•SO THE LIFE OF A RACEHOESE. 



" Eigliteen hundred," loudly broke in the Israelite, jerking 

 liis hat on one side, and looking rather flushed and defiant. 



The auctioneer began to smile. 



" Eighteen hundred guineas are bid for Sheet Anchor with. 

 his engagements, and he's to be sold." 



" Two thousand." 



The auctioneer bowed slightly towards a tall, gentleman-like 

 person, although dressed most strangely, in a pink and white 

 broad-striped shii't, in the front of which were two immense 

 gold and enamelled brooches of mounted racehorses. Low 

 upon his head, a shaggy white beaver hat was squeezed, and his 

 neck was totally devoid of anything bearing the smallest resem- 

 blance to a cravat. A snuff-coloured, cut-away coat, light 

 waistcoat, silver drab knee-breeches and gaiters — the latter 

 purposely left unfastened to crease about his ancles and feet, 

 and exhibit a white silk stocking of the finest texture — com- 

 pleted the eccentric costume of one who has long since gone, 

 and left his chair unoccupied. 



*' Two thou — ^" the auctioneer caught the offer before it 

 fairly fell from the lips of the speaker — " twenty-one hundred 

 guineas are bid for Sheet Anchor, with his engagements, and 

 he's to be sold," added he. 



I remarked that the Jew's restless dark eyes grew brighter, 

 and his cheeks crimsoned more deeply as the competition in- 

 creased. With his lips pressed together, he looked as if making 

 some secret calculation, and then, with a kind of reluctant re- 

 solve, nodded to the tenant of the rostrum. 



" And fefty — twenty-one hundred and fefty guineas are bid. 

 Going," cried the auctioneer, lifting his ivory hammer. "Any 

 more?" 



There was a pause, a long ominous pause, and men cast 

 wistful, searching glances towards each other; but not a 

 word was spoken. 



"Going," repeated the auctioneer, in a manner of mingled 

 blandness and satisfaction, "going," and the ivory hammer rose 

 several degrees as he emphatically delivered the present tense of 

 the well-known verb. "Any morel" 



