SIXTY YEARS OF THE TURF 



The arrival was a splendidly built man close on 

 six feet in his stockings. He came down dressed 

 very quietly, more resembling a parson than a 

 pugilist. His occupation was that of doorkeeper at 

 Jessop's Dancing Saloon, from which often an 

 objectionable patron had to be handed down with 

 alacrity rather than tenderness. I kept him for a 

 fortnight without needing his services. But on the 

 day of the trial I went over to see him. He was 

 very bad with ague, and looked as if, in his shaky 

 state, a boy could beat him. I told him that I was 

 going to try a horse, and I wanted Brown cleared 

 off. 



" Well, guv'nor," he said, " he's a bad 'un if he 

 can't beat me as I am." 



"It can't be helped. He may not be on view. 

 If he isn't, so much the better. If he is, you must 

 move him off." 



As soon as I saw my trainer, Balchin, he cried : 

 " That Brown's there, hiding in the furzes." 



I went to him and tried persuasion. But he only 

 cursed me. So resort was had to force. 



" I want this man," I said to the Londoner, " to 

 go to the bottom of the hill." 



" What are you doing there ? " he sharply queried. 

 " Get up ! " And he roused him with his foot. 



Brown sprang up to strike at the pugilist, but 



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