18 TALES AND TRAITS OF SPORTING LIFE. 



many of established repute, more of coming* promise, and 

 all, save the handsome Park horse that is to be, of the 

 hig-hest and purest lineage. And now that we have seen 

 them, and when we begin to tire of studying so perfect a 

 picture, let us pause for a minute, to reflect over its pecu- 

 liar tone and treatment, and to ask were you ever over any 

 manufactory — did you ever inspect any gigantic ^' estab- 

 lishment," where the good g-enius of rule and order had 

 a better home than at Thistley? Have you found a 

 stirrup-leather out of place ? Have you noticed the tiniest 

 of those little lads ever flurried or awkward over his work ? 

 Have you heard an oath, or so much as an angr}'" word, 

 since we have been here? ^' Don't speak so sharply to 

 your mare, boy!" was Mr. Sliepherd's mild reproof to 

 the lad who cried out at the white-legged filly when she 

 twisted round suddenly on her way home ; and again : 

 " I say, young gentleman, would'nt you look all the better 

 if you had your hair cut?" to another, much rejoicing in 

 his golden locks. But we will have a word ourselves with a 

 third — this natty youth coming across the yard, with his 

 horse's muzzle packed, as some travellers will their 

 sponge-bags, with all kinds of toilet-traps. Jack Horner 

 is his name, and he was born in London ; but he came 

 down to Mr. Shepherd as an apprentice, some three years 

 since. He looks about twelve years of age, but rather 

 indignantly says he is past fifteen, and that he does not 

 weigh four stone. There is a combination of fortune's 

 and nature's favours, rarely to be met with in this world ! 

 Can any one by any possibility imagine anything more 

 acutely wide-awake than a boy born m London and edu- 

 cated in a racing-stable ! who is unnaturally small for 

 his years, who can sit close, hold his own tongue, and the 

 hardest puller in the stable ? Go on and prosper, little 



