240 WAYFARING NOTIONS 



right ! " is declared. Morny had to wait to be 

 weighed in while a jockey for the next race 

 weighed out. He passed the scale all right, and 

 I went forthwith to the door to see what sort of a 

 burst of cheering would finish the series. Bless 

 you, the victory had been so thorough and 

 complete that there was no crowd to raise a cheer. 

 The official signaller waved his white banner, but 

 no one took any notice of it except the ready- 

 money bookies, who started, *' Pay, pay." All 

 the rest, I suppose, had toddled off to Messrs 

 Spinks's bars. Spinks and Co., of Bradford, are 

 the best and fairest refreshment contractors in 

 England, or, so far as my cosmopolitan experience 

 goes, the best in the world at this game. 



As a rule, I do not take very much stock in 

 the old-fashioned-North-Country-fine-sportsman's 

 business. Because a school of Northerners 

 happened to do a great deal of Press work fifty 

 years or more ago, and naturally wrote their own 

 sort up, the world was taught to regard Yorkshire 

 as the true home of racing, and to "make up," 

 the South, particularly that part of it round about 

 the London centre, was written down to balance. 

 One of the striking points was the mighty York- 

 shire roar. I am not for a moment denying the 

 Tikes' and Bites' ability in the noise-making Hne ; 

 but while holding all due respect for the real 

 champions, the Irishmen, who can do us all at 

 their weight, I fail to see where Yorkshire can 

 beat our Cockney lot. We were, on the Leger 

 day, treated to a very fine roar, shout, or cheer, or 

 what you please to call it, from the moment 

 Sceptre got her pretty head in front a quarter of 

 a mile away from Mr Ford's perch in his judge s 

 box, and a capital staying cheer it was, for it lasted 



