rs enters the Arabian horse _Selim_, descended in a direct
line, he is informed, from Al-borak, who carried the prophet Mahomet
up to heaven--though this pedigree is not vouched for. The said
pedigree is open to the inspection of all comers. _Note_--That it is
written in Arabic.

There are other entries, but not much attention is paid to them. The
race will be between Sir Archy and Fair Anna, and perhaps the
outlandish horse will not be "distanced."

"Prepare the horses!" comes from the judges' stand opposite.

Captain Ralph Waters leaves the ladies with a gallant bow, and pushes
his way through the swaying and excited crowd, toward the spot where
the animals are being saddled.

A tremendous hurly-burly reigns there; men of all classes, boys,
negroes, gentlemen, indented servants,--all are betting with intense
interest. The dignified grooms endeavor to keep back the crowd:--the
owners of the horses give their orders to the microscopic monkeys who
are to ride. . . . . . The riders are raised by one leg into the
saddles; they gather up the reins; the drum taps; they are off like
lightning.

The course is a mile in circumference, and they go round it before the
excited crowd can look at them a dozen times. They whirl past the
stand, and push on again.

Sir Archy leads; Fair Anna trails on a hard rein; the Arabian is two
lengths behind; but he is not running.

They thunder up the quarter stretch: Sir Archy is bounding, like some
diabolical monster, far before his companions, spite of his owner's
cries; the Arabian has come up and locks the mare; they run neck and
neck. Sir Archy whirls past the stand, and wins by a hundred yards.
The immense crowd utters a shout that shakes the surrounding
forest. . . . . . . .

The horses are again enveloped in their hoods and blankets. Captain
Ralph returns to the Riverhead carriage, [that of the Lees, in which
were Miss Henrietta Lee and her sister Clare.]

"Any more betting, sir?" says Miss Henrietta, satirically.

"Who, I?"

"Yes, sir."

"Assuredly!" says the Captain; "do not think, _chere ma'm'selle_, that
I am very much cast down. I am so far from that, I assure you, that I
am ready to take the field again."

"Well, sir."

"Then you will bet again, madam?"

"Yes, indeed."

"_Bien!_ I now stake all that is left me in the world--though not
quite. I stake my horse, Selim, against the curl and the pair of
gloves you wear, with the knot of ribbons at your girdle thr