For many years the Lottery had been drawn at Guildhall, but it was afterwards removed to Cooper’s Hall. At both places the tickets were drawn out of the wheels by two scholars of Christ’s Hospital, or Bluecoat boys—who were thus selected for this office because their youth, and supposed integrity,[52] rendered them less liable than other boys, to be tampered with. The accompanying illustration gives a very life-like presentment of the scene. The last public Lottery, in England, was drawn in October, 1826. [Illustration: DRAWING THE LOTTERY AT COOPER’S HALL.] Needless to say that Gambling, either in the form of card playing, dicing, or lotteries, was not the only way that fools and rogues could throw away their money. Still there were two resources left—the Turf, and Cock-fighting. The Turf was undoubtedly purer then than now, when it has reached such a pitch of refinement in blackguardism, and scoundrelism, that it must soon either be swept away, or violently reformed. Racing then was more for encouraging a breed of horses, swift, yet of such staying powers as to be able to run a four-mile heat without breaking down: not like our “exaggerated greyhounds,” who can barely stagger over a course of six furlongs, or three quarters of a mile. The stakes were not so high, and although there was much betting on a race, yet it was among the upper class, or men who could afford to lose to each other, and in the society of their equals; and not as at present, when a lord is on familiar terms with a ruffian, so long as he will give the odds required, and may possibly be able to pay if he loses; nor, then, did shop boys make books on races, or talk learnedly of double events, &c., and such scenes as can now be witnessed any race day in Fleet Street, were utterly unknown, and undreamt of. A King’s plate of £100 was then considered worth running for, and noblemen, and gentlemen, matched their horses one against the other, in a proper spirit of emulation. There was a fair amount of racing literature—“Baily’s Racing Register,” “Pick’s Racing Calendar,” “The Turf Register,” “The Racing Calendar,” and “The Sporting Magazine,” and I know, and care not, whether this is an exhaustive list. From some of them we get some curious names of race horses, for their owners then, seem to have run riot in the nomenclature of their animals. What should we say nowadays to such names as “Kiss in a Corner,” “Jack, come tickle me,” “Jenny, come tye me,” “I am little, pity my condition,” “Jack’s my favourite,” “Britons, strike home,” “Why do you slight me?” “Turn about, Tommy,” “Sweeter when clothed,” “Watch them and Catch them,” “First time of Asking,” “Fear not, Victorious,” “Hop, step, and jump,” &c., &c.