64 " TO ladies' eyes, a hound, boys." 



their temperament affords them no inducement to do 

 otherwise. I hate absolute vice, but I love a little bit of 

 a sinner in horse or man, and, " name it not, ye 

 chaste stars," I fear also sometimes a very little bit 

 of a one in woman. I love a little deviation from a 

 beaten path, whether it be the path of rigid right, or 

 the one we daily tread in our pilgrimage through life. 

 Heaven knows a monotonous and weary one it would 

 be if we did not sometimes stray a little from its 

 lengthened course in search of the very few flowers 

 that bloom beside us. I love a little deviation even 

 from strict beauty. I love a squint — that is, some 

 squints in some women : I do not mean a pair of 

 ogles that turn simultaneously so far into the nose 

 that we are inclined to say, " God send you safe 

 back again ! " but a little roguish cast, that speaks of 

 a little wickedness, and says, " but for a something I 

 certainly would," delightful. We have only to do 



away with that something, and then I mean 



no harm, Ladies ; I mean then we Avill return to the 

 three teams I was writing about, a subject much 

 more suited to the pen, though not to the wishes, of 

 Harry Hie'over than ladies' eyes. 



I have mentioned the three different teams merely to 

 show what blood and its usual attendant, resolution, 

 will do even with a heavy weight to bring along. It 

 may be said the light horses had short stages ; granted : 

 but if the ground had been a level one over the thirteen 

 miles, I am satisfied the blood would have told equally : 

 indeed, it is in lengthened exertion Avhere breeding 

 tells the most : no cocktail can race four miles. But to 

 return to the thirteen miles at eight miles an hour. 

 Over that particular stage I do not think the lightest 

 of the teams could have got along, not from the length. 



