on the wind. Storey's
Gate was closed, but the mare laughed--a loud, weird laugh--as she
cleared it, and we dropped in Great George Street, where a newsboy
yelled `winners!' with the Parliament House in sight. `We win--we win!'
I cried, for it was the goal. `Give her her head!' the people yelled,
but the mare took it. She stretched her neck right into infinite space,
my silk swelled out like a bubble, and feeling that I must steer now I
drew on the reins, hand over hand--hand over hand--to feel her head; but
it was half a mile away. At last I got a bite. She took the bait--the
bit in her teeth, and I struck, turned her, and we dashed through Palace
Yard again, straight for the great Hall doors. `M.P. mustn't pass!'
shouted an inspector, throwing out his arms. `Head of the poll!' I
yelled, and the mare went through him like a flash, as we reached the
Lobby once more. There was the straight run in, and holding her well in
hand I lifted her over the gangway and settled down to win. How they
cheered! Opposition to right of me, Government to left of me, and the
Speaker ahead of me, waving me on. `The Ayes have it! The
Noes! The Ayes! The Noes! They volleyed, they thundered.
'Vide--'vide--'vide--'vide!' and the mare 'vided them as we still tore
on, nearer and nearer, till the curls in the Speaker's wig grew clear,
and then the whites of his eyes. Nearer and nearer in the mad
excitement of the race, till with one final rush we passed the Mace, the
Irish party rising as one man, and ran past the winning-post right into
Parliament to the roaring of their wild hurroo!"

"Bravo! Hurroo!" shouted Syd, as his uncle stopped, panting heavily
again. "That was how you did it. You won; only you've got it a bit
mixed. But you're coming round. I say, you feel ever so much better,
don't you, for getting rid of that?"

"Oh, it's all over, my lad," cried the trainer. "Did you ever hear the
like?"

"It's only excitement," said Syd. "Look at him; he's calming down now
beautifully. You see, he'd got two things on his brain--the race and
the election--and having been a bit screwed with the bad stuff you let
him have, he naturally got himself a bit mixed."

"Mixed?" said Sir Hilton, turning upon the boy sharply. "Wasn't I
talking about something just now? But look, look at that man Simpkins
rolling his eyes about. Is he going mad?"

"Not a bit o' it, Sir Hilton; it's you as is mad. Ain't it enough as
I've lost w