PARTNERS AND PLUNGERS 37 



met with his sudden death, and in less that five years had 

 flung away ;^300,ooo. 



But in those days it was singularly easy for a young 

 man to run through his property, for the sums risked at 

 betting and cards were extraordinarily high. It was no 

 uncommon thing for 3000 guineas to be staked on a single 

 card at faro, and ^70,000 was more than once lost in one 

 evening's play. It was an everyday occurrence for the 

 owner of a horse to match him for 1000 guineas after 

 dinner, and back him for five or ten times that amount. 

 Lord Abingdon, who was another of the plunging division 

 of that day, once made a match for 7000 guineas to come 

 off at Newmarket, and was certain that he would win, but 

 found himself so short of funds before the day appointed 

 for the final deposit that he was forced to ask the notorious 

 miser, John Elwes, to lend it to him. The penurious 

 master of Marcham, who, though he would not spend 

 money, had no objection to lending at usury, advanced the 

 needful, and was so interested in the match that he rode 

 from his seat in Suffolk to Newmarket to see it. He was 

 accompanied by a sporting parson, who was so keen for 

 the sport that he started without breakfast. After riding 

 all day, the clerical gentleman ventured to suggest dinner, 

 saying that the sharp air of Newmarket had given him a 

 ravenous appetite. The surly miser, although Lord Abing- 

 don had won, and he was therefore sure of his money, 

 bade the hungry parson dine as he did, pulling from his 

 greatcoat pocket a piece of old, crushed pancake, which 

 he had brought from his house at Marcham two months 

 before, and declaring that *' it was as good as new." 



So absorbing was the passion for betting in that day 

 that not even Elwes could resist it, though it is only due to 

 the old miser to say that his ride was an economical one, 

 for he dashed through all the turnpikes without paying. 



Certainly the young plungers of that period went the 

 pace with a vengeance. Colonel George Hanger, after- 

 wards Baron Coleraine and for some time a bosom friend 

 of the Regent's, tells us that his dress clothes alone for one 

 winter cost him .^900, and adds naively : " This extrava- 

 gance is likely to astonish the reader; but what, in my 



