"Win—ar, Win—ur,—ere y'are, Sir, Latest betting on the Leger." These were the words yelled miny ear by a street Arab early in the afternoon of Tuesday, the 8th of September, when I was about to enter the "Woolpack," words that reminded me that atoll costs I must visit Doneister Town Moor 6n the morrow, have alook at the mighty Persimmon, and, if possible, a glimpse his royal owner, the Prince of Princes. How many pleasant memories of byegont days in London town the Woolpach conjures upon one's mind, not perhaps in the shape of sumptuoustiftins washed down with some of the best—for in those days of long ago a bun and a bitter" and a seat in the pit of the Lyceum were considered better value—but times have changed, waiters doubtless still have that knack of caleulatingeighteenpence as one and eightpence—such little eccentricities still occur just in their old sweet way—but amongst my old friends on furlough from the Model Settlement the Woolpack was the midday meeting, as well as eating, house where a table was specially reserved for the China hands. On the day in question it was my mis-f tune to be somewhat Into, and I therefore missed the preliminary canter at the bar, where most charming Indy with ever ready wit and a smile that would smash a kodak was on the alert to allay one's thirst, especially that of any of the China party, even though the knights of the napkin" who were attending to customers atlitele tables close at hand were repeatedly calling for "Three Scotches, please, Miss, two beers and a brandy in order."
Nothing is so welcome at home after a long residence in the East as the meeting of old Shanghai friends; there is a sort of ood-fellowship feeling which one so longs for when recognising that the home chums of long ago have dropped out of the running. Here you are, old man," were the cheerful words with which the namesake of the man who never told a lie—my host—greeted me, and around me were the smiling faces of Sandford, Ramsey G., the Yarman Broker, and Horace. Bobby too was there and no less than three at one ime representatives in Shanghai of Vu Lee, to say nothing of Billy B. who, between the courses, hummed a line or two of Gus Elen's latest, It's a rear big shame." Many a yarn of dear old Shanghai and the good fellows there went the rounds, and the merry party broke up, those not otherwise engaged promising to put in an appearance early the next day on the platform at King's Cross to catch the Doncaster express. ate It was 7 o'clock next morning when No. 614 was called at the Hotel Metropole. What a horrible idea it is being known by a number, a custom that I have heard also prevails in the "Queen's" hotel. But, to resume, the weather pointed to anything but an ideal race day; rain was falling at intervals and the sky was overcast. On my way to breakfast I had the pleasure of meeting two old Shanghailanders—one the head of the Princely house in the late seventies, and through whose kind invitation I had many a grand gallop after the hounds, which in.ose days were his private property; the other friend was the late taipan of Chang 'Tai, known by his intimate friends as the 'Long' un." The weather was not sufficiently inviting for them to visit the Town Moor but it was a great pleasure to meet two such prominent! members of the Shanghai sporting world oflong ago, men who played the game all round with the highest motives and whose names recall many grand nies of the past, Jolly Friar, Merry Monk, Black Cloud, Sarchedon,' Driviny Cloud, and others too numerous to mention. ae A hurried breakfast and a hansom Iand-ed me fit at King's Cross in nice time for the 9.5 express, and on the platform I found the Yarman Broker, Sandford, and a prominent representative of the Blue and liver now on furlough. The weather no doubt deterred our other friends from putting man appearance. As for ourselves, we were merry party determined upon having, agood time, even though the scratching of St. Fruspein had turned the great race into 8 procession, but we were bent upon ming-shire roar for the Prince and his grand ling a few Shanghai cheers with the York-horse. In such good company thethreehours' journey soon passed, und while tickets were being taken atthe stoppage before Doncaster I had an opportunity of a few words with the guard before he gave the "right away." ae of it? Will the Prince do it?" "No, Si "Well, guard," said T, "what do you make
will not, Lebrador is agoing to beat him. hold my breath, for I had never heard of the name before, but a glance at the Sportsman told me that he referred to Morny Cannon's mount Labrador, with the accent on the last' syllable lusterd of on the two's. It is surprising the hold that sport nowadays has on the British public, in cricket and racing T have sp-cially Fotice' it. W. G., Banji, Tommy Lostes, Morny Cannon, and many more names are household words; waiters, hair-dressers, porters, telegraph boys, cabbies, all are an fait with the very latest doings of their oven with the betting, and it is the exception if they have not a "bit on in fact you may take it from me a third of all England has a splash on the "great events."
Arriving at Doncaster station "C'rect card" were the first words we heard, and then as we passed outside, it seemed that—trap with either two or four wheels and every horse that could stand up were in ess to convey passengers to and from the course, piloted by Jehus of the lowest type, many with the "finest flow of language ever eard," as the coster song says, and after striking bargain to the tune of 16s. for two inferior hansoms to convey the four of us the mile and a half to the course we felt indeed that we were ina strange land. That Doncaster was en fire (as well as en" make") goes without saying; the streets were all decorated, thousands were footing it to the Town 'Moor, and butterscotch, as is usual at the Northern fixture, could' have been bought in bushels. Uponalighting at the course couple of "thickens" each gave us the entréz to Tattersall's and the Paddock, and we were once again on an English Race Course.
But how we sighed for the comforts of the Shanghai Races! Here one's watch was safer left at home, and any little bits of "alright" in the shape of fivers were best secreted in the inside pocket of one's waistcoat. The results probably the same, but it is much preferable. even if you back a ''gee" for "ta shop" that only runs fourth to pay the "'oot" to Dicky Dunn than have your money pinched from your "'sky" by a "wrong un"—in other words have your pocket picked. In the Paddock we were certainly free
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.