Mr. Benjamin Bobbin. 129 



ites, his gallant owner having thereby landed a pot of 

 money, and did he not expect as a natural sequence that 

 the same noble animal would win the Derby ? 



Never was such a favourite as Gil Bias. The 

 Colonel looked upon the Derby and its profits in bets and 

 stakes as already in his pocket, and the idea of a beastly 

 railway running through his park was really one too many 

 for his feelings ; and he snorted, and puffed, and swore, 

 and wrote abusive letters to the company every day in 

 the week. The railway people were so impressed with 

 his language that they actually sprang ten thousand more 

 than they had first offered as compensation. But no 

 go. " Hang their money ! " would exclaim the Colonel in 

 his wrath. The Derby Day arrived. The Colonel started 

 from his lodgings in St. James's Street on the eventful 

 morning, his drag loaded with heavy swells, culled princi- 

 pally from his old regiment, the Grenadier Guards. The 

 Colonel's whiskers and moustache were curled with extra 

 care, and his face wore a look of the greatest confidence 

 as he took hold of the ribbons to tool the party down to 

 Epsom. The Downs are reached. The favourite is visited. 

 Nothing looks so well in the paddock, and five minutes 

 before that terrible bell rings the Colonel makes his last 

 bet — 5 to 4 in thousands — with Lord Fiddlededee, Gil 

 Bias against his lordship's horse. Jack in the Box, in their 

 places. 



The bell rings. They're off. What a start ! Gil Bias 

 leads round Tattenham Corner. Gil Bias wins in a 

 canter! No he don't! What about Jack in the Box? 

 ''Now, then. Jack in the Box wins for a 'monkey!'" 

 shouts the biggest man in the ring at the top of his voice. 

 My eye, what a race ! Nobody names the winner ! It's a 



