THE HUMOURS OF THE RACECOURSE 87 



live with my horse ; for I know I have the speed of 

 all here. But I must take a strong pull down this 

 hill ; for we ha.ve not been coming over Newmarket 

 flat." Pavis's horse is going sweetly, and the 

 Yorkshireman, Scott, lying well up. But where is 

 Chifney ? O, like Christmas, he's coming, creeping 

 up in his usual form, and getting the blind side of 

 Harry Edwards ! Chappie is here on a Dangerous 

 horse, and John Day, with a strain of old Prunella. 

 It is a terrible race ! There are seven in front 

 within the distance, and nothing else has a chance 

 to win. The set-to begins ; they are all good ones. 

 Whips are at work — the people shout — hearts throb 

 — ladies faint — the favourite is beat — white jacket 

 with black cap wins. 



' Now a phalanx of cavalry descend the hill to- 

 wards the grand stand, with " Who has won ? " in 

 each man's mouth. " Hurrah ! " cries one, '' my 

 fortune is made ! " "I am a ruined man ! " says 

 another, pulling up with a jerk. " Scoundrel that I 

 was to risk such a sum ! 0, how shall I face my 

 poor wife and children ? I'll blow ni}^ brains out ! " 

 But where is the owner of the winning horse ? He 

 is on the hill, on his coach-box; but he will not 

 believe it till twice told. " Hurrah ! " he exclaims, 

 throwing his hat into the air. A gipsy hands it to 

 him. It is in the air again, and the gipsy catches 

 it, and half a sovereign besides, as she hands it 

 to him once more. " Heaven bless your honour ! " 



