and qualities of the
different horses named, and making the event (in his own estimation)
as _sure as the Bank of England_:--how finely contrasted with the easy
indifference of the dignified sportsman near him, who leaves all to
chance, spite of the significant nods and winks from a regular _artiste_
near him, who never suffers him to make a bet out of the ring, if it
is possible to prevent him, by throwing in a little suspicion, in
order that he and his friends may have the plucking of their victim
exclusively. The portly-looking man in the left-hand corner _(see
~329~~plate)_ is Mr. Tanfield, one of the greatest betting men on the
turf; who can lose and pay twenty thousand without moving a muscle, and
pocket the like sum without indulging in a smile; always steady as old
Time, and never giving away a chance, but carefully keeping his eye upon
Cocker (i. e. his book), to see how the odds stand, and working away by
that system which is well understood under the term management. In front
of him is the sporting Earl of Sefton, and that highly-esteemed son of
Nimrod, Colonel Hilton Joliffe,--men of the strictest probity, and hence
often appointed referees on matters in dispute.

[Illustration: page329]

Lawyer L----, and little Wise-man, are settling their differences with
_bluff_ Bland, who carries all his bets in his memory till he reaches
home, because a book upon the spot would be useless. In the right-hand
corner, just in front of old General B----n, is John Gully, once
the pugilist, but now a man of considerable property, which has been
principally acquired by his knowledge of calculation, and strict
attention to honourable conduct: there are few men on the turf more
respected, and very few among those who keep _betting_ books whose
conduct will command the same approbation. The old beau in the corner
is Sir Lumley S----n, who, without the means to bet much, still loves
to linger near the scene of former extravagance." "A good disciple of
Lavater," said Transit, "might tell the good or ill fortunes of those
around him, by a slight observance of their countenances. See
that merry-looking, ruby-faced fellow just leaving the door of the
subscription-room: can any body doubt that he has _come off all
right_?--or who would dispute that yon pallid-cheeked gentleman, with
a long face and quivering lip, betrays, by the agitation of his nerves,
the extent of his sufferings? The peer with a solemn visage tears out
his last