74 CONFESSIONS 0? A HORSE DEALER. 



meeting was planned by the gang for a purpose which 

 will be seen in the sequel. 



The elderly gentleman is as rich as a nabob, but, 

 nevertheless, he thinks more of five sovereigns won by 

 trotting, than he does of fifty made by any other means ; 

 and, moreover, on this particular morning he was in- 

 clined for a bit of a spin, for there was a fine bracing 

 air, and his old favourite " Blazeaway" had just carried 

 him about a mile from his princely mansion on his way 

 to his model farm (which he visited every morning), at 

 a rate that (like all other men afflicted with the trotting 

 fever) Mr. S thought nothing could surpass, except- 

 ing, perhaps, Flora Temple, the American mare (of whom 

 he had read), or a telegraphic message. 



Most men who happen to own a horse of twelve or 

 thirteen mile an hour pace, think, while riding or dri- 

 ving them, that " there is nothing in this country can 

 lick 'em." " Why, they have trotted their animal from 

 this place to that, with two in a gig, in an hour and 

 three minutes, and they would like to know how far 

 that is short of seventeen miles," Don't believe 'em, 

 my friends, sixteen and seventeen miles an hour wants 

 covering. It may not be too fast for Americans, for they 

 are fast people, but our steady English sobersides will say 

 it is too fast for them ; they say, " S'pose the 'orse was 

 to cum down, or the wheel cum off oh smither 'em, they 

 had rather go at the much safer pace of eight or ten miles 

 an hour ; it suits their book much better ; it is not only 

 less dangerous to themselves, but their horses' legs and 



