SOME EARLY VICTORIAN OWNERS. 485 



brother John very nearly came to an untimely end himself at Doncaster in 1854. 

 Lord Derby's Acrobat was not supposed to have a chance, on previous form, for 

 the Doncaster Stakes. He won ; and the Tykes began to hiss when the jockeys 

 came back to scale. Sim Templeman whipped off his saddle, and just got through 

 in time. But when John Scott came up to the horse's head to lead him in, one 

 maddened loser shouted, " He's laughing ; look at him ! " The mob instantly became 

 furious, and a shower of blows were aimed at the unlucky, and perfectly honest 

 trainer. Jack Macdonald (who had seconded Tom Sayers) managed to knock down 

 the ringleader, but would have fared badly in the crowd had not Harry Broome, 

 then champion of England, suddenly woke to the chances of a scrimmage, hit out 

 right and left till he got to John's side, and then, with sheer hard smashes from the 

 shoulder, got the trainer through into the safety of the New Stand. 



It is difficult to believe it is so long since Langton Wold saw a trial with Brother 

 Bill up, and Brother John walking beside I'Anson's pony, until he gets into his 

 phaeton with Holmes in front, and a lemon-and- white terrier on the back seat 

 looking out for touts. For long after he had left it for ever, the Wizard's little 

 snuggery at Whitewall preserved the record of the most glorious of his days in 

 Herring's pictures looking down on the room where the jockeys were called into 

 council, and the plans for Epsom or Newmarket or Doncaster were shrewdly laid, 

 and where such men as Lord Derby, Baron Martin, Colonel Anson, Baron 

 Alderson, and many more had foregathered with the famous trainer. John Scott 

 had known some of the best men of his day in his lifetime, and he made a 

 comfortable fortune before he died. The pictures that preserve his greatest triumphs 

 still furnish a vivid recollection of his work, and it would be the basest ingratitude 

 to those who have contributed the most brilliant of my pages did I not say 

 something of the merits of the men like Herring who have enabled us to imagine 

 what those far-off winners looked like. 



Really to appreciate the "horse-painters" of the past, you must consider the 

 pages of such a collection of first-rate engravings as Mr. Tattersall's albums, a 

 " Missal of the Turf," to which I have been deeply indebted for these volumes. 

 There you may see Wootton, Stubbs, and Gilpin at their best ; Sartorius and Ben 

 Marshall ; Garrard and James Ward ; Ferneley, whose hand was happiest in hunting 

 scenes ; and Herring, who began as coachman of the London and York Highflyer, 

 and finally gave up the whip for the mahlstick in Jack Spigot's year. Lord 

 Rosebery's magnificent Flying Dutchman, which looks almost lifesize as it gallops 



