“By different means men strive for fame, And seek to gain a sporting name. Some like to ride a steeple-chase; Others at Melton go the pace, Where honour chief on him awaits Who best takes brooks, and rails, and gates, Or tops the lofty ‘bullfinch’ best, Where man and horse may build a nest; Who crams at everything his steed-- And clears it too--and keeps the lead. Some on the ‘Turf’ their pleasure take, Where knowing ‘Legs’ oft bite ‘the Cake’; Others the ‘Road’ prefer; and drest Like ‘reg’lar’ coachmen in their best, Handle the ribbons and the whip, And answer ‘All right!’ with ‘yah hip!’ At steady pace off go the tits, Elate the Sporting Dragsman sits; No peer nor plebeian in the land With greater skill drives four-in-hand.” [Illustration: SIR ST. VINCENT COTTON.] Cotton, known to the plebeian professionals of the Brighton Road as “the Baronet,” and to his familiars as “Vinny,” was so hard hit by his disastrous gambling that he owned and drove the Brighton “Age” for a living. Let us do him the justice to add that he did not attempt to disguise the fact, and that he took his misfortunes bravely, like a sportsman. Reduced, as a consequence of his own folly, from an income of £5000 a year to nothing, “I drive for a livelihood,” he said to a friend: “Jones, Worcester, and Stevenson have their liveried servants behind, who pack the baggage and take all short fares and pocket all the fees. That’s all very well for them. I do all myself, and the more civil I am (particularly to the old ladies) the larger fees I get.” He, indeed, made £300 a year out of this coach, and got his sport for nothing.