no My First Steeple-chaser. 



screw dealer himself, but his line lay among the trotters, and he had 

 taken me into his stable to show me three nags, either of which, he 

 declared, could trot the two miles under the six minutes j and when 

 I told him I fancied I had one at home who could beat either of 

 them, he swore that he would travel all the way to Findon to see 

 her, which he did. 



It was a lovely morning, as mild as May, and the sun shone 

 brightly out of an unclouded sky 5 the jackdaws were cawing high 

 in air round the old church tower, whose bells were ringing out a 

 cheery peel, and over whose battlements floated " the red-white-and 

 blue," in honour of this day. The steeple-chase was evidently a 

 gala-day in the old town of Bideford. A brass band paraded the 

 streets as on an election day. The county families were nocking 

 into the town (for there was to be a grand ball in the evening), 

 well-mounted men on strong useful hunters rode up the high street 

 towards the course, and the town was crowded with country people, 

 who had come miles to see the race. All was in a bustle. Every 

 one you met seemed full of importance j but it was easy to distin- 

 guish who were the real actors in the play about to be performed. 

 The race was fixed for two ; the horses were to saddle in the inn- 

 yard, parade through the market-place, and then proceed to the 

 racecourse, where the start was, about a mile out of the town. It was 

 a pretty and a national sight to see eleven of the best steeple-horses 

 in England, ridden by the crack jockeys of the day, meet in that 

 market-place j and old Hercules, with his new jockey on his back, 

 walked every bit as proudly through the crowd as the best of them. 

 They were marshalled to the racecourse by the clerk of the course, 

 in a bran new pink and leathers, and the whole affair was very well 

 arranged. The racecourse was very prettily situate, and from the 

 top of the grand stand the eye wandered over a wide tract of cham- 

 paign country, with very little plough, through which the silvery Wye 

 wound its placid course, while the dim blue outline of the Welsh 

 mountains could be distinctly traced in the distant horizon. Nearly 

 the whole of the steeple-chase course, dotted out with white flags, 

 could be seen from the stand, and though there were as many 



