seen as at some of these small race-meetings (and in some large ones, too), I think it a pity that they are encouraged by high authorities, whose position among the people is almost that of a teacher. Being at this suburban race-meeting (having obtained the holiday by shamming illness), Alfred at once set to work backing horses. He had in his pocket more than twenty pounds, the surplus of the money he had taken from the iron box, and he had fully made up his mind that a great stroke of good luck was to come to him on this day, and that he would go home with a purse filled with others persons' losings. His plan of operations upon this occasion was a very simple one. He pursued the "doubling" system--a system which undoubtedly would result in gain, if it could be carried out without stopping. In the first race he selected a horse, and backed it for two pounds; the horse did not win. All the better for the next race, thought Alfred, as he walked about, and studied on his race-card the string of horses that were next to compete. In this race he made his selection, and backed his horse for four pounds. Again the horse came in among the rear division, and again Alfred lost. He began to look anxious, and nervously fingered the money in his pocket. Should he leave off, and be content with his losses? He fortified his faint heart with some brandy, and walked among the crowd to pick up information. No, he would go on; the odds were surely in his favour now. He had lost twice; he _must_ win in the third venture. Up went the black board with the names of the horses for the third race. Among them was Never Despair. Acting upon an inspiration, Alfred backed Never Despair for eight pounds, and obtained the odds of five to one--that is, if Never Despair won, Alfred's gain would be forty pounds. The horse _did_ win. It was an exciting race between the favourite and Never Despair; and as the sporting writers said the next morning, Never Despair caught the favourite in the last stride, and won by a short head. "By----!" muttered a man by Alfred's side, "Never Despair's won, and I'm done for!" And, with muttered oaths hanging about his white lips, the loser looked around, ready to pick a pocket. "Hurrah!" cried Alfred, taking off his hat and waving it. "Hurrah! Never Despair's won!" But stopped suddenly, for fear that a mistake might occur, or that there might be something wrong with the horse, or that the jockey might be found a pound short in his weight. His first fear was dispelled by the appearance of the number of Never Despair on the black board. Then Alfred, trembling with excitement, waited for the magic words which would proclaim that the jockey had passed his ordeal in safety, and that the race was really and truly won by the horse he had backed. The three or four minutes that intervened seemed to be three or four hours, and Alfred fretted and fumed, and dug his nails into his hands. At length came the magic cry from the saddling paddock, "All right!"