Now, it is a well-known fact that if you wish to excite the anger of the inhabitants of Exbridge village, and more particularly of any member of the Pitman training Establishment, you have but to ask for information concerning a certain blind beggar who put in an appearance there towards sunset on the Thursday preceding the Derby of 18--, and you will do so. When that mysterious individual first came in sight he was creeping along the dusty high road that winds across the Downs from Market Stopford to Beaton Junction, dolorously quavering a ballad that was intended to be, though few would have recognized it, "The Wearing of the Green." On reaching the stables he tapped along the wall with his stick, until he came to the gate. Then, when he was asked his business by the head lad, who had been called up by one of the stable boys he stated that he was starving, and, with peculiar arts of his own induced them to provide him with a meal. For upwards of an hour he remained talking with the lads, and then wended his way down the hill towards the village, where he further managed to induce the rector to permit him to occupy one of his outhouses for the night. After tea he went out and sat on the green, but towards eight o’clock he crossed the stream at the ford, and made his way up to a little copse, which ornamented a slight eminence, on the opposite side of the village to that upon which the training stables were situated. How he found his way, considering his infirmity, it is difficult to say, but that he did find it was proved by his presence there. It might also have been noticed that when he was once under cover of the bushes he gave up tapping the earth with his stick, and walked straight enough, and without apparent hesitation, to the stump of a tree upon which he seated himself. For some time he enjoyed the beauty of the evening undisturbed by the presence of any other human being. Then he heard a step behind him and next moment a smart-looking stable lad parted the bushes and came into view. "Hullo," said the new-comer. "So you managed to get here first?" "So I have," said the old rascal, "and it’s wonderful when you come to think of it, considering my age and what a poor old blind chap I be. But I’m glad to find ye’ve managed to get away, my lad. Now what have ye got to say for yourself?" "I don’t know that I’ve got anything to say," replied the boy. "But this much is certain, what you want can’t be done." "And a fine young cockerel you are to be sure, to crow so loud that it can’t be done," said the old fellow, with an evil chuckle. "How do you know it can’t?" "Because I don’t see my way," replied the other. "It’s too dangerous by a long sight. Why, if the guv’nor was to get wind of what you want me to do, England itself wouldn’t be big enough to hold us both. You don’t know ’im as well as I do."