NEWMARKET. 83 



of a boy who never got a pull 'at him till he'd gone the length 

 of the Flat not that he's an ounce the worse for it, indeed, 

 he can't be better. Your lordship will of course please yourself 

 about backing him, but I'd be obliged if you would allow me 

 to stand a hundred pounds with you.' 



'Amen,' responds Lord Olim, to whose charge the sin of 

 loquacity at least has never been laid. Mat looks up with a 

 twinkle in his eye. 



' I'm just hoping your lordship's colt '11 not come in where 

 they place Amen in the Prayer-book,' he says gravely, and 

 forthwith returns to Paul's box. 



Eight numbers go up. All Newmarket-trained horses, 

 with the exception of one outsider from the neighbourhood of 

 Ilsley, whom rumour affirms to be a * latter-day saint,' waiting 

 for a nursery in the Houghton. Neither his appearance nor 

 his jockey has created an impression in his favour. There 

 are three penalised winners Romanus, Osmunda (a colt with 

 a filly's name, someone observes), and Ambrosia, the mounts 

 respectively of C. Wood, Cannon, and Webb. Paul Pry, who 

 is ridden by Archer, has been successful on one previous 

 occasion, but escapes a penalty. Fordham rides Amulet, 

 who has once or twice shown good form, but has never got 

 his head first past the post ; the other three are unknown to 

 fame, though each has a select circle of professing followers. 

 Not a large field for the principal two-year-old race of the year, 

 but influenza has been rife in the stables, and the art of 

 * putting them together ' has attained, or is supposed to have 

 attained, such perfection, that many owners who formerly would 

 have started on the off chance prefer keeping their horses at 

 home, and backing whatever is (to them) incontestably fore- 

 shadowed as the winner by their private handicap books. 



As the two friends recross the Birdcage they see Mr. 

 Perkins awaiting them at the gate. The conference is of the 

 shortest. A thou' on mine, please, Perkins,' says Lord 

 Olim ; the burly commissioner bows, and with the conscious 

 air of a Newfoundland dog carrying a walking-stick, dives down 



G 2 



