i 4 3 MEN OF PAST DAYS. 



' Oh yes,' replied the man, half dead with fright ; 

 ' I have seen them, and Dickens driving them.' 



The horses were stopped on Red Cross Hill, and 

 the poor bear set at liberty, nearly dragged to death. 

 So ends the bear story, which I am afraid has led me 

 somewhat astray from my purpose of recording some 

 peculiarities of the turf patricians of past days. 



The late Lord Glasgow was, I might almost say 

 as all the world knows, a most eccentric character in 

 all that he did or undertook to do in racing. He, 

 too, affected his own style of dress, wearing nan- 

 keen trousers too short for him, or, as the Irish- 

 man would say, having the habit of putting his legs 

 too far through them. He wore a waistcoat of the 

 same material, of faulty cut, a dark-blue coat with 

 plain brass buttons, and a tall hat. And, so attired, 

 he rode on horseback each day to see the races at 

 Newmarket. A top-coat apparently he scorned. I 

 never remember seeing him in one, no matter what 

 the weather. He had as many, or more, trainers than 

 anyone I can think of, and jockeys in like super- 

 abundance. It would, indeed, be impossible to 

 enumerate them all. 



I call to mind that when Mr. Thomas Dawson 

 was his trainer, and won the Two Thousand for him 

 with General Peel, the night before the race his lord- 

 ship took me to see the horse in the stable, being 

 accompanied by Mr. Gerard Sturt, now Lord Aling- 

 ton, and several other noblemen. He bid me feel his 



