480 ASHGILL; OR, THE LIFE 



struggling. If John Osborne is an observant student 

 of character, how oft will it amuse him to behold the 

 up-to-date fashionable light-weight of the present day, 

 apeing the manners of his betters? Does he smile at 

 the oliamond pins which bedeck the neck-tie, the 

 "sparkler" that dazzles on his finger, the elaborate 

 topcoat, the patent leather boots, the Brobdignagian 

 cigar that he puffs with the air of a lord as he swaggers 

 about in his inflated vanity ? It was once cleverly said 

 that your modern jockey of the first class is in general 

 a living advertisement of the gratitude of his friends, 

 and his residence is as much a museum of their favours 

 as that of a fashionable curate is of the needlework of 

 the fairer portion of his congregation. Your modern 

 jockey's cellar is full of the rarest champagnes, and his 

 port wine is of a vintage that would satisfy the most 

 exacting palate of a gourmet. He is courted by 

 millionaires, flattered by noblemen, and surrounded by 

 sharps and flats. Little wonder he becomes so vain 

 as to imagine the world was made for him alone ; that 

 the fate of an empire depends upon his winning of a 

 wretched five-furlong " sprint " for a 200 Plate. 

 Mark the fate of that poor deluded mannikin! His 

 diamonds, his swagger toilet, his champagne, and his 

 ports and his big cigars do not escape notice. He is 

 being watched. Ere long his star of popularity and 

 faith in him will wane, he will sink into that depth of 

 neglect and misery and shame which many a promising 

 youth before him has done. In drawing this not over- 

 coloured picture, the mind's eye takes in quite a little 

 host of jockeys that have burst from the chrysalis of the 

 stable-yard, in like manner only to live an ephemeral 

 life, and then evaporate. Jockeys of this age and of 

 ages to come may take John Osborne as a model to 



