XTbe Barls of Xonsbale ^ss 



and denote that this is the starting-point, as it is also 

 the finishing one. Our drag is drawn up in an adjoin- 

 ing gateway, and a clump of Scotch pines shelters us 

 from the wind. * A mile or more of brown road, hemmed 

 in on each side by the white snow, stretches away up 

 the hill, and disappears beyond the brow. Some pre- 

 liminaries have to be gone through ; two of the teams 

 have to reach the further end of the course, and the 

 road has to be cleared ; a more good-humoured crowd 

 could not be imagined — lots of chaff, never a solitary 

 policeman to be seen, and never a moment when one is 

 wanted. 



' At last everything is in readiness ; we assemble round 

 the time-keeper ; there is a cry of " He's off! " and we 

 see Lord Lonsdale, in blue spectacles, dash by in his " one 

 horse shay." It seems but another second, and old War- 

 paint settling down in his stride is disappearing over the 

 distant hill. He is out of sight, and now we have twenty 

 minutes to wait before he will appear again, which time 

 is not ill spent alongside of the refreshment hamper. A 

 day or two ago very few people believed it possible to do 

 the twenty miles under the hour, but the business-like 

 way in which everything is arranged seems to have altered 

 that opinion, and we cannot get even a modest sovereign 

 on the event. Watches are consulted, until in a few 

 minutes more we may expect the returning sportsman to 

 appear in sight. Yonder he comes over the brow of the 

 hill. Nearer and nearer come the flying team, scattering 

 with their heels the dirt that forms a halo round the car- 

 riage. There is a cry of " Clear the course ! " a rush to take 

 up positions, and the next second the pair of mares 

 flash by. The mud-bespattered nobleman urges them 

 on till the post is passed, and then with a '' whoa" and a 



2 E 



