My First Steeple-chaser, 99 



him away from the only subjects he cared much to talk about, I 

 was struck with the justice and soundness of the remarks which fell 

 from his lips. He was, in fact, but one specimen of a class unfor- 

 tunately too common — a class of men who have been well brought 

 Ep in their youth, but having abandoned all to the fascinations of a 

 sporting life, find themselves m a few years drawn into a vortex from 

 which they can never extricate themselves, and linked in irrevocably 

 with associates whom tliey can never shake off. Study the private 

 history of a hundred such men, and we shall find that in ninety 

 cases a woman has accelerated the fall. So it was with Tom. 



The morning was dull and mild 5 a heavy dew hung on the 

 hedges, and little globes of water, pure and clear as crystal, stood 

 on every turnip-top. The old uncle prophesied that it would be 

 very nasty riding in the deep woodlands this day, and thought Tom 

 was as well at home 3 but he wanted to see a friend or two before 

 he started for the race, and he left the house at nine as gay as a lark. 

 I was to spend the day and dine with the old man, and to while 

 away the time I took up my gun and strolled over his farm. But 

 the turnips were like a river, the birds were as wild as hawks, and 

 in an hour or two I came back with an empty bag. The old man 

 was a little nervous and fidgety the whole day 3 and old Sam did 

 not mend matters, for he went croaking about, abusing his old 

 master for buying horses which were fit for nobody to ride, and 

 prophesying that the new nag, which he hated the sight of, would 

 be the death of some one or other, before they had done with him. 

 There's more truth than we are aware of in the old saying, that 

 "coming events cast their shadows before 5" and the dulness of 

 this morning was a fitting prelude to the melancholy finish of the 

 day. Two o'clock came, without Tom making his appearance, and 

 after half an hour's grace we sat down to dinner without him. Just 

 before we sat down, however, a red-coat pulled up to tell us that 

 the hounds had found in Waverley Wood a ringing fox, who hung 

 about it the whole morning, and as he did not see much chance of 

 their getting him away, he had left them in the wood. Soon after 

 two more red-coats pulled up to tell us that the hounds had whipped 



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