132 * ON AND OFF THE TURF. 



The young bloods are all quiet and docile, and 

 tbey canter up to "the Squire'' and put their noses 

 into his pocket in search of dainties they often find 

 there. The majority of them will stand to be stroked, 

 and then at a wave of the hat they are sent ofi" at a 

 wild gallop round their domain. Old Noah Beal, the 

 head man, is a regular patriarch, and must be con- 

 siderably over seventy. He can spin yarns by the 

 hour about old racing celebrities in the days when 

 matches were all the go, and horses ran two or three 

 heats in a day over a couple of miles. Noah Beal has 

 been amongst horses all his life, and has trained and 

 looked after some of the best. 



From the paddocks we go on to the racecourse 

 and walk round the track and see the horses cantering 

 for afternoon exorcise. The stable-yard opens on to 

 the track, and there are a dozen or more horses in 

 full work. There is Donizetti, the chestnut son of 

 Marvellous, as fast as the wind, but a regular fraud. 

 He turns up the white of his eyes and lashes out as 

 I attempt to enter his box. 



** You recollect the mile race he won at Rand- 

 wick ? '' said Mr. Forrester. 



" Rather," I replied, " when he beat Projectile.'* 



"Well, I did not win a copper in bets over him. 

 If I had not known too much I should have had a 

 big win. They were flooded at Chipping Norton 

 track (the Hon. W. A. Long's place adjoining the 



