The Betting Ring, 47 



Holland, Dearden, Kettle, Bickham, and Watts, ruled 

 on the Turf 'Change. With Jem Bland, Jerry Cloves, 

 Myers (an ex-butler), Richards (the Leicester stock- 

 inger). Mat Milton, Tommy Swan of Bedale (who 

 never took or laid but one bet on a Sunday), Highton, 

 HoUiday, Gully, Justice, Crockford,"^ Briscoe, Crutch 

 Robinson, Ridsdale, Frank Richardson, and Bob 

 Steward, &c., the art of book-making arose, and 

 henceforward what had been more of a pastime 

 among owners, who would back their horses for a 

 rattler when the humour took them, and not shrink 

 from having 5000/. to 6000/. on a single match, dege- 

 nerated into a science. All the above, with the ex- 

 ception of two, have passed away, like the mastodons, 

 never to return. Nature must have broken the mould 

 in which she formed the crafty Robinson, as he leant 

 on his crutch, with his back against the outer wall of 

 the Newmarket Betting-Rooms, and, with his know- 

 ing quiet leer and one hand in his pocket, argued 



* Mr. Timbs, in his admirable "Curiosities of London," gives the 

 following sketch of this Turf Baring of his day. " Crockford," he says, 

 "started in life as a fishmonger, in the old bulk shop next door to 

 Temple Bar Without, which he quitted for play in St. James's. He 

 began by taking Waller's old club-house, where he set up a hazard 

 bank, and won a great deal of money ; he then separated from his 

 partner, Avho had a bad year and failed. Crockford now removed to 

 St. James's Street, had a good year, and built in 1827, the magnificent 

 club-house which bore his name ; the decorations alone are said to have 

 cost him 94,ocK)/. The election of the club members was vested in a 

 committee, the house appointments were superb, and Ude was engaged 

 as maitre d' hotel. ' Crockford's ' now became the high fashion. Card 

 tables were regularly placed, and whist was played occasionally ; but 

 the aim, end, and final cause of the whole was the hazard bank, at 

 which the proprietor took his nightly stand prepared for all comers ; 

 this speculation was eminently successful. During several years every- 

 thing that anybody had to lose or cared to risk, was swallowed up ; and 

 Crockford became a millionaire. He retired in 1840, 'much as an 

 Indian chief retires from a hunting countiy, when there is not game 

 enough left for his tribe ;' and the club then tottered to its fall. After 

 Crockford's death in 1844, the lease of the club-house (thirty-two 

 years, rent 1400/.) was sold for 2900/." 



