My First Steeple-chaser. 107 



and come down so far to see a horse run in which he had only a 

 temporary interest. 



How different were my feelings on the afternoon when I rode 

 into Findon before that steeple-chase, to what they were on the 

 present occasion ! Then, every second man I met was a friend. I 

 knew our horse would be properly and fairly ridden, and we were 

 all of us very confident in his success. But now, we were in a 

 strange country without a friend. It wanted but twenty-four hours 

 to the race, and we had not even engaged a jockey for the horse. 

 Poor Tom's recent death sat heavily on my mind, and if it had not 

 been that others at home were anxiously waiting for the result of the 

 old horse's performance, I declare I would have sent him back that 

 afternoon by the lad, and left the town by the night coach, without 

 even staying to see the race in which, strange to say, I had now lost 

 all interest. The Vet., bold as he might be at home, was a very different 

 man here; and I could plainly see, notwithstanding the brightness 

 of the new green coat, he sat very ill at ease at that table, among 

 men whose deeds of daring he had so often seen recorded in the 

 Life, and whose chaff and inuendoes he could plainly see were 

 covertly directed against himself. He was by no means desti- 

 tute of pluck, and had proved himself an awkward customer on 

 more than one occasion 5 and as I saw that he was burning to get 

 into a row with some one, I was right glad when lunch was over, 

 and he proposed a stroll through the old town to buy a new ash 

 stick. I thought this would be a good opportunity of getting the 

 correct weight of the lad and myself, and as we passed a butcher's 

 shop, at the door of which a very jovial, good-humoured looking 

 man was standing, I asked him if we might just step into his scales. 

 The request was at once granted, and after we had got our weights, 

 the butcher, who was evidently a sporting man, civilly asked us into 

 his little back parlour, to have a glass of ale, and on following him 

 in we saw two other men sitting there smoking their cigars, evidently 

 talking over the coming race. One was a fat, jolly-looking fellow, 

 apparently a country farmer ; the other was the very counterpart of 

 poor Tom, save that his hair and whiskers were sandy, and his face 



