1 86 The Best Fourteen-Hander in England. 



place was more renowned in my day for its pony-races than Hol- 

 lerton; and the Hollerton Cup of 15 sovs. with a Sweepstakes of 

 5 sovs. added, often brought to the post twelve to fifteen of the 

 very best and handsomest little racers in England ; and the dis- 

 tance (nearly the same as that of the Derby) would perhaps be 

 covered by these little flyers considerably under the four minutes. 

 I fancy, moreover, that " leather-flapping," as these little half-bred 

 racers were contemptuously called, was more followed in the mid- 

 land counties than elsewhere ; and, although the practice was 

 considered by many as being greatly open to fraud (which it probably 

 was), I do not fancy that the turf is in a bit more healthy state now 

 than it was then ; nor do I believe there was half so much " roping" 

 or ff milking" carried on then as there is now. Be this as it may, I 

 know that these little meetings used to afford many a happy day's 

 amusement to the country people, who, but for them, would 

 probably have never seen a day's racing in their lives. They 

 brought together neighbours and friends ; they infused a little spirit 

 of racing emulation amongst the farmers and breeders of each 

 particular district ; and, if they did not lead such men to breed a 

 better class of horse, they certainly gave them opportunities of 

 finding out when they had a good one, and, moreover, of making 

 the most of such a horse when they did possess it. 



At all events, this kind of racing just suited my pocket and 

 tastes, and for a few years it was very rarely that I had not a " little 

 one" in for the " Hollerton Cup." Once I had won it, and once 

 I had run second, and on the present occasion I had a share with 

 my friend " the screwdealer" (mentioned in my sketch of the 

 " Steeple-chaser") in a little pony called The Rejected, with which 

 the old man was very confident of winning the cup this year. 



I got down at the " Dolphin" (the principal sporting inn in the 

 place) about eight in the evening, and as this was just the 

 hour when the entries were closing for the morrow's races, not 

 only the pavement in front of the inn, but the inn yard itself was 

 crowded with burly farmers, horse-dealers, country jockeys, and 

 second-class racing men, who either had something to run or felt 



