, was a great favourite with all parties, and what was more, he
was a good man and a gentleman.

Major Longsword from Boyle was the third steward, and he, like his
military colleague, was rather out of his element. He was desired
to keep the populace back and preserve the course; but it seemed to
Major Longsword that the populace didn't care a button for him and
his red coat, and though he valiantly attempted to ride in among
men, women, and children, he couldn't move them; they merely pushed
the horse back with their hands, and the brute, frightened by their
numbers, wouldn't go on. They screamed, "Arrah, sir! go asy; shure
you're on my foot; musha thin, can't you be quiet with the big horse?
faix I'm murdhered with you, sir,--is you going to ride over us?
shure, yer honer, won't you go over there? look how the boys is
pressing in there." The Major soon saw he could do no good, so he
rode out of the crowd, mentally determining that the jockeys might,
if they could, clear the course for themselves.

And now they were off--at least seven of them; for when the important
morning came, the Captain had in vain used every exertion to get a
rider for Kickie-wickie. His ambition had at first soared so high
that he had determined to let no one but a gentleman jockey mount
her; but gradually his hopes declined, and at the ordinary he was
making fruitless inquiries respecting some proper person; but in
vain, and now he had been from twelve to one searching for any groom
in possession of the necessary toggery. He would have let the veriest
tailor in Carrick get on his mare if he had merely been legitimately
dressed. Really, his exertions and his misery were distressing, for
at last he was obliged to send her back to Boyle, after having paid
the stakes and the stable charges for her, and console himself by
telling his friends that the gentleman from Galway, who was to ride
for him, had deceived him, and that he could not possibly have put
any one he did not know upon Kickie-wickie.

But the seven are off. There they go, gently cantering, looking so
pretty, and so clean--the riders so steady--the horses so eager. How
different they will look when three or four, or more probably only
two, are returning to the post! The horses jaded, the men heated,
with whip speedily raised, and sharply falling--spurs bloody--and
jackets soiled, by perhaps more than one violent fall; and yet in ten
minutes this will be their appearance.

"There t