The winning post stood alongside the river bank somewhere between the present mile and seven furlong barriers. It was a handy spot at which the steamers could tie up to gum trees on the banks, and could disembark their passengers, but it had the disadvantage of being a considerable distance from the top of the steep, rising ground which soon became known as Picnic Hill. It was not, however, until the sport had been in existence for some twenty years that it was found advisable to change the winning post to its present site, thus converting the Hill into a permanent, convenient and commodious stand. By the year 1846 racing had taken a very firm hold of the light-hearted community, and already a public idol had been discovered and worshipped, spoken about and written about, much in the same way as the public and the press magnify our idols the Carbines, the Poitrels, the Artillerymen, and the Eurythmics of our own times. This golden image which the folk had set up on the Flemington Flats was a dark chestnut horse called Petrel. The reports concerning his paternity and his adventures before he became a racehorse varied considerably. By some he was considered to be by Rous’ Emigrant, whilst a sporting writer of the period maintained that he was “by Operator or Theorem from a Steeltrap mare.” The most authentic story concerning his origin seems to have been that, in 1841, an overlander between Sydney and Adelaide arrived at a station near the Grampians, bringing along with him two well-bred looking mares. Both were heavy in foal, and it was believed that they had been stolen. The overlander found employment on the station of a Mr. Riley, and here the foals, both of them colts, were dropped. One of these was Petrel. At two years old the colts were sold to the overseer of a Dr. Martin for thirty-six pounds the pair, and the future champion commenced his education as a stock horse. Mr. Colin Campbell soon heard that Petrel had shown wonderful speed after cattle and emus, and you may be pretty sure that the stockmen had also discovered on their homeward way of an evening, that “the big chestnut beggar could gallop like fun.” Mr. Campbell swopped a mare worth twenty pounds for him, and his racing career then began. He was the undoubted champion of Victoria, and was then despatched, per sailing ship, to Botany Bay, to “take the Sydney-siders down.” But the voyage over was long and rough, he had no time before the races in which to recover himself, and he was very well beaten. The excitement in Sydney was tremendous, and the description of the event reminds one somewhat of a latter day happening when the Victorian, Artilleryman, was unexpectedly defeated by the New South Wales representative, Millieme, in the St. Leger.