George IV. 107 



oh ! extraordinary anomaly ! the little old Jew Travis, who, like the 

 dwarf of old, followed in the train of royalty. The Downs were soon 

 covered with eveiy species of conveyance, and the Prince's German 

 waggon and six bay horses (so were barouches called when first intro- 

 duced at that time) — the coachman on the box being replaced by Sir 

 John Lade— issued out of the gates of the Pavilion, and, gliding up the 

 green ascent, was stationed close to the Grand Stand, where it remained 

 the centre of attraction for the day. At dinner-time the Pavilion was 

 resplendent with lights, and a sumptuous banquet was furnished to a 

 large party ; while those who were not included in that invitation found 

 a dinner, with every luxury, at the Club-house on the Steyne, kept by 

 Raggett during the season, for the different members of White's and 

 Brookes's who chose to frequent it, and where the cards and dice from 

 St. James's-street were not forgotten. "Where are the actors in aU 

 those gay scenes now ?" 



To get high-caste sportsmen round him was the 

 Prince's prime pleasure. Few can forget his graceful 

 introduction of General Lake to Mr. Lockley — that 

 brave old rider, who seemed, like Lord Lynedoch, 

 almost ready to eat the fox, and went so well in a 

 run of an hour and forty minutes from Cheney's 

 Gorse, through Ranksboro' Gorse and Whissendine, 

 to Lord Harboro's, when he was upwards of seventy, 

 that "The Squire" twice took off his cap in the middle 

 of it, and gave him a rattling cheer. " General Lake, 

 let me introduce Mr. Lockley to you ; two men so 

 eminent in their lines ought to know each other," was 

 the Open Sesame of their evening's chat. Horses, and 

 everything connected with them, were his idols ; and 

 no man had a finer eye for them ; while the little 

 Norwegian dun pony, which at one time would run 

 about the rooms at the Royal Lodge, and sleep on the 

 rug before the fire, was far more precious in his eyes 

 than any dog, Hacks and hunters he never seemed 

 to tire of trying ; and hence the constant entreaty of 

 Mat Milton the dealer, who used to spend hours with 

 him in the stable-yard adjoining Carlton House — viz., 

 to '' throw your thigh over him, Your HighnesSy and 

 you'll find him to be the sweetest goer you ever 

 mounted!' was invariably responded to. Hunting, to 

 a man who stood not very much short of six feet, and 



