60 The Post and the Paddock. 



fourteen picked afternoons in the course of the year, 

 and never bet a penny. 



The great list era, and all its attendant Ripe-for-a- 

 Jails, as Punch termed them, began with Messrs. 

 Drummond and Greville, who " kept an account at 

 the Westminster Bank," in 1847. Up to that time, 

 " sweeps," where every subscriber drew a horse for his 

 ticket, had been amply sufficient to satisfy the popular 

 thirst for speculation on a Derby or St. Leger eve ; 

 and, although in one instance we ascertained that our 

 ticket horse was a leader in a Shrewsbury coach, in- 

 stead of being " prepared," it was satisfactory to know 

 that there was at least fair play. Stimulated by the 

 example of D. and G., the licensed victuallers took it 

 up and a nice mess they made of it, with 10,000 

 " pictures," &c. till the licensing magistrates stepped 

 sternly in. From 1850 to the end of 1853 the listers 

 were in their glory ; and at one period about four 

 hundred betting-houses were open in London alone, of 

 which, perhaps, ten were solvent. Among these pro- 

 prietors, Mr. Davis never laid the odds to less than I/.; 

 one or two others adopted ios. as their limit, and some 

 5^-., while not a few would do the odds for a lad at 6d. 

 Their odds were generally very liberal, and we never 

 espied a real mistake but once, when a first-rate office 

 laid 8 to I against Teddington for the Ascot Cup a 

 fortnight before the race ! In York the system did not 

 thrive, as the Tykes generally knew too well what 

 horses were in work ; but in London, for instance, at 

 least 100 out of 150 Cesarewitch or Cambridgeshire 

 horses would be fancied, and thus the proprietor could 

 always get round. Even the appearance of a horse 

 with 200 to I against his name did not deter the ad- 

 venturous, as the luxury of the bare thought of such a 

 haul was too much to withstand. The wild fever 

 among the houses on the Saturday night when Robbie 

 Noble " came" for the Cambridgeshire, was such as we 

 can never forget. Every lister seemed to be rushing 



