1 8o III Scai'let a) id Silk 



run home. From his box we proceeded to 

 that in which Waterford was unconcernedly 

 resting his stately frame. This great banging 

 bay, looking a Grand National horse all over, 

 would have taken his own part in the contest 

 had not the death of his owner, just a fort- 

 night before the race, prevented his starting. 

 Both these horses are magnificent fencers in 

 private, and, barring those mishaps to which 

 all horseflesh is liable, it might fairly be said 

 of them that they never fall. 



Snaplock — a very corky-looking gentleman 

 in the stable — and two or three more, useful 

 ones, and that win in their turn, were briefly 

 visited, before I was conducted into as charm- 

 ing a little house as one could picture, faced 

 by a large wooden veranda, where Mr. 

 Gatland smokes his cigar, and dreams of 

 Liverpool winners, past, present, and to come. 

 Once inside the door, my eyes were quickly 

 glued to the numerous good pictures of equine 

 heroes who have brouo;ht fame and fortune to 

 their clever trainer. But a sea-mist began to 

 show itself, the afternoon waned ; and as I 



