COL. ANSTRUTHER THOMSON 83 



fall with. Mr. Ratcliffe, our next friend, rode beauti- 

 fully, but had a bad horse. So Captain Crofton's 

 won, rode by Mr. Autley, neither of whom we cared 

 about. The fourth horse was a Bermudian's, with 

 an American jockey, who everybody expected would 

 do something unfair, as such things are allowed in 

 America ; but, on the contrary, he lost very good- 

 naturedly. Then there was a hurdle race, which 

 Lord Mark did win, and a third race. This was all 

 charming, and I could not help thinking what I would 

 have given ten years ago to have seen so many 

 certain and undeniable partners for the approaching 

 ball. A new friend is Mr. Paget, in the Artillery, 

 brother to the maid-of-honour, good-looking and con- 

 ceited ; never wishes to be ten miles from London, 

 and always keeps his mouth open. Then there is 

 dear, good-humoured Mr. Baring, covered with 

 turquoises ; and fat Captain Crespigny, and a silly 

 Major Home, and a solemn Captain Gordon of 

 Park, and Captain Birdmore, with Valenciennes 

 ruffles (is that the fashion ?), besides all the sailors ; 

 and there is a rarity, a civilian, Mr. Kennedy, the 

 flagship's eldest brother, visiting his uncle, who is 

 Colonial Secretary here ; scarcely been out of Ire- 

 land, and so entertaining ; he has been travelling, 

 and has discovered why the Yankees eat so quick 

 it is because they keep their mouths for eating and 

 speak with their noses ! All his discoveries are in 

 the same vein with a strong brogue. We mis- 

 managed our affairs sadly, except my aunt, who said 



she was tired and would dine on the cold meat we 



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