Blood Sires. 205 



lad taK the shine out of Brummagem buttons!" roared 

 a knot of burly Shropshire men who stood close be- 

 side him at the cords, as Birmingham went tearing 

 past them at Banshee's girths, and pulling himself to 

 pieces ; and the " parson's lad's" response of " Thank 

 you, gentlemen, /'// take the running precious soon out 

 of this Mr. All/taste" was amply verified when they 

 came round again. He adopted the name of Wynn 

 for some property ; but his horses, of whom he had a 

 great many good ones, still ran in his brother's name. 

 The sport was a perfect passion with him ; in a morn- 

 ing you would find him riding on his old white mare 

 round the paddocks with the stud groom, and as they 

 used to have endless racing and pedigree discussions, 

 the latter took care to arm himself, as he put on his 

 hat and gaiters, with the Book and Sheet Calendar in 

 either pocket. He also kept a pack of harriers ; and 

 as soon as his racers, which always stood at home in 

 the winter, had been attended to, the whole posse 

 comitatus would sally out to find a hare, and there 

 was no lack of good cheer in the servants' hall on 

 their return. Never was any man so delighted as 

 when his favourite mare Signorina beat Lord Dar- 

 lington's high-priced Memnon for the Manchester 

 Cup. After the race he escorted her back to scale, 

 and as her jockey was unsaddling, he gave her a fond 

 slap under the tail, and said, "How much for the 

 Leger winner? What do you think of the old Welsh 

 parson and his Welsh mare now ? they can beat every 

 one of you. Can t we, old girl ?" The Church used 

 to furnish an equally enthusiastic representative in 

 the shape of Parson Harvey. He was always dressed 

 in full clerical costume, though he was a sad sloven, 

 and cared very little for his cloth, in either sense of 

 the word. He was perpetually to be seen riding his 

 dearly beloved Phantom in a hood in Hyde Park, and 

 at one time he had this horse and three other sires 

 in his Pimlico stables. No man had a happier knack 



