124 THE POST AND THE PADDOCK. 



the head of a table. The quaint old toast of " I 

 drink to Cardinal Puff " may be said to have died 

 with him, and perhaps there is hardly a man alive 

 who would know how to propose it with all its intri- 

 cate but graceful honours. Thomas Goodisson was 

 his favourite jockey, and won the Derby for him by 

 a head on Moses, after making his own running 

 nearly all the way. He had carried off this race 

 six years before, with Prince Leopold, who was such 

 a bad-tempered animal that he was placed in Sche- 

 dule G. next season, and died in consequence. His 

 Highness got well on him at all prices from 30 to 20 

 to 1, and won about 8,000 over the race. The 

 fancy of the Duchess was dogs and monkeys, and 

 she is said to have had nearly a hundred favourites 

 of the kind at Oatlands, which had a small cemetery 

 especially devoted to their remains. This dog expe- 

 rience did not always avail her husband, as, to his 

 great sorrow, he once shot the Duke of Rutland's 

 liver-coloured Venus dead at a Cheveley battue, under 

 the same hare delusion which made Professor Sedg- 

 wick fire fourteen times in one afternoon at a keeper's 

 gaiters. 



Nearly thirty years before his Moses victory, the 

 Duke made his celebrated Northern visit, in company 

 with the Prince of Wales, who had the satisfaction 

 of seeing Sir Thomas (his Derby victor of the pre- 

 ceding year) and Tot win three races over Rawcliffe 

 Ings. Such days of pleasure and nights of revelry 

 have never since wakened up the sober old capital of 

 the Tykes ; and even " The Farren " never received 

 the plaudits of a more brilliant assembly than that 

 which crowded the boxes of its dingy little theatre 

 to witness her Beatrice. And yet the festivities of 

 Old Ebor paled before those of Wentworth House. 

 Twenty thousand spectators ate their fill, and drank 

 eighty hogsheads of ale in the Park ; bonfires turned 

 night into day in its avenues ; ten thousand coloured 

 lamps gleamed in its corridors, and the quiet card 



