THE EARL OF GLASGOW. 93 



spirits as the late Marquis of Queensberry, Lord Kennedy, Sir William 

 and Sir John Heron Maxwell, and Sir James Boswell, "the nodes 

 ambrosiance of Blackwood were put in the shade, and claret enough 

 drank to exhaust a chateau." That daring soul, Lord Kennedy, 

 was then in his zenith, ready to shoot, or walk, or drive, or ride, 

 against any mortal man for any conceivable sum, and his lordship 

 found in his host, Lord Kelbume, a foeman with a long purse, ready 

 for him at any hour of the day or night. The later the hour, the 

 wilder the bet ; and a biographer of Lord Glasgow's tells the following 

 story of a mad wager, worthy of Jack Mytton. One night, after the 

 " magnum " had been in strong force, a warm dispute arose between 

 Lord Kelburne and Lord Kennedy as to the merits of their respective 

 coachmanship. Of course, a match for £500 was the only means of 

 testing the question ; and, although it was "past twelve o'clock, and a 

 stormy night," as the old Charlies would have said, two coaches and 

 teams were ordered out from the neighbouring hotel, and the pair 

 started on their journey. The night was dark as Erebus, but their 

 lordships started off as though it were daylight. The vehicles 

 swayed about as if they would topple over every minute, the road was 

 barely wide enough to allow two waggons to pass ; they had frequent 

 collisions, but no upsets. Lord Kelburne (Glasgow) was winning 

 easily when he arrived at the top of a hill where two roads met, one 

 leading to the sea the other to the town of Ardrossan, where the 

 match was to terminate. Unfortunately, with that ill-luck which 

 followed him through life, he chose the wrong road, lost his wager, 

 and with difficulty stopped the coach and horses from being upset 

 into the bay. 



As the master of the Renfrewshire Hounds, he distinguished himself 

 by his liberal management ; but if anything went wrong with the 

 sport, he would immediately turn upon the huntsman, and chase that 

 devoted man, thong in hand, half a league over hedge and fallow. 

 But it was on the turf that Lord Glasgow was most familiar to the 

 people of England. For upwards of fifty years he figured as an 

 owner of horses. During that period he spent hundreds of thousands 

 of pounds upon breeding and training racehorses, and yet not one of 

 the three great events fell to his " white body, crimson sleeves and 

 cap." The greatest victory of his life was in the York Subscription 

 Purse, when Harry Edwards, on his lordship's Act?eon, defeated by 

 a head the terrific rush of Sam Chifney on Memnon. The best 

 horse he ever possessed was General Peel, who, in 1864, won the 

 Two Thousand Guineas, and ran second to Blair Athol, both for the 

 Derby and the St. Leger. Lord Glasgow's fickleness was proverbial 

 — he was perpetually changing his trainers and jockeys. No one 

 was so wayward and difficult to please, or so munificent when he was 

 pleased. His trainers " came and went like the simoom," till at 

 last men of standing in the profession would not engage themselves 

 to him without a guarantee for at least three years. When he had 

 gone the round he would come back to the old ones, although he had 



