My First Stee fie -chaser. 95 



to the big fence, where the chestnut fell, and the screw cantered in 

 by himself. 



At three o'clock we left the village for the farmhouse, where we 

 meant to" stay the night 5 and as old Sam led our horse in triumph 

 out of the inn yard, he pithily observed to a group of stable-men 

 and grooms who had gathered round to see him start, " There, I 

 don't fancy you'll want us again at Findon for a twelvemonth." 

 Just as the old horse was leaving the yard, Tom walked up to his 

 head and pinned on each side of the head-stall a blue and white 

 rosette, which the old uncle mysteriously whispered to me had been 

 sent him in the morning by " that party." There was certainly 

 some value attached to these little cockades, for on going into 

 Tom's bachelor apartments a short time after the race, I observed 

 them pinned up over the bracket where his whips hungj and when- 

 ever afterwards he left home to ride the old horse in a race, they 

 accompanied him as surely as his whip and spurs, and generally 

 decorated the horse's head as he returned home a winner. 



After lunch the stakes for both the steeple-chase and the match 

 were handed over to my old friend, who generously left io/. behind 

 him for the poor of the parish (" Reads well in the country paper, 

 don't you see ?") j and after deducting 2j/. for the Vet., according 

 to promise, and 5/. for old Sam, he divided the rest into three parts, 

 for himself, Tom, and me. He had now gained the long coveted 

 pri ze he had won "the Findon," and that with a screw, which he 

 nattered himself no one could have doctored but himself. Tom 

 had made a very good day's work; his share in the stakes, and 

 about 3oo/. in bets, came to enough, as the old man observed, to 

 stock a little farm with. But " if you'll be a little more steady, 

 you may marry that girl yet, and do well," only met with a sad 

 shake of the head from Tom, as he tossed off a bumper of sherry 

 and left the room. As for myself, not a word of praise fell to my 

 share for having been the original purchaser of the horse in fact, I 

 was a real sleeping partner, in every sense of the word, and had no 

 more to say in regard to the management of the old screw than 

 the coachman of whom I bought him. 



