402 ashgill; or, the life 



broadsheet for the year 1844 — fifty years ago, my 

 masters — could step forward in '94, and answer " Yes " 

 to the roll call. Little dreamt the writer in making the 

 statement that there was such a grand stayer as Harry 

 Hall yet to the fore. Fifty years ago the master of 

 Spigot Lodge trained for the late Mr. Headlam, and is 

 yet in the flesh to tell the tale. Nay, more, behold him 

 here with fourteen of his horses under orders to take 

 part at the meeting ! There's a lot of the Tim Whifiler 

 and Van Galen blood about the sage of Spigot Lodge. 

 None of your flash five-furlong gentry — up to weight 

 over the Beacon course. Perhaps not so speedy as he 

 was fifty years ago, but a stayer and game as ever. " A 

 new hat, Harry, you have four or five winners in your 

 team this week." The old boy declines the wager, but 

 does not despair, if one may calculate from the quiet 

 smile of confidence that hghts up his physiognomy, of 

 troubling Judge Ford's optics in the right place at the 

 finish. 



Like John Osborne, the Spigot Lodge stayer is 

 without a Plate horse. He had been devoting his 

 attention to Dare Devil, and had got Robert the Devil's 

 son as nearly cherry-ripe as possible. But his hopes 

 were dashed to the ground when the old horse gave 

 way after a strong Yorkshire gallop, and perforce had 

 the pen put through his name. But if he has not a 

 Plate vdnner in his long string this morning, look at 

 Xury. There's a trim-built little fellow for you, all 

 quality and a gentleman all over. " Win the North 

 Derby, Harry, eh ? " Very like, very like. Now the 

 show is getting into full swing. The canters are going 

 on, but where is the galloping ? Fact is, dear reader, 

 the galloping has all been done before the gee-gees 

 arrived on the scene. This morning they are simply 



