t,
"Twenty to one against Man-trap."

A young gentleman just launched into the world, and who, proud of his
ancient and spreading acres, was now making his first book, seeing
Man-trap marked eighteen to one on the cards, jumped eagerly at this
bargain, while Lord Fitzheron and Mr Berners who were at hand and who in
their days had found their names in the book of the carcase butcher, and
grown wise by it, interchanged a smile.

"Mr Egremont will not take," said Hump Chippendale to the peer in the
white great coat.

"You must have been too eager," said his noble friend.

The ring is up; the last odds declared; all gallop away to the Warren.
A few minutes, only a few minutes, and the event that for twelve months
has been the pivot of so much calculation, of such subtile combinations,
of such deep conspiracies, round which the thought and passion of the
sporting world have hung like eagles, will be recorded in the fleeting
tablets of the past. But what minutes! Count them by sensation and not
by calendars, and each moment is a day and the race a life. Hogarth in
a coarse and yet animated sketch has painted "Before" and "After." A
creative spirit of a higher vein might develope the simplicity of the
idea with sublimer accessories. Pompeius before Pharsalia, Harold before
Hastings, Napoleon before Waterloo, might afford some striking contrasts
to the immediate catastrophe of their fortunes. Finer still the inspired
mariner who has just discovered a new world; the sage who has revealed
a new planet; and yet the "Before" and "After" of a first-rate English
race, in the degree of its excitement, and sometimes in the tragic
emotions of its close, may vie even with these.

They are saddling the horses; Caravan looks in great condition; and a
scornful smile seems to play upon the handsome features of Pavis, as in
the becoming colours of his employer, he gracefully gallops his horse
before his admiring supporters. Egremont in the delight of an
English patrician scarcely saw Mango, and never even thought of
Phosphorus--Phosphorus, who, by the bye, was the first horse that
showed, with both his forelegs bandaged.

They are off!

As soon as they are well away, Chifney makes the running with Pocket
Hercules. Up to the Rubbing House he is leading; this is the only point
the eye can select. Higher up the hill, Caravan, Hybiscus, Benedict,
Mahometan, Phosphorus, Michel Fell, and Rat-trap are with the grey,
forming a front rank, an