of his keep. What a fraudulent animal he
was is proved by the fact that he never won a penny for his purchaser,
and ended his career, as he ought to have begun it, between the shafts
of a hansom.

But, so far from being disheartened by this initial experience, Lord
Hastings had barely thrown aside his cap and gown before he was owner of
half a hundred race-horses, with John Day as trainer; and was fully
embarked on his turf-career. From the very first year of his enlarged
venture success smiled on him. Ackworth won the Cambridgeshire for him,
in 1864; the Duke captured the Goodwood Cup two years later; and the
Earl carried off the Grand Prix de Paris. In the four years, 1864 to
1867 the Marquess won over L60,000 in stakes alone, while his winnings
in bets were larger still. So excellent a judge of a horse was he that
he only spoke the truth when he boasted, "I could easily make L30,000 a
year by backing other men's horses." Indeed on one race, Lecturer's
Cesarewitch, he cleared L75,000. Such was the brilliant start of a
racing-career which was to close so soon in failure and disgrace.

In the world of the Turf the youthful Marquess was hailed as a new
deity. At Epsom, Newmarket, and a dozen other race-courses his
appearance created as much sensation as that of the Prince of Wales
himself; he was greeted everywhere with cheers and a salvo of doffed
hats; and the way in which he scattered his smiles and his bets was
regal in its prodigality.

"As he canters on to the course," we are told, "he
slackens speed as he passes through the line of
carriages, from which come shrill, plaintive cries, 'Dear
Lord Hastings, do come here for one second,' and others
to like purpose. Conveniently deaf to the voice of the
charmers, he rides straight into the horseman's circle,
and takes up his position on the heavy-betting side.
'They're laying odds on yours, my lord,' exclaims a
bookmaker. 'What odds?' blandly asks the owner. 'Well, my
lord, I'll take you six monkeys to four!' 'Put it down,'
is the brief response. 'And me, three hundred to two--and
me--and me!' clamour a score of pencillers, who come
clustering up. 'Done with you, and you, and you'--the
bets are booked as freely as offered. 'And now, my lord,
if you've a mind for a bit more, I'll take you
thirty-five hundred to two thousand.' 'And so you shall!'
is the cheery answer, as the backer