ii4 My First Steeple-chaser. 



and snappish, and could scarcely bear a word to be spoken to him, 

 and old Sam and the lads had a weary time of it. I have no doubt 

 Tom's death affected him deeply, for he had the hoof of the horse 

 that killed him mounted in silver, which, with the whip and 

 spurs he used in his last race, together with the little Findon 

 cockades, hung up ever after over his mantelpiece till he died. The 

 Vet., moreover, took to bad ways ; to use a favourite phrase of his 

 own, he could not " carry corn j" the little money he had won 

 during his connexion with the old horse, and the excitement of the 

 racecourse, upset him, and he took to company and drinking. He 

 still, however, stuck to his favourite "inflammable iles," and one 

 night a tremendous explosion was heard in his little back shop, and 

 when the neighbours rushed in he was found lying insensible on the 

 floor, with a candlestick grasped tightly in his hand, and a two- 

 gallon jar, which had doubtless contained some dangerous ingre- 

 dient or other used by him in his mysterious mixtures, shattered into 

 a thousand pieces at his feet. The window of the little room was 

 blown out, and every jar and bottle on his shelves broken. He 

 never recovered that smash. My share in the horse I sold to my 

 old friend, who kept him through the summer without once running 

 him, and sold him again for a hunter the next season. The old 

 gentleman died shortly after it was quite clear that his silent but 

 deep-rooted grief wore him out; and his little farm and stables 

 passed into other hands. The poor girl, who should have been 

 Tom's wife, never looked up after the sad accident ; she lingered 

 on through the winter, but the next spring saw another little head- 

 stone in the village churchyard, not far from where Tom lay, and 

 the simple initials, " J. H., aetat. 25," was all that told the sad his- 

 tory of many years' patient suffering. 



