144 Jn Scai'lct and Silk 



I hardly know which Liverpool winner can 

 lay claim to being the very worst that ever 

 took such honours, but I suppose it would 

 be a close race between Shifnal, who gave 

 Robert I'Anson his " blue," and Casse T^te, 

 splendidly ridden by J. Page. Almost every- 

 thing else fell down in the latter's year (1872) 

 and "lucky Teddy Brayley" (who, sad to 

 say, in spite of his luck died some years back 

 at Bath in abject poverty) saw the mean- 

 looking little chestnut mare, hopelessly beaten 

 by Scarrington to the last hurdles, come in 

 alone, as the latter injured his leg so much 

 at them that he could hardly hobble past the 

 post ; and once more Robert I'Anson, prince 

 of professionals, and my boyhood's hero, was 

 baulked of the chief ambition of his life. 

 What a shadow I'Anson looked at the time 

 he could go to scale at less than ten stone ; 

 what an impossibility it seemed that he ever 

 could have done so when I last shook hands 

 with him at the Grand Military meeting, 

 this very year ! 



That luck is a strong element in the game 



