"Why Not" 



the last ounce. Nothing less could have done 

 the trick. The papers contained eulogiums of 

 our " magnificent performance." I do not know 

 which was the more highly praised, horse or 

 jockey, but I do know which deserved that praise 

 — the horse. He was an absolute terrier (or 

 warrior) in the pit on that memorable occasion. 

 I was simply seconding his efforts to the best of 

 my ability. And if my fatal modesty stands in 

 my way again, as usual, I hope that kind readers 

 will bear in mind the fact that I am not accus- 

 tomed to pose as an author, or to advertise my- 

 self accordingly. With a whip in my hand I 

 feel more at home than with a pen, and my 

 flourishes with either weapon are not likely to 

 bring down the house unless its foundations are 

 rotten. 



Many stories were current after " Why Not's " 

 success. Too effusive admirers affirmed that I 

 could have won on either of the first three. I 

 was very glad to win on the first one. It would 

 be foolish on my part to suggest that I could 

 have done better than the two skilful jockeys who 

 were second and third : they did their best, and 

 man — even the finest horseman — can do no more. 

 But it was not to be their day for covering them- 

 selves with glory. Providence was looking after 



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