The Life of a Great Sportsman 



Richardson to back the horse for the Liverpool, quite con- 

 trary to his usual custom — for no one liked a gamble better 

 or could scent a "good thing" more readily than Jimmy 

 Barber — steadily declined to take the hint, so if he was left 

 out in the cold, no one was to blame but himself. 



In after years he had a mare named Fan, and on one 

 occasion, when well fancied for the Grand National, for which 

 in a previous year she had been placed, with a view to making 

 the race a greater certainty for her than it already looked, 

 her eccentric owner sallied forth in the dead of night on 

 the eve of the event, accompanied by one or two other con- 

 spirators all armed with hatchets, with the object of cutting 

 down the obstacles on the course. Just as they were busily 

 engaged in this nefarious scheme, what was their astonish- 

 ment, when the sound of " chop, chop, chop " in the distance 

 suddenly made them aware that another party of sportsmen (?), 

 presumably connected with another promising candidate, were 

 hard at work with the same object in view, as in Fan's 

 case. 



Whether the two forces foregathered and acted in concert 

 I am not aware, but it is satisfactory to know that the scheme, 

 so far from attaining its object, in all probability played into 

 the hands of the winner, Fan, as she had done in previous 

 years, refusing at the first or second fence with more obstinacy 

 than ever. 



Jimmy Barber was a most eccentric character, and long 

 after he had ceased to own racehorses was a regular attendant 

 at the principal race meetings, especially at Newmarket, where 

 his quaint* figure, garbed in a swallow-tailed coat of antique 

 pattern, shepherd's plaid combinations, and wearing a very 

 tall and ill-brushed hat, and with a thick stick in his ungloved 

 hands, was always a familiar feature of the place. On a wet 



I02 



