In a Bacing Stable. 67 



We are now looking out of the trainer's drawing-room 

 window on to a magnificent sweep of down country, which 

 commands a grand view of over more than one county. The 

 hour is eleven, and it is Sunday morning. 



A long string of horses in single file are coming back to 

 the stables, past the drawing-room window, each horse rid- 

 den by the boy who attends to him except two, on one of 

 which sits the trainer and on another his father, who has 

 gone beyond the Psalmist's allowance of life by some years, 

 but who — like the retired tallow-chandler who bargained 

 to attend the place of business " on dipping days " — always 

 rides a horse at exercise every morning. 



Old fogies who read the Orlando and Running Rein 

 trial, over thirty years ago, will remember that much 

 laughter was caused by a witness explaining to the judge 

 that they never " sweated horses " on a Sunday, but only 

 walked them. I went on Sunday morning because the 

 horses are all walked early, and come in at eleven, and the 

 stables shut at noon or soon after, so that I could see them 

 all being cleaned. 



Whether there were fifty or seventy horses or more I 

 could not tell, as I walked from stable to stable, each of which 

 was so much like the other that there was no means of 

 CQunting the number ; and, moreover, I did not wish to 

 count, reasoning that when a man invites one behind the 

 scenes to see that which is not shown to the general public, 

 the golden rule is, "Ask no questions." 



My friend very kindly showed me everything which would 

 interest a novice, and gave me the names of many horses, 

 with an account of their performances and engagements, 

 and when he did not give me the names I never asked him. 



The most striking feature about a racing stable to my 

 mind is the discipline and oixler. There was a place for 

 everything, and everything was expected to be in its place. 

 F— 2 



