58 The Pride of Our Village. 



keepers — all ISTorth-countrymen, slow to speak and quick to 

 act — ^had gone down with him to form a body-guard, and 

 prevent the ^possibility of the horse being got at. 



On looking out of my window on the morning of that 

 memorable Derby Day, the only thing visible was one 

 pei-petual stream of rain, which looked like endless small 

 bell-ropes which were pouring down from a dark-brown 

 ceiling, which w^as called by courtesy a sky. Talk about a 

 wet day — this was a concentration of all the cataracts in 

 the world, sent by atmospheric pressure through miles of 

 colossal cullenders. Ladies, as ladies always do, with their 

 usual unselfishness, Avere deploring the spoiling of a holiday, 

 which a guest of mine — a parson — and myself were going* 

 to enjoy at Epsom, and could not understand how I kept 

 up my spirits and whistled with keen delight, as I arrayed 

 myself in an old fishing dress, which consisted of waterproof 

 boots which came up to my knees over my trousers, a tar- 

 paulin coat which reached to my heels, and a very much- 

 worn waterproof wideawake, with sloping sides, like a 

 beefsteak pudding, two sizes too large for my head ; the 

 combined dress making me look about as big a blackguard 

 as any who started for the Downs that day. 



I was perfectly indifferent to everything during the 

 journey down, utterly unmindful of people who offered me 

 correct cards, or Fundi or the latest sporting paj)er, or 

 tracts warning me of certain perdition if I w^ent to the 

 Derby. Weather, and eating and drinking, were things of 

 nought. One thing only was on my mind, which was the 

 sight which I saw in December, of our favourite going like 

 lightning through mud and slush, and against weather as- 

 bad as we could have that day, and I made up my mind he 

 would do it again. 



Once having gained Barnard's Stand, and having estab- 

 lished myself in a good place next to a post, high up,. 



