SIXTY YEARS ON THE TURF 



Emigrant. Naturally I was in no mood for inter- 

 ference, especially from people I did not know, and 

 I asked Mr. Hodgson to go away. But he refused 

 to budge an inch, and poked his face into mine, 

 with, " And what was Emigrant doing at 

 Worcester ? " 



At Worcester, I may explain, the weather was 

 extremely bad, and owing to the wet and the cold 

 the reins slipped from the hands of his rider, who 

 came off. The horse was quickly remounted, and in 

 the end only suffered a narrow defeat. I may also 

 add that at the time Emigrant was not mine, but 

 the property of Ben Land. This by way of 

 explanation. 



But to return to Mr. Hodgson, and the trouble 

 that his temper brought upon him. " What," he 

 repeated, "was he doing at Worcester? What are 

 you laying him for the National for ? Is it to be 

 Worcester over again ? " He then fell back on 

 abuse, and, working himself up into a pitch of un- 

 controllable excitement, exclaimed, shaking his fist 

 in my face, " I'll give it you — by G — d, I will ! — 

 before you leave this room," I merely laughed at 

 him, and took no notice of his threats. Like a man 

 half demented he strode up and down the room, 

 breathing vengeance, until Mr. Drinkald came to me 

 and said, " Hodgman, I believe that man will hit 



130 



