A SCRATCH TEAM AT ROME. 171 



will probably shriek aloud in her agony of mind, 

 and make frantic grabs at your reins and whip, 

 and be a real comfort to you at the most 

 critical moment. 



It is now some years since that I left my own 

 diggings to go to Northampton Races, and join 

 a party living a short distance from Market Har- 

 borough. Arrangements were made that I should 

 send my own team on, half way, to a place called 

 Lamport, which may be well known to many who 

 will read this as being a favourite meet in the Pytchley 

 country ; my kind friend provided me with a scratch 

 team to do the first half of the distance, and I was to 

 drive my own team on to the course. My scratch 

 team consisted of two very clever roan cobs as leaders, 

 and two covert hacks at wheel, the near-wheeler a 

 good sort of dark brown mare, and the off-wheeler 

 a nice active little brown bay mare, a charming lady's 

 mare, but totally unfit to be at wheel in a heavy coach. 

 We made a good start from the house and got safely 

 down a short slope, I cannot call it a hill, which was 

 very pleasantly coated with new shingly gravel. I 

 soon found that neither of my wheelers were used 

 to going down hill without the patent drag, and that 

 my off-wheeler would not hold an ounce. This was 



