of the
pike-keeper. The man dived into the small pocket of his white apron for
a ticket and very coolly replied, "Shell out, old 'un." "How much?" said
Jorrocks. "Tuppence," which having got, he said, "Now, then, you may
turn, for the heath be over yonder," pointing back, "at least it was
there this morning, I know." After a volley of abuse for his impudence,
Mr. Jorrocks, with some difficulty got the old mare pulled round, for
she had a deuced hard mouth of her own, and only a plain snaffle in it;
at last, however, with the aid of a boy to beat her with a furze-bush,
they got her set a-going again, and, retracing their steps, they trotted
"down street," rose the hill, and entered the spacious wide-extending
flat of Newmarket Heath. The races were going forward on one of the
distant courses, and a slight, insignificant, black streak, swelling
into a sort of oblong (for all the world like an overgrown tadpole),
was all that denoted the spot, or interrupted the verdant aspect of
the quiet extensive plain. Jorrocks was horrified, having through life
pictured Epsom as a mere drop in the ocean compared with the countless
multitude of Newmarket, while the Baron, who was wholly indifferent to
the matter, nearly had old Jorrocks pitched over the mare's head by
applying the furze-bush (which he had got from the boy) to her tail
while Mr. Jorrocks was sitting loosely, contemplating the barrenness
of the prospect. The sherry was still alive, and being all for fun, he
shuffled back into the saddle as soon as the old mare gave over kicking;
and giving a loud tally-ho, with some minor "hunting noises," which were
responded to by the Baron in notes not capable of being set to music,
and aided by an equally indescribable accompaniment from the old mare at
every application of the bush, she went off at score over the springy
turf, and bore them triumphantly to the betting-post just as the ring
was in course of formation, a fact which she announced by a loud neigh
on viewing her companion of the plough, as well as by unpsetting some
half-dozen black-legs as she rushed through the crowd to greet her.
Great was the hubbub, shouting, swearing, and laughing,--for though the
Newmarketites are familiar with most conveyances, from a pair of horses
down to a pair of shoes, it had not then fallen to their lot to see two
men ride into the ring on the same horse,--certainly not with such a hat
between them as the Baron's.

The gravest and weighties