G4 The Pride of Our Village. 



to be true, for I had it from the noble owner. At Don- 

 caster he was restless and off his feed, and great fears were 

 entertained that he had been got at, when one of the stable- 

 boys said to the trainer, '' He's a-looking for his kitten." 



On the chance, a telegram w^as sent to the training 

 stables, two hundred and fifty miles off, for someone to 

 come at once by first express train with the kitten : and 

 the boy turned out to be right. Dh^ectly the kitten was 

 out of his basket and saw the horse, he jumped on his 

 back, ran over his head, and was on the manger in a 

 moment, and began patting his nose, and the horse was 

 quiet at once, and fed as well as ever. 



Of course every real racing man will see that this sketch 

 — which is true in every detail — is so ear-marked that 

 there can be no doubt as to the name of the owner and of 

 the favourite ; but I purposely have not put the real names, 

 because, first, I never put people's names (except on public 

 matters) in print without their leave ; and, secondly, be- 

 cause I want to baulk our friend the sporting (?) penny-a- 

 liner, who would talk about " that prince of sportsmen and 

 good fellow Lord Blank ; " just as he icill, in some hunting 

 account of some run which he describes from the hearsay 

 evidence of some "beery" underwhip — having himself pro- 

 bably seen nothing more of hounds and huntsmen than a 

 glimpse of them passing a tap-room window at which he 

 and the pot-bo}" were sitting-— take in vain the names of 

 numbers of gentlemen to whom he never spoke in his life. 

 But there is a moral to this. See how happily the world 

 goes when the parson and squii^e pull together, and when, 

 as in this case, the owner of the favourite went out of his 

 way almost to avoid offending the honest prejudices of the 

 parson. 



Note. — There is a pleasant reminiscence about this article. Lord 

 St. Vincent, one of the kindest men who ever lived, was owner of 



