146 ashgill; or, the life 



on the roof of the stand the proudest patricians were 

 estabhshed. The ring was stationed beneath them — 

 Hodgman on his ladder and Stephenson on his perch. 

 All were pervaded but with one idea, and their curiosity 

 was soon set at rest. Fearful of being hemmed in, John 

 Osborne had taken up a position which prevented any 

 fear of collision, but left him at enormous disadvantage, 

 for, when the flag fell, he was quite away from his 

 company, and as Bluemantle and Lee Boo took them 

 along at a cut-throat pace, the long stern chase of Lord 

 Clifden seemed perfectly hopeless, and he really seemed 

 to be beaten further and further every stride he went. 

 To the ring nothing could be more w^elcome than this 

 intelligence, but to Lord St. Vincent and his trainer 

 the torture was almost insupportable, and ' All is lost 

 now ' was the refrain of their song, as going over the 

 hill he was 150 yards from the leading horses. By the 

 time, hovs^ever, they had got on to the ' flat ' there was 

 a more favourable change in the weather, for he was 

 not the last, but the last but two. It was then and for 

 the first time that Osborne found he had a Great 

 Eastern under him, and crowding on his canvas he went 

 through the lot one after another until he had over- 

 hauled Queen Bertha. The race between them w^as not 

 long but decisive, and amidst an amount of excitement 

 unsurpassed since Voltigeur's year, * Johnnie ' came into 

 port with his ' corpse.' The scene that follows beggars 

 description, and the carrying of ' Johnnie ' into the 

 weighing-room by the mob we shall never forget, nor the 

 struggle with the policemen which Edwin Parr had 

 before he could be permitted to see him in the scale. 

 Of the cheering, the champagne, the congratulations, 

 objurgations, and maledictions that followed we need 



