Mr. Metal. 115 



as the second bottle made its appearance. ^' Poor 

 Lord Dreadnought ! Fine, honourable young fellow, 

 gentlemen — owes me seven thou', he does ; and I give you 

 my word I don't care whether he pays me or not. 

 Brass and Stitch, the bookmakers treated him uncommon 

 bad, warning him off the Heath as they did — too bad it 

 was. I had a bet with him on the Middle Park one year 

 — 6 to 4 in thousands he laid me on his mare, Jane Heyre, 

 who was such a blazin' favourite that year, you recollect. 

 Now, he never put it down in his book, but / did in mine, 

 and the mare lost, and the poor Marquis he dropped a 

 heap o' money — a heap o' money — over it. Well, I 

 reminded him of it afterwards, and instead of shufflin' over 

 it and disputin' it, as a lot I could mention would have — 

 not having it down in his book, mind you — what did he 

 do ? Why, he hup and said, ' Quite right, Metal — quite 

 correct. I'll pay.' And pay he did ; and he's a honerable 

 feller, gentlemen — a honerable feller, that's what I call him. 

 'Ere's his 'ealth ; and may he soon get round, and long be 

 a h'ornament to the British Turf! " 



Metal owns and runs a few horses on his own account, 

 but, good judge though he is, he is extraordinarily unlucky 

 with his own cattle. If he has one well in in a big handi- 

 cap, it is sure to go wrong the day before ; or a promising 

 youngster makes his first appearance in a two year old race 

 at Newmarket, and Metal, striding into the ring to back him, 

 finds he has been forestalled, and has to take a short price 

 about him. He has three or four of his thorough-breds that 

 are not much good at racing, up for his own and Arabella's 

 riding, and nice games that young lady has with them 

 sometimes. She is a good horsewoman, with one excep- 

 tion — her hands — which, as her father says, are like Kiron. 



I — 2 



