Marylanders in the early days of my
youth were the horse, the hounds, and a fight.

But though the faces were fair, merry, and pleasant to look upon,
though the chariots and four-in-hands were gorgeous and bedecked,
there was a woful lack of cavaliers to make those damask cheeks
mantle with a blush, for they were away fighting in the North. Thus it
was, as I drove down the line in my uniform of scarlet and buff, to
find a stand, that Mistress Polly and Mistress Betsy had their
triumph, and many a fair face turned our way as we drove by, until I
brought the coach to a halt in a good place next to the parson, where
he sat his cob, watching the preliminaries.

"Find the parson," said Mistress Polly judiciously, "and you will have
found the best place in the field."

"Oh, Mistress Polly, you are a minx," said that reverend gentleman.
"How in the world could I make the youngsters come to church if they
did not know I was a good judge of horseflesh as well as a minister?"

"They are off," cried Mistress Betsy. The race had begun; but why
describe the race? Those who have never seen a race are mere
worthless creatures deserving no consideration, and those who have
seen a race do not need a description. At the mere name they see the
grand thoroughbreds at the line, their coats shining like satin in the
sun, eager and ready to be off. Then the flag falls, and, amid the
rustling of skirts and craning of necks, they are off. Ah, and then
comes the glorious excitement of it all as you watch with eager eyes
that ribbon of a track, and see now this one, now that one, slowly
draw away from the bunch at the start, and the closing of the space
again, until they become mere moving spots on the far side of the
field. And then, that home stretch, with its thunder of hoofs, its
roar of voices, and cheers and yells, as the grand beasts, with
straining nerves and neck to neck, make the last great effort; and
afterward the triumph, the waving of handkerchiefs, the great cheer
that greets the victor, and the smiles of merry lips and laughing
eyes. Those were the prizes we raced for, when racing was the pastime
of gentlemen, and not an excuse for blackguardism and gambling, as
to-day it is fast becoming. So my kind hosts and I made our little
bets, and enjoyed ourselves right thoroughly, until the last race,
which was won by a grandson of the great Selim, was over and done.
Then I swung my four colts into the road again, and at a rattling p