192 Saddle and Sirloin. 



didn't just please her, her head and tail were never at 

 rest. Old Jacky Ferguson haunted the spot for many 

 a long day, or loitered down towards Bainesse and 

 Killerby to have a turn with the partridge-shooters or 

 a cast with his fly. This lean old man was an odd 

 link with a byegone day, when his brother's 



" Big coach-horse, Antonio, 

 Went rumbling to the fore" 



in the St. Leger ; but the sixth Duke of Leeds and 

 Skaife and Sim Templeman have played a far more 

 important part in the history of this little race-course. 

 Hornby Castle seldom failed to win the Cup, and on one 

 occasion His Grace was first and second with Zohrab 

 and Longinus. " Sim"* always fancied the former 

 most of the two, and elected to ride him ; but he felt 

 more proud of his victory on Lot against old Bob 

 Johnson on Tomboy. In these latter days a cloud of 

 two-year-olds go to the post, and writers rejoice in 

 "the tulip garden" of jackets. Give us old times — 

 the pink and black stripes of old Raby, the geranium 



* Templeman's first mount was for Doctor Bell, of Pocklington, in 

 1 8 18, on Unity, at Malton, and his last was on Eller for the Oaks in 

 '59. He "walked" for Lord Zetland's Derby colt Lanchester the next 

 year ; but his foot gave way on the well-known siretch between Leather- 

 head and Box Hill, where he and Bill Scott had toiled along so often 

 for Whitewall. He could then have scaled 8st. I lib., but 8st. 7lb. was 

 the weight in those days. The first race he ever won was at Northaller- 

 ton. Up to that point he had ridden two dozen times ; but when the 

 ice was once broken, he began and won right away, principally for old 

 Tommy Sykes's stable. In one of his early races he had three heats in 

 one day, and a fourth on the next, and he pulled it off. He was on 

 Octavius, and in the third heat John Jackson, "a dark-looking little 

 fellow," crossed him, and "Sim" immediately collared and shook "the 

 old 'un," youngster as he was, and on his complaining to the stewards, 

 Jackson was distanced, and hardly ever rode again. Ben Smith was a 

 great man in those days, but too quiet and gentle a spirit to try on 

 a cross or jostle. Ben never failed to give good advice in his waste 

 walks, and "always tak care and be a good boy, and walk regular, and 

 you re sure lo get on" was his mild form of adjuration to any youthful 

 hero in a strong perspiration at his side. 



