THEODORE'S ST. LEGER. 



If you had searched all England through on the morning of 

 September i6, 1822, you would hardly have found a more 

 miserable and dejected person than the little man who, about 

 ten o'clock in the forenoon, was strolling moodily down the 

 High-street of Uoncaster. And yet all the surroundings were 

 calculated to produce feelings the reverse of melancholy. It 

 was the morning of the St. Leger day ; the sun was shining 

 gloriously ; Doncaster was crammed with eager sportsmen, and 

 never had there been such a brilliant gathering of rank and 

 fashion in the old Yorkshire racing town before ; for royalty 

 itself had deigned to favour the meeting with its presence and 

 its smiles. Nevertheless, the little man had good cause for being 

 depressed. He was John Jackson, the famous Yorkshire jockey, 

 and the veteran hero of no less than seven St. Legers, who, 

 thirty years before, had won the great race for Mr. Hutchinson 

 on Young Traveller. No jockey at that time could show any- 

 thing like such a score of Leger wins as John Jackson, though 

 he was destined to be subsequently eclipsed by Bill Scott, and 

 he had fondly hoped that he might add another to his laurels 

 this year on one of Mr. Gascoigne's pair, either of which he 

 thought was good enough to win with himself in the saddle. 

 But Mr. Petre had first call upon his services, and had commis- 

 sioned him to ride Theodore — Theodore the butt of every betting- 

 man, the laughing-stock of every stable-boy. For had not Jim 

 Bland that very morning in the Salutation contemptuously bet 

 100 guineas to a shilling walking-stick against Theodore? And 

 the bet had been booked amid roars of laughter, while 500 to 5 

 was the current price, and the liberal offer went begging ! The 

 thought of that 100 to a walking-stick was gall and wormwood 

 to Jackson, and his bitter mortification was increased when he 

 learnt that Mr. Petre himself had made over his betting-book, 

 with a bonus, to Mr. Wyville, only too glad to rid himself of 

 such a hopeless bargain. Unlike his famous contemporary and 



