-courses. A huge crowd was assembled, and the din of roaring
thousands filled the air. As they drove up a race had just started,
and it was pretty to see the flash of the coloured caps and jackets in
the sun. The horses came nearer and nearer. As they rounded the bend
which led into the straight run in, the excitement became almost
too great for Father TIME. A torrent of sporting phrases broke from
his lips. One after another he backed every horse on the card for
extravagant sums, and the bets were promptly, but methodically booked
by _Mr. Punch_. A handsome chestnut was leading by two good lengths,
and apparently going strong, but about a hundred yards from the post
he suddenly slowed down for some unaccountable reason. In a moment a
bay and a brown flew past him, there was a final roar and the race was
over. The bay had won, the brown was second, and the chestnut a length
behind, was only third. "Most extraordinary thing that," said the
Paternal One; "I made sure the chestnut would win."

"That's just it," broke in the owner of the coach; "the public thought
so too, and they've lost their money."

"Just look at the mob," he continued, "crowding round the jockey and
the owner. 'Gad, I shouldn't care to be hooted like that. But, of
course, _they've_ made their pile on it; never intended him to win.
Just sent him out for an airing. Pretty bit of roping, wasn't it?" he
continued, addressing _Mr. Punch_.

But the Sportsman of Sportsmen only frowned.

"In the land we come from," he rejoined, "the sport of racing is pure,
and only the most high-minded men take part in it. Their desire is not
to make money, but merely to improve the breed of British horses. I
grieve to find that here the case is otherwise. Reform the Sport, Sir;
reform it, and make it worthy of Castorian gentlemen."

His newly-found friend only smiled.

Then he winked as he hummed to himself the words of a song, which ran
something like this:--

"Come, sportsmen all, give ear to me, I'll tell you what occurred,
But of course you won't repeat it when I've told you;
For with honourable gentlemen I hope that mum's the word,
When a horse you've laid your money on has sold you.
I presume you lost your shekels, and you think it rather low,
Since you're none of you as rich as NORTH or BARING.
But another time you'll get them back by being 'in the know,'
When a favourite is started for an airing.

"That's an odd sort of song," said _