confederate ; 
 but although he allowed Will to communicate with 
 him fully about his horses, his lordship had not for- 
 gotten his dispute with the Prince, and refused to run 
 such risks again. The Prince, too, had not forgotten 
 his old Chifney associations when, with Mr. Delme 
 Radcliffe as manager, and William Edwards as 
 trainer, he again appeared on the Turf in 1826, 
 
96 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 and he accordingly selected Sam to ride Dervise 
 for the Oatlands at the Ascot Meeting of the next 
 year. Taking one year with another His Majesty 
 had 20 seasons on the Turf, and won 313 races, 
 including I Derby, 30 King's Plates, and 10 Cups, 
 the value of which reached in all about 57,628 
 guineas. 
 
 When his growing days were past, Sam was a trifle 
 over five feet six inches, and fully an inch taller than 
 his father, but considerably shorter in the legs and 
 arms than his elder brother, who had nearly an inch 
 the advantage of him in height. He was a large but 
 still a light-boned man, and at the best of times a very 
 bad waster. At eighteen, /st. 7lbs. was the very 
 lowest weight he could scale, and as he soon walked 
 Qst. 7lbs. in the winter, 8st. 4lbs. became his nominal 
 lowest weight. As may be imagined, the weary weeks 
 before Epsom, Doncaster, and Ascot, when the 
 foolishly low racing scale of that day invariably called 
 upon him to boil two pounds more off his lean frame, 
 were looked forward to with no very pleasurable feel- 
 ings. Will was so fond of exercise, that he walked by 
 Priam's side nearly the whole way to Epsom, while 
 Sam loved the saddle quite as much because it was 
 not walking as for its own sake, and used to delay 
 going into physic, and putting on the sweaters, till so 
 near the day that he invariably found himself sadly 
 feverish when the task was done. Many were the ex- 
 hortations which Will Chifney used to give Robinson 
 and Harry Edwards (whom we can see sitting as of 
 yore, after half his walk was done ; smoking on a 
 corn-bin, and enveloped in horse-cloths), to take plenty 
 of exercise in the winter, and to act neither winter 
 nor summer as " that lazy Sam does." Both of them 
 were large-boned men, who stood in ample need of 
 such advice ; but with all his exertions, the weeks 
 before the Craven Meeting of 1837 were so co ^> tnat 
 Robinson could only just ride 8st. 7lbs., and Sam gave 
 
Sam Chifney. 97 
 
 up his wasting in utter despair, about three pounds 
 beyond it. His dislike of wasting did not, however, 
 interfere with his regular masters ; but unless he liked 
 the horse, he did not care to trouble himself for any- 
 one else, and by this indifference to his profession, he 
 lost hundreds of mounts. He was, in short, not a little 
 perverse on this point ; and when a riding retainer was 
 offered him by Lord Chesterfield, who merely wished 
 him to take the best mounts and leave the rest to 
 Conolly, he declined it, and thus missed winning some 
 of the finest prizes of the day. He had, however, 
 gallantly earned his spurs many years before he flung 
 this offer to the winds, and while he felt truly that his 
 fame would not suffer from lack of mounts, he felt still 
 less the necessity of laying by funds against an evil 
 day. The term " Old Screw" unfortunately had no 
 origin in his handling of money. Like his brother, 
 Will was also far too easy and open-handed in these 
 matters, and hence he had to mourn over many thou- 
 sands, which the short memories of losers and bor- 
 rowers deprived him of. "Pipes and Peace" was 
 Sam's creed, and his constitutional indolence was so 
 great, that he could often be hardly got on to the 
 Heath in the morning to ride important trials, even 
 when a favourite master like Lord Darlington was con- 
 cerned. Once for instance, when Memnon was 
 matched for 1000 guineas a side, against Lord Exeter's 
 colt Enamel (whose Two Thousand Guinea victory 
 caused his lordship and Mr. Tattersall to race by 
 proxy into Devonshire, and knock up her owner at 
 midnight to bid for the dam), he had arranged to meet 
 his brother at the Ditch stables. For two hours did 
 Will wait there with the horses, but no Sam, and he 
 accordingly mounted the winner of the St. Leger him- 
 self, and won the trial in a canter. " A pretty fellow 
 you are to bring me back this way without trying the 
 horses /" was Will's remark, when he met his brother 
 at his own stable-door ; and " No, no ! that wont do t 
 
 H 
 
98 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Will / know you too well to believe that you would 
 bring them back without having it out of them" was 
 the dry, good-humoured response. The result of 
 the conference was that a good stake was put on 
 Memnon, and Will won 650 guineas by his trial 
 mount. 
 
 As might have been expected in a man of his tem- 
 perament, Sam was slow to anger, and of few words. 
 He was never happier than when sauntering along, 
 gun in hand, and watching his favourite yellow-and- 
 white pointer, Banker, wriggling his stern down the 
 stubbles ; and this silent system was much more to his 
 mind than the " fast and furious " sport of which he 
 and his brother often partook with Mr. Thornhill 
 among the pheasant preserves of Riddlesworth. He 
 was a great cocker, and delighted in a breed of 
 " Vauxhall Clarke" game fowls, which he kept at his 
 seventy-acre Fidget Farm. This stud-farm was per- 
 fect of its kind, and situated about a mile and a 
 quarter from the town, at the extremity of the Bury- 
 hill gallop. It was here that he had a small planting, 
 regularly fenced with wire, and laid out with artificial 
 earths for his pet foxes ; and he would sit for hours 
 in a summer evening watching them come out to feed 
 and play. Many a gallant bagman drew his breath 
 in this little nook ; and when Lord Darlington visited 
 Newmarket (which he never did in the October meet- 
 ings), he generally went on there, not so much to look 
 over the young things, as to get a summer wind-scent 
 of the " Charlies," to keep his spirits up till he could 
 again throw his leather horn-belt across his shoulders, 
 and again enter in his diary that the " darling hounds 
 behaved like jewels" If the two Chifneys were not 
 well up with the jewels in some of their fastest things 
 across the Bedale country, it was not for the lack of 
 having the best mounts that his lordship's stables at 
 Newton House could afford, and they not unfre- 
 quently went on to stay at Raby, and look through 
 
Sam Chifney. 99 
 
 the racing stables. Even Sam's phlegmatic nature 
 enjoyed these Yorkshire outings quite as much, in 
 its way, as his brother's more mercurial one ; and 
 it is on record that, though he had no pretensions 
 to a voice, he would be worked up, at long intervals, 
 into taking his pipe out of his mouth, and chant- 
 ing right lustily, in honour of The Duke, the 
 chorus of " With my Ballymonoora the hounds of old 
 Raby for me" when it was once fairly set agoing in 
 his little snuggery, or in the chimney corner of his 
 favourite inn. 
 
 H 2 
 
100 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 GEORGE IV. 
 
 " Let the song that is borne on the echoes of June, 
 
 Whether sung by the Joneses or Coxes, 
 Still have this loyal burden, whatever the tune, 
 A good King ; Fleur-de-lis ; and good foxes. " 
 
 IT is not our intention to give more than an outline 
 of the frivolous, unsatisfactory scenes amid which 
 the lot of "George Guelph" was cast,-and which he 
 only too readily sanctioned. The historian will take 
 him as their reflex, and deal out a full and bitter 
 measure to him, for all that vice, heartlessness, and 
 flippancy which earned him his title of " Florizell." 
 Still, to give him his due, we are bound to mention 
 that the one man who had the best means of knowing, 
 steadily maintained the belief that the public sadly 
 maligned a titled beauty with whom his name has 
 been so studiously connected ; and that whatever 
 might have been the pride he felt in seeing her grace 
 his court, the two were never even alone together. 
 We have now simply to deal with him in the one 
 character, in which he pre-eminently shone, that of an 
 English sportsman, and only regret that he had not 
 ridden at least ten stone lighter. The Turf will 
 always reckon him amongst its most devoted lovers, 
 although it would be remarkably difficult to say from 
 whom he inherited the taste. His father never did 
 much more for it than give 100 guineas, to be run for 
 annually by horses that had been hunted with his two 
 
George IV. 101 
 
 packs ; and if the " ugliest woman in Europe" had 
 fully understood what it meant, it is probable that, 
 like the Glasgow Baillie, she would not have admitted 
 a rocking-horse into her nursery, "just for fear o' the 
 tendency." The Duke of York's devotion to it was 
 scarcely less marked than his brother's ; but the Duke 
 of Clarence, on the contrary, although he retained the 
 royal stud for a short time, and (" starting the whole 
 fleet," as he expressed it), ran first, second, and third 
 for the Goodwood Cup, with Fleur-de-lis, Zinganee, 
 and the Colonel, in the very year of his accession, 
 cared so little about it, that he was often seen to turn 
 his back on the horses while they were running at 
 Ascot. In fact, he liked George Nelson for his jockey 
 more for the sake of his nautical name than anything 
 else ; and he was much more in his element when he 
 went behind the scenes of Old Drury, and tied Jack 
 Bannister's black handkerchief for him before he rol- 
 licked on to the stage in his sailor part. This little 
 act is exactly illustrative of the graceful and yet dig- 
 nified bonhomie which the three royal brothers 
 always displayed towards those about them ; and 
 there is very little doubt that nothing but rank 
 jealousy of the popularity which the eldest acquired 
 by it, caused a few turf rivals to join in that dead set 
 which drove him in disgust from Newmarket. His 
 maiden turf career lasted for some seven seasons, 
 during which time he had several fair horses, Tot, Sir 
 Thomas, Anvil, Hardwicke, &c., and opened some- 
 what inauspiciously on May 8th, 1784, when he was 
 in his 22nd year. Hermit, lost. I lib., with 6 to 4 and 
 Mr. Panton on him, had to strike the royal colours in 
 a 50 sovereigns a side match over the last mile of the 
 beacon, with Surprise, lost. lib. (Sir H. Feather- 
 stone) ; but jockeys were substituted for gentlemen 
 riders in a second edition of the match, at the same 
 weights and distance, that afternoon, and although 
 the betting veered round to 2 to I on Surprise, the 
 
IO2 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 former verdict was reversed ! Uppark in Sussex was 
 a favourite race-meeting in that day, and in addition 
 to the Duke of Dorset and his brother, the names of 
 Featherstone, Lade, Lake, Hanger, Delme Radcliffe, 
 and Tarlton were never absent from its silken fray. 
 A 6o/. plate with Anvil over the D. I. in the autumn 
 of his maiden season was the first race which the 
 Prince ever won at Newmarket, and his stud, which 
 then only consisted of four or five, rose in 1790 to 
 forty-one ! Chifney senior had only ridden for him 
 about two seasons before the Escape affair, which took 
 place in 1791. The first sale of his stud at Tatter- 
 sail's was delayed till December 2nd of the following 
 year, and then the twenty-eight lots produced five 
 thousand guineas. Those who wonder now why the 
 Prince nobly chose rather to leave the turf altogether 
 than sacrifice his jockey, when Sir Charles Bunbury 
 intimated to him that no members of the Jockey Club 
 would make matches, or run horses in any stake where 
 Chifney rode, are not aware of what occurred with 
 Escape in the Ascot meeting of that year. It would 
 have been well if he had broken his fetlock in his year- 
 ling days, when he embedded it with a kick in the 
 wood work of his loose box, and caused his astonished 
 owner (Mr. Franco) to exclaim, when he heard the 
 story of his extrication from the groom " Oh, what 
 an escape!" and to christen him on the spot. Soon 
 after going into training he became a complete "rabbit" 
 in his running " in-and-out," and so delicate withal, 
 that in spite of all Neale's care, he seldom kept his 
 condition for many days together. To give a man 
 such a treacherous brute to steer, and then to con- 
 demn him because he could not always win upon him, 
 would, as the Prince felt, have been the height of 
 injustice. In the Ascot instance, to which we are 
 alluding, he had entered four horses in the Oatlands ; 
 to wit Escape, Baronet, Pegasus, and Smoker. 
 Some five days previous to the race, the four were 
 
George IV. 103 
 
 tried at the Oatlands distance and weights, and 
 Escape, with Chifney on him, won easily by three or 
 four lengths the rest running in as we have named 
 them. On the Sunday before the race, Chifney got 
 a message from the Prince to meet him at the stables 
 at four o'clock on Monday afternoon. The four 
 horses were looked over, and Chifney, the moment 
 the sheets were taken off Escape, begged the Prince's 
 permission to ride Baronet instead of him. Both 
 Neale and Mr. Warwick Lake protested against the 
 change, and declared that the horse was never better ; 
 while Chifney as strongly maintained that he had lost 
 his form so completely since the trial, that it was 
 impossible to win with him. The Prince very soon 
 settled the question, and not only decided that 
 Chifney should ride Baronet, but added " Whenever 
 I have two horses in a race, I wish you, Sam, to ride 
 the one you fancy most on the day, without consulting 
 us about it." The race was a severe one, but 
 Baronet won it, beating nineteen of the best horses 
 out, while Escape was absolutely "nowhere." The 
 King and Queen were present, with all their family, 
 to see it, and were not a little pleased when the Prince 
 told them the anecdote. Chifney 's picture was shortly 
 afterwards taken on this horse, by Stubbs ; and 
 Nimrod tells us in his immortal articles of "The 
 Turf, The Chase, and The Road," that the print still 
 occupied, in his time, the post of honour over the Old 
 Club chimney-piece at Melton, though a generation of 
 sportsmen had passed away, and the room had been 
 three times papered. 
 
 With the remembrance of this stable scene fresh in 
 his mind, it was no wonder that the Prince felt sure 
 that Chifney would never play him false ; and that 
 Chifney, more sorry for his royal master than himself, 
 bore the temporary blasting of his riding hopes with 
 such manly fortitude. The Prince was also endeared 
 to him for his long and consistent kindness ; and, in 
 
IO4 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 in truth, none but those who knew that royal sports- 
 man intimately, could at all comprehend the fascina- 
 tion which he exercised upon all who came in contact 
 with him. No man knew better, and was more careful 
 not to overstep the narrow line of demarcation 
 between condescension and familiarity ; and hence 
 none, save and excepting the incorrigible dealer, Mat 
 Milton, when he coolly proposed to him " the royal 
 treat" on horseback, dared to take a liberty with him,* 
 however great an opening there might seem to be. 
 Even amid the socialities of the Beef-steak Club, 
 which was enlarged from its chartered 24 to 25 for his 
 sake, he was still " the first gentleman in Europe." 
 With Chifney he was peculiarly gracious, and he 
 would often walk for hours with him on the Steyne, 
 at Brighton, or beckon to him to come and sit by his 
 side in his carriage. Music was nearly as much his 
 Dagon as a thoroughbred. He hung with delight 
 over Wilberforce, who was in his earlier days the life 
 and soul of York Races, and whose voice was as sweet 
 and powerful to his own piano accompaniment, as 
 when it had been heard and cheered to the cost of the 
 Coalition Ministry, by assembled thousands of York- 
 shiremen, from a platform-table in their Castle-yard ; 
 and no one regretted so deely that he should have 
 silenced his songs for conscience sake. His German 
 band is said to have cost him /ooo/. a-year ; and he 
 used to walk round and round them when they played 
 in private, and at times would take half a book with 
 the leader, and join lustily in one of Handel's choruses. 
 The late Sir Henry Bishop once came to hear them, 
 and did not care to be seen, as he was not in full 
 dress ; but the Prince merrily routed him out from 
 behind a screen, where he was drinking in the melody, 
 and bade the band strike up " The Chough and the 
 
 * Beau Brummell always denied, with the utmost indignation, the 
 story of " Wales, ring the dell." 
 
George IV. 105 
 
 Crow" in his honour. The Pavilion might be said to 
 be his head-quarters at this period, and " the volup- 
 tuous charms of her to whom he had in secret plighted 
 his faith" were then well known to every Sussex 
 gazer. Those who still remember her there, when in 
 the heyday of her beauty at forty, speak with no 
 small rapture of her stately well-rounded figure, her 
 deep blue eyes, and her long dark ringlets. She died 
 in the March of 1837, faithful to the last to the 
 memory of him who had shown himself so little worthy 
 of her love, and only three months before " The Sailor 
 King," with whom she was always an especial favoured 
 guest whenever he visited Brighton. " Perdita" had 
 sent the Prince a lock of her hair as a deathbed 
 memento of the forsaken ; while Mrs. Fitzherbert is 
 said to have addressed some touching lines to him 
 when his own hour was come, as from a wife offering 
 her services to a sick husband, which he did not 
 peruse without emotion ; and she held the pleasant 
 belief that he was buried with her portrait round his 
 neck. Dr. Carr in a measure confirmed this report, 
 when he was questioned by Mr. Bodenham, and re- 
 plied " Yes, it is true what you have heard. I re- 
 mained by the body of the King, when they wrapped 
 it round in the cerecloth ; but before that was done, 
 1 saw a portrait suspended round his neck it was 
 attached to a little silver chain." 
 
 Brighton will never see such picturesque Watteau- 
 like groups again, as those which were then presented 
 by the Prince's court, as it sallied forth from the 
 Pavilion, for the evening promenade on the Steyne ; 
 the ladies with their high head-dresses and spreading 
 " peacock tails," and the two Mannerses, Sir Belling- 
 ham Graham, and Colonels Mellish and Leigh, as 
 their esquires. Nothing but a dark black-legged bay 
 was in those days harnessed to the royal carriages, 
 and they were all chosen with the most scrupulous 
 care by Sir John Lade, whose four bays and harlequin 
 
io6 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 postilion liveries formed a turn-out very little inferior 
 to those over which he held sway at the Pavilion 
 stables. Sir John came of age in 1780, and his riches 
 and extravagance in that year were so notorious that 
 even Dr. Johnson wrote a poem on him, which he 
 repeated four years afterwards with unwonted spirit 
 to his attendants, as he lay on his own majestic 
 deathbed. Croker's edition, vol. viii. p. 414, gives the 
 seven stanzas at full length ; and it is not a little 
 quaint to find the great philosopher ironically exhort- 
 ing the great whip of that day to 
 
 " Call the Betseys, Kates, and Jennies, 
 All the names which banish care ; 
 Lavish of your grandsire's guineas, 
 Show the spirit of an heir ! 
 
 " Loosen'd from the minor's tether, 
 
 Free to mortgage or to sell, 
 Wild as wind and light as feather, 
 
 Bid the sons of thrift farewell," &c. &C. 
 
 The best pen-and-ink sketch of Brighton on a race 
 morning, when the Prince was in his meridian, and it 
 was crowded with "tandems, beautiful women, and 
 light hussars," is thus given in Raikes's Diary : 
 
 " In those days, the Prince made Brighton and Lewes Races the 
 gayest scene of the year in England. The Pavilion was full of guests, 
 and the Steyne was crowded with all the rank and fashion from London. 
 The ' legs' and bettors, who had arrived in shoals, used all to assemble 
 on the Steyne, at an early hour, to commence their operations on the 
 first day, and the buzz was tremendous, till Lord Foley and Mellish, 
 the two great confederates of that day, would approach the ring, and 
 then a sudden silence ensued, to await the opening of their books. They 
 would come on perhaps smiling, but mysteriously, without making any 
 demonstration. At last Mr. Jerry Cloves would say, ' Come, Mr. 
 Mellish, will you light the candle and set us agoing?' Then if the 
 Master of Buckle would say, ' I'll take three to one about Sir Solomon,' 
 the whole pack opened, and the air resounded with every shade of odds 
 and betting. About half an hour before the departure for the hill, the 
 Prince himself would make his appearance in the crowd. I think I see 
 him now, in a green jacket, a white hat, and light nankeen pantaloons 
 and shoes, distinguished by his high-bred manner and handsome person. 
 He was generally accompanied by the late Duke of Bedford, Lord 
 Jersey, Charles Wyndham, Shelley, Brummell, M. Day, Churchill, and 
 
George IV. 107 
 
 oh ! extraordinary anomaly ! the little old Jew Travis, who, like the 
 dwarf of old, followed in the train of royalty. The Downs were soon 
 covered with every species of conveyance, and the Prince's German 
 waggon and six bay horses (so were barouches called when first intro- 
 duced at that time) the coachman on the box being replaced by Sir 
 John Lade issued out of the gates of the Pavilion, and, gliding up the 
 green ascent, was stationed close to the Grand Stand, where it remained 
 the centre of attraction for the day. At dinner-time the Pavilion was 
 resplendent with lights, and a sumptuous banquet was furnished to a 
 large party ; while those who were not included in that invitation found 
 a dinner, with every luxury, at the Club-house on the Steyne, kept by 
 Raggett during the season, for the different members of White's and 
 Brookes's who chose to frequent it, and where the cards and dice from 
 St. James's-street were not forgotten. Where are the actors in all 
 those gay scenes now ?" 
 
 To get high-caste sportsmen round him was the 
 Prince's prime pleasure. Few can forget his graceful 
 introduction of General Lake to Mr. Lockley that 
 brave old rider, who seemed, like Lord Lynedoch, 
 almost ready to eat the fox, and went so well in a 
 run of an hour and forty minutes from Cheney's 
 Gorse, through Ranksboro' Gorse and Whissendine, 
 to Lord Harboro's, when he was upwards of seventy, 
 that "The Squire" twice took off his cap in the middle 
 of it, and gave him a rattling cheer. " General Lake, 
 let me introduce Mr. Lockley to you ; two men so 
 eminent in their lines ought to know each other," was 
 the Open Sesame of their evening's chat. Horses, and 
 everything connected with them, were his idols ; and 
 no man had a finer eye for them ; while the little 
 Norwegian dun pony, which at one time would run 
 about the rooms at the Royal Lodge, and sleep on the 
 rug before the fire, was far more precious in his eyes 
 than any dog, Hacks and hunters he never seemed 
 to tire of trying ; and hence the constant entreaty of 
 Mat Milton the dealer, who used to spend hours with 
 him in the stable-yard adjoining Carlton House viz., 
 to " throw your thigh over him, Your Highness, and 
 you'll find him to be the sweetest goer you ever 
 mounted" was invariably responded to. Hunting, to 
 a man who stood not very much short of six feet, and 
 
io8 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 latterly weighed more than 23st, was of course out of 
 the question ; but when he was able to don his blue 
 coat with gilt buttons, and topboots, and buckskins, 
 after the fashion of the bucks of those days, he cared 
 very little what Milton or anyone else chose to ask 
 for a clever hack. It used to be a saying of the period 
 in Brighton, that, heavy as he was, " he rode so well 
 that he never soiled his nankeens," but the exact 
 meaning oi the remark is too deep for us. He was 
 more fortunate than the late Mr. Thornhill, who was 
 as nearly as possible his weight, and gave up riding on 
 the Heath at Newmarket, " not because I can't get a 
 horse to carry me, but because 1 can't get a horse to 
 stand still under me ; " as his hacks, Tiger and To- 
 bacco-Stopper, carried him to perfection. Of the 
 former, when he was at last told that his legs were so 
 unsafe, through age, that he was certain to come down 
 with him, he remarked " No, no ! Tiger scorns to 
 fall down ; " while the latter was, strange to say, 
 the lightest horse below the knee in the whole of 
 his stud. 
 
 Asparagus and Curricle did all that pluck and 
 muscle could do under his weight, when he hunted 
 with Mr. Villebois in Hampshire ; and the Prince's 
 Feathers are still preserved on the buttons of the 
 H.H. When he gave up Kempshot Park, the Duke 
 of Richmond's hounds were purchased and installed 
 in the Ascot kennels, and the yellow-pied Minos 
 was its most favoured occupant. Still race-horses and 
 the Hampton Court paddocks lay nearest to his heart. 
 Arabs used to be perpetually arriving there from 
 Eastern donors, and one Bassora sent him a mare and 
 sire of the CEil Nugdy breed, with a certificate that 
 the blood had been preserved stainless ior 300 years. 
 Jack Ratford used to declare, on his honour, that he 
 talked about nothing else in his sleep, and even his 
 physicians said that " it was all horses horses with 
 him, by night and by day, to the very last." If he 
 
George IV. 109 
 
 liked a racer, he was perfectly lavish as to price ; and 
 when, on his last return to the turf, William Chifney 
 bid up Pucelle, the grandam of Virago, and then a 
 brood mare, to noo guineas, for Lord Darlington, at 
 Lord H. Fitzroy's sale, he received a hint that it was 
 no use going on, as Mr. Delme Radcliffe had instruc- 
 tions from the King to buy her at any price. Still he 
 was not always able to get all he wanted, even in 
 horseflesh ; and the late Sir Fowell Buxton, for 
 reasons which he never cared to conceal, sturdily re- 
 fused to listen to his 1000 guineas offer for his park 
 horse John Bull. He had one peculiarity as regards 
 money that he was most liberal with it as long as he 
 did not see it. Cheques he would sign away to any 
 amount ; even 39<D/. for " Pea-Green Haynes's " dress- 
 ing-box seemed as nothing in that form ; but when he 
 had a fifty-pound note in his pocket, it was a bitter 
 pang to him to spend five pounds of it. If he had 
 paid the bills every Saturday night, those Carlton 
 House banquets, which saddened the heart of Romilly 
 as he sat and thought of the haggard and iron-bound 
 fact of distress from Land's End to John o'Groat's ; 
 and the building of the Royal Lodge, which so roused 
 the indignation of the press and the people, and 
 brought down Mr. Whitbread, M.P., in a severe Hamp- 
 den mood, all the way from the House of Commons 
 to Windsor for a survey would have very soon been 
 discontinued, and peradventure the especial capabilities 
 of Virginia Water would have been still unknown. As 
 it was, these woodland haunts served to delight him 
 when, as a great Edinburgh reviewer wrote to his 
 friend, " he was fat, nervous, and lazy," and " arthritic 
 tyranny " had acquired its deadly dominion over his 
 limbs and spirits. 
 
 The year after he returned to the turf (1827), he 
 renewed his acquaintance with the Chifneys, by his 
 Dervise retainer to Sam, and followed it up by send- 
 ing special messages to both of them after Wednes- 
 
1 10 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 day's races, to meet him at the Swinley Mile-post, 
 and let him see Lord Darlington's Memnon, who was 
 to take a gentle canter at four o'clock, previous to 
 running for the Cup next day. When all the com- 
 pany had gone, His Majesty drove up to the tryst, 
 with the Marquis of Conyngham in the pony phaeton 
 by his side, and his factotum, Jack Ratford, on an 
 Irish mare behind. Jack reigned supreme in the 
 Royal household to the last, and many got an audi- 
 ence through his agency, who otherwise might have 
 waited in vain. He had been a lad in Dick Goodisson's 
 stables, and was thence promoted to be pad-groom to 
 " Old Q," who insisted to the last that he should lead 
 the horses about daily from twelve to three, in front 
 of his house in Piccadilly, that he might still have the 
 pleasure of fancying that he was going to take a ride. 
 He knew all the Duke's ways, and the latter repaid 
 his care by leaving him his coach-horses and several 
 of the things in his London house, besides recom- 
 mending him to the King, who kept him a cab, while 
 he was in his service. 
 
 His royal master had well kept his 1791 vow, that 
 he would visit Newmarket Heath no more, and from 
 that time to the day of his death, he only once viewed 
 its white ghost-like posts and venerable rubbing- 
 houses, as he swept along the London road, after 
 sleeping all night at the Palace, in Mr. Douglas's time, 
 on his return from a visit at Holkham. It was there- 
 fore with great difficulty that Mr. Delme Radcliffe 
 now got him to train his horses there, on representing 
 to him that they got bruised at Ascot ; but Jack had 
 seconded the proposition with no little earnestness, as 
 his heart yearned to bear his part in some Newmarket 
 visits. Still, although the King chose to forget .his 
 gracious answer to the Jockey Club address at 
 Brighton, in which they begged him to return to the 
 haunts of his youth, and " earnestly entreated that the 
 affair might be buried in oblivion," he felt an immense 
 
George IV. 1 1 1 
 
 interest in everything that concerned the Heath ; and 
 when, on this occasion, Memnon had cantered past 
 him, with Sam "up," he rattled away with" Well, 
 William, how are you all going on at Newmarket ? 
 How's Pratt ? does he still feed his horses on potatoes ? 
 He's Irish, too, is my friend here" (pointing with an 
 arch look to the Marquis) ; and then, with a melan- 
 choly thought of old times, he added " I wish I was 
 among yon again, William ; but I am very happy here ; 
 I've everything to make me so I've my hunters, and 
 my hounds (motioning with his whip to the Royal 
 Kennels), and my racers again, and Virginia Water 
 and the Lodge ; but the old enemy" and he shook his 
 head as he glanced at his large lace-boot. He had no 
 idea of beating Memnon with Mortgage the next day, 
 as the latter was a very middling animal, and was 
 shortly afterwards turned into a hack in the Pimlico 
 stables. Memnon also retired quite worn out before 
 another Ascot Cup day ; but at present the King was 
 anxious to make a match between him and Fleur-de- 
 lis, whom he had just purchased from Sir Matthew 
 White Ridley, for 2000 guineas. This idea came to 
 nothing, as the Chifneys had never a very exalted idea 
 of Memnon in his best day, and Lord Darlington was 
 too good a judge to make a match when the horse 
 was beginning to lose all form, with one of the very 
 finest mares that ever looked through a bridle. But 
 for her tumble at the Intake turn, it is very probable 
 that she would have beaten him in the St. Leger ; 
 and as it was, she got so much in the way of The 
 Alderman, who was gradually stealing to the fore, 
 that Sam was obliged to chuck him up in his stride to 
 prevent his falling over her, and only finished a fair 
 second. The mare had had another tumble in running 
 against Longwaist (for whom 3000 guineas had just 
 been refused), for the Silver Tureen, at Manchester, 
 two or three weeks before the purchase, and the King 
 was very desirous to match her against this crack as 
 
1 1 2 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 well. This subject, of course, was discussed, and the 
 King declared that he would write proposals forthwith 
 to Mr. Nowell, for a 1000 guineas aside match, at 
 Ascot, the next year. " Sam, you shall ride her!' he 
 added, as that jockey got off Memnon, and joined his 
 brother at the phaeton side. "Run them at New- 
 market, your Majesty!" chimed in the ever-wakeful 
 Jack ; but " No, no ! William, they treated your poor 
 father and me very badly ; I wont run there" was all 
 the response he received to his officious suggestion. 
 Jack having thus thrust himself into the conversation, 
 was made to furnish a little sport in his turn, and told 
 to canter his mare. Away they went the mare gaily 
 cocking her tail, and Jack leaning forward in his 
 stirrups, to the intense amusement of the four ; and 
 when he was fairly out of earshot, the King began 
 with " There's a nice mare look at Jack, too, hoiv he 
 sticks himself out ; he thinks he can ride quite as well 
 as you, Sam'.' Just as he was going, he added, " You 
 must both look in at the Castle on Friday, and I'll 
 show you a hunter the very image of a horse we had at 
 Albury Park, when you were both little fellows with 
 your uncle there ;" and so saying, he shook them by 
 the hand, and laughingly bade Sam to " have a little 
 mercy on my poor Mortgage to-morrow'.' This was the 
 last private interview the brothers ever had with the 
 King, and it formed an appropriate pleasant close to 
 their then five-and-thirty years' recollections of him, 
 which dated from the day they sat at Newmarket, one 
 on each knee, and then ran to show their mother the 
 guineas he had given them. 
 
 Ascot, in those days, was the delight of the King's 
 heart, and for three or four years before his death, he 
 had two meetings annually, at a week's interval. In 
 1825, he came for the first time in the royal procession 
 up the New Mile, Lord Maryborough leading the van, 
 and sitting his horse as few men at his age could do, 
 while Mr. Jenner received the cortege at the Stand. 
 
George IV. 113 
 
 The Bow-street officers, Townsend and Sayres, who 
 were especially attached to royalty, kept their Argus- 
 eyes open, and the former sported a hat exactly 
 similar to the celebrated one which his royal master 
 mvariably wore. Its brim was not very broad, but 
 the rim of it was very large, and the band in propor- 
 tion. Townsend pushed the resemblance to the far- 
 thest point, and therefore wore it a little on one side ; 
 but his worth was so great, that this curious bit of 
 affectation was overlooked. He died very rich, at the 
 age of 73, during the fatal cholera season of 1832, 
 leaving the Court Circular, which was established at 
 his suggestion, "to prevent the public inventing 
 falsehoods, by giving them something real to talk 
 about," as a monument for all time to his memory. 
 The wags would have it that he bought his hats at a 
 high price, and second-hand, from Jack Ratford, under 
 the same idea of inspiration which incited Captain 
 Barclay to secure the fighting-leathers of the lion- 
 hearted Jackson. This modern Eryx also stood very 
 high in the favour of the King, who was an ardent 
 believer in English beef, bottom, and boxing, and he 
 confided to him the selection of the twelve pugilists 
 who kept the Abbey doors at his coronation. " Prince 
 Lascelles" had also in earlier times carried his imita- 
 tion to such a height, that Fox, Sheridan, and Wynd- 
 ham, all members of Brookes's (the club which the 
 Prince especially delighted in), prevailed on the latter 
 to hide his queue in the collar of his coat, when he met 
 him ; and the result was, that he immediately rushed 
 home and had his own cut off. 
 
 Once fairly on the turf again, the King entered 
 into it with as great interest as ever. Sam Chifney 
 rode for him at intervals, but had not a regular en- 
 gagement, as Robinson, Dockeray, Nelson, and Pavis 
 enjoyed during the time. Robinson, on his beautiful 
 mare Maria, was, in his eyes, a perfect picture ; 
 and they looked as well together as Nat on Lady 
 
 I 
 
1 14 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Wildair in more rectnt days. He cared but little what 
 price he gave for racers. Jour-de-Noces came into 
 his hands at 1500 guineas, and 1500 guineas more 
 if he won the St. Leger ; and a 3000 guinea cheque, 
 with contingencies, would soon have found its way 
 into Colonel King's bank, if he would only have sold 
 Bessy Bedlam before the St. Leger, for which she 
 was beaten off at the Red House. When that race 
 was over, his affections had veered towards Fleur-de- 
 lis, and thus Bessy lived and died in her native Lin- 
 colnshire. The Colonel (whose colt out of Fleur-de-lis 
 hardly lived two hours) was his most expensive pur- 
 chase ; but 4000 guineas did not stand in his way 
 when he was determined to win the Ascot Cup, and 
 present it to the pride of nis court. Zinganee was, 
 however, destined to foil him, and Lord Chesterfield, 
 who had made an offer for the horse after he had 
 won the Oatlands on the Tuesday, not only men- 
 tioned the negotiation to him at the Castle that even- 
 ing, but gracefully expressed his readiness to break 
 it off, and not be in any way the instrument of de- 
 priving him of a trophy on which he had evidently 
 set his heart "My dear Chesterfield, never mind T 
 was the frank, jovial answer " buy the Chifneys' 
 horse by all means ; if you don't beat me with him, Gtdly 
 will ; and I don't mind being beaten by you'' The 
 purchase was accordingly made, and as the Chifneys 
 predicted, The Colonel could not live the pace, which 
 became very strong, when Sam " sent out " Zinganee 
 in the last half-mile ; and we may observe how truly 
 the second place of Mr. Gully's Mameluke bore out 
 the King's after-dinner prophecy. After a very poor 
 career in Lord Chesterfield's hands, Zinganee even- 
 tually became the King's property, for, it was said, 
 2500 guineas ; but he was too ill to see him run for 
 the Ascot Cup in the following year. Lord Dar- 
 lington had nothing in it ; and Sam Chifney received 
 a message from the King that he was to settle 
 
George IV. 115 
 
 whether Fleur-de-lis, or The Colonel, or Zinganee, or 
 all started, and to ride which he liked. He accord- 
 ingly chose Zinganee ! but the horse was so light, 
 and wasted on the day, that he was quite unable to 
 make a shadow of a fight, and was a bad last to 
 Lucetta. His royal owner was then on his death- 
 bed, and had he ever risen from it, there is no doubt 
 that he would have given the Chifneys their price, 
 3500 guineas, for Priam, after the Derby, and made 
 a last St. Leger effort. Still, ill as he was, he felt 
 so anxious about the result, that he sent Jack Rat- 
 ford specially over to Epsom, charging him to come 
 back express with the news, the instant the horses 
 had passed the post. The love of the sport was with 
 him to the very last ; and, as far as royalty is con- 
 cerned, with him it seems to have died. Hence, 
 despite all his faults, real turfites can never think 
 of him but with deep pleasure, and wish that in 
 these more degenerate days of light-weights and 
 handicaps, they could see fewer money-grubbing 
 propensities among our Chiefs at the Corner, and 
 more frequent glimpses of the genuine racing spirit 
 which pervaded their sires on those Heath afternoons 
 of old, when 
 
 " The Royal heart of Wales was there, 
 Still mshing to the front." 
 
 The Duke of York, Colonel Hellish, and "Beau 
 Brummell," were each an epitome in themselves. 
 Brummell used often to be a guest along with the 
 Duke of York when the Duke of Rutland kept court 
 at Cheveley Park during the race meetings, and had a 
 bedroom sacred to him both there and at Belvoir. 
 He generally dressed for the course in a tight green 
 shooting-coat, leathers, and topboots, and was rather 
 a carriage man than one of the regular Newmarket 
 Cavalry, with whom he every now and then indulged 
 in a bet, just to keep up a wholesome excitement, 
 
 I 2 
 
1 1 6 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 and be in the fashion. He was, m fact, a mere kid- 
 glove sportsman, and kept a few hunters at the 
 Peacock, near Belvoir, and subsequently at Grantham ; 
 but his stud-groom, Fryatt, had the lion's share of 
 the riding, and if he did cross a few fields, it was only 
 to get to a good farm-house, where he could indulge 
 his inordinate appetite for bread and cheese. His 
 pleasantries were the salt of the Cheveley battues, but 
 he is not remembered to have shot much more than a 
 brace of tame pigeons, right and left, on a house-top, 
 as the spoils of the morning were being counted over. 
 Those were the days when he could really play 
 the magnifico, and 
 
 " Threaten at times, in a superfine passion, 
 To cut Wales, and bring the old King into fashion ;" 
 
 or think that a creditor had ample " value received" 
 for a 5<DO/. loan, because he had hailed him with, 
 " How do you do, Jemmy ?" from the door-step of 
 the crack club in St. James's-street. Byron's return 
 of the great race of European celebrites, when he 
 was at his very zenith, was Brummell (i), Napoleon 
 (2), self (3) : and the winner was the survivor of the 
 only three that were placed, dipping, thanks to the 
 kindness of a few old friends who never deserted 
 him, his biscuit de Rheims in maraschino to the last ; 
 and writing, from his Calais lodgings, to Lord Sefton, 
 to say that he was " grinning through the bars of a 
 prison, and eating bran bread ; think of that, my 
 Lord bran bread !" 
 
 The Duke of York was almost as much attached 
 to Newmarket as his royal brother, and trained with 
 Butler for a time at the Palace Stables, till William 
 Edwards brought the stud of " Fee ! Fi ! Faw ! Fum !" 
 (as the Heath wags termed the King) thither from 
 Ascot. In personal appearance and manners he was 
 a true Guelph, and seen to greatest perfection at 
 the head of a table. The quaint old toast of " I 
 
George IV. 117 
 
 drink to Cardinal Puff" may be said to have died 
 with him, and perhaps there is hardly a man alive 
 who would know how to propose it with all its intri- 
 cate but graceful honours. Thomas Goodisson was 
 his favourite jockey, and won the Derby for him by 
 a head on Moses, after making his own running 
 nearly all the way. He had carried off this race 
 six years before, with Prince Leopold, who was such 
 a bad-tempered animal that he was placed in Sche- 
 dule G next season, and died in consequence. His 
 Highness got well on him at all prices from 30 to 20 
 to i, and won about 8ooo/. over the race. The fancy 
 of the Duchess was dogs and monkeys, and she 
 is said to have had nearly a hundred favourites of 
 the kind at Oatlands, which had a small cemetery 
 especially devoted to their remains. This dog expe- 
 rience did not always avail her husband, as, to his 
 great sorrow, he once shot the Duke of Rutland's 
 liver-coloured Venus dead at a Cheveley battue, under 
 the same hare delusion which made Professor Sedg- 
 wick fire fourteen times in one afternoon at a keeper's 
 gaiters. 
 
 Nearly thirty years before his Moses victory, the 
 Duke made his celebrated Northern visit, in company 
 with the Prince of Wales, who had the satisfaction of 
 seeing Sir Thomas (his Derby victor of the preceding 
 year) and Tot win three races over Rawcliffe Ings. 
 Such days of pleasure and nights of revelry have 
 never since wakened up the sober old capital of the 
 Tykes ; and even " The Farren" never received the 
 plaudits of a more brilliant assembly than that which 
 crowded the boxes of its dingy little theatre to wit- 
 ness her Beatrice. And yet the festivities of Old Ebor 
 paled before those of Wentworth House. Twenty 
 thousand spectators ate their fill, and drank eighty 
 hogsheads of ale in the Park ; bonfires turned night 
 into day in its avenues ; ten thousand coloured lamps 
 gleamed in its corridors, and the quiet card parties at 
 
1 1 8 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Doncaster might well nigh have heard the ringing 
 shout, as the Prince, with the present Earl Fitzwilliam 
 in his arms, stepped forth into the portico, and gave 
 " The King's Health," " Happiness to the People," 
 and "Prosperity to the Manufactures of Yorkshire," 
 as his toast, through a speaking-trumpet. Tot's Don- 
 caster Cup victory formed a sporting finale to the 
 visit, in the course of which Traveller was added to 
 the royal string for 1500 guineas. 
 
 The Duke's stud of thirty-two animals, including 
 seven hacks and ten grey ponies, was brought to the 
 hammer on February 5th, 1827, just three months 
 from the date of his death. The Duke of Richmond 
 gave 1 100 guineas for Moses, who was very beautiful 
 in every point except his feet, which were sadly in- 
 firm ; while Mr. Payne bought Figaro, who had run 
 Moses in for the Derby, at 200 guineas more. The 
 King also gave 560 guineas for Rachael ; but racers, 
 hacks, carriages, and dogs, only produced 8804 
 guineas a mere molehill, compared with the Skid- 
 daw-like pile of debts which he left behind him. 
 Rundell and Bridge, his jewellers, had such an ac- 
 count, that Cape Breton was ceded to them in lieu of 
 it by the Government of the day ; and his taste in 
 their line may be judged of by the fact that his rifle, 
 which brought fifty guineas, had a gold pan and 
 touch-hole. 
 
 Nimrod has dashed off Colonel Mellish's whole 
 contour with such a masterly hand, that our own 
 touches would seem clownish after it. We will there- 
 fore simply add that that quick-looking, pale-faced, 
 and black-haired " Crichton" measured 5 feet 10 in- 
 ches, and weighed list. ;lbs. He was no Sir Fopling 
 Flutter, either in dress or mind ; and his friend, the 
 late Earl of Scarboro', was never more delighted than 
 when he heard him set two disputatious young Oxford 
 divines right, over the Sandbeck dinner-table, about 
 the whereabouts of a certain passage in Livy. His 
 
George IV. 119 
 
 wonderful talents stood him in good stead in the 
 Peninsular War, where he was on the Duke of Wel- 
 lington's staff, and at times entrusted with the draw- 
 ing up of despatches. He had gained some little ex- 
 perience of bloodshed at home, as in 1807 he fought 
 a duel with Martin Hawke, in a field by the roadside, 
 as they were returning in their drags from the York- 
 shire election. On this occasion he was wounded near 
 the elbow joint, and on perceiving it he immediately 
 ran up to his opponent, and said, " Hang it, Hawke, 
 you've winged me ; but give me your hand" They 
 were great rival whips, and some ill blood on the 
 point, as well as election matters, brought about this 
 extempore determination to resort to thirty paces and 
 the saw-handles. About this time he also got up a 
 prize-fight at Blyth Whitewater, Mr. Gully doing duty 
 as bottle-holder. His fighting dog "Jack" won no 
 less than 104 battles ; and when Lord Camelford was 
 very pressing to buy him, it was agreed between them 
 to pay for him by weight. He was accordingly put 
 into the scales after a hearty meal of tripe, and was 
 found to weigh 42lbs. ; but it was thought derogatory 
 to barter such a piece of gallant stuff for coin, and 
 hence a gun and a case of pistols, which were valued 
 at eighty-four guineas, formed the medium of ex- 
 change. The way in which he trained his pig to run 
 a match, by feeding it at a certain trough, which he 
 chose for the goal, was especially characteristic ; and 
 anything connected with a race, if it were but two 
 rival drops of rain on a window-pane, he loved beyond 
 compare. As a gentleman rider he also excelled, but 
 his great delight was to " put up" Buckle as often as 
 he could, though he chose the wrong horse for him 
 (Sir Launcelot) in Staveley's St. Leger. He called 
 one of his fillies Miss Buckle, but Luck's-all was the 
 best animal he ever had in his stud, which could also 
 boast of winners in Quid, Stockton, Little Joey, Peter, 
 and Off-she-goes. At the close of 1807 he left the 
 
1 20 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Turf, but luck attended him in his last 500 guineas 
 matches, as his opponent's horse (Warrior) broke 
 down while winning in the first, and Lord Darlington 
 paid to him with Trafalgar (who had beaten Mr. 
 Watt's Shuttlecock in a 1000 guineas match that year) 
 in the second. He had, however, long passed his meri- 
 dian when he kept open house for a fortnight at Blyth 
 Hall, on the occasion of the Prince of Wales and the 
 Duke of Clarence's Yorkshire visit in 1806. Even 
 then the title-deeds had departed from him, in spite 
 of Sancho's and Staveley's St. Leger victories in the 
 two preceding years, and he only kept possession of 
 the Hall by virtue of a friendly stipulation to that 
 effect. It was a " finish" in every sense of the word, 
 and the Prince was said to be the only one who 
 walked up to bed without help each night. The little 
 table on which the two flirted long and deeply, with 
 the elephant's tooth, is still preserved as a relic in 
 Doncaster ; and when this melancholy wake of his 
 departed treasure had ceased, Hellish turned his back 
 on Blyth, and resided, whenever he was in the coun- 
 try, at Hodsack Priory, a portion of his estate which 
 was entailed. Shortly afterwards he married, and 
 devoted himself principally to farming and shorthorns, 
 a pursuit in which the late Charles Champion, of 
 Blyth, a very famous breeder, was his principal 
 Mentor. Mr. Rudd, the vicar of Hodsack, was also 
 very intimate with him, and, as far as the eye of 
 man could scan him, no one tried more earnestly or 
 prayerfully to atone in maturer years for the follies 
 of his spring. His hour-glass had, however, nearly 
 run out, and he died in 1818 of pulmonary con- 
 sumption, when he had barely reached his thirty-sixth 
 birthday. 
 
121 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 LORD DARLINGTON AND MR. THORNHILL. 
 
 " Lately passing o'er Barnsdale, I happened to spy 
 A fox stealing on, with the hounds in full cry : 
 'Tis Darlington, sure, for his voice I well know, 
 Crying ' Forward ! hark forward !' for Skelbrook below. 
 With my Ballymoonoora, 
 The hounds of old Raby for me !" 
 
 A LTHOUGH Lord Darlington's heart was so 
 jL\. truly with his "spotted darlings," as to justify 
 Mr. "Antonio" Ferguson's regular remark to those 
 who visited his pleasant wayside inn, that " his lord- 
 ship never looks like himself after these London visits 
 till he's had a bit of fox-hunting," we shall give no 
 sketch of him in scarlet here. Is it not dashed off to 
 the life in the pages of " The Chase," and engraved 
 in the memory of Bedale sportsmen ? We are about 
 to deal with him, not as he appeared with an em- 
 broidered fox on his collar, and his horn at the saddle- 
 bow, waving his hounds into Gatherley Moor, but as 
 he was known to every lover of the Heath, quietly 
 cantering towards the Ditch stables, with Sam and 
 Will Chifney on either side of him. He was born in 
 the same year as Frank Buckle ; and, although he 
 only died in February, 1 842, at the age of seventy- 
 six, he had begun to run horses in 1794. Hence, even 
 in 1827, he seemed to feel so acutely, when he visited 
 Newmarket, that 
 
 " Well-a-day ! his date was fled : 
 His sporting brethren all were dead I" 
 
1 2 2 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 that he hardly cared to join the party at the Club- 
 rooms in the evening. However, he found his way 
 there, for the first time after a long interval, during 
 the Craven Meeting of that year, and after matching 
 Memnon against Enamel, with Lord Exeter, knocked 
 up Will Chifney, about twelve at night, to learn his 
 opinion of this 1000 guineas A. F. venture. Four 
 thousand guineas had been refused for Memnon 
 before the St. Leger ; and the Chifneys generally 
 believed that his lordship gave something like 3000 
 guineas for him. He was a long, loose, big, and 
 leggy horse, and supposed to be game a point on 
 which the brothers Chifney always considered that 
 Bill Scott had overrated him. He had, nevertheless, 
 run remarkably well in the hands of the latter, as he 
 defeated The Alderman, after a desperate punishing 
 race, in the Champagne ; carried off the York Spring 
 Leger cleverly ; and came in three lengths ahead of 
 thirty, the largest field that ever showed at the St. 
 Leger post. The tumble of Fleur-de-lis, and the 
 consequent disappointment of The Alderman, con- 
 tributed greatly to this last result ; but the elegant 
 Actaeon, who was third, defeated him in the following 
 August, for a Subscription Purse, over Knavesmire, 
 in one of the very finest finishes ever ridden there. 
 The race was over the Old Two-mile Course ; but it 
 was only run in earnest three-quarters of a mile, which 
 suited Harry Edwards, who knew that his horse could 
 go the fastest, to a nicety, and enabled him to defeat 
 Sam's terrific rush by a bare head, when he brought 
 Memnon, with a stroke of the whalebone, which might 
 have been heard to Bishopthorpe, in the last three 
 strides from the chair. "By Jove, Sam's nailed 
 him r was the ecstatic expression of Will at this 
 moment, as he fairly sprang into the air, from the 
 form outside the weighing-house, nearly upsetting 
 the present Tommy Shepherd and a group of York- 
 shire jocks in his descent Lord Darlington was so 
 
Lord Darlington and Mr. Thornhill. 123 
 
 convinced that his "waiting" orders to Sam were 
 wrong, that he immediately challenged Lord Glasgow 
 to run him, at the same weights, for a thousand 
 guineas a side over Doncaster. His offer was, however, 
 declined, although the subsequent running of both 
 the horses with Florismart, there, showed that there 
 was very little between them. Early in 1827, Mem- 
 non left the Raby training stables for Newmarket, 
 and arrived at the Chifneys' along with Abron, who 
 had been purchased for 450 guineas at Mr. Russell's 
 sale, on purpose to lead gallops for him. In the 
 Ascot Cup of that year, he triumphed over some 
 very mean opponents ; but at Doncaster he fell before 
 the prowess of Fleur-de-lis (a fine lengthy mare, with 
 well-let-down quarters and big hips), and then ran a 
 dead heat with her for second place in the Cup to 
 Mulatto, when Actaeon, Starch, Longwaist, and Tar- 
 rare figured among the glorious slain. The Craven 
 Meeting of 1828 saw him give in, dead beat, at the 
 Turn of the Lands, in the Oatlands, and the turf 
 knew him no more. He returned to Raby as a stud- 
 horse, for a few seasons, before he crossed the 
 Atlantic ; but King Cole was the only winner of 
 note that he left behind him. 
 
 Memnon was far from being a solitary instance of 
 Lord Darlington's fancy for high-priced horses ; arid, 
 as is invariably the case, the bloom was off the peach 
 before it came into his hands, and nothing but disap- 
 pointment was the result. In short, he carried his 
 whim to such a height, that he is said to have in- 
 vested the half of a 2O,ooo/. lottery prize, which he 
 had shared with Mr. Heeley, in four or five horses, 
 which hardly produced him as many shillings in 
 stakes. No one, too, could ever tell why he set his 
 mind on Mr. Batson's Serab ; and Will Chifney in 
 vain endeavoured to impress on him that the horse 
 was a clumsy, unsatisfactory animal, who was only 
 overrated because his owner knew his form to a 
 
124 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 nicety, and did not choose to inform the public of it 
 by being provoked into a match. His lordship 
 nibbled at the purchase for weeks ; and after having 
 his offer of 2600 guineas refused, he boldly sent a 
 cheque for 3000 guineas, and was soon so disgusted 
 with his purchase, that, although Sam screwed him 
 in before Lottery for the King's Purse at York, and 
 got him second to Bizarre for the Ascot Cup, he posi- 
 tively gave him away to a foreign nobleman ! Even- 
 tually he found his way to America, along with Bare- 
 foot, whose price was 2500 guineas. This son of 
 Tramp was barely 15 J hands, with thighs and legs 
 like a waggon-horse ; and his noble owner was long 
 playfully reminded of his wretched bargain by the 
 sight of Sir Bellingham Graham's cover-hack, who 
 was so completely his fac-simile, both as regarded 
 shape and white stockings, that he was duly chris- 
 tened after him. So high was the opinion which 
 Lord Darlington formed of this chestnut after his 
 double race for the St. Leger, in the harlequin colours, 
 that he forwarded an ineffectual 2000 guineas a side 
 match challenge to Mr. Udney, the next November, 
 to run his Derby winner Emilius, over the Flat, in the 
 First Spring. Barefoot had a strange trick of rearing 
 whenever he was brought out of the stable ; the con- 
 sequence of which was, that ere Easter arrived he had 
 a sad pair of broken knees. Three years before that, 
 his lordship had sent Will Chifney to York, to make 
 a 2000 guineas bid for St. Patrick, in case he liked 
 him ; but Will descried the erring joint which subse- 
 quently gave way, and would not make the bid. 
 Tamboff, Trustee, and Emancipation, all of whom he 
 bought for about 2000 guineas apiece, were also 
 among his other long-priced nags, whose luck was 
 very little better; and he gave 1500 guineas for 
 Liverpool, after he had defeated Chorister at Don- 
 caster. He also purchased Wat Tyler, for a very 
 long price, from Mr. Thornhill, when he was a year- 
 
Lord Darlington and Mr. Thornhill. 125 
 
 ling ; and such was his strange prejudice against 
 Priam, that he candidly said he " could not bear the 
 horse," and not only lost /ooo/. about him for the 
 Derby, but backed Wat very heavily for that event. 
 The two were never put together either in private or 
 in the race, as Wat broke down at Mickleham, a few 
 days previous, and it was all Crockford could do to 
 get off Lord Darlington's money. The faulty leg 
 which gave way had been a source of uneasiness for 
 some time, and began from the very smallest pea-like 
 spot, on a small tendon, that ever fell under veteri- 
 nary eyes. The Chifneys examined it anxiously 
 morning after morning, and could hardly persuade 
 themselves that it boded such deep mischief. Swiss 
 was also another of his lordship's expensive 2500- 
 guinea fancies. Bill Scott had won the Champagne 
 as far as possible with him, as his owner (Peirse, of 
 Richmond) wanted to sell him, in consequence of his 
 Derby nomination becoming void by Lord Claren- 
 don's death. Colonel Cradock, who had the refusal 
 of him, and also trained with Peirse, pressed his lord- 
 ship very much to buy him, but Will Chifney was 
 very much against the purchase, and took care that 
 his lordship should see the horse before he had been 
 out in the morning, in order that he might not " walk 
 fine." Eventually, declining the Colonel's offer to 
 stand half, Lord Darlington bought the horse out- 
 right, and had the mortification of seeing him break 
 down so seriously on the near fore-tendon (which was 
 slightly enlarged) in his next gallop, that it was not 
 only six weeks before he could be removed, but he 
 was never saddled for a race again. He was a slash- 
 ing, attractive-looking animal, of the Whisker get ; 
 lengthy, with a deep shoulder, big ribs, and a very 
 coarse head and neck. 
 
 It is no part of our purpose to give an invoice of 
 the victories which Sam gained in the " pink-and- 
 black-stripe" jacket, during the thirty years it was in 
 
126 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 his keeping. The connexion began with Pavilion ; 
 and, though he rode a Memnon colt for his Grace in 
 the Derby of 1835, it might virtually be said to end 
 with Shillelah. One of the most extraordinary 
 matches in the course of it was one in which Merry- 
 go-round beat Sorcery at equal weights, A. F. The 
 pair had met before at the same weights and distance, 
 and the Oaks winner had won in a canter ; but the 
 Chifneys were so sure that the horse had not run to 
 his form, that they persuaded Lord Darlington to 
 purchase him, which he did through Mr. Shakespeare, 
 and match him over again at the same weights. His 
 new owner quite entered into the spirit of the specu- 
 lation, and backed his horse so heavily, that the odds 
 soon changed from 4 to I on the mare to evens ; and 
 very cleverly she was beaten. One of the finest D.I. 
 finishes that Sam and Robinson ever rode against 
 each other was for the Claret, in 1833, the former on 
 Lord Darlington's Trustee (a fair-sized smart sort of 
 horse), and the latter on Lord Conyngham's Minster. 
 Beiram and Margrave were also in the race, which, 
 however, lay entirely between the other two, and was 
 won by one of Sam's almost superhuman efforts of 
 hand and knee, in the very last stride. The two ran 
 a match across the flat shortly after, and with the 
 same result, though Trustee won more easily. Muley 
 Moloch's Port victory, the next year, was a much 
 more decided one. He was a fine large horse, of 
 whom Sam thought very highly, and was purchased 
 as a yearling, for a short price, from Mr. Nowell, of 
 Underley, during the Doncaster week. Mr. Nowell's 
 fame as a breeder stood so well at this time, that a 
 Spring Underley Stakes was established at New- 
 market ; and Sam gave a fine specimen of his art 
 by winning it on the Duke's very bad Sheldrake 
 colt, in 1830, against Will Arnull, on Prima Donna. 
 
 He had no more luck for Lord Darlington in his 
 St. Leger than in his Derby mounts, and hence " it 
 
Lord Darlington and Mr. Thornhill. 127 
 
 was no wonder," as The Life remarked, "that he so 
 often departed up the North-road like a ' Knight of 
 the Rueful Countenance,' and in no great cue for the 
 banter and nut-brown ale of the cheery Boniface of 
 Barnby Moor." Accident foiled him on The Alderman ; 
 Priam began to give in before the superior stride of 
 Birmingham and the heavy ground at the Intake 
 farm ; and Mameluke only scuffled off at the eighth 
 attempt, about 100 yards in the rear of Matilda. It 
 was fully believed at the time that the false starts in 
 this last race were got up by the Northern jockeys, 
 who were dreadfully jealous in those days of having 
 their great prize snatched from them by a Southern 
 Derby winner, and still worse by a Newmarket jockey. 
 Perhaps, however, the animals on which many of 
 them were mounted had as much to do with making 
 a scene as the jockeys themselves. It used, indeed, 
 to be a common bet among divers low parties, that a 
 certain number of horses, say twenty-five, would come 
 to the St. Leger Post ; and accordingly they would 
 scour the country for horses which were certain, in 
 the ordinary course of things, not to start bring them 
 up from grass, or anywhere, put a jockey or a bumpkin 
 on them, and give them orders to pull up as soon as 
 they decently could. Of course, owners did not 
 demur to lending their animals for 25 sovereigns for 
 the day, as it just covered their/./, stake liability; 
 and thus the taker of a iooo/. bet of this kind was 
 known to clear nearly QOO/., after all his spirited 
 outlay ! Geloni, who owned to white legs and a white 
 tail and mane, was suspected to have been run on 
 this system in Mameluke's year, as he was ridden by 
 a lad in gaiters, who pulled him up before they 
 reached the road ; and horses like those, whose own 
 chances were nil, were just the ones, designedly or 
 undesigned! y, to kick up a devilry when a Derby 
 winner came to the post in a fret. 
 
 There were those who thought that Sam had waited 
 
128 The Post and tJu Paddock. 
 
 too long with the magnificent Voltaire, in Rowton's 
 year, and that if he had come sooner, or if the race 
 had been fifty yards further, he would have won. The 
 latter notion is probably correct, but no man -with 
 Chifney's fine knowledge of pace dared hurry his 
 horse, and try to live with Rowton, at the tremendous 
 bat at which Scott sent him along, without the 
 semblance of a pull, from the hill. All he could do 
 was to keep creeping up inch by inch, and trust to 
 the little chestnut " coming back" under such terrible 
 treatment, and then catching him close at home. It 
 was one of Bill Scott's bruising days ; and when he 
 and Sam talked over the matter privately, he con- 
 fessed that he was so confident that he could win by 
 twenty yards, that he " drove the horse till he was 
 fairly drunk." The Voltaire party, headed by John 
 Smith, his trainer, who was always very jealous of the 
 Duke's southern division, were anxious to have a 
 match, and to put John Day up ; while the Chifneys 
 and Bill Scott were so eager to bring them up to the 
 scratch, that they offered, with Mr. Petre's permission, 
 and through Colonel Cradock, to lay 2ooo/ to iooo/., 
 and run the two at even weights, or to lay iooo/. 
 even, and give 7lbs., on the following Friday. Chifney 
 was to have ridden Rowton in the second bout, as it 
 was his riding which had been so especially attacked ; 
 but Lord Darlington, seeing that Scott and Sam were 
 so perfectly agreed as to the St. Leger running, 
 declined to lend his horse, and defeated Laurel, 
 Fleur-de-lis, &c., with him for the Cup on the 
 Thursday. 
 
 In the case of Marcus, Sam's St. Leger luck was 
 more gloomy than ever. This son of Emilius who 
 was purchased by the Duke from Mr. Thornhill, when 
 a yearling, for 250 guineas had won a race at New- 
 market in the spring of that year, and had beaten 
 Chorister easily in a rough gallop, when the Duke's 
 Northern and Southern lots met at exercise on Don- 
 
Lord Darlington and Mr. Thornhill. 129 
 
 caster Moor. Although the decision has always been 
 most bitterly impugned by the Saddler's backers, 
 Chorister (on whom his owner won ^ooo/. at very low 
 odds) had the race given him by " a short head ;" 
 while Marcus, like Plenipo three years afterwards, 
 was the last but one. Before Sam dismounted, he 
 had come to the firm conclusion that the horse had 
 been poisoned ; and when a pony and one or two 
 more racers who had stood at the same inn, died, and 
 were found on dissection to be full of arsenic, many 
 called to mind how a certain ill-favoured stranger had 
 sat by the Doncaster Arms copper on Sunday after- 
 noon, pretending to read a newspaper, as the stable- 
 lads came for warm water ; and how he casually, as it 
 were, warned the servant-maid when she arrived with 
 her kettle, not to use the water, as " it looks so yellow 
 and greasy-like." This, and the Ludlow affair of the 
 following year when Lord Darlington delivered as 
 vigorous a diatribe against horse cheats, on the 
 betting-room table, as Lord Stanley had done shortly 
 before against boroughmongers, on the table at 
 Brookes's inflicted blots on the racing escutcheon of 
 Doncaster which a meeting with less innate vitality 
 and less powerful prestige could never have effaced. 
 
 If Lord Darlington and Sam had met their match 
 in Rowton, when they tackled him with Voltaire at 
 Doncaster, they were doomed to a still more decisive 
 disappointment when they encountered the " chestnut 
 bullock" with Shillelah at Epsom. Connolly soon 
 placed all opposition at a discount, when he found 
 that Sam (who had lain much forwarder throughout 
 than was his wont) had settled " Our Jim" on Glencoe, 
 and was trying to close with him. For five or six 
 strides he lost sight of Sam altogether, and then found 
 him, as if by magic at his girths. Jem Bland, who 
 stood to win along with Halliday some 6o,ooo/., and 
 whose well-known slogan of " Whool lay agin Shey- 
 lay-lee ?" had pierced the ears of the Ring for months 
 
 K 
 
1 30 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 previous, was never the same man again. Stevens, 
 the sporting fishmonger, was also left lamenting 
 over the 2O,ooo/. which had suddenly faded into thin 
 air, and both the Chifneys were hard hit. Shillelah 
 was a big, leggy, brown horse, excessively speedy, 
 but not powerful, and withal very delicate and 
 difficult to train. He was made second favourite for 
 the St. Leger at starting, and it was after this memo- 
 rable Touchstone triumph, in which he assisted by 
 running eighth, that Sam bade adieu to the saddle in 
 Yorkshire. 
 
 But we must now leave the pink-and-black stripes, 
 and have a peep at Sam in the white body and red 
 sleeves of Mr. Thornhill. His engagement to Perren's 
 stable had given him several mounts for The Squire 
 of Riddlesworth previous to 1818, but it was not till 
 the Derby-day of that year that the two were espe- 
 cially identified in the public mind. Such was Mr. 
 Thornhill's opinion of his talent, that he had christened 
 his Derby colt of that year " SAM," in his honour. 
 This son of Scud was a low, lengthy, and plain sort of 
 horse, with a sour countenance, and a delicate consti- 
 tution ; and ten days before the race he went so much 
 amiss, that Mr. Thornhill thought seriously of hedging 
 the greater part of the I5,ooo/. which depended on the 
 result. Owing to the fretfulness of Prince Paul, the 
 first favourite, the horses only got off at the tenth 
 attempt, and then Chifney quietly waited till Prince 
 Paul had run himself out, disposed of Raby, and won 
 cleverly by three parts of a length. Raby, against 
 whom 50 to I was laid at starting, was in the same 
 stable, and the property of Lord Darlington, who had 
 given up his first claim on Sam Chifney for the day. 
 He had nominally come to Epsom in Perren's charge; 
 but as it was thought better that there should be a 
 divided duty, a friendly arrangement was entered into, 
 and Will Chifney had the sole management, for the 
 fortnight, of the horse, which his brother was to steer. 
 
Lord Darlington and Mr. Thornhill. 1 3 1 
 
 The series of false starts rather upset " Sam," who 
 consequently gave his namesake not a little trouble 
 at the post. Owing to the hard state of the ground, 
 the race was run from end to end in a cloud of dust, 
 and it was only when they neared the distance post, 
 and the beaten horses dropped out of the front rank, 
 that Sam caught a glimpse of the one horse (Prince 
 Paul) he at all feared, and quickly crept up to make 
 his challenge. Robinson had won his maiden Derby 
 on Azor in the preceding year, and though Sam had 
 no brace of St. Legers on his list, the luck of the two 
 at Epsom was in a measure equal, as the one won two 
 Derbies and five Oaks, and the other vice versa. When 
 the two Sams returned to Newmarket, Ben Marshall 
 was commissioned to paint a picture of them, which 
 was hung forthwith in the dining-room at Riddles- 
 worth. In the following year he painted one of 
 Shoveller to match it, in which Will Chifney holds 
 the mare by the head, while a lad is rubbing her down. 
 Sam was fond enough in after-years, of strolling into 
 one of his stables, in which Marshall perpetually set 
 up his easel, on account of its excellent lights, and 
 peeping over his shoulder while he was at work ; but 
 no one disliked sitting for his likeness so much. 
 " Never easy, Mr. Chifney, when you're near an easel" 
 was the old painter's favourite pun ; but on this occa- 
 sion, while his first Derby laurels were still fresh, he 
 was pretty patient in Ben's hands, and, though the 
 lips are perhaps rather thick, the Riddlesworth por- 
 trait aptly represents the countenance and long easy 
 seat of the jockey of thirty-two. Herring painted his 
 likeness in after-years in the great picture which he 
 executed for Lord Kelburne, of the York Match, 
 and also in his start for the Derby ; he never sat to 
 Harry Hall, but a most capital full front likeness of 
 him in the Darlington colours, by Spalding, is to be 
 seen in the centre of the sheet-picture of Southern 
 Jockeys. 
 
 K 2 
 
1 3 2 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Ben Marshall, the painter, was, as we have said 
 before, a great ally of the Chifneys, who admired him 
 as a painter nearly as much as they did Robson in 
 his more practical art. He came into especial notice 
 on the death of Stubbs, who had a great run among 
 our forefathers, which none of his pictures quite seem 
 to justify. Stubbs painted figures and landscapes as 
 well as horses, and especially excelled in the first of 
 these three walks. The late Frank Butler had a 
 picture by him of his grandfather the first Sam 
 Chifney riding a horse in and setting-to with a 
 slack rein, in which the figure is most beauti- 
 fully painted, while the horse is very moderate. 
 We have, however, seen some of his horse groups, 
 one especially of some mares and foals at the 
 Marquis of Westminster's, in London, most capi- 
 tally drawn and painted. His chief failing was a 
 lack of anatomical knowledge, and his horses in 
 motion were stiff and unnatural to the last degree. 
 He adopted the old style of making the hind pasterns 
 bend inwards in the gallop, instead of outwards, as 
 they are now more correctly drawn. Marshall was 
 originally a West-end valet, and did not set up his 
 easel till he was above thirty. At first he confined 
 himself to portrait painting, but as he soon found that 
 " gentlemen would give 50 guineas for the portrait of 
 a horse when they grudged 10 guineas for their wife's," 
 he migrated from London to Newmarket. He was 
 an idle painter, and a great bon vivant ; very full of 
 humour and anecdote, and seldom, if ever, worked 
 after his two-o'clock dinner. Those who watched him 
 at his easel used always to declare that he painted 
 much more with his thumb than his brush. The 
 Margravine of Anspach was one of his first patrons, 
 as were also Mr. Thornhill and Lord Sondes, at whose 
 house he made long visits. His early style was en- 
 tirely original ; he painted mostly for effect, with won- 
 derful feeling for light and shade, which with his 
 
Lord Darlington and Mr. Thornhill. 133 
 
 brilliant colouring, brought him hosts of admirers. 
 The treatment of his subjects was quite Cuyp-like in 
 its breadth, while his feeling for aerial perspective 
 gave immense power to his groups. Latterly his style 
 became careless and coarse, and his once-brilliant 
 colouring degenerated into vulgarity. Although for 
 many years it was the fashion to have every great 
 winner painted by him, it was his figures rather than 
 his horses which made his racing pictures so life-like 
 and attractive. Still, in this point Harry Hall has 
 quite equalled, if not beaten him ; and we know of 
 nothing of Marshall's which can bear comparison with 
 the study of Nat and his pony in Lord Clifden's 
 picture of Surplice, or of Harry Stebbings leading 
 Knight of St. George to the St. Leger post. Even 
 when he put forth his greatest powers, his horse-draw- 
 ing was rather that of a well-taught man than a lover 
 of the four-legged subject ; and in his picture of 
 the match between Sir Joshua and Filho da Puta, the 
 portrait of the latter (who was trained, as a writer of 
 the period [1817] observes, "by a very civil and ap- 
 parently deserving young man of the name of John 
 Scott") hardly gives one a worthy idea of the magni- 
 ficent sixteen-and-a-half-hand son of Haphazard. He 
 quitted Newmarket in 1832, and died in London two 
 years afterwards ; and his most enduring monument 
 is to be found in the long series of engravings from his 
 works which embellished the pages of the Old Sport- 
 ing Magazine. 
 
 In the course of the autumn of " SAM'S" Derby 
 year, Mr. Thornhill's horses left Perren's, and were 
 placed under Sam's charge, as trainer, although his 
 brother William looked principally after them. With 
 brothers less attached to each other, an arrangement 
 of this kind might have led to some misunderstand- 
 ing ; but during the whole of their long connexion, 
 both as regarded the management of Mr. Thornhill's, 
 as well as Lord Darlington's stud, which came from 
 
134 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Perren's to Sam's some few seasons afterwards, they 
 never ceased to be of one mind. The very next 
 Epsom meeting saw them successful for Mr. Thornhill 
 in the Oaks with Shoveller a small, lengthy, and 
 blood-like whole-coloured bay mare, of whom they 
 gave him so good a report, that he won nearly 2O,ooo/. 
 In this race, Sam convinced Frank Buckle that the 
 high opinion he had long entertained for him was not 
 unfounded, as he waited on him from the moment he 
 took up the running with Espagnolle at Tattenham 
 Corner, and making one of his magnificent rushes in 
 the last two strides, defeated " the governor" on the 
 post by a head. His Thornhill luck had not, however, 
 run out with the half-sister to Sam, as the Derby of 
 the following year (1820) again fell to him with 
 Shoveller's full-brother Sailor, who won the Derby on 
 his third birthday. Such a delicious Epsom sandwich 
 for one owner as two Derbies, with an Oaks between, 
 has never been known either before or since. Sailor 
 was a plain, light-fleshed, chestnut colt ; rather leggy, 
 but at the same time very powerful, and though he 
 had by no means a large foot, deeply devoted to mud 
 This last quality was most opportune, as the whole of 
 the night preceding his Derby was a perfect hurricane 
 of wind and wet. Sam was lying comfortably in bed 
 recruiting himself after a heavy walk in the sweaters 
 on the preceding evening, and knew nothing of his 
 brightening prospects till he called for his slender tea- 
 and-toast breakfast ; while William, on the contrary, 
 was exposed to the pitiless tempest at four in the 
 morning, as he rose from his bed at Headley, and 
 wended his way down the hill to Mr. Ladbroke's, 
 where Sailor was standing, with the remainder of Mr. 
 rhornhill's horses. The booths on the race-course 
 were cracking and flying about everywhere " 'neath 
 the breath of the howling blast ;" but although Will 
 had to wade through a perfect Balaklava of liquid 
 slush, and was wet through long before he reached his 
 
Lord Darlington and Mr. Thornhill. 135 
 
 charge, he told his friends that he felt as if he could 
 have stopped and danced with pleasure, as he knew 
 that none of the fourteen could touch his Sailor now. 
 If Jem Bland had still been Mr. Ladbroke's coachman 
 he might have perhaps had this weather secret con- 
 fided to him, instead of losing so heavily on Sailor as 
 he did. As it turned out, Will had taken the mud 
 measure of his horses most exactly ; and Mr. Thorn- 
 hill was so confident from the same cause, that he 
 made Sailor as good a favourite as anything before 
 starting, and won 23,ooo/. on him. At this period Mr. 
 Thornhill was about forty years of age, and weighed 
 23st. 3lbs., or about 3lbs. more than a sporting Suffolk 
 farmer, one Mr. Dobito, who had a great love for 
 trotting horses, and used often to sell him a nag. 
 These had been so well accustomed to Mr. D.'s 
 weight, when they came to hand, that Mr. Thornhill 
 regularly rode on the Heath, and only took to the 
 yellow phaeton and the greys in the few last years of 
 his life. Sam's racing career after the Derby was 
 most ignoble, as he was a bad-constitutioned horse, 
 and, like Shoveller, lost all form ; but Sailor's chance 
 was cut short by death during that very autumn. 
 Will Chifney had taken him out on the Heath as usual 
 one morning, and was watching the string as they rose 
 the hill from the bushes, when he suddenly observed 
 him stop in his stride, cross his legs, stagger about two 
 hundred yards, and then drop. He had broken a 
 blood-vessel in the chest, and was quite dead before 
 Will could gallop up to him and get off his hack. 
 The horse must have lost all consciousness in an in- 
 stant, as, for the first time in his life, he crossed the 
 road at the Turn of the Lands, without taking it at a 
 flying jump, as was his eccentric and unvarying prac- 
 tice, even though he might be in the iron grip of Sam 
 himself. He fell dead about seventy yards on the 
 Newmarket side of it, and it darted instantly through 
 Will's mind that there could be no hope, as he had 
 
* 36 The Post and the Paddjck. 
 
 forgotten to rise at his favourite spot. Albert died on 
 the Heath not many years after, with Connolly on his 
 back ; but he died in his stride, and did not go nearly 
 so far before he fell : and Orinoco's death was equally 
 instantaneous. It was said at the time, that Will 
 Chifney gave Sailor unduly heavy work, and had 
 horses regularly posted for him in his sweats Both 
 he and his father were good match trainers, but not 
 great for two or three races together. Their match 
 horses were brought to the post as fine as wax-work, 
 but very light : they set them very sharp, stinted 
 their water, had them out for exercise, varied with 
 frequent four-mile sweats, four or five hours a day, 
 and bled them upwards of a couple of quarts a 
 week, till within a fortnight of the race. Such at 
 least is the testimony of their still surviving cotem- 
 poraries, who will stick stoutly to the over-training of 
 Priam. 
 
 Mr. ThornhiU's Epsom luck with the Chifneys 
 reached its acme on the terrific Sailor day ; and 
 during the ten years more that his horses continued 
 under their charge, none of them were ever again 
 placed for either of those two races. Mustard was 
 " nowhere" to Gulnare in the Oaks ; and an own sister 
 to Sam and Sailor was equally unfortunate in Zinc's 
 year. The same may be said of Reformer, who was 
 first favourite when Sir John Shelley won the Derby 
 with Cedric, and had been purchased for 1500 guineas 
 some six weeks before. His colt Merchant (who 
 failed hopelessly for this race in 1828) was always an 
 especial fancy of his owner's : low, lengthy, and 
 strong; and tried to be so good after he won the 
 Prendergast and the Column, that a third Derby 
 seemed distinctly to loom in the future for Riddles- 
 worth. The winter blasted all these hopes, as he went 
 dead amiss, and was never really in form again. Once 
 more, however, his bankrupt spirit seemed to revive, 
 and Sam astonished the Heath considerably, and Lord 
 
Lord Darlington and Mr. Thornkill. 137 
 
 Exeter still more, by defeating the much-vaunted 
 Varna in 1829 ; while his friend Robinson, on Lucetta, 
 had an equally noted triumph over her fair stable 
 friend Green Mantle. It was on the strength of the 
 high opinion which they entertained of Merchant that 
 the Chifneys were first tempted to buy Zinganee from 
 Lord Exeter. Sam had of course ridden Merchant in 
 his two-year-old races ; and both he and Will were so 
 convinced that Wheatley had not made enough use of 
 Zinganee when he ran second in the Prendergast, that 
 they soon afterwards made an offer of 1200 /for him. 
 His lordship returned them an answer to the effect 
 that, considering the horse's good engagements, I5oo/. 
 was about his price ; and a cheque for that sum was 
 at once forwarded. Reformer never did much to 
 wipe out his Derby failure, and Sam's principal per- 
 formances consisted in winning a match on him against 
 Don Carlos, and running a dead heat with the same 
 horse in a second match. Ringleader also won a 
 somewhat extraordinary match against Strephon. 
 The horses had run a match before, which had come 
 off easily in favour of Strephon ; but Will Chifney had 
 kept his weather-eye open, and considered that Buckle 
 had so completely out-generalled Will Arnull, that, if 
 Mr. Thornhill would only buy the horse, and put Sam 
 " up," things, as in the Merry-go-round match, would 
 be altered. He was so set in his opinion, that Mr. 
 Thornhill acquiesced, invited Mr. Lechmere Charlton 
 to shoot at Riddlesworth between the Second October 
 and the Houghton meetings, and succeeded in 
 making another match at the same weights and dis- 
 tance. Mr. Charlton jumped at such an apparently 
 foolhardy offer, and was not a little chagrined at the 
 result. 
 
 During the seasons 1830-42, Mr. Thornhill's horses 
 were in the hands of Pettit ; and Connolly had nearly 
 all the mounts above 7st. /Ibs. Still, auld acquain- 
 tance could not be entirely forgotten, and Sam ap- 
 
1 3 8 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 peared in the Riddlesworth colours at intervals, and 
 won two matches in them on Menalippe in 1840. It 
 was owing also to the express wish of Mr. Thornhill, 
 who was very intimate, and trained with Mr. Gurney, 
 that he rode and won the Ascot Cup on that very 
 peculiar horse St. Francis. In 1843, the season after 
 poor Connolly died, Mr. Thornhill's horses were placed 
 under his charge, both to train and ride. The lot 
 consisted of Extempore, Elixir, Example, Eringo, 
 Elemi, and one or two others ; and were certainly not 
 calculated, in cardsellers' parlance, "to do much for 
 the owner's name," although the blood of Emilius 
 coursed in their veins. This magnificent son of Orville, 
 whom he purchased for Mr. Udney, for 1800 guineas, 
 was quite as dear to Mr. Thornhill as ever Touchstone 
 was to the late Marquis of Westminster. The old 
 horse survived Buckle, who rode him for the Derby, 
 when he made all the running to Tattenham Corner, 
 was headed, and then " came again," nearly seventeen 
 years, and his owner, who left special injunctions that 
 he should never be sold, for nearly four years. He 
 was buried near the ruins of Easby Abbey, at which 
 stud farm he died (within a few months of Mulatto, 
 The Colonel, and The Saddler), leaving Priam, Plenipo, 
 Mango, Euclid, and Oxygen to keep his memory 
 green in the Epsom and Doncaster annals. Of the 
 high-bred " E's" which Sam Chifney had in hand, 
 Extempore, own sister to Euclid, was quite the 
 flower ; and the old jockey, who was then not many 
 years short of sixty, donned the sweaters again with 
 no little heart, to take off some I2lbs., in order to ride 
 her for " The One Thousand " in 1843. Nine started, 
 and George Edwards on Spiteful fought it out till the 
 very last stride, when " The Old Screw " made his 
 effort, and just won a head. It seemed quite like old 
 times again, when he mounted his hack and rode 
 alongside Mr. Thornhill's phaeton to receive his con- 
 gratulations and describe the race. His two last 
 
Lord Darlington and Mr. Thornhill. 139 
 
 matches were on the same mare, and in both of them 
 he had the pleasure of beating his old friend Robinson 
 once on Cowslip and again on Semiseria. The 
 latter match for 500 sovereigns, h. ft., came off on 
 May /th, 1844, and was a worthy finish to a great 
 Newmarket career, which had then extended over 
 nearly half a century. He was perforce obliged to 
 abandon his waiting system, as he knew that Semiseria 
 could go much faster than his mare ; and, in fact, her 
 match with Queen of the Gipsies was said to be the 
 fastest thing ever run at Newmarket. Sam, conse- 
 quently, started at score over the A.F., and cut her 
 down before they reached the cords. The appearance 
 of the veterans created quite a sensation, even among 
 the matter-of-fact Ring-men. There was even betting 
 between the two ; and Sam's grim weather-beaten 
 visage was not altogether proof against the roar of de- 
 light which welcomed him as he rode back to scale, 
 casting a knowing look of triumph at Robinson, who 
 gave him the warmest of greetings in the weighing- 
 house. 
 
 Only twice more was the well-known name of " S. 
 Chifney " entered in the book of a Clerk of the Scales 
 once opposite Elemi in the Derby of that year, and 
 again, and for the last time, opposite Example in the 
 Oaks. In 1843 the issue of this race had been be- 
 tween himself and his nephew Frank Butler, and he 
 had then been forced to alter his waiting tactics, and 
 come on in front a quarter of a mile from home. The 
 old tutor was, however, destined to be beaten by the 
 pupil, and there was no resisting Poison's challenge at 
 the Stand. This struggle might be said to be decisive 
 of the point, as to whether the uncle or the nephew 
 was to win the largest number of Oaks. Already had 
 the uncle won five on Briseis, Sorcery, Landscape, 
 Shoveller, and Wings while the nephew won five 
 after this one, and, in fact, just commenced his great 
 career in the saddle when the uncle quitted it. Mr. 
 
1 40 The Post arid the Paddock. 
 
 Thornhill and Sam might have jogged on comfortably 
 for some years to come, but the fatal escutcheon was 
 above the hall-door of Riddlesworth before the next 
 Newmarket July, and the latter settled down in the 
 premises which his late master was found to have 
 left him for his life, and never attempted to waste 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PRIAM AND ZINGANEE. 
 
 *' Now fitfully by gusts is heard, 
 
 He's fifth he's sixth he's fourth he's third : 
 And on like an arrowy meteor flame, 
 The stride of the Derby winner came. " 
 
 SIR F. H. DOYLE. 
 
 years 1829-31 may be said to have seen the 
 Brothers Chifney at their zenith. Up to that 
 time they had kept no private horses of any high 
 stamp, although Pendulum was a fair country runner ; 
 whereas in 1828 they brought out Zinganee, in 1830 
 Priam, and in 1831 Emiliana. The latter filly won 
 the Clearwell and the Prendergast Stakes, with 
 Robinson on her, in such style that both Derby and 
 Oaks seemed almost mortgaged to the stable ; and 
 even the quiet Sam is reported to have taken his 
 pipe out of his mouth, and remarked, in one of his 
 unwonted inspirations, that " if he did not win them 
 lie would be hung to the nearest tree" The backers 
 of the chestnut at the Corner derived much comfort 
 from this handsome proposal ; but during the winter 
 she " got a leg," and was so out of tune on the 
 Derby day, that Sam (who rode 2lbs. over weight) 
 could make nothing out of her, although she re- 
 covered her running in a measure towards the close 
 of the season. The coarse, coffin-headed Margrave, 
 whom she had beaten cleverly in the Clearwell, was 
 fourth, and Beiram fifth. Mr. Petre's Rowton came 
 
1 42 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 to Newmarket about the same time, after keeping up 
 in the North for two seasons the character which he 
 had acquired by making his own running and defeat- 
 ing such horses as Voltaire and Sir Hercules in the 
 St Leger. The Chifneys had kept an eye on him 
 ever since Sam got his measure on that memorable 
 day with Voltaire ; and even when he came into their 
 hands for his fifth season, they declared him to be 
 " the best horse at all distances from half a mile to 
 four miles that they had ever trained" no small 
 praise from the owners of Priam and Zinganee. His 
 sire was Oiseau, who also distinguished himself 
 through Revolution and some rare four-mile horses in 
 the north ; while his dam Katharina was by Woful. 
 The price was 1000 guineas ; and at one time John 
 Scott thought of taking half of him, but changed his 
 mind from a feeling of delicacy towards Mr. Petre, 
 whose luck was then sadly on the wane. In shape he 
 was, perhaps, as nearly perfection as possible ; low 
 and lengthy, perhaps rather light-timbered, but with 
 beautiful quarters. His head was small, clean, and 
 deer-like, with an exquisitely expressive eye; and 
 casting our memory back over the thousands of 
 thorough-breds we have seen stripped, we know of 
 few that we would not more readily have spared to 
 the foreigners. One leg had required a good deal 
 of care before he arrived at Ascot to encounter Cama- 
 rine for the Gold Cup, in 1832; and this coarse, big 
 mare, whom Robinson always considered some pounds 
 better than Lucetta, presented a quaint contrast to 
 her elegant little opponent, who looked little qualified 
 to give her i/lbs. for the two years. The race was 
 one of the most extraordinary and interesting ever 
 run, and The Saddler was soon beaten off. Chifney 
 walked 150 yards, and then cantered in front till 
 about three-quarters of a mile from home, when he 
 went on at a terrific pace Robinson waiting with the 
 mare till about seventy yards from the chair, where 
 
Priam and Zinganee. 1 43 
 
 he challenged, and a most punishing head-and-head 
 struggle, in which the great Newmarket rivals seemed 
 to ride for " Westminster Abbey or Victory," ended 
 in a dead heat. The Chifneys would have been glad 
 to compromise the race, and let the mare walk over ; 
 but the crowd was so great in those primitive days, 
 when Grand Stand enclosures were unknown, that 
 they could not find Sir Mark Wood. It is not likely 
 that the baronet would have fallen in with the offer, 
 as he had taken up some warm notions about a col- 
 lision which had occurred between the pair as Robin- 
 son closed up, and would have it that Sam jostled his 
 mare ; while Sam as stoutly maintained that the mare 
 had swerved on to his horse, and knocked him out of 
 his stride. In the second bout Rowton made the 
 running, Camarine waiting two lengths off; but his 
 leg failed him after he passed the Brick Kilns, and 
 the mare won easily. The produce of the two or 
 rather the two and Cetus in 1835, was the chestnut 
 Glenlivat, who was brought to the hammer, when a 
 yearling, after Sir Mark Wood's death. He was so 
 wonderfully handsome and blood-looking that Lord 
 Exeter bid him up to I OCX) guineas ; but Lord George 
 Bentinck who then used Mr. Bowes' name in his 
 nominations went on with another ten-guinea bid, 
 and secured him. Will Chifney had told Mr. Thorn- 
 hill, who was anxious to bid, that he was not worth a 
 fifty-pound note ; and he turned out to be nearly cor- 
 rect. He contrived, however, when receiving 361bs., 
 to break down Hetman Platoff in the Leamington 
 Stakes, in the same fashion that his dam had eight 
 years before treated his sire. Rowton was also 
 honoured with the smiles of the I loo-guinea Pucelle, 
 when she was in the Duke of Cleveland's stud ; and 
 from their union sprang Virginia, who was in her turn 
 the dam of Virago. 
 
 Zinganee was tried so highly during the spring of 
 1828 that Mr. Thornhill, as well as his owners, stood 
 
144 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 heavily upon him for the Derby. He beat a field of 
 ten for the Newmarket Stakes (8257.) very cleverly, 
 although he was up to his fetlocks in dirt ; but fate 
 was against him in his Epsom preparation ; and he 
 had barely reached that town when his throat swelled, 
 and he ran profusely at the nose almost up to the 
 hour of starting. In spite of his distemper, he looked 
 a winner all over till within eighty yards from home, 
 when his Tramp stoutness could avail him no longer ; 
 and he was fain to finish a fair third to Cadland and 
 The Colonel, who made a dead heat of it. The race 
 took a great deal out of him, and he was very weak 
 all the summer, and got beat at the turn of the lands 
 in the Oatlands. Few could have guessed that so 
 much racing power lurked under such an unpromising 
 exterior. He was a lengthy horse, rather more than 
 fifteen hands, lightly built, and with very thin thighs. 
 His back ribs were very good ; but, in addition to a 
 pair of white heels, he had a very sour countenance, 
 which deeply-sunken eyes did not tend to light up. 
 The Newmarket season of 1829 was inaugurated by 
 his victory, with Sam again on his back, for the Craven 
 Stakes, when Fleur-de-lis (Pavis) was only beaten 
 by a short head. The mare ran at a great disadvan- 
 tage, as she carried about 32lbs. of dead weight ; but 
 still she was so vastly superior in stride and power to 
 her opponent, that nothing but Sam's Herculean style 
 of riding his little horse home just brought him 
 through. To quote the vigorous report of Mr. RufF, 
 " he absolutely lifted his horse in first by a bare head? 
 In the Claret Stakes the pair were again successful. 
 Buckle had seldom been more disappointed than on 
 losing this race, as, after making ;st. I2lb. his 
 lowest riding weight for years, he had specially re- 
 duced himself to ;st. 81b., in order to ride his favourite 
 Rough .Robin. Robinson, on Cadland, was disposed 
 of half way between the turn of the lands and the 
 Duke's Stand, and at the latter point Chifney " got 
 
Priam and Zinganee. 145 
 
 to evens with Buckle, made his terrific rush, and 
 won easily by two lengths." Zinganee's condition 
 was so perfect on this day that he hardly 
 turned a hair on pulling up ; but he had a cough 
 for nearly five weeks afterwards, and was only able 
 to take sixteen days of strong work before the Ascot 
 Cup. 
 
 The entry for this race was one of the most splen- 
 did ever known, and comprised two Derby, one St. 
 Leger, and one Oaks winners. It was calculated that 
 the eight which came to the post had had 24,000 
 guineas refused or paid for them at one time or 
 another. There was the leggy and powerful-quartered 
 Mameluke, for whom Mr. Gully had paid 4000 guineas 
 to Lord Jersey, after he had won the Derby ; while 
 The Colonel, who had passed out of Mr. Petre's 
 hands into the King's at 4000 guineas, for the sake 
 of winning this one great prize, was once more side 
 by side with his old rival Cadland, who was said to 
 be priced at 1000 guineas less. The latter offer had 
 also been refused for Lamplighter, and Lord Exeter 
 would certainly have not taken less for his favourite 
 Green Mantle. Mr. W., a betting man, made an 
 offer of 3000 guineas for Zinganee the day before ; 
 but, as the Chifneys did not like the party for whom 
 it was made, and felt some apprehension that it was 
 intended to square him, they declined to treat. His 
 victory in the Trial Stakes on Tuesday had put them 
 on velvet, as regarded their Derby losses, and, remem- 
 bering the good old maxim, " Sell when you can," 
 they parted with him to Lord Chesterfield for 2500 
 guineas on the eve of the race, with the stipulations 
 not only that Sam was to be in the red-and-blue, but 
 that they were to receive the 340 sovs. stakes, and his 
 lordship the Cup. The opinion of both brothers as 
 to their certainty of success is best shown by the fol- 
 lowing letter, which William Chifney despatched to 
 Lord Darlington, who was anxious to be guided by 
 
 L 
 
1 4 6 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 his advice in his Tattersall's operations on Monday. 
 It ran as follows : 
 
 " Sunninghill Wells, Monday morning, 8 o'clock. 
 
 "MY LORD, I lose no time in answering your lordship's note, 
 desiring me to remit my opinion of the horses in the Ascot Cup. 
 
 " Cadland and Mameluke are good horses ; the latter, at times, shows 
 temper, and will require the most skilful management to make him mn 
 his best form amongst a field of horses, and the slightest mistake in this 
 respect will be fatal to him for the race. The Colonel is badly shaped : 
 his ribs and quarters are much too large and heavily formed, and will 
 cause him to tire and to run a jade ; independent of this defect, the 
 course, of all others, is especially ill suited to him, and will cause him to 
 fall an easy victim. Still his party are so exceedingly fond of him as 
 to think no horse can defeat him, and they have backed him for an 
 immense sum. In the face of all this, I entertain the most contemptible 
 opinion of him, for the distance of ground, and I fear nothing whatever 
 from him. Lamplighter is not sufficiently good to cope with the com- 
 pany he will have to meet ; and neither Green Mantle nor Varna, 
 although good mares, can have a chance with the old horses over this 
 strong course. 
 
 " I have the best horse in England at this moment in Zinganee ; and 
 if the race is desperately run, which I hope and anticipate it will be, and 
 my brother sends him out the last three-quarters of a mile, to keep the 
 pace severe, I shall be very much surprised and greatly disappointed if 
 I do not see him with the Cup on Thursday without the slightest degree 
 of trouble, notwithstanding the powerful field of horses he has to contend 
 against. 
 
 " I am, your Lordship's most obedient servant, 
 
 " WILLIAM CHIFNEY. 
 
 " The Earl of Darlington." 
 
 Such a Carnival, as far as carriages were con- 
 cerned, has never been seen at Ascot, either before 
 or since. " Through the wood follow me !" was the 
 key-note of every Justice Shallow, Falstaff, and 
 "Merry Wife" for twenty miles round Windsor on 
 that great Cup day, whose next anniversary saw the 
 pulse that beat highest in the royal stand faintly 
 ebbing away. The carriages were in some places 
 nearly twenty deep by the side of the cords, and the 
 verderers declared that nearly " half a mile of them" 
 never reached the course at all till the Cup was run 
 for. After three false starts, George Edwards, on 
 the 2OOO-guinea Bobadilla, made the running till 
 
Priam and Zinganee. 147 
 
 far beyond the Swinley post, Zinganee lying oft 
 about seventh, and Wheatley on Mameluke, watch- 
 ing him so jealously, that whenever Sam eased his 
 horse for a few strides, he instantly followed suit. 
 Three-quarters of a mile from home, the Windsor and 
 Belvoir Castle chances were quite out, and, as Will 
 Chifney had foreshadowed in his prophetic note to 
 Lord Darlington, Zinganee suddenly went through 
 his horses like a minie-ball, Mameluke still hanging 
 on to his quarters until halfway up, when he could 
 live the pace no longer, and Sam landed the Bretby 
 colours amid loud shouts enough to scare every 
 faun and dryad from the shade of Herne Oak for 
 life a clever first by two lengths. The Chifneys 
 won about I2OO/. on the race, and took 5OO/. of it 
 at 2| to I through Mr. Greville, just before starting. 
 Mameluke's running did not surprise his friends, as 
 he was always suspected to be rather a jade over a 
 distance of ground. His temper had been perfect 
 when he was in Tiny Edwards's hands ; but it had 
 been sadly ruined, as Bloomsbury's was in after- 
 years, during his St. Leger training at Hambleton. 
 After his gallops on the moor, he had been allowed 
 to walk about among the horses which were grazing 
 there, until at last he politely took to noticing them, 
 and rearing whenever he passed one. This habit 
 utterly nullified his training ; and when he came to 
 the St. Leger post, among a very large field of 
 horses, he could hardly be got to face it at all. By 
 the aid of Mr. Gully's cart-whip and Sam Chifney's 
 whalebone, he did get off at the eleventh hour of 
 asking, but he was nearly one hundred yards behind 
 Matilda ; bad as the mare was, it was " her day," 
 and he could not, with all Sam's nursing, give 5lbs. 
 and hold his own, when he crept up to her within 
 the distance-post. Robinson always entertained the 
 highest idea of Mameluke before the Derby, while 
 Tiny Edwards (who was always one for quick work) 
 
 L 2 
 
j 48 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 as strongly believed that he was inferior to Glenart- 
 ney. Lord Jersey sided with Robinson ; and Crock- 
 ford often used to tell, with a chuckle, how Tim fairly 
 groaned with horror when he rode up to him on the 
 Heath during the First Spring, and said "Holla, 
 Tiny ! if you see the Peer, tell him 1 have got another 
 hundred for him out of Glenartuey" The public 
 made Glenartney, who was ridden by Harry Edwards, 
 first favourite at starting, against a field of twenty-two 
 (which comprised Sam in the royal livery on Winder- 
 mere, and Will Wheatley on Mr. Sadler's Defence), 
 and relieved their feelings when Jem came sailing 
 past him on Mameluke, by saying that " he couldn't 
 have lost if the bridle had broke!' Over a short dis- 
 tance of ground, perhaps no horse of the day possessed 
 such a high turn of speed as Mameluke, and hence 
 the Chifneys knew that their only chance of winning 
 at Ascot depended on their making the running too 
 severe for him. Zinganee received lolbs. from him 
 for his year in the Cup, and the handicappers reduced 
 this difference to 4lbs. when they adjusted the 
 weights for the Garden Stakes. 
 
 Zinganee's day was virtually over when he passed 
 out of the Chifneys' stable, and Lord Chesterfield's 
 trainer, Prince, had never any luck with him, This 
 failure was not extraordinary, as he was a delicate- 
 constitutioned animal, and although he stood the 
 strong preparation for which the Chifneys had be- 
 come so famed, he equally baffled William Edwards 
 when he became the property of the King for 2000 
 guineas. Cadland beat him a head for the Audley 
 End Stakes in the autumn of his Ascot Cup year, 
 Will Arnull having orders to force the running, a 
 mode of tactics which made his horse show temper. 
 In fact, he could never bear hurrying in his best 
 day, and never fairly waked up till he had gone 
 nearly three-quarters of a mile. An odd proof of 
 this was given in a trial he had with one of the late 
 
Priam and Zinganee. 149 
 
 Duke of Portland's horses over the Bunbury Mile. 
 Lord George Bentinck and a friend were looking on, 
 about halfway, while the Duke of Portland, accord- 
 ing to his wont, stood at the ending post. As the 
 two passed them, Zinganee seemed beaten off, and 
 hence they were not a little surprised when the Duke 
 told them that he had only given it by a neck against 
 the old horse. He only once got as far as Doncaster, 
 where he ran a " half head" second to Tyke for the 
 Fitzwilliam Stakes, and was forthwith scratched for 
 the Cup, where Voltaire would have shown him 
 monstrous little mercy. Sam was engaged to ride 
 him for both races ; but he was so confident, on see- 
 ing him, that there would be no Cup mount, that he 
 begged off, and Will Arnull took his place. After 
 winning such an Ascot Cup but three months before, 
 he could not bear to be beaten on him, and he 
 felt that a fond public would lay 7 to 2 on a horse 
 whom he knew to be some I2lbs. below the form 
 which he had run to in his own and his brother's 
 hands, and not put the most charitable constructions 
 on his defeat. In fact, he was only once more on 
 his back, and then the horse was " as weak as water," 
 and had some trouble in being a decent last for 
 the Cup, which he had won so proudly the year 
 before. His leg gave way in the First October of 
 that year, when he met Cadland for the Whip, and 
 his chequered career soon afterwards came to a 
 close. For a few seasons he was put to the stud in 
 England, but his stock were generally very light, 
 and although Beggarman and Chymist, out of Oxy- 
 gen, ran fairly, he did but little for the fame of 
 Tramp, and ended his days, like Rowton and Priam, 
 in America. 
 
 It was on a fine morning (as the novelists remark) 
 just before the July meeting of 1828, that the Chif- 
 neys sauntered out together to look at Sir John 
 Shelley's young things, which had come up to New- 
 
150 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 market for sale, and were taking their airings at the 
 foot of the Warren Hill. A report had reached them, 
 that there was a wonderfully fine colt by Emilius, out 
 of Cressida, among the lot. The blood of this re- 
 nowned son of Orvile was just coming into fashion, 
 and as they were both stricken with a deep fancy for 
 the colt the moment they set eyes on him, Will boldly 
 determined to make a dash for a second Zinganee, 
 and to have him at any price. He was quite un- 
 broken at the time, and the stable were so anxious to 
 keep him, that they ran him up to 950 guineas. Be- 
 yond that point they would not go ; and Mr. Tatter- 
 sail knocked him down for 1000 guineas to Will 
 Chifney. There was no room for him at either Will's 
 or Sam's stables, and hence he stood for a few months 
 at Sam Day's, and learnt his first lesson in the way 
 he should go from the hands and lips of Martin 
 Starling. During the whole of his two-year-old 
 season he was untried, either in public or private. 
 Dilly had a share in him along with the Chifneys, 
 and the three were so confident of his powers, that 
 they engaged him very heavily, trusting to their no- 
 tions of his form, and a rough gallop or two with 
 Zinganee before Ascot. The first horse he ever 
 galloped with was Flacrow, and Will declares that 
 he never saw any young thing run so raw, or get 
 beaten off so far. He was a dark-bay animal, about 
 whom good judges formed the most opposite notions. 
 Lord Darlington took a violent dislike to him, and 
 never believed that he would stay the Derby course ; 
 while Lord Chesterfield used enthusiastically to de- 
 clare that he could look at him all day, and that 
 he was "the only blood horse he had ever seen." 
 If the shaggy Russian Major, who attended on a 
 pony the Spring Meeting on the Tchernaya, had 
 looked him over, he would indeed have said he was 
 " English hoarse, fleet as winds for course, as woitld 
 gain the reward?' At the first glance, he seemed 
 
Priam and Zinganee. 1 5 1 
 
 rather a tall, short horse ; but although he was 
 slightly leggy, he could hardly be said to want 
 length. In height he was a trifle above fifteen-three, 
 rather light-limbed, and with lightish back-ribs, from 
 which his opponents especially drew their " short- 
 coursed" inferences. His great beauty lay in his fore- 
 hand ; and he had defep oblique shoulders, and one 
 of the most expressive and blood-like of heads. Lord 
 Darlington had well-nigh proved his evil genius, as 
 the horse caught a violent cold from a long inspec- 
 tion which he made of him when he passed through 
 Newmarket, to see his darling Derby hope, Wat 
 Tyler, on his road from the North during a very cold 
 March. Priam's throat swelled so much, that he 
 refused his corn, and at one time it 'seemed doubtful 
 whether he could come to the post for his Craven 
 Meeting engagements, for which his owners had 
 backed him very heavily. In the Riddlesworth race, 
 Will Chifney stationed himself halfway up the D.M., 
 and the horse was running so unkindly when he went 
 past him, that he sung out to Buckle some extempore 
 directions. "Frank" got a 5O/. douceur for his win, 
 as the Chifneys were always exceedingly liberal on 
 these occasions, and was thus apostrophized by Will 
 when they met in the weighing-house, " Why, Frank, 
 what the devil was you about for the first half mile 
 you rode him so contrary to your usual good style ?" 
 Buckle jokingly answered that Will was quite right, 
 but that the horse had been so awkward at starting, 
 that he could not get him settled into his stride till 
 they were nearly in the cords. Kean, who had run 
 second to Patron for the Two Thousand Guineas the 
 year before, and Flacrow, who afterwards became a 
 Melton crack, and distinguished himself by winning a 
 great steeple-chase in that district, gave him his 
 Derby work turn about, along with Wat Tyler, whom 
 Sam was to have ridden at Epsom. When the latter's 
 leg gave way at Mickleham, Will Chifney was in 
 
1 5 2 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 great hopes that he could have secured Sam for 
 Priam, and offered to lay Lord Darlington iooo/. to 
 ioo/. against the horse, if he would consent ; but his 
 lordship was inexorable, and claimed him for the 
 Sheldrake colt. Mr. Rush was applied to for Robin- 
 son with equally ill success, as he was also heavy 
 against Priam, and firmly insisted on his first call for 
 a wretch called Ivanhoe ; and therefore the "green 
 and black cap" of the family was intrusted to Sam 
 Day, who had won the Derby on Gustavus nine years 
 before. 
 
 To get from Newmarket to Epsom in those days 
 was no May game. Priam and his four companions 
 started at four o'clock in the morning on the Friday 
 week before the Derby day, and Will Chifney caught 
 them up on his pony long before they had completed 
 their twenty-one miles' walk to Newport. Will, who 
 was a great walker in his prime, put some of the 
 commissariat across his pony's back on the second 
 day, and walked all the remainder of the way by the 
 side of his favourite, who excited not a little interest 
 among the sporting innkeepers on the road, who had 
 been anxiously looking out for " t* Newmarket nag." 
 A twenty-two miles' tramp brought the procession to 
 the Cock at Epping, on Saturday ; and long before 
 morning church was finished, it had passed down 
 Piccadilly, and reached Smith's stables, which stood 
 at that time near the head of Sloane-street. A quiet 
 "office" had been given to a few of the Jockey Club, 
 to whom Priam granted a long audience in the course 
 of the afternoon. He was far on his road to Mickle- 
 ham Downs before any more visitors could arrive in 
 the morning, and had thus a clear nine days of quiet 
 preparation before the Derby, which, from its esta- 
 blishment in 1780 (when Diomed, Priam's great- 
 grandsire, won it) up till Amato's year, was always 
 run on a Thursday. The facts of the race, for which 
 twenty-three started, are easily told. Little Red 
 
Priam and Zinganee. 153 
 
 Rover was supported with such spirit by the great 
 betting twins of that day, Messrs. Gully and Rids- 
 dale, that Priam could never be got to shorter odds 
 than 4 to I. The latter showed, as in the Riddles- 
 worth, his strong dislike to seeing fresh faces at the 
 post ; and hence, when after a profusion of false 
 starts the flag dropped in earnest, Sam Chifney 
 looked back grimly in his saddle as they swept off 
 in a perfect cloud of dust, and saw Priam still dancing 
 on his hind legs in most approved Ducrow fashion, at 
 the post. However, " the sprig of myrtle" got him 
 once more on all-fours, and although he was last off, 
 and lost several lengths, Sam and Robinson (who 
 were in difficulties already) had the pleasure of seeing 
 him shoot past them like a swallow before they had 
 gone 400 yards, and get on to good terms with Little 
 Red Rover, Mahmoud, and Augustus at Tattenham 
 Corner. Once there, Sam Day took his pull, and 
 waited with them to the Grand Stand, where the 
 ''narrow blue stripes" declined, and all Templeman's 
 efforts on his chestnut could do nothing against 
 Priam when he came in earnest. " Two lengths" was 
 the fiat, and the Chifneys won about I2,ooo/. in- 
 cluding the stakes much less than public report 
 chose to attribute to them. Priam walked over for 
 the Ascot Derby in the course of the next fortnight, 
 and became an immense favourite for the St. Leger, 
 for which they very fairly concluded that he could not 
 be beaten. 
 
 No horse could do better during the summer ; and 
 it was with high hopes of making a more brilliant 
 stroke than ever, that Will Chifney again set out on 
 his walking pilgrimage with him to Doncaster early 
 in September. Stilton was their goal on the first 
 day ; and on the next they pushed forward to Exton 
 Park, the seat of the late Sir Gerard Noel, some five 
 or six miles from Stamford. Here a halt was made 
 for nearly a week, during which Priam was sweated, 
 
154 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 and did some good work each morning in the Park. 
 Bebington was the third stage, and Retford the fourth. 
 Mr. Clarke was not at home when Will gave a passing 
 call at his cheerful hostelrie at Barnby Moor ; but his 
 good spouse took a look at Priam, and sent out her 
 best ale to the lads to drink the Derby winner's 
 health. When they reached the Intake-farm stables, 
 Will Chifney was disposed to consider Birmingham, 
 by Filho da Puta a great brown seventeen-hand 
 horse, with the Haphazard and Orvile strains in him 
 as his most dangerous opponent; till Sam Day, who 
 had ridden Cetus against him at Warwick, assured 
 him that Priam had nothing to fear, and that in his 
 opinion Birmingham would not like the distance. The 
 horse did strong work (though by no means so severe 
 as the Northern trainers chose to report) on the Town 
 Moor up to the Sunday before the race, which was 
 then always run on a Tuesday ; and mindful of Malek's 
 celebrated bolt to his corn-bin, Will would never lead 
 him on or off it by the Intake-farm Gate, but skirted it 
 through gaps purposely made in the hedges of the 
 Corporation Meadows, and so through the gate near 
 the Rubbing House. The weather for some days 
 before the St. Leger had been so bad, that, as old Will 
 Carter was wont to say, the course was " deluded with 
 wet," and the twenty-eight starters were nearly up to 
 their fetlocks between the T.Y.C. post and the Red 
 House, at which latter point the water literally stood 
 in pools. Sam did not at all relish the immense stride 
 of Birmingham, as he took his canter alongside of him, 
 amid thunder, rain, and lightning. The brown was so 
 powerful that Connolly could hardly hold him ; and 
 it was all he could do to pull him from the edge of 
 the ditch, into which the pair nearly rolled head- 
 long. Before they reached the Intake turn, the heavy 
 ground had brought Priam to grief; but he struggled 
 gamely home, and was only beaten by half a length. 
 The Chifneys made no excuse for the horse on the 
 
P} tarn and Zinganee. 155 
 
 score of condition, as they believed him to be some 
 pounds better than he had been on the Derby day; 
 and it was apparent to his backers that sound 
 ground would have made all the difference. Hence 
 Mr. Tattersall made an offer to run him against Bir- 
 mingham over the same course at even weights on the 
 Friday, and lay 2OOO/. to iooo/. on him, or to run him 
 for iooo/. even, A.F. at Newmarket in the First 
 Spring, and give 3lbs. ; but both these offers were 
 declined. 
 
 After a day's rest, Priam was all fresh again ; and 
 with 2 to I on him, and receiving only $lbs. for 
 his year from Retriever, beat the latter quite easily 
 in a 500 sovs. (h. ft.) match at a mile and a half. 
 This defeat sent Retriever to 20 to I for the Cup, 
 which he won from Medora, Laurel, Fleur-de-lis, &c., 
 on the next day ; and caused Lord Glasgow to fall 
 back on Harry Edwards for an explanation of his 
 horse's running in the match, and to make proposals 
 for another at Newmarket in the spring, which even- 
 tually went off by consent. About the November of 
 this year, Mr. Payne and Will Chifney had some nego- 
 tiations about Priam ; but, fortunately for Will, who 
 was not indisposed to sell for 2000 guineas, they also 
 fell through. He had lost none of his form when the 
 doors of the Newmarket Stands and Rubbing Houses 
 once more creaked, after a winter's idleness, on their 
 rusty hinges ; and with Robinson on him, won both 
 the Craven Stakes and the Port. In the former of 
 these races he beat a field of ten, among whom was 
 Tranby, who distinguished himself so much in Mr. 
 Osbaldeston's 200 mile match in the November of that 
 year. Sir Sandford Graham was rather sweet on him 
 about this time, but he thought too long about it ; 
 and Lord Chesterfield who then owned his half- 
 brother by Middleton, and had got back Zinganee 
 from the Royal Stud purchased him for 3000 guineas 
 the evening after he had won the Port. High prices 
 
1 56 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 for tried horses were more frequent in those days than 
 they are now, and the Chifneys seemed always to be 
 in the thick of them. Lord Darlington would have 
 gladly given 4000 guineas for Mameluke shortly after 
 the Derby, and Mr. Thornhill bid Mr. Batson 5000 
 guineas for Plenipo a few weeks before the memorable 
 Ascot Cup of '35. Mr. Gully in the one instance 
 just anticipated the Earl, and Mr. Batson, at, we 
 believe, the instance of his eldest son, declined to part 
 with his horse at any price. 
 
 Priam's first essay for Lord Chesterfield was at the 
 First Spring, in a 200 h. ft. 8st. /Ibs. each match, 
 over the T.M.M., against Lucetta, who was a year 
 his senior, and had won the Ascot Cup in the pre- 
 vious June. Sir Mark Wood had originally given 
 2000 guineas for this mare, on the strength of a 
 private trial, and in the plenitude of his confidence 
 gave orders to Robinson to try and cut Priam down. 
 The spirit with which each animal was supported was 
 akin to that in which the backers of St. Hubert and 
 Lord of the Isles indulged for " The Two Thousand," 
 when "The Squire" observed that, "to hear them 
 talk, their horses must be more than clippers they're 
 alarmers." It was a very severely run match, and 
 created enormous interest ; but Sam made very short 
 work of the Hare Park mare when he challenged in 
 the ropes. This was the last time Sam was on him ; 
 and in the whole of his victories, except this, either 
 Buckle, Connolly, or Robinson were his steersmen. 
 The latter knew him to a nicety ; and, in fact, Lord 
 Chesterfield's regular jockey, Connolly, thought he 
 went so oddly in his gallop on the Tuesday before the 
 Goodwood Cup (1831), that he called to Robinson, 
 who was on the ground, and requested him to give 
 him a canter. " Our Jim " returned the horse with 
 an assurance that he was all right, and he won the 
 Cup easily enough, and repeated the performance in 
 the following year under Qst I3lbs. Weight and 
 
Priam and Zinganee. 157 
 
 distance were no particular object to him, as he beat 
 Lucetta cleverly over the Queen's Plate Course at 
 Newmarket in the same week they ran their match, 
 carrying list, to her list. 9lbs. Perhaps his great- 
 est performance was in the Second October of 1831, 
 when he gave i61bs. to Augustus in a 300 sovs. (or, 
 as it was generally thought, a 500 sovs. p. p.) match 
 across the Flat. Augustus had always been a name 
 of dread to the Chifneys, long before the Derby, and 
 they had endeavoured to buy him out of Priam's 
 road ; but their fears, which were somewhat increased 
 after he won the Two Thousand Guineas, proved 
 groundless, as he was only fourth to him at Epsom. 
 In the present match, which was the most dashing 
 that Lord Chesterfield ever made, and caused some 
 heavy betting, Augustus made all the running at a 
 great pace, and put Priam into such desperate diffi- 
 culties at the Bushes, under his 9st. 2lbs., that it was 
 all Robinson could do to prevent him running out 
 on to the lands. The Sultan blood of Augustus was, 
 however, none of the stoutest, and he died away so 
 completely in Will Arnull's hands, as he rose the 
 hill, that Robinson, who had got a pull at his horse, 
 was just enabled to catch him a few strides from the 
 chair, and win by half a length. He did not start 
 in 1831-32 for the Doncaster Cup, in both of which 
 years his old rival Birmingham was fifth for it to 
 The Saddler and Gallopade ; and he never went 
 through the great Ascot Cup test of Derby and St. 
 Leger winners, which brought fresh laurels to Mem- 
 non, Touchstone (twice), Van Tromp, Flying Dutch- 
 man, Teddington, and West Australian ; and which 
 Mameluke, Rowton, The Colonel, Cadland, Rocking- 
 ham, Plenipo, Bloomsbury, Attila, Foig-a-Ballagh, 
 Cossack, Voltigeur, Stockvvell, and Saucebox all 
 essayed in vain. Although Will Chifney knew that 
 Priam would not be allowed to start for it in 1831, he 
 entered him, for a sort of sale advertisement, as well 
 
1 5 8 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 PS a protest against the exclusiveness of the new rule. 
 In the following year he was "off;" and Rowton, 
 Camarine, and The Saddler were the only starters. 
 The rule that no horses should start, except they were 
 the property of members of the Jockey Club, or 
 Brookes's, or White's, was established in 1830. It 
 really and truly arose out of the annoyance which was 
 felt by the King and his Court (just as the course was 
 cleared for the Zinganee Cup race) at a non-titled 
 owner going to the door of the Royal Stand, and re- 
 questing, in what they deemed too authoritative a 
 tone, to speak to Lord Maryborough about some 
 defect in the course arrangements. 
 
 At the close of the season of 1832, the confederacy 
 between Lord Chesterfield and Mr. Greville was dis- 
 solved, and his lordship's horses quitted Prince's charge 
 for John Scott's. Priam never reached Malton, but 
 retired into private life along with Zinganee at Bretby 
 Park, where his fee was 30 sovereigns, or thrice as 
 much as that of his less esteemed companion, which, 
 however, subsequently rose to 15 sovereigns. The 
 latter, in spite of his ill-luck, had always been a great 
 favourite with his lordship, as he was the first heavy 
 purchase he had made, at a time when his stud, which 
 increased in after years to nearly thirty, only con- 
 sisted of five. Sultan was the premier of that day, 
 and fifty sovereigns were charged for his services, 
 while Emilius was priced at forty, and Partisan at 
 twenty. On the turf Priam was only twice defeated, 
 and he remained in England for nearly four seasons. 
 Green Mantle was one of the first mares that arrived 
 at his paddocks, but Troilus was no very worthy son, 
 and, in fact, with the exception of the Dey of Algiers, 
 he can hardly be said to have got a colt of any note. 
 His fillies were very superior, and he left behind him a 
 yearling and a two-year-old (Miss Letty and Industry), 
 both of whom took Oaks honours, as well as Octa- 
 viana, in foal with Crucifix. Lord Chesterfield parted 
 
Priam and Zinganee. 159 
 
 with him in the Second October Meeting (the very 
 week that Sam's Fidget Farm was sold) to Mr. Tat- 
 tersall, who bid 3500 guineas for him, on behalf of an 
 American breeder. Brother Jonathan was determined 
 to fly at high game, and have no ring-tailed roarer, 
 and hence the fame of the purchase spread so far and 
 wide through the States, that he got back a great 
 part of his purchase money in the very first season-; 
 and all attempts to redeem him at 4000 guineas for 
 England were utterly useless. 
 
 Epsom had nothing more for the Chifneys in its 
 lucky-bag after they drew its great prize with Priam, 
 but they started two for the Derby in the following 
 year to wit, Exile with Macdonald " up," while Sam 
 rode the Surprise filly at 4lbs. overweight. The filly 
 was equally unfortunate in the Oaks, though Sam 
 wasted 2lbs. on the evening of the Derby, in order to 
 start her on even terms with Oxygen and her other 
 lady-friends on the morrow. Will lent her to Mr. Osbal- 
 deston, when he rode his great match on the Round 
 Course against time, in the following November ; and 
 she did her four miles in 9 minutes 10 seconds no 
 bad performance for a three-year-old over such a 
 course, and under list. 4lbs. Emiliana made nothing 
 out in the Derby of 1832 ; but Harry Edwards and 
 Sam were both in the Chifney green on the Derby 
 day of 1833; the former on Prince Llewellyn, and 
 the latter on Moorhen, whose dam (Shoveller) he had 
 just shoved in first for the Oaks some 14 years before. 
 The two brothers did not agree on this occasion about 
 their nags' forms, as Will Chifney thought very highly 
 of Prince Llewellyn, while Sam would not have it, 
 and preferred wasting down to 8st. 2lbs. for Moorhen, 
 who beat the Prince in their places. This filly had 
 the honour that autumn of giving Frank Butler his 
 first winning mount at Newmarket, in a handicap plate, 
 against a field of ten. Frank (who rode /st. 2lbs. in 
 the above race) was never in his uncles' stables, but 
 
160 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 attended occasionally to gallop their horses, and ride 
 trials ; and he always owned with honest family 
 pride, that the eminence which he afterwards attained 
 in the saddle was not a little owing to the valuable 
 hints he received from them. 
 
 Although William was hard hit by Prince Llewellyn, 
 he was so far from being disheartened, that he gave 
 John Scott I4OO/. for Connoisseur, who had run 
 second for the Derby, and determined to make a last 
 effort for the St. Leger. The Whitewall form, how- 
 ever, could not be improved upon, and the brown son 
 of Chateau Margaux and Frailty was sold, soon after 
 his Doncaster race, for 600 guineas, to Count 
 Batthyany, and died on shipboard, en route to Hun- 
 gary. The defeat of the Duke of Cleveland's Shil- 
 lelah for the Derby, and the building of a handsome 
 house at Newmarket, which was occupied by the 
 Bradleys, dealt a decisive blow to the Chifney 
 fortunes; and in the June of 1834, their stud was 
 brought to the hammer. The elegant Rowton passed 
 into Jem Eland's hands at loco guineas, and 
 Shillelah's dam and Emiliana at 320 guineas each ; 
 while the Marquis of Westminster bought a Whisker 
 filly at 260 guineas, the same price as was given by 
 Lord Darlington for a Sam mare. An Emilianus 
 colt also went to Raby, and a Sam gelding was bought 
 in. But once more were the colours of the family 
 seen at Epsom, where they were sported by Frank 
 Butler in his maiden mount for the Derby, on The 
 Athenian, in 1836. Frank's luck on that occasion 
 very faintly foreshadowed the two St. Legers, two 
 Derbies, and six Oaks which were in store for him, as 
 his sadly wayward colt, after causing an infinity of 
 false starts, was left behind at the post. 
 
 After 1834, Sam ceased to go North altogether, 
 and what little riding he had from that date, was con- 
 fined to Newmarket, Ascot, and Epsom. He whipped- 
 in for the Derby on Lord Chesterfield's Critic in 1837, 
 
Priam and Zingance. 1 6 r 
 
 and never got off at all on Mr. Payne's Young 
 Rowton, out of Emiliana, for the same stake in the 
 following year. The jockeys were so unprepared for 
 the actual start, that several of them half-stopped 
 their horses, feeling sure that it would not be one ; 
 and Sam actually had his chestnut's head turned the 
 contrary way at the moment the ill-timed signal was 
 given. St. Francis (Pettit) was in the same predi- 
 cament, and oddly enough, it is in connexion with his 
 magnificent riding of this companion in trouble, that 
 many of our more modern turfites date their Sam 
 Chifney recollections. He was a little strong horse 
 by St. Patrick, and perhaps one of the most shifty 
 and idle animals that a jockey ever crossed. " Lazy 
 Lanercost" was a piece of quicksilver compared to 
 him. Robinson and Chifney both agreed that in all 
 their experience they had never met with one that was 
 half so difficult to ride ; and both were generally 
 quite exhausted when they weighed in. A more 
 varmint-looking pair never paraded before the Ascot 
 Grand Stand than Sam on the Saint, who whiske3 his 
 long switch tail about in not the pleasantest of moods, 
 when he felt that his plain snaffle was in hands which 
 would brook no nonsense. The horse belonged to 
 Mr. Gurney, who was an especial friend, and trained 
 with Mr. Thornhill at Pettit's ; and it was by the wish 
 of the latter that Sam was " put up" in several of his 
 races. 
 
 The Ascot Cup of 1840 was his leading victory ; 
 but the severest task was the riding him for a ioo/. 
 D.I. Plate in one of the Houghton Meetings. On this 
 occasion Robinson beckoned to Butler, as he met him 
 cantering on his hack towards the cords, and said, 
 " Come back with me, and F II show you a treat of your 
 uncle s riding such as you never saw yet. Hds got St. 
 Francis in hand to-day, and I know what a slug he 
 is r Accordingly the two stationed themselves at 
 the turn of the lands, and when the horses came to- 
 
1 62 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 wards them, Butler exclaimed " Why my uncle's 
 horse is dead beat he will be last !" " Come along!' 
 rejoined Robinson, smiling ; "you'll hear a different 
 tale at the chair ;" and when they did get there, Frank 
 vowed he would "take care and never- believe again 
 that my uncles beaten till he's past the post'' Lord 
 Jersey and two or three more of the Jockey Club, 
 saw the race about two distances from home, and 
 even there St. Francis seemed to be shirking his 
 work so completely from distress, that they could 
 hardly believe their ears, when they heard that the 
 judge had given him the race by two or three 
 lengths. 
 
 Sam's riding of Bloomsbury against Robinson on 
 Clarion, for the Cesarewitch of 1839, a l so created a 
 great deal of talk at the time, and was one of the most 
 exciting finishes ever known on the Heath. Coming 
 through the Ditch-gap, he was nearly 150 yards behind 
 the light weights, who were raking away at a fearful 
 pace ; but he crept up so gradually inch by inch across 
 the flat that when Robinson found him at his quarters, 
 he involuntarily exclaimed " Where the devil didyoii 
 come from ?' His rush was one of the most tremendous 
 he ever made ; but the horse flinched under nine stone, 
 and he was most bitterly disappointed to hear that the 
 race had been given against him by a neck. He 
 came up right under the judge's chair, while Clarion 
 ran rather wide, and he always maintained that the 
 judge had overlooked him. We cannot say how far 
 his belief was correct, but not a few sided with him ; 
 and it was well known to be rather a failing of the late 
 Mr. Clark's to overlook the horse who ran close under 
 the chair, as in the cases of Little Red Rover, Stock- 
 well, and Merry Peal. Still these oversights^ if they 
 were such (and we can only state our own opinion on 
 the last), were mere specks in a career of thirty years 
 in the Newmarket judgment-seat, which was occupied 
 from 1805 to 1822 by his father, and since 1852 by 
 
Priam and Zinganee. 163 
 
 his son. Mr. Nightingale once gave a race in Scot- 
 land by " two or three inches," but perhaps the most 
 difficult finish to decide was the Zetland Stakes at 
 the York Spring of '56. We asked Mr. Johnson how 
 he ever contrived to place them as he did, and he told 
 us that when he saw the five hard at it head and 
 head, he felt that he dared not watch them as they 
 came, but turned and kept his eyes firm on the white 
 line, and just hit them off with a glance as they passed 
 it. If he had given it a dead heat of five, neither 
 jockeys nor spectators would have been a whit the 
 wiser, though the "roughs" chose to be savagely 
 critical when Mildew beat Cantab at York, and sent 
 Mr. Clark in hot haste from the chair to the weighing- 
 room. Sam never forgot many of his father's precepts, 
 and always liked "to lie under the wind" in a race, 
 but he had none of his love of check cords, and seldom 
 resorted to his desperate resort of spurring a horse in 
 the brisket. " I find when it comes to the last spring," 
 Old Sam used to say, " I can get a head there when I 
 can get it nowhere else." Sam also rode closer with 
 his knees, and was not so loose and slovenly in his 
 jockey costume, and although both are equally silent 
 and proud in their way, especially in refusing mounts 
 they did not like, no one ever saw the younger one 
 perpetually on the trot up and down Newmarket 
 "with his coat buttoned behind," a practice which 
 seemed to keep the senior in riding form. Old Mat 
 Stephenson was however much more unique in his 
 dress, and always wore a rusty hunting cap when he 
 superintended the sweats, and had a boy carrying the 
 spare sweating cloths on an old coach horse, which 
 eventually glandered nearly all Lord Grosvenor's 
 string. 
 
 But we are not yet quite at the ending post with 
 Sam. In 1842 he rode the bay colt by Agreeable, 
 dam by Sam, for Mr. Meiklam, in the Derby, where 
 he ran fifth ; and also wasted and went to Done aster 
 
 M 2 
 
1 64 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 to ride the same colt for the St. Leger, for which he 
 was "milked" and scratched. His 1843-44 mounts 
 were entirely confined to Mr. Thornhill, at whose 
 Newmarket house and stables he resided till the 
 November of 1851, when he removed to Hove, near 
 Brighton. At Newmarket, his great pleasure, for the 
 six years after he retired, was to stroll out on to the 
 heath to see the gallops ; but he was very indifferent 
 about races generally, except when really good horses 
 were to meet. He bade farewell to Newmarket with 
 the Houghton Meeting of 1852, and never visited 
 Epsom after the day that " Frank" and West Austra- 
 lian won the Derby. The last race-meeting that he 
 ever attended was the Brighton one of the same year, 
 as he was too ill to get so far even from Hove, when 
 its next anniversary came round. We spied his spare 
 figure, in his black surtout and large hat, for the last 
 time, as he quietly strolled down Piccadilly, and 
 chatted with a few friends in front of the White Bear, 
 on a fine June day, just before the Ascot Meeting of 
 
 1853. He had been ill about a month before he died ; 
 and his brother William had been to visit him ; 
 but a second summons failed to reach him in time, 
 and when he saw him again he was in his coffin. 
 His death took place towards the end of August, 
 
 1854, two months before he had completed his 6gth 
 year, and ten years and a quarter after he had quitted 
 the saddle, and he was buried in the beautiful 
 churchyard of Hove, which lies hard by his late re- 
 sidence. 
 
 Brighton and its neighbourhood had always been a 
 favourite spot with him, as he remembered it in the 
 days when the Prince Regent kept court at its Pa- 
 vilion, and laughed at the story of how "little Sam" 
 and Will Edwards, in 1802, had led the Celia filly to its 
 meeting all the way from Stockbridge, and ridden 
 her in turns by the way. The Prince never forgot the 
 incident, and it strengthened the good impression 
 
Priam and Zinganee. 165 
 
 which Sam's first appearance in the Royal purple on 
 the filly at Stockbridge had created. The mould has 
 long since rattled dismally on the coffin-lids of those 
 lords and ladies gay, and our own task as biographers 
 is ended. We began with a little lad of six seated on 
 Kit Karr at Newmarket, and his father, the first horse- 
 man of his day, in the stall at his side, and we have 
 traced that lad's history through many a night of 
 weariness and many a weary day, till he finished his 
 cast like a wreck on the sea-beach of life. All is 
 past now, and the old weather-beaten jockey, after 
 his fitful span of trouble and victory, and leaving the 
 Chifney rush as a proverb to all time, sleeps at last 
 near the spot where in 1804 the seal was first set to 
 his boyish fortunes. Peace to his memory ! 
 
i66 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 CARDSELLERS, TOUTS, AND AUGURS. 
 
 " The bell is ringing for the start : 
 
 There's ' Sim' in blue and white, 
 With Heseltine in red, and ' Job 5 
 
 In lilac, and Cartwright ; 
 There's Holmes in blue and scarlet sleeves, 
 
 And now I can descry 
 The tartan vest and yellow cap 
 Of Mr. Thomas Lye." 
 
 Yorkshire Ballad. 
 
 IT is not many years since an Oxford under- 
 graduate went to chapel on a " surplice evening," 
 fresh from the joys of a wine party. The anthem 
 was " Oh, that I had wings like a dove !" and the 
 first few bars had scarcely been got through by the 
 choristers, when their half-" mesmerized " auditor 
 roused himself, and, utterly reckless of rustication 
 and its consequences, suddenly stretched out his 
 surpliced arms, and flapping them with a mighty 
 rushing sound, sung out at the very top of his voice 
 " Oh, that I had wings like a jolly, jolly duck !" 
 We have been told that his adjectives were still more 
 forcible ; but, great as was the consternation of the 
 college dons at this untoward event, it was not one 
 whit greater than that felt three-and-forty years be- 
 fore, by a large coterie of the Newmarketers, when 
 it first transpired that their quiet, red faced little 
 chum, Dan Dawson Dan Dawson, who was always 
 so sociable with them over his pipe and pot in an 
 
Cardsellers, Touts, and Aiigurs. 167 
 
 evening, and who warbled forth from a throat un- 
 conscious of the growing hemp the very ,choicest of 
 Bacchanal songs whenever his turn came round 
 had sunk into a low horse poisoner. He had 
 married a lady's maid, and knew French so well, that 
 when on one occasion Lord Stowell (who espied him 
 hard by) was relating to his friends, in that language, 
 the news of a trial which Neale had given his horses 
 that morning, he came up with a most impudent air, 
 giving his lordship joy of having so good a horse, and 
 adding, " I thought he'd win, my Lord let me stand 
 in 5/. and I'll not tell." And no doubt he did not 
 tell, till he met his great patrons Joe and Jim Bland. 
 Bishop, an ex-Guy's dispenser, was his confederate in 
 the matter, and turned King's evidence for the sake 
 of the 500 guineas reward which was offered by the 
 Jockey Club, and which it was said they never paid 
 him, after all. Two of Mr. Kit Wilson's July 
 Stakes horses at Perren's stables were those they 
 wished to get at, but as three or four locked troughs 
 stood together at the back of John Stevens's, they 
 mistook between them, and the result was that 
 thirteen of Stevens's lot which were then temporarily 
 under the charge of David Jones, were taken ill, and 
 two of them died. The symptoms were excessive re- 
 laxation (for science has hitherto failed in making 
 horses vomit) ; and when the two were opened, they 
 were as rotten as a pear. The guilty couple had 
 lifted the padlocked lids as high as they could, and 
 poured in the arsenic at nightfall ; and the very hens 
 when they drank of it fluttered feebly, and then died, 
 while the stable cat ran about like a maniac. Dan 
 escaped on this indictment, as well as on that charg- 
 ing him with poisoning Sir F. Standish's Periwi and 
 Lord Kinnaird's The Dandy, which stood at Prince's ; 
 but the Foley indictment was fatal. He lodged at 
 a house opposite " Old Q's" residence, to be near 
 the field of his touting labours. His favourite maxim 
 
1 68 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 was, that "those who lay in bed in a morning at 
 Newmarket did no good for themselves ;" and he 
 had such confidence in his peculiar powers, that if 
 Lord Foley's string had consisted of "eleven^?;* 
 hundred" instead of eleven, he " could have physicked 
 them all." Lord Foley, to whom he made several 
 disclosures after his sentence, tried hard to save his 
 life : but the Home Secretary of that day was inexor- 
 able, and on August 8, 1812, the white cap was 
 drawn over his face on the top of Cambridge gaol. 
 Several persons drove over from Newmarket to have 
 a last look at him, and were admitted into the gaol 
 yard, as a special favour. They were talking in a 
 cluster by an iron-studded door, when it opened, and 
 the poor pinioned criminal came so suddenly upon 
 them, that Will Arnull almost tumbled backwards 
 into his arm. " Good-bye ; God bless you / my New- 
 market lads ; you see I can't shake hands with you. 
 Good-bye /" was all the former could say, as he tot- 
 tered towards the scaffold ; and the governor after- 
 wards assured his visitors that they had totally 
 unmanned him by this unexpected interview. 
 
 A few years before this " Nobbier King" ascended 
 the drop, a taste for operations during Newmarket 
 Races had brought the career of the notorious pick- 
 pocket Barrington to a close. He had thrown aside 
 his clerical guise, his regimentals, and the full-dress 
 coat, sword, bag-wig, and pink powder, in which it 
 was his wont to honour Ranelagh, and was smoking 
 his pipe and talking the broadest Doric, after the 
 labours of the day, in the chimney-corner of the Swan 
 at Bottisham, about two miles from the Beacon Post, 
 when one of the Cambridge race-goers recognised 
 him under his carter's smock frock disguise. He 
 blanched palpably at last, under the long searching 
 stare which he received, and being too weary to run 
 over such an open country, slunk out only to try 
 and hide himself in an outhouse, from whence he 
 
Cardsellers, ToiUs, and Augurs. 169 
 
 was shortly afterwards gazetted to Botany Bay, about 
 the same time that his great namesake was translated 
 to Durham. 
 
 The touts of the present day form a very large 
 class on the turf, and are constantly recruited by a 
 never-failing supply of over-grown grooms, who burst 
 on to the prophetic world of literature as "Voltigeur," 
 " Goldfinder," and the like. About forty or fifty of 
 them live in Newmarket, and receive about I/, is. a 
 week from their employers, whose weekly reports 
 have been sadly less lucid since the new trial-course 
 came into use ; it takes, however, no ordinary vigi- 
 lance to baffle them, and their devices would be 
 worthy of Field himself. The mere skirters of the 
 fraternity are great in the "outer ring," and from 
 what we once witnessed in a train, we suspect that 
 not a few of the poorest contrive to get along the 
 railways by occasionally "squaring" the guard. The 
 publichouse is their great sphere of action ; and 
 in one instance one of the most distinguished of 
 the craft casually learnt all he required from a 
 village whitewasher, who revealed to him over a 
 can of ale, for which the " very civil drovier chap" 
 insisted on paying, that the object of his search, 
 "A horse with two white heels / don't know the 
 name" had walked very lame behind, as he was 
 shifted during the whitewashing process from one box 
 to another. The unconscious knight of the brush 
 little knew what suspicions he had confirmed, and 
 what telegraph-wires he set to work before evening 
 closed in. The Flying Dutchman was watched by a 
 perfect squadron of them before the Derby, and 
 Fobert in fact counted sixteen heads, looking like as 
 many crows in file, watching the horse from behind a 
 wall near Spigot Lodge as he came out for exercise. 
 One of the leaders candidly informed him that he had 
 " orders to see him in and out," but that on due 
 notice, he "would retire like a gentleman to a dis- 
 
1 70 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 tance," whenever he wished to have a trial. Ted- 
 dington's trial was known in Newmarket (though 
 not fully believed) a few hours after it was run, and 
 Cataract and Sorella were the objects of particular 
 attention when they were matched. When Bill Scott 
 used to live near Knavesmire, his motions were 
 watched night and day, whenever a trial at Malton 
 was about to come off, and it was almost impossible 
 for him to steal away from York at any time of the 
 night without having them on his track. Some of 
 them are put on by the backers of a horse " to bon- 
 net" him, and then, as Mr. Harry Hill observes, 
 " they wink $s if they were going to knock an omnibus 
 over;" and many of the principal owners employ a 
 private tout of their own, often a young ex-jockey, 
 who has acquired a good knowledge of styles of 
 going, and perhaps make him stick to one horse they 
 fancy, or the reverse, for a whole season. 
 
 The racing tipsters have much less patronage than 
 formerly, before " Geoffrey Greenhorn" laid a trap for 
 them, and published the tips he received in The Life. 
 Professor Ingledue, M.A., the mesmerist, is silent ; 
 and if their subscribers, " for whose interests I have 
 collected my old and able staff, with many additional 
 ones, who are already at work in the training dis- 
 tricts," could only get a sight of the "old and able 
 staff," they would find it consisting of a man and a 
 boy, " at work" in the back room of a London public- 
 house, and sending different winners for every race to 
 their subscribers. At one of the Yorkshire training 
 towns a schoolmaster commenced as prophet to a 
 London paper, and it turned out that he had got all 
 his information by writing the letters for the touts 
 between school hours. 
 
 Their advertisements furnish a fine field for any 
 future compiler of " Curiosities of Literature." Some 
 are headed " My tongue is not for falsehood framed ;" 
 " California without cholera Gold without danger ;" 
 
Cardsellers, Touts, and Augii.rs. 171 
 
 and " The Hero of a Hundred Fights." James Bes- 
 borough gently eulogises himself, and " although 
 hating self-praise and idle puff, so prevalent in the 
 present day, boldly defies the world to find his equal." 
 There is also a breadth and point about the writings 
 of another seer, to wit, " Joe of Kensington," which 
 quite takes one by storm. At times he assures us 
 that he " has been travelling about to have a peep at 
 the Derby favourites, a privilege no other gentleman 
 possibly could have ;" and we next hear that " out of 
 pure envy at my position, the attacks made on me 
 have become so slanderous, that I prefer instituting 
 legal proceedings, rather than condescend to mix 
 myself up in any way with those making them." 
 
 The minstrel poets of the racecourse sometimes 
 write those ballads, which they sing with such unrest- 
 ing diligence, and such screw-face contortions ; and 
 generally begin them with " You sportsmen all, both 
 great and small, one moment now attend, and listen 
 with attention to these verses I have penned ;" or 
 get on to terms with their listeners at once, by ex- 
 horting them to " Come all you jolly sporting coves, 
 and listen unto me, whilst a song I do relate, that 
 shall be sung with glee." Rhyme and reason never 
 stand in the way of these bards. We find it on record 
 of a horse, who " did the Derby win ; like lightning 
 he flew round the course, upon his nimble pin ;" and 
 again, " The crack took up the running ground, and 
 bent his well-formed legs, till he reached the winning- 
 post, then shook his splendid pegs ;" on the very day 
 when 
 
 " He went to Epsom Down, 
 And won the Derby Stake, 6320!." 
 
 Of the general literature of the turf it boots us not 
 to speak in detail. We would merely observe, en 
 passant, that we have ARGUS, .that Jules Janin of 
 racing feuilletonists, at the very head of it, in the Post 
 (whose sporting fame was first laid by JUDEX, who 
 
1 72 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 doffed his conjuring- cap in Ugly Buck's year) ; and 
 that we have never read anything more spirited than 
 the now ancient verse prophecies of Vates in The 
 Life, or anything more unique in their way than the 
 Era Epistles of " Joe Muggins's Dog." The latter 
 name has become so familiar to the ears of the public, 
 that if ever an unhappy racing prophet mounts a 
 witness-box, almost the first question that is asked 
 him on cross-examination, is, whether he is or is not 
 the original " Dog." This canine fame has been 
 wafted across the Atlantic, and the younger of the 
 two writers between whom it rests, had high literary 
 homage paid him, on the strength of it, at New York, 
 and was ultimately invited to a banquet. After many 
 ups and downs, The Field has become " a great fact" 
 among sportsmen at last. The Old Sporting and 
 New Sporting Magazines, and The Sportsman, fought 
 for a series of years over the body of Nimrod ; and in 
 1839 tne proprietor of the Sporting Review entered 
 the field, and ultimately bought up his three rivals. 
 Their distinct titles and covers are sfill retained, but 
 the matter and illustrations of all four are the same. 
 The York Herald has from time immemorial been a 
 first-rate authority on these matters ; and the Doncas- 
 ter Gazette, as in duty bound, has wrestled most vigo- 
 rously for the race rights of the burgesses, for many a 
 long year. The Chester and Worcester papers generally 
 break out in a slight rash as their meetings draw nigh, 
 but the symptoms are very mild : while the experi- 
 ment of a strictly turf paper in Nottingham completely 
 failed, and its prophet " Timothy," deserted to the 
 enemy. The prophets, as a body, suffered most in 
 1852, when the Daily News, sly and cruel cynic as it 
 was, collected, for weeks before, every Derby pro- 
 phecy, metropolitan and provincial, which it could lay 
 its hands on, and spread a complete panic among the 
 regiment (not one of whom had whispered Daniel 
 O'Rourke's name), when it charged them, quotations 
 
Cardsellers, To^lts, and Augurs. 173 
 
 in hand, on the Thursday of the Derby week. It has 
 nevertheless (1856) fallen into the fashion at last, and 
 keeps its own prophet, " Meteor," who, after having 
 special attention called by advertisement to his 
 auguries, succeeded in prophesying the twenty-third 
 horse as the winner ! Punch once made a Derby pro- 
 phecy, and went for Newcourt, on the ground that no 
 other prophet had even mentioned him. Grave 
 weeklies occasionally undertake to comment ironically 
 on the turf and its doings ; but owing to the writers' 
 spirited but impotent efforts to deal with racing terms, 
 the articles are barely English. One had a long one 
 on the St. Leger of 1854, in which it made Ivan the 
 winner ; and another disposed of the Goodwood 
 Meeting by simply saying that it " came off on Tues- 
 day ; Quince was the leading horse, winning easily by 
 a length." Shoe Lane has given up her sporting 
 oracle " Bunbury," who had a mania for " time- 
 handicaps," and regularly republished the great handi- 
 caps corrected on that scale ! " Vates" was long on 
 the Morning Advertiser; the Globe had " ^Esop ;" 
 the Sun, "A Fresh Man ;" the Daily Telegraph com- 
 menced by announcing the prophecies of " Her- 
 cules ;" and the Racing Times had great success with 
 " Priam." After all, there is nothing richer than the 
 style in which the minor prophets were wont to gloss 
 over their mistakes. Speaking of the Derby of 1854, 
 in which they came nearer the mark than usual, one 
 said 
 
 " There are no IFS, or SHOULDS, or GOULDS, or DOUBTS in our pro- 
 phecy. THE MOUSE boldly said I, Andover ! 2, Wild Huntsman ! ! 
 3, Dervish ! ! ! What is the result ? Andover is FIRST I At Tatten- 
 ham Corner Wild Huntsman led, followed by Dervish, the latter even 
 now claiming the fourth place." 
 
 And again 
 
 " We must congratulate our readers on the fulfilment of THE MOUSE'S 
 PROPHECY for the OAKS. He gave OMOO first, METEORA second. 
 OMOO did not run ; but METEORA came in second ; while, owing to 
 the weather possibly, Mincemeat, an outsider, won." 
 
1 74 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 The oddest piece of second sight we remember was 
 that of a Newmarket trainer, who dreamt, after 
 Knight of St. George was nearly last for the Derby, 
 that he would win the St. Leger ; and dreaming it a 
 second time, on the eve of the race, sent a commission 
 to back him ; while the prophecy of Vates, which 
 ended with 
 
 " "Pis over the trick for the thousands is done 
 George Edwards on Phosphorus the Derby has won !" 
 
 is the most remarkable on record, save and except 
 one in Mr. Snewing's 1845 circular, which actually 
 placed Intrepid (a complete outsider) first, and St. 
 Lawrence second for the Chester Cup, some months 
 before the race. The clairvoyant female, too, no 
 longer offers to consult the stars for thirty postage- 
 stamps, on a Derby eve, but has shrunk into her 
 " original tipster" dimensions. If " Maria" could only 
 be seen by mortal eye, she would be in a cut-away 
 and high-lows ! 
 
 Race reporting is a distinct branch of writing, and 
 was first reduced to a perfect science by the late Mr. 
 Ruff, who commenced his labours on The Life soon 
 after 1820, and continued them until the summer of 
 I ^53 when he retired, and never visited a racecourse 
 again during the three and a half seasons which inter- 
 vened between his retirement and his death. His 
 race reports were marvellous specimens of pithy con- 
 densation, and his conversation was strictly on the 
 same "potted soup" principle. In Mr. Langley's 
 hands The Life has well sustained its " Nunquam 
 Dormio" prestige; and Mr. Ruff's place as sporting 
 reporter to the daily papers is capitally supplied by 
 Mr. A. Feist, of the Sunday Times, who succeeded 
 his father. The late Mr. Feist was a man of very 
 varied accomplishments, and the judge and several of 
 the leading jockeys were his pupils when he wielded 
 the ferule in Newmarket. Railway parcels and tele- 
 
Cardsellers, Touts, and Augurs* 175 
 
 graphs are the sporting papers' " mediums" now ; hut 
 their ancient handmaids, the express-pigeons, did 
 them right good service in the days when Sir Vincent 
 Cotton drove The Age, and Professor Wheatstone 
 was a name unknown. They generally flew the fifty- 
 five miles from Goodwood to London in about one 
 hour and fifteen minutes ; and it was necessary to 
 teach them the ground by a succession of flights, be- 
 ginning at one, two, and three miles, and gradually 
 increasing by five miles, about three times in the 
 week. The fancier sucks their beaks before throwing 
 them up, on the same principle that a racehorse has 
 the water-bottle applied to his lips just before he is 
 mounted. Several of the bad birds were picked off 
 on race days by gunners, who were anxious to read 
 the little billet on their leg ; but not three in a hun- 
 dred of the good birds, who always fly out of gun- 
 shot, and do not loiter to execute a number of 
 wheeling flights before they hit off their bearings of 
 their overland route. If the billet was tied, as is 
 popularly supposed, under the wing, the bird would 
 not fly far, but stop on some housetop to plume its 
 ruffled feathers. We have heard of them coming from 
 Epsom with an entry-list printed on tissue-paper tied 
 to each leg, so as to balance them. Some of the best, 
 on a fine clear day, have done the distance from 
 Goodwood to their metropolitan dovecote under the 
 hour, but their powers of flight depend almost en- 
 tirely on the state of the atmosphere, and their being 
 kept in high condition by constant changes of food. 
 This change is equally essential to man and beast ; 
 and the fact is so well known, that in one of the petty 
 continental states where it is forbidden to put felons 
 to death, they kill them by feeding them entirely on 
 veal and red wine. The best express carriers are 
 half-breds, between an Antwerp and a dragon, but the 
 latter must not be too heavy birds. A web-footed 
 bird of this breed, which was reared by a shoemaker 
 
1 76 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 in the Commercial-road, was always selected by 
 the manager of The Lifes dovecote to take the Good- 
 wood route on the Gratwicke Stakes and Cup days ; 
 but he was lost in his third season, and in all proba- 
 bility was killed by a hawk, many of whom haunt 
 the towers of Westminster Abbey for six months in 
 the year. 
 
 Old Joe Rayner, who was believed by many to 
 be the veritable "Dog," although a much younger 
 rival announced himself as such both at home and 
 abroad, was the patriarch of racing writers. " Gold- 
 finch" was the signature he generally assumed, and 
 the deeds of cracks past and present were his unvary- 
 ing theme. When the rapidly-increasing tumour in 
 his throat warned him, one October, that his race was 
 nearly run, he grasped his stick, and sallied forth to 
 bid his old sporting friends good-bye. We met him 
 in the Strand, and had a few minutes' chat about 
 Rifleman's defeat ; and then he added, at part- 
 ing, " / shall never see you again, I just give myself 
 eight days, and then it will be all over? By that 
 day week he had taken to his bed, and in two days 
 more he died, thus fulfilling his last prophecy to the 
 letter. His heart was always true to Yorkshire : "he 
 loved it," he always said, "for its racing tastes, its 
 glorious hams, and its hospitable hearts," and for its 
 old recollections of Tate Wilkinson, when that acute 
 Northern Elliston led its theatrical circuit, and descried 
 the earliest dawning of each new star on the York or 
 Doncaster boards. From the Drury Lane Fund he 
 drew ioo/. a year, which kept him above want, and 
 he retained his fondness of theatres to the very last. 
 The remembrance of his Tyke, Homespun, Fixture, 
 and four or five other characters, will always be green 
 spots in the memory of the lovers of footlights. He 
 looked the theatrical veteran to the last, and used at 
 times to troll one of his old songs at the winning 
 trainers' Doncaster parties. Joe was always fond of 
 
Cardsellers, Touts, and Aiigurs. 177 
 
 writing a little poetry, and he was propped up in 
 bed his very last afternoon to indite a Farewell to all 
 his sporting friends ; but the pen dropped from his 
 hand when he was half through the thirtieth line. 
 Among racers, Beeswing and Crucifix were his idols ; 
 and he must have written many yards of "copy" 
 about this brace alone. 
 
 Card-selling was not the flourishing trade twenty 
 years ago which it has since become, and was con- 
 fined to a few at each place. The railways have, as it 
 were, thrown open the trade, and from 800 to 600 live 
 by it almost entirely during eight or nine months of 
 the year. Of these about 400 confine themselves to 
 certain race circuits in the north, while the remaining 
 200 or 300 follow the races, week after week, with 
 quite as much regularity as the members of the ring. 
 In point of sex, the profession is about equally di- 
 vided ; several of them are married, and a most re- 
 markable " elopement in married life" once came off 
 in their circle at Hampton Races. Since the cele- 
 brated " Jerry" died,* they have owned no head 
 among the men ; but " Fair Helen," who once kept 
 an eating-house at Derby, was their Queen ; and 
 a handsome dame she was too, with her fine black 
 hair. Her predecessor was " Big Ann," who reigned 
 next in succession to " Sally Birch." Sally died at 
 Chester Races some years ago ; and her late subjects 
 were so loyal, that they not only subscribed three- 
 pences and sixpences to buy her a coffin and shroud, 
 but they stayed a day longer in the town, in order to 
 attend her funeral. In point of humour, nothing has 
 ever yet approached " Jerry ;" and he was equally at 
 home, whether dressed as a Broadway dandy with a 
 huge straw hat, or enacting the captain in a red coat, 
 a spy-glass, and a beaver " cock and pinch." On the 
 
 * Many of the others mentioned in this chapter have died or dis- 
 appeared from the Turf. 
 
 N 
 
1 78 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Derby Day, the people were too busy to heed him ; 
 but he was quite one of the institutions of the Ascot ; 
 and the inimitable way in which he chaffed the swells, 
 and then requested them to take his arm and let him 
 "show them a little life," never failed to extract 
 endless sixpences from the carriage line. His pro- 
 pensity to cling on to the side of carriages proved 
 fatal to him at last, as one was overturned on to him 
 at the Goodwood Meeting of '48, and his motley chums 
 followed him, with all the honours, to his last resting- 
 place at Chichester. 
 
 " Snuffling," or rather " Donkey Jemmy," is the 
 only one who attempts the Yorick line now. At the 
 Ascot meeting he, of course, wore his huge yel- 
 low wig ; and as we counted at least forty distinct 
 brays during the Cup afternoon, and as his tariff is 
 sixpence per bray, he did not do far amiss. Those 
 people who are not in carriages, he looks down upon 
 with supreme contempt. " I do the donkey to please 
 the aristocracy, not the common people," was his 
 withering remark in our presence, about a quarter 
 to three that afternoon, when two or three Berkshire 
 Lubins indulged in some elephantine pleasantries at 
 his expense. "Jerry" would have had tact to see 
 that this was rather a back-handed compliment ; but 
 " Donkey Jemmy" is far less acute. The other card- 
 sellers hold him in great contempt, as they consider 
 that by the adventitious aid of a large nose, which he 
 handles very artistically during the braying operation, 
 he contrives to steal a march upon his less-favoured 
 brethren, who are not so musical. 
 
 The red-coated division were once headed by 
 " Paddy," of the Queen's stag-hounds, the most 
 wonderful runner of his day, and preserved to all 
 time in Grant's celebrated picture ; but he has been 
 dead some years, and " Old Jack Straw," " Warwick 
 Dan," and " Billy Priest," are his principal successors. 
 The first comes from the Cheltenham country, the 
 
Cardsellers, Touts, and Augurs. 379 
 
 second from the Warwickshire, and the third from the 
 Pytcheley. However, the running-mantle of Paddy 
 has not been moth-eaten, as these three can run their 
 fifty miles in a day yet with hounds, and have made 
 something handsome by opening gates, taking lame 
 hounds home, and doing sundry other hunting-field 
 offices. " Billy Priest" has never worn shoes since his 
 childhood ; and if he were to come into a fortune to- 
 morrow, on condition that he would wear them, it is 
 most doubtful whether he would consent to do so. 
 There is such a strange fascination about the life, that 
 it is averred of " Dumbie" (whose power of panto- 
 mime and picking out winners is something quite 
 miraculous) that a good sum of money has been left 
 him, but that nothing can induce him to look after 
 it. "Jemmy from Town" died in London, and we 
 do not know that "Farem Kiddy," "Peter Rolt," 
 " Black Stock," and " Old Billy," have any peculiar 
 traits about them. The latter was card seller extra- 
 ordinary to Lords Exeter and Jersey, and has way- 
 laid them and served them regularly ever since they 
 were quite young turfites. " Jemmy and Mary Lei- 
 cester," and " Charles and Eliza Crow," are also 
 well-known characters ; but " Black Jemmy" rather 
 fell into the background when he had an accident to 
 his leg, and though he was soon happily convalescent, 
 he is no longer the ubiquitous merry African he was 
 in his green cutaway and tartan-tie days. Jemmy's 
 one consuming passion has long been his love for 
 Lord Eglinton's stud, the dispersion of which he took 
 sorely to heart. It is, in fact, out of a spirit of pure 
 devotion to Scotland and her Earl, that this sporting 
 exile has of late years enveloped himself in a grey 
 plaid. Whenever his lordship had a Derby favourite, 
 he professed to put his pot on him throughout the 
 entire winter, and gracefully preceded him to the 
 place of starting ; and what is more, if he was b.eaten, 
 Jemmy never forsook him. When his great hero, the 
 
 N 2 
 
1 80 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Flying Dutchman, advanced to the enclosure, as the 
 saddling bell rang for the Doncaster Cup, Jemmy 
 walked before him, clearing the way, and announcing 
 in the most oracular tones the impending downfall 
 ofVoltigeur; the odds being, as he remarked, "just 
 a horse to a hen." Again, when we stepped up to 
 the Dringhouse stables to see him brought out for his 
 match, there was Jemmy refreshing himself with beer 
 and pudding at the bar, and watching eagerly out 
 of a little window for the signal of departure for the 
 course. 
 
 " Sailor Jack* is another curiosity, with his alarm- 
 ing squint, and his utter disinclination to undergo the 
 slightest examination on nautical subjects. Jack was 
 sadly chaffed by his customers for not joining the 
 Baltic fleet in '55 ; but he bore it with wonderful com- 
 placency, and will doff his naval garb for no one. 
 He has very little humour about him generally, but 
 is one of the maddest wags in existence when he is 
 " half-seas-over," which, owing to the exhortations of 
 a teetotal friend, is said to be only of rare occur- 
 rence. " Lord Castlereagh" is also an oddity ; and 
 it is recorded of him that he had such a favourite 
 companion of his travels, in the shape of a little 
 French dog, that he has over and over again been 
 seen to cook beefsteaks for it, and dine off dry bread 
 himself. 
 
 The profits of this strange crew are very various, 
 and the prices of cards equally so ; but on this head 
 it is hardly fair to them to say more, except that 
 Ascot is their great carnival, and Jerry has been 
 known to make as much as 2O/. clear on a Cup day. 
 The number of cards bought by the " crowded pro- 
 fession," at Doncaster, is very various. Some con- 
 trive to dispose of two dozen, while others can get 
 through fifteen dozen. This latter number is the 
 maximum on a "great day," and six dozen the 
 average. It is a saying amongst them, that "it's all 
 
Cardsellers, Touts, and Augurs. 181 
 
 copper in the North and silver in the South," which 
 is, being interpreted, the Northern card publishers 
 will let them buy one or two cards, as the case may 
 be ; whereas in the South they must either buy half 
 a dozen or a dozen if they want to be served. 
 Several of them have regular customers, whom they 
 supply either at their lodgings or in the street. Of 
 such cards they profess to keep no account, but trust 
 to their patrons' liberality when the meeting is over. 
 The telegraph has quite knocked up both the entry 
 and return-list trade, and not one-twentieth part of 
 the number are sold now. In fact, there is a very 
 slow sale for the latter, except for a few minutes at 
 the close of the afternoon's sport. About 25,000 
 cards are sold during the Doncaster race week, 15,000 
 of which are disposed of on the St. Leger day ; 
 whereas on the Derby day 20,000 is the "sum 
 tottel." At Manchester the sale is enormous, and 
 said to average 15,000 a day; and at York about 
 10,000 are sold on the Handicap day, and 8000 on 
 each of the other days. Very few cards are disposed 
 of at Newcastle, as Benson's " Flying Sheet," which 
 has the colours annexed, beats everything out of the 
 field. 
 
 Fair Helen, and three or four other women, are far 
 the most successful at present ; but the profits of each 
 during a fine Ascot meeting seldom on the average 
 exceed 2O/., or fall below 3/. Even the cool-headed 
 Lord George Bentinck is known to have flung down a 
 sovereign for a card ; and by such little coup de mains 
 as laying in wait for the winner of a great race, 
 either on the course or at Tattersall's, and popping 
 in a well-timed allusion to his triumph, many a 
 half sovereign has been extracted, especially by " the 
 fayre ladyes" of the fraternity. There is a good deal 
 of kind feeling, to boot, among them ; and if one of 
 them gets into trouble, and arrives at a race-town 
 without any capital, they will club together and lend 
 
1 82 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 him some ; but woe betide the unhappy wight who 
 dares to repudiate such a debt ! Now that railroads 
 are established, their path from town to town has been 
 very much smoothed, and many of the " leaders of the 
 circuit" travel thousands of miles during the year on 
 the rails alone. When they walk, they generally do 
 so in gangs of twenty each, the women sometimes 
 clubbing together to hire a cart ; but the gentler sex 
 seem to step along quite as briskly as their compa- 
 nions, who have no reason to indorse the sentiment 
 which a sour rustic once made to us, viz., " That he 
 would sooner take four umbrellas, and be bound to carry 
 them all, than walk one female to the races'' They 
 usually walk about eight miles before breakfast, and 
 then adjourn to some publichouse, and refresh them- 
 selves with bread and cheese ; and in this fashion they 
 jog on comfortably about five-and-twenty miles per 
 day. Luggage is not a thing they much affect ; and, 
 in fact, two shirts and a " shimmy" is about the regu- 
 lation package for a man and his wife, though Fair 
 Helen and Co.'s wardrobe, is no doubt, far more ex- 
 tensive. They affect butter more than meat, and it is 
 a singular fact that there is no sacrifice which poor 
 people would not undergo rather than give up butter. 
 Beefsteaks is their next " vanity ;" but the majority 
 live pretty carefully, and lay by something in store 
 for the winter months. Such of the men as follow the 
 hounds are of course never out of work, except during 
 a frost ; but the remainder are pretty hard set, and as 
 steeple-chases are fast passing away, they are forced 
 to frequent fairs, vend pencils, pincushions, and all 
 such gimcracks. For races themselves they care very 
 little ; and one of them told us that he never left off 
 his business to look at any race, except it was the 
 Derby, St. Leger, or Ascot Cup. 
 
 They look sadly down, in accordance with the old 
 orange-woman versus apple-woman principle, on the 
 other "professors" who attend the racecourse. The 
 
Cardsellers, Touts, and Augurs. 183 
 
 owners of the " Hydrocephalic Child," the " Fair Cir- 
 cassian with the Golden Locks," or " The Living 
 Princess," who, " When she wur born she weighed a 
 pouttd and a 'alf, now she weighs four pounds" are as 
 nothing in their eyes; and with the small gimcrack 
 vendors and singers, who are ready to do " annything 
 to yarn a crust," they will hold no communion. 
 Among the latter crew may be noted the fat acrobat, 
 who has passed the best years of his life in lifting 
 a needle from the ground with his eyelid, and the 
 old man in shabby fatigue uniform, who goes about 
 with a huge Crimean beard, and assuring every 
 " Bono Francaize" he met, that if " their brave chaps 
 only got a chance, they'd go in at them Russians like a 
 dog at his dinner'' The singers south of the Trent 
 never seem to us to have half the breadth and spirit 
 of the Northern minstrels, and merely work away at 
 ditties to the effect that " of all the girls that I do love, 
 I love myself the best," instead of boldly chanting 
 the deeds of great winners. Three-inch wax babies 
 have also come in on the wreck of the " new guinea" 
 trade, and "Large families of babbies for one shilling, 
 three on 'em for sixpence who'll have a babby for tup- 
 pence ?" is the stereotyped appeal from the vendors to 
 all ages and sexes. The " Wright" of the race-course, 
 after all, is a thin man of about fifty, who spends his 
 summer in woman's attire, with ribbons in his hair, 
 a faded yellow fan in one hand, and a green and pink 
 parasol in the other. If his face was a little stouter, 
 he would strikingly resemble that great low come- 
 dian ; and his opening dialogue about " Well, Lady 
 John, and how are the flowers to-day ? Fve seen the 
 gardener',' &c., followed up by the song of the 
 " Old Arm Cheer',' with each stanza illustrated by a 
 mock fandango, and a peculiar screw in his walk as 
 he retires, is one of the most humorous scenas we, 
 know. 
 
1 84 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 BLOOD SIRES. 
 
 " The Knight a dappled grey bestrode, 
 Whose haughty crest and eye of fire 
 Told of his tameless Eastern sire." 
 
 THE young clovers were never so good as they 
 are this year," was the juicy lure which once 
 caught our eye, in a Sheet Calendar advertisement, 
 towards the close of an especially frigid January. It 
 smacked so strongly of the quaint stud-literature of 
 the olden time, when Eclipse was in his glory at the 
 Clayhill Farm, near Epsom, and less ambitious co- 
 temporaries had visitors carefully consigned to them, 
 from the "The Pyed Horse, near Chairing Cross," 
 that we could not refrain from taking a copious sur- 
 vey of those musty paddock records. How strangely 
 their laboured verbosity and facetiousness contrasted 
 with the modest and meagre recitals of the present 
 day " The Hero, at Danebury, ten sovs.," to wit ! 
 To judge from their tenor, our forefathers must have 
 thought differently to ourselves on some horse points, 
 or else it would hardly be urged in a sire's favour that 
 he " was a compleat strong horse, and well whited," 
 or that he was " remarkably upright in the pasterns." 
 The blendings of praise and apology are also wonder- 
 fully unique. Each owner seemed to feel that, if 
 there was a blot in his favourite's fame, then or never 
 was the time to explain it away. Petruchio's last 
 defeat, for instance, is softened down by a suggestion 
 
Blood Sires. 185 
 
 that, "when harassed with private work, he indis- 
 creetly gave away his year, started with twelve stone, 
 and fell lame ;" while the owner of " Snap (late Mr. 
 Latham's)/' disclaiming all notion of a lengthy eulogy, 
 snaps at Mr. L. on this wise : " But let it suffice to 
 say that he has the best constitution of any known 
 sire ; and if he had been in the hands of any man of 
 spirit, it is not doubted but that he would have made 
 the capital horses of his time submit to his invariable 
 powers, over The Beacon, or any other course." An 
 Irish breeder would not have long doubted as to its 
 being his duty to burn powder on such a provocation. 
 The great thing in Young Snap's favour seems to be, 
 that " he is a decided master of twenty stone" a 
 quality which must have endeared him to the eques- 
 trian Daniel Lamberts who rode a race over Knaves- 
 mire, about that period, at thirty stone each ! Again, 
 we are called upon by others to note that " judges 
 consider" their favourite's "substance to lye proper, 
 so as not to hinder action," or that " he is as perfect a 
 horse to get racing cattle as ever came into England." 
 One retires early from the turf ; but the breeder is 
 advised to take comfort, as his inability to stand a 
 long training arose from "his off-hip being struck 
 down before his birth ;" while " a sagacious and 
 powerful colt" did not prosper in the trainer's hands 
 simply because " he was left to the care of a lad of 
 feather, and spoiled by getting the ascendant." Then 
 there is Sturdy, whom George III., of blessed pigtail 
 memory, rode while he was at the stud a " most pro- 
 per horse," as his owner observes. Age is evidently 
 of no account, as we read of one of " twenty-three 
 years old, in full-toned virility, possessed of instinct in 
 a superior degree, and, withal, a genuine spirit !" Tan- 
 trum's owner soars still higher into the regions of 
 fancy. He supposes the owner of a mare, who has 
 just seen the Tantrum, studiously "gazing at a picture 
 of Flying Childers (who brought his haunches so well 
 
1 86 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 under him)," and then exclaiming, with perfect pro- 
 priety, ' Why, that's the very picture of Tantrum gal- 
 loping?" 
 
 The fancy of the composers ran still greater lengths 
 when an Arab was to be puffed, every one of which 
 seems to have " a most sublime Hodget or certificate, 
 and most perfect nimble action," to say nothing of 
 being " of the best and most beloved breed in the 
 royal stables of the East." Whatever the extra price 
 of advertising, the certificates headed with " Praise 
 be unto God ! There is but one God, and Mahomet 
 is his prophet!" and ending with " Sixth day of moon 
 Ramdam, year of our Prophet 1127," were always 
 given at full. Not satisfied with this, we read in the 
 testimonials of one of these certificated pleaders for 
 public favour, a long fairy tale as to how a beau- 
 tiful horse rose one morning from the sea, and met 
 the loveliest mare in Araby ; and how the horse in 
 question is in a direct line from these loveliest of 
 mythical lovers. Of course, everything goes indis- 
 putably to prove their descendant a pure Cochlean. 
 The tufts of long white hair on the shin of each fore- 
 leg, the double feather on the off-side of the crest, 
 the curl of the lips when he is in movement, and 
 even divers wounds, are all there to confute the 
 sceptic. Beny Suckr, some great mufti or other, was 
 so fond and careful of the horse he imported, that he 
 " sent thirty men to guard him in his ten days' jour- 
 ney across the desert;" and another, "fifteen two 
 without his shoes," has such wondrous muscle that, 
 when the Russian General, Count Orloff, "who, 
 though perfectly well made, rides 23 stone," gave him 
 a strong gallop, he " blew no more than if he had 
 carried a feather." A certain Mr. Gregory scorns a 
 certificate, but offers, as a voucher for the pure caste 
 of^his brace of Arabs, that " they were bred by the 
 King of Sinnan, in the Mountain of Moses, in the 
 province of Yannam, in Arabia Felix." The prestige 
 
Blood Sires. 187 
 
 of these children of the desert was even then (1771) 
 on the wane ; but we have it from General Clarke, the 
 oldest surviving Indian officer, that, some few years 
 before the close of the century, the native dealers 
 brought a coarse-shouldered bay Arab to the Madras 
 bazaar, and sturdily set their price at io,ooo/. Only 
 one nabob-elect was found bold enough to bid a 
 tenth of that sum ; and back went the dusky owners, 
 in a state of great dudgeon, to the hill-country, won- 
 dering what could have come to the whites. At the 
 Stuttgardt fair of '55, the highest prices were for a 
 white ten-year-old stallion, about 240/., and for a 
 four-year-old mare, IQO/. The late Mr. Attwood 
 retained his love of the " delicate Arab arch " in his 
 racers' necks longer than any man on the English turf; 
 but their inability to stand " squeezing," in a strong 
 finish, cost him many a pound and many a pang. 
 Mr. Attwood's Glints mare is credited year after 
 year in the stud-book with foals to a grey, bay, 
 or chestnut Barb, and shortly after the Crimean war 
 we were invited by advertisement to see a " true 
 Seglavee Djederanee ; " and, reading on, we found 
 him to be " a horse of such surpassing swiftness, 
 that Omar Pacha specially selected him to carry 
 the news of the raising of the siege of Silistria to 
 Varna ! " Hugh Capet sent several German run- 
 ning horses to Athelstane early in the ninth century ; 
 the Spanish horse came in with William the Con- 
 queror, and the first Arabian on record was introduced 
 to the English isles by Alexander, King of Scotland, 
 who presented it and its furniture to the Church ! 
 A writer on this subject in The Field informs us 
 that 
 
 " The Arabs, as well as the Turks and Persians, look upon those 
 portions of a horse's coat, which seem to grow in a contrary direction 
 here and there, as a certain means of determining its value. Any un- 
 lucky sign will immediately take away from the horse two-thirds of its 
 worth, and sometimes more. Nearly all the Nedjdi Arab horses intro- 
 duced into Europe are those considered imperfect by their owners. It 
 
1 88 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 is said that 4OOO/. was offered by an aide-de-camp of the Emperor of 
 Russia for the celebrated ' White Hamdani,' and refused. This horse, 
 now in the breeding yard of St. Cloud, near Paris, had, according to 
 the words of Mohammed Agha and the attendants, who brought him 
 over," three or four unlucky signs, on which account he had been re- 
 jected from the stables of the Pacha of Egypt. These marks, which we 
 should consider merely as a simple freak of nature, would inspire a 
 Mussulman either with a superstitious prejudice against the horse, or an 
 incredible longing to mount him ; each mark bearing a particular signi- 
 fication according to the place it occupies, and the size and softness of 
 the hair." 
 
 An Arab horse has, in fact, forty recognised marks, 
 twenty-eight of which are negative, and the other 
 twelve have an influence for happiness or misery on 
 the owner. The mark between the ears shows swift- 
 ness, that on the girths increases the flocks, while 
 that on the breast fills the tent with plunder ; and it 
 is especially unlucky for the hair to curl on the legs. 
 The rival tribes are as jealous among themselves of 
 the pure caste of their horses as the great short-horn 
 breeders were wont to be, in the days when a baronet 
 rather despised the herds of an earl, from a belief that 
 their muzzles had a slight dark tinge, which bespoke 
 a distant relationship to the Scotch ox or the Chilling- 
 ham rangers. 
 
 Judging from his portraits, we should be disposed 
 to side with those who considered that Lord Godol- 
 phin's celebrated horse was more of a Barb than an 
 Arab. Hence, if this point is conceded at Gogmagog, 
 we have the Godolphin Barb, the Byerley Turk, and 
 the Darley Arabian, standing boldly out from the 
 croud of Hemsley Turks, Sedley Arabians, Curwen 
 Barbs, &c. (the importation of which was supposed to 
 lay counties under a deathless obligation to their 
 great families), as the three honoured founders the 
 Shem, Ham, and Japhet, as they have been styled 
 of English blood stock. It was not until seventy years 
 after the Byerley Turk had borne his owner at the 
 Battle of the Boyne that his memory was made fa- 
 mous by King Herod. This sire of Highflyer was 
 
Blood Sires. 189 
 
 foaled, like Eclipse and Marske, in the paddocks of 
 the Duke of Cumberland, who used to throw mains 
 with Lord Sandwich when the hounds checked, " on 
 every green hill and under every green tree," and 
 whose name was as great in connexion with blood 
 stock as that of the Duke of Montague, in Charles 
 II.'s reign. Woodpecker and Highflyer represent the 
 two great branches of King Herod's line ; and the 
 descendants of the former have been as renowned for 
 their speed as those of the latter for their staying 
 qualities. That wonderful trio of brothers by Buzzard 
 (a fair sized chestnut with one eye), out of an Alexan- 
 der mare, to wit, Selim, Reubens, and Castrel, were 
 but two degrees from Woodpecker ; and while Castrel 
 was represented by his son Pantaloon, and by Hobbie 
 Noble, Selim may be traced through Langar to 
 Pyrrhus the First, and through Sultan to Beiram and 
 Bay Middleton. Prunella, on the other hand, was the 
 queen of the Highflyer mares, and Sir Peter Teazle 
 or Sir Peter as he was popularly styled the most dis- 
 tinguished of his male descendants ; and through his 
 grandson Partisan, who was by Walton, out of Para- 
 sol, a daughter of Prunella, we have had Venison 
 and Gladiator. The Partisan blood has thus a strong 
 double stain of Highflyer in it : and although the 
 effects of this rather close breeding brought no soft- 
 ness into the Venisons, it may have had its effect on 
 the Sweetmeats ; and the failure of the Actseon stock 
 may also be accounted for by the fact that both his 
 dam and grandam were by Highflyer. Agonistes, 
 Haphazard, Sir Solomon, and Sir Paul were all very 
 noted " four-mile " sons of Sir Peter, and Sir Paul 
 transmitted his stoutness, through Paulowitz and Cain, 
 to the stock of Ion, who was never a great favourite 
 in England, and was consigned to the foreigners before 
 Wild Dayrell was added to his Poodle and Pelion list 
 of winners. 
 The Godolphin Barb blood courses through Cade 
 
1 90 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 and Matchem, down to Trumpator, " the head of the 
 negroes," as some were wont to term him, and his 
 sons Paynator and Sorcerer. From Paynator (who 
 was only small, like his sire), sprang the sire of Bees- 
 wing, the evergreen Dr. Syntax, whose muscular 
 frame still lives, along with Phantom, in Ward's won- 
 drous horse-studies. He was the result of a cross 
 with a Beningboro' mare, and the staying propensities 
 of the family were studiously preserved through the 
 Lottery, or rather the Tramp strain in The Doctor, 
 whose tight little son Black Doctor so completely re- 
 vived the fortunes of Ashgill. Tomboy strains back 
 to Sorcerer (a great fine black horse, who would run 
 any length), through Jerry and Smolensko ; and Mel- 
 bourne claims the same relationship, through the high- 
 blowing Humphrey Clinker and Comus. 
 
 Eclipse originally passed as a yearling into the 
 hands of little Wildman for 75 guineas, Captain 
 O'Kelly buying half of him when he was a four-year- 
 old for 250 guineas, and the remainder soon after for 
 750 guineas. The only record we can find of his 
 latter days, when his fifty-guinea fee was considerably 
 reduced, is in a mock epistle, where he says, " Old age 
 has come upon me, and wonder not, King Fergus, 
 when I tell thee I was drawn in a carriage from 
 Epsom to Cannon's, being unable to walk 'even so 
 short a journey. I am glad to hear my grandson, 
 Honest Tom, performs so well in Ireland. P.S. 
 Myself, Dungannon, Volunteer, and Vertumnus are 
 here. Compliments to the Yorkshire horses." His 
 four sons 'Mercury, Joe Andrews, King Fergus, and 
 Pot-8-os transmit the Darley Arabian blood to us in 
 its purest form. Gohanna and Catton form two of the 
 links in the stout " catenary chain" between Slane and 
 Mercury ; Tramp stands halfway between Lanercost 
 and Joe Andrews ; and King Fergus may be traced, 
 through Beningboro', Orvile, and Emilius, to Priam, 
 on the one side, and through Hambletonian, White- 
 
Blood Sir e. 191 
 
 lock, and Blacklock, to Voltaire, on the other. Of all 
 his sons, however, Eclipse has most reason (as Dr. 
 Bullock Marsham would say) "to rejoice in Pot-%-os" 
 as from his union with a King Herod mare came 
 Waxy, the modern ace of trumps of the stud-book ; 
 whilst Whalebone and Whisker were the Waxy foals 
 of Penelope, a daughter of Prunella. Whalebone was, 
 in his turn, by a strictly-orthodox cross with the 
 Selim, Reubens, and Wanderer blood, the sire of 
 Camel, Defence, and Sir Hercules, and the grandsire 
 of Touchstone and Irish Birdcatcher ; while Whisker 
 must, in consequence of The Colonel's failure, and 
 Cobham's refusal to run to his splendid trials, in 
 public, rest his claims to renown so far on the stock of 
 Emma ; or fall back in future years on his great 
 grandson Rifleman. As Parasol, another of the Pru- 
 nellas, was the dam of Partisan, there is much truth in 
 the saying, that there is hardly a blood-thing in Eng- 
 land without a stain of old Prunella in its veins. She 
 was a bay mare, belonging to the Duke of Grafton, 
 was not placed for the Oaks in 1791, and, in fact, only 
 #on three races out of eleven. In 1795 she was put 
 to the stud, threw a Derby winner to Waxy (who was 
 never happy without a rabbit in his paddock) in 1806, 
 and died in 1811. Waxy laid the foundation of 
 Robson's training fame, when he beat Gohanna, the 
 pride of Petworth, in the Derby of 1793, on which 
 memorable day three sons of Pot-8-os finished in the 
 first four ; and the same numerical luck attended the 
 first three-year-old batch of the Lanercosts over the 
 same ground. He was a very handsome rich bay, 
 with a white stocking on his off hind leg, good length, 
 and especially beautiful quarters, which he transmitted 
 in the highest perfection to his son Whisker, who was 
 perhaps the finer looking animal of the two. Whale- 
 bone was much smaller, and not so good-looking as 
 either of them ; barely fifteen two, and bordering, in 
 colour, on a brown ; and Woful was thought by many 
 
1 92 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 to be a still handsomer horse than Whisker, but his 
 legs failed wofully in his preparations. 
 
 Bay Middleton, Touchstone, and Melbourne, one 
 from each of the great branches of the genealogical 
 stud tree, are in the first class of turf patriarchs, 
 although they are gradually giving way before younger 
 rivals.* Venison ranked amongst them ; but his last 
 lot of foals ran in '55 ; Kingston, the handsomest 
 of his sons, was out of a Slane mare. Irish Bird- 
 catcher's stock are somewhat short and very speedy, 
 and the stouter and less curby blood of The Baron, 
 which got a double stain of Waxy through his 
 Economist dam, has brought out this chestnut 
 family in still greater force, by its cross with Poca- 
 hontas by Glencoe, which made both Tramp and 
 Muley kinsmen to Stockwell and Rataplan. To 
 these two, seeing that the handsome Chief Baron 
 Nicholson has departed, the honour of this blood 
 will have to be confided ; as even 3000 guineas, or 
 nearly twice the sum paid for him, has failed to 
 tempt our allies to send us The Baron back. Still 
 we are informed by a gentleman, who visited him at 
 the Bois du Haras, that he was as rough and as un- 
 cared for as a bear, and that seeing how dirty and 
 below par the whole establishment was, it was no 
 wonder the young stock turned out ill. With the ex- 
 ception of Safeguard, who is out of a Selim mare, we 
 believe that there is hardly a Defence horse left in 
 England ; and we have no worthy inheritor of the 
 stag-like neck, long back ribs, and broad back, which 
 Mr. Thornhill used to point out with such pride when- 
 ever he introduced his Riddlesworth visitors to 
 Emilius. If Mr. Houldsworth, of whom it used to be 
 said " that he could never lose over horses what he 
 had made by mules!' were living, he would find his 
 magnificent Filho da Puta in the same plight ; and 
 
 * Their grandsons are now at the stud. 
 
Blood Sires. 193 
 
 Muley Moloch, the best living representative of the 
 hero of the once-famed Underley stud, has been 
 changing hands for io/. and I5/. ! and resigning his 
 honours to his good-looking son Galaor. 
 
 The honour of rearing a popular successor to Bay 
 Middleton has so far been left to Barbelle ; although 
 Andover is to our minds the best stamp of horse to 
 look at, that has ever owned him as a sire. This dam 
 of the Flying Dutchman is not nearly so powerful a 
 looking mare as Crucifix, but short-legged and lengthy, 
 and certainly not fifteen-two. She is very neat, and 
 with that springy wire-hung action, which so far 
 especially distinguishes the scions of the great " Raw- 
 cliffe Horse." This lack of size in Barbelle is rather 
 telling on her descendants, and the young Dutchmen, 
 like the Heroes, Chanticleers, and Vaticans, as a 
 general rule, are as small as the Pyrrhuses, Cowls, and 
 Flatcatchers are big. Sweetmeat, whose stock are 
 somewhat shoulder-tied, but yet speedy for a mile, is 
 no mean substitute for Gladiator, nor Cossack for 
 Hetman Platoff. Whatever might also be the general 
 opinion on the staying qualities of the Hetmans, 
 Cossack's dam, Joaninna by Priam, was emphatically 
 " a sticker ;" and though she had only one pace, she 
 could, when she had something to force the running, 
 catch the majority of horses at the Duke's stand if 
 they met her for a "Ditch In" plate. Though 
 Crucifix has failed him on the whole, and thrown 
 very infirm stock, the union of Priam's blood with 
 Lottery's, in the case of Weatherbit, has had a success 
 which bids fair to be lasting. Vulture died from a 
 kick at the Hampton Court Paddocks soon after 
 Orlando, who was only her second foal, was weaned. 
 However, she had even at that early date done enough 
 for her name, as her speed has been transmitted in the 
 highest degree to his stock, which are generally pre- 
 ferred to his sire's. He is very little above fifteen- 
 two, and rather cloudy-eyed ; but he is one of those 
 
 O 
 
1 94 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 finely-knit and strong-quartered horses, who look as 
 if they would answer to a pull and " come again" 
 under any amount of distress, as only an English horse 
 can ; and Scythian (whom we last heard of travelling 
 1600 miles by a cranky railway and in a negro's 
 charge, to join Glencoe in Kentucky), Fazzoletto, and 
 Teddington have not belied his promise. His year- 
 ling stock uniformly fetch the highest prices of the 
 day, and stamp him as the most popular racehorse- 
 sire we have. As a general thing they are a little 
 gaudy ; and one of the '56 Hampton Court yearlings, 
 with a white face and four long white stockings, is the 
 breathing fac-simile of Vulture. Nat does not perhaps 
 think him so good as Glencoe, but he was the horse 
 of all others he loved most to ride. He used to say 
 of him that he never knew him change legs either in a 
 race or at exercise, and that his stroke, as he watched 
 it from his back, had all the wondrous precision of an 
 engine piston ; and he now adds that next to him he 
 liked to feel himself on Rifleman. For look, there is 
 no untried son of Touchstone we prefer to the lengthy, 
 short-legged Newminster, who has the honour of old 
 Beeswing in his stud-keeping, and is not likely to 
 disgrace her. 
 
 A successful blood sire has been as good as a long 
 annuity to many an owner, and earned its special will- 
 clause like " The Black Mare" in re Pettingall, whose - 
 5O/. per annum " Account" was so carefully considered 
 by Sir Knight Bruce in reference to the possible rise 
 in hay and corn during her life. Matchem, whose 
 galloping likeness, with his two hind legs on the 
 ground and his two front in the air, still creaks on 
 many a village signboard in the north, produced no 
 less than I7,ooo/. to his owner. Eclipse realized 
 nearly that sum ; and Highflyer, whose stock were 
 of every colour down to piebalds, an almost fabulous 
 amount during a much shorter career. Orvile's fee 
 was as low as ten guineas, but he was still worth 
 
Blood Sires. 195 
 
 1000 guineas a-year to Mr. Kirby during the four 
 seasons he had him ; and although in the course of 
 eighty-seven years he never treated himself to such 
 an honour, that Father of the Yorkshire Turf laid out 
 nearly 3OO/. in having his favourite's picture taken 
 and engraved. His Lanercost might, like Orvile, be 
 said to have " received all Yorkshire" at his paddocks ; 
 and it was perhaps owing to this cause that he could 
 not hold the place he won in 1847, with Van Tromp, 
 War Eagle, and Ellerdale. In the spring of the pre- 
 ceding year Mr. Kirby had been sadly teazed by the 
 foreigners and their English agents to part with him 
 for 3000 guineas, the sum at which he had bought 
 him at Newcastle, " stripped of everything but his 
 shoes not even the halter in ;" but he stoutly re- 
 fused to let him go under 4000 guineas, and cleared 
 1600 by him in 1847 alone. Six or seven years after, 
 he was sold, when barely eighteen, with Hernandez 
 and a couple of mares and a foal, as make-weights, 
 for I5OO/. the lot! The earnings of Melbourne, after 
 Canezou made him the rage, were also something 
 very enormous. We have only heard of one stud 
 horse being under suspicion of late years, as a coun- 
 terfeit ; and we believe that his owner had a hint 
 given him, which answered its purpose. The trainer 
 of the real Simon Pure, who was averred to have 
 been thrown overboard in a storm in the German 
 Ocean, looked him over, and said that the resemblance 
 was very remarkable, but that one mark was about 
 two inches too low. 
 
 When we find a little horse like Abd-el-Kader, 
 whose dam worked in a fast Shrewsbury coach, and a 
 cast-off of Lord Exeter's, doing the four miles and 
 a quarter of the Liverpool Steeple Chase under ten 
 stone in very little over ten minutes, we have no great 
 reason to join in the elegies over the decay of our 
 horses' stamina. Horologists assert that the five- 
 year-old Sir Solomon and Cockfighter ran four miles 
 
 O 2 
 
196 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 at Doncaster under 8st. 7lbs. in 7 min. 1 1 sees., and 
 the most desperately run race of modern times was 
 the Emperor's Cup in 1853, when Teddington, 5 yrs., 
 Qst., and Stockwell, 4 yrs., 8st. 5lbs., covered the 2\ 
 miles of a course where "^/to-racing" is a mere 
 euphemism, in 4 min. 33 sees. West Australian and 
 Kingston are said to have done the distance in 6 sees, 
 less, but the pace for the last three-quarters of a mile 
 was not so severe. Velocipede, whom John Scott 
 considered to be the best horse he ever trained, and 
 Osprey, who beat everything of Lord Foley's, when 
 he was out of training, for half a mile were immensely 
 fast, as were all the stock of Buzzard and his de- 
 scendants. Vulture had perhaps the highest speed of 
 any animal that ever trod the turf, but we do not 
 know that her half-mile burst was ever timed. Semi- 
 seria and Queen of the Gipsies are said to have done 
 a half-mile match at Newmarket in 37 sees., while 
 
 1 min. 46 sees, is a good general average for a mile, 
 
 2 mins. 46 sees, for i^ miles, and 3 mins. 46 sees, for 
 two. The slowest race we ever saw was the Ebor 
 St. Leger of 1850, in which, owing to all three jockeys 
 being afraid to begin, the first three-quarters of a mile 
 was walked, and the two miles happily completed, 
 after a slashing head and head race, in 14 mins. 
 17 sees. ! The Newcastle Cup (1855), when Dalkeith 
 and King of Trumps fairly reeled past the post 
 like drunken men, is also one " leading case" of dis- 
 tress ; as Wanota's, in the Ascot Stakes, when Job 
 Marson was three times compelled to indulge him 
 with the lead, and then come and win at the fourth 
 run, is of hard pulling. 
 
 With the exception of the Royal Whip and two 
 Queen's Plates at the Curragh, the Queen's Plate at 
 the Caledonian Hunt, and "The Whip" at New- 
 market, there are no four-mile races left ; and the 
 massacre of cracks which has immemorially been 
 enacted in the last-named race, is enough to drive 
 
Blood Sires. 197 
 
 " the Beacon" out of fashion. West Australian was 
 spared that public auto dafe, while Wild Dayrell met 
 his fate " in another place," a martyr to his owner's 
 too rigorous feeling of honour. Wild Dayrell was 
 not quite so large as he looked, and only measured 
 sixteen one and a-quarter. A more magnificent topped 
 horse was never seen ; but, like Ephesus, he was an 
 inch too long in the leg for beauty, and rather light 
 below the knee, and tapered so decidedly from his 
 arm to the ground, besides turning his toes out, that 
 his owner may thank the splendid mossy texture of 
 the Weathercock Hill in Ashdown Park, that he kept 
 on his legs so long. He inherited his size from his 
 dam, Ellen Middleton, who was perhaps, with the 
 exception of being a trifle straight in the hocks, as 
 fine a brood mare as we ever saw. She was at Sweet- 
 meat's paddocks when we saw her in 1855, and one 
 of a long platoon of mares standing under a hedge 
 with their backs to the bitter east wind, among whom 
 were the dams of Mincepie and Sugarplum ; while one 
 of the first of the Mountain Deer foals, with hair as 
 long and rough as a billy-goat, stood defying the 
 breezes hard by. West Australian's form changed so 
 completely between the Derby and the St. Leger, 
 that his stable felt sure he must be lolbs. better or 
 lolbs. worse ; and we could hardly recognise in the 
 smart well-moulded horse of the autumn, the sleepy- 
 looking colt whom poor " Frank" mounted with any- 
 thing but groimd-lzss apprehensions on the Derby 
 day. This infirmity prevented the world from ever 
 half-knowing what " my hack" could do at four years 
 old, although as a stayer John Scott ranked him 
 below Touchstone. Hence Teddington must, to our 
 minds, claim the palm for the best modern union of 
 speed, bottom, and weight-carrying power. His make 
 was a brilliant exception to conventional racing rules, 
 as he was a small short horse, in fact quite of the 
 Suffolk Punch order, in his two-vear-old season low 
 
198 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 in the withers, straight in the shoulders, short, and 
 upright in the pasterns, small-footed, calf-kneed, and 
 only sixty-three inches in the girth when he won the 
 Derby. With all these so-called racing defects, he 
 looked a racehorse every inch of him. His head and 
 neck were especially game and blood-like ; but the 
 great secret of his rare racing power lay in his high 
 muscular loins, which sent him along the flat and up 
 the hill like a hare. It was glorious to see Wells let 
 Virago go at the Stand for the Great Metropolitan, 
 but it was nothing to the style in which the little 
 chestnut answered to the whip when "Job," with 
 whip and heel, called on him to collar Kingston, who 
 was then in his prime, for the Doncaster Cup, or the 
 almost electric burst of speed with which he darted 
 on to Stockwell, and then swerving from desperate 
 distress while giving Qlbs. to a horse half as powerful 
 again up the Ascot Hill, came a second time, and 
 beat him a head on the post. Somehow or other, 
 when we see a horse strike well out with the off hind 
 leg, we always fancy that he means going, and this 
 peculiarity was an especial characteristic of Tedding 
 ton and Rifleman. 
 
 It is a common excuse for horses of no great run- 
 ning powers, that they have failed in the stud simply 
 for the lack of having picked mares put to them. 
 Merit will, however, be generally served in this, as 
 in everything else ; and glancing over a twenty years' 
 list of great winners, we do not recognise more than 
 thirty of them as high-class stud names. Perhaps 
 the most distinguished cluster of future stud cracks 
 came to the fore in the Derby of 1836, when Gla- 
 diator, Venison, and Slane finished behind Bay 
 Middleton; and in the St. Leger of 1829, when 
 Voltaire, with Sir Hercules at his quarters, all but 
 reached Rowton on the post. The finish for the 
 latter race in 1849, between The Dutchman, Nunny- 
 kirk, and Vatican, also showed us three elegant but 
 
Blood Sir e^. 199 
 
 very different types of "terribly high-bred cattle." 
 In point of what breeders emphatically call "quality," 
 horses differ immensely. Orlando had a great deal 
 of it, and so have many of his stock, as well as some 
 of the Venisons. In Sultan, whose head might have 
 beseemed a Belvidere Apollo among horses, it was 
 seen to very great perfection ; and, noble savage as 
 he was, Phlegon, out of Lucetta, showed perhaps as 
 much or more of it than any animal of the day. His 
 eye, and his whole attitude, as he arched his beautiful 
 neck, and half fixed his eye on his box visitors on 
 the Burleigh sale day, as if by a species of wild fasci- 
 nation trying to woo them within his hoof range, was 
 a study of animal nature such as we shall never forget. 
 It was his temper which marred his racing career, 
 and he would (like Slane) stop suddenly in his exer- 
 cise gallops, and then think better of it, and go on 
 and catch his horses again like the wind. The court- 
 yard at Burleigh, that lovely August afternoon, was a 
 perfect carnival of blood sires of every type and hue. 
 Midas, the blood pony of the day, was kept in strict 
 limbo by wooden reins, and sent forth an indignant 
 chorus of whinnies as his less favoured companions 
 were led past him to the hammer. Stockwell came 
 ambling out in his peculiar style, with his Roman 
 head and massive muscular points wonderfully fined 
 down since he all but broke Teddington's heart. 
 Phlegon glared on the assembly like a tiger, and was 
 led snorting away when no one would go beyond 
 190 guineas; and Nutwith, with his almost matchless 
 back and quarters, presenting a perfect line of beauty 
 as you stood rather behind him, and did not care 
 to query whether his shoulder was not slightly loaded, 
 also returned to the place from whence he came for 
 1600 guineas. Then the lengthy Woodpigeon arrived, 
 whose gentleness well beseemed his name, and was 
 quite atoned for by the luckless Ambrose, who over 
 and over again beat Stockwell in private, and yet 
 
2OO The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 could never win a race on his private account, though 
 Camel and Priam had left their undeniable traces on 
 his quarters and head. He seemed by no means to 
 feel his position, as, after clearing the Ring, and 
 driving Mr. Tattersall with a Chifney rush from his 
 box, he performed three or four distinct pas-seuls on 
 his hind legs. There he was like a great black 
 fountain of animal spirits towering over everything ; 
 a sight enough to make old Ducrow's dust " start 
 and tremble under his feet, and blossom in purple 
 and red." 
 
 West Australian was not deficient in quality, though 
 he was not indebted for that to his sire ; and if you go 
 into a paddock, and see a lengthy plain-headed foal 
 with lop ears gazing at you, it may be safely set 
 down as a Melbourne. The Bay Middletons are 
 generally easy to pick out, by the black speckles on 
 one of the front coronets ; the Alarms by their flesh- 
 coloured noses, and peculiarly indented-in-the-middle 
 outline of head ; the Orlandos by their tapering 
 heads, and tendency to white on the legs : the Cowls 
 by their round quarters ; the Birdcatchers by their 
 smart airy look, low-set-on tails, and rich golden 
 chestnut ; the Touchstones by their black-brown skins, 
 intelligent white-reach faces, and peculiarly high-bred 
 nostrils ; and the Sweetmeats by their " clear-cut 
 icily-regular" foreheads, which caused a trainer to 
 exclaim one autumn, as he looked over Mr. Cookson's 
 lot in the Salutation yard, " Dear me ! I wish I 
 showed half as much breeding about the head as 
 you do." 
 
 The pervading fault of modern horses is, that they 
 are as beautiful as a picture before the saddle, and 
 lack substance and coupling behind it ; while the 
 long shoulders, which are so much talked of, may 
 tend to send them down, but do very little towards 
 helping them up a hill. No "jumped-up" horse 
 ever docs much ; while a heavy shoulder or quarters, 
 
Blood Sires. 201 
 
 flat sides, light bz.ck-ribs, a light middle, legginess, 
 a peacock forehand, straight weak hocks, and high 
 withers, invariably denote an inability to stay. 
 Straight thighs, though they seldom get a horse well 
 up a hill, and long pasterns, are as generally an 
 indication of speed, as slanting thighs and a broad 
 chest are of the contrary, and very pretty two-year- 
 olds seldom improve on their form. We have also 
 seen many coffin-headed horses great gluttons for a 
 distance, and we do not dislike those which go wide 
 behind, though such a peculiarity does not suit short 
 quick races. 
 
 Still the types of distinguished runners vary most 
 wonderfully. Hambletonian was a very lofty lengthy 
 horse, with a fine back and big well-coupled ribs ; 
 while Priam, on the contrary, was rather light there, 
 and though a splendid animal when you stood up to 
 him, he looked remarkably narrow as you examined 
 him from behind. Glencoe and Haphazard were 
 both rather hollow-backed ; and the latter had a way 
 of poking his head straight out at exercise, which 
 made him appear one long level from his ears to his 
 tail. Surplice's fore-legs " look as if they grew out of 
 one hole" ; The Flying Dutchman was narrow and 
 light in the middle ; Blacklock had huge calf knees 
 and bad fore-legs altogether ; Voltigeur's forehand 
 is too massive ; Plenipo was as thick as a bullock ; 
 The Colonel had round heavy quarters and a general 
 lack of liberty about him ; and Violante was a great 
 fine mare who loved the A.F., while the little Meteora 
 delighted in "the Beacon." Size has, after all, not 
 much to do with success on the Turf, if a horse's 
 lungs and loins are only sound and strong, and 
 his machinery compactly placed for working. The 
 eighteen-hand Magog rolled about hopelessly from 
 distress before he had gone half a mile ; and Wild 
 Dayrell, Filho da Puta, and Birmingham, the latter 
 of whom was about sixtcen-three, are the largest 
 
202 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 horses that we remember to have run with marked 
 success. The turf " ponies," from Milksop, Ancaster 
 Starling, Highlander, and Gimcrack, (who was never 
 beat but once, and then by Bay Malton) down 
 to Midas and Mickey Free, have averaged fourteen- 
 two, and yet no horses have been more fortunate 
 at all distances from a mile to four miles, and at all 
 weights from 8st. /lb. to I2st. Still, if the pace be 
 strong and true from the start, horses have their dis- 
 tance measured out almost to a yard, and no reduc- 
 tion of weight, or training, or advantage in size, can 
 get them beyond it. For power, combined with good 
 size and speed, we never met with a finer unicorn than 
 Stockwell, Longbow, and Lord George. " A ton," as 
 the touts used to remark, was their " game." There 
 has too seldom been a sweeter mare to the eye than 
 Beeswing ; and though Recovery was thought hand- 
 some enough to model from, and Pantaloon was the 
 beau ideal of hosts of Englishmen as well as foreigners, 
 we are inclined to think that there have been few 
 more beautiful horses than Actaeon, Kingston, Fazzo- 
 letto, or Envoy, and none more truly proportioned 
 than little Rowton. Still for the type of what a really 
 serviceable racer ought to be, commend to us the low 
 and lengthy Fandango, with those great well-hooped 
 ribs knit into the most muscular of quarters, and that 
 stealing action close to the ground, and giving nothing 
 away. It is on the perpetuation of points like these, 
 and not on beauty, that our English horse fame 
 depends. 
 
 It is a very remarkable fact, that although before 
 Touchstone's time, Pot-8-os, Dr. Syntax, Sorcerer, 
 Sultan, Sir Hercules, Catton, The Colonel, Taurus, 
 Bay Malton, and Filho da Puta, were all first foals, 
 such was the late Marquis of Westminster's prejudice 
 against them that he always gave them away, and 
 was only prevented from so acting in the case of the 
 weakly white-faced firstling of Banter by despair of 
 
Blood Sires. 203 
 
 finding a thankful donee. Had the Marquis kept 
 hounds, little Touchstone might have been popped 
 into the kennel copper, and not been the first of such 
 Lilliputians who has furnished a dainty veal supper 
 to the hungry spotted tribe of the Rummagers and 
 the Rallywoods. Since Touchstone's escape, Mel- 
 bourne, Liverpool, Ion, The Baron, Kingston, Elthi- 
 ron, Inheritress, Wild Dayrell, and Fandango, have 
 trampled on this ancient theory. Touchstone himself 
 had magnificent quarters ; but his stock have too 
 often heavy shoulders, which sadly baffle the trainer's 
 art. His sire Camel's shoulders and withers were 
 high almost to deformity ; and his quarters were so 
 cloven and large, and his tail set on so low, that as 
 you looked at him from behind, and missed his fine 
 blood-like head, he seemed as strong and coarse as a 
 cart-horse. Camel was an especial favourite with Mr. 
 Theobald, and he refused an offer of IO,OOO/. for him, 
 Rockingham, Laurel, and Tarrare, who stood along 
 with Caccia Piatti, Cydnus, and one or two others at 
 his Stockwell stud farm. There has seldom been a 
 greater enthusiast in horseflesh than the old hosier of 
 Snow Hill, and he perfectly worshipped Whalebone. 
 If you called on him at his house of business, you 
 were invariably told that he was so much engaged 
 that he could see no one ; but " Perhaps you could say 
 that I have come about some horses!' was the unfailing 
 picklock of an interview. In a few short minutes the 
 hosiery points were settled out of hand, and his mas- 
 sive figure would be seen looming in the distance, in 
 top-boots and buckskins, and a capacious blue gilt- 
 buttoned coat a la Duke of Portland. If he did not 
 carry you off bodily to Stockwell, you were beckoned 
 forthwith behind the glass doors of his sanctum, 
 and there you sat, with the nuttiest of sherry and 
 the most venerable of port at your elbow, and 
 heard of Whalebone, the little " Whalebone weed" 
 (Spaniel), who was bought for I50/. over the Petwortli 
 
204 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 dinner-table, and won the Derby, with Mameluke, 
 Loutherbourg, and " all the coltish chronicle," by the 
 hour. 
 
 Dr. Bellyse, of Audlem, whose love of handicapping 
 and cock-fighting was so infinitely in advance of that 
 which he entertained for his pestle and mortar, that 
 it used to be said he never would attend any case 
 during Chester races, was an equally remarkable turf 
 character, though on the whole he preferred the cock- 
 pit to the racecourse. It was his cardinal doctrine 
 that the most incestuous eggs produced the strongest 
 fowls ; and so jealous was he of his breed, that when 
 one of his noted " crow-alleys" was sitting on a nest 
 of such eggs, and a great cock-fighting nobleman 
 offered him a fifty-pound note for her, he lifted her off 
 the nest, then and there, and broke all the eggs. 
 " Why, sir ! you sold me the eggs as well for the 5O/.," 
 was the indignant remonstrance ; and " No, indeed, my 
 lord, I didn't ; 1 sJwuld have asked you a tJwusand for 
 her and tJie nest" was the only rejoinder. To show 
 how this daintiness about breed may be set at 
 naught, we may call to mind how, after the memo- 
 rable cocking match at Melton, which ended in 
 a tie, one of the parties was actually so bare of 
 birds, that he gave a lad ten guineas to scour the 
 country, and out of the eleven cocks that fortunate 
 youth collected, no less than eight won their battles. 
 The Doctor's abstract faith in man was not great, as 
 he was occasionally heard to say to one of his 
 " feeders" " /'// just tell you what it is ; if you 
 thought you had one ounce of honest flesh in you, 
 youd run straight away to a surgeon and get it cut 
 out:' 
 
 The memory of Parson Nanney Wynn will also 
 long be green in his own country ; and he was never 
 more in his glory than when he started Banshee to 
 cut down Birmingham, and help Velocipede's sister 
 Moss Rose at Chester. " Howay at himParson 
 
Blood Sires. 205 
 
 lad taK the shine out of Brummagem buttons!" roared 
 a knot of burly Shropshire men who stood close be- 
 side him at the cords, as Birmingham went tearing 
 past them at Banshee's girths, and pulling himself to 
 pieces ; and the " parson's lad's" response of " Thank 
 you, gentlemen, /'// take the running precious soon out 
 of this Mr. All/taste" was amply verified when they 
 came round again. He adopted the name of Wynn 
 for some property ; but his horses, of whom he had a 
 great many good ones, still ran in his brother's name. 
 The sport was a perfect passion with him ; in a morn- 
 ing you would find him riding on his old white mare 
 round the paddocks with the stud groom, and as they 
 used to have endless racing and pedigree discussions, 
 the latter took care to arm himself, as he put on his 
 hat and gaiters, with the Book and Sheet Calendar in 
 either pocket. He also kept a pack of harriers ; and 
 as soon as his racers, which always stood at home in 
 the winter, had been attended to, the whole posse 
 comitatus would sally out to find a hare, and there 
 was no lack of good cheer in the servants' hall on 
 their return. Never was any man so delighted as 
 when his favourite mare Signorina beat Lord Dar- 
 lington's high-priced Memnon for the Manchester 
 Cup. After the race he escorted her back to scale, 
 and as her jockey was unsaddling, he gave her a fond 
 slap under the tail, and said, "How much for the 
 Leger winner? What do you think of the old Welsh 
 parson and his Welsh mare now ? they can beat every 
 one of you. Can t we, old girl ?" The Church used 
 to furnish an equally enthusiastic representative in 
 the shape of Parson Harvey. He was always dressed 
 in full clerical costume, though he was a sad sloven, 
 and cared very little for his cloth, in either sense of 
 the word. He was perpetually to be seen riding his 
 dearly beloved Phantom in a hood in Hyde Park, and 
 at one time he had this horse and three other sires 
 in his Pimlico stables. No man had a happier knack 
 
2c6 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 of taming them, a talent about which he was remark 
 ably proud and mysterious ; and few formed better 
 opinions of running than he did, when he drew up 
 his old gig by the side of the cords at Newmarket. 
 He perpetually bought a sire out of the studs when 
 he could get them cheap at the October meetings, 
 and might be seen at the close of the races driving 
 down the High-street with his new purchase tied 
 behind him. In one of these strange processions 
 Canterbury, whom he purchased from Lord Gros- 
 venor, especially figured ; but its new owner had long 
 ceased to have any terror of the Archbishop before 
 his eyes. He used to say that the Archbishop might 
 pluck off his gown, but he couldn't pluck out his 
 heart for Tattersall's ; and he was never more in his 
 glory than when he stood there, clinging on to the tail 
 of *fcndyke junior, and holding forth to the gazers on 
 the wondrous change in his temper, under his pastoral 
 care. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 BLOOD MARES. 
 
 " Give my horse to Timon : 
 It foals me straight and able horses." 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 TO the Turf enthusiast, stud annals are as rich in 
 information as the Fasti and Athenaeus are to 
 the scholar. They tell how Eldon " drove Madcap" 
 when she found herself bereaved, and took forcible 
 possession of her foal ; how Cselebs drank at Dan 
 Dawson's poisoned trough, and was only saved by 
 oceans of vinegar ; how Milksop took fright at her 
 foal, and flatly refused to suckle it ; how Young 
 Cyprus was wounded in the Peninsular War, and a 
 Bugle mare mysteriously spirited away from her pad- 
 dock one night for ever and aye ; how Kappa out of 
 Beta was killed by lightning ; how Sir C. Bunbury 
 sold his grey Diomede colt with a leg growing out of 
 its chest to a showman ; how Touch-me-not under- 
 went the Caesarean operation after death ; how sister 
 to Batteraway had a fire accident ; how Languish was 
 home-sick, and refused to breed under a foreign sky ; 
 how Vesta had her fourteen foals all greys, and Elis's 
 dam was barren for ten out of twenty seasons ; how 
 Mrs. Candour broke her neck out hunting, and Altisi- 
 dora died, heavy in foal to Blacklock, as she struggled 
 to get out of the ditch ; how Speed always made a 
 point of killing her foals, while a Tuft mare could 
 never rear one to live ; how Resurrection was thrown 
 
208 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 away as a foal for dead, and revived on a warm dung- 
 heap ; how Wanderer spent his life in carrying his 
 litter out of his box into the yard, and never let any 
 one catch his eye or see him lie down from the time 
 he was put out of training ; and how in the spring of 
 1825 nearly every brood mare and sympathetic she- 
 ass on the Petworth estate cast full-grown dead foals 
 from no apparent cause. Generations of Barnums 
 might have made their market by watching stud- 
 farms alone. The curiosities of breeding experience 
 are, in fact, endless. Two foals are registered as 
 having had five legs apiece ; an Orvile mare, after 
 going thirty-seven days beyond her time, gave birth 
 to one with no feet ; and her half-sister, not to be out- 
 done, had another, shortly after, with no eyes. Lord 
 George Bentinck was very fond of breeding experi- 
 ments. Monstrosity produced such a good foal in 
 Ugly Buck, when she was only three, that he deter- 
 mined to steal another year, and sent Experiment to 
 Venison when she was just eleven months old, but her 
 colt barely lived twenty-four hours. The dam of 
 Montreal was the most remarkable prodigy that ever 
 passed through his hands, as she was in foal only 
 three times in 1842-47, and threw twins each time. 
 In many instances mares have had twins their first 
 season ; but as a general rule it is hardly possible to 
 rear one, much less both. The nurture of Tweedle- 
 dee-dum and Tweedle-dee-dee was a strong instance 
 to the contrary ; and the strangeness of the " diffe- 
 rence" between them consisted in the superior thriving 
 of the one which was reared, like little Milksop, upon 
 cow's milk. Occasionally a twin is put in training ; 
 but King Pepin is the only one, of late years, which 
 has shown any form. Cedric, the Derby winner, may 
 also be mentioned as a singular instance of a horse 
 who never got a foal ; and we remember one of less 
 note which, season after season, refused to notice a 
 mare, till he was left alone with one and had sucked 
 
Blood Mares. 209 
 
 her dry. Launcelot was also, we believe, very trouble- 
 some at first, and The Magnet held out for three sea- 
 sons, but Tom Dawson still hoped on, and Magnifier 
 was the handsome result. 
 
 Without a very stout cross indeed, it would be 
 almost hopeless to expect the Selim blood to stay. 
 Lords Exeter and Jersey have held the two great 
 branches of it ; and while the Burleigh stud generally 
 retained the gaudy face and legs of Crockford's horse, 
 the "Jersey bays" approached nearer the whole 
 colour of their dam Cobweb, one of the finest and 
 most perfect mares that ever looked through a bridle. 
 She always ran in flesh, and with the exception of a 
 few half-speed gallops, she did no work for nearly ten 
 days before the Oaks, for which Lord Jersey's coach- 
 man had I2OO/. to 2OO/. about her, and stood it out. 
 Her own feet were very fine and sound ; but her 
 grandsire, Soothsayer, had a club foot, which com- 
 pelled him to do a good deal of his work on straw. 
 This defect, which slumbered for two generations, 
 brought unsoundness into her stock (of which Achmet 
 was perhaps the handsomest) ; and a slight contrac- 
 tion of one the front feet is observable in many of the 
 descendants of Bay Middleton. To see this horse go 
 curling and twisting up to the post, as was his wont, 
 one would have thought him rather weak-built and 
 faint-hearted, whereas he was quite the contrary, and 
 only kept from a great Gold Cup career by his leg 
 infirmity. Lord George Bentinck always believed 
 that his last lameness did not result from a break- 
 down in the back sinews, for which he was treated, 
 but from the snapping of a small bone in the foot. 
 He was a very fine specimen of a cross between Selim 
 and the Phantom blood, which Was alike fortunately 
 combined with Partisan's in Glaucus, and with 
 Tramp's in Glencoe. It was equally well suited 
 with Catton's in the Flying Dutchman, and with 
 Paulowitz's in Wild Dayrell ; while Pyrrhus the 
 
 P 
 
2 1 o The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 First and Andover were fine combinations of it with 
 Defence, and tended to make the Defence mares 
 exceedingly valuable. We remember hearing Mr. 
 William Etwall say, that it was from a firm convic- 
 tion that he could not fail to " hit the blood" that he 
 sent his "sister to ^Egis" to Bay Middleton in 1850; 
 and his idea of its being the proper cross was so 
 much confirmed when he saw Andover as a yearling, 
 that he sent the mare to him five times running. 
 The late Duke of Grafton was nearly as fond of the 
 smart Reubens' blood as he was of Waxy's ; and in 
 short, as a writer has well expressed it, " every page 
 of the Calendar tends to fix this on the breeder's 
 memory that the Waxy blood, crossed with that of 
 Selim, Reubens, and Castrel, invariably runs." Alex- 
 ander's has always been a very sterling blood, and 
 there has been no finer cross in modern days than 
 that between Tramp and Waverley, which was united 
 in old Inheritress. Don John was fathered on both 
 of them, but the story goes, that his dam turned from 
 Tramp, and that she was then sent by her groom, on 
 his own responsibility, to Waverley. The luck of this 
 mare was very remarkable, as she foaled Don John, 
 and Hetman Platoff by Brutandorf, in successive 
 seasons. 
 
 Penelope, Banter, a Canopus mare, and Gooseander 
 all threw a brace of Epsom or St. Leger winners to 
 the same horse ; while Emma, Arcot Lass, and Bar- 
 belle had equal success to different ones. Queen 
 Mary has also been alike lucky whether she visited 
 Melbourne's, Annandale's, lago's, Mosstrooper's or 
 " Mango and Lanercost's " paddocks. Mandane has 
 also quite a claim to rank with Prunella ; and never 
 was luck more strange than when Mr. Watt purchased 
 her and her yearling, the St. Leger-winning Altisi- 
 dora, along with Petuaria, Tramp, Manuella, &c., in 
 one lot from Mr. Hewett. This prime daughter of 
 Pot-8-os is not onlv credited with Altisidora bv Dick 
 
Blood Mares. 2 1 1 
 
 Andrews, but she had also Lottery by Tramp, and 
 Brutandorf by Blacklock, when she was in Mr. Watt's 
 hands. The great racing lines of Tramp, Blacklock, 
 Lottery, and Brutandorf which are represented in 
 the present generation by Loupgarou, Voltigeur, 
 Weatherbit, and The Cure may all thus be virtually 
 traced back to the stud farm at Bishop Burton. It 
 was thought at one time that Physician would have 
 done wonders for the Brutandorf blood ; but his 
 stock, although uncommonly smart and quick, were 
 small and weedy, and sad cowards at three-year-old 
 distances. In fact, we consider that for a time they 
 did as much towards spoiling the stamp of thorough- 
 breds in Yorkshire, as Mountebank did that of the 
 hunters in the Midland Counties. The Blacklock 
 blood was kept up to the highest point in Voltaire, 
 by a cross with a Phantom ; and the dam of Volti- 
 geur, who is coarser in his points than his sire, was a 
 Mulatto. The Saddler blood is synonymous with 
 stoutness ; and " The Squire" was at one time as 
 fond of it as he latterly became of Touchstone's, 
 but that of Comus does not stand now where it pro- 
 mised to do in Reveller's day, when he and his two 
 half-brothers all from the Belle-Isle stables were 
 alone placed for the St. Leger ; and even the great 
 Lucetta did not sustain its prestige, when she ceased to 
 bear the white banner of Sir Mark. One of the greatest 
 racing bargains ever made was when Sir Charles 
 Turner purchased Hambletonian, 3 years, Bening- 
 borough, 4 years, and Oberon, 5 years, from Mr. J. 
 Hutchinson, with their engagements, for 3000 guineas, 
 at York August, and won every race but one with the 
 two first at the very next Doncaster Meeting. Mr. 
 Thomas Parr, the Turf Talleyrand, who is certainly 
 one of the most remarkable studies of acute man 
 nature that the world possesses, gave at intervals 
 something between 5OO/. and 6oo/. in all for Weather- 
 gage, Saucebox, Defiance, Clothworker, and Morti- 
 
 P 2 
 
2 1 2 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 mer, whose sales and stakes alone produced him 
 about 2O,ooo/. How strangely this luck contrasts 
 with the lamentation we lately heard from an owner's 
 lips, as he looked at a little wretch, for which he had 
 given very little short of 1000 guineas in a straw- 
 yard, and devoutly wished that any one would take it 
 out of his sight. The dams of Crucifix and The Hero, 
 with those great racers at their foot, and a Wildgoose 
 mare in foal with Blacklock, did not average 20 
 guineas apiece ; Blacklock's dam was picked up for 
 3/. at a fair ; the dam of Mr. Val Maher's wonderful 
 grey hunter, Leatherhead, was bought for a guinea ; 
 and it may also be mentioned, that when the late Mr. 
 Stephenson became tired of his brood mares, he 
 offered a friend the choice of Martha Lynn (heavy 
 in foal with Voltigeur), Yarico, or a Cain mare, for 
 25/., and that he chose the latter. Earl Zetland, who 
 scarcely ever seems to breed a bad one, sent the 
 hollow-backed Castanette, out of compliment to his 
 double victor, to Barton, in 1851, who was merely 
 serving half-breds, and had Fandango as the reward 
 of his loyalty. 
 
 The luck of the best and most fashionable sires is 
 especially fluctuating. Lanercost had the picked mares 
 of England in 1847-48, but without success. Irish 
 Birdcatcher, on the contrary, had a wonderfully fine 
 season in 1848, and his stock carried everything 
 before them when they ran in 1851-52 ; but those of 
 1849 were of quite another stamp : and Mr. Plummer's 
 Alice Hawthorne, although her Lord Falconberg 
 looked big enough to carry his half-brother Young 
 Hawthorne, had again a most unworthy representa- 
 tive of her own prowess. The Flea was equally eccentric 
 when she produced the mite of a Cimicina, and then 
 after a year's rest, the great roundabout Canary. 
 Scarcely any sires run successfully after being once 
 put to the stud. Even " Sammy King and Catton," 
 who were almost invincible in their day, failed when 
 
Blood Mares. 2 1 3 
 
 they essayed it ; and Jericho's " revival" in the Flying 
 Dutchman's Ascot Cup is the best modern performance 
 of the kind. 
 
 Nature has no set laws, or at least no turf Newton 
 can discover them, as to the best age for breeding 
 from a mare ; and, in fact, all our great runners have 
 been born at haphazard, between three and twenty- 
 three. A sire may go on for five or six years more ; 
 but a mare generally becomes very feeble after that 
 age, and either misses or throws diseased foals. It is 
 no doubt very desirable, as with greyhounds, to have 
 youth on one side ; and it invariably happens that if a 
 mare is very old, or has been very much knocked 
 about before she is put to the stud, she reproduces un- 
 soundness, which may be slumbering in herself, and 
 seems to lose all power of counterbalancing that or 
 any other bad points in the- horse. We remember a 
 remarkable instance of a mare, who had hunted with 
 fifteen stone, and been driven and ridden on the road 
 with little cessation till she was nearly twenty ; and 
 although neither she nor the young horse she was 
 then sent to had ever been doctored for a curb, or 
 shown any symptoms of one, her two foals had their 
 hind legs as curved as scythes, and age only very 
 partially removed their deformity. Apropos of the 
 subject of hard work, which may have had its effect 
 on the Crucifix stock, it is worthy of note that Re- 
 becca, the dam of Alice Hawthorne, Rowena, Annan- 
 dale, and Fair Helen (the dam of Lord of the Hills 
 and Lord of the Isles), never did a day's work in her 
 life. In fact, we have it from her late owner, who 
 leased her for several years before his death to Mr. 
 Andrew Johnstone, that, to the best of his belief, 
 neither she nor her dam, nor her grandam, had ever 
 been broken in. Meteora, Plover, and Violante, who 
 were all of them in Lord Grosvenor's hands at one 
 time, never had a foal worth its corn. 
 
 Whether it be politic to breed from a roarer or, 
 
2 1 4 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 politely speaking (with a fear of a Nisi Prius before 
 our eyes), " a high blower" is still a fierce moot-point. 
 This infirmity is unfortunately becoming more and 
 more the rule instead of the exception ; and if all 
 the thorough-bred animals so afflicted were offered up 
 a sacrifice to ^Eolus on Newmarket Heath, he would 
 snuff the scent of at least two hecatombs a year. We 
 have met with many who assert that it has increased 
 among hunters very considerably since the habit of 
 turning them out for a summer's run was abandoned 
 that in fact they have become roarers from stable idle- 
 ness, and an inability to throw off, in that confined 
 atmosphere, any throat ulceration they may have con- 
 tracted. It has been gravely laid down as a great 
 principle, that the throats of all "talking" blood sires 
 should at once be cut ; but we are strongly disposed 
 to believe that the massacre should be confined to the 
 other sex, and that the exterior conformation of the 
 foal is for the most part derived from the sire, and the 
 interior from the dam. As far as our observation 
 goes, the foal of a roaring dam seldom fails to inherit 
 it, while those got by a roarer very often escape it. A 
 Northern veterinary surgeon has supported this con- 
 formation theory by the ingenious remark that the 
 produce of a horse and a she-ass always brays, while 
 that of a mare and a jackass hinnies ; but we cannot 
 speak from ear on this point. It is said by some 
 herdsmen that it is dangerous to put a polled cow 
 for instance to a shorthorn bull, as she never loses the 
 traces of that impregnation after. Stud owners seem 
 to have no such fears before them, as Touchstone's 
 own sister Pasquinade, the dam of Slander and the 
 Libel, has been twice over successfully put to a cart 
 horse after a season of barrenness by way of a change. 
 Many odd stories are told about the enthusiasm of 
 the tykes on mares and foals, and how a sly pub- 
 lican led an antiquary, who asked if there were any 
 remarkable spots in the neighbourhood, to a paddock 
 
Blood Mares. 2 1 5 
 
 behind his inn, and pointing out a large elm-tree, in- 
 formed him that " a winner of t' Leger were foaled 
 under it." 
 
 The calculations about blood-stock produce whc 
 are destined to fight the battles of Epsom and Don- 
 caster are sadly imperfect, owing to the carelessness 
 of non-racing breeders as to stud-book returns. The 
 nearest approximation we can make to them is, that 
 in 1853-56 an average of 1714 mares were sent to the 
 horse; of these 53 slipped their foals and 434 were 
 barren, while the average of colts was 627 against 
 600 fillies, In 1856 it seems that 1864 mares threw 
 1355 live foals, among which the fillies were in a 
 55 minority. Accidents and diseases effect such a 
 highly successful elimination in the next seven months, 
 that only from three to four hundred are found in the 
 Epsom and St. Leger entries ; while perhaps two to 
 three hundred more must be set down as the property 
 of breeders who do not care to engage, or do not 
 think them worth engaging, in these great stakes. As 
 far as we can ascertain, there were 1160 blood foals 
 brought to the birth in England and Ireland in 1851, 
 and certainly not iiooof them were alive on New 
 Year's Day, 1852. Watching their further progress 
 through the pages of the Racing Calendar, we find 
 that 5 74 of them ran in 1853. This number decreased, 
 in 1854, to 516; but two seasons of training tell a 
 fearful tale, and in 1855 the remnant of that high-bred 
 band only numbered 280, as two-year-old racing lays 
 the seeds of infirmity which even the " British Re- 
 medy" cannot baffle. 
 
 Old fashioned breeders like Mr. Kirby, who kept 
 a dozen mares and a first-class horse, whom they 
 changed every four or five years, the moment his 
 subscription began to lag, were wont to consider 150 
 guineas a good average price for their yearlings. As 
 a general thing, the purchases above this figure do 
 not prosper in proportion to the fine looks which 
 
2 1 6 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 have induced the outlay ; and, absurd as it may 
 seem, it is the worst luck in the world to christen a 
 yearling by an outlandish name. Priam fetched 
 1000 guineas as a yearling, and Sir Mark's execu- 
 tors had to thank the untried Camarine and Lucetta 
 for the wonderful success of their sale, where five 
 yearlings brought 2235 guineas, and four foals 1181 
 guineas. If we add this latter amount to what Lord 
 Durham got for eight foals in 1830, we have the 
 absolutely apocryphal average of 350 guineas ! Glen- 
 livat, by Rowton or Cetus, out of Camarine, was the 
 1010 guinea premier of Sir Mark's yearlings ; and a 
 colt by Jerry, out of Lucetta, the 640 guinea one of 
 the foals. The Dutchman cost 1000 guineas as a 
 foal, and so did Barbelle's last foal Kirkleatharn, 
 while Van Tromp brought 300 guineas in his foal- 
 hood, and Zuyder Zee 1000 guineas in his yearling 
 days. Such high prices for yearlings were, however, 
 far from being as general as they are now, and bidders 
 not unfrequently adopted the plan of not opposing 
 each other, but of " tossing up " or " knocking out " 
 afterwards. If our memory serves us, The Kedger 
 and Weatherbit were bought on this principle, Lord 
 George Bentinck losing the toss for both of them. 
 Shortly before this, when Muley reigned supreme at 
 Underley, sixteen of his yearlings plodded their 
 weary way over the Yorkshire Moors by Skipton to 
 Doncaster ; but Mr. Nowell and the grooms came 
 back rejoicing to the quaker-haunted Westmoreland 
 with the astounding news that the lot had averaged 
 331 guineas apiece ! Snowstorm, a son of Rebecca's, 
 gave the late Mr. A. Johnstone a foretaste of his stud 
 success by realizing 710 guineas, and he also made 
 500 guineas at the same lucky spot, in front of " The 
 Salutation," both with a Morsel colt and Johnny 
 Armstrong, who died before he could publicly prove 
 the truth of a very high trial. General Anson had 
 also good prices for many years, and the average of 
 
Blood Mares. 2 1 7 
 
 his eight, including Hernandez, in 1849, was 344 
 guineas. Prices were very quiet in 1853, when 
 Cavalier (520 guineas) was the premier ; but the 
 honour of being the Anni Mirabiles of the stud was 
 reserved for 1854-55. The whole fourteen Royal 
 yearlings, in the first of these years, averaged 441 
 guineas, six of the colts making 611 guineas, and a 
 like number of the fillies 406 guineas. This one- 
 thousand-guinea " Yellow Jack " epidemic soon 
 spread : The Salutation, true to itself, heard Mr. 
 Tattersall's hammer fall that autumn to 1020 guineas 
 for Voivode, and before another year had flown we 
 heard of two, if not three more 1000 guineas private 
 sales, two of 1200, and another of 1500 guineas. In 
 the autumn of 1855, Mr. A. Johnstone averaged 311 
 guineas apiece for his fifteen yearlings ; but the 
 average was unduly swelled by the sale of Lord of 
 the Hills, who ran the gamut from 200 guineas to 
 1800 guineas, by a succession of rapid 5O-guinea bids. 
 Four commissioners were at work, one of whom left 
 off at 800 guineas ; while a Newmarket trainer, who 
 had come with a commission to that amount in his 
 pocket, never got a bid at all. It was the general 
 impression that Mr. Crauford had as little intention 
 of being beaten for this luckless colt, as he had when 
 he was wont to send on The Shaver to a favourite 
 meet with the Quorn. The Royal Stud has averaged 
 about 220 guineas for its fifty-three yearlings in 
 1851-55, and 1 60 guineas in 1856 ; but still if breeders 
 could calculate on 100 guineas apiece for every blood 
 yearling they bring to the hammer, they would not 
 do far amiss ; whereas the average of yearling prices, 
 at public sales, in 1854 was 136^ guineas, and 120 
 guineas for 1854-56. The largest and most furnished 
 yearling within modern trainers' memory, is Hunting 
 Horn, who, but for his mouth, might have been any 
 age to look at; he was sold at that age for 5 70 guineas, 
 and his owner, who lives at Doncaster, and only keeps 
 
2 1 8 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 two mares, averaged 428 guineas annually for three 
 of his yearlings, between 1849 an d 1856 : Fortune 
 has, however, squared matters with him, as both his 
 1856 foals died. Cyprian also proved a golden 
 mine to John Scott, with whom she may well be a 
 favourite, as his average is far beyond Mr. Sadler's, 
 and for twice the number to boot. The Streatlam 
 Paddocks are, after all, the El Dorado of blood stock. 
 ^Besides " The West," they have sent Mundig, Cother- 
 stone, Daniel O'Rourke, Hetman PlatofT, Epirus, 
 Springy Jack, and Fly-by-night to Whitewall, in little 
 more than twenty years. Durham has, however, 
 always been as renowned for thorough-breds as for 
 short-horns. For nearly forty years Lord Darlington 
 bred his best winners at Raby, and Voltigeur and 
 Virago were also " raised " there. Prices of sires are 
 wonderfully variable, and if they are put up at Tatter- 
 sail's in a dull time, they often make next to nothing. 
 Coningsby and Tadmor, if we remember rightly, had 
 to be bought in at 50 guineas, and not a soul would 
 open his mouth to bid for Touchstone's own brother, 
 Launcelot. However, Mr. A. Johnstone made a hun- 
 dred-guinea bid the next Monday, and got him. Old 
 England on the contrary, was bought in on one Mon- 
 day for 580 guineas, and sent again in the course of a 
 month, when he had no bid beyond 300 guineas ; and 
 a Dutchman yearling, one summer, fetched only 14 
 guineas at the Rawcliffe Paddock sale, and 74 guineas 
 at Tatter-sail's about two months after. So much for 
 the fickleness of purchasers ! Brother to Ban was the 
 most painfully deformed object we ever saw at The 
 Corner, and a couple of Auckland foals, which 
 squeaked like sucking pigs when they were separated, 
 after realizing about four guineas each, the most 
 shaggy and starved. Their sire had a most wonderful 
 escape from being scalded to death, as a yearling, on 
 the North Western, which compromised his burns and 
 the death of his companion filly for, as it was said at 
 
Blood Mares. 219 
 
 the time, 3000 guineas, in consequence of their heavy 
 forfeits. 
 
 The walk to the Bishop Burton Paddocks from 
 Beverley lost half its beauty in our eyes, from the me- 
 lancholy associations it revived of the olden time, when 
 Squire Watt, in his " truly British " blue coat and buff 
 waistcoat, made thorough-breds his heart's delight. 
 We left Beverley by the York road, and wended our 
 way through the pleasant common-lands of Westwood, 
 along the side of the racecourse. The prospect from 
 the hill opposite the Stand, on the morning we first 
 climbed it, was one that would have softened an an- 
 chorite. Just in front of us was the Stand, whose 
 silken jackets and burly crowd with their shouts of 
 " T'oud Squire wins," and " she'll give him ten poond 
 and lick his heed off," had given way for the nonce, 
 to " Sim " and a quiet group of scarlets, who were 
 awaiting The Holderness, as, with their " many-twink- 
 ling feet" and sterns, they trotted gently up the course. 
 Pretty little Beverley, flanked by its magnificent gothic 
 minster, and coloured here and there with the red-tile 
 roofs so peculiar to this part of Yorkshire, just peeped 
 over the undulating Westwood foreground, and we 
 could not help contrasting its misty quiet, with the 
 restless spirit of speculation, which went to and fro, 
 month after month, the whole length and breadth of 
 its republic, when Peter Simple 
 
 " With Cunning Tom upon his back, 
 And half the tin of Beverlac" 
 
 was the hero of English steeple-chasers, or when 
 Nancy, the bay pride of Burton Pidsea, was luring 
 it, as well as its neighbour, Hull, to sell the very, 
 beds from under them to back her. 
 
 Following the footpath, we arrived at a high white 
 gate on the left, the proscenium to an avenue of 
 elms, which leads to the Hall, and the church in 
 which Mr. Watt lies buried. Here and at Bishop 
 
2 2O The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Burton Hall, which he left about 1833, the old man 
 was always roaming amongst his paddocks and 
 watching his favourites with anxious care. The 
 last of his brood mares, which still revels here, 
 is a mare called Birthday, by Assault, out of Ni- 
 tocris, who was foaled on his birthday. He never 
 could find in his heart to have her trained ; twice or 
 thrice she was under orders for departure : but when 
 the day arrived, he could not bear to let her go, as 
 he said they would only break her down. There are 
 not a few pictures in the Hall by Dolby and Herring. 
 Blacklock by the former, and as large as life, faced 
 us on the staircase ; but Manuella, Altisidora, and 
 Belshazzar were far more to our taste. Passing down 
 the hill, and near the bachelor residence of Mr. Frank 
 Watt, we crossed the road to the old Bishop Burton 
 Hall, originally purchased by one Roger Gee, a 
 Liverpool merchant, who rebuilt the place, and laid 
 down a two-mile gallop on the Wold in front of it. 
 Its late owner took a dislike to it, and the very 
 mantel-pieces and door-frames have been pulled 
 down. A narrow walk, with one of the best yew- 
 fences we ever yet saw in " merrie England," led us 
 to the stables, on whose doors the plates of Memnon, 
 Blacklock, Belshazzar, Barefoot, Rockingham, Alti- 
 sidora, Muta, and a host of other winners, still hang, 
 as silent tablets of the luck of other days. Black- 
 lock's box is still pointed out with especial reverence ; 
 and as the housekeeper guided us, candle in hand, 
 through the half-ruined Hall, we came on the skele- 
 ton room, where the coarse frame of the " terrible 
 brown" is encased side by side with Muta. The 
 mare's off shoulder-blade still bore marks of the run- 
 ning sore, which no syringe could heal ; and ere she 
 died, it had eaten its stealthy way right through the 
 bone. The strength of the pasturage and the beau- 
 tiful combination of hill and dale make these pad- 
 docks a perfect paradise for blood mares and foals. 
 
Blood Mares. 221 
 
 The large field especially is dotted here and there 
 with wide-spreading chestnut-trees, to shade them 
 from the heat ; and our attendant told us how of 
 yore the mares and foals would come dashing wildly 
 en masse down the hill, through the valley, and up 
 the opposite one, like a charge of Cossacks, till Mr. 
 Watt and his grooms fairly looked on trembling, lest 
 some of their brave little bits of Tramp, Blacklock, 
 or Lottery blood should be rolled head over heels 
 down the steep. The short-horns of a neighbouring 
 farmer quietly browse on it now ; but we would fain 
 hope that the thorough-bred traditions which still 
 linger fondly round it, will ere long be potent to 
 drive these intruders from the spot, and people it 
 with blood-stock, not inferior to those on which 
 John Jackson in the harlequin sc often rode back in 
 tiiumph to scale. 
 
222 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 BREEDING OF HUNTERS. 
 
 " Sad and fearful is the story, 
 Of the hunt in Leicestershire ; 
 On that fatal field of glory, 
 Met full many a dashing squire." 
 
 DO persuade Meynell to give up the chase: he has 
 been hunting the fox these thirty years, but 
 human glory has its limits." So wrote Sidney Smith 
 to the mistress of Quorn Hall in the days of its 
 highest renown, with about as much effect as when 
 he preached the " sermon smelling of sulphur/' in 
 the training metropolis of the East Riding. Men, 
 whose hearts are with the racer and the starting post, 
 may sicken and tire as their years count up ; but the 
 votaries of horn and hound fondly love on to the 
 close, with all the constancy of the turtle-dove. They 
 want, as a Yorkshire Earl pithily expressed it, when 
 he bade his annual good-bye to his yeomanry troop, 
 nothing all winter but twenty couples of leaders, 
 and to keep no lines but their own. While, how- 
 ever, they agree on these great points, it is strange 
 to note how almost every sportsman of experience 
 seems to have a pet theory of his own as to the quali- 
 ties of a hunter, and the precise plan of breeding 
 them a problem which, year after year, puts to con- 
 fusion the hoariest spae-w r ives in paddock lore. The 
 mythical cit who is popularly supposed to have met 
 
Breeding of. Hunters. 223 
 
 the Pytcheley, and asked " Who is Old 'Ard ? I've 
 heard the huntsman calling to him all day, and I've 
 never seen him yet," would not be more baffled if 
 he had to take Charles Payne's place, than breeders 
 of racing stock have been in their most cherished 
 fancies. Breeding for the turf has in fact become 
 such a mere lottery, that many racing men trouble 
 themselves very little as to whether a sire is perfect 
 in the points where their mares are deficient ; but if 
 they fancy a horse or his running, they take a sub- 
 scription, and leave the rest to fortune. " Everything 
 can gallop a bit," was an old hunter-breeder's con- 
 fession of faith to us, " with your eight stone seven 
 of saddle and satin on his back ; but it's not every- 
 thing that can check hounds with twelve stone of 
 scarlet !" One of them also assured us that he could 
 never get the exact cut of a hunter he had set his 
 mind on, till in despair he put his short-legged cart 
 mare to a thorough-bred horse. Her first filly foal 
 was laid up in lavender till she was rising five, and 
 then crossed with a thorough-bred ; and this union 
 inaugurated a long line of fast, weight-carrying hun- 
 ters, which have been the apple of his eye for years. 
 Others, while they think that to carry weight nothing 
 can beat the cross of a blood-horse with an active, 
 high-shouldered cart mare, as firmly maintain that 
 the second remove is never so good as the first. And 
 on we might go through a perfect bede-roll of breed- 
 ing specifics, alike plausible and speculative. The 
 best instance of the first cross that we remember was 
 a mare called Poll of the Vale, by Great Britain, 
 who was bought at four years old out of a team for 
 28/., with hair enough on her legs to stuff a moderate 
 sized pillow. After carrying a seventeen-stone man 
 for two or three seasons, she was sold for 300 guineas 
 to the Hon. Wellesley Pole, with a promise that 
 she should be given back when she could hunt 
 no longer ; and although she passed through several 
 
224 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 hands, this contingency was kept alive, and she died 
 in giving birth to a colt by Vandyke junior, in her 
 old owner's paddock. A Sir Joshua mare called 
 Cashmere was similarly bred, and after being bought 
 at Melton Fair for 38/., passing through Mr. Maxe's 
 hands, and making 350 guineas at Tattersall's, she 
 became the property of the late Mr. John Moore, of 
 the old Melton Club, for 300 guineas, and was in his 
 stud when he died. 
 
 Our own impression is that to secure a good hunter 
 the size should be on the side of the dam, and the 
 breeding on that of the sire. A large roomy mare 
 should be put to a small, compact blood horse. Sir 
 Harry Goodricke, whose courtesy and discrimination 
 of character, both in man and horse, has never been 
 surpassed, was especially particular on this point, 
 and would never buy a hunter whose sire was not 
 thorough-bred. Still, ideas of hunters differ so 
 widely, that we can only observe that one of the very 
 worst faults they can acquire is not to care for falling, 
 and fall back ourselves on the following masterly 
 analysis, with which we have been favoured by one of 
 the finest horsemen and judges of the day. " Had I 
 to choose a hunter," he says, " by seeing one point 
 only, it should be his head ; for I never knew one 
 with a small, clean, intelligent face and prominent 
 eyes to be bad. I like his neck also to be muscular, 
 but not heavy ; shoulders well back, with long arms ; 
 short from the knee to the fetlock; pasterns rather 
 long, but not upright ; his feet cannot well be de- 
 scribed on paper, but they should be large and per- 
 fect, or all the rest is as ' leather and prunella.' His 
 back should not be too short, and he should have 
 stout loins and wide hips, and good length from the 
 latter to his hocks, which should be rather turned 
 inwards. Added to this, he should be large round 
 the girth, but whether in depth or width does not 
 much signify ; and the higher he is bred the greater 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 225 
 
 his intelligence, and the speedier his recovery from the 
 effects of a hard day." 
 
 We dare not attempt to decide the point of sound- 
 ness between the advocates of large versus small feet ; 
 but, as far as our own observation goes, no foot that 
 is low and weak at the heel will stand much wear and 
 tear in the hunting-field. If, too, there is one thing 
 more than another to be avoided, it is a short 
 shouldered hunter : they may go well for a short 
 distance, but the moment they get leg-weary terrible 
 is their fall. When they make the slightest mistake 
 at a fence, they topple over, with their legs under 
 them, in a heap, without a hope of recovery, and down 
 goes the rider before his horse. The long-shouldered 
 ones have, on the contrary, so much more liberty about 
 them, that they have always a leg to spare ; and if 
 they do put down their riders, they do it like gentle- 
 men, and give them ample notice. It is the mail- 
 driver's old parallel over again between a road and a 
 railway accident " If the coach goes over, why, 
 you're there ! but if this 'ere steamer goes over, where 
 are you ?" Depth of girth is generally a sign of 
 speed, as width is of endurance ; and the Melton men 
 have for many years back declared that, to carry 
 weight, their horses must measure at least six feet 
 round. A noble lord was so tenacious on the point 
 that he used to carry a six-foot piece of tape in his 
 waistcoat-pocket throughout the whole season. On 
 one occasion he went to look at a horse, with two 
 friends, who, knowing his especial whim, contrived to 
 get hold of his tape just before he went into the 
 stable, and cut a couple of inches off it. " I've seen 
 them measure more, and I've seen them measure less," 
 was his remark, as he held up his tape to the light, 
 and found that the horse was only two inches short of 
 its full length. We don't know whether to this day he 
 has found out the joke, but he bought the horse then 
 and there, and rode him in the first flight for three or 
 
 Q 
 
226 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 four seasons. The measurement should, we think, be 
 got as much as possible by depth, as most hunting 
 men like a horse thin between the knees, which 
 makes it nearly as difficult for him to get rid of them 
 as to cast their own skin. Big coffin-heads generally 
 betoken a bad mouth and a tendency to pull hard, 
 and if they are not accompanied by a bold eye, the 
 majority of hunting men will never look at them. Be 
 the head large or small, it must always have plenty of 
 meaning in it, or it is heavy odds that the purchase 
 will be a sorry one, as far as jumping goes, and the 
 rider be obliged to come out with a telescope in his 
 pocket. 
 
 The measuring mania .rather brought the Melton 
 men to grief in one instance, when a well known 
 Leicestershire sportsman, whose portrait on " Old 
 Prince" appeared in the Royal Academy of 1844, im- 
 ported a little brown horse by Cannonball, and marked 
 exactly like his sire, out of Shropshire, to Melton, 
 where he was originally bred. He was first offered to 
 a noble earl for 200 guineas, but the reply was that 
 he was " a sweet park horse, but has not length enough 
 for Leicestershire." A similar answer arrived from 
 another lord, and he was offered thirdly to the bearer 
 of the white tape, who immediately whipped it out, 
 and expressed his astonishment that so old a sports- 
 man should recommend him " a mere weed." How- 
 ever, an afternoon fox of the right sort was found at 
 Owston Wood, and the little fifteen-two " weed" took 
 six gates in succession in one lane. Luckily, " The 
 Squire" from the Pytcheley had come to the meet, 
 and as soon as they killed, he called out to his rider, 
 "My man ! I5O/. for your horse." And so the result 
 was that " the weed" had left for Northamptonshire in 
 less than twenty-four hours, with 200 guineas on his 
 head. During the following Croxton Park races, as a 
 main of cocks was being fought between Sir Harry 
 Goodricke and Mr. George Walker, a letter written 
 
Breeding of Winters. 227 
 
 with a skewer, as were all " The Squire's," was put 
 into Sir Harry's hands, and its hieroglyphics deci- 
 phered as follows, amid immense merriment : 
 
 " DEAR GOODRICKE, I can scarcely believe that you Melton men 
 
 know a horse from a jackass. Old offered to three of your noble 
 
 lords the horse I bought from him, and I wish them to know that I am 
 prepared to run any one of them, or any other Melton man, or any man 
 in the world, four miles for 4007. ! eight ditto for 8oo/. ! ! or ten ditto 
 for iooo/. ! ! ! twelve stone each, over Leicestershire, or any other 
 county in England," &c. &c. &c. 
 
 Eight years after, the horse was in Lord Howth's 
 stud at Melton, and went nearly as well at seven- 
 teen as when he was the subject of this dashing 
 challenge. 
 
 The great nurseries of English hunters are the 
 North and East Ridings of Yorkshire, more especially 
 on the Wolds, and the whole of Lincolnshire and 
 Shropshire. The Lincolnshire hunters are still first- 
 rate, but they are bred in fewer numbers than they 
 were in Dick Burton's hunting prime, owing princi- 
 pally to the improved system of cultivation, which has 
 caused much second-rate grass-land to be ploughed 
 up. Hence the number of brood-mares is rather 
 limited, and the farmers have to resort to Howden 
 Fair, which is the largest market in the world for un- 
 made hunters and carriage-horses. Scarcely any of 
 them are tied in rows, but they are generally ridden 
 or led about the town, whose long High-street is for 
 four or five days one surging sea of animal life. Hosts 
 of Lincolnshire farmers may be found there each 
 September, picking up four-year-old hunters, at prices 
 which once ranged from 8o/. to ioo/., but now more 
 generally from ioo/. to I2O/. The hunting dealers 
 also attend, not to buy, but to glean information about 
 promising horses ; they learn where they go to, and 
 occasionally, if they take a very strong fancy, purchase 
 a contingent interest in some of them. Their new 
 owners aim at keeping them at least a year, but 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 seldom more than two, and they frequently find them 
 a temporary stable-mate at the great Lincoln Fair 
 each April. The latter are expected to produce a 
 profit of 28 to 25 per cent, for their three months' 
 strong keep up to Horncastle, or else they hardly 
 realize their new owners' sole idea of " paying for 
 August." Dealers' payments, we may add, are obliged 
 to be prompt and good, as the farmers are not " dis- 
 count-men," although the reported prices at great fairs 
 must be read with considerable mental discount. 
 Sellers invariably state the prices they ask, not what 
 they get ; and we remember an instance where the 
 actual price for three which were bought by a hunting- 
 man, in one lot, was 38o/. below what appeared in the 
 newspaper report of the fair ! The most successful 
 private sellers of horses we know, are that sly, half 
 horse-dealing, half farmer race, who stick their hats 
 into the nape of their necks, and talk, quite simply 
 and softly, close into your face ; men, in short, who 
 are wonderfully clever fellows, but who deceive you by 
 looking like utter fools. Their great dodge is to crab 
 the good points of the horse they want to sell : 
 " Varra fine horse, but don't you think he's not varra 
 good about the sh001ders ?" was the comment we 
 heard one of them make, as he asked a rattling price 
 (on the ground that he " didn't care to part with him 
 for a bit") for an animal whose shoulders were fault- 
 less. Away went the intended purchaser to a friend, 
 who knew the horse's points better than he did the 
 owner's, and was told to buy him directly, as " the fool 
 doesn't know what a good horse he has ;" and " the 
 fool" grinned in his sleeve accordingly. Perhaps a 
 northern breeder of hunters, some twenty years since, 
 got rid of three in the neatest way to a nobleman, who 
 did not care so very much for two of them, but he had 
 set his whole heart on the third. " I always said I 
 would not sell that horse," were the words in which 
 the bargain was clenched, " and I must keep my word ; 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 229 
 
 but if you'll give me 900 guineas for the other two, I'll 
 make you a present of him. 1 ' The purchaser jumped 
 at the offer ; and although he found that the gift-horse 
 for whom he ventured so much was a roarer and all 
 but worthless, the terms of the bargain estopped him 
 from complaining publicly, however much he might 
 tell his grief in private. Mr. Mat Milton was, after all, 
 one of the greatest originals that ever closed a horse 
 bargain ; and the American poet might with justice 
 be supposed to have had him in his eye, when he 
 wrote of a regular " Down Easter" 
 
 " He'd kiss a queen till he raised a blister, 
 With his arm round her neck, and his old felt hat on ; 
 He'd address a king by the title of Mister, 
 And ask him the price of the throne that he sat on." 
 
 We have hinted at the terms of his equestrian invi- 
 tation to the Prince Regent ; but he is said to have 
 been a man of deeds and not of words only to a noble 
 lord, who returned him a horse because he considered 
 it to be a roarer. When his lordship next came to his 
 stables, the subject was renewed pretty warmly. Mat 
 ironically asked him, after making four horses grunt 
 successively by a sudden blow of the fist, if that was 
 the roaring he meant, and wound up his discourse by 
 giving him a dig below the waistcoat, and an adjura- 
 tion of " Why, you're grunting now hang it, you're a 
 roarer yourself be out of the yard with you /" which 
 caused him to fly swiftly. Mat used to prof ess to give 
 5/. to each hunting-groom, when they returned a horse 
 in good condition at the end of the season, but they 
 had sad work to " draw" him of it. 
 
 The chief buyers of carriage horses at Howden Fair 
 are the Messrs. Collins, Wimbush, Gray, East, &c., 
 and the most paying colour is a brown or a "Jersey 
 bay." This class of animal does not come there so 
 much from the county of Durham as formerly, but is 
 principally bred in the neighbourhood of Howden and 
 
230 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Holderness. The breeders of Durham horses confine 
 themselves more to Northallerton and Newcastle fairs, 
 which are also the great marts for the Cumberland 
 men. The latter, although they kept the first and 
 second blood-sire prizes against all comers, with 
 Ravenhill and British Yeoman, and made the other 
 horse-classes considerably less of a dead letter than 
 they had hitherto been, at the 1855 Royal Agricultu- 
 ral Show, breed almost solely for the carriage, and 
 hence it is next to useless to bring a chestnut horse, 
 however fine his points, in the county. When Mr. 
 Richard Fergusson, the owner of Ravenhill (who had 
 been re-christened " Royal Ravenhill," in token of his 
 triumph), introduced a coaching-sire about the year 
 1819, he was assured by his neighbours that the 
 climate was too cold either for pure short-horns or 
 anything in horse's shape, that was more than half- 
 bred ; and it was only when he sold a pair of his 
 four-year-old Candidates for 1 5 o/., which shortly after- 
 wards reached the King's stables for, as it was said at 
 the time, 3OO/., that a contrary conviction dawned on 
 them. Candidate, Bay Chilton, and Grand Turk, who 
 were all Northern Lights in their time, had very little 
 blood, but were fine sturdy specimens of a species of 
 Durham or rather Yorkshire coaching-horse, which is 
 now almost entirely superseded by thorough-breds. 
 In size they were a medium between Magog and Lord 
 Fauconberg, but decidedly the finest type of a coach- 
 horse we ever saw was a brown one by Screveton. 
 The light-boned Equator, the elegant little Royalist, 
 and the flashy-looking high-tempered Corinthian did 
 very little towards improving the breed, which was 
 principally kept up by the travels of The Earl and 
 Gregson, a remarkably fine specimen of a grey hunter- 
 sire. When his day was over, Mr. Richard Fergusson 
 kept up the grey charter by buying Grey Wiganthorpe 
 out of Yorkshire, and followed up this infusion of the 
 Comus blood into Cumberland, with successive strains 
 
Breeding of Himters. 2 3 1 
 
 of Buzzard, Muley, and Venison, through Phoenix, 
 Galaor, and Ravenhill. Lanercost was foaled in the 
 west of the county, not far from the farm-house where 
 old Velocipede died in 1850, and won his first victories 
 under Harry Edwards (who was then a Carlisle V.S.), 
 for Mr. John Ramshay, of Naworth Barns, who owned 
 his sire, Liverpool, and also bred and ran the iron- 
 legged Naworth and Mosstrooper. British Yeoman, 
 who is, to our minds, the best-looking Liverpool horse 
 left, and won the Royal Agricultural blood-prize in 
 1855, still sticks to Cumberland, where his stock are 
 so much valued that his owner lately refused 500 
 guineas from an Irish breeder for him. The hunters 
 by him, so far, have been of a capital stamp. Mr. 
 James Fawcett, of Scaleby Castle, and Mr. R. Fergus- 
 son, send several young bay coach-horses to the New- 
 castle and Yorkshire fairs ; and Mr. Charles Philips, of 
 Cracrop, in the same county, is indisputably the most 
 successful English breeder of the pure Clydesdale 
 cart-horses. One of his two-year-olds was so much 
 fancied when he arrived in Canada that he was sold 
 at 4s. 8^/. per pound, and realized upwards of 4OO/. 
 on his weight. This is "Mr. Briggs's" querist over 
 again " How much a pound if I take the whole of 
 him ?" The grey sixteen-three Merry Tom, who has 
 scaled one ton four stone, and measured 8 feet II 
 inches round, is the best Mr. Philips ever had ; he has 
 already won four medals and about 24<D/. in cash, and 
 was selected by a Scotch club for three seasons, to 
 travel in the neighbourhood of Glasgow, where the 
 rarest Clydesdale horses are to be found. 
 
 The Shropshire men are rather short of hunter- 
 sires, and are more careful, both as to pedigree and 
 style, in their hunter-breeding, than the Yorkshire- 
 men. In fact, many dealers maintain that the large 
 bodies and the little heads come out of Shropshire, 
 and the little bodies and large heads from Yorkshire. 
 The probable explanation of this is, that the York- 
 
232 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 shiremen generally direct their attention to quick 
 returns, and try to breed great slapping carriage- 
 horses, to be sold at three years old for from 8o/. to 
 I2O/., in the Howden market ; and if they cannot get 
 them big enough, they cut their tails and call them 
 hunters. An allusion to the size of the head in the 
 latter case would.no doubt induce the venerable re- 
 tort, " What's the odds ? a horse don't go on his head /" 
 Shropshire, on the contrary, determines to have a 
 hunter, and nothing but a hunter, and has bred ac- 
 cordingly, since the days of the celebrated Old Tat, 
 who combined the Highflyer and Matchem strains, 
 and made the Shropshire-bred horses especially 
 famous, about the time that Mr. Meynell gave up 
 hounds. Rugely in June is a very great fair for 
 hunters, Welsh and Shropshire, as well as troopers, 
 but the prices are not up to Horncastle ; and Stour- 
 bridge had also an immense repute, until Shrewsbury, 
 which is fixed for two weeks earlier in March, dealt it 
 a heavy blow. Rugby's horse fair, in November, in- 
 cludes all kinds, from the 3OO-guinea hunter down to 
 the ten shillings' potter's steed, in which Rugbasans 
 were wont in old times to invest, for the glory of one 
 afternoon's ride between the callings over, on condi- 
 tion that their old owners took them back at half- 
 price if they lived, or gratis if they died. 
 
 The Yarborough, South Wold, and Burton hunts 
 are the great public schools, where the heads, hands, 
 and heels of a legion of Hard-Riding Dicks are ever 
 at work for five months of the year, in transforming 
 the raw one-hundred-guinea Howdenite into the 
 finished two-hundred-guinea candidate for Horncastle. 
 It is, however, to the dealers in this as in every other 
 county that they have to look for purchasers, as hunt- 
 ing men will scarcely ever buy from farmers, however 
 well they may ride, and have to pay a handsome sum 
 extra for their whim. Horncastle fair has long been 
 the great Lincolnshire Carnival of horse-flesh, and far 
 

 TOUEI 
 
 1 THE CRY OF AJTOTKBRJACILIS HEART- IN OGKER WOOD AND BABBITRY RTNG-3 ; 
 
 LLL.LGire- AFTER. THE PRESENT CENTURY IS NUMBERED WITH 
 
 THE PAGT , A PLEASANT TRADITION WILL LINGER ROUND DORSETSHIRE 
 
 FIRESIDES, OF HOW A FORMER SQUIRE OF L AWT ON" TOOK TO HOUNDS WEEK 
 
 A MERE COLLEGE STRIPLING, AND HOW EVEN HIS FIFTY SECOND & LAST 
 
 :: FOUND HIM WITH A HEART AS YOUNG, AND A CHEER AG SHRILL 
 
 Ai 1 EVER'.' j c 
 
 Silk and. , 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 233 
 
 the largest in England for made hunters. Sporting 
 foreigners zxo. penetres with its fame, and rush to see 
 it and the sales of blood-yearlings at Doncastere, with 
 as much energy as their agriculturists demand to be 
 led to " de beetroot," the instant they set foot from 
 one of Ben Revett's chaises, on their Tiptree shrine. 
 We have it, in fact, on " Scribble's" authority, that an 
 elderly German Baron, not very long since, assured 
 his English visitor, when they had drunk to the death 
 and memory of their last wild boar, that if now he 
 could only visit Horncastle Fair, he could die happy ! 
 Dealers and foreigners begin to be rife in its neigh- 
 bourhood about the fifth of August, and there are still 
 some lingerers on the twenty-first. Baron Rothschild's 
 agent rarely comes, but purchases young horses at all 
 prices from 4<D/. to 3OO/., out of the best hunting 
 stables in Yorkshire and Lincolnshire. The Welsh- 
 men bring nothing now ; but the Irish-bred horses are 
 to be found in numbers hardly equal to the demand. 
 It takes a man some time to get accustomed to their 
 buck-fencing style (which a clever, determined rider 
 can soon modify) ; and when a novice tries, for 
 instance, to follow The Essex on one, and finds it 
 thrusting itself with its dainty heel-touch off those 
 huge banks half way across the next field, he begins 
 to fancy that he will never come to earth again. The 
 great majority of them are called thorough-bred, but 
 not exactly according to the English standard, which 
 makes them about seven-eighths bred. 
 
 The hunting humour of the present day inclines 
 very much to size, though welter weights, as a general 
 rule, get along best on apparently small but even 
 horses, rather under than over fifteen-three. The 
 great majority of hunting men, if they can possibly 
 afford it, like to ride with at least a stone in hand ; 
 and thus little horses, however clever, and up to ten 
 or eleven stone, do not find ready purchasers as of 
 yore, even among " the light division." The veteran 
 
234 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Sir Tatton Sykes has never fallen in with this notion 
 about height, and his friends always expect his plea- 
 sant " Too big, Sir ! too big !" when he looks over 
 anything much above fifteen-two. Charles XI L, in 
 his very heyday, did not please him at all, but still he 
 stuck faithfully by Sleight-of-Hand, who was much 
 above his standard. To show how tastes differ, Mr. 
 Davis, the Queen's huntsman, who was a lighter man 
 and rather taller than Sir Tatton, once assured us 
 that he had been carried equally well to his hounds 
 by horses of all heights, from fourteen-three to sixteen- 
 two ; but that from fifteen-three to sixteen-two was 
 his fancy size. Even on the subject of tails, the 
 hunting men used to take issue. In Mr. Osbaldeston's 
 day it was all the fashion at Melton to keep long tails 
 on the hunters, a practice which he held in very 
 great contempt. " Gallop on, long-tails, you'll soon 
 come back',' used to be his regular saying, if they 
 got away before him ; and " Where are the fine long- 
 tails now ?" was his sarcastic inquiry at the close of 
 many a run. 
 
 Among great horse-dealers, Messrs. Elmore, R. 
 Dyson, and Tilbury (who has had as many as 200 
 hunters for hire) once held sway, but Mr. Collins, 
 of Mount-street, Lambeth, has since become by far 
 the largest purchaser of hunters at Horncastle. The 
 Lincolnshire farmers generally get into the habit of 
 doing business with one dealer, and Mr. Collins will 
 buy about seventy from them during the Horncastle 
 month, the best of which range from i6o/. to 2OO/., 
 and occasionally higher. Many of these do not get 
 to the fair to be sold, as formerly, but are purchased 
 privately, and join the main string at a certain place 
 of rendezvous ; but scarcely half of them reach his 
 London stables, as he now has a show of them both 
 at Newark and Barnet, where purchasers and brother 
 dealers attend to cull. He always buys according to 
 what is required for the particular season ; and if the 
 
Breeding of Himters. 235 
 
 dwellers in Mount-street were to lose sight of their 
 almanacks and the swallows, they would know that 
 spring had come again by the endless supply of stout 
 cobs and park hacks which would, week after week, 
 take up their fleeting habitation among them. Mr. 
 Thomas Sell acts as London salesman for Mr. 
 Collins, who, along with his fidus Achates, James 
 Brewster, visits every great fair out of the 190 odd 
 which the trade professes to frequent, not only in the 
 midland counties and the north, but in Oxfordshire, 
 Wiltshire, and, in short, wherever he can get a wind- 
 scent of a likely horse. He is a striking instance 
 of what honesty and good judgment can do for a 
 man. We remember him, about 1840, driving his 
 roan pony to Osborne's, in Gray's Inn-lane, to 
 buy " machiners ;" and his rise since then, through 
 the successive stages of Aldridge's and Tattersall's, 
 to be the wholesale Leviathan of the trade, has 
 been wonderfully steady and rapid. The pretty 
 general belief among the initiated is, that he sells 
 upwards of eleven hundred animals in the course of 
 the year, at an average of 8o/. apiece ; and, as a type 
 of the universality of his business, we may mention 
 that, as we strolled through his stables, we espied 
 a first-class hunter almost cheek by jowl with a 
 spotted cob, who looked quite ripe for the jocular 
 society of the late Tom Barry over the way. All the 
 great London dealers purchase from him ; and their 
 French brethren, Benedick, Cremieux, Angell, &c., 
 are among his largest customers, and occasionally go 
 as high as I/O/, for a riding horse. 
 
 Mr. Joseph Anderson is also at the very top of the 
 tree, and buys largely, through an agent, of first-class 
 hunters and hacks ; he has, in fact, long been to 
 Piccadilly what Benedick is to the Champs Ely sees; 
 and his brother, Mr. John Anderson, has a very rising 
 business at Green-street, Grosvenor-square. Mr. 
 Quartermaine, who once "hailed" from Oxford, buys 
 
236 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 carnage horses as well as hunters and hacks, and gives 
 and gets, without exception, as high prices as any man 
 of the day. He cannot rest if there is a good thing in 
 the market, and has always " a particular reason for 
 wanting it directly." We seldom give a passing peep 
 down those trim corridor-sort of yards, which make 
 one feel more than anything else the high dignity of 
 the horse in England, and see those mysterious, know- 
 ing little knots of purchasers which are ever scanning 
 him there, without calling to mind how the Duke of 
 Queensberry was wont, early in the century, to test 
 the pace of his running-footman candidates, by timing 
 them from his balcony, as they ran up and down that 
 self-same pleasant dip in Piccadilly. But our note* must 
 tell the rest. Mr. S. Cox of Stamford-street buys all 
 sorts, from high-class hunters down to cart-horses, in 
 which his uncle, the late Mr. George Cox, drove a very 
 thriving trade among the brewers and distillers ; and 
 Mr. R. Phillips of Knightsbridge, assisted by his father- 
 in-law, Mr. Tawney, buys very largely in Shropshire, 
 and furnishes a great many entire horses and other 
 thorough-bred stock to the foreigners. The Emperor 
 of the French, who has been amongst his largest cus- 
 tomers, christened one of his favourite riding horses 
 '' PHILLIPS," in his honour ; and it was from his and 
 and Mr. Quartermaine's stables that the King of Sar- 
 dinia made his selection when he visited England. 
 Along with Messrs. R. Dyson and East, Mr. Phillips 
 holds the contract for the cavalry horses, nearly all of 
 
 * The running footmen drank white wine and eggs, and carried some 
 white wine in the large silver ball of their tall cane or pole, which un- 
 screwed. ***** They put on the Duke's livery before the 
 trial. On one occasion a candidate presented himself dressed, and ran. 
 At the conclusion of the performance he stood before the balcony. 
 " You'll do very well for me," said the Duke. " Your livery will do 
 very^ well for me," replied the man, and gave the Duke a last proof 
 of his ability as a runner by running away with it." Notes and 
 Queries. 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 237 
 
 which pass through their hands, and are gathered from 
 every part of the country, by the aid of upwards of 
 twenty commissioners. Messrs. Wimbush and Deacon, 
 Mr. Gray, and Mr. Joshua East (who has succeeded 
 Mr. Dickenson, and is in partnership with Mr. 
 Phillips), Mr. Withers, and Mr. Hetherington, are the 
 largest purchasers of carnage horses, though some of 
 them do so merely in their own job-master capacity, 
 and not to sell again. They supply themselves not 
 only from Mr. Collins and the other London and country 
 dealers, but attend the great fairs in Lincolnshire, 
 Yorkshire, and Northumberland. It is a nice question, 
 which probably the surveyor of taxes alone can solve, 
 whether Messrs. Wimbush and Co., or Messrs. East 
 and Co., keep the largest number of horses to let out 
 We believe that they run within three or four pairs of 
 each other, and that at times each firm has owned not 
 fewer than 1400 pairs. 
 
 The Messrs. Mason, who succeeded Mr. Elmore, 
 buy their hunters and hacks from Mr. Collins and the 
 larger dealers, and not often out of the breeders' hands. 
 Mr. Ibbs Brown or Harboro' Brown as he is popu- 
 larly termed is also in that line ; while Mr. Saunders, 
 Mr. Attwood, Mr. Greenway, Mr. Philippo, and Mr. 
 G. Waymark, &c., are what may be called general- 
 purpose men. Mr. Pearl and Mr. Sewell draw, we 
 believe, their supplies chiefly from Norfolk and Suf- 
 folk. Mr. Blackburn principally looks after black 
 entire horses, for funerals, which he imports from Dun- 
 kirk and elsewhere ; and Mr. Smith, of Whatton, 
 makes his voyages of discovery into Germany and 
 Denmark in search of cart-horses. Among the prin- 
 cipal country dealers, Mr. John Payne, of Market 
 Harborough, drove a first-class business for many 
 years ; and Discount, and a countless number of 
 Quorn and Pytcheley hunters have passed through his 
 hands. He has, in fact, been to the Leicestershire 
 side of the country what Mr. Kench has been to the 
 
238 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Warwickshire. Since his secession, Mr. John Darby, 
 of Rugby, has become one of the most eminent 
 country dealers in hunters and hacks ; and Mr. 
 Denham, late of Derby, but now of Kegworth a 
 first-rate judge, and a first-flight man to boot in his 
 twelve-stone days must not be forgotten. Mr. Ge- 
 thirig, of Orton, near Newark ; Mr. Potter of Ashby- 
 de-la-Zouche (who used to supply Sir Richard Sutton 
 with nearly all his Irish horses) ; and Mr. Stanton, of 
 Grantham, are known for hunters far and wide in the 
 midland counties ; while Mr. Barker, of Roade, near 
 Northampton, passes an immense amount of first-class 
 cart-horses, besides carriage and riding horses through 
 his hands. The Messrs. Painter, of Bicester ; Mr. T. 
 Chamberlayne, of Southampton ; Mr. R. Chapman, of 
 Cheltenham (who has had the great run in those parts 
 since Tom Smart of Cricklade died) ; and Messrs. 
 Haines, of Highworth, are also constant attendants at 
 the great fairs, and ever on the look-out for likely 
 hunters and hacks. Mr. Murray, of Manchester, gene- 
 rally takes a large string of hunters northwards from 
 Horncastle, and with Mr. George Garwood, does a 
 thriving business in hunters, hacks, and carriage 
 horses, in Manchester and Cheshire. These dealers, 
 as well as Messrs. Ainger and Bretherton, of Liver- 
 pool, buy largely of Irish horses. In Norfolk, Mr. 
 George Hill, of Scole ; Mr. Robert Beart, of Rain- 
 ham ; and Mr. Coleman, of Norwich, have the leading 
 business, which takes rather a first-class hack and not 
 a hunting turn. Mr. Charles Symonds and Mr. 
 Wheeler, of Oxford, deal exclusively in hacks and 
 hunters, but the former seldom attends any other 
 fairs than Horncastle and Lincoln, and purchases 
 elsewhere through a commissioner. He horses Jem 
 Hills and his whips during the Heythrop season, 
 and sends the horses they have ridden up to Tatter- 
 sail's each May. His stables are well known to every 
 Oxford visitor as one of the most perfect things of 
 
Breeding of Hunters* 239 
 
 the kind, and are quite as orthodox in their manage- 
 ment and appearance as the venerable Alma Mater 
 herself. 
 
 Reverting once more to the North, we cannot pass 
 over Mr. Robson, of Newcastle, and Mr. John Woffin- 
 den, of Malton, who buy extensively from breeders. 
 Like the beau monde, the turf, and the bar, the horse- 
 dealing profession has its " D'Orsay," whom it is not 
 our intention further to indicate. The Messrs. Colton, 
 of Eagle Hall and North Collingham, and Mr. Raw- 
 linson, of Brant Broughton, near Newark, are in a 
 very extensive way, and the former perhaps sell as 
 many horses as any firm in the course of the year, a 
 large proportion of which are Irish, and specially 
 imported by themselves. Mr. Nat Welton, of Bred- 
 field, in Suffolk (where Mr. N. G. Barthrupp heads 
 the poll as a breeder of cart-horses) does business 
 almost exclusively with Mr. Collins ; and, as graziers 
 and breeders of embryo Clinkers and Clashers, no 
 names rank higher in Lincolnshire than Welfitt of 
 Louth, Fowler of Kirton Grange, Greetham of Stain- 
 field Hall, the Slaters of Commeringham and North 
 Carlton, Bartholomew of Goltho, Nainby of Bar- 
 noldby, Brooks of Croxby, and Chambers of Reasby 
 Hall ; nor in Yorkshire than the Maynards of Harl- 
 sey, Hall of Scarboro', and Wood of South Dalton. 
 The three last-named graze carnage horses as well as 
 hunters. Mr. Hall is the master of the Holderness 
 Hunt, and grazes from sixty to seventy young hunters 
 and carriage horses annually in the neighbourhood of 
 Beverley. At the York show, in 1853, ne exhibited 
 twelve hunters of his own grazing, valued at 200 
 guirieas each, which were allowed, even by his critical 
 countrymen, to be perfect gems. Lord Henry Ben- 
 tinck had, exclusive of kennel hacks, about 55 horses 
 at Lincoln during the hunting season, and not a few 
 of them have an early remembrance of Mr. Hall's 
 pasture land, from which, in some instances, they 
 
240 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 have been transferred for a 4OO-guinea consideration. 
 The Leicestershire hunting men have begun to buy 
 their horses more directly out of the farmers' hands ; 
 and Burbidge of Thorpe Arnold, Sikes of Tilton, 
 Simpkin of Hoby, Wright of Burton, and John Wood 
 of Market Overton, have been of late among the 
 luckiest sellers. 
 
 The lengthy short-legged stamp of hunter, slow 
 over grass, but great over plough and strong fences, 
 is gradually becoming very rare. No horses sell so 
 well when they can be found, and their rarity may 
 in a great measure be owing to the fact that blood- 
 horses of this build are generally not successful in 
 the T.Y.C. or one-mile races which are now in vogue, 
 and are therefore cut, or sold to the foreigners very 
 early in the day. They are not quick on their legs, 
 and get quite overset if they are hurried in the first 
 half mile, though they have perpetual motion enough 
 to "bring back" the majority of horses to them over 
 a T.M.M. or a D.I. course. We have always regretted 
 that The Ban, who was quite the " Admirable Crich- 
 ton" of this type of horse, should ever have been sent 
 abroad. The muscular-loined Inheritor (who always 
 kicked fearfully in his exercise) was cast in another 
 mould, but was still a magnificent model for a hunter 
 sire. Weathergage would have suited lengthy mares 
 to a nicety ; and Peep-o'-Day-Boy, in spite of his bad 
 pasterns, was after our own heart, as he had a very 
 perfect, and not too lengthy a barrel, and presented 
 to the eye that best of all combinations, a big deep 
 horse on remarkably short legs. Ex-racers of any 
 note have very seldom earned a name across country, 
 and Mr. D. Robertson's Edgar, by Shakspeare, who 
 carried him for eighteen seasons, is one of the few 
 instances to the contrary. 
 
 Shropshire always stood high as a hunting county, 
 when Corbet, Hill, Graham, Puleston, and Mytton 
 were its scarlet kings ; but its enthusiasm has been 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 24 1 
 
 somewhat on the wane since the Hills gave up the 
 hounds. Still, though the fields are not what they 
 were, the breeders of hunters have lost none of their 
 traditional renown. By the side of the gently-flowing 
 Teme, and that pleasant Herefordshire Arcadia into 
 which it leads, and in and about the mighty Norman 
 fortress of Ludlow, the central point of view from so 
 many broad dales, and bare heathery hills, jostling 
 and crowding one another right into the heart of 
 Wales, some of the rarest hunters of the present cen- 
 tury have been reared. They have always been espe- 
 cially prized by the dealers, and generally run from 
 fifteen-two to fifteen-three. As a class they are long 
 and low, and quick striders through dirt, and so sweet 
 and clean about the head, that " he's got the Shrop- 
 shire head" is one of the most time-honoured phrases 
 of the dealers' vocabulary. They invariably improve 
 in this part as they get older, as the serum wastes, 
 and nothing but muscle is left. In his day, Mr. 
 Anderson, senior, used to be very fond of Shropshire 
 hunters as a class, and he would get down before 
 almost any of his brethren to Shrewsbury fair, invite 
 fifteen to twenty farmers to breakfast at The Raven, 
 and bring away fourteen or fifteen of their best nags. 
 The breeders to the Ludlow country owe not a little 
 to the late Mr. Lechmere Charlton, for the carefully- 
 culled sires he introduced. At one time, however, the 
 Shropshire men grew more careless about pedigree, 
 and just selected the cheapest sire that happened to 
 travel their way, or flaunted in ribbons through 
 Shrewsbury market. The usual result took place : 
 bodies grew less and less, and the beautiful heads, or 
 " bonnets," which Comus and Strephon brought into 
 the country, began to be replaced by a shapeless 
 thing " as big as a sugar warehouse." The regular 
 old Shropshire type of hunters, who pricked up their 
 ears at the challenge of the Trojans, is derived prin- 
 cipally from Black Sultan, Revenge, and Regulus, 
 
 R 
 
242 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 who flourished about 1815. Black Sultan, who was 
 the property of Mr. Hiles, a miller at Shrews- 
 bury, was far away the greatest of the three, and 
 to this day the Shropshire men vow that almost 
 every hunter with a black or chestnut skin bears 
 kindred to the old horse, just as almost every ugly- 
 headed hunter, for the fifth of a century has been 
 consistently fathered on Belzoni. An immense number 
 of his stock, after a wondrous jumping career, went 
 stone blind. The Yorkshire Comus, on the contrary 
 (who seemed to get nothing but greys and chestnuts), 
 went blind when he was rising four, and he was never 
 known, that we heard of, to get a blind one. It is 
 also a fact that a well-known second-rate blood sire 
 went blind early in the year, and, contrary to his 
 usual luck, almost every mare that was served by 
 him during that season threw a filly. 
 
 But we are not yet done with Shropshire. Planet, 
 by Dungannon, Driver, a three-parts bred, and Ro- 
 sario by Ambrosio, a rather low-tailed horse ; Mr. 
 Gore's Hesperus, Pilkington, the maternal uncle of 
 Ion, the sire of countless flashy fine goers, whom the 
 dealers loved, and the long and low Gimcrack, the 
 property, along with Planet, Rosario, Champion, 
 and Pilkington, of the Clays of Wem, who never 
 lacked a good horse, also rank among their paddock 
 worthies. Then there was Spectre, son of Phantom, 
 who came from the Ludlow district, and with the 
 then young Jemmy Chappie on his back, made very 
 short work of the Newmarket horses in the Audley 
 End. No wonder the Heath-men did not fancy him, 
 as he was a thick lumpy horse, and could not get a 
 real racer, with the exception of Sceptic, and he 
 came off Second-best so perpetually, that he was 
 generally known by that name. His stock were all 
 a thick style of horse, but not one of them are left 
 in the Ludlow hunt, or indeed anywhere else. Man- 
 fred, by Election, became Mr. Lechmere Charlton's 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 243 
 
 property about the time he bought Sam, who tailed 
 at the stud as much as he did in his racing career 
 after the Derby, and, with the exception of rather 
 twisted forelegs, a defect which was especially ob- 
 servable in Mr. Lindow's great Melton hunter The 
 Clipper (who always went to cover in boots, and led 
 by a man on a pony), a more gentlemanly blood-like 
 style of horse has been rarely seen, and his stock, al- 
 though not big, preserved all his quality. Brigliadoro 
 was also from the Ludlow side ; and Mr. Anderson, 
 senior, as well as George Underhill, had always a great 
 notion of his slashing but short-legged hunters. It is 
 on record of these two admirable judges of horseflesh, 
 that they agreed to price seventeen which the latter 
 had in his sale stables, and when they compared their 
 estimates, Mr. Anderson's was actually the largest by 
 I5/., and he accordingly took to the horses in a lot. 
 This story is perfectly authentic, and has scarcely a 
 paralled in horse-dealing annals. " Old George's " 
 especial fancy, however, was his own Strephon, by 
 Reubens, and at one time this horse, who was bought 
 in the evening of his days by Lore! Hill, Champion 
 by Selim, and Mr. Wheeler's Snowdon, who latterly 
 became quite white, were the great county rivals. 
 Strephon's fame has lasted the longest, and the hunt- 
 ing-men still swear by his name, when the sprig-tailed, 
 light-quartered, and thin-thighed Snowdonites are 
 almost forgotten. The latter were always overrated, 
 and the best of them, to our mind, were a grey mare 
 of Colonel Biddulph's, and a grey horse, whose flying 
 jumps became so noted, that a hard-riding divine 
 christened him " Jumping Jack." Mr. Joseph Clay, 
 of Sutton, rode him in the front rank with the Shrop- 
 shire for two seasons ; and he was latterly in Mr. 
 Smith Owen's hands when he divided the country 
 with Lord Hill ; and gained the reputation of being 
 the best horse in the stud, by the style in which, de- 
 spite of his lack of speed and not very sound legs, he 
 
 R 2 
 
244 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 carried the huntsman to the last. The Strephons 
 were generally thick, stout-hearted, weight-carrying 
 nags, with magnificent backs and shoulders, first-rate 
 in the field, but vile as hackneys, always knocking their 
 toes against the ground, and inheriting a beautiful 
 head, the outline of which may still be traced at many 
 a cover side. Stapleton, a contemporary of Pilking- 
 ton, was one of his principal sons, and stood at Fryatt's 
 of Melton for a time. The Champions were of a 
 bigger stamp altogether, and with legs like waggon- 
 horses, but they were rather loosely built, and seemed 
 as if they had just one joint too many in their backs. 
 In his hind-quarters their sire somewhat resembled 
 Camel, though his tail was not hung so low ; his face 
 bore a huge white blaze, and his character in the coun- 
 try was to the effect that he was " a very determined 
 devil." The county and the kennel stables were full 
 of Jupiters, when Sir Bellingham Graham gave up 
 Shropshire, and the triad of masters succeeded. 
 This sire was the Belzoni of Shropshire, as his stock 
 were great sprawling, high-tempered horses to begin 
 with, and never at perfection till they were rising 
 eight or nine. Lord Stamford bred him, and Will 
 Staples, who had Jack Wiglesworth and Tom Flint 
 (who died with the Duke of Cleveland), as his 
 whips, adored him like a heathen of old. Poor 
 Tom used occasionally to go like his old Shrop- 
 shire self in Durham, and a more perfect horseman 
 never rode at a fence. Originally he was articled 
 to Page the trainer of Epsom, and had such a little 
 notion of his business when he began, that he acceded 
 to the other lads' proposition to wax him on to his 
 saddle. When Tom's after feats reached him, Page 
 used often to tell the story, how he stuck so tight that 
 he was obliged to lift him and the saddle off the colt 
 together, and then cut him clean out of his corduroys 
 and his difficulties. Among more modern Shropshire 
 horses, we may note The Steamer, by Emilius, out of 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 245 
 
 Valve (the dam of Pussy), who was bred and sold by 
 Mr. Price, of Bryn-Pys, for 5<D/. His racing career 
 was foiled by his bad legs, which gave way to 
 such an extent that he could hardly bear walk- 
 ing exercise, and he was too strong a puller to let a 
 light boy ride him. There are an immense quantity 
 of good hunters out by him, though they are generally 
 a little in at the elbows ; and Hyllus, a hack of his 
 get, was snapped up at a high, price for the Royal 
 stables. All of them are jumpers, but they are not 
 exactly what are styled " dealers* horses." Necro- 
 mancer has done something for the present and old 
 owner's name ; and breeders tell you that the 
 thorough-bred Melibceus never failed to get a hunter, 
 and are all on the alert when they hear of a Melibceus 
 mare. The Greathearts are also especially fine goers, 
 and very fair jumpers, neat, fifteen-three, and in fact 
 quite " the good old style back again ; " but their sire 
 has departed for Ireland. Ion, who is a very popular 
 blood sire in France, stood one season at Shrews- 
 bury ; but he is rather a lightrgirthcd unattractive 
 style of horse, and had very few mares. 
 
 Will Staples, of whom it used to be said, and with 
 little exaggeration, that he could hunt a Shropshire 
 fox without hounds, looks back to the grey Moses as 
 the best Strephon he ever rode, while Ludlow among 
 the Brigliadoroes, Longwaist and Gazelle among the 
 Jupiters, Melibceus by Melibceus, and Plynlimmon by 
 The Colonel, are still among the other pleasant me- 
 mories of his great hunting career. If we mistake not, 
 Mr. Mytton's The Duchess was a prima donna among 
 the scions of Hit-and-miss, who was, like Herbert 
 Lacy, quite a Shropshire worthy ; and Fitzjames, 
 whose stock were all bad-tempered, never got a 
 superior to the " Squire of Halston's " Armchair. Mr. 
 H. Clive of Styche's Annette was also a gay feather 
 in Strephon's cap, when it was no easy task for a man 
 to hold his own with Will and his cover-side cavalry. 
 
246 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Well may we hear the horses, and the men who rode 
 them, and raced them towards The Wrekin as their 
 gigantic winning-chair, still household words among 
 the " proud Salopians " ! Those were the days when 
 Lord Hill " on Paddy of Paddies the wonder" ; John 
 Arthur Lloyd on Grenadier ; Smith Owen on Lop, or 
 " Banker so honest a trader, he pays draughts at sight 
 without any persuader " ; Lyster, " King of light 
 weights, on The Doe ; " and countless others who live 
 in the ballad, were all in the foremost flight ; and when 
 " The Curate rough-riding the Rector was seen," or 
 else " with his coat buttoned up, and his tongue very 
 still," earned the poet's praise as 
 
 "First in the field and dashing away, 
 Taking all in his stroke on Gehazi the grey." 
 
 Smoker, whose stock have often rather coarse heads 
 and not the best of hocks, belongs to Montgomery- 
 shire, where breeding has been rather flashy than 
 sound for some time past. Its horses were but little 
 tested at home, as their fine look attracted the dealers, 
 who pounced on them and made " swimmers" of them 
 forthwith ; and several of those that did stay on this 
 side the Channel had their weak places found out. 
 A well-informed writer in the Sporting Review* states 
 the case much more favourably for the breeders ot 
 South Wales, or rather its three more western coun- 
 ties, which support five regular packs of fox hounds. 
 He considers that the best stamp of a Welsh hunter 
 is a well-bred compact horse, not exceeding fifteen- 
 two in height ; he must be very handy and clever at 
 on-and-off work, a good one up hill and through 
 dirt : a fast horse is always an advantage, but a per- 
 fect fencer is of more importance in this rough hilly 
 country, as there are too many days on which a Welsh 
 fox-hunter is employed in riding through interminable 
 
 * January, 1857. 
 
Breeding of Hunters* 247 
 
 woods, and up and down break-neck dingles. Many 
 of the horses in the V. H. C. country, old-fashioned 
 hunters with rare loins and back ribs, have a power 
 of creeping which absolutely borders on the mira- 
 culous. The Castlemartain country, which until 1855 
 was hunted by the South Pembrokeshire, and holds 
 as good a scent as any in England, is the principal 
 breeding district for hunters ; and the " sporting 
 Castlemartain yeomen" (as they delight to be called) 
 keep at least one three-parts-bred brood mare, which 
 is generally put to a thorough-bred horse. The young- 
 sters are mostly kept till five years old, by which 
 time they are usually perfect fencers, and find a ready 
 sale for the English market, at prices varying from 
 go/, to I5<D/. ; and the principal buyers are Messrs. 
 James and Jacob of Cheltenham, and Harvey of 
 Manchester. For some years back the leading sires 
 have been Pilkington, Uncle Toby, Ascot, Mango, 
 Ballinkeele, Gaper, St. Bennett, Firman, Benedict, 
 and Sultan ; and, subsequently, Pharaoh, Cheops, 
 Langton, and Shannon (h. b.) have joined their 
 ranks. Ascot, Mango, and Ballinkeele have perhaps 
 got the best hunters, and Gaper's stock are usually 
 very good fencers, but their forelegs are sadly de- 
 ficient. 
 
 The most fashionable hunting sires in Ireland 
 (1825-1855) have been Old Welcome, Bob Booty, 
 Tiger, Sir Hercules, Birdcatcher (Old), Smallhopes, 
 Windfall, Freney, King Arthur, Navarino, Black- 
 foot, Whitenose, Philip the First, Cock of the Heath, 
 Colwick, Seahorse, Lottery, Bobbygore, and Roller ; 
 while the stock of Brown Molton, Vulcan, The 
 Great Western, King of Kelton, Mayboy, Tear- 
 away, Large Hopes, Shawnboy, Sir Richard, Young 
 Windfall, Tom Steel, Arthur, &c., were in great 
 vogue. The Irish have now quite recovered the 
 check which was given to hunter-breeding by the 
 famine, and we believe that an almost unprecedented 
 
248 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 number of mares were sent to the horse in 1855. 
 Their most valuable mares for this purpose are more 
 than three-parts bred, roomy, deep-shouldered, and 
 with good heads and crests ; and the characteristics 
 of their best stock, are small intelligent heads, with 
 the eye almost standing out of it ; short lean necks, 
 great depth of shoulder, fore legs well put on and all 
 sinew, wide back, with large hips, quarters rather 
 drooping, and great length from the hip to the hock, 
 which gives them their splendid propelling power at 
 fences. The average height of the best is fifteen- 
 three, and they are well up to fourteen stone. They 
 have always that peculiar slope of the croup nearly 
 at the same angle as the gaskins, which invariably 
 marks a horse as clever across country. In fact, as a 
 general thing, horses short and straight in the croup 
 seldom manage to drop fence handily, or have good 
 action with their hind legs, whatever they may have 
 with their fore ones. The young hunters are sent to 
 the Irish fairs, principally between the ages of six and 
 eight, but the best, as in England, are bought from 
 the breeder long before they reach a fair. They are 
 principally bred in Westmeath, Meath, Longford, 
 Kildare, Roscommon, Wicklow, and Wexford ; and 
 among the largest breeders we may mention Mr. 
 Richard Reynell, of Kelynin ; Mr. A. Cook, of Cooks- 
 borough ; Mr. H. Morrow, of Longford ; Mr. M. A. 
 Feuile, of Sonna ; Mr. W. Ryan, of Edgeworths- 
 town ; Mr. J. Weir, of Tullaghan ; Mr. Duke, of 
 Sligo ; Mr. Pollock, of Meath ; and Mr. J. Connelly, 
 of Celbridge. The largest fairs for hunters are Bal 
 linasloe, on the 6th, ;th, and 8th of October; the 
 Great Munster Fairs, which are held at Limerick in 
 April and October ; and the Cahiramee Fair, on the 
 nth and I2th of July. Young horses and colts are 
 principally shown at Mullingar, where three out of 
 the four fairs (April 6th, July 4th, and August 22nd) 
 are entirely devoted to them ; whereas that on Nov. 
 
Breeding of Himters. 249 
 
 nth, is more especially for made hunters. To these 
 we may add Spancelhill (June 24th), Ballintubber 
 (August 25th), Boyle (July 25th), and Hospital 
 (July Qth), where nothing but quite youngsters are 
 shown. 
 
 These aspirants are put into a jumping tutor's hands 
 at two years old, and first taught to leap by being 
 driven over all sorts of fences for three or four weeks. 
 They are often fitted with a snaffle and surcingle during 
 these gymnastics, and one man leads while another 
 follows them with a whip over these fences, which 
 consist principally of high rotten banks ; and the 
 result of the system is, that they cannot pitch on their 
 heads, but learn to drop lightly on their haunches. 
 Having been thus initiated, the future hunter is turned 
 out till he is four years old. All his by no meaijs for- 
 gotten lessons are then renewed ; a boy is put on to 
 his back, and when he has been made perfectly handy 
 and quiet, he sees hounds at intervals, and in the ful- 
 ness of time is shipped off with his fellows to Eng- 
 land. During the summer months Irish bred animals, 
 in very ragged condition, and of all heights, from ten 
 to sixteen hands, are to be found in the Leicester 
 market ; and it was here that Mr. Pratt, of Shankton, 
 picked up Shankton for I2/. icxr. at three years old. 
 On the whole the Irish breed of hunters was never 
 better than it is at present; and to judge from the 
 number of good sires which have gone over, they are 
 not likely to degenerate. Among English dealers, 
 the Messrs. Colton of Eagle Hall and Newark, are 
 very large purchasers. They import on the average 
 about five hundred hunters, trained and untrained, 
 every year, at all prices, from 5O/. to 3<DO/. and keep 
 two agents (Wilmott and Nugent), one of whom lives 
 at Mullingar, always on the look-out for them. Mr. 
 Potter, of Ashby-de-la-Zouche, also buys very largely, 
 and at stiff prices ; and the same remark applies to 
 Mr. John Darby of Rugby ; Mr. Murray of Man- 
 
250 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Chester; and Mr. Hall of Sedgefield, Durham, who, 
 however, directs his attention more especially to 
 harness and young horses. The principal " colt- 
 buyers," as they are termed, are Mr. Parish, of 
 Birmingham, (who will buy as many as 150 in a year); 
 Mr. J. Hall, of Derby ; and Mr. P. Shields, of Dublin; 
 who bring great numbers of juveniles across the 
 channel, at all figures from 5/. to 5o/. 
 
 Perhaps the most remarkable Irish hunter of the 
 present century was Mr. Assheton Smith's Fire King 
 a sixteen-hand, very large-limbed, light-fleshed, and 
 deep-girthed thorough-bred chestnut. He was bought 
 by Mr. William Denham, of Kegworth, from Mr. 
 Robert Lucas, of Liverpool, in the January of 1840, 
 for 25/. only, and was just as unmanageable a savage 
 as ever wore a bridle. However Mr. Denham 
 contrived to beat all Derbyshire on him, both with 
 foxhounds and Lord Chesterfield's staghounds ; Will 
 Derry, the huntsman, who was riding one of his 
 lordship's thorough-bred 3<DO-guinea chestnuts, frankly 
 acknowledging on one occasion that he could not 
 live with him any part of the run. He also distin- 
 guished himself in Leicestershire in two runs ; one 
 from Cream, and the other from Sir Harry Goodricke's 
 Gorse. On the day after the latter, Mr. Assheton 
 Smith rode up to Mr. Denham, at Croxton Park 
 races, and made him an offer of 2OO/. for him, which 
 Mr. Denham declined unless he would make it 
 guineas. On this Mr. Smith jocularly remarked that 
 he was "the most independent horsedealer he had 
 ever met with ;" and was told that if he had been 
 independent he would not have taken 2000 guineas 
 for the horse, as he was sure that no man could ex- 
 pect to have more than one such in his life. He was 
 very much blemished at the time by curbs ; so much 
 so, in fact, that Mr. Smith could hardly credit the 
 assurance that he was sound after having " been re- 
 paired so often." At this juncture Lord Chesterfield 
 
Breeding of Himters. 251 
 
 rode up, and on hearing his lordship endorse Mr. Den- 
 ham's statement that he had never in his life seen a 
 horse that could go better, if so well, to hounds, the 
 bargain was then and there closed for guineas. At 
 first they had rather a weary time with him at Tid- 
 worth. Mr. Smith sent him home on hunting days 
 seven or eight times before he could ride him with 
 confidence ; and there is a legend that he not only 
 ran clean away for miles with George Carter, but the 
 latter assured his master, when he proposed another 
 mount, that he would rather run on foot than get on 
 him. His master, however, charmed the chestnut into 
 a softer mood at last, and on December I5th of the 
 following year, he wrote Mr. Denham to say that he 
 had "got him to go as quiet as any horse in my 
 stable ;" adding, " I have hunted a great number of 
 years, I have kept hounds and hunted them for thirty- 
 eight years, and I am quite sure I never had such a 
 horse as he is before, and fully believe I never saw 
 such a one." In reply to his further request, that Mr. 
 Denham would trace his pedigree, the later could only 
 reply, " All that I know is that he came from Ireland, 
 rejoicing in the name of The Devil, having run away 
 with nearly all the people that had ridden him, and 
 he gave me several wet jackets before I could manage 
 him." The Widow, a fine sixteen-hand brown mare, 
 was also a great wonder among Irish mares ; and it 
 was no ordinary sight to see her carry Mr. John 
 Massey Stanley, who must have ridden full seventeen 
 stone, in the front rank over the stiffest part of 
 Cheshire, for five-and-thirty minutes, till she was 
 absolutely beaten to a standstill by the size of the 
 fences and the weight and stick-at-nothing style of 
 her rider. 
 
 At the time (1811) that Will Danby, since of the 
 Hurworth, who " has hunted every corner of York- 
 shire, from Spurn Point to Westmoreland, and from 
 the German Ocean to Derbyshire," during his long 
 
? 5 2 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 and honourable career, first sported his boots and 
 spurs under the late Duke of Leeds, his lordship's 
 stud principally consisted of the stock of Pandolpho. 
 This horse was the sire of Mowbray, and a long series 
 of some of the very best hunters that the Yorkshire- 
 men ever crossed. When Will joined his Grace there 
 were no less than fourteen hunters by him in the 
 Duke's stables, all equally good, and up to heavy 
 weights in the longest day. They were Pan, Pande- 
 mic, Panada, Panadian, Panegyric, Pandora, Pan- 
 dolpha, Pancake, Jenny, Jacky, Mitchell, Dolly 
 Mitchell, Young Mary, and another. It was on Pan- 
 dora that Will finished almost alone on that complete 
 Billesden Coplow day, when they found a fox at 
 Howe Bank, and ran him out of Wensleydale into 
 Swaledale, and killed him at Craik pot, after a burster 
 of three hours ; while the great Applegarth Scaur day, 
 when they found above Richmond and went right 
 away into Westmoreland, fell to Young Mary's lot. 
 Pandolpho's stock were well represented in all the 
 Yorkshire hunts, and the fourteen fetched very long 
 prices when the Duke went abroad. Among other 
 hunting sires in Yorkshire during the present century, 
 Screveton by Highflyer, is entitled to a very high 
 place, and the blood of his half-brother, Sir Peter 
 Teazle, has been as well known in the field as on the 
 turf, and most especially through the Sir Harry Dims- 
 dales. The stock of the latter (who was named after 
 the mock Mayor of Garrett) were much prized in 
 Leicestershire, and their peculiar characteristics of a 
 beautiful dapple-grey, broad backs, pointed Arab-like 
 heads, and orange-shaped quarters, are still to be 
 traced to the third generation. Some would have it 
 that he was a bit of a roarer ; but at all events Mr. 
 Maxse rode 15 stone on him over Leicestershire 
 for some seasons, and Dick Christian had but little 
 fault to find with him. We once looked carefully 
 over a large field, and could find nothing of the 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 253 
 
 hunting stamp of an almost superannuated son of Old 
 President, whose stock, with their fine brown skins 
 and still finer tempers, have jumped magnificently 
 time out of mind. As regards the second point, we 
 could almost say of them as Captain Barclay used to 
 say of his friend Cribb " That's the beauty of Tom 
 you can't make him cross hit him where and how 
 you like you'll never meddle with his temper." Ca- 
 millus, who first spread the stud fame of Hamble- 
 tonian, was also the sire of some rare talent in this 
 line, and so were Old Woldsman, Grog, and the re- 
 nowned Tramp, who was not a big but a very even 
 horse. His stock had remarkably fine hunting action, 
 and we have often heard Will Danby recount how his 
 favourite son of Tramp carried him twenty miles to 
 cover one day, when he whipped-in to the Holderness; 
 went through a very fast thing of fifty minutes and 
 home again ; heard the whaw-hoop in two runs, one 
 of them of forty and the other of an hour and fifteen 
 minutes next day, and eighteen miles home to kennel 
 at night ; and then ask, like a true-born tyke Can 
 any of your South Country horses beat that ? In fact, 
 he thought this horse better than even his President 
 mare of four hours and twenty minutes' memory in 
 the York hunt. 
 
 Orvile, Grey Orvile, Grey Walton, Sandbeck, 
 Emilian, Young Phantom, Cervantes, and Cerberus, 
 have all sent wiry representatives of their name from 
 Yorkshire to Horncastle ; and Lincolnshire has not 
 been behindhand with Quicksilver, Hippomenes, Pil- 
 grim, Negociator, Robin Hood, Darnley, Bellerophon, 
 and Mandeville. Don Juan, with his strong but some- 
 what inelegant stock, must not be forgotten ; nor 
 Orion, the sire of countless browns with especially 
 broad backs and plain tan-muzzle heads. Catterick, 
 in spite of his bad colour, has also a claim to be re- 
 membered ; and Fernhill and Humphrey are now the 
 Lincolnshire representatives of the stout Venison and 
 
254 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Sandbeck blood. The Pelhams were always noted 
 for their breed of horses, and there are but few Eng- 
 lish horses that have not some distant tinge in their 
 veins of the Bay Barb and Brocklesby Betty. The foun- 
 dation of their more modern stable-blood was laid about 
 the beginning of the present century, when the first 
 Lord Yarborough bought a Sir Peter mare (sister to 
 Hermione)from Lord Grosvenor. He also regularly sent 
 his mares to Earl Fitzwilliam's and Earl Egremont's 
 crack horse, and a Driver filly did great things for 
 the Brocklesby Hunt stables. Its sire was the original 
 old Driver (the " old, old hat," in fact, of Lord Pal- 
 merston's Tiverton speech), and was kept by Lord 
 Egremont on his own property between York and 
 Beverley. The first noted sire Lord Yarborough pur- 
 chased was the chestnut Quicksilver, a rather small 
 horse, remarkably blood-looking about the head, and 
 with abundance of quality. His stock, to which he 
 communicated great character, were nearly all chest- 
 nuts, and there was no mistaking their duck noses, 
 wide nostrils, and glove-like skin. No horses were so 
 good to know. " Quicksilver for a quart" the very 
 labourer would say to his fellow, as he plodded along 
 the road, and espied a young chestnut dancing and 
 throwing up his heels in the harrows, and the guess 
 rarely failed. The county was at one time as full of 
 his stock as it was rather later on of Sir Malagigi's, 
 which had, one and all, very dubious tempers. This 
 own brother to Sir Marinel was a loose-built style of 
 horse, and it was difficult to say why the Lincolnshire 
 men took such a fancy to him for two or three sea- 
 sons. His owner was wont to boast that the proceeds 
 of one of them was 400 guineas in two-guinea fees, 
 and that he carried every stiver of the money home 
 with him when he took the horse back 'across the 
 Humber to his winter quarters in Holderness ! It 
 was from a Brocklesby draft filly by him that Mr. 
 John Richardson, of Horkstow, near Barton, bred 
 
Breeding of Himters. 255 
 
 Peter Simple, and at one or two Horncastle fairs his 
 stock showed in such force, that he was unanimously 
 pronounced quite the premier among sires. 
 
 Nailer was the best Quicksilver that rare huntsman, 
 the late Will Smith ever rode. He was a good-look- 
 ing chestnut, and in spite of his family failing, gentle 
 in Will's hands, though sadly violent with every one 
 else. Even under Will, he always feinted to pull, and 
 went with his head turned almost to his rider's toe ; 
 but he made himself an old horse long before his 
 time, by his intemperate style in the field ; flying small 
 drains as if they were six-barred gates, in the most 
 unorthodox or rather un-Holderness style. The 
 blood was much liked by the Woldsmen ; and the 
 Prince of Wales, through Mat Milton, gave Mr. 
 Richard Nainby of Barnoldby (whose eldest son 
 Charles has no superior in the Brocklesby hunting 
 field) 400 guineas for a bay gelding by him, which was 
 bred by Mr. Phillipson, of Bradley. Sir Harry, who 
 was by Spartacus, and bred by the first Lord Yar- 
 borough, was after all Will's crack horse deep-bodied 
 and short, with wonderful elastic action, and as wild- 
 looking as an untamed Arab. 
 
 The late Mr. Richardson, of Limber, had, however, 
 the honour of breeding Ploughboy by Hippomenes, 
 and seeing Will (who was in his glory with Will Mason 
 and Bob Caunt as his whips) on him for some eight 
 seasons. Few horses combined so much blood with 
 such stout legs ; his eye was also quite a curiosity, 
 from its power and prominence ; but his peculiarity 
 was his short-sightedness, and owing to this failing, it 
 was not three times in a season that he would take 
 anything at a fly. Will used to say of him that he 
 feared no fence if he could only pull him up and take 
 it standing ; but the old bay was fated to die in other 
 hands. That noted Lincolnshire sportsman, Tom 
 Brooks, of Croxby, had often wished to ride a run 
 on him, but never did so till one day, when, as Will 
 
256 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 was going away with his fox from Bradley Wood, he 
 suddenly hailed him, and said he had a pain in his 
 back, and Ploughboy was pulling him, adding " You 
 had best take your ride now, Tom ; old Ploughboy 
 will never hunt another season." Will's words were 
 only too prophetic. They had gone seven miles, best 
 pace, and Ploughboy was striding away across Healing 
 Field (so called from a small mineral spring in the 
 lordship), with his head down, after having just 
 jumped a stiff ox-post and rails, when he put his foot 
 in a little grip, fell on his chin, dislocated his neck, 
 and turned tail over head as dead as a stone. His 
 rider was standing over him as Will galloped past. 
 " Not hurt, Tom, I hope. Well, it's an honourable death 
 for old Ploughboy to die'' And on he went with his 
 hounds, and killed his fox in Lord Yarborough's 
 private room at Brocklesby. It seemed as if " the red 
 rogue" had just struggled so far to tell his lordship 
 that his race was avenged on Ploughboy at last ; and 
 a knife, mounted with his pad, a present from Will, 
 and bearing date April 6th, 1829, still does duty at 
 Croxby. Incredible as it may seem, almost every 
 muscle in Ploughboy's legs was found to be filled with 
 thorn-pricks, and yet he had scarcely ever gone lame. 
 But sixteen years more, and Will's own voice (which, 
 like three generations of Smiths before him, had so 
 often rung out a death knell) was hushed for ever, 
 while he was still in his prime. Some of the elder 
 branch lie at Nettleton, and Will, " aged 56," is now 
 the latest tenant of that grey row of flat-stone graves 
 in which the rest, fathers and sons, huntsmen and 
 whippers-in, are garnered side by side near the chancel 
 door at Brocklesby. On that sad day he was riding a 
 shifty Waverley horse, and owing to a high thick 
 hedge, was unable to get to his hounds, as they had 
 some cold hunting up the ascent from Bradley Wood, 
 towards Barnoldby Church. " Holloa, my lad! holloa!" 
 he shouted to a lad in the distance, who had just 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 257 
 
 viewed the fox as he skirted the village, and his 
 " Yoick Ranter, boy /" as his favourite hound hit it off 
 up the hedge-side, still seems to sound in the ears of 
 the few who were up and heard it. It was the last 
 cheer he ever gave to hound, and it seemed strange 
 that the sad honour should fall on one of the blood 
 which has been the special pride and stay of the 
 Brocklesby pack. Over a small hedge, and into a plot 
 of garden ground he went ; but the leap out of it, a 
 rotten hedge with a ditch on the near side of it, was 
 to be his last. Will scarcely knew it was there, as he 
 kept his eye on the hounds who flew to Ranter in the 
 corner of the next field ; his horse caught its leg in a 
 binder, and was drawn back so suddenly in its drop, 
 that he fell over on his head. He turned a complete 
 somersault, and lay on his back with his arms and 
 legs extended and powerless ; and when he was picked 
 up, perfectly black in the face, it was found that dis- 
 location of the vertebrae had brought on paralysis in 
 every limb. For nearly five days he lived a complete 
 death in life, with his mind and his voice as clear 
 as ever, and waiting calmly for his end. His fall 
 occurred just beneath the shade of Barnoldby 
 Church, in a field belonging to Mr. Nainby, at 
 whose house he died ; and we believe that a small 
 granite obelisk, planted round with evergreens has 
 been erected to mark the spot. The lapse of 
 years has not quenched the fondness with which 
 every Brocklesby man still clings to his me- 
 mory. Three more keen and steady sportsmen 
 than " Old Will," Charles Uppleby, of Barrow, and 
 Philip Skipworth, of Aylesby, never went to their 
 rest. 
 
 A Devi-sing mare, whose Eclipse sire was imported 
 into Lincolnshire from the royal stud by the late Lord 
 Yarborough, had also the honour of throwing to Pil- 
 grim that mare of Mr. Frank Iles's which won the first 
 steeple-chase (April, 1820) ever run in Lincolnshire. 
 
 S 
 
258 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Field Nicholson had just returned from his first season 
 at Melton (where he afterwards shone so brightly as a 
 steeple-chase rider, on Magic, Plunder, &c.), flushed 
 with triumph at having won a small match there on a 
 fourteen-hand pony, and bringing with him a mare 
 which he fancied fit to beat all the Brocklesby Hunt. 
 Tom Brooks, of Croxby, had been a rival of his in 
 riding, from their very boyhood ; they had sat on the 
 same school bench, thinking doubtless more of foxes 
 than fractions, and then taken their fences, stroke for 
 stroke, for some years before Field graduated in 
 Leicestershire, whither Tom followed him for a season. 
 Field's boasting was not to be borne, and accordingly 
 Tom told him that his animal, who was a magnificent 
 jumper, but slow, was " a nice bagman's mare," and 
 followed up this home-thrust by offering to run him 
 ten miles within a month for 50 guineas a side for the 
 honour of the old county, each to carry fourteen 
 stone. From Thoresby Mill to Aylesby steeple, with 
 some seventy or eighty fences in it, was the line 
 chosen. Every man, woman, and child that could 
 walk, ride, or drive, lined the ten miles, and it seemed 
 as if all the horsemen of Lincolnshire were drawn up 
 in array at Barton Street. The pair went the first 
 half mile together, and then parted. At Ashby and 
 Brigsley, Brooks was in difficulties, as his mare three 
 times refused a water-course with post and rails. All 
 seemed lost, but at the nick of time Nicholson ap- 
 peared over a fence. "Why, Field, you're just the 
 man I want !" roared Tom ; " give me a lead over." 
 " I'll show you the way to jump, my boy," was the 
 jaunty reply ; and Tom's mare followed him like a 
 bird. They met no more in the race, as Field went 
 below Barnoldby and got too far out of his line ; while 
 Tom kept the high ground on the other side of the 
 village, and reached the steeple, out of which those two 
 ancient elderberry bushes still persevere in growing like 
 a couple of ears, in the very teeth of archdeacon and 
 
Breeding of Hu ntcrs. 259 
 
 churchward ens, as clever a winner as his fondest backers 
 could wish. 
 
 But we must bid good-bye to Brocklesby and all its 
 hunting glories, and wend our steps to the little hunt- 
 ing metropolis of Leicestershire. It was here that 
 Cannon Ball made himself a name, and season after 
 season proved the sire of a very gentlemanly class of 
 brown and chestnut horses, which ran from fifteen-two 
 to fifteen-three, and inherited almost universally his 
 white face, round barrel, and short legs. He was 
 himself a beautifully rich brown, with a white blaze 
 and three white legs, but his stock had all rather up- 
 right shoulders, and his success was not proportionate 
 to the immense amount of superior mares that were 
 sent to him. Umbriel bears some strong general re- 
 semblance to him, as we remember an ex-jockey 
 coming up to him as he took his last parade round the 
 paddock, before the Derby, and apostrophizing Tem- 
 pleman with " Why, Sim ! there's old Cannon Ball 
 back again !" We think it was a young Cannon Ball 
 which took Sir Tatton's fancy so much in one of his 
 Leicestershire journeys, that he purchased him, and 
 for fear of accidents, led him all the way back from 
 Loughborough to Sledmere himself, and was hailed 
 by Lord Althorp from his post-chaise on the road. 
 Even in Sir Tatton's early days (when he thought 
 nothing of riding to London to.be measured for a new 
 coat, and walking eight miles before breakfast simply 
 to see his horse fed), he was always wont to walk by 
 the side of his hunter the greatest part of the way to 
 cover, and he still preserved his old practice, even at 
 eighty-five, twice a year, when he set off at four 
 o'clock in the morning with his young horses to and 
 from the marshes. Yorkshiremen still proudly avow 
 that in handling young horses and hedging tools he 
 had no rival, let alone his quiet Quaker-like readiness 
 and terseness of retort, on such as ventured to take a 
 liberty. How quiet his reproof to a young blood, 
 
 S 2 
 
260 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 who " thought" the hounds were not so near, when he 
 jumped almost into the middle of them " Now you 
 know, sir, you never thought at all." This horse- 
 leading trait reminds us of one in the late Sir Charles 
 Bunbury, who trained his horses in private almost en- 
 tirely under his own eye, and fearing lest they might 
 be nervous in public, frequently made the lads (who 
 were never allowed to use spurs or anything but a 
 small stick to them), wear his colours when they 
 cleaned them. The Suffolk baronet latterly would 
 never have his horses sweated or tried on a Good 
 Friday, as during a trial on one of these anniversaries, 
 both his horses fell and broke their backs, and each 
 of the jockeys got a fractured thigh. 
 
 Vivalda got big bad-mouthed stock, but as stout as 
 the day was long, and Knight of the Whistle bid fair 
 to tread in Cannon Ball's footsteps in Leicestershire, 
 up to 1855, when the Irishmen purchased him. 
 The Knight's stock are principally roan chestnuts, 
 white-legged and white-faced, like himself; and we 
 doubt whether he ever got a bad hunter, although the 
 whole of them are a little short in the back ribs. De- 
 spite this defect, they are rapidly becoming favourites 
 with the Melton men ; and one of them, Mr. Anger- 
 stein's The Rapid Roan, beat off everything in a very 
 fast thirty-five minutes from Stanford Gorse, with a 
 second fox, late on a March afternoon in 1855. We 
 should fancy this horse pretty nearly if not the 
 premier of the Knight's stock so far, and although he 
 is about sixteen and a half hands, he was out of a 
 low, white-legged, black, pony sort of mare, which 
 ran in a carrier's cart, after acting for six years as 
 hack to an eighteen-stone surgeon. There seems to 
 be a special luck attending surgeons' hacks both on 
 the turf and at the coverside. Lancet, who was bought 
 not for 501 guineas but 620 guineas, from Mr. John 
 Nethercoat by Mr. Cooke over the Pytcheley Club 
 dinner table, was, as we have seen, originally one, and 
 
Breeding of Him ters. 2 6 1 
 
 so was the mean crooked-ankled dam of Castrel, 
 Reubens, and Selim (all by Buzzard), whose New- 
 market owner, Mr. Sandiver, would often ride her for 
 a bye hour on to the Heath, which was to be trodden 
 by such countless winning descendants, on his way to 
 see patients on the race afternoons. 
 
 The Cure, rogue as he ran in the SL Leger, was a 
 great favourite in the North Riding, from whence he 
 emigrated to Lincolnshire, and his stock invariably 
 catch his finely-chiselled head and fiery eye. In the 
 hunting classes at one of the Catterick Horse Shows, 
 we find him the favoured sire of the " best colt 
 foal for the field/' while President, Voltigeur, and his 
 brother Barnton, were alike honoured in the competi- 
 tion of yearling, two-year-old, and four-year-old 
 " colts or fillies." The Sandbeck toast of " King and 
 Catton" might be drunk without any inappropriate- 
 ness at a hunt-dinner, as the old horse has left a long 
 line of stout hearts behind him. The Duke of Buc- 
 cleuch's Norman by Scarborough, who carried Wil- 
 liamson through many seasons, after being ridden by 
 one of the whips for two, is his grandson, and was bred 
 along with an elder brother, fifteen-three, and with bay 
 and black legs like himself, in Dalkeith Park. Norman 
 is one of those wonderfully docile handy horses, who 
 seems as if he " could canter round a cabbage," and 
 owing to their stoutness, the pair have generally gone 
 by the name, in the Hunt, of Stuffie Major and Stuffie 
 Minor. Some call them " Huffy ;" but, if Jamieson's 
 Scottish Dictionary be any authority, they pay them 
 a very ill compliment by such a nomenclature. Car- 
 dinal Puff's stock were rather few in number, but his 
 hunters were much liked ; and Melbourne's half-bred 
 stock is generally coarse and overgrown. The Rat- 
 catchers have been successful, and Theon's stock are 
 generally very true-made and handsome, but we do 
 not like the style of the Liverpools we have seen at 
 the cover-side, as they rather partake of his tendency 
 
262 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 to weak loins, a fault not observable in the stock of 
 British Yeoman or Idas, which are realizing high 
 prices. Mundig's stock are nearly all chestnuts, many 
 of them shot with white hairs, and have fine size and 
 power, being in fact seldom below sixteen hands. 
 Although their sire's temper was bad enough at times, 
 they do not seem to share it, and some of the highest 
 class ones have belonged to Lord Henry Bentinck. 
 They take to fences as naturally as ducklings to a 
 pond, and Cranebrook did very little towards supply- 
 ing their sire's stall in Northamptonshire, where Vor- 
 tex was in great force. The fashion of a landlord 
 giving prizes to their farmers for the best hunting 
 young stock might be said to have originated in this 
 county ; and about sixty years ago, a Duke of Grafton 
 not only gave them, but added a " fiver" for the 
 farmer's son, under a certain age, who could ride best. 
 The Duke, whose picture as he appeared in his " cock 
 and pinch hat" on the Steyne at Brighton, at the be- 
 ginning of the century, is well-known to old collectors, 
 used to station himself about four fields ahead of that 
 where the lads were drawn up in line, and mark their 
 seat and hand as they raced to him ; but few of that 
 high-mettled corps are now left to tell the tale. As 
 on the turf, the blood of Derby winners is perpetually 
 to be seen in the first flight. The late Sir Richard 
 Button was especially fond of his Whitenose, by 
 Emilius, who has been shot and stuffed since the 1855 
 Quorn sale ; and when it was not Valentine's day, Mr. 
 Savile Foljambe liked best to find himself on Play- 
 fellow, by Pan, out of a Waxy mare. Waxy carried 
 I2st. capitally himself, and beat his old rival Gohanna 
 at even weights for four miles under it. The form of 
 these perpetual rivals was quite as near over the 
 longer distances of that day, as Celia's and Oakley's 
 were of late, and it was computed, that if both were 
 in form, Waxy would beat him at 3lbs., but could not 
 give him /jibs. We can scarcely remember to have 
 
Breeding of Hiinters. 263 
 
 seen a Sultan in the hunting-field, and they certainly 
 had not much girth to inherit from him, however 
 pretty their forehands might be. 
 
 Whitenose, who is said to have carried Sir Richard 
 over the greatest jump he ever rode at, somewhere in 
 the neighbourhood of Barkby Holt, would have given 
 us quite the idea of being a Touchstone horse and by 
 no means a hunter-model ; his thighs seemed almost 
 as straight as Partisan's were, and his withers perhaps 
 the highest we have ever seen. Sir Richard had three 
 falls the first day he rode him, but he never gave him 
 another during che twelve seasons they enjoyed to- 
 gether. His black half-brother, The Emperor, was 
 also a wonderful horse, but for power Sir Richard had 
 few to beat Flambeau, and his thorough-bred seven- 
 teen-hand Hotspur was extraordinary enough to make 
 converts of those who are not fond, as the late baronet 
 was, of size. The style, too, in which Ben Morgan 
 steered the grey Patch, as well as the veteran Lop, 
 and Doctor Smollett, while " Tearaway Jack" tore 
 along on Ptarmigan and Durham are " great facts" in 
 the history of Quorn. Speaking within limits, between 
 1847 an d his death, Sir Richard had no less than 
 twenty-five or thirty horses of a class that could make 
 themselves remembered over the pasture lands of 
 Leicestershire. The Muley blood is well represented 
 by Drayton, whose stock is getting very valuable, and 
 Little Known ; one of the latter's colts at Beverley 
 Fair, about 1852, struck us as a dainty model 
 of a heavy-weight hunter : but, after all said and 
 done, dealers will tell you with truth that there 
 are not more than six or seven hunters, so to speak, 
 foaled in England each year. The Freneys, King 
 David to wit, are very good, and have always a clean 
 wiry look about them, without that temper which 
 their sire used to show by perpetually snapping round 
 at his jockey's legs. The judges at Malton, too, who 
 gave the prize in 1855 for the best hunting sire to 
 
2 64 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Burgundy, had their fiat indorsed by every member 
 of the great horse-flesh congress, who saw him aired 
 up and down the High-street at Doncaster on each of 
 the race mornings. Russia knew his value better than 
 Yorkshire, but he died almost immediately on landing. 
 Fencing has always been the forte of the Ishmaels, 
 and although Burgundy's performances were confined 
 to the turf, the tastes of the family have come pro- 
 minently out in Switcher, Shinrone, Israelite, and 
 Abd-el-Kader. The fact of his dam being an Ishmael 
 also augurs well for Augur, who is so wonderfully 
 muscular, that at first sight he would seem to have a 
 bend-sinister in his escutcheon. The inartistic applica- 
 tion of Major's Remedy threatened at one time to 
 strip every vestige of hair from his legs, and to eat off 
 his hoofs as well, and he actually lived on his knees 
 for weeks till they secreted again, the most extraor- 
 dinary object that veterinary ever beheld. Racing 
 mares, after this, seemed likely to claim his sole 
 attentions, as well as Rataplan's, and the hunting 
 interests to suffer accordingly. During his illness, 
 Augur might have been shown as "a frightful 
 example ;" and, oddly enough, when we were last in 
 his adopted Lincolnshire, we met with a pony in a 
 park, which had run wild so long that her coronets 
 seemed to have entirely merged in the hoofs. In 
 fact, she stood to all appearance on her fetlocks, and 
 the hoofs had become nothing more or less than long 
 strips of horn curled up, and exactly resembling a 
 Chinese boot. Several efforts had been made to pare 
 them into shape, but nature had had her own sweet 
 will too long, and would not be denied. 
 
 The Julius Caesars, of which the late Sir Harry 
 Goodricke's Limner was one of the very best, were 
 very bad to beat over the Midland Counties, in the 
 days when " Frenchmen" and the multiplication of 
 covers had not begun to produce so many ringing 
 home-bred foxes. Sir Harry, who always rode rather 
 
Breeding of Him ters. 265 
 
 slow at his fences, except when he found a young 
 horse careless at timber, and in want of a fall over 
 something that would not break, liked Limner so 
 much, that he went to Mr. Lynes of Oxendon, from 
 whom he had purchased him for 200 guineas, at six 
 years old, and gave him a long price for the dam ; 
 but, with the usual ill luck of all fancy purchases, she 
 died very shortly after, during foaling. Limner is 
 still remembered in the Quorn Hunt, as being the 
 most perfect hunter that Sir Harry ever had in his 
 stud, and was always ridden in a plain snaffle. He 
 was a golden-coloured lengthy fifteen-three chestnut, 
 on short legs, immensely fast, and safe at his fences, 
 until a very foggy morning after a frost seemed to 
 make him a roarer, as if by magic. Owing to the 
 mist, Sir Harry's groom had not found his master till 
 after they had killed their first fox at the' end of a 
 mile run. The hounds had just broken it up, when 
 Sir Harry said to a friend, " Listen ! here comes a 
 banging roarer ;" when, to his horror, his own favourite 
 loomed slowly in sight from the same field. Julius 
 Caesar was up to fifteen stone himself, and regularly 
 took his turn in the hunting-field ; and we have been 
 told that he carried Earl Lonsdale's postman on off 
 days between Cottesmore and Oakham. His lordship 
 always spoke of this horse, to the last, as one of the 
 best he ever rode ; and seeing that his devotion to 
 the chase once tempted him in desperation, after he 
 had been hopelessly frozen in for three weeks, to have 
 out his hounds and show his visitors one of the best 
 runs of the season through six inches of snow, and to 
 be perpetually led by his groom through a run, in the 
 sad interval which preceded his looo-guinea couch- 
 ing operation by Alexander, he was no mean judge 
 of their capabilities. Bishop Bathurst, who seized a 
 gun out of his son's hands, and shot a cock-pheasant 
 at eighty, was not more enthusiastic ; and his ear, 
 like that of Fielding, the blind police magistrate, who 
 
266 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 knew the tones of three thousand pickpockets' voices, 
 was marvellously accurate. In one instance, when he 
 was quite " dark," he heard a gentleman, who had not 
 seen him or hunted with him for twenty seasons, speak 
 to Lambert at the meet, and he immediately hailed 
 him by name, and gave him a most cordial welcome 
 back to the Cottesmore. The leviathan stud at Cottes- 
 more, where every horse had its price, was principally 
 replenished by drafts from his tenants' paddocks in the 
 north, who were never allowed to lack a well-selected 
 hunter-sire ; and Julius Caesar, who would have been 
 perfection if his feet had been quite sound (the failing 
 point of too many of his stock), stood at Fryatt's 
 Melton Paddocks for many years, and had even a larger 
 average of visitors than Belzoni. The produce, which 
 made great prices, were large, and had remarkably fine 
 tempers, an eulogy which could not generally be passed 
 on the pride of Lutterworth. This illustrious hollow- 
 backed son of Blacklock, who was originally bought 
 for 450 guineas, after he broke down at Northampton, 
 spread his name broadcast over the hunting-fields of 
 England, for about twenty seasons ; and his list of mares 
 for one season alone, when he was in his prime, num- 
 bered about 1 20. His hunters are after one type 
 big plain browns with sour tempers, and still sourer 
 forge-hammer heads ; fine propelling quarters, light 
 and leggy at four, but " growing down " after that 
 period, improving vastly between five and seven, and 
 not in their prime till about eight. Still it is said that 
 a great many of them go lame, and invariably in the 
 same foot. If Mr. Lucas had done nothing but buy 
 Belzoni, he would have richly deserved the 5OO-guinea 
 testimonial he received at Rugby, in 1855, from three- 
 hundred friends. The Belzoni stock have always a 
 wonderful dislike to medicine, and it used to take Mr. 
 Lucas nearly three-quarters of an hour to get a ball 
 down the old horse, whose trick of always striking 
 with his off front foot on these occasions has been 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 267 
 
 duly transmitted to his children. He died about six 
 years ago, and the only relic we saw of him, after duly 
 visiting Wickliffe's at Lutterworth, was a pair of slip- 
 pers, which had been made for the groom out of his 
 skin, in honour of their eleven years' intimacy. The 
 animal which did as much, if not most, for his fame, 
 was a mare, The Gipsey, who was bought by the late 
 Hon. Augustus Villiers from Mr. Kench, of Dun- 
 church. She had been used in harness ; but under 
 his able handling, she soon became first-rate in the 
 field, and he won the Melton Steeple-chase and a 
 match against Lord Maidstone, in Leicestershire, as 
 well as another at Leamington, on her. From his 
 hands she passed into Earl Craven's, and often took 
 a front place in the field with his lordship's brother- 
 in-law, the Hon. Robert Grimston, on her back. 
 She stood only fifteen-two, lengthy and very thick 
 through, big plain head, of course, and had strong 
 but heavy shoulders. In her fencing, instead of land- 
 ing on her hind legs, she " pitched " upon her shoul- 
 ders, probably owing to the formation in that part, 
 but still she never fell. Earl Craven afterwards put 
 her to the stud, but she never threw a foal worth its 
 corn. 
 
 While a thousand guineas for blood-yearlings is 
 becoming an every day occurrence, the rage for giving 
 that price for hunters has quite died away ; and we 
 have not heard of such a figure since it was refused 
 both for Harlequin and Limner. Up till 1770-80, 
 even two hundred guineas was hardly dreamt of, and 
 the first hunter we can find any trace of as having 
 fetched that price, was one sold about that period by 
 Mr. Valentine Knightley to a Mr. Alexander Small, 
 the son of a well-known Buckinghamshire rector. 
 Stubbs has preserved the outline of this favoured 
 horse, Monarch, in a pleasant Fawsley shooting picture, 
 where he stands " steady " behind his master ; but he 
 gives one much more the notion of an animal ready 
 
268 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 to screw and creep through any kind of fence on a 
 cold scenting day, than one which meant going. 
 Prices perhaps reached their culminating point in 
 Lord Plymouth's time. His lordship (who could 
 never be called a hard rider) gave Sir Bellingham 
 Graham 1000 guineas for Beeswax and Freemason ; 
 while 700 guineas was the figure both for Little John 
 and a very soft mare, which he fancied from the style 
 in which she went along with Mr. Peter Allix in a 
 single run. He also gave 600 guineas for the sixteen- 
 hands Cervantes horse, off which Mr. Osbaldeston 
 broke his leg for the second time in the Atherstone 
 country, and out of which " The Squire " had already 
 had six years' work. This mania has had its day, 
 and although a racing man has three three-year- 
 olds in his stable which averaged 1200 guineas as 
 yearlings, it is very rarely that a hunter fetches more 
 lhan 400 guineas, though 500 guineas was said to be 
 the reserve-bid for Cock Robin at Tattersall's in 
 1855. Sir Bellingham Graham (who always had an 
 agent in Yorkshire on the look-out) seldom sold his 
 best horses under 400 guineas, and Parchment and 
 The Baron both fetched it. We do not find any trace 
 of the price of Norton Conyers, a chestnut horse, who 
 looked as if he could manage 2Ost, and was the most 
 splendid of gate-jumpers. The handsome grey, Hes- 
 perus, a wonderful animal over a deep country, also 
 came into Mr. Foljambe's hands from the baronet, at 
 400 guineas ; but Will Butler, to whom he was assigned, 
 had to do all his cub-hunting on him that season 
 before he could get him quiet. Confidence was sold 
 three or four times over, for all prices from 750 guineas 
 to 600 guineas ; and emulous of his first and last 
 owner, Mr. Lockley, who died from a fall he received 
 out hunting at fourscore, he lasted for nearly nine- 
 teen seasons. Some said that his price to Lord Ply- 
 mouth was 1000 guineas, but at the end of two years 
 he was returned by his lordship to Mr. Lockley, as 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 269 
 
 he had become quite scaly from surfeit. The Infant, 
 a chestnut horse nearly seventeen hands high, was 
 the biggest Mr. Lockley ever rode. He bought him 
 originally from Lord Foley at Whitley Court, and 
 sold him, with his usual luck, to Lord Edward Mostyn 
 for 450 guineas. Lord Alvanley, who now rests, after 
 his hard-riding and jovial days, in a pleasant little 
 grave of bay and cypress near the north entrance of 
 the Brompton Cemetery, also stuck at no price ; and 
 whenever he had given a very long sum for one, he 
 was always excessively hard upon him for the first 
 few days. A friend once asked him what on earth 
 could have made him go out of his line to have a shy 
 at the widest part of the Wissendine, and all his reply 
 was, " Whath is the uth of giving 700 guineas for a 
 hoth, if he's not to do more than other hothes ? " 
 After losing 2O,ooo/. in St. James's-street, he gaily 
 spoke of himself as being only " a little crippled ; " 
 and it was in the enthusiasm of a steeple-chase 
 home to Melton, with Dick Christian as fox, that 
 he declared " what fun we should have if it wasn't 
 
 for these hounds ! " " Dick Gurney" refused 800 
 
 guineas for Sober Robin, from Mr. Maling, of Bath. 
 This horse was originally purchased by Mr. Anderson, 
 senior, for 8o/., at Lincoln fair, when he was four years 
 old, and was sold to Mr. Gurney for 100 guineas. He 
 was then put into the hands of a Norfolk farmer, to 
 ride with harriers for a year, before Mr. Gurney took 
 him into his own stable. He was a handsome short- 
 legged brown animal, perhaps a trifle under sixteen- 
 one, and his power even under such a fearful handicap 
 as nineteen stone for twelve seasons was incredible. 
 One of the very few horses of that time which equalled 
 him in substance was Mr. Edge's Gayman : but as Mr. 
 Edge was a Quorn man, and Mr. Gurney invariably 
 hunted with the Pytcheley, the Mammoths were never 
 fairly laid alongside each other in a run. Mr. Gurney 
 did not begin to ride till late in life, and then he went 
 
2 ;o The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 bruising away from his first find as if he had been at 
 it all his life, comforting himself with the notion that 
 " if heavy men break their horses' backs, light men 
 break their hearts." 
 
 It was a royal sight to see him go pounding along 
 on Robin, with a pound weight of gold and silver jin- 
 gling in his waistcoat; and if he did not jump through 
 a gate, out would come half-a-crown and a very 
 forcible sanatory recommendation to any old stick- 
 gathering lady who had the luck to open it for him. 
 In spite of his always getting so forward, he sat like a 
 sack, and could never be said to have any hands on a 
 horse. Old Prince was also another of these thorough- 
 bred waggon horses ; so good, in fact, that the late 
 Lord Forester and Sir Robert Leighton posted a 
 thousand-guinea challenge at Tattersall's, about the 
 year 1813, for him and his owner (old George Harriot, 
 of Melton) to run against any or all comers over 
 Leicestershire at sixteen stone for 1000 guineas. One 
 morning, just as the hounds found at Whetstone 
 Gorse, Sir Robert said to his owner " For goodness' 
 sake don't ride to-day ; Canning's brother is here to 
 get your measure and make the match." But the 
 reply was " You are too late ; the horse would break 
 my neck if I tried to stop him now." So away went 
 " the heavies," side by side, till they reached a brook, 
 which the old horse, pricking his ears as was his wont, 
 took in his stride, while his companion floundered, 
 fell, and was no more seen, and thus ended all hopes 
 of the match ; but the old horse went on through the 
 fifty minutes without a check, and Mr. Assheton 
 Smith was only second up that day. 
 
 The late Lord Sefton's father, when he hunted 
 Leicestershire, had the finest stable of horses that 
 ever man possessed ; they were most of them tho- 
 rough-bred and as strong as dray-horses. He was 
 the first^ to introduce the second-horse system, which 
 he did in right good earnest, as he had not unfre- 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 271 
 
 quently four in the field ; and thus, although no horse 
 could go much longer than ten minutes under such a 
 bruiser, he was always able to ride with the light 
 weights. As an instance of the effect of weight, we 
 may mention that the late Lord Spencer had once a 
 thorough-bred horse called Brocklesby ; a finer horse 
 could not be seen, but nothing would make him jump. 
 They took him to the bar, and he would go over it 
 almost any height ; but when they weighted him 
 with twelve stone of lead, he would not even rise at 
 it, and was used as a carriage horse ever after. A 
 jumper of old standing and less eccentric mind would 
 have not taken to the collar so readily. The cele- 
 brated John Warde is reported to have had a proof of 
 this when he put four of his retired Blue Ruin stamp 
 of hunters into his High Sheriff's coach. The two 
 law-chiefs found themselves describing a sort of zig- 
 zag movement behind the javelin men and trumpeters, 
 who had no doubt revived some old hunting-horn 
 associations ; and on appealing to the Sheriff, he 
 simply put his head out of the window, saying 
 " They're my hunters, my lord, and they're all jibbers 
 hang it ! but I'll get out and walk." 
 
 Mr. George Payne's sale, about 1826, was the 
 greatest ever known, and twenty-six hunters and 
 hacks realized 7500 guineas. An odd incident oc- 
 curred at it, in consequence of a noted horse, called 
 Cottager, having had his name changed, when he 
 entered Mr. Payne's stud, to distinguish him from 
 another Cottager, which was there already. Hence 
 a gentleman at the sale, who knew of the greatest of 
 the two Cottagers by report, and had never seen 
 either, bought the one in the list for 400 guineas, and 
 found that he had got the wrong horse after all. 
 It is also not so very long since a commissioner was 
 sent to Tattersall's to buy " The Bank of England," 
 and bid for " The Banker" by mistake. The latter 
 was knocked down to him for 38 guineas, while 
 
272 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 "The Bank of England" went for 1 80 guineas, and 
 turned out to be by far the worst lot of the two. The 
 sales of Discount might form a chapter of them- 
 selves. He was a short-topped fifteen-three chestnut 
 up to a very high weight, but so slow on the flat that 
 the racing world doubt whether he has really come 
 in yet for the Goodwood Cup (1844), and fancy he 
 must still be working his way home round the Clump. 
 He was by Sir Hercules, out of Minnikin, by Man- 
 fred, and foaled in 1838 in the paddocks of his 
 breeder, the late Mr. John Fowler, of Erdington, 
 near Birmingham. After being beaten at Warwick, 
 in 1842, for the Members' Plate, he was sold that 
 afternoon to Mr. Denham for jol. His new owner 
 merely put him over a few small fences, which he 
 took to the first day : but as the ground was hard he 
 could not do much with him. Lord Chesterfield 
 looked him over, and thought he could carry him 
 well in another season ; and Mr. Greene, who was 
 then at the commencement of his memorable Quorn 
 mastership, declined him at 120 guineas, on account 
 of his being curby. Within a few days Mr. Payne, 
 of Market Harboro', purchased him as an untried 
 hunter, after a little consideration for I5O/. but sold 
 him in less than a fortnight to Mr. Pochin, of Barkby 
 Hall, for 200 guineas. The horse then put out a 
 curb, and Mr. Payne bought him back at I5O/., 
 and let Mr. Quartermaine have him at I7O/. He 
 then threw aside his old name of Magnum Bonum, 
 took that of Discount, and entered on public life. It 
 has perhaps never before fallen to the lot of any 
 man to have picked up two horses like Discount and 
 Fire-King, and so close on each other; and December, 
 whom he sold the same autumn for. 200 guineas, to 
 Mr. William Coke, was also a first-rate performer. 
 Discount's triplet of steeple-chases at Liverpool, 
 Worcester, and Coventry, soon caused 1000 guineas 
 to be refused for him, and he was sold at Tattersall's, 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 273 
 
 where he was put up with three other of Mr. Quarter- 
 maine's, whose sale he would have injured if the 
 private offer had been accepted, for 820 guineas 
 to Mr. Anderson, who made, it was said, noo 
 guineas for him, and the public heard of him no 
 more. The Messrs. Hall, late of Neasdon, got 565 
 guineas for a hunter from a Crimean officer, shortly 
 before he sailed, but its price fell sixty per cenc. 
 at least when it was put up for auction a few months 
 afterwards. No such price has, to our knowledge, 
 been given for a hunter for many a long day, and 
 the last seven-hundred-guinea hunter within our 
 memory was a bay half-bred Arab, who first changed 
 hands at 3O/., when his jumping powers were still 
 under a bushel. At TattersalTs in May 1856, eleven 
 out of one stud averaged 283^ guineas ; and in one 
 week of May 1857, eight top prices from five studs 
 averaged 305 J guineas, though the average was 
 enormously swelled by Lord Stamford's 560 guinea 
 purchase of Mr. A. Thomson's splendid sixteen-two 
 bay Maximus by Cotherstone, who carried him so 
 splendidly in his I h. 30 m. Claydon's Wood run. 
 Thirteen at the Quorn sale just averaged 294 guineas, 
 thanks to the frost. We have seldom seen a lot of 
 horses with better backs, quarters, and shoulders, 
 than the late Sir Richard Sutton's, but many of them 
 seemed to have remarkably plain heads, a remark 
 which does not apply to the Milton hunting stud. 
 The 36o-guinea Shankton was originally sold by Mr. 
 Pratt to Sir Richard for 8o/., when he was rising six, 
 and a five-pound note extra if he turned out well. 
 He is an Irish horse, perhaps a trifle short, and with 
 not very nice legs, but very fine in all his other points. 
 Somerby was so great in his jumping, that his old 
 Leicestershire friends predicted of him that " he 
 would jump two fields at once" when he was once set 
 going across Cheshire, and we have perhaps never 
 stood behind a horse in that stable with greater 
 
 T 
 
2 74 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 pleasure. Freney was also after our own heart, while 
 Malakhoff was a magnificent sixteen-one fellow, and 
 quite the fastest and finest-actioned animal in the 
 stud. He is Irish bred, and was bought at York, 
 under another name, for 13O/. in 1854, and gradually 
 rose the gamut to 400 guineas, at which price he 
 passed into Sir Richard's hands, with the assurance 
 that he only wanted a couple of falls to make him 
 perfect ; but his lamented owner was never on his. 
 back in a run. As far as we can hear, the horses, 
 with the exception of Mr. Richard Button's (the 
 average for whose five best only fell from 328 guineas 
 to 298 guineas, when they came up to Tattersall's), 
 as a lot, turned out anything but well in their 
 new owners' hands, in comparison to what their 
 prices warranted. One of them, in fact, was sold that 
 very night at an 8o/. sacrifice. It must have been the 
 anxiety to have a relic of Quorn which forced the 
 prices at least thirty per cent., at that eventful sale. 
 The thermometer was below freezing point ; and as 
 we looked round at the old Hall, so rich in hunting 
 recollections of Meynell, Bellingham Graham, and 
 Osbaldeston, with its dingy yellow walls, its frozen 
 ponds, and its sad front door escutcheon, we could 
 hardly realize that the master-spirit of Leicestershire 
 had but six short weeks before sallied forth from it, 
 with his horn at his saddlebow, and his sons at his 
 side, to open his ninth Quorn season at Kirby Gate. 
 Sir Richard was only ten years old, and under the 
 care of a clergyman at Burton, when his hunting days 
 began. " The Squire," who had bought Lord Mon- 
 son's hounds, and was then hunting his seven seasons 
 in Lincolnshire, thought he seemed to have a taste for 
 the thing, and often persuaded his tutor to let the 
 boy-baronet leave his Cornelius Nepos for a morning, 
 and take a lesson under himself and Tom Sebright, 
 mounting him on a grey pony which belonged to the 
 latter. His fox-hunting Mentor, who was a perfect 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 275 
 
 horseman at eighteen, had previously kept a pack of 
 harriers on the Yorkshire Wolds, and one of his first 
 moves was to challenge Sir Mark Sykes, to run a 
 couple of them four miles against a like number of his 
 foxhounds. Tom Sebright, and the late Tom Carter 
 rode the good old-fashioned drag, a small wisp of 
 straw in which a fox had lain overnight ; but the fox- 
 hounds went right away from their presumptuous 
 rivals. This little mishap rather sickened him of the 
 Holderness country, of whose Beverley Club, Colonel 
 Mellish, Mr. Gascoyne, Mr. Martin Hawke, and him- 
 self were the members, and he sought for rather a 
 wider field of distinction. His greatest Lincolnshire 
 day was when he met at Glentworth, ran his fox ten 
 miles straight, and lost him within two or three fields 
 of Gainsborough. Not contented with this, they found 
 again instantly at Lea Wood, and streamed away across 
 the flat to Ingleby Wood, leaving Carlton on the left, 
 and on past Dunham Corner, and Riseholme, where the 
 hounds were observed by a Lincoln butcher, who suc- 
 ceeded in coaxing them on to the road, casting them- 
 selves near Greetwell turf-pits. From Glentworth to 
 that point was about twenty-five miles straight, and 
 the kennel huntsman happening to hear from some- 
 one on the road that there was not one scarlet with 
 them, sallied forth post-haste on his pony and brought 
 them back to Burton. Mr. Osbaldeston got further 
 than any of the field on his old Scrivington horse, 
 who was, however, hardly so good as " the little 
 mare," whom he bought from Colonel Elmhurst, on 
 condition that she was to be returned when worn out. 
 She was only fifteen-one, and rather warm in her 
 temper. " The Squire" first fell in love with her, and 
 determined to have her at any price, from seeing Tom 
 Sebright (who was riding her for the Colonel, to make 
 her a little more temperate) take a five-feet-six stone 
 wall out of Norton deer park, near Spital, when the 
 hounds were running. The grave where Tally-ho 
 
 T2 
 
276 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 sleeps in his shoes is forgotten at Quorn now, but 
 " The Squire" has not forgotten how he carried him 
 right through a run with Mr. Musters's hounds when 
 the latter gentleman finished on his third horse. 
 This old horse did not long survive his triumph, and 
 died from coming out rather too fat, to the great 
 sorrow of Tom Sebright, who rode him on that fatal 
 day. 
 
 In his power of bearing fatigue, the late Mr. Con- 
 yers was almost a match for " The Squire," and at 
 times he would ride upwards of sixty miles to and 
 from cover. He was seldom seen to take a fence, but 
 he knew Essex so intimately that he was always up, 
 especially when he was on his pet Canvass, whom he 
 rode (as Earl Wemyss did his celebrated Prince Le 
 Boo) for seventeen seasons. This grey horse was pur- 
 chased originally for 150 guineas from Lord Chet- 
 wynd, and Mr. Assheton Smith offered 300 guineas in 
 vain. Tabor, Tomboy, and Banbury all did good 
 service to Jim Morgan during his fifteen years with 
 the Essex ; but Haydock, a fifteen-one Partisan horse, 
 and most wonderful at bank jumping, was his best ; 
 and one day he was nearly seventeen hours and a 
 half on his back. This wonderful old horseman, 
 at upwards of seventy, dropped into a lane or 
 took the most cramped of stiles, on Sultan or his rat- 
 tailed Boot-maker, as if it was mere child's play ; he 
 was the son of a tenant farmer at Flottonbrook, in 
 Suffolk, and commenced his career on a pony given 
 him by his uncle, when Mr. Lloyd, of Hintlesham, 
 kept harriers there. He distinguished himself so much 
 by charging a gate out of a lane, when nearly a whole 
 field got set fast, that when the harriers were trans- 
 muted into foxhounds, their master and Parson Tweed 
 went to his father, and got his consent for Jim to be- 
 come a whip. It was during his eleven years' service 
 that Mr. Lloyd had his 4 hours 20 minutes from 
 Swallins Grove, and another of only five minutes less, 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 277 
 
 ending with a kill near Coombes Pie, after they had 
 run through twenty-four parishes. On the first occa- 
 sion Jim rode his own black horse Mungo, whom he 
 bought and sold four times over, twice for 7O/., once 
 for 2O/., and finally for I5/., when he had still some- 
 thing left in him, though rising twenty-three ! In the 
 second of the runs the late Marquis of Anglesea made 
 one of the 141 out of the 150 who were beaten out of 
 sight ; and even Miss Beverley, the hitherto-untired 
 mare of Harry Fenn, the huntsman, shut up in the 
 middle of a field, a mile from the finish. Some few 
 years after this Jim whipped-in and acted as kennel 
 huntsman to the Tickham hounds, when Giles Mor- 
 gan, a neighbouring farmer, had ioo/. a year to hunt 
 them, and find his own horse. Those were days when 
 Lord Sondes would bring out seventy couples, harriers 
 and foxhounds, in one great chaotic mass, run a fox 
 to ground, and get back to Lees Court at night, some 
 thirty couples short, so that the men of Kent could 
 not complain of lack of variety in their field sports. 
 Jim put his arm out five times, and so badly on 
 one occasion that his whips could not pull it in, and 
 had to ride on with the hounds and leave him. How- 
 ever he was helped on to his horse, where a chance 
 pressure of the limb on the saddle sent it once more 
 into its socket. Hence the reason he characteris- 
 tically assigns for his daring riding, " As I can- 
 not open gates, I must ride over them :" a sentiment 
 about as terse and decisive as any in the English 
 language. No wonder his sons, Ben, Jack, Goddard, 
 and Tom, ride to hounds as four brothers never rode 
 before. 
 
 The most fortunate sale we remember, of the pro- 
 duce of one hunting mare, was in the case of the dam 
 of Panza, Clipper, and Clinker, which noble leash 
 averaged 633 guineas apiece. They were all the pro- 
 perty of the then Mr. Holyoake, who sold Clinker, 
 after he had ridden him a couple of seasons, to Cap- 
 
278 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 tain Ross for 900 or 1000 guineas, and retained Panza, 
 who was less than Clinker, and generally deemed the 
 cleverest of the three. Clinker, along with his great 
 rival, Clasher, Assheton, and Jack-a'-Lantern, were 
 popularly considered the heroes of the Homeric age 
 of hunting, as Moonraker, Grimaldi, Vyvian, and 
 Lottery were of steeplechasing. He was rather a 
 short thorough-bred bay horse, of great power, be- 
 tween sixteen and sixteen-one, up to fourteen 
 stone, with a long lean head, long in his pasterns, and 
 very fast, but rather high-tempered, as all the Clinkers 
 were, and, like Lottery, a very nervous water- jumper. 
 Good judges differed a good deal about him ; and 
 while many, including Mr. Osbaldeston (who ranked 
 him with his hound Vaulter), thought him bordering 
 on perfection, others have told us that he by no means 
 came up to their notions of a first-class hunter. He 
 was eventually sold by auction, along with Polecat 
 and the remainder of Captain Ross's stud, opposite 
 the George at Melton, and was knocked down to Lord 
 Willoughby D'Eresby for 350 guineas. Upwards of 
 two years afterwards Dick Christian was at Grims- 
 thorpe Castle, and his lordship said, " Christian, will 
 the old horse know you, do you think ?" " Very 
 likely, my lord," said Dick, and on going into the 
 stall and speaking to him, he seemed to express, by 
 rocking about, the very greatest pleasure at the visit. 
 His sire Clinker was by Sir Peter Teazle, and he and 
 his two half-brothers were bred by a Lincolnshire 
 farmer of the name of Wagstaff, out of, we believe, a 
 Sancho mare. It was from his High Sheriff's seat in 
 the York court that " The Squire" answered Captain 
 Ross's challenge to run him against Clasher, who was 
 a very good-looking fifteen-three brown horse, well up 
 to thirteen stone, and able to live in the front rank in 
 those jealous days, when it was all the fashion to 
 "ride at" his owner. Ride as they might, "The 
 Squire" was not to be caught, even with second 
 
Breeding of Himters. 2 79 
 
 horses, when he was on Assheton, of whom he fondly 
 avers, " He ivas the very best horse I ever had in my 
 life, or ever saw in my life'' He was a complete 
 racer to look at, and barely measured fifteen one and 
 a half; and those who have had the pleasure of look- 
 ing round Mr. Ferneley's Melton studio will remember 
 his admirable painting of " The Squire" charging a 
 gate on the little horse, while the late Sir Harry 
 Goodricke (who always looked out for an odd cramped 
 place) on Doctor Russell, and Mr. Holyoake on Cross- 
 bow, are coming over the fence on each side of him. 
 Dick Burton rode him for three seasons before his 
 master took to him for three more, and he was never 
 known to tire in the longest day, or to give either of 
 them a fall. He originally belonged to the Rev. Mr. 
 Empson, who bought him from his breeder, Mr. 
 Brackenbury, in the Spilsby neighbourhood, for 200 
 guineas, and then found that he could not ride him. 
 He was always falling at his fences, and his constant 
 practice was to get rid of his groom, when he was out 
 at exercise, and jump all the white gates back to his 
 stable. Things became so bad with the two, that 
 Mr. Emerson told Dick Burton he must have a try 
 with him ; and accordingly, when the Quorn met at 
 Owthorpe Knotts next day, the little whole-coloured 
 blood bay arrived with two snaffles and a martingale 
 on. The groom had led him sixteen miles on foot 
 because he dared not get on him, and he looked 
 such a picture that Beau Brummell might have tied 
 his cravat in the reflection of his coat. Dick vowed, 
 before he mounted, that he had never yet seen 
 such a beautiful animal. Once on, he found it was 
 hopeless to try and hold him, and was obliged to 
 let him lead from end to end, over heavy plough 
 and blind fences, in a run of an hour and thirty-five 
 minutes ; and at the end of a run with a second fox 
 only a quarter of an hour less, the little horse was 
 neither " sick nor sorry." To the groom's query 
 
2 So The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Dick only replied, " He carried me middling ;" but 
 he did not rest till " The Squire" had bought him 
 next day for 1 20 guineas. Perhaps his greatest feat 
 was when the latter rode him in a tremendous run 
 of ten miles from Billesdon Coplow to Ranksboro' 
 Gorse. The pace was so great that at the bottom of 
 Ranksboro' Hill only five out of some 170 scarlets 
 were left, and at this point Sir Harry Goodricke, Mr. 
 Holyoake, and Mr. Maher were fairly choked off; 
 while Mr. Osbaldeston and Mr. Greene, on his noted 
 bay mare, ascended it side by side. The hounds 
 dwelt a little in the gorse, which let up some strag- 
 glers, and pointed away towards Whissendine with a 
 fresh fox ; and it was the wondrous turn of speed he 
 showed when Mr. Osbaldeston raced to stop them, as 
 they were running a hare, which jumped up right in 
 their line, when they had run about two miles, that 
 so astonished every one who saw it. The run this 
 day was still hardly so fast as that from Thorpe 
 Trussels to Rolleston, in Mr. Greene's mastership, 
 which was done without a semblance of a check in % 
 fifty minutes, the hounds fairly racing away from the 
 field. The Quorn have seldom had as fast a thing, 
 except when they ran Burgess's black-and-white 
 terrier three miles without a check, and finally earthed 
 it under some of the large lumps in its owner's coal- 
 hole. " Have you seen the fox ?" roared the puzzled 
 huntsman to a ploughman on the line ; and " Noe, but 
 I seed a little bit of a hound, a hundred yards ahead, 
 leading 'em beautiful" was the still more puzzling 
 reply. Even Mr. Meynell would quite have, condoned 
 such an offence ; as, when a gentleman once com- 
 plained to him that he had been out on a very wild- 
 scenting day, and that the hounds " had commenced 
 with a fox, had a turn at a hare, and wound up with a 
 polecat," he replied, very much to his friend's surprise, 
 that he " wouldn't give a fig for hounds who wouldn't 
 run riot on such a day." The words were scarcely 
 
Breeding of PI unters. 281 
 
 out of the great maestro's mouth, and he had resumed 
 his conversation, when a hare jumped up before his 
 own hounds, which were reputed the steadiest in the 
 
 world, and away they went. " Lucky for me, , I 
 
 answered that man as I did," were his first words as 
 he returned with the rioters, after a hard two miles' 
 gallop. 
 
 Assheton was christened after his owner's dis- 
 tinguished predecessor at Quorn, whose name will 
 always be associated with his gallantest of chestnuts, 
 Jack-a-Lantern. Jack was a wonderfully compact 
 horse, of moderate substance, not much over fifteen 
 and a half, rather cow-hocked, and a very handy and 
 quick jumper of every description of fence. There 
 used to be a sort of magic sympathy between the two. 
 Mr. Smith, who always seemed to teach his horses to 
 throw themselves sideways over their fences, would 
 trot along, with the reins carelessly held in his left 
 hand, and waving with his right to the hounds at a 
 cast, and Jack would take him over fence after fence, 
 as they came, such as would have stopped nine-tenths 
 of a field in a run, while he never once seemed to 
 take his eye off the hounds. He was one of the most 
 careless of roadsters, and though generally so gentle 
 that a child could have ridden him, he was at odd 
 times, if he was at all ruffled, perfectly ungovernable. 
 It is on record that just as the fox broke away from 
 Burbidge Wood, he took the bit in his teeth, and 
 dashed off for a couple of miles in exactly the oppo- 
 site direction, before his owner could get a pull at 
 him. This he did with quite as much apparent gusto 
 as the late Mr. Musters, who delighted, whenever he 
 did not like the " thrusting-scoundrel" look of his 
 field, to blow his hounds out of cover, and to go as 
 straight as a crow for another some five miles off; 
 thus not only shaking off three-fourths of his field for 
 the day, but deluding several of the rest into a belief 
 that they had a very fast thing. On one occasion, in 
 
282 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 the Oxton Warren country, according to Actczon* he 
 craftily ran five miles after a fox's head, which his 
 second whip, according to orders, had tied to his 
 thong, and finally thrust down a strong head of earths, 
 over which a sneak of a gamekeeper presided. After 
 exacting a solemn promise that the latter would not 
 dig him out, Mr. Musters returned stealthily from 
 Colwick at dark, and found him busy at it with three 
 assistants, and trying " to comb his jacket," as he 
 pleasantly remarked, at intervals, with a long rose 
 brier ! Mr. Hugh Bruce Campbell speaks thus of the 
 " Nottingham Squire's" ridingt in a very spirited 
 memoir : 
 
 " Although one of the most determined riders that 
 ever got across a horse, Mr. Musters was not a grace- 
 ful horseman : he put the saddle too near the chine, 
 and was wont to remark that the saddle could not be 
 too forward for hunting, nor too backward for the 
 road. His mode of getting over a country was pecu- 
 liar, especially during the last twenty-five years that 
 he hunted : he rarely took a leap flying ; he either 
 made his horse jump standing, or he thrust him 
 through the fence ; timber of course he could not so 
 treat, and when he was obliged to charge it, he always 
 put his horse at it, however high and strong, at as 
 quick a trot as the animal could go, but never at a 
 gallop, or even a canter, if the horse could possibly be 
 restrained to a trot ; for he said that at a trot the 
 horse can always measure his ground, and when to 
 make his rise ; but at a gallop or canter he might get 
 too near, and be unable to recover himself. He never, 
 or very rarely, struck his horse at going at a fence, 
 and strongly objected to it, for he said, ' the whip or 
 the hand up directed the horse's eyes and attention 
 behind him instead of before hence many a mis- 
 
 * Smarting Review, Feb. 1850. <\- Ibid., Jan. 1850. 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 283 
 
 take at a fence, for which the rider only was respon- 
 sible.' 
 
 " At a brook his axiom was, if only two yards wide, 
 you could not go too fast, for it was always soft 
 lighting: by riding full gallop at a brook the horse's 
 heart was prevented from failing him at the sight of 
 water, and thus he got safe over by his own impetus 
 and spring ; when ten to one, by the rider going 
 slowly at it, the horse would thence infer danger, and 
 refuse altogether. 
 
 " His weight (from 40) induced his establishing the 
 above close mode of riding over or through fences. 
 The skins of his horses' legs were pricked ; but the 
 concussion of their limbs was saved. It was a trou- 
 blesome business for the groom carefully to examine 
 the horse's legs after a hard day's work. Truly might 
 be quoted of him the well-known line from ' Life let 
 us cherish,' 
 
 ' He seeks for thorns, and finds his share.'" 
 
 We cannot close our quotation without giving the 
 following refreshing scene from the same memoir : 
 
 " A few seasons ago, almost the last that Mr. 
 Musters hunted South Notts, the Quorn hounds, with 
 Tom Day, found their fox at Bunny, ana brought 
 him by Bradmore, Ruddington, and Plumptre to 
 Tollerton. On the same day the squire had found 
 his fox at Edwalton, and was running him by Gam- 
 stone towards Cotgrave, when either his hounds got 
 on the run of the other fox, or vice versa. Both packs, 
 however, immediately joined and ran all well to- 
 gether, with their sterns down, up wind, by Clipstone 
 and Normanton Wolds, pulling the fox down in less 
 than ten minutes from the junction, in an ash holt 
 near to the Melton turnpike road. It was a scene 
 which none who witnessed ever can forget : the old 
 squire and Tom Day each claiming it to be his run 
 fox, riding side by side over every fence with all the 
 
284 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 keen ardour and genuine pluck which each had always 
 possessed : each recognising and pointing to parti- 
 cular hounds then ahead, and running for their fox as 
 his ; each cheering on his own favourites. ' Look at 
 my Watchman and Anxious/ exclaims Mr. Musters. 
 * Ah ! but, Squire/ answers Day, ' see our old Lounger 
 and Purity ; Purity means to have at him first, and 
 will/ The finish soon takes place. Day jumped off 
 his horse quickly, and was as speedily over the fence 
 and into the plantation, the squire close after him. 
 Day seizing reynard, ejaculated, ' It's my fox, Squire. 
 I'll swear to it among a million, I will / and he strutted 
 along, holding him in his hand, and crowing like a 
 bantam-cock of the purest breed, the Squire at his 
 side looking like a fine old game cock that had won 
 his hundred battles, and could afford the other's 
 triumph. He denied, but Day persisted that it was 
 his run fox, and there was no further wrangling 
 except by the hounds in eating him. Then occurred 
 another pleasing scene. The Squire and Day draw- 
 ing by alternate calls their respective hounds, which 
 was speedily done, all jealous feelings subsided, and 
 civil greetings were exchanged on departing." 
 
 An anecdote is told in illustration of Jack-a- 
 Lantern's gentleness. When Mr. Lindow had broken 
 his collar-bone, and was quite unable to hold The 
 Clipper, even with the "Clipper bit," Mr. Smith 
 changed horses with him for the day. The meet was 
 at Scoling's Gorse, near Melton, which has long since 
 fallen under the plough. Mr. Lindow rode Jack with 
 one arm in a sling, and the Clipper was brought out 
 with bit-cheeks some eight inches long, and the huge 
 attendant curb-chain. Every one thought Mr. Smith 
 bewitched because he would not mount till the curb- 
 chain was taken off ; and after pledging themselves 
 that he would never be able to pull him up till he 
 reached the sea-coast, they heard early in the after- 
 noon that "Mr. Smith had run away with The 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 285 
 
 Clipper," and that he could never go half fast 
 enough for him any part of the run. Apropos of this 
 runaway match, the best riders almost universally 
 agree that although some horses get their heads up 
 and cannot be rounded without a curb, it should only 
 be used as an auxiliary, and that if a horse runs away 
 with you, you must have recourse to the snaffle. Mr. 
 George Talbot, who formerly managed Lord Vernon's 
 hounds in the days of Sam Lawley, never allowed a 
 curb-bridle to be used ; and Dick Knight, Lord 
 Spencer's huntsman, and the finest of horsemen, 
 adopted the same rule. Clasher was bought by " The 
 Squire" from a farmer in Lincolnshire; and both 
 Lottery and Jerry were picked up at Horncastle Fair, 
 each, if we remember rightly, for i8o/. The former 
 was beaten shamefully in his first race, but James 
 Mason soon taught him his work ; and it is stated that 
 till the day of his death, when he was working as 
 leader with Carlow and one or two other ex-steeple- 
 chasers in Messrs. Hall of Neasdon's team, he was 
 ready to fly open-mouthed at his old " light-blue and 
 black cap" confederate, whenever he caught a glimpse 
 of him. His notions of Auld Langsyne differed ma- 
 terially from Clinker's. George Dockeray had the use 
 of him as his training hack for some time at Epsom, 
 and his skin as well as Duenna's, the " long-headed 
 old dun girl," who made him quake in her day, now 
 serve as rugs at the Dudding Hill farm. How changed 
 the scene at this " Short-horn ' Tattersall's " since the 
 editor of the Herd Book came there ! Oxen and kine 
 for sale are beginning to fill the 107 loose boxes ; the 
 short-bull Vocalist, grandson of the looo-guinea Grand 
 Duke, now feeds from The Libel's bin ; and old 
 Vulcan and Chabron are the only sires in that row 
 where seven, headed by Harkaway and Epirus, once 
 stood. Jerry, by Catterick, changed hands much 
 oftener than Lottery. He was an idle and by no 
 means a brilliant horse ; but if he began quietly, he 
 
286 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 could go on for ever. Three hundred guineas was the 
 highest figure he ever reached, and that sum, or 25<D/., 
 was given twice or three times over for him, by Lords 
 Suffield, Uxbridge, and Messrs. Elmore and Anderson. 
 Of all " mud-larkers," the Uxbridge-born British 
 Yeoman was the premier. He was " light everywhere, 
 all wire in fact, and with far more of the cut of a 
 carriage-horse than a hunter ;" but although wonder- 
 fully steady, he was rather too slow at his jumps for 
 the present light-weight steeple-racing. He was by 
 Count Porro out of Pintail, who bred such bad 
 animals, weak hocked, and not able to go a yard in 
 dirt, for several seasons, that " Nimrod" advised her 
 owner to save himself an income by cutting her throat. 
 Alas for advice gratis ! she lived to produce British 
 Yeoman.* 
 
 Peter Simple's steeple-chase prowess is still fondly 
 remembered in Lincolnshire, and we have often been 
 amused with the habit which prevails there, of com- 
 paring the points of every grey hunter, by " Old 
 Peter," as he is familiarly termed. He was a grey 
 light-fleshed varmint-looking horse, not very big, but 
 all muscle and wire ; and, be the fence what it might, 
 he would, like his more modern namesake from the 
 Holderness country, have it some way or other, and 
 without a mistake. Such light perfect action as his 
 has been rarely seen, and this knack of moving was 
 peculiar to all the stock of Arbutus. It was in a run 
 from Bradley Wood to Irby Holmes, during a very 
 foggy morning, that a few of the leaders first began to 
 suspect that something extraordinary in the horse- 
 flesh way was coming out, as they never could get rid 
 of the grey spectre. Gaylad, a lengthy coaching-sort 
 of horse by Brutandorf, was another of the Lincoln- 
 shire steeple-chase cracks, but he was unable to get 
 through dirt like Peter Simple ; still, what he lost by 
 
 * Snorting Review, February, 1850. 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 287 
 
 being slow even on good ground, he made up by his 
 power of going on in his stride after a fence, and 
 although he seemed to gallop over them, he rarely, if 
 ever, made a mistake. The Greyling, Cigar, and 
 Grimaldi were also the incarnation of " gallant greys," 
 and the latter was a fifteen-three horse on short legs, 
 and at least half a hand less than his leggy steeple- 
 chase rival, Moonraker, of whom, with " The Squire" 
 up, he cleverly disposed, in their great looo-guinea 
 match. Moonraker was originally bought for 20 sovs. 
 at Birmingham Fair, and won the steeple-chase at St. 
 Albans, whose tutelary saint he quite ousted for the 
 time being. He never reached a higher figure than 
 200 guineas, as his speed was far inferior to his great 
 raking style at a fence, and he was fired and very 
 tender on both his front legs. Cigar was also fully 
 sixteen hands high, and won, in Mr. Anderson's hands, 
 the only loo-guinea sweepstakes ever run across 
 country. Fourteen stone was about his mark, but 
 Lord Southampton (who bought two three-hundred 
 greys from Sir Harry Goodricke) gave Mr. Anderson 
 300 guineas for him after he retired from the steeple- 
 chase world, and rode seventeen stone on him for three 
 seasons. He then came into his old owner's hands 
 again, but he never mounted him, and had him mer- 
 cifully shot soon after, rather than let him down in 
 the world, after such faithful service. 
 
 The greatest riding period with the Quorn is gene- 
 rally allowed to be that of Lords Jersey, Germaine, 
 and Forester, and Messrs. Cholmondeley (afterwards 
 Lord Delamere), Assheton Smith, Lindow, &c. Of 
 Mr. Lindow and his twin-brother, Mr. Rawlinson, 
 who was as famous over Leicestershire on Spread 
 Eagle as he was on the turf with Coronation, it used 
 to be said that the latter's riding was better for his 
 horse, but that the former sold his horses better. 
 One well-known character used to come out of the 
 fen district at intervals, with his nags in the primest 
 
288 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 order, and only attended the picked Quorn meet?, for 
 the purpose of riding them for sale, in which he was 
 eminently successful. During the summer months 
 he did a little quiet touting ; and we think it was 
 Lord Charles Somerset who, after drawing all the 
 covers bordering on the B.M. unsuccessfully, caught 
 him lying in a crop of coleseed, close by the spot, 
 where a great trial was to come off. This break-up 
 of the Meltonian outsider's touting habits long 
 ranked with the stories of how the spy who lay in 
 the loft over Dick Andrew's stable (which was let 
 separate from it) was deceived into believing that 
 the horse had no cough, by changing him out of his 
 usual stall for a couple of days ; and how Sam Chif- 
 ney was put on the worst of the two horses, about 
 whose relative forms there was some mystery, at the 
 Ditch stables, and was transferred to the other, who 
 had only a groom " up,"' the moment the long odds 
 were " got " about it. This was certainly the sharpest 
 piece of practice in the Heath annals ; and only a 
 few horsemen, who followed the field as they walked 
 down towards Choak Jade, saw it done. Some years 
 later in Oxfordshire, the celebrated twins (the two 
 Dromios could not have been more alike) were 
 riding as well as ever, and when both were in their 
 straight waistcoats bound with black, their brown 
 tops, and their white cords, one was perpetually sa- 
 luted for the other. Mr. Lindow on Landscape, and 
 Mr. Rawlinson on Vernon, jumped everything before 
 them ; but Mr. Ben Holloway, of Charlbury, was 
 rathej, a Jjiorn in their sides on Snitterfield ; and one 
 day when only-Mr. Rawlinson was out, and the 
 two were taking their fences side by side in a very 
 fast forty-five minutes from Churchill's Heath, Ver- 
 non dislocated his pastern. A more elegant horse- 
 man, and with finer head and hands, than Lord 
 Jersey never crossed Leicestershire, and he could 
 steal along, when hounds were running, as if he was 
 
Breeding of Himters. 289 
 
 only in a canter. Still no man got so much out of 
 all sorts of horses as Lord Forester. It is told of 
 him that he sold a horse which was very difficult to 
 ride. The first time his new owner got on him, he 
 could do nothing with him, and rather remonstrated 
 with his lordship for having sold him an animal he 
 could not ride. " He carried you very well, my lord, 
 but he wont carry me." "Well, sir," was the re- 
 ply, " I sold you a horse, but I didn't sell you horse- 
 manship." 
 
 There have been many modern horses in Leices- 
 tershire little if at all inferior to those whose fame 
 Nimrod made European about 1825. Since then 
 Mr. Little Gilmour has gloried in his cow-hocked, 
 or as some style him, sickle-hocked horse, Vingt- 
 et-un, who was, nevertheless, only a shade better 
 than his grey. The latter has been christened 
 " Lord Grey ;" and with his owner's sixteen-stone 
 hamper on his back, he beat every one out in a 
 very fast thing from Sproxton Thorns to Harby. 
 Lord Gardner, who still adheres to his great 
 axiom of never racing to catch hounds, has never 
 been better carried than by his king of the hog- 
 manes, Dun Clown by Amadis ; and besides Brush, 
 Asmodeus, Pilot, Gipsey King, and Varnish, &c., 
 he has gone especially well on a Whalebone chest- 
 nut and three bays by Mulatto, Brutandorf, and 
 Jack Spigot. Mr. Greene has had three especial 
 favourites, the grey mare who was popularly known 
 as the Timber-mare, from her wonderful clever- 
 ness in that department of hunting science, Mrs. 
 Caudle, and Piccolo ; and although the latter was 
 only fourteen-two, he was not to be beaten over 
 a strong country. None of them were, however, so 
 good as his bay mare, " the swallow on a summer's 
 evening," and at water she was far beyond them all. 
 Lord Cardigan's best horse was The Dandy, but he 
 died from check perspiration on the afternoon of a 
 
 U 
 
290 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 run, in which he swam the Wreake. It was on this 
 magnificent black that his lordship led the field from 
 Lord Aylesford's cover in the Six Hills country to 
 Ranksborough in the Cottesmore thirteen miles as 
 the crow would fly in an hour and five minutes, and 
 never drawing rein but for three minutes, when the 
 hounds checked in Stapleford Park. Lord Water- 
 ford killed his 3OO-guinea, but somewhat under-bred, 
 Dusty Miller in his second or third run, and never 
 went better in his Melton days than he did on The 
 Sea, who won one steeple-chase match under him 
 "without touching a twig." In his lOOO-guinea a side 
 match on Cock Robin against Vyvian, he did not ride 
 so steadily, but let Captain Becher get the high ground 
 close at home, and was beaten some lengths. The 
 four miles were marked out by Mr. Greene (who was 
 at the winning-post with the two thousand guineas in 
 his pocket) from Shankton Holt to the Ram's Head. 
 Cock Robin was a splendid animal and a perfect 
 jumper, but by no means so fast as Vyvian, who had 
 very few signs of the " h. b." about him but his rat 
 tail. Lord Wilton's cracks have included successively 
 Bijou, a bay half-bred mare ; Brilliant, a thorough- 
 bred chestnut, with a flaxen mane and tail (who ori- 
 ginally belong to Sir Francis Goodricke) ; Longtwelves ; 
 Prince, the horse on which he appears in the Melton 
 Hunt picture ; Roland the Brave ; and Pigeon, who 
 has found a grey stable rival in old Wanderer, 
 from the Quorn sale. Prince was fifteen years old 
 when his lordship bought him, and his manner was to 
 gallop over his fences. Great things were vowed in 
 Flacrow's name when he went to meet Vyvian and 
 Jerry in the Leamington country, after his victory of 
 the previous year, in honour of which Mr. William 
 Coke presented Mr. Thomas Haycock, of Owston, the 
 best " brown coat " in Leicestershire for twenty-five 
 years, with a silver shield ; but as a steeple-chaser none 
 of the modern Leicestershire horses have perhaps per- 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 291 
 
 formed so well as Mr. Stirling Craufurd's sherry-bay 
 horse, The Shaver. He was rather high and round in 
 his action, but he could go on till he almost made his 
 opponents lie down. The present Lord Forester has 
 also had a long succession of good horses under him, 
 from Jack and Justice down to Whitelips, Conrad, 
 Cold Port, and Will-o'-the-Wisp. But Dick Christian 
 will have his say about Leicestershire, and here our 
 researches into its horse-history must end. More and 
 more of its pasture-land is being gradually laid under 
 the plough, and the fencing has not decreased in 
 severity since the days when that splendid horseman, 
 Sir James Musgrave (the owner of those two peerless 
 fifteen-three greys, which he scarcely knew from each 
 other), used to declare that he never rode at one of its 
 fences, however big, that, feeling sure of getting over 
 it, he was deceived. Those on the road who watched 
 Mr. Richard Sutton leading the field on Brandy- 
 Face, from Vowes Gorse to Stoke End, with even 
 more than his usual power, over the terrific Key- 
 thorpe country, can make affidavits by the dozen 
 about fences which they dare not look at on their own 
 account ; while Wartnaby's farm, near Clipston, with 
 its spiked gates and mortised rails, still exists to take 
 the conceit out of the present and the rising genera- 
 tion, and " pound " them, as he did their fathers betore 
 them. " They're all welcome to ride over it if they 
 can," was its late owner's boast ; and he always main- 
 tained that "There never were but two men fit to come 
 out hunting Lord Alvanley and ' Gumley Wilson' 
 they were the only men that ever rode straight across 
 my farm." 
 
 Half-bred Arabs are often very clever in the hunt- 
 ing field. They are generally very enduring horses, 
 but with iumpy shoulders, and too fond of going with 
 their heads and tails up. Still Mr Child, of Kinlet, 
 could beat almost everything across Leicestershire on 
 one of them, by Lord Clive's Arabian, in Mr. Mey- 
 
 U 2 
 
292 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 nell's day. Mr. Charles Davis's grey horse Hermit, 
 whom he considers the stoutest and best hunter 
 he ever had, was by an English horse out of an 
 Arabian mare, which was hardly so handsome or so 
 good. Many would have it that Hermit was out of a 
 Trumpator mare, while others equally stoutly asserted 
 that he had a more martial origin, and was out of a 
 trumpeter's mare ! His real history is on this wise. 
 Mr. Gates, who lived at " The Hermitage," in the very 
 heart of that tangled grove of pollard and holly 
 bushes, Brookwood Stumps, near Woking, and was the 
 owner of the roan mare Miss Craven, bought a white 
 Arab mare, which had formerly carried a trumpeter, 
 on his return with a dragoon regiment from India. 
 Luckily he decided to send her to Grey Skim, who 
 then stood at Petworth, and Mr. Davis's never-to-be- 
 forgotten grey was the result. That gentleman 
 bought Hermit at six years old, in 1832, for 150 
 guineas, after he had led gallops for Mr. Gates's racers, 
 and rode him for nine seasons. He then unfortu- 
 nately broke down, after making a deep drop into a 
 lane, with hounds, and it was ascertained that he had 
 broken a small piece of the coffin bone of the near 
 front foot. 
 
 As regards leaping, one of the cleverest things we 
 remember, was done some years since by a Belzoni- 
 bred hunter who had never been known to refuse a 
 fence before. A lad of about fifteen was riding him 
 as straight as an arrow to hounds, and put him at an 
 apparently easy bank and rails, when he suddenly 
 closed up in his stride about twenty yards from it, 
 and refused to face it. On examination, there proved 
 to be an old stone quarry on the other side ; the lad 
 thought it a good joke, but the horse lost all his 
 jumping nerve from that hour. One of the handiest 
 animals we know of, is an old bay horse of Lord 
 Galway's who seems to have the power of a cat in 
 crawling down or up any bank, and leaping any 
 
Breeding of Hu nters. 293 
 
 fence, however crabbed, with or without his rider. In 
 fact, he may almost take rank with Captain Evans' 
 noted retriever " Sam," who could act either as hunts- 
 man or valet, as well as any Christian, with the excep- 
 tion of shaving his master, a point on which Wych- 
 wood authorities still differ respecting him. An 
 immense deal of talk was made about King of the 
 Valley, a sixteen-two grey by Usquebaugh, and with 
 bone like a dray horse, clearing thirty-three feet 
 with Dick Christian on his back over the Billesdon 
 Brook, during a steeple-chase, in 1829 ; but an authen- 
 ticated thirty-four feet was jumped twelve years 
 afterwards by Vanguard, at Rugby, and he does not, 
 we believe, stand alone. Worcestershire claims a 
 similar feat for Vainhope, and we have heard that a 
 Warwickshire horse, Potiphar, also covered that 
 distance. Melton Mowbray used to say that the little 
 piebald Magpie could clear any bar she could walk 
 under ; but the Beverley men have, after all, the most 
 wonderful leaping legend about Euryalus, who jumped 
 out of his box at the Rose and Crown yard, through 
 a window only thirty-three inches by twenty, and four 
 feet and a half from the ground, without leaving a 
 hair on the window frame. His stock did not belie 
 him in the field, and if anyone doubts this feat, let 
 him seek the descendants of the ostler, and he will 
 doubt no longer. It was also the extraordinary style 
 in which he cleared a hurdle on a hedge that in- 
 duced Mr. Mytton to take entirely to Oliver, whom he 
 had only borrowed from his whip, who rode up when 
 his own mare had given him a header in a brook ; and 
 it is recorded in Shropshire that he did really take a 
 lane flying on his one-eyed Baronet, a feat which is 
 generally thought to have been confined to Moon- 
 raker. Will Goodall, who was Mr. Drake's second 
 horseman at thirteen, in a moment of inspiration, 
 once attempted to do the same, and excused him- 
 self, when the master wigged him for giving his 
 
294 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 horse such a cropper, by declaring that he " thought 
 it was a bruk" Will is enthusiastic and brilliant, 
 both in the field and kennel. Fox-hunting his- 
 torians in the 2OOOth century will have rare stories 
 to tell of him. We heard of him leaving his weaned 
 horse in a ditch, casting his hounds in the middle 
 of the next field, and then going back to get 
 him out ; and he twice killed his fox on foot within 
 three months, running on one occasion more than 
 three-quarters of a mile. In the days of his cropped 
 horse by Negotiator, his genius was put to no such 
 straits. 
 
 For the comedy of errors in crossing a country, 
 amateur steeple-chasers are worth watching. None 
 of them have the noted Bill Wright's fine knowledge 
 of the art of being " brought to the post just right" 
 They are either under or over-done. Now, in Mr. 
 W.'s sense of the word, "just right" meant "three 
 parts of a bottle of port wine, two glasses of brandy- 
 and-water, and a pipe." When he was fairly " in con- 
 dition!' he spurned the idea of reconnoitring the 
 
 ground. " the ground," said he; "looking at 
 
 another glass of brandy-and-water, will do me more 
 good than that." We saw one of them so des- 
 perately flurried at taking the lead and winning, 
 that he stuck to it, when he went to scale, that there 
 had been no brook in the race, although he had 
 cleared it in fine style with both stirrups flying. 
 Another, too, who, by-the-bye, was a coroner, of all 
 people, after giving his antagonist such a cannon at a 
 fence, that the two came down together, sailed past 
 us over a couple of fields, and then found out that he 
 was on a bay horse instead of the brown mare on which 
 he started. The strongest piece of horsemanship we 
 remember, was James Mason, that Emperor of steeple- 
 chase riders past and present, recovering Lansquinet 
 when he made a mistake in a Hippodrome steeple- 
 chase ; and Earl Fitzhardinge will bear us out that 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 295 
 
 Mr. Allen M'Donogh was equally great in a similar 
 difficulty at a gate, when he rode Sir William for a 
 Cheltenham steeple-chase. It was curious to note the 
 difference of temperament between Mason and poor 
 William M'Donogh when they jumped into the corner 
 of the last field, at the Dunchurch steeple-chase of 
 1839, at th e same instant. The latter in hot Irish 
 haste drove The Nun slantways across ridge and fur- 
 row, the nearest cut to the winning flags, pumping the 
 wind out of her at every stroke, while Mason cantered 
 along the bottom furrow till he got to the one run- 
 ning straight up to the flags, and then sent Lottery 
 out like a shot, and beat the mare a good two lengths. 
 Lord Waterford's Blueskin, however, should not be 
 forgotten among steeple-chasers, as with his " owner 
 up," and at all weights from I3st. 7lbs. to I2st, he won 
 three four-mile steeple-chases successively against 
 fresh horses, one afternoon, at Eglington Park, in 
 
 1843. 
 
 Sir Charles Knightley's leap of thirty-one feet over 
 a fence and brook, just below Brixworth-hill, has ever 
 since gone by the name of " Knightley's leap." It 
 was accomplished, we believe, on his celebrated black 
 horse Benvolio ; but he was on his nearly as famous 
 bay Sir Marinel when he led Mr. Gurney on Sober 
 Robin over a gate, such as a nineteen-stone man 
 has never yet jumped, and never will again. The 
 Pytcheley had a fast thing from a gorse of the baro- 
 net's, at Dodford, and ran to the Nen, near Heyford 
 village, where there is a bridge across the river, and 
 a six-barred locked gate in the middle of it. They 
 were just running into their fox, about 200 yards 
 ahead, when Sir Charles, with Mr. Gurney about as 
 far behind him, reached the gate. Finding it locked, 
 he turned his horse round and went over it, and to 
 his amazement, as he glanced back, the Norfolk 
 welter and his horse were in the air. Fortune fa- 
 voured them, and although Robin rapped it like 
 
296 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 thunder with every leg, they landed safe. " What do 
 you think of that ?" was the question put to Parson 
 Walker, who wouldn't have charged a hurdle for a 
 bishopric, at a county table that evening and "Why, 
 that my friend Dick has more guts than brains /" was 
 the prompt reply. This leap made quite " a sensa- 
 tion" in the neighbourhood, and was visited by hun- 
 dreds for many a week. Benvolio and Sir Marinel 
 were a very different style of horse, and while the 
 former was bigger and better through dirt, he was not 
 so uniformly to be depended on for temper. At first 
 he would not fence at all, and it was only after a very 
 long coaxing match at Pytcheley, commenced before 
 luncheon, and concluded after, that he was induced 
 to take his maiden fence. Even in his zenith, he 
 would suddenly decline a fence, after leading the first 
 flight for a quarter of an hour, and the two were left 
 alone. In spite of this drawback, which lost Sir 
 Charles several good runs, when he had to give him 
 up (after eight seasons) he always said that he could 
 never find real pleasure in riding another. He was 
 bought out of Robson's stable at Newmarket, where 
 Sir Charles often repaired during the meetings, to 
 look, among the ruck in a race, for a thorough-bred 
 hunter to his mind. Frank Buckle had ridden him 
 on one occasion, and it was by his advice that he was 
 purchased in the spring of 1811 for 300 guineas, or 
 100 guineas less than the smarter-looking and higher- 
 actioned Sir Marinel. Northamptonshire was distin- 
 guished in after-years as the birthplace of Mameluke 
 and of Harriet, the dam of Plenipo, the former of 
 whom saw the light at the paddocks of Mr. Elwes, 
 who was long confederate with Lord Jersey ; and it 
 was from the blood of Boadicea, own sister to its 
 great hunting crack, that Touchstone sprang. Sir 
 Charles's riding of Benvolio had become such a 
 Northamptonshire proverb during the first 1811-12 
 season, that General Grosvenor, through whom he 
 
Breeding of Hun ters. 297 
 
 had originally bought the horse from the late Lord 
 Wilton, happening to be at a sale in Cheshire in the 
 spring of the latter year, gave 150 guineas for her, 
 and sent her to Sir Charles, with, we believe, a filly 
 at her foot. Her new owner got her into condition ; 
 but although she became very handy, she was hardly 
 up to his weight, and he accordingly gave her away 
 to Lord Spencer, who was then master of the Pytche- 
 ley, and whose huntsman, Charles King, she carried 
 splendidly for four seasons. Eventually she went to 
 Tattersall's with Lord Spencer's other horses, and 
 Lady Westminster ordered her to be bought for her 
 for 100 guineas, in consequence of having been bred 
 by her father. She was a mean little mare, with none 
 of the appearance of the thorough-bred, about fifteen 
 hands high, tail low set on, extraordinarily wide in the 
 hips, and in at the elbows. Except when in constant 
 work, and rather in fine condition, she carried her 
 saddle on her shoulders, and her action was perfect 
 both with fore and hind legs. She was about twenty 
 years old when she threw Banter to Master Henry, 
 who was bred by Mr. Lechmere Charlton in the 
 Ludlow country, and through this foal she became 
 grandam to Touchstone and Launcelot, and great 
 grandam to Satirist. Camel, the sire of the two 
 former, was supposed to be the quickest of the Whale- 
 bones, but he was generally lame, and his real form 
 was never known. Touchstone's old Eton friend, 
 Pantaloon, had not many half-bred mares while he 
 was at Cawston paddocks, but The Clown, of Melton 
 steeple-chase fame, was one of the produce. Cattonite 
 has also left some powerful but coarse stock in War- 
 wickshire, where the Black Princes and Retrievers are 
 coming forward. The chestnut was one of the neatest 
 of the neat, and the black-brown, a son of Touchstone 
 and Queen of Trumps, took especially after the male 
 side of his house in look, and is blessed with a gentle 
 temper and a rare barrel, though his legs are hardly 
 
298 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 so stout timbered as we expected to see them. Their 
 neighbour, Meteor, will have a hard task to follow 
 Belzoni, and if his stock grow up like himself, great 
 bone and power, combined with plainish foreheads, 
 Roman noses, and chestnut skins, will not perish out 
 of the neighbourhood of Lutterworth. From the sires 
 which the Duke of Richmond, the late Lord Egre- 
 mont, and Sir John Shelley brought into the county, 
 the principal jumping blood of Sussex is derived ; 
 and Gohanna, Grey Skim, and Whalebone were only 
 three out of a host which all tenanted the Petworth 
 paddocks in their turn, and whose descendants have 
 worked their way to the fore, like those of their 
 kennel brethren the Justices, and the Jaspers, in many 
 an English hunting-field. Whalebone was sold at 
 Tattersall's for 500 guineas to the Duke of Grafton 
 after Lord Egremont's death, and he was generally 
 thought a plainish-looking horse with decidedly small 
 feet. This was the great failing of Soothsayer, who 
 had one of the finest tops that ever fell to a horse's 
 lot, combined with feet little bigger than a mule's. 
 He was one of the descendants of Sorcerer, who sadly 
 poisoned the breed of horses, as far as soundness goes. 
 His stock had very great speed, and he got many of 
 the best racers of the day ; but nearly all of them 
 were infirm after a certain time. He was upright in 
 his pasterns and light in his ankles, and never, that 
 we heard of, got a hunter worth a farthing. The 
 Sorcerer mares threw many very good foals, but 
 they were chiefly put to the horse at four or five 
 years old. 
 
 In the first quarter of the century, Norfolk had 
 an almost European fame for its strong-made, short- 
 legged hackneys, which ranged from fourteen-three 
 to fifteen-two, and could walk five miles an hour, and 
 trot at the rate of twenty. Fireaway, Marshland 
 Shales, and The Norfolk Cob were locomotive giants 
 in those days, and the latter was the sire of Pheno- 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 299 
 
 menon, who was sold into Scotland when he had seen 
 his twentieth summer, and astonished his " canny" 
 admirers by trotting two miles in six minutes. The 
 few left are descended from these breeds, but as 
 they arrive at maturity they are sold to go abroad, 
 mostly to France. Four or five very good hackney 
 sires remain in the county, and among them a roan 
 of Mr. Baxter's, for which 500 guineas is said to have 
 been refused. The chestnut Prickwillow reaches about 
 the same fifteen-two standard ; and a son of his, out 
 of, we believe, a very noted mare of Mr. Cooke of 
 Litcham's, which is said to have never been " out- 
 stepped," is also highly spoken of. Mr. Wright's 
 bay combines an inch more size, with rare action ; 
 and a black fourteen-two cob of Mr. Baldwin's 
 earned a much more worthy mention than we can 
 give him, by winning the first hackney-stallion prize 
 at the '55 Norfolk Agricultural Show. Lord Hast- 
 ings had also two hackney stallions of the Fireaway 
 breed, which are occasionally seen in harness ; and 
 his horse Beehunter, so famed for his Clincher and 
 Knight of Avenel struggles, is well adapted for a 
 cross with the agricultural mares (as strong and active 
 a colony of bays and browns as any country can 
 show), which are almost the only ones left to plod 
 over this great sheep and partridge preserve of the 
 East. Tom Moody, dam by Smolensko, and the 
 winner of the 3O/. Hunter Stallion Prize at the 
 '55 Royal Agricultural Show, by The Flyer, has 
 long since earned his laurels there ; and besides a 
 number of valuable hunters and harness horses, 
 Sebastopol, who went to the King of Sardinia's 
 stable for 500 guineas, and the Unfortunate Youth, 
 must be placed to his credit-side. The latter, whose 
 stock have abundance of size and good looks, derived 
 his name from his having been injured in his youth 
 by the bite of a boar, which rendered him lame for 
 life : a catastrophe which furnishes a grand historical 
 
300 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 parallel to that of poor Gameboy and the scythe, or 
 the horse of an unhappy clerical friend of ours, which 
 nerved itself as effectually as a V.C. lancet could have 
 done it, by treading on the handle of an axe, that lay 
 across its path in an inn archway. 
 
 Hampshire is not a great hunter-breeding country, 
 and many of its best young horses reach Collins 
 through Mr. Henry Barnes, the dealer, of Andover. 
 Mr. Assheton Smith's stud, of which Apsley (who 
 was bought from Lord Bathurst), Escape, The 
 Sultan, Raglan, &c., are among the best known, used 
 to be purchased principally from Tom Smart of 
 Crickdale ; but since his death, Mr. Smith princi- 
 pally dealt with Mr. Reeves, of Marlborough. The 
 crack home-bred Hampshire horses are decidedly 
 the Safeguards and the Bowstrings. " Etwall's old 
 horse," as he is always called, is quite a county 
 hero, and returned some three or four seasons ago 
 to his Longstock quarters. Hence a second series 
 of big fifteen-three, weight-carrying, dark chestnut 
 hunters, with white blazes and remarkably fine 
 tempers in the field, are coming forward. Safeguard 
 himself is quite blind, but his stock have not that 
 fatal heritage. The Bowstrings are much of the 
 same stamp dark chestnuts, but more whole-coloured 
 than the Safeguards, and there are a great number 
 of them in the Stockbridge district. He was sub- 
 sequently sold into Devonshire for 300 guineas. 
 
 It is only lately that the farmers of Suffolk have 
 bred from thorough-bred horses to any extent ; and 
 when the late " Squire Jenney," as he was always 
 called, brought St. Hubert from Newmarket (where 
 they principally hunt on retired racers), about 1825, 
 they would hardly look at him, much more use 
 him. However, after seeing him hunted some 
 seasons with The Squire's "merry harriers," they 
 began to think better of him. He was a chestnut 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 301 
 
 horse, by Williamson's Ditto out of Mockbird's dam, 
 and got some famous hunters, with fine size, espe- 
 cially good shoulders, and deep ribs, but rather 
 inclined to have long lop-eared heads. The best 
 mares in the Suffolk breeders' hands are his daugh- 
 ters, who, like himself, were never tired in the 
 longest day. St. Hubert, who died in 1842, was not 
 at all unlike Rataplan, and may be described as a 
 strong horse with rather a straight and low-put-on 
 fore-end, but with the best of shoulders behind it ; he 
 went in a low, striding, swinging sort of way, not 
 pleasing to the dealer's fancy, but good action for 
 a hunter nevertheless. About 1842 Lord Strad- 
 broke had Alpheus, by Sultan out of Arethusa, by 
 Quiz, at Henham. He was a chestnut horse, with 
 some white on his legs, and particularly good action ; 
 in short, a nice round-made level-looking animal, who 
 got some very good and high-priced horses, and 
 clever natural jumpers, although their shoulders were 
 a shade too heavy. Some of them, however, were 
 badly whited about no great recommendation in a 
 purchaser's eyes, except for a hunter or park hack ; 
 but many of the best horses ever bred in Suffolk were 
 got by him, and from their good action they were 
 " good to sell." 
 
 Lory, another son of Williamson's Ditto, was 
 bought at the sale of the late Mr. Wilson of Bilderton 
 (who owned Smolensko, and a succession of higher- 
 class sires), by a coach proprietor at Ipswich, and 
 covered a few years in this district. He got some very 
 good hunters, and as stout as those of his half-brother, 
 St. Hubert. Unfortunately he was stone blind, hav- 
 ing become so, we have heard, after some very severe 
 race, and many of his colts were afterwards similarly 
 affected. He finally ran leader in the old Ipswich 
 and London " Shannon" for many years, and is 
 still remembered as a little wiry horse, with a 
 
302 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 straight neck. Young Whisker, by Whisker out of 
 Memina, travelled this country about 1838-1842 ; 
 and coming from Lord Stradbroke's just after 
 the Alpheus colts were selling well, he had a 
 great run of popularity, and actually died from 
 over-service. His colts, however, though wiry and 
 saleable, were soft and bad as hunters, probably 
 from his Smolensko blood. He had been severely 
 injured in a wire fence in Lord Stradbroke's park, 
 when a yearling, which prevented his being trained, 
 and thus he came to travel the country at an 
 early age. After this, Lord Stradbroke's Sycophant, 
 by Muley, out of Clare by Marmion, came out, one 
 of the greatest peacocks that man ever saw, and the 
 largest thorough-bred horse too ; in short, a fine 
 coach-horse looking animal, with an extraordinarily 
 high fore-end, and feet like cheese-plates, which he 
 dished about sadly as he went along. The farmers 
 were delighted with him, and he got some coach and 
 cab horses for London, but they were rather of the 
 flatcatcher sort, and, like himself, often made a noise 
 in the world. The bad success of these colts at last 
 somewhat sickened farmers of breeding from a " blood 
 hoss." " If such a fine animal as Sycophant," they 
 argued, " could not get horses to pay, what could ?" 
 He eventually went to Russia, after having no mares 
 here for a season or two, and it is to be hoped 
 they liked him ; still, to give him his due, he got a 
 fair racehorse in Tufthunter. Sir R. S. Adair had 
 a small horse called Linkboy, by Caesar out of Bril- 
 liant, by Lamplighter, for some years, who has got 
 some good chargers and harness horses. Mr. J. G. 
 Sheppard (at Ash High House) kept old Lamplighter, 
 who was quite a model, for a season or two, about 
 1835 ; but he had but few mares, and being over 
 twenty years old, the colts he left were small, though 
 very handsome and wiry. The late Sir Edward 
 Gooch bought Weatherbit for 2OO/. from the Duke of 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 303 
 
 Bedford, and after having him a season at Benacre, 
 Weathergage came out, and then the Duke hired him 
 back for two seasons, giving Sir Edward the use of 
 Oakley in his place as well. The former was sold 
 at Tattersall's for 400 guineas, after 1000 guineas 
 had, it is said, been refused for him. He is rather 
 deficient in action, and tied in his shoulders, which 
 are short and small, but especially handsome and 
 good in his hind-quarters. We thought, as we 
 looked him over in his Tattersall's box, that we 
 had seldom seen quarters descend so gracefully 
 into the thighs, which are, by-the-bye, a little too 
 straight for a hill. Among the lights of other days 
 in Suffolk we must not forget the half-bred " Cook's 
 Pioneer," by Pioneer, whose hunting stock were 
 hasty and hardy to a degree. Oakley is a showy 
 but light horse, which accounts for the fact that he 
 never could get much beyond the T.Y.C. in his racing 
 days. 
 
 Captain Barlow, of Hasketon, near Woodbridge, 
 had a succession of sound blood sires through his 
 hands ; among others, Minotaur, Sotterly, Robinson, 
 Haxby, Wollaton, The Caster, and now a chestnut 
 horse by Recovery, dam by Hampton, who is perfect 
 in symmetry, but not very big. He was Sir 
 Tatton Sykes's favourite hack, and has the honour of 
 being painted with him in Grant's picture, the good 
 old baronet having ridden him from Sledmere to Lon- 
 don in 1850 on purpose ! Elevated by the honour, or 
 the previous sight of his sire's model in the city, the 
 little horse was very riotous in Rotton Row on this 
 occasion ; and he was equally gay when the late Tom 
 Carter, the huntsman, who was no feather, rode him 
 with the baronet's pack. Minotaur left but few foals 
 a bad fault in a stallion but the few he did get 
 were good and wiry, but rather high on the leg. The 
 stock of the others, Robinson's excepted, had not 
 been tried. Poor old Robinscn, who died of inflam- 
 
304 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 mation in Captain Barlow's hands about 1853, 
 well known in the East Riding as perhaps the very 
 best hunter-getter they ever had. After winning 
 twenty-five races he won ten premiums, and his colts 
 for years carried off all the prizes at the East Riding 
 shows, as well as the highest prices at the Horncastle 
 and Howden fairs. Mr. James Hall had a succes- 
 sion of splendid hunters by him in his stud for many 
 years, and he purchased the Hunter Prize colt at 
 the 1855 "Royal Agricultural," which was also one 
 of his family, for 250 guineas. They are short- 
 legged, with great substance, good colours, and " so 
 selling-looVimg ;" flashy fore-ends and clever heads, 
 with the handsomest possible hind-quarters, and 
 " flags" which they invariably carry away naturally, 
 without that abominable " spice." As we once heard 
 a Yorkshire dealer say of them, " They save a man io/. 
 a year in ginger !" If his colts had a fault, it was that 
 they were a little apt to be pigeon-toed, and their 
 hocks stood rather far behind them ; but, take him for 
 all and all, Suffolk can never supply his place with a 
 better. 
 
 The farmers have still a lingering love for the cock- 
 tail stallion, with the Rainbow neck and flowing 
 mane ; and if such a Fireaway should pass their gate, 
 they will be sure to use him, rather than send a mile 
 or two to a better horse. Generally speaking, they 
 dislike breeding " riders," as they call them ; and 
 when we consider the great prices they have made 
 of their Suffolk cart stock, as foals, yearlings, and 
 two-year-olds, while they must keep their "riders" till 
 four years old, this prejudice is not to be wondered 
 at. Suffolk farms, too, are mostly small, and con- 
 veniences for keeping riding colts till four or five 
 years old very limited ; besides, looking at the half- 
 bred stallions they have bred from, it is not surprising 
 they should be disgusted with the result. They might, 
 with care, surely shine as much in riding-horse!: as in 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 305 
 
 cart-horses, and they certainly are improving. Still, 
 their young things do not seem to get the size their 
 Northern brethren do, perhaps owing in a manner to 
 the dry soil and air of the East of England. Their 
 cart stock are small, compact, and hardy ; and any 
 recruiting sergeant will say that the Suffolk lads are 
 proverbially small, though strong. The " riders" bred 
 are mostly wiry and good, and when ridden over this 
 cramped and thickly-fenced country become very 
 clever, and sought after accordingly by the dealers 
 (Mr. Collins especially), who are almost the only cus- 
 tomers, at all prices from 75/. to 2OO/. Still there has 
 been no particular breeder of hunters since the late 
 Mr. Jenney's death, and there are but few good 
 mares. A few have been brought from the North, but 
 generally Cleveland mares, with coaching shoulders 
 a mistake in a county where they so seldom get the 
 size for a coach horse, and had better try for hunters 
 and hacks. 
 
 Go where you will, you always find some one who 
 wants a good hunter or a good hack ; but although 
 every one wants either one or the other, few will take 
 the trouble to breed one. Many have not the con- 
 veniences, and many think they may not live long 
 enough to ride one they do breed. The wonder is, 
 not that there are so few riding horses, but that there 
 are so many. All people in these days look to a 
 quick return ; and as a riding horse is at least five 
 years old before he is worth anything, they think it 
 " a bad spec," and too long to look forward. There 
 are plenty of race horses, cart horses, and coach horses 
 bred ; and the why and wherefore is, because they 
 come quickly into use. A racing colt is put into 
 training at twenty months old ; a good cart colt is 
 worth at least 35 guineas at a year old ; and the 
 London coach horses, by thorough-bred horses out of 
 Clydesdale or Cleveland mares, are bought by the 
 dealer at three years old at an average price of 100 
 
 X 
 
306 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 guineas. As regards the two latter descriptions, the 
 mares are put to the horse before they are three years 
 old, and don't " lie rest" more than two months in the 
 year ; and, being young, throw strong healthy foals. 
 Still, even when they have plenty of good blood- 
 horses to pick from, farmers are sadly careless what 
 their mares go to. We have too often seen them flock, 
 for the sake of saving a guinea or two, to one of the 
 seventeen hands clothes-horse kind, with legs like 
 stilts, a middle like a tobacco-pipe, and a back of a 
 length which would put him at a premium in the 
 Portsmouth market, where sailors are popularly sup- 
 posed to consider it a great point gained in their 
 equestrian exercises if five can " get on deck" at one 
 time. As to hunters, the great majority are not in 
 the market till they are sufficiently grazed and have 
 their " mouths up ;" but purchasers little think how- 
 many of their " five year olds" are only four, and 
 some little more than three. It is, we regret to say, a 
 notorious fact that this rascally system of " forwarding 
 the mouth," which was first commenced in the North, 
 has struck root very widely of late. 
 
 But a truce to such homilies on the " Night-side of 
 Nature." We must go back once more into North- 
 amptonshire, and say a word on Earl Fitzwilliam's 
 hunting stable-blood, which is principally derived 
 from his Amadis, a powerful staring big-boned horse, 
 but neither very deep nor big in the body. His stock 
 were all very noble-looking and fine-bottomed ; and 
 Patriot, a light-bodied sixteen-hand, whole black with 
 the exception of the near hind-foot, was the flower of 
 the basket. Tom Sebright, who completed his thirty- 
 fifth season at Milton, March, 1857, had only two 
 falls off him during their eleven seasons ; and Patriot 
 roamed about the park at Milton as a superannuated 
 pensioner till he was rising twenty-four. He was 
 wont often to steal close up to the dining-room 
 window, and thrust in his flesh-coloured nose for a 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 307 
 
 greeting ; and one morning in 1851 or 1852, he 
 lay down and died in sight of it. He was origi- 
 nally bought from a tenant, and was a much plea- 
 santer horse to ride than the warm and fidgetty 
 Martingale by The Saddler, on whom Tom appears 
 in his son's well-known picture of the Milton pack. 
 The chestnut Reformer was another very good son of 
 Amadis, and among the Earl's other favourites may 
 be reckoned Little John, by St. Paul, who unfortu- 
 nately broke his leg ; Don Quixote ; Zara, the gran- 
 dam of Don Quixote ; Asplendion, by Cervantes ; 
 Tanner, by Cervantes, and bred by Mr. Russell, a 
 Yorkshire tenant (who also bred and sold Patriot to 
 his lordship) ; Tenerchiffe, by Smolensko ; Camel- 
 leopard, by Don Quixote ; and a Quiterza mare, by 
 Cervantes, for which he refused Lord Exeter's offer of 
 a thousand guineas, when his hounds met one morning 
 near Burleigh. The latter had no luck in breeding, 
 and kicked her first foal's eye out. Confederate was 
 another of the Earl's well-known sires, but his stock 
 were nearly all roarers, and his career was cut short 
 by a kick from a recusant mare. Sandbeck was un- 
 fortunately sold for ninety guineas when his fame as* a 
 hunter-sire was unmade ; and Humphrey Clinker (the 
 sire of Melbourne), a fine big close-ribbed short- 
 backed fellow, with a trifle too much leg, but a splen- 
 did middle-piece, also left for Ireland, and was bought 
 back shortly after by the late Mr. Allen, of Malton, 
 the Earl's agent, for himself. Zara was by Camel- 
 leopard out of an Amadis mare, and it was upon her 
 that Tom Sebright finished his celebrated Hunt's 
 Closes run in 1837, when the grey horse on which he 
 commenced threw a shoe. . The late Lords Liverpool 
 and Milton were both out that day ; and Mr. J. 
 Walker, of Eaton, also went wonderfully well on an 
 Amadis mare. When Bedford was past, the veteran 
 Mr. Magniac called to Sebright, " Why, Tom, we're 
 going to London ;" and Tom, whose mare could now 
 
 X 2 
 
308 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 hardly raise a trot, made reply, " Yes, sir, I think 
 we're driving on that way." Only six, including 
 Sebright, who got first to the hounds, saw the finish 
 of this run, of which the following is the official 
 account : 
 
 " The meet was at By thorn Toll-bar. We tried and found a fox at 
 Raund's Meadow, ran him a ring of twenty minutes, and then a second 
 ring of fifteen minutes. The hounds were then stopped and taken 
 away, as we were afraid of spoiling a good day's sport with bad foxes. 
 We then trotted off to Hunt's Closes, when a good fox was found im- 
 mediately, and went away in view ; ran by Covington, leaving Dean 
 village on the left and Swineshead on the right, through the Wood and 
 Keyso Park, over Thurleigh parish by the Gorse, and through the 
 spinneys to Ravensden Grange. Here, owing to an unfortunate view, 
 the hounds ran their fox heel way, and could not be stopped till they 
 got back to the cover. Once put right, we went over Renhold parish 
 into Goldington field, and had the town of Bedford in front of us. We 
 went down Goldington field, leaving the village on our right, the fox 
 evidently pointing to the river Ouse, but turned to the left, across 
 Hunting Park, over the parish of Great Barford, by Green-end, Birch- 
 field, and Roxton Spinneys : and when near Chawson the hounds were 
 stopped. The fox was killed by some workpeople with a timber-cart, 
 about a mile from where the hounds were whipped off. We were then 
 forty miles from home, and so much tired that we were obliged to stop 
 at the Cock at Eaton all night, and returned home on Sunday morning 
 through a most violent storm of snow and hail. The distance, as near 
 as could be guessed, was about twenty-five miles, and was done in two 
 hours and forty minutes." 
 
 Lord Exeter's racing blood is to be found not only 
 in Northamptonshire, but in many of the hunting 
 stables in Berwickshire and North Northumberland 
 (which still remember the dead Rocket, and boast of 
 the equally famous Charley-boy), as Mr Robertson 
 of Ladykirk had both his Patron and Dardanelles. 
 Lamplighter was also bought by this gentleman at 
 Lord Berners' sale ; The Colonel, too, had his turn 
 there ; Rodomeli, who looks up to sixteen-three with 
 hounds, was one of his latest importations, at, we be- 
 lieve 300 guineas ; and Harkaway, who was bought 
 for 100 guineas less, was proxy for Little Known, 
 who owns no superior as a hunter-sire. The old 
 " Fergusson chestnut's" stock are generally chestnuts 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 309 
 
 of fine substance, like himself, and Tom Ball declared 
 that his Harkover carried him quite as well as even 
 his beloved Grouse or King Pepin. 
 
 Hunter-breeding at Badminton is not now con- 
 ducted on such an extensive scale as formerly. Black 
 Sultan, the pride of Shropshire, came there for two 
 seasons, and was then sold, when he was rising 
 twenty-eight, to a resident in Bristol. He was a 
 fifteen-three horse himself, handsome and stylish- 
 looking, but with thin thighs, and his stock all ran 
 about an inch less. One of them, a fourteen and a 
 half black hack, especially distinguished himself 
 across country, and earned an honourable mention 
 in the Badminton hunting song. Will Long rode 
 another of his get, St. Paul ; and the late Duke was 
 very fond of his son Rubens, as he could indulge 
 on him to the full in his favourite mode of letting 
 the reins lie on his neck, and larruping his laziness 
 along. "The Squire" rode Rubens once, and de- 
 clared he was never on a more idle but enduring 
 horse the same at night as in the morning. It was 
 in this country, in " a sharp, short, and decisive" thing 
 of fifteen minutes over walls, from Aston Gorse to 
 Farmington Gorse, that the Squire led on Grimaldi, 
 who was bred by the late Mr. Clifford, of Swell Bowte, 
 in Gloucestershire. Will Long on Draper, however, 
 lived with the grey, as well as another individual, who 
 vexed " The Squire" so deservedly by riding among 
 the hounds, that he complained to the Duke of him 
 when he came up, and offered to have him " anywhere 
 you like pistol or fists," with all that fine pluck 
 which came so well to his rescue a quarter of a cen- 
 tury after, when a number of " riflemen" were begin- 
 ning to hustle him at Doncaster. Steeple had his 
 day, and Worcester was nearly the last horse the late 
 Duke rode ; and Lion, whom he bought from Mr. 
 Niblett, of the White Lion at Bristol, and whom he 
 would suffer no one else to ride, his very hst. Lop, 
 
3 ro The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 by Crop, came before Black Sultan, and was the most 
 successful sire they ever had. The sixth Duke's True 
 Blue was by him, and so was Philip Payne's favourite 
 grey, Cherrington, which he rode for some eighteen 
 seasons. In fact, early in the present century, half 
 the stud were Lops, grey like the old horse, and as 
 neat as pictures. The hounds were not exactly to 
 match, as although they were very fine and powerful, 
 they had not that genteel appearance which Will 
 Long, by immense attention to lines of blood, gra- 
 dually introduced. His Grace was also very fond of 
 Percy, a chestnut stallion of nearly seventeen hands 
 high. Will Stansby whipped in to Will Long on him, 
 and when his day was over the farmers bred very 
 extensively from him. Tamburino, a very fine- 
 tempered animal, came before Wandering Boy by 
 Langar, who carried Will Long for four seasons, and 
 then broke the small bone of his hind leg. Among 
 Will's other pets (during the forty-eight years he wore 
 the Badminton green, ten as second whip, eight as 
 first, and thirty as huntsman) were four Lops to wit, 
 Nora, Dairymaid (the dam of Milkman), Little Girl, 
 great at water, and Gawky, the heroine of the twenty- 
 mile Stanton Park day. Fond as he was of Bertha, 
 after whom his cottage on the confines of Bad- 
 minton Park is named, Milkman was the one Will 
 loved best to reserve for the lawn meets ; and in 
 his 1844 speech, when a testimonial plate was pre- 
 sented to him, he calculated that this horse had carried 
 him about thirteen thousand miles during their seven- 
 teen seasons, and that those who could keep up with 
 him, though then in his twenty-fourth year, " would 
 not lose much of the fun." This celebrated bay was 
 by Shirza out of a Lop mare ; but his half-brother, 
 Gimcrack, who was as grey as the Shirzas generally 
 were, was much below his form. Sir Richard Sutton's 
 nimble giant, Hotspur, was bred by the late Duke. 
 He became latterly most dreadfully crooked in the 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 311 
 
 knees, and was sold, we believe, for something under 
 ioo/. to Mr. James Mason, at Tattersall's. 
 
 Of the breed of Spangle, the darling of Jem Hills' 
 heart, we have no trace, but simply know that he 
 was purchased from Mr. Tilbury. Jem afterwards 
 rode Sailor and Betsy Baker, both fine sixteen- 
 handers, but not so far bred, and decidedly not up to 
 Spangle's mark. Blood Royal has never had a rival 
 in the Berkeley stud, although he was in his prime 
 as far back as 1815. He was purchased from the 
 Rev. R. Winniatt, of Guiting Grange, Gloucester- 
 shire, and was a very superior horse to Imperial 
 Tom, although tradition has somehow or other invo- 
 luntarily connected the two. Long head, thin neck, 
 great shoulders, very deep back ribs and immense 
 quarters, on a dark bay sixteen-hand frame, were his 
 leading features ; and Gloucestershire hunting men 
 still say that they never hope to see such a model 
 again. Besides these, the Earl has ridden Lunatic, 
 Manchester, and Harkaway, a very smart Irish horse, 
 but with hardly the power of the other two, Meg (a 
 grey mare), Pedestrian, and The Farmer. The last- 
 named, who always ranked in his noble owner's esti- 
 mation next to Blood Royal, was purchased from 
 Captain Marriott, of Avon Bank, near Pershore, and 
 was a fifteen-two hunter model, remarkably beautiful 
 in every part except his ears. A powerful, dark-chest- 
 nut gelding, Radical, by Polygar, who stood over at the 
 knee from four years old, was the apple of Harry 
 Ayris's eye, and carried him for ten seasons. Among 
 this noted huntsman's other first-class horses were 
 Vizor, by Smuggler ; Queen of Diamonds, by the King 
 of Diamonds ; Downright, by Bobadil, the very type 
 of a bay hunter, with nothing white about him, but a 
 few odd hairs in his tail; his half-sister Drawing Room, 
 by Maresfield ; Michael Wood, by The Sailor out of 
 a hackney mare ; and Sapphaddin, by Saracen, who 
 stood in 1856 at Berkeley. 
 
312 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 From Gloucestershire we must now cross the 
 country to Staffordshire, where Old King Cole begot 
 a generation of fifteen and a half black-legged bays, 
 rare jumpers, but with high tempers and heavy fore- 
 hands, and not fit for hunting work much before they 
 were six. Accident, who was by Camel out of Miss 
 Breeze by Phantom, had no great chance, as cart mares 
 and common stock principally attended his levees ; 
 still, as a general thing, the produce were big good 
 class bays and browns, with abundance of symmetry 
 and bone, which showed that the old Phantom blood 
 would tell. Parson Harvey used always to swear by 
 Phantom as a hunter sire, and he was very anxious 
 that Will Butler in his younger days should take the 
 horse off his hands, and keep a farm. The parson at 
 a meet was " a caution to see." His hunters were 
 always in the straw-yard, and the sire, Vandyke, did 
 all manner of work. In fact, it was "a season" of 
 some sort or other with him the whole year round. 
 He would send him on to the meet in a curb bridle 
 and an old cloth for a sheet, and then follow with his 
 saddle in his Scotch cart, tilt it up in some field, 
 leaving the cart horse and the groom to graze and 
 ruminate together till he returned. At the meet, too, 
 he was never quiet for an instant, as he always kept 
 his horse stepping round and round in a ring, and pour- 
 ing forth meanwhile a perfect torrent of conversation 
 over his shoulder. But that dark thin ex-divine must 
 not make us linger or forget Cheshire and its horses, 
 amongst whom, Speculator with his stock, small but 
 stout as steel, Sir Oliver with his slashing and rather 
 leggy browns, and Cheshire Cheese with his thick and 
 stout descendants, take brevet rank. Astbury, who 
 ran that unparalleled trio of four-mile dead heats over 
 the Newcastle-under-Lyme racecourse, was, to use 
 the phrase of his district, " a lost horse," as so few 
 good mares came to his paddocks, but still he left 
 several stout rather leggy and wonderfully game 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 3 1 3 
 
 horses behind him. It would have been enough for 
 his fame to have been the sire of Joe Maiden's cele- 
 brated Pevorett, a fine sixteen-hand bay with a short 
 back and fore-ends, always " blowing his nose," as 
 high-couraged horses invariably do, and obliged to be 
 muzzled even after a hard Cheshire day, for fear he 
 should eat his litter. He was bred by Mr. James 
 Pevor, steward to Mr. Wilbraham, of Delamere Forest, 
 and was purchased by Joe Maiden for the hunt at 35/. 
 His price had been 8o/., but as he was always a clumsy 
 roadster, he fell and broke his knees on the road to 
 Nantwich fair. A few days after his disaster, he 
 jumped out of his paddock when he heard the hounds 
 cub-hunting in Delamere Forest, and ran loose by 
 Joe's side all day, as if inviting a closer acquaintance. 
 This was a Saturday, and he was caught amid the 
 scenes of his future labours on Monday, at Whetnall 
 Wood, and soon found his way to the Cheshire Hunt 
 stables. He never gave Joe a fall during the eight 
 seasons he rode him ; and besides his endless bottom, 
 he always seemed able to make a second effort, an 
 invaluable knack in a horse who had to carry a 
 huntsman over the Vale of Chester, where the 
 doubles nearly all measure nine yards. It used to 
 be a saying in the Hunt, as the hounds trotted up, 
 " Ay ! look out ! here's Maiden on Pevorett ! " and 
 there they were certain to be together, year after 
 year, at the Stamford Bridge fixture, which always 
 stood for the day after the Liverpool steeple-chase. 
 The late Lord Delamere thought so highly of the pah 
 that he offered to run them for a thousand guineas 
 a side against any man and horse in England four miles 
 over Cheshire. Still there were men in the Hunt 
 who could go with them, and Joe was fairly collared 
 one day by Mr. Wilbraham Tollemache (who always 
 loved rushing, pulling horses), just at the finish of a 
 very capital run from Combermere Abbey to near 
 Whitchurch. He had slipped all the rest of the field. 
 
.314 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 and finding that the chestnut mare was catching him 
 for speed, he dashed up a green lane, and jumped five 
 gates along it in succession. " 'Drat you, Joe ! you 
 thought to shake me off, did you ?" roared Mr. Tolle- 
 mache, as they landed almost together in a large 
 grass field, in the middle of which the hounds had 
 earthed their fox ; and, " Well, sir, I did ; but I'll 
 have no more gates," was the rejoinder, as they 
 trotted up to the hounds, and decided that it was to 
 be a drawn match. Pevorett's day was over ,when 
 the Cheshire had their tremendous run (of which a 
 map has been published), and Joe rode three horses 
 that day, and finished on a hack. The fox broke 
 from Barley's Gorse at half-past eleven, crossed the 
 Willock Brook three times, and doubled into a ditch 
 near Brereton's Gorse for nearly an hour, Joe being 
 utterly unable to help the hounds, as the farmer and 
 his servants went on guard with pitchforks. How- 
 ever, they went in and made it out for themselves, 
 and a run from point to point of about twenty-five 
 miles ended with a kill by moonlight. This was on 
 November 25th, 1842, and the year previous Pevorett 
 was given to Joe after having been bought in for 
 35% 3?o^> and 5oo/., in succession, when Sir Harry 
 Mainwaring, Mr. Jeffery Shakerley, and lastly Mr. 
 Smith Barry gave up the hounds who sold him for 
 200 guineas to Sir Richard Sutton. The baronet rode 
 him for two years, and declared that he had seldom 
 been better carried than in one five-and-thirty minutes' 
 burster. Shortly after this he was given up to Solo- 
 mon, the whip, and he was eventually killed by Henry 
 Cadney, the boiler, who enjoys a pension for his 
 twenty-nine years' Sutton service, and is now on duty 
 at the^North Staffordshire kennels. Joe's other great 
 Cheshire horse, Corporal, was a grey by Irish Starch, 
 and faster than Pevorett. One of his odd tricks was 
 to switch his tail perpetually, and his rider was obliged 
 to hold it with his whip while he listened to his hounds 
 
Breeding of Him ters. 315 
 
 in cover. Racing men will remember that Miss Elis 
 had a trick of this kind when she was running. Com- 
 ing round the clump in the Goodwood Stakes, some 
 one near Lord George, in the Stand, said " Look ! 
 she's beat ; her tail's going like a pump handle ! " and 
 his lordship retorted, with his cold smile " Yes, sir ; 
 and it will pump you dry ! " Corporal always went 
 along with his tongue hanging out, and as he was a 
 running jumper, he gave his rider a succession of most 
 fearful falls, which would have been no joke to any 
 man, much less to one who had been so crippled by 
 his boiler accident. 
 
 Maiden was born within halloo of Barrow Church- 
 yard, in Shropshire, a few years after the King of 
 Whips* was buried there. " Verily," as Cecil says. 
 " good sportsmen are indigenous to the soil ; no 
 sooner is one run to ground than another comes 
 forth." In one sense of the word, he has one 
 " leg in the grave ;" and as that deceased member's 
 successor has become as famous as the late Marquis 
 of Anglesey's, we may be excused dwelling a little 
 on its history. The accident took place at the 
 North Warwickshire kennels in 1829. He was all 
 dressed on that unhappy day to go to Lichfield 
 races, and had walked down before starting to 
 give some directions to his boiler. The latter was 
 not quite up to his work, and on mounting the 
 copper to give some directions, Joe slipped in with 
 both legs. He was out again in an instant, and 
 felt it so little at first, that he quite expected to 
 go on to the races when he had changed his dress. 
 Some injudicious application at the spur of the 
 moment to the left leg, which was most injured, 
 nearly drove him distracted ; and when his wife ar- 
 rived, and the stocking was removed, it literally 
 
 * Tom Moody. 
 
3 1 6 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 seemed as if part of the calf had come away with it, 
 and left the bones exposed. 
 
 It would be hopeless to try and describe the tor- 
 ments he has endured since then how he broke the 
 leg once, if not twice how pieces of bone, nine or 
 ten, came away how he was twice over-fired by the 
 Oldfield-lane Doctor in that quaint old Manchester 
 fleshery, where toes and fingers were nipped off as 
 coolly as if they were sugar nibs ; and the patients 
 were set to hold one another, nine out of ten being 
 assured they were " regular bad-plucked uns !" Suf- 
 fice it to say, that the calf continued to be little more 
 than a bundle of bones and ligaments, strapped toge- 
 ther with diachylon plaster; and yet it was under 
 this martyrdom riding with one stirrup shorter 
 than the other, often hunting six days a week, while 
 not closing his eyes for agony at night, and adding a 
 little to the heel of his boot each year as the knee 
 tendons contracted that he won his spurs in Cheshire, 
 and served Mr. Davenport for several seasons. How- 
 ever, while exercising the young hounds one dewy 
 morning in Trentham Park, he caught a chill, and on 
 coming home it was found that mortification had 
 commenced in the limb. That was temporarily 
 averted ; but things looked so threatening, that it 
 was deemed advisable to take the leg off in the 
 November of 1855. Chloroform was a long time 
 doing its duty ; but all was skilfully achieved, and he 
 only awoke at the very fag-end of the operation. H e was 
 able to get into another room by Christmas-day, but 
 lie was so wasted that his wife could easily carry him 
 about, and all hope of hunting seemed gone for ever 
 and aye.^ By the day of the second Quorn sale he 
 had furnished himself with two legs, one for walking 
 and the other for riding, and reappeared at Quorn on 
 a crutch, where he was looked upon and hailed by 
 his brother huntsmen as quite a Crimean veteran. 
 Unfortunately his walking leg would not ride, while 
 
Breeding of Hunters. 317 
 
 his riding leg was a bent one, and did not admit of his 
 walking except with a crutch. Still, with all his 
 ancient pluck, he determined to make one more 
 effort to get a leg which would combine both 
 riding and walking powers, and up to London he 
 again journeyed as " a forlorn hope." His first essay 
 on horseback with the new leg was round the 
 ring at Tattersall's (Mr. Edmund Tattersall having 
 lent him a Steamer hunter for the purpose), on the 
 very day that " Big Ben" sent forth its first thunder- 
 peals, no doubt in honour of his being " once more 
 on the shopboard." An afternoon's ride round by 
 Earl's Court and Brompton, wound up by two strong 
 gallops down Rotten Row, where he seemed as much 
 out of season as a butterfly in a frost, and a lesson in 
 walking from a fellow sufferer, concluded his metro- 
 politan training. This " Patent American Leg" only 
 weighs 3jlbs. with all its fastenings ; and its inventor, 
 Mr. Palmer, unfortunately has to wear one. He lost 
 his leg when he was only a child of ten, during his 
 daily labour in a tanner's bark mill ; but he was 
 nearly twenty-two before he succeeded in solving the 
 problem of artificial locomotion. His own story of 
 his " first thoughts" on the subject, as told in The 
 Scalpel* is as follows : " It was winter, and exces- 
 sively cold. I was dissatisfied with my Anglesey leg, 
 and requested one of my brothers to bring me a 
 section of a young willow tree, then standing on the 
 farm. He did so, and being no practical mechanic, I 
 went to work on it with a jack-knife and 'a shave/ 
 such as coopers use. After having fashioned it into 
 something like the shape of a leg, I placed it over 
 night in the oven to dry out the sap. In some few 
 days I had so far completed it as to arrange the plan 
 I had conceived for the joints ; and at twenty-two 
 
 * May, 1854. 
 
3 1 8 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 years of age I mounted it, and set off for the National 
 Fair at Washington, held in May, 1846. There I re- 
 ceived great encouragement, and was introduced to 
 most of the distinguished men." The great difficulty 
 with which his English licensee (Mr. Edwin Osborne, 
 of Savile-row) had to contend with in Joe's case, was 
 the contraction and stiffness of the knee, which bent 
 the stump quite back, and at first sight seemed to 
 render matters hopeless. By great perseverance, 
 however, the stump has been " got out" consi- 
 derably, and now, instead of being bent under the 
 knee, it acts bravely in a socket of its own. A 
 lever was applied all night for weeks (a mere trifle 
 after the firing], to keep the joint in position, and 
 even the whips have an occasional turn at " rubbing 
 in" and " drawing out" morning 'and evening. As it 
 still seems " outward bound," two or three months 
 will no doubt see him walking better than he has ever 
 done since his accident ; and he showed on his Seigh- 
 ford day (Jan. igth) how he can still ride to hounds. 
 The foot is fastened to the stirrup by a little bit of 
 elastic, which would snap if there was any fall, and to 
 see him on horseback, it is impossible to detect, 
 except from a slight tendency to lean to the off side, 
 that he has a false leg at all. 
 
 But we must not forget the other great coevals of 
 Pevorett and his game rider Lord Delamere on his 
 chestnut Wynnstay, Sir Richard Brooke on his Irish 
 rat-tailed mare, whom Tom Hewitt, of Liverpool, 
 brought over from Mullingar fair ; Mr. Leycester, of 
 Toft, on his Astbury horse ; Mr. Rowland Warburton 
 on his fifteen-hand thorough-breds ; Captain France 
 on his steeple-chase mare Brenda ; and Mr. Gleig, as 
 patient and as certain to be thereabouts at a finish 
 as Sam Chifney, on his Kangaroo. This rare animal 
 was fully 1 6 hands, with an eye and ear as good as its 
 Australian namesake, and was afterwards to be seen 
 grazing, after his triumphs, in the park at Trentham. 
 
Breeding of Himters. 3 1 9 
 
 In later times no better pair crossed Cheshire than 
 Mr. John White on his Merry Lad. Although he was 
 upwards of sixteen-one, he had action like a pony, 
 and at timber there was nothing to touch him. He 
 was hired at first from Mr. Tilbury, who furnished 
 fifteen to twenty horses for the season when Mr. 
 White took the Cheshire country, and was afterwards 
 purchased for 200 guineas. 
 
 The Cheshire Pack is generally supposed to have 
 been established about two hundred years ago, and 
 nearly all the first hounds were red tan, a colour 
 which is still often to be found in the kennel ; while 
 the blue pie, which was first introduced by the Duke 
 of Rutland's Saladin, appears at intervals by breed- 
 ing. The name of this hound was nearly as dear to 
 the Cheshire huntsmen as Ranger, one of Earl Fitz- 
 william's blood, was to the late Tom Carter's father. 
 In fact, when the latter had ridden over for a few 
 days' stay with Lord Scarboro's huntsman, he would 
 put down his glass in an evening, and shout, "Ranger! 
 hoy ! Ranger /" unceasingly for as long as a short 
 burst. Early in the century the noted Bill Gaff hunted 
 them, and at that time they went one week out of 
 the four, during the season, to the Woore kennels, 
 with a host of scarlets in their train. There was very 
 little bed for Bill that week, but he used to snatch 
 some two or three hours from his pipe and his blue 
 ruin, of which he could drink enough to float a man 
 of war, and turn out with his boots oiled, and himself 
 "all right," at cockcrow. Sir Peter Warburton, of 
 Arley Hall, was then the master ; his hounds were 
 large and slashing, and his glass of ale the best in the 
 county. The runs used to be of immense length. 
 One day they gave up so far from home, that Gaff, 
 having a fixture on the Forest early next day, took 
 the freshest horse and went back during the night, 
 leaving the wearied whips and hounds to follow at 
 leisure. Having no other resource, he thrust the 
 
320 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 boiler into a red coat, and the pair found a fox with 
 the second pack, and killed him at Bryn-y-pys, after a 
 regular crow-flight of twenty-five miles. Luckily the 
 puppies were out at walk when the madness oc- 
 curred in the kennel in 1842; and as twenty-five 
 couple were entered the next season, the original 
 blood was kept right. For many weeks, watchers 
 with long leathern gauntlets and badger tongs held 
 their dull sentry, night after night, to drag out each 
 hound to his doom the moment he showed any symp- 
 toms. Each of them was then chained in a separate 
 kennel ; but the subtle poison crept on and on, and at 
 last sixty couple of working hounds, as clever and 
 bony as any in England, had to be destroyed. The 
 shooting days of a noble racing Earl among his, 
 thorough-breds, was nothing to the final slaughter ; 
 and the poor victims were replaced by fifty couple of 
 Mr. Codrington's hounds. 
 
 But this gradual digression from the bays and the 
 chestnuts into the world of the blue-pies and the red- 
 tans, gives warning that our horse-notes are exhausted 
 for the present. Be this as it may, it was with some 
 distant notion of a chapter on hunting that we were 
 lingering lately near a meet, when a pert young 
 townsman, evidently " out for the day," rode up, and 
 determined at all hazards to make some remark to the 
 huntsman. 
 
 "You'll not 'ave got all your dogs out, I fancy, 
 sir ?" he began. 
 
 " No," was the curt reply of the latter, as he eyed 
 his man ; " thirty couple more at home." 
 
 " Thirty couple more !" was the rejoinder. " If you 
 'ad them all out, what an 'owling they'd make !" 
 
 The grim disgust of the old huntsman, and the 
 satisfied smirk of the distinguished commentator, 
 formed a never-to-be-forgotten tableau. There they 
 sat eyeing each other, the breathing types of the 
 Tom Moody and the " little Tom Noddy" schools ; 
 
Breeding oj Himters. 321 
 
 and it was the strange contrast between the two 
 which first decided us to try whether we could not 
 collect some evidence as to the hounds and huntsmen 
 of the era, when the sport had just ceased to be a 
 mere home-spun drama, interspersed with "Bright 
 Chanticleer proclaims the dawn," and its jovial 
 Tantivy chorus, crackling logs in the ingle, sparkling 
 Diana Vernons, with an occasional Tony Lumpkin for 
 contrast, and chaplains who could find a hare-form 
 with much greater precision than the lessons for the 
 day. 
 
122 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 AULD LANG SYNE. 
 
 "Ay, perish the thought ! 
 May the day never come, 
 When the gorse is uprooted, 
 The foxhound is dumb I" 
 
 T7ITHER from a desire of instruction, from 
 ij curiosity, or amusement, every man, whatever 
 his pursuit may be, feels anxious to learn from history 
 the antecedents of those who have been engaged in 
 the same occupation. To a sportsman nothing can 
 be so interesting as the legends of the chase. In 
 early days, some two hundred years ago, the higher 
 orders of society took no interest in, and were wholly 
 ignorant of, the science of hunting ; and it was many 
 years before periwigs and satin vests gave way to the 
 green coat and brown tops. The only sportsman was 
 the old rough squire, who had never been far from the 
 purlieus of his mansion. The smart sportsman of the 
 present day, who breakfasts at nine o'clock, and rides 
 his hack twenty miles to covert, will hardly believe 
 the style and habit of those days. Our ancestors used 
 to breakfast in the baronial hall, on well-seasoned 
 hashes and old October; and the huntsman and 
 whippers-in, in the servants' hall, on the same good 
 cheer. Thus fortified against the morning air, they 
 sallied out at early dawn to enjoy the sports of the 
 field. In those days there were no regular coverts. 
 The whole couhtry was a mass of straggling gorse, 
 
A uld Lang Syne. 323 
 
 heather, or weeds, and it was quite a chance where you 
 could find a fox. The only certainty was getting on a 
 drag and hunting up to him, which was the system 
 invariably pursued. We confess we are at a loss to 
 know from whence the present splendid foxhound 
 originally sprung. The beagle and the bloodhound 
 are the sorts we chiefly have record of. It might have 
 been a cross between the two. The beagle might have 
 been preserved in its original state, and the blood- 
 hound, with the cross of the beagle, might have con- 
 stituted the foxhound. Be that as it may, before the 
 days of Meynell the world were in a mist as to the 
 science of the chase. He it was who first introduced 
 quick hunting ; he found that the only way to kill a 
 good fox was never to let him get ahead of him. His 
 hounds were quick and powerful, and never hung on 
 the line, but got to head before they began to handle 
 the scent. The consequence was that there was 
 always a body fighting for it, and making the most of 
 it, good or bad whichever it might be. He had 
 plenty of line hunters ; but when the forward hounds 
 struck the scent, they flew to the head, and did not 
 chatter and tie on it. Instead of hunting each other 
 they were hunting the fox. It was delightful to see 
 them come out of covert, when he was away. They 
 did not all go through the same gap, but be the fence 
 what it might, they generally got together, before the 
 leading hounds were over the first field. Before hard 
 riding (that bane of hunting) became the fashion, it is 
 reported that he bred his hounds with more chase than 
 in later days ; but when the system of pressing them 
 began, he was obliged to breed them with more hunt, 
 or they could not have kept the line. It was not from 
 their great speed, but from their everlasting going, 
 and never leaving it, which tired the horse and killed 
 the fox. The Quorn hounds had one great disad- 
 vantage to contend against, which was, that they had 
 no woodlands, where they could begin early in the 
 
 Y 2 
 
324 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 autumn, on account of the corn. For this reason 
 Meynell stooped them to hare in the spring, to get 
 them handy when they began hunting. So far it had 
 the desired effect, but they never were thoroughly 
 steady. There is a story of their having had a brilliant 
 burst of twenty minutes, and killing a hare in the 
 turnpike road amongst the field ; Meynell, without 
 showing anger or surprise, very calmly remarked, as 
 on the occasion alluded to in the last chapter, " Ah, 
 there are days when they will hunt anything." Mey- 
 nell was the great luminary of the chase, from whom 
 all sporting planets borrowed their light. Still, 
 although one would suppose they must have been 
 conscious of his pre-eminence, it was long before they 
 availed themselves of it. 
 
 Lord Monson's were the hounds which approxi- 
 mated nearer to Meynell's than any others of the 
 day ; and, indeed, take them for every sort of coun- 
 try, woodland and open, they were of very superior 
 order. 
 
 Lord Lonsdale (then Sir James Lowther) was a 
 cotemporary of Meynell, but never would breed from 
 his blood. He persisted in keeping the slow-hunting 
 large hounds, which he had always been accustomed 
 to, and a good fox over the country was above his 
 hands. He pursued the same system till late in life, 
 when it was generally believed that Colonel Lowther 
 had the management. Whether that be the case or 
 not, their character was entirely changed ; they were 
 lighter, quicker, and for several years had as good 
 sport as any hounds in the country. 
 
 John Warde was another cotemporary of Meynell, 
 but never would cross with him. He was prejudiced 
 in favour of the old heavy slow hound, and affected to 
 hold Meynell cheap. His prejudice was so strong that 
 he once got two of his draft hounds of the meanest 
 description, which he used to show as specimens of 
 the Quorn hounds. He called them Queer'em and 
 
, A uld L ang Syne. 325 
 
 Quornite ; but we believe he never entered them, and 
 kept them as a derision on the pack. 
 
 Charles and Harry Wards were both fine horsemen 
 and first-rate sportsmen, and whether they ever 
 attempted to influence the old squire to change his 
 style of hound we know not, but be that as it may, he 
 never did. Robert Forfeit hunted them many years, 
 and did as well as any one could with that sort of 
 pack. Talking of sportsmen, Jem .Butler was the 
 man, as he probably knew more of hunting, and 
 studied the genius of the hound more than any one of 
 his time. He had a peculiar method of breaking his 
 hounds, which no one before him ever carried to so 
 great excess, or with such perfect success. He did 
 not put a whipper-in before and another behind them 
 to prevent their breaking away ; and he never would 
 have them rated till they had committed a fault. 
 " Let them wander where they will," he used to say, 
 " if they run a hare, they cannot run her long, without 
 checking, and that's the time to rate 'em." He was 
 no advocate for the whip. " A^s long as the old 
 hounds are steady," he said, " I can make the young 
 ones so without flogging." He knew when to let them 
 alone, and when to stir 'em, better than most men. 
 Originally he was whipper-in to Bob Forfeit, till Bob 
 gave it up, and then he succeeded him. In his 
 younger days he lived with Sir Clement Cotterell, in 
 Oxfordshire, and hunted his otter hounds, and after 
 that hunted a pack of beagles ; and he had such an 
 eye that he could almost prick a hare in his gallop. 
 One of his invariable rules was never to get their 
 heads up. If he viewed a fox, he would, even if they 
 were at a check, give them a certain time to work it 
 out, and if obliged to lift them, would do it in a trot, 
 and keep their noses down as if trying for it. His 
 opinion was that they never enjoyed it after a lift as if 
 they had done it themselves. His pace in casting was 
 always guided by the scent he was engaged with ; but 
 
326 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 careful as he was on this point, we have known him 
 cross the line, and come back over the same ground 
 in the slowest walk, hit him, hunt up to him, and kill 
 him. Had he had full scope for his genius, he would 
 have been handed down as the first sportsman that 
 ever graced the annals of the chase. 
 
 What may be done by change of system, good 
 judgment, and common sense, is illustrated most 
 strongly in the instance of the late Lord Spencer, 
 then Lord Althorp, when he took the Pytcheley 
 country. He gave 1000 guineas to John Warde for 
 his hounds, and never bred, we believe, but from one 
 dog hound in the pack, who was bred by Mr. Lee 
 Anthony. His name was Charon, and he was the sire 
 of some of the best hounds in after-days, and amongst 
 them of a bitch called Arrogant, who was perhaps the 
 most extraordinary hound that ever hunted a fox. 
 She combined hunting, chasing, nose, and stoutness, in 
 a manner that no hound we ever heard of could equal. 
 Lord Althorp sent his bitches to the best hounds in 
 the kingdom, regardless of any trouble or expense. 
 He began with a pack which with anything like a 
 scent invariably tired to their fox ; and drawing for a 
 second, after even a very moderate run, was a thing 
 quite out of the question. It must be allowed, how- 
 ever, that John Warde's hounds had one quality, 
 which to a man about to form a pack was most in- 
 valuable, and that was their extreme steadiness. 
 There were between twenty and thirty couple of old 
 hounds, who would run nothing but fox. As school- 
 masters they were beyond all value, and mainly con- 
 tributed to the great superiority which the pack in 
 future years so strongly evinced. When my lord got 
 what he liked, it was one of the most perfect establish- 
 ments that ever took the field. They could hunt, 
 they could chase, were stout and steady, and in short 
 could do everything a man could wish. No scent was 
 too good and none too bad for them. They could cut 
 
A uld L ang Syne. 327 
 
 him up in fifty minutes, or could hunt him for three 
 hours. In a catching, ticklish scent (the most difficult 
 of all), they would show their wonderful prowess. 
 Whatever it was, they would go up to it, and when 
 they could not carry it on, would lean to it, to tell you 
 which way to hold them. Charles King and Jack 
 Wood were brilliants of the first water, and what was 
 of the greatest importance, they were good friends. 
 They used to split them in their cast, and make their 
 circle in half the time that rural sportsmen are wont 
 to do, so that instead of losing time, and dropping to 
 hunting, they killed many a fox, who would other- 
 wise have walked away from them. They were 
 splendidly mounted, and in short the whole thing 
 was perfect. Hunting was Lord Althorp's forte, 
 and pity it was that he ever turned his mind away 
 from it. 
 
 Lord Spencer's (father of the late lord) was a fine 
 powerful pack, something in the style of Lord Mon- 
 son's, but they had not the sport they ought to have 
 had. Dick Knight had the whole management of 
 them, both as to breeding and hunting them. He was a 
 fine horseman, and was magnificently mounted, but he 
 had no patience. He thought he knew better than the 
 hounds, and was too fond of lifting them. There was 
 an old story of a run he had with a fox, the skin of 
 whose head was nailed over one of the stable doors at 
 Pytcheley. He found him at Sywell Wood, and re- 
 cognised him as an old friend, from a peculiar mode of 
 twisting his brush over his back. He had beat him 
 several times, and he was determined if possible to 
 have him by fair means or foul. Knowing the line he 
 had before taken, he did not lay them on the scent, 
 but lifted them beyond Orlingbury, where he viewed 
 him, and where he laid them on close at him ; at the 
 first check he lifted them again beyond Finedon, where 
 he viewed him again ; and at the next check beyond 
 Burton Wold, where he again viewed him ; and thus 
 
328 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 either chased him or lifted them to Grafton Park, 
 where they ran into him. The distance was at least 
 ten miles from point to point, and it was supposed the 
 hounds were not four miles on scent the whole way. 
 We mention this story to show the system he pursued. 
 He had neither patience nor perseverance, and was 
 always for finding a fresh fox. Having plenty of 
 horses, he would gallop off miles distant. Half 
 the field thought the hounds were running, and did 
 not discover their mistake till they got to a fresh 
 covert, with their horses half done. Such, we believe, 
 to have been the mode generally adopted by the re- 
 nowned Dick Knight. 
 
 Sir Thomas Mostyn, who hunted Oxfordshire, had 
 a splendid pack perhaps as powerful a one as ever 
 hunted : they had, however, very little sport, and were 
 the victims of unconquerable prejudice. Sir Thomas 
 seldom saw any hounds except his own, and had a 
 great dread of tongue ; the consequence was that they 
 were nearly mute. He had a bitch called Lady, a 
 draft from Lord Lonsdale, from whom sprung most 
 of his pack : she bred them nearly mute, and notwith- 
 standing, he continued to breed from her blood almost 
 entirely. They would go hopping on a scent two or 
 three fields together without speaking, so that a per- 
 son who was not accustomed to them would hardly 
 know whether they were on scent or not. They 
 could not hold the line, solely from want of tongue ; 
 and unless they got away close to him, and had a 
 burning scent, they could never catch him : the mo- 
 ment they came to hunting the game was up. Stephen 
 Goodall, the huntsman, was a clever man, and knew 
 hunting thoroughly. He must have been fully aware 
 of their great defect, but he had nothing to do with 
 the breeding, as Sir Thomas, we believe, managed that 
 department entirely himself. Stephen weighed up- 
 wards of twenty stone, and could of course never be 
 there at a critical moment. 
 
A uld L ang Syne. 329 
 
 Sir Thomas was unlucky irfhis huntsmen. In early 
 days he had the great Mr. Shawe a fine horseman, 
 and a cheery one over the country if things went well ; 
 but if they could not hunt him, he tried to hunt him 
 himself, and he soon got their heads up. He after- 
 wards had a huntsman named Teesdale, who had been 
 a coachman, and knew better how to handle the rib- 
 bons than to handle a scent. Hence he was driven to old 
 Stephen, who, if he could have been reduced ten stone, 
 would have been invaluable ; but except as a kennel 
 huntsman, he did him little good. Although Stephen 
 had little sport with Sir Thomas, he had an extraordi- 
 nary season in Oxfordshire in 1799-1800, with Lord 
 Sefton. They had a pack of hounds, the refuse of 
 every kennel, and tainted with every fault pushers, 
 skirters, some which had not power to go up 
 to a scent, and sqme which would go without 
 one. However, it being a wonderful scenting season, 
 they had such a year's sport as was probably never 
 known in Oxfordshire before or since. Stephen 
 went with Lord Sefton into Leicestershire, where 
 he hunted the young pack, and showed the greatest 
 science in breaking them ; and he afterwards came 
 to Sir Thomas, where he remained till he gave it 
 up. 
 
 The late Mr. Drake was a sportsman of the highest 
 caste, and when he got Sir Thomas's hounds he very 
 soon changed their character. They wanted nothing 
 but tongue, which he soon gave them. He got a 
 hound or two from Lord Yarborough, and 5ent his 
 bitches Avhenever he thought he could get a cross to 
 suit him. Every one who hunted with him latterly 
 must allow his hounds to be as good as they could 
 be. 
 
 There was another pack in those days the counter- 
 part of Sir Thomas Mostyn's, which were Lord 
 Vernon's. They were many years under the manage- 
 ment of Mr. George Talbot, who split cm the same 
 
330 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 rock as Sir Thomas, namely, his dread of tongue. 
 They were a fine powerful pack, though inclined to be 
 rather upright in the shoulders. With a good scent 
 they could split him up in the best form, but when 
 they got into difficulties the weak points came out. 
 When they were stopped by sheep, or from any other 
 cause, and the chase hounds held themselves on and 
 got on the line, they would not cry the scent, but 
 whimpered like hedge-sparrows, so that the line 
 hunters could not hear them, and they were always 
 slipping one another. 
 
 The Grafton hounds in olden times, early in the 
 present century, were managed by old Joe Smith, and 
 were different from any hounds of the present day. 
 They were rather round than deep in their bodies, 
 had good legs and feet, were very stout, but wild as 
 hawks. No fox could live before them if he hung, 
 and they did not change ; but over the open, when 
 the morning flash was on them, they could not hold 
 it, and could never pinch him. They ran by ear more 
 than by nose ; and when they got to a ride half the 
 pack would leave the cry, hop round to the next ride, 
 cock up their ears till they heard the others bringing 
 it on, and then throw themselves in at his brush. In the 
 latter days of Joe Smith, Tom Rose hunted them, 
 and for many years afterwards had the whole control 
 over them. He bred them much larger, but never 
 altered their character. He was a fine joyous old 
 fellow as ever cheered a hound, and no one knew 
 better what he was about. Being once asked why he 
 bred his hounds so wild " Why ?" says he ; " I'll tell 
 you why. Nine days out of ten I am in a wood. 
 Every fox I find I mean to kill, and these hounds are 
 the sort that will have him. An open country and a 
 woodland pack are different things. What you call 
 a good pack will never catch a bad fox, and as I want 
 to hunt him instead of his hunting me, I think my 
 hounds best calculated for my country." In the after- 
 
Auld Lang Syne. 331 
 
 noon, when the fly was off them, no hounds would hunt 
 better; but, as we all know, in the afternoon the 
 bloom is off then men, horses, and hounds have had 
 their first sweat, and the only one of the party who is 
 fresh is the fox. You may hunt him till dark, but if 
 he be good for aught you will never grab him. After 
 the old Duke's death, the late Lord Southampton 
 took them, and Tom Rose continued to hunt them. 
 They were kept much in the same form, and with the 
 same result : in short, he killed his foxes in the wood- 
 lands, and they beat him in the open. 
 
 His lordship's great delight was to breed them 
 stout, and if ever a hound tired he never took him out 
 again. He had a hound called Dragon, the wildest 
 and the stoutest hound that ever hunted. When he 
 was running for his fox at the end of a long day, you 
 might see him with his head up, waving his stern, and 
 throwing himself into a wood as fresh as if he had 
 just come out. After Lord Southampton's death, the 
 late Duke took them, and old Tom hunted them till 
 he was obliged to give it up. His son hunted them 
 for a short time, and then they fell into the hands of 
 George Carter. George tried, and succeeded in a 
 great degree, in making them an open country pack : 
 he got out of the woods whenever he could, drafted 
 the skylarkers, and, though he never got them steady, 
 he killed his foxes. He could not kill a bad fox, like 
 Tom Rose with his wild-boys, but he was the first 
 man in that country who could ever catch a good one 
 over the open. 
 
 In our passing records of the chase we must not 
 forget the redoubtable Jack Musters. Hunting was 
 his study and delight, and no man knew more about 
 it. He was as much alive to the wiles of a fox as he 
 was quick in discovering the sagacity of a hound. When 
 his fox was beat, and began to play tricks, no man was 
 so patient, so quiet, or ever killed more often after a 
 run. He had the knack of keeping their heads down ; 
 
332 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 as he well knew if once they got them up, by 
 hallooing and lifting, he never could get them down 
 again, which is the cause of being so often beat after 
 a fine run. He was a capital horseman, though rather 
 too heavy for the first flight, but he was always there 
 when wanted, and never upset his horse. As to the 
 condition of his hounds we will not say much. He 
 did not like to let his capital lie dead, and did not lay 
 in a stock of meal, whereby their coats stared, and 
 they were not up to the mark. The best evidence of 
 his knowledge and judgment was that, although he 
 was for ever changing his hounds, he always, after 
 a time, had them good. He had a happy method 
 of making them fond of him, and he made them 
 do what he liked. In short, he was at the very 
 top of his profession a very senior wrangler in the 
 science. 
 
 Talking of wild hounds, perhaps there never was 
 a pack so thoroughly wild as that of the late Lord 
 Fitzwilliam's in 1810 or thereabouts. They never 
 were known to hold a scent for half a mile. They 
 were noisy in the extreme, either with or without 
 scent ; they forced and flew, and had every fault 
 which hound ever possessed. Added to this, they 
 were so fat that, had they been as steady as they 
 were the contrary, they could never have killed a 
 goad fox. The establishment was splendid in the 
 extreme. The stud was magnificent, being chiefly 
 drafted from the racing stable, and they had every- 
 thing which money could furnish, except sport : utter 
 want of knowledge in Will Dean, the huntsman, 
 wholly marred it. The greatest praise is due to Lord 
 Althorp and Mr. Drake, as sportsmen, for changing 
 the character of their hounds, but we are not sure that 
 more credit is not to be attached to Tom Sebright 
 than to either of them. The former had a steady 
 pack to begin with, and the latter only wanted tongue; 
 whereas Tom went to sea without a compass, and hav- 
 
Auld Lang Syne. 333 
 
 ing every fault to contend against without one redeem- 
 ing virtue. How he got them right, or how long he 
 was about it, we know not, but that he did is an ac- 
 complished fact, as for many years he had a pack 
 which the proudest man in the realm might well be 
 proud of. There is a Latin adage, the English of 
 which is, " If a man is not born a poet, you can't 
 make him one." Tom was bred and born a sports- 
 man. His father, old Tom Sebright, knew hunting 
 thoroughly, and hunted the New Forest hounds at the 
 beginning of the present century. 
 
 The hunting in that country, in the month of 
 April, is charming beyond description. A bright 
 gaudy day is not generally supposed to be favourable 
 for hunting ; but in the New Forest, in the spring, 
 it cannot be too brilliant ; in fact, in wet weather they 
 can do nothing. About the year 1802 they hunted 
 thirteen days in April, and perhaps the first or second 
 of May, and killed eleven foxes after a run : not the 
 sort of run you have in Leicestershire, of ten or 
 twelve miles from point to point, but to a man who 
 really likes hunting it is inconceivably beautiful. 
 With good health, youth on your side, pink and 
 leathers in prime trim, and a pleasant nag, nothing 
 could be more enchanting or heart-stirring than the 
 meet in the New Forest on a lovely morning. The 
 bogs in that country, which extend for miles, are as 
 deep as the lake of Avernus ; and if you get in, you 
 will never get out again, at least with your horse. 
 Here the foxes delight to lie ; and seeing them draw 
 up to him is one of the most delicious sensations 
 imaginable. They go with their heads up, sniffing 
 the breeze, and show you that he is there, though 
 they can't speak to him. At length you hear a 
 tongue, then another and another, till " the sweet 
 melody enraptures the senses, and chases all your 
 cares away." There was no driving 'em over the line, 
 as is now the wont, but the old foresters were all 
 
334 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 sportsmen, and knew when they were on the scent 
 and when off it. They had not more than eighteen 
 couple of effective hounds, but they were the cream of 
 the cream. Old Tom knew the Forest well, and 
 showed the hand of a master there. The hounds 
 were mainly descended from a hound bred by Lord 
 Egremont, called Jasper, who was a model of a fox- 
 hound both in shape and work. In those days there 
 was a club at the King's house at Lyndhurst, where 
 there was a jovial party, good cheer, and, to a lover 
 of hunting, the month of April was altogether a month 
 of pleasure without alloy. 
 
 There were no hounds more deserving of notice 
 than the Oakley, in days of yore. About the 
 year 1808 or 1809, as well as we recollect, the 
 Duke of Bedford took them under his guidance : 
 he was then a young man, and had no knowledge 
 of hunting. His huntsman, George Wells, had 
 not then had experience to make him sage, and 
 was rather of the wild-boy school. The Duke had 
 no prejudices, went out with other packs, and pro- 
 fited by what he saw. He found he was wrong, both 
 in his theory and practice, and instead of following 
 the wild lifting system, adopted quietness almost to 
 excess, and his pack became in consequence one of 
 the most efficient in the kingdom. George Wells 
 soon discovered that he had been on the wrong tack, 
 that the more he did for them the less they would 
 do for themselves, and from inclination, as well as 
 conviction, willingly acquiesced in the Duke's wishes. 
 Their symmetry was perhaps unrivalled, and they 
 were altogether as good as they were handsome. 
 The fatigue of the chase was too much for his Grace's 
 health, and we believe no man ever gave it up with 
 greater reluctance. 
 
 Before we close we must not forget the venerable 
 Mr. Corbet, who for so many years hunted War- 
 wickshire. He did not ride hard, but his huntsman, 
 
A^M Lang Syne. 335 
 
 Will Barrow, was a fine horseman, and knew what he 
 was about. His hounds, perhaps, had rather too 
 much hunt, but they had altogether inimitable sport. 
 A more popular master of hounds never hunted. In 
 him was combined the high-bred English gentleman 
 with the thorough sportsman, and his memory will 
 be fondly cherished in Warwickshire as long as 
 memory lasts. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 DICK CHRISTIAN'S LECTURE. 
 
 " The Mayor and Magistrates all said they could not ride ; and on some 
 
 gentlemen present saying Alderman could ride, Alderman 
 
 said he had not been on a horse for eighteen years, and he would 
 hold any one responsible who would venture to say he could 
 ride." REX z/. PINNEY (Bristol Riots), 5 C. & P., 281. 
 
 WHEN I first espied this memorable confession, 
 I fear that I rather despised my fellow-man. 
 A little reflection, however, convinced me that either 
 its utterer or the gentleman who remarked " It's not 
 the big fences I'm afraid of I never go near them ; 
 but it's the little ones I don't like," were just as 
 much qualified as myself to write a chapter on the 
 philosophy of cross-country horsemanship. I may 
 be as fond in my heart of the sport as Lord Elcho's 
 huntsman, who declared it was all he could do to 
 refrain from standing up and giving a " View holloa " 
 when Dr. Chalmers* delivered that stirring passage 
 from the pulpit, in 1791, on "the ancestral dignity 
 and glory of the favourite pastime of joyous old 
 England ;" but I fear that my practice might prove 
 like that of the same great divine's, who tried to cal- 
 culate, from the relative length of intervals between 
 each of his falls, how far a dozeri falls would carry 
 him, and exchanged his horse after the tenth for one 
 
 * See " Chalmers' Life," vol. i. p. 223. 
 
Dick Christians Lectiire. 337 
 
 of Baxter's works. In this difficulty I bethought 
 myself of copying the example of the Mechanics' 
 Institutes, and engaging a lecturer ; and no one 
 seemed so fitted as that great Professor of rough- 
 riding, the veteran Dick Christian,* to tell how horses 
 were tamed and how fields were won. It was on a 
 cold frosty evening, early last January, that I first 
 met the Professor by a comfortable fireside at Mel- 
 ton, and drew forth my trusty steel pen to report his 
 lectures. I had never seen him before, and certainly 
 seventy-eight winters have dealt gently with him. 
 There he sat, the same light-legged sturdy five-foot- 
 six man, with apparently nearly all that muscular 
 breadth of chest and vigour of arm which enabled 
 him in his heyday to lift a horse's fore-quarters as 
 high, if not higher, over a fence, than any man who 
 ever rode to hounds. He seemed to be anxious 
 to jump off at score upon his great Marigold feat, 
 the account of which had just been cut out of an 
 old newspaper and sent him by a friend ; but I 
 called him back, and asked him what sort of boy he 
 was, and got him well-away on that theme from the 
 post at last. 
 
 Cottesmore was my native place, when Sir Horace 
 Mann kept his harriers there. Father would have 
 me made a scholar, but I was all for horses : they 
 were still my hobby. In room of going to school, I 
 always slipped down to the head groom, Stevenson 
 (he was the beginning of me, was Stevenson ; he was 
 a nice man ! ), at Sir Horace's riding-school, and rode 
 the horses till the boys came out : then off I slips 
 home to dinner with my books, quite grave. Father 
 never knew of it, and the master he never told of me ; 
 
 * Chapel-street, Melton. 
 
 4 
 
338 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 not he. I loved nothing like horses. When I was 
 only six or seven, I used to go out on my pony, bare- 
 back, and jump everything right and left, just like 
 other people. My word ! I could set a good many of 
 them then ! I'll tell you a story about a bull a re- 
 gular good'un. Ecod, how you make me laugh ! I 
 wish I was twenty years younger. It would be about 
 a year and a half before I left Cottesmore there was 
 a holiday-making, and this ere bull was in a field. 
 Some one said " You daren't ride him, Dick ;" so up 
 I gets off he goes, right away to Cottesmore, and 
 the whole fair after me ! You know the brook there ? 
 Well, he was so beat that he downs his head when 
 he gets to it, and slithers me right off. Flat on my 
 back I comes : on him again, and blame me if I 
 didn't ride him whiles he was so blown he could 
 run no longer ! It's truth, every word I'm telling 
 you. There was quite a hunt after the bull, and the 
 farmer laughed and said nothing : he know'd me, 
 you see, already, and my riding tricks I was a 
 queer un. 
 
 I would be somewhere about twelve and a half 
 when I went to Sir Horace Mann's racing stables : 
 they were at Barham Downs in Kent, but he had 
 only two or three horses. I rode my first race in a 
 blue jacket, on Barham Downs I think I was second. 
 There wasn't more than four and a half stone of me 
 then. I rode the same mare at Margate, and had a 
 bad accident there : a chaise crossed the course, and 
 nearly broke my knee. That was a two or three 
 year job. I was so lame I went home again, and 
 father sent me to school for a bit. When I got better, 
 I took a mare of Major Chiseldine's, of Somerby, 
 on the Burrow Hills, down to Timms the trainer, 
 at Nottingham. We galloped them on old Sher- 
 wood Forest, and took them to water at the Beeston 
 Water-mill the spot's all covered with factories 
 now. Home again I comes to Cottesmore, and then 
 
Dick Christians Lecture. 339 
 
 I had just a lark. Blame me if I didn't ride twenty 
 races in one week at Burleigh Park. What a week it 
 was, to be sure! cricketing, horse-racing, pony- 
 racing, hacks catch-weights all sorts of fun. Lord 
 Milsington was there (him as married the Duke of 
 Ancaster's daughter), and the gentlemen would match 
 us. I was to ride a pony ; so I gets niggling before 
 him at the start, and he called me back, so angry. 
 How the gentlemen did laugh, to be sure ! It was 
 only half a mile : away I jumps, and he never catched 
 me it wouldn't be more than half a length at last. 
 What a deal they made of me ! they carried me into 
 the tent, and gave me three glasses of wine and a fine 
 mounted whip. They had a deal more fun than that 
 with me. When I had beat Lord Milsington, the late 
 Lord Winchilsea made a match with Captain Bligh, 
 for me to ride a donkey and he to run afoot half a 
 mile. Such fun you never saw in your life ! But my 
 word, I beat him at last, and they gave me my first 
 gold guinea. Captain Bligh, he was a first-rate runner 
 and cricketer. 
 
 After this 'ere racing concern, Sir Gilbert Heath- 
 cote sent his huntsman, Abbey, for me to go over to 
 Normanton Park. Stevenson went with me, and 
 Sir Gilbert and his lady (she was very kind to me, 
 bless her !) came out to us. My lady quite laughed. 
 " That little thing for a riding groom !" she said ; 
 " he can't sit on a horse." " Try him, my lady," 
 said Stevenson (you see, he always spoke up for me) ; 
 " give him one saddled and one to lead." Up I gets 
 with the two, and off across the park, and galloped 
 them till Sir Gilbert holloas me to stop. Didn't I 
 take it out of them ! " He'll do," they said ; " he 
 can hold anything." So they gave me six guineas a 
 year, and all my clothes, lots of them, and half a 
 guinea board when they were out. I always rode out 
 with my lady in a blue coat and striped waistcoat. 
 The first race Sir Gilbert ever had a horse in I rode 
 
 Z 2 
 
340 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 at Lincoln ; and I won it too. His colour was scarlet 
 and black cap then ; I don't know about this 
 " French grey." There were ten of us ran. He gave 
 all the money away : such a to-do as never was seen. 
 They called her Petite, and I got a io/. note. I 
 might have betted an odd quart of ale, but I had 
 nothing to back her with. Then I got into sad trouble 
 about playing a trick on the billy-goat : what a row 
 there was to be sure ! It was the grooms put me up 
 to it. Sir Gilbert sent me off the next morning. I 
 was at home all Sunday ; then Abbey comes for me, 
 and says as her ladyship was very bad about my 
 going. My blood was up, and I wouldn't go back ; 
 but they coaxed me, so I said I would go if father 
 would leave his farm for a day and come with me. 
 So away we three goes, and into Sir Gilbert's study. 
 I wasn't going to be brought back that way without 
 making some one pay ; so I says to Sir Gilbert (I was 
 always a one for speaking up), " I'll stay if you'll raise 
 my wages, Sir Gilbert, and I want ten guineas." So 
 he said, " Very well," and gives me half a sovereign to 
 make up matters. I wasn't a bit to blame about the 
 billy-goat : I never knew what he'd go and do. So 
 I stayed there fifteen years. Sometimes I rode after 
 my lady, and then they made me second horseman. 
 It was then I first jumped the Whissendine brook ; 
 I couldn't be more than six or seven stone. Sir 
 Gilbert's horse refused, so he gets off, and I rode 
 one horse and led the other at it. What an owda- 
 cious young dog I was ! They were Lord Lonsdale's 
 hounds. I got over rarely with the two ; I must 
 have jumped that brook thousands of times ; I jumped 
 it back'ards and for'ards four times in one day. I 
 think I was in every time. Thorough-bred horses 
 are so frightened of water, but they jump better than 
 any when they do take to it. It was often a job 
 for me, when I was at Sir Gilbert's, to go a brook 
 jumping; there'd be three of us: of course, I'd 
 
Dick Christians Lecture. 341 
 
 be on top of the horse ; that wur always my place. 
 One 'ud lead, and the other would keep driving him 
 at it with a great waggon whip sometimes in, 
 sometimes over ; many's the sousing I've had. I 
 mind Sir Gilbert once gave me a sovereign for that 
 work : I had had a regular hydrophobia gentleman 
 to tackle that day. Sir Gilbert took to the Cot- 
 tesmore hounds for a time, and he made me head 
 groom ; then he got me a man to help, and I used 
 to go out and act as whip : Lord Forester would 
 talk of it if he were alive ; I must have done it 
 for two seasons. Let me see : I first broke my leg 
 in February, 1799, coming from hunting, on a fa- 
 vourite mare of Sir Gilbert's ; they called her 
 Chance ; she fell with me on the road about seven 
 o'clock, between Exton and Whitwell ; I hopped 
 a quarter of a mile to Whitwell, and Mr. Spring- 
 thorpe, a good English farmer, caught my mare and 
 hoisted me on her. I rode to Normanton Park in 
 furious pain : the thought of it makes me wince 
 to this day ; my word it does ; I feel it now, as I sit 
 here. 
 
 Then the Prince of Wales, he comes to Normanton, 
 and gives me ten guineas for mounting of him. I put 
 him as often as I could on Buffalo ; he was sold at 
 Tattersall's for 500 guineas, and the Prince bought 
 him. He was a strange man for a bit of fun. Old 
 Tot Hinckley, the dealer, was a great man with him. 
 I mind him and the Duke of Clarence coming down 
 the stable-yard, and they says, " Here's Old Tot ;" 
 and they shoves him into a blacksmith's shop, and 
 locks him in. They were uncommon fond, I've heard, 
 of locking people in ; I don't see no fun in it myself. 
 Mr. Assheton Smith used to be staying with Sir 
 Gilbert ; he was the best rider amongst them. Then 
 there was Lord Forester, Mr. Cholmondley, Mr. 
 Lindow, Lord Willoughby, and a lot more. Mr. 
 Smith bought a fine grey horse I rode then, and 
 
342 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 hunted him in Leicestershire ; he had killed a man or 
 two ; I had a fine jump on him ; you see I always 
 liked to be forward enough, and it was a tremendous 
 fence, but I got well over. The huntsman daren't go ; 
 Sir Gilbert he was frightfully angry ; he called to 
 him, " You daren't come, sir ! daren't you ? You on 
 a 4<DO-guinea horse, and you can't follow little Dick, 
 a lad I'll discharge you, if you don't ;" and, my 
 word, he did discharge him too. We ran from Tilton 
 Wood and killed under Billesdon Coplow. I had 
 pretty nearly all the fun to myself after that fence. 
 Then we had that " Prince of Wales's day ;" he was 
 nowhere, bless you ; they gave him the brush though, 
 just to please him. We found at Armley Wood, 
 then through Empingham, Cottesmore Wood, straight 
 through Exton Park, across the North Road by Horn 
 Lane toll bar, through Ardwick Wood, where the 
 balloon from Nottingham fell, The Lings, Towthorpe 
 Oaks, Stamford Field-side, Royal Belthorpe, Rasen 
 Gretford ; then we came to Langtoft and Deeping 
 let me see and Tallerton, and then by Uppington 
 Wood, and killed at Essendine Park that's it. Six 
 horses died in the field ; there they laid heels up'ards. 
 Mr. Charles Manners and Sir Gilbert were up first. 
 There must have been twenty-two miles or more. 
 The crow would have made sixteen or seventeen of 
 it. The late Lord Lonsdale was out, and Lindow, 
 and Germaine, and Vanneck. I would be about 
 twenty-eight then, and somewhere about ten stone. 
 Me and Sir Gilbert, we went on till he gave up 
 hounds; that would be 1809; deary me ! it's getting 
 on for fifty years : how time does go ! His horses, 
 they were all sold at Tattersall's ; thirty on 'em made 
 about SOOQ/. Then, you see, I went into a farm at 
 Luffenham for eight years. I had married before I 
 was twenty; children, indeed! I have had one-and- 
 twenty of 'em, all alive, born and christened ; the 
 twentieth's alive now, and little Freddy he's the nine- 
 
Dick Christian's Lecture. 343 
 
 teenth of 'em. This small-pox took me when I was 
 close on sixty ; it would be just before I jumped into 
 that hole. Well, I'll tell you about that after. I kept 
 my hunter when I was a farmer. I had a little mare 
 for Croxton Park Races ; that was the first horse- 
 flesh speculation I ever had. We used to enter at 
 the keeper's house, and I heard Mr. Berkeley Craven 
 say to Lord Forester, " This little black beggar's got 
 a devilish good mare, and thinks to win the Farmers' 
 Plate." So Lord Forester he comes up, and he says, 
 " If your mare wins, Mr. Christian, 111 give you 300 
 guineas for her before she goes out of the park." 
 But I didn't : they never ketched me till very near 
 home, but she was in season, and she shut up when 
 they collared her. How I did whip her, to be sure ! 
 She did just the same next heat ; but I got 10 guineas 
 for her being second, and Lord Forester bought her 
 that day for 160 guineas. I had other horses after 
 that. I used to train them at Luffenham, on Barreton 
 Heath. I won lots of races at Leicester and Not- 
 tingham ; then I gave up the farm, and I comes to 
 Melton. 
 
 Sir James Musgrave and Mr. Maxse got me to 
 come. I had been there before. The first night I 
 ever slept there was the night before the first steeple- 
 chase that was ever run in Leicestershire mind you 
 put that down. Lord Forester, Sir Gilbert, and Mr. 
 Meynell ran. It was for 100 guineas a side, eight 
 miles, from Barkby Holt to Billesdon Coplow and 
 back again ; no rules as to gates or roads ; each to 
 come as he could. It was a grand race till three- 
 quarters of a mile from home : poor Sir Gilbert ! he 
 got jammed in a bullock pen that threw him last, and 
 Mr. Meynell won. Lord Plymouth was what you'd 
 call my first master ; he gave me 20 guineas a season, 
 and 15^. a time for each schooling besides. If a 
 strange gentleman asked me, I had my pound. I've 
 rode as many as twenty fresh horses in a week, and 
 
344 T/ie Post and the Paddock. 
 
 had three out with hounds : they were fixed for me. 
 Lord Plymouth had twenty-three or twenty-four of 
 them at one time ; he would arrange for me to ride his 
 horses a quarter of an hour, half an hour, three-quar- 
 ters, two hours sometimes ; he wouldn't buy unless 
 you asked your three or four hundred guineas. Philo 
 and Vespasian, they were grand horses. Then there 
 was Juniper ; he was a tremendous horse I broke 
 him. When he made that Clinker and Clasher 
 steeple-chase match, Captain Ross wanted to buy him 
 in room of Clinker. He bought Smasher, too, of Sir 
 Harry Goodricke, for 1 500 guineas great fine horse 
 that was. Friar of Orders Grey, he was a nice one ; 
 my lord rode about list., but he was not one of your 
 very forward ones. Vespasian gave me a terrible 
 smash a devil of a shaking that was. Langar nearly 
 killed me ; I didn't know where I was for a long time ; 
 he put his foot and pinned me down by the hair of 
 my head, so they told me. I don't know what he 
 did ; I knew nothing for a good bit. I practised the 
 horses at water more than anything ; sometimes I had 
 thirty of them all a-teaching at one time. I have 
 made as many as five fifteen shillingses before break- 
 fast. It would be nearly twenty-four years I was at 
 that work in Melton, and then I went to Lord Scar 
 boro's. Lord Plymouth, he must have died very nigh 
 about the same time as poor Sir Harry : they both 
 caught cold on the water, with otter-hunting and 
 yachting. 
 
 That King of the Valley you've heard of was Mr. 
 Maxse's horse. Old George Marriott how I have 
 seen him go, to be sure, in the Ranksboro' country! 
 showed this 'ere grey to Tilbury when the down mail 
 stopped somewhere : he says, " If you don't buy him, 
 I will ;" so Tilbury did buy him. There were seven 
 of us in that great go from Nosely Wood to Billes- 
 don Coplow. Field Nicholson won on Magic, and I 
 was second on this King ; I got dreadfully crowded 
 
Dick Christians Lecture. 345 
 
 in, and I had two falls, or I should have beat them. 
 Mr. Haycock was leading on Clinker three fields from 
 home, nearly a hundred yards before Magic. Poor 
 Clinker! he was blind with defeat when his bridle 
 came off. I was 200 yards nearer the Coplow when 
 I fell : they talked a deal about my jumping thirty- 
 three feet that day, but I've done a vast more than 
 that. 
 
 Clinker's and dasher's was a great match ; they 
 said it was 1500 guineas a side. They sent for me the 
 night before, did Captain White and Captain Ross, 
 and locked me into their room : then they gave me 
 their orders ; they says, " We mean you to wait, 
 Dick." I said, " You'd better let me let the horse go 
 along, gentlemen, and not upset him ; he'll take a 
 deal more out of himself by waiting." So I got them 
 persuaded round. Old Driver the groom was outside, 
 and he comes up to me "What do they shay? 
 What do you want to wait for ?" So I told him I 
 was to go along, and that pleased him, it did. We 
 thought it was all right then. We weighed at Dalby, 
 the Squire and I bless me ! I never was in such con- 
 dition and away we trotted to Gartree Hill. They 
 were walking the horses about, and Captain Ross he 
 says to me, " Clinker looks well." " He looks too 
 well, Captain," I said. Then he lifted me up, and he 
 tells me the orders were changed, and I must wait. 
 " It's giving away a certainty," says I, " and if I get 
 a fall then I am all behind." But it was no manner 
 of use talking. Sir Vincent Cotton and Mr. Gilmour 
 they started us, and Mr. Maher he was umpire. We 
 rode twelve stone apiece : I was in tartan, and the 
 Squire, of course he'd be in green. When we are at 
 the post, he says, " Now, Christian, I know what your 
 orders are I do ask one thing ; don't jump on me if 
 I fall." I said, " I'll give you my word, ' Squire,' I 
 won't." The gentlemen they could hardly keep with 
 us, and some of them had two or three horses fixed. 
 
346 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 We were almost touching each other over Sharplands, 
 and just before the road I says, " Squire, you're beat 
 for a ioo/.," but he never made no answer. Joe 
 Tomlin and Charles Christian they stood close against 
 Twyford Brook : I got well over that. Then we had 
 some rails ; such stiff uns ! Clasher hits them with 
 all four legs, and chucked The Squire right on to his 
 neck ; Clinker took 'em like a bird. We were each 
 in a mess then ; The Squire he lands in a bog, and 
 his horse makes a dead stop, it did take a deal out of 
 him ; then I jumps right into a dung heap, up to 
 Clinker's knees ; we had no manner of idea the things 
 were there. Going up John o' Gaunt's field we were 
 together, but I turns to get some rails in the corner ; 
 he was such a good one at rails was Clinker; I 
 thought he was winning, but deary me, down he 
 comes at the last fence, dead beat. Clinker he lays 
 for some minutes, and then he gets up as lively as 
 ever; the horse looked in no manner of form, as 
 round as a hoop for all the world, as if he was going 
 to Horncastle Fair. They held Clasher up, and they 
 flung water in his face, and he won in the last hundred 
 yards from superior training, and that's the honest 
 truth. Many didn't like Clinker, but I never got on 
 so good a steeple-chaser. I'll tell you one though 
 that was better, that's Corringham ; I won the 
 Grantham Steeple-chase on him, and Mr. Greene 
 bought him for 200 guineas. How hard " The 
 Squire" did ride that match day to be sure ! I went 
 up to call on him one afternoon at St. John's Wood, 
 and he pointed to that picture of the finish, hanging 
 up just opposite the fireplace, and he says to me 
 " Dick, that Clasher and Clinker day beat me a 
 deal more than the 200 miles." He was at his 
 horse all the way. He gave me a mount on Tom 
 Thumb, that great trotting-horse of his, that week ; I 
 rode him round Tattersall's paddock ; it's like flying. 
 I felt fit to tumble off; I thought he was going 
 
Dick Christians Lecture. 347 
 
 right away from under me ; how he did step out to 
 be sure ! 
 
 Clinker beat Radical easy; I was pilot that journey, 
 it was all I could do to keep ahead on 'em ; Polecat 
 got cast in a ditch, when Pilot ran with her ; I was 
 pilot there again. Captain Ross rode Clinker against 
 Radical a great match, it would be from Barkby 
 Holt to Billesdon Coplow ; he didn't know whether 
 to take Clinker or a chestnut mare of General Peel's ; 
 he was to have her for 500 guineas if he liked ; so 
 we had a trial over the ground, five on us ; Captain 
 Ross gets on the mare, and puts me on Clinker; I 
 gave every one of them lolbs., each of them had 
 thirteen stone, and I did 'em ; it was a deal more than 
 four miles, and we went it in 1 1 \ minutes ; going the 
 pace, wasn't it, with all that weight ? The Captain 
 he was beat half a mile, and Sir Harry, Mr. Holy- 
 oake, and Mr. Wormald, they stopped at Quenby 
 Hall. It wasn't much of a secret though, this trial ; 
 Melton soon knowed all about it, and it altered the 
 betting a bit ; I was pilot in nearly all those steeple- 
 chases you're reading out of Bell's there ; they gave 
 me sixty yards, and I was to let the horses come no 
 nearer me than that, and I never did ; I knocked 
 down a precious sight of fences for them, but I was 
 never down myself." 
 
 This Marigold, I must tell you about her I have it 
 all in print here. You see, Mr. Coke what how- 
 dacious men to ride he and Sir James Musgrave were 
 to be sure ! he told me, I must always be with 
 hounds where they went, I must go, if it killed the 
 horse ; so this Marigold I sent her at a hedge ; 
 when I was in the air, I sees my danger ; Fright- 
 ened ? God bless you ! I never was frightened in my 
 life ; so I pulls her right back, just as she touched the 
 bank, and shot her hind legs right under her ; 
 we made three landings of it ; it was as steep as 
 a house side ; but you'll read all about it there ; 
 
348 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 and mind you bring that bit of print back, I wouldn't 
 lose it for a little.* 
 
 Mr. Meynell was like a regular little apple dump- 
 ling on horseback ; Mr. Assheton Smith and Lord 
 Forester, them were the men for me. Lord Jersey, 
 too my word ! he was very good ; and Sir Charles 
 Knightley, he was one of Lord Jersey's stamp. 
 He'd be more of a Pytcheley man, though many's the 
 time I've seen him in the Harboro' country, and 
 Lord Lonsdale's : it was precious seldom he'd miss 
 a Tilton or an Owston Wood meet. How he used 
 to go, to be sure ! he would be with hounds, to see 
 'em do their work. Blame me, but I've seen him, at 
 the end of a run, all blood and thorns. Mr. Smith, he 
 
 * To prevent the catastrophe so darkly hinted at by the Professor, 
 we reprint the extract. 
 
 DANGEROUS HUNTING EXPLOIT. The following extraordinary 
 feat was last week inadvertently performed by that celebrated rider and 
 tough veteran, Dick Christian, of Melton Mowbray. He was mounted 
 on Mr. Coke's chestnut mare Marigold, and out with the Quorn hounds 
 near Holwell mouth, when he charged a thick-cut hedge four feet six 
 inches high, which he cleared in good style, the mare alighting on a 
 bank about a yard wide, with all her four feet together ; immediately 
 below this bank is a steep declivity into an old quarry or stone-pit 
 called Sot's Hole, about twelve yards deep ; the failure of the bank 
 where friend Dick had thus suddenly deposited his whole capital, must 
 have proved fatal : luckily it stood firm, and the generous animal on 
 which he rode bounded boldly forward, reaching the bottom in three 
 springs, the measurement of which we subjoin ; much to the amazement 
 of the old stager and several others who witnessed this unprecedented 
 performance. Dick found himself well fixed on his saddle when the 
 gallant mare reached terra firma, and both steed and rider perfectly 
 unscathed. Mr. Coke himself was by, and wondered for the moment 
 what had become of his mare. Too much praise cannot be given to 
 our hardy veteran of the field for his excellent nerve, his firm and 
 vigorous hand, and cool presence of mind, in this little affair. In the 
 Sporting Magazine for April, 1829, page 373, and Pierce Egan's 
 " Book of Sports," page 221, honourable mention is made of this true 
 "old English fox-hunter," who is now in the 6oth year of his age, and 
 still hale and hearty. The following is a correct statement of each leap, 
 the height of the hedge not being included : Over the hedge ist leap, 
 l8ft. Sin. measured in a right line; 2nd leap, loft. 6in. ; 3rd, loft. ; 
 4th, I4ft. 9 in. ; total, 53ft. 301. 
 
Dick Christians Lecture. 349 
 
 never galloped his horses at fences he always drew 
 them up. He had little low-priced horses when he 
 first came into this country, but he rode them as no 
 man ever will again ; they would do anything : 
 get into bottoms, and jump out of them like nothing. 
 My eyes ! he made them handy. Those were dif- 
 ferent days : you might find at Melton Spinney, and 
 run to Billesdon Coplow, and not cross a ploughed 
 field. People will hardly believe me when I tell them : 
 they say, " Come, none of your nonsense, Dick !" 
 
 I once did a tremendous day's work with a four- 
 year old ; I'll tell you all about it. The Duke 
 of Grafton, he bought a mare from me ; he was 
 uncommon pleased with her, to be sure ; then he 
 wrote me if I had another horse of my own break- 
 ing, to meet him at Northampton. I was well paid 
 for my trouble, but we did not deal. Next morning, 
 " The Squire" met at Clipston ; I starts at half-past 
 eight. We had two good runs of more than an hour 
 each, and left off at Sibbertoft ; that would be thirty 
 miles from Melton, and I got home that night, both 
 of us as well and as fresh as could be. I sold that 
 horse to Thomas, the London dealer, for 25<D/. Lord 
 Southampton, he once bought a rare thirteen-hand 
 pony of me for 30 guineas, when I broke his horses at 
 Quorn ; Dick Burton used to get on him to draw 
 covers. 
 
 The gentlemen used to make a regular fox of me, 
 when they came home from hunting, but I never was 
 ketched. Mr. Gilmourvery nearly did it once, though, 
 but I just jumped the fence into the Melton Turnpike 
 before him. Lord Molyneux, he was precious near 
 having me : it seems like yesterday. Lord Plymouth 
 was uncommonly fond of that game ; he used to say, 
 as they rode home from hunting, " Better let Christian 
 be a fox for you he's not had much to do to-day ; it 
 will do my young horse good." I had lots of tumbles 
 when I was a fox, but they gave me good law ; it was 
 
3 50 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 grand fun for them. Lord Molyneux once gave me a 
 rare tying up : it was a capital lark, that was. They 
 started me below Corby, and up to the Bull at 
 Witham Common ; he was only twenty yards off me, 
 was his lordship, when I got to the Bull. " I'd like 
 to have had you, Dick," he says. They gave me 
 some brandy and water, and a bit of bread and butter, 
 and set me off for another lark to Melton, but they 
 see me no more till next day ; I regularly did them 
 that time. 
 
 I once had a grand go at Lord Cardigan he'd be 
 Lord Brudenell then on Dandy, with Lord Lons- 
 dale's hounds : they had come right up from Oakham 
 Pastures, and I was on a grey roan-muzzled one, of 
 Sir James Musgrave's Perfection they called him. 
 One of the gentlemen he says to me, " I'll give you 
 five pounds, Dick, if you'll go and lick Lord Brudenell 
 up to Overton Park ; he's licked every one of us." 
 My horse was very fresh, and I thought I'd match 
 him. " We'll give you anything if you'll have a go at 
 him," two or three more of them says ; so I over some 
 high post-and-rails. "That's capital," they shouts, 
 and at him I goes ; and I caught him just at the last 
 fence before the wood where they killed. 
 
 I never had a row with any gentleman but once. 
 He gives me one of the savagest brutes to ride that 
 ever came to Melton ; they had to go to the other 
 side of the stall to feed him, and they couldn't get him 
 out of the stable-yard till I came ; so I spoke to him, 
 and coaxed him, and he went as quiet as a dog. 
 
 Away I rides to Melton Spinney, and Mr. says 
 
 to me, " Stand you, Dick, at the gate ; the fox is 
 certain to come through that way, and let no one 
 come." Well, I sent a good many back ; they know'd 
 my horse, and I told them he'd worry them to death, 
 so back they went. Then three scarlets comes up, 
 and go through they would, wildy-nildy. The fox 
 did come that way, and sure enough they did head 
 
Dick Christians Lecture. 3 5 1 
 
 him back. I got pretty well called for that : that put 
 my blood up a bit. Then away we went to Scalford 
 Brook, but the hounds didn't cross it : up comes my 
 gentleman, and says, quite angrily, " Why didn't you 
 jump the brook ?" I told him, because the hounds didn't 
 cross ; he said they did, and I said they didn't. I got 
 as savage as blazes, and I told him, before all the 
 gentlemen, that if I didn't know his horse would kill 
 some one, I'd get off and turn him loose, and that I'd 
 never ride another horse for him as long as I lived. 
 He asked the groom, when he got to his stable, if I'd 
 left any message ; and he says, " Yes, sir ; he tells me 
 he won't ride another horse for you." " The deuce he 
 did !" I kept my word for a twelvemonth, and then 
 we made it up : he was always very kind to me but 
 that time. A man can't be put on when he's gone 
 every yard with hounds. 
 
 It would be in '41 when I left Melton. I lived at 
 Lord Scarboro's in the house at Rufford, every year 
 from October to May, for fifteen years : I was to have 
 gone again this year, but Lord Scarboro' died. It's 
 been hard lines with me since that. I broke all his 
 young horses for my lord ; they would have cantered 
 the figure of 8 in this room. He was a very particu- 
 lar man was Lord Scarboro', with his horses ; if he 
 ever saw a horse walking with the wrong leg first, 
 he'd always call to the groom to make him change. 
 I had a mint of troubles there. Captain Williams 
 and I jumped a lock ; it looked as deep as a coal-pit. 
 " Dick," says he when we killed, " what did you think 
 of that lock jump ?" " I thought nothing of it, sir," 
 I said. " Well, I did, Dick, for I shut my eyes going 
 over." He enjoyed that, did the Captain : he was 
 only on a four-year-old mare : she's gone to Voltigeur 
 this spring. 
 
 Talk of tumbles ! I have had eleven in one day 
 down there, when I was above seventy : I'll never see 
 seventy-eight again, but I can take a good allowance 
 
3 5 '-2 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 of them still. It was a horse of Mr. Foljambe's that 
 gave me those eleven, but he never hurt me. He 
 gave 250 guineas to Sir Tatton for him before he was 
 broke. My foot got twisted in the stirrup over his 
 neck at one jump, and away he went with me right 
 down a long stubble before I could get righted. 
 
 Lord Scarboro' often lent me to Mr. Foljambe when 
 I was at RufTord. What a fine horseman he was ! and 
 there's no better judge of a horse now. It 'ull be three 
 years since we were out with The Rufford ; he says to 
 me, " What are you mounted on to-day, Christian ?" 
 I said, " She's thorough-bred, sir, and she's by Ithuriel 
 out of a Langar mare, and that's all I've heard of 
 her." So he says, " Come here, and I'll handle her." 
 When he came to her legs, he says, " Why, Christian, 
 she's wonderful here ; at least eight inches below the 
 knee." That was the fact ; I had measured her that 
 very morning, and she was just 8 J inches there. When 
 he's about to purchase a horse, he'll have him trotted up 
 and down a road, and the least inequality of action he 
 can detect quicker than those who see them. He went 
 purposely to Tattersall's to handle and buy that horse 
 Rataplan. 
 
 ^ jumped on me quite sudden last night; I 
 
 didn't see just what you were driving at ; but, my 
 word, I am ready for you now. I laid awake, study- 
 ing, a good bit of the night. That 'ere bull I told 
 you about ; I remember another break I had when 
 I was with Sir Gilbert. It was near Glaston, and 
 Mr. Pochin, the parson, fell just before me, and I 
 jumped clean over him. He laid as close as a hare, 
 and Abbey, the huntsman, shouted, " You can lie 
 where you are, Mr. Pochin ; you'll not be wanted 
 till Sunday." How Sir Gilbert did laugh, to be 
 sure! 
 
 ^ What a fine rider Sir David Baird was ! When he 
 first comes to Melton we found at Ranksboro' Gorse, 
 
Dick Christian's Lectitre. 353 
 
 and crossed over between Rocart and Whissendine. 
 Only four of us got over the brook that day ; I was 
 first, and I just looks back and I says, " Now, gentle- 
 men, take up your heel taps ; here's a bumper." That 
 pleased them uncommon ; they all got over. It was 
 full of water, and that seemed to spring us out. 
 Captain Berkeley was third over, and then little 
 Mat Milton, the dealer's son, he got into the water 
 more than any of us, and, blame me, if he didn't 
 begin to cry. The fox was headed at Buckminster, 
 and came back, and the people met us at Woodell 
 Head. 
 
 I had a deal queerer go than that one day, when 
 we found at Cream Gorse. I was on one of Lord Ply- 
 mouth's young horses, and he dropped in the ditch 
 on the other side of a bullfinch : he jumped high 
 enough, but he didn't spread himself. It was a grey 
 he bought of Bill Wright, of Lyssonby. He must have 
 come back on me if I had pulled him ; so I slips off, 
 and let him go, and he ran to Brooksby with them. 
 The whole field, 150 on 'em, were behind me : and I 
 snuggled in against the side of the hedge, and over 
 they goes. I could see the shoes, 600 on 'em, glitter- 
 ing right above and beside me, and not one of them 
 made a mistake : they'd have killed me if they had. 
 I wasn't frightened not I. Just as each of 'em passed 
 over my head, I gives a bit of a shout and a chuckle 
 to 'em for encouragement like. They were all at me 
 next day. First one comes up, and then another, and 
 says, " What the devil, Dick, did you keep hollering 
 at us for, yesterday, at that fence ? We heard you, 
 but we couldn't see you." " You'd have made a noise 
 too," I told 'em, " to see you gentlemen come over me 
 like that." 
 
 The biggest fence I ever took was on one of Sir 
 
 James Musgrave's 4OO-guinea gentlemen : he gave 
 
 Sir James such a purl near Shankton Holt turned 
 
 right over with him. I got off and went to him, but 
 
 A A 
 
354 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 he says, "You go on, Dick." I looks round, and I 
 see him fall down again ; so I went back, and I says 
 " Sir James, I shan't leave you." He was laid up 
 good six weeks, and he sends for me. " You must 
 ride that horse of mine, Dick : if you kill him I shan't 
 blame you ; but if you stop at anything, you shall 
 ride for me no more. I'll send people to keep their 
 eye on you." "Well," says I, "Sir James, if you're 
 not afraid of your horse, I'm not afraid of my neck." 
 We met at the Punchbowl; and I knew there were 
 two or three to look out ; and, blame me, I did ride 
 just ! One field from Dalby, my word ! I did send 
 him with some powder at a bullfinch. I thought the 
 horse was a long time in the air. They measured 
 the jump, nearest foot from taking off to nearest on 
 landing, right through the hedge ; and what d'ye 
 think it was? 35 \ feet! It's truth, I'll warrant it: 
 there are gentlemen living vho know it. I'm not given 
 to bragging there's a deal too much of that now-a- 
 days. There were lots of wagers laid about it, and the 
 men who measured it brought the string to Melton : it 
 just went from the Half Moon to the opposite door. 
 They told Sir James about it, and he sent for each of 
 the men and gave them half-a-sovereign. It was 
 on level ground the very field as comes to the 
 road that leads to Great and Little Dalby. Two 
 farmers saw it : I forget their names : one was a little 
 fattish man. It's the real truth, and nothing but the 
 truth. I've jumped ten yards frequent ; and that 
 pond near Billesdon Coplow would be good eleven. 
 I had another great jump on that identical same 
 horse, near Burrow Hills ; it was down a hill, and 
 he scarcely was on his forelegs for two hundred 
 yards. 
 
 A quick and safe jumper always goes from hind- 
 legs to hind legs. I never rode a steeple-chase yet 
 but I steadied my horse on to his hind legs twenty 
 yards from his fence, and I was always over and away 
 
Dick Christians Lecture. 355 
 
 again before the rushers. If a horse can't light on his 
 hind legs, he soon beats himself: good rumps and 
 good hind legs, them's the sort ! A man should get 
 his horse collected. Modern gentlemen are so quick 
 at their fences, their horses don't get up, and don't 
 spread themselves. Their front legs should be higher 
 than their hind ones when they come down, but not 
 bucking I don't mean that. Lots of these young 
 riders, they know no more than nothing at all : they 
 think horses can jump anything if they can only drive 
 them at it fast enough. They'd never get hurt if 
 they'd collect their horses : they force them too much 
 at their fences. If you don't feel your horse's mouth 
 you can tell nothing about him. If you hold him he'll 
 make a second effort ; if you drop him he won't. 
 (Here the Professor rose from his chair, placed his 
 hands in attitude, and went at a fence in the spirit). 
 I've seen Mr. Holyoake go like distraction for -fifteen 
 minutes, but Mr. Smith, and Mr. Greene, and Mr. 
 Gilmour, and Lord Wilton, they're the men to go 
 when others are leaving off. Lord Rancliffe, he was 
 a very sweet rider. This Captain Lloyd, too, he's a 
 fizzer. Those young men they're always pulling at 
 their horses with both hands. I never do that : it's 
 no use. Pull with your right and bear with your left ; 
 keep putting of it down gradual, and a horse must 
 stop. (We are bound to say that in this passage 
 we consider the Professor obscure ; but he could, no 
 doubt, have illustrated the operation to our riding 
 readers, as he did to us.) Horses have a bad mouth 
 on the near side, because they're always ridden with 
 one hand : a horse should have his mouth light on 
 the left ; his quarters should be out, and his head to 
 the left when he's walking. You may see ten horses 
 walk past this window, and nine of them, I'll be bound, 
 will have the wrong leg first. I hardly ever used 
 spurs ; if young horses wanted them, I used one on 
 my left leg. A leaping bar should never be above 
 A A 2 
 
356 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 two feet ; if it's higher, they often go right back'ards, 
 such a crack ; they should go close up to it. They 
 talk about a horse wanting some falls : if a young 
 horse gets a very bad fall, it frightens him ; a couple 
 of falls with low fences are well enough, but not if 
 you hurt him ; let him scramble in a ditch a bit, but 
 not get cast. I like the Empingham country best for 
 young horses ; fences not too high, and they wont 
 break. When I begin a young horse with water, I 
 walk him to it, and let him look at it ; I don't let him 
 go away : never lick him, and, bless you, he soon takes 
 a delight in it. 
 
 Grimaldi, he was a charming horse ; he never would 
 look at water at first. Mr. Osbaldeston, he comes to 
 me in Day's shop here, and he says, " I want you, 
 Dick, to go to Brixworth directly : I've made a match 
 with Colonel Charritie's Napoleon for 500 guineas, 
 over the Dunchurch country : there's a brook, and 
 Grimaldi's lost me two races already that way." So 
 I said I'd like to go to Croxton races, and I'd be at 
 Brixworth by two in the morning; and so I was there, 
 sure enough, and I got him over some water the first 
 time, after he had smelt at it a bit, and made him 
 quite handy. The Squire and me we went over the 
 ground ; and the Squire, he says, " Grimaldi will never 
 jump this water, Dick." I says, " I'll bet you a 
 guinea he will, Squire." I went and fathomed it, and 
 found a place ; so I told him " when you're running 
 I'll stand there, and put my hat on the top of my 
 whip ; come right to me, and keep him going." Bless 
 you ! he jumped it like nothing at all, and won. 
 Becher was on Napoleon ; he was stronger, I think, 
 than Oliver; Jem Mason's not so hard as them 
 two. 
 
 The Clown, that won here the other day, reminded 
 me for all the world of Vyvian when he was coming to 
 the brook. Vyvian was quite as big, a great slamming 
 horse ; no trouble to ride ; he went sailing along in a 
 
Dick Christian's Lecture. 357 
 
 snaffle, and Becher just niggling at him a bit. I rode 
 r against him and Becher at Dunchurch, and gave them 
 'such a tying up. Lord Waterford and Lord Mac- 
 donald were in that race. I was on Warwick, one of 
 Sir Edward Mostyn's horses. They laid twenty to 
 one against me. He was a little horse, very hot ; my 
 eyes, such a jumper ! I didn't keep long with them, 
 but took a line by myself. Vyvian got first round to 
 the flag, and then the Marquis, and then I. The 
 Marquis was going wide, and shouts I, " My lord, 
 where are you going to ?" I slipped right up to 
 Vyvian, and hang me if I'd leave him ; didn't Becher 
 just go on at me ! Every fence it was, " Dick, you'll 
 be on the top of me ; pray Dick, do keep off." That 
 was it all the way back ; I wouldn't have it ; I says, 
 " This is my line, and here I'll stick ;" and I did too. 
 I'd got my horse as fast as wax, and I thought win I 
 must. We were in the air together over the last 
 fence ; then Becher he sets at his horse, and he just 
 shoves his head afore me. " Now," I says, " I'll see 
 what I've got," and blame me if my horse didn't stop 
 dead as if he was shot. I called to them to turn 
 his head to the wind, or he would be down ; I 
 never got him past the post; he went back'ards, 
 he was so beat ; he never got above two miles 
 before or since that day; he was a bad-hearted one, 
 but very brilliant ; that's as nice a ride as ever I 
 had ; how he did jump, to be sure ! When Becher 
 got back to the weighing tent, he spoke up, 
 " Gentlemen, if I had Christian's nerve, I'd give all 
 I have in the world." 
 
 I've had lots of accidents, I've had my shoulder 
 out, this here leg broke, and two of my ribs ; I never 
 broke my collar bone, I am so precious thick set 
 there, they can't get at it. Horses, bless you ! I've 
 known 'em get out of a ditch, and put their fore-feet 
 on each of my shoulders ; my coat's been all split up 
 by them. I broke two ribs from a dog-cart when I 
 
358 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 was seventy-six I thought I wur done that time ; it 
 brought on erysipelas ; I must be as hard as nails ; 
 both wheels were on my legs ; it was done in Bing- 
 ham Town ; some old woman saw it. I take a deal 
 of breaking up ; I never see no fear, not even now, 
 and I just see at a distance as well as ever I did, when 
 I'm with hounds. 
 
 What runs I have seen in Leicestershire to be sure ! 
 I mind we had two clippers with Tom Sebright ; no 
 huntsman ever went so well over Leicestershire, except 
 it be Will Goodall. I never saw such a pack of hounds 
 as the Duke's is now, all so much alike. The Squire's 
 were the best I ever saw at Quorn. Of all men for 
 condition of hounds and pleasantness, I never see 
 Goodall beat ; but I was telling you about Tom 
 Sebright's run. We met at Prestwold early on in the 
 season ; I mind we were talking about who would be 
 the master of the Quorn ; it proved Sir Bellingham 
 Graham, he only held them that season. The first 
 covert to try was a plantation near the garden wall ; 
 the hounds wouldn't be in a minute when one of the 
 garden men gives a shout, and a fox goes right along 
 the wall and away ; Tom gives his view halloo, when 
 the hounds came quickly and crossed the field where 
 we met. My word, we went a clinker to Walton Thorns, 
 by Six Hills then over the Foss, nearly to Thrus- 
 sington Wolds down to the left by Dalby Wood 
 into the vale, leaving Holwell Mouth, Clawson, and 
 Statherne on the right, and killed him under the 
 Belvoir Plantations ; one hour and thirty-five minutes, 
 about sixteen miles straight from the cover we found 
 at. Nearly all the gentlemen, when the fox was 
 halloaed, made a point round the Hall for Stanton 
 Park, where Mr. Dashwood had covers ; foxes, you 
 see, often ran that line. They all got thrown out, and 
 Tom and his two whips and Captain Anson, they 
 would be the only ones up. Tom gave us another 
 rare thing the day after the Squire broke his leg 
 
Dick Christians Le^ire. 359 
 
 We met at Segrave ; there was a fox which lay about 
 there, and had been hunted for two seasons by The 
 Squire ; somehow they never could touch him ; the 
 Melton gentlemen christened him Perpetual Motion, 
 for one reason he used to tire all their nags, time 
 after time, on the Segrave meet. It was a great trial 
 for Tom ; he drew Segrave Gorse without finding ; 
 the next for drawing was Shoby Scholes, a favourite 
 spot of this Perpetual Motion. Tom cautioned his 
 whippers-in, and got such a start with him from the 
 Reed pond that proved his death-blow. He was as 
 anxious as the hounds was Tom, and when he saw my 
 gentleman fly out of the Reeds, his spurs was very 
 sharply in his horse's side and over a flight of large 
 rails, with his hounds close at his heels, and close to 
 his brush he laid them on too. The pace was as quick 
 as the hounds could run, and as much as the horses 
 could do to live in sight of the Melton Spinney ; 
 thirty minutes, without the slightest check ; there was 
 very few with the hounds up to the Spinney ; nearly 
 all of 'em shied the rails ; after hunting their fox out 
 of Melton Spinney, which stopped 'em a bit, up came 
 a few gents with Sir James Musgrave, their nags 
 puffing and sweating ; the hounds, you see, marked 
 his line through the horses, over the plough. Tom 
 lost no time in making his cast, which proved success- 
 ful, for he had no other to make ; Egad ! the old boy 
 wouldn't be beat out of his regular line; right 
 through the next fence, close by an old man at work, 
 who never saw him ; from Melton Spinney he took 
 a direct line to Garthorpe, and the hounds killed him 
 on the grounds called the Lings one hour and 
 twenty minutes, about 14 miles. The finish was an 
 uncommon cheery one ; the fox was cut into so many 
 pieces, the hounds had but a small share ; Tommy 
 Henton, he had his share of him mounted for a 
 tooth-picker with silver ; it is no doubt in the family 
 now. 
 
360 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 What a fine old rider Lord Lonsdale was ! and 
 Lambert's voice, it beat every one's I ever heard, but 
 Mr. Maher's. Count Sandor, he was an odd un, he 
 was ; he said, " He did come to von little place, called 
 Meltone." Then they sent him to the tailor as lived 
 at South Croxton, to get his breeches made ; it was 
 on a Sunday too, after church ; but off he would go. 
 When he comes back, he said, " When I did leave the 
 town I did come to a door ; de horse, he would not 
 open de door, so I make him jump over de door, and 
 as I come back, I did jump all de doors." He was 
 very fond of hunting me, he was. The bog ground 
 once broke and let me in. " I brought vun Christian 
 to de ground" if he didn't begin that way with his 
 groom before he got off his horse at night. The name 
 pleased him, you see. 
 
 A regular good un Lord Rancliffe was across 
 country ; many's the horse I've bought for him, poor 
 man ! Captain White, too, he's a splendid horseman, 
 but he'd not go through such a hard day as Sir James 
 Musgrave. Sir James, he'd make a point, but he'd 
 never persevere to catch hounds ; if ever he meant 
 going, no one beat him. Such tackle ! horses like 
 peas ; old-fashioned ones, with short bang-tails. No 
 one ever saw Sir James with a small-hipped horse ; 
 horses will always jump with great hips and rumps, 
 and hocks a little in. Then there's Sir Thomas 
 Whichcote : there have been precious few finer 
 riders than him in Leicestershire ; and such a clip- 
 ping stud of horses ! My word, I broke in the 
 first hunter he ever had; that 'ud be when he was 
 at Glaston. 
 
 ^ The savagest horse I ever saw was that Euxton of 
 Captain White's, and Manchester next to him. The 
 Captain was a great friend to me. I mind when he 
 sent for me to Euxton, he says, " Dick, if he falls with 
 you, mind you sit him, or he'll worry you." The 
 bridle got off his ears, to begin with, but I got that 
 
Dick Christians Lecture. 361 
 
 put right ; then he bolts up Adcock Lane, and kicks 
 my hat off my head. What work we had with him 
 to be sure ! Then we two tried him a lark across the 
 country to Belvoir ; at first he wouldn't face a 
 bulfinch a bit ; then he jumped through them just 
 like a balloon. How pleased the Captain was, to be 
 sure! 
 
 There was no finer man than Colonel Wyndham ; 
 few of the best of them could catch him for a mile, 
 for all his twenty stone. When they come to a gate 
 locked, he used to say, " I'll get my horse across it, 
 I'll smash it ;" and, my word, he did just. I've seen 
 them come to some tremendous great fence, and the 
 gentlemen would look about and say, " We're 
 stopped ; where's Wyndham ?" Up he'd come, and 
 smash it for them. What power he had ! he'd lift a 
 horse right up and over such places. And what a 
 clever man he was, too ! 
 
 I mind Mr. Tomlin and me had to decide a fifty- 
 sovereign match, whether Lord Cardigan or Lord 
 Gardner was the best man in a run. It was from 
 Tilton Wood, and they were together over Burrow 
 Hills and Gartree Hill ; then they crossed a dirty 
 lane at top of Burton Lordship ; Lord Cardigan 
 jumped into a haystack place, and had to come 
 back into the lane ; Lord Gardner gained 200 
 yards there, and never lost it. The hounds ran 
 to Cream Gorse ; Mr. Moore was umpire ; he first 
 asked me, and then Tomlin, what we thought, 
 separate, and then he said, " Well, Gardner, they're 
 both in your favour." What a pity it was Lord 
 Cardigan got into that haystack place ! The hounds 
 didn't kill for six miles after that, but neither of them 
 made a mistake. 
 
 I walk twelve stone I always did but I've ridden 
 many a steeple-chase at twelve stone. I once rode 
 one here in a four-pound saddle, but I didn't try 
 that game twice. I'm a good un to waste ; you 
 
362 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 wouldn't think it, though, to look at me, I'm so 
 thick across, and there's not much to come off my 
 legs. That picture of me is a regular caricature ; 
 the weight's for all the world just in the wrong 
 place. Such a hat, too, they've put on me. 
 Well, I was telling you : I once got off twelve 
 pounds in about as many hours ; I was at it, one 
 way or another, from half-past four one afternoon 
 till six next morning. I was at Birmingham, and 
 Captain Fendall he wanted me to ride I2st. on his 
 grey horse at Alcester next day ; and he had to be 
 there at eight o'clock to enter him. So he would 
 have me go into a vapour bath. I went in usual 
 time, twenty minutes, and a man comes " How do 
 you feel ?" " I feel very well," I says ; " I'll be in a 
 bit longer." Then he comes back with a tray, and 
 he begins " Gentlemen sometimes has coffee when 
 they're in the bath." So I puts my head out of the 
 little hole (I was all tied in, you see), and I says, 
 " Hang your coffee ! I'm hot enough, outside and in 
 take it away." In five minutes he comes again, 
 and I says, " I'm doing uncommon nicely, just you 
 wait ;" It was pouring off me then ! Well, when that 
 five minutes was over, he didn't ask me what I'd do, 
 but he whips the curtains away, wraps me in a blanket, 
 and had me off across the passage to another room, 
 under a regular pile of blankets, for half-an-hour. My 
 heart, how'it did bump to be sure ! I'd just been and 
 overdone it. Then the Captain, he'd been and got 
 the physic, and a precious stiff dose they'd mixed for 
 me ! They dressed me, and the Captain and I went 
 off in a chaise. When I was two miles off Alcester 
 I got out and walked, and the Captain he went on to 
 get me a bedroom ready. When I got to the inn, 
 Mason and Becher and Powell were all there in the 
 coffee-room : they'd come down to ride. When I 
 went in, they says, " How are you, old cock /" and 
 then the Captain, he comes in with his " Well, Dick, 
 
Dick Christians Lecture. 363 
 
 how are you after your boiling ?" At six next morn- 
 ing he knocks at my bedroom, and up I gets. I went 
 into a grocer's shop, and asked them to weigh me. 
 I said, " Put in eleven stone." The Captain, he 
 says, " Nonsense, Dick ; you'll be six pounds more 
 than that." I said, " I know I'm right :" and it's 
 as true as I sit here alive, I could scarcely pull the 
 eleven stone down the weights had the best of me. 
 The Captain, he wanted me to have- some breakfast, 
 but I said " No ; a very little will fetch me up :" so 
 I had a cup of coffee, and a bit of broiled bacon, and 
 a shaving of bread-and-butter, and just two glasses of 
 sherry: that made me eleven stone four it's a 
 ticklish thing is weight but I rode the race and won 
 it, and went back to Birmingham that night with 
 Green of Grantham. The stiffest course I ever rode 
 was at Ross, in Herefordshire there were seventy 
 fences. I wasn't very lucky ; there was some sludge 
 on the bank, my horse got his fore-feet in, and there 
 we stuck for a bit. 
 
 The Marquis of Hastings was one of my pupils. 
 It was a sad job for foxhunting when he died ; he 
 was just one of my sort. I was two months at his 
 place before he come of age. He sent for me to 
 Donnington, and I broke all his horses : I had never 
 seen him before. He had seven rare nice horses, and 
 very handy I got them. The first meet I went out 
 with him was Wartnaby Stone Pits. I rode by his 
 side, and I says, " My lord, we'll save a bit of distance 
 if we take this fence." So he looked at me, and he 
 laughed, and says, " Why, Christian, I was never over 
 a fence in my life." " God bless me ! my lord, you 
 don't say so !" and I seemed quite took aback at 
 hearing him say it. " It's true enough, Christian ; I 
 really mean it." " Well, my lord," says I ; " you're 
 on a beautiful fencer ; he'll walk up to it and jump it. 
 Now I'll go over the fence first." " Well, if I fall off 
 you won't laugh at me." " That I won't, my lord ; 
 
364 The Post and the Paddoc . 
 
 put your hands well down on his withers, and let him 
 come." It was a bit of a low staked hedge and a 
 ditch ; he got over as nice as possible, and he 
 gave quite a hurrah-like, and he says, " There, I'm 
 over my first fence that's a blessing." Then I 
 got him over a great many little places, and he 
 quite took to it, and went on uncommon well. 
 He comes to Six Hills the day before Clinker 
 and Clasher ran their match, and he hailed me 
 " Here's my old tutor ; I was never over a fence 
 till he showed me how :" and then he told the 
 gentlemen all about it. Whenever I saw him he 
 always joked me about it : he was a nice gentleman 
 to teach : he'd just do anything you told him that's 
 the way to get on. 
 
 The oddest hurdle races I ever had was with a 
 black horse of Lord Euston's. I'll tell you all about 
 him. Mr. Gilmour bought him afterwards. I was 
 to ride him at Ashby-de-la-Zouch. When I got on 
 to the ground I met Mr. John Story. " Dick," he 
 says, " you ride the black horse to-day : do you see 
 that Stand ? he'll run you right against it, and kill 
 you : he always runs away when they're exercising 
 him." Well, we mounted, and Becher canters up 
 " Dick, that's a fine horse you've got ; they say 
 he's a runaway devil, but we'll stop him." So 
 when we got to the post, I says, " You'd better let 
 me have the middle of the course, or I'll be on the 
 top of some of you." So I let him go, and devil a 
 soul comes near him to the distance : then True 
 Blue goes by me easy. I kept in the middle of 
 the course all the way, so I couldn't run against the 
 Stand. I told Mr. Story he'd better keep out of it, 
 he was so positive I should come there. The second 
 heat I puts on my spurs and takes off the martingale. 
 He went a bit placider that time ; but, blame me, 
 True Blue catches me just at the same place again : 1 
 was second twice. Then I went to Nottingham to ride 
 
Dick Christians Lecture. 365 
 
 him the next week. The hurdles were four-feet-ten 
 there that was the height on them ; tied together ; 
 pegged together ; eighteen inches in the ground, and 
 tied with hay-bands. This 'ere True Blue was en- 
 tered again, and he'd still got all the better of the 
 weights ; so I says to Barker, " You and I must 
 stand in 5/. ; one of us must win, bar accidents ; my 
 horse can't wait, he must go ; you keep back, and I'll 
 run 'em all out but you." I don't know what took the 
 man, but he jumped the first set of hurdles before me, 
 and down he comes all of a heap. I almost threw 
 myself off to get clear of him, and I just missed his 
 head. He fell exactly plump before me. There was 
 a grey horse of Spriggs's in the race ; he went too fast 
 for me. I tackled him pretty well, though, the second 
 heat, and he only beat me half a head that time : he 
 was a queer horse, this black. It would be some time 
 after this, Captain Euston he'll be Lord Euston 
 now sent me a message that I was to come to him. 
 " I can't manage the black," he says; " and my men 
 can't ; you must come and try." Well, I tried to 
 make him back ; two men helped me, one on each 
 side. Why ! you might just as well pull at a chim- 
 ney-piece. So I told them to get a stick and tap 
 his knees, and he began to move then. I could 
 ride him afterwards with one hand. Then he comes 
 to Melton for sale, and Mr. Gilmour bought him. 
 What fun I've had with horses in my day ! I 
 could fairly live in the air on top of a fence. All 
 these things I don't care who they go before, no one 
 can say they ain't true. Lord Plymouth bought 
 Assheton off Mr. Osbaldeston ; you must go up in 
 the morning and see that picture of him at Mr. Fer- 
 neley's : he was one of the hardest-going little horses I 
 ever saw nothing tired him. Mr. Haycock, he was 
 the hardest rider of his day; no fence ever turned him : 
 he over-did it. 
 
 Now there's Lord Scarboro'.. Mr. Lumlev that was. 
 
366 The Post and the Paddock. 
 
 Dash me ! what a go I once saw with him ! We was 
 out with the Belvoir hounds, Sir James Musgrave and 
 me at the tail of the hounds, going for Langar, before 
 we got to the Smite. We were in the middle field that 
 goes down to the Smite. I says, " Sir James, here's the 
 Smite, will you have it ?" " We must have it," he 
 says. Mr. Lumley he comes up between us, and at 
 it he goes. He jumped the water, but he couldn't get 
 through the bulfinch on the other side : backards he 
 comes. I couldn't see him or the horse. Sir James 
 shouts, " He'll be drowned, Dick," when up he comes 
 again. I catched his horse, and out he wades, as wet 
 and as black as my hat. Well he gets on to his horse 
 as plucky as ever, just as he was ; off he gets, runs 
 back again ; I didn't know for my life what he was 
 at. Blame me, if he didn't dive in, head foremost, to 
 find his right stirrup ; he fishes it out of five-feet water, 
 buckles it on, and over he goes again. He got through 
 the bulfinch that time, and they killed the fox at 
 Colston Bassett. Well, some of the gentlemen gave 
 him their flask, and they persuaded him to gallop back 
 to Belvoir and change. That'ull be nigh twenty years 
 since : I met him some four years after, when Mr. 
 Foljambe's hounds met at Grove, and I says, " Do 
 you recollect the Smite, sir?" "That I do ; I 
 should like such a ducking again." So I told all 
 the gentlemen about it : how amused they were ! I 
 never saw such a thing in my born days. Well, 
 I can't beat that, so I must go now ; they'll be 
 waiting up for me. If I think of anything more, I'll 
 send and tell you. And with these words the 
 Professor and I parted. 
 
 And so our history of horn and hound, the racer 
 and the starting-post, and 'their countless devotees of 
 every shade and hue, has come to an end at last. A 
 
Dick Lhristiaris Lecture. 367 
 
 moral would have been out of place, and hence we 
 felt that we could not wind up better than by the 
 above characteristic combination of precept and anec- 
 dote, and trust that our rare old Centaur of a lecturer 
 will not be forgotten in his old age by the foxhunters 
 of England. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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