o ashgill; or, the life 



remains were laid at rest near the spot where he had 

 been tutored by the Osbornes in the rudiments of his 

 calling. 



Deviating for a moment from the story, let one 

 intrude an anecdote about Harry Grimshaw which may 

 not be uninteresting to North-country folk, who are 

 second to none in their love of a good horse and a good 

 horseman. In Gladiateur's vear the late Col. J. A. 

 Cowen (brother of ]\ir. Joseph Cowen, of Stella Hall, 

 and of the late Mr. William Cowen, who in his day was 

 a keen patron of the Turf) had been in Paris exhibiting 

 some bloodhounds, of which, in the " sixties," he was a 

 great breeder, and most successful, having at the time 

 the grandest kennel of these noble animals in the world. 

 On the return voyage across the Channel to England 

 with his bloodhounds, it so happened — the time was a 

 few days before Gladiateur's Derby — that Harry 

 Grimshaw was a fellow-passenger on the steamer. He 

 was much fascinated by the grand proportions of the 

 hounds, and introducing himself, he asked: 



"Are they quiet?" 



"As gentle as lambs," was the Colonel's reply, 

 whereat Grimshaw mounted the back of the largest of 

 them, and suiting the action to the words, as he was 

 jocularly imitating a jockey riding in a race, he said : 



" I'll ride Gladiateur home a winner in the Derby 



hke this." 



The prophecy, as history records, was a true one, 

 but Colonel Cowen, Avho never was much addicted to 

 speculation on horse flesh, did not profit to any great 

 extent by what he termed his "bloodhound tip" for 



the Derby. 



Still amongst the dead at Coverham, musing on the 

 vanity of all things mundane, we move a few steps away 



