THE GRAND NATIONAL. 119 



thcit but for a swerve at the last hurdle, when he lost 

 a stirrup iron, he would have won. 



But rvlr. Thomas won't admit this at all. To 

 quote his own words, "The Huntsman, in reality, 

 lost very little ground when he hit the last hurdle, 

 and I had won to all intents and purposes before we 

 came to it. Anatis took it in her stride in grand 

 form, and I had only to be very patient with her, 

 I knew, and she would stay home. Had I ridden 

 her really hard for fifty yards, she would ha\^e 

 collapsed." 



That Captain Townely himself was not quite easy 

 in his mind was, we think, proved by his shouting 

 out to Mr. Thomas, who had jumped on to the race- 

 course just ahead of hini — in a jocular spirit of 

 course — " Toiuiny, you little devil, is a thousand any 

 good to you ? " 



In telling the story against himself, the Captain 

 would add with a chuckle, " But Toju/uy was too 

 dusy to reply / " 



"And dear old Tom was quite right," says 

 Mr. Pickernell in his turn, " I was much too busy 

 with the mare to answer him, or even look round." 



The presence of a full-fiedged parson amongst 

 the riders in a Grand National field is not an e\ery- 

 day occurrence, and few possibly were aware at the 



