ON]

It is the horse that is king, however, in Bombay's pastimes. The Hunt
Club sends the smart set to the suburbs now and then, and tent-pegging
and pig-sticking draw biggish audiences from the military class whenever
contests are announced. But the paramount sport of the masses is
horse-racing, pure and simple. The course is on the plains a few miles
out of town, close to a suburb given over to cotton-mills, where nearly
as many spindles fly as at Fall River. All Bombay seems to be at the
races, irrespective of religious or social distinctions--everyone
present loves the horse and appears possessed of a goodly supply of
rupees with which to back his selections.

The Jockey Club has its own lawn and private enclosure on the stand, and
there is a box for the governor and anybody coming from Government
House. The grand-stand bears a minor importance to the betting ring, for
the latter holds a surging, throbbing medley of humanity--society folk
from India's innermost official set, sleek Parsees wearing gold rimmed
eye-glasses, rajahs from all parts, wealthy merchants and bankers,
fez-wearing Mohammedans from the world of Islam, men from the Persian
Gulf in astrachan head-gear, Pathans from beyond the Himalayas, Sikhs
from the Punjab--as can be gathered in great India, the museum of the
human race.

Three score book-makers howl their bargains in raucous tones, and a
whirlwind of rupee paper passes to the strong boxes. The crowd is
backing the favorites. Even the Arab horse dealers from the Bhendi
bazaar, manly fellows in the garb of desert sheikhs, whose pockets bulge
with rolls of notes, comprehend the book-makers' jargon of English that
might be incomprehensible to an Oxford don. A prince who is heir to the
rulership of one of the greatest states in India has no scruples against
inviting an expression of opinion as to so-and-so's bay filly of a
native sportsman with beard dyed red with henna, in keeping with the
fashion of his kind. Escorted ladies of position, and unescorted women
in pairs from Grant Road, are present before the betting booths. Fair
Parsee ladies, wearing clinging robes of delicate shades, wait patiently
while their swains place their money on the impending event.

A bell rings loudly--the horses are at the post. The mob rushes from the
betting ring to the lawn; only few take the trouble to climb to their
seats. It is a quick race. The crowd of standees in the inner field see
it best, and down this