apped up over the eyes in
blankets, with moist blue noses and chattering teeth, are barely
discernible in the thick mist.

The racecourse is two miles from the club, on the other side of the
lake, in the middle of a grassy plain, with a neat masonry structure at
the further side, which serves as a grand stand. Already buggies,
dogcarts in single harness and tandem, barouches, and waggonettes are
merrily rolling through the thick mist, past the frowning jail, and
round the corner of the lake. Natives in gaudy coloured shawls, and
blankets, are pouring on to the racecourse by hundreds.

Bullock carts, within which are black-eyed, bold beauties, profusely
burdened with silver ornaments, are drawn up in lines. _Ekkas_--small
jingling vehicles with a dome-shaped canopy and curtains at the
sides--drawn by gaily caparisoned ponies, and containing fat, portly
Baboos, jingle and rattle over the ruts on the side roads.

Sweetmeat sellers, with trays of horrible looking filth, made seemingly
of insects, clarified butter, and sugar, dodge through the crowd
dispensing their abominable looking but seemingly much relished wares.
Tall policemen, with blue jackets, red puggries, yellow belts, and
white trousers, stalk up and down with conscious dignity.

A madcap young assistant on his pony comes tearing along across
country. The weighing for the first race is going on; horses are being
saddled, some vicious brute occasionally lashing out, and scattering
the crowd behind him. The ladies are seated round the terraced grand
stand; long strings of horses are being led round and round in a
circle, by the _syces_; vehicles of every description are lying round
the building.

Suddenly a bugle sounds; the judge enters his box; the ever popular old
'Bikram,' who officiates as starter, ambles off on his white cob, and
after him go half-a-dozen handsome young fellows, their silks rustling
and flashing through the fast rising mist.

A hundred field-glasses scan the start; all is silent for a moment.

'They're off!' shout a dozen lungs.

'False start!' echo a dozen more.

The gay colours of the riders flicker confusedly in a jumble. One horse
careers madly along for half the distance, is with difficulty pulled
up, and is then walked slowly back.

The others left at the post fret, and fidget, and curvet about. At
length they are again in line. Down goes the white flag! 'Good start!'
shouts an excited planter. Down goes the red flag. 'Off