REMINISCENCES OF SONEPORE. 



versally regretted, both by his brother professionals and the 

 patrons of the turf. Mr. Lethorn, the sporting contractor, 

 was there in full fig, a marvel of the tailor's art, his striped 

 unmentionables being really things of beauty, while a Jew slop- 

 shopkeeper would have wept over his coats. With long Oscar 

 Dignam to train, and ride for him, and such horses as Karpos, 

 Call, Echo, Verbies, the Arabs Abu Jenab, and Abdool 

 Rahmon, Mr. Lee looked like sweeping the board. Curiously 

 enough we had at that time on the turf, three men, of a class 

 we have never before or since seen on it, and going big licks 

 too, Lethorn, " Bricky " Collins and " Porky " Joe Rainford, all 

 contractors, with not a single aspirate between them, but as true 

 and straight a trio of sportsmen, as ever owned a racer. They 

 raced for the sheer love of it, ran straight as dies, backed 

 their horses pluckily, got periodically stoney, then away 

 they would go, make fresh oof by their profession, and hie 

 back to the turf to spend it. I take my hat off to you 

 Lethorn, Collins, and Rainford, rough and ready as you 

 were, many of your so-called superiors racing in those 

 days, might with advantage have followed the bright example 

 set by you three good men and true. Swipey Bill Brewty, 

 best man on Arabs that ever threw leg over them, was 

 to the fore with some of the lovely desert steeds of H.H. Aga 

 Khan of Bombay, among them Dervish, Silvertail, and Jiram. 

 Mr. Frost, who was Mr. Macalister of the Calcutta ice house, 

 had in charge of Keats, Syrian, and the afterwards, over a 

 country, invincible Kilmore. Of local horses, there were very 

 few, though Messrs. Butler and John, who were beginning to 

 show that in times to come they would be bad to beat, had one 

 or two good ones, particularly a chestnut Australian called 

 Revenge, and a nice looking brown called Planet, who was 

 unfit. The combination was a good one, for few better judges 

 of a horse ever breathed than Arthur Butler, and few finer 

 horsemen than his partner Jimmy McLeod, the Laird of Lall 



