THE HUMOURS OF THE RACECOURSE 91 



dapper groom, his mane plaited, liis feet plated. I 

 mounted, proud to show myself off in a new orange 

 silk jacket and black velvet cap, an unexceptionable 

 pair of leathers and boots, and a handsomely- 

 mounted whip, which I had been fortunate enough 

 to win on a former occasion. What a contrast to 

 my competitor ! Eagle came out, rough and ready 

 as a Shetland pony, with a soiled rug, his uncombed 

 mane flowing wildly about, a saddle full of patches, 

 a red surcingle, and led by a man decked out in an 

 ill-shaped overcoat, a gaudy crimson shawl, and a 

 pair of dark-coloured cord breeches, leaving a large 

 hiatus between them and a low blucher boot. The 

 jockey, who had proved the truth of his master's 

 assertion of not being "particular to a pound or 

 two," had jumped in and out of the scale, and was 

 about to mount. Never shall I forget the impression 

 produced upon my mind when I first caught a 

 glimpse of my antagonist. His real name was 

 William Pilling, although better known by the 

 sobriquet of " Natchitoches Bill," he having won, as 

 a youth, some great race at that southern meeting. 

 His dress consisted of a pink cotton jacket, a pair of 

 coarse trousers, which looked as if they had been 

 made out of bed-ticking, very long steel persuaders, 

 and a red bandanna handkerchief round his head. 

 Some little time was lost before he got comfortably 

 settled in the pigskin, for his reins had to be tied 

 to his wrists — a practice, dangerous as it is, which 



