A DAY WITH TOM CANNON. 257 



the turf, give to Tom Cannon's name a leading 

 place in the history of English sport. 



It does not take long to make a start, but as 

 the horse's feet ring on the road the prospects 

 of jumping in the afternoon, not to say of 

 galloping this morning, seem very doubtful. 

 But then I do not know the glorious downs on 

 which these horses are trained, a splendid 

 expanse of turf, including Stockbridge race- 

 course and its surroundings, which, as I presently 

 find, frost seem powerless to affect ; and as we 

 trot on in the waggonette we soon overtake and 

 pass the long string which forms one of the 

 contingents which the indefatigable young 

 trainer has under his charge. 



The cold touches up the thin-skinned 

 youngsters, some of which seize the excuse 

 afforded by the passing wheels to dance or kick 

 a bit, as is so often the nature of the thorough- 

 bred horse on the slightest provocation. They 

 are soon quieted, however, and as we alight and 

 walk up a steep hill, Tom Cannon devotes 

 himself to the inspection of a sample of black 

 oats, brought by Olding, his faithful lieutenant 

 and charge d'affaires when the master is away, 

 donning his own scarlet and white hoops. Lord 

 Eosebery's primrose and rose hoops, the white 

 and blue spots, and the other jackets which are 



17 



