54: THE LIFE OP A EACTIlorvSE. 



early i-)art ot the year; but after the decision of the Tavo 

 Thousand, the winner of that stake, Clearwell, Lccarae an 

 equally prominent favourite, and, for a time, caused me to 

 occupy second place in the list of prices. 



" You're not 'xactly what we've tried to make yer, bo-o-oy," 

 said Harry Dale, giving me a playful smack on my glossy 

 quarter, as he re-adjusted my clothes upon completing "a 

 dressing over," one morning. " You're not 'xactly what wove 

 tried to make yer, my bo-o-o}'-," repeated he ; " but that's our 

 misfortun', and not i/our fault. Yer friends, my lad-o'-wax," 

 continned Harry, " has done their parts to drive yer honoured 

 name, as you'll shove your blessed nose afore long, considerable 

 in advance, with plenty to spare, o' this rank Duffer Clear- 

 well's ; but strike-me-a-loser if it's to be done just now ! We've 

 put the pot on till it's come to thinkin' what our precious shirt 

 buttons '11 fetch at the 'amnier if" — Harry paused, and liis 

 bright red cheeks faded as he almost gasj^ed — " it should boil 

 over. But it won't," added he with a sudden flush bringing 

 back the colour. " I know it vfon't. Bobert Top says it can't, 

 and that's enough for me. He says, barring accidents, and the 

 Darby's over. But" — the scarlet hue again became dull and 

 muddy — " to be sure, accidents has to be barred, and a pebble 

 no bigger than a nut might cause one. A cold, a cough, and 

 where would be my" — Harry's eyes became fixed on vacancy, 

 and he combed back the duck's tail with the fingers of a 

 disengaged hand, while he buried the other slowly and thought- 

 fully in the adjacent pocket of his breeches. 



An empty stable-pail stood close by, and, turning it bottom 

 upwards, my attendant dropped himself gradually until he 

 occupied the centre of the seat, with his elbows resting upon 

 his knees, and his chin upon his thumbs. 



" It won't do," said he at the termination of an interval 

 which seemed to have been assigned to deep reflection; "it 

 won't do," repeated he, as if waking from a heavy sleep, " to fly 

 one's kite with one string. It mayn't break; but second 

 thoughts tell us that it may. For the public — that jolly cake as 

 bears cuttin' and comin' to again — it's all very well to back a 



