The Scouring of the White Horse; Or, The Long Vacation Ramble of a London ClerkHughes, Thomas
General
The Scouring of the White Horse; Or, The Long Vacation Ramble of a London Clerk
Hughes, Thomas
White Horse, Vale of (England)
Meantime, in the race, Dairymaid shoots at once some yards ahead,
and improves her lead at every stride; for she is a famous mare, and
old Joe Humphries understands the tricks of the course, and can push
her and lift her in ways unknown to the honest carters and foggers,
who come lumbering behind him--Joe even has time for a contemptuous
glance over his shoulder at his pursuers. But the race is not always
to the swift, at least not to those who are swiftest at starting.
Half-way up the course, Dairymaid ceases to gain; then she shows signs
of distress, and scarcely answers to Joe’s persuasions. “King of the
Isle” is creeping up to her--the carter shakes his bridle, and begins
to ply his long cart-whip--they are crossing the Ridgeway, where
stand the carter’s fellow-servants, Mr. Whitfield’s fogger, shepherd,
ploughboys, &c. who set up a shout as he passes, which sends the bay
right up abreast of the mare. No wonder they are excited, for the
master has promised that the three guineas, the price of the new thill
harness, shall be divided between them, if the bay wins.
In another fifty yards he is drawing ahead. All old Joe’s efforts are
in vain; his jockeyship has only done him harm, whereas the carter’s
knowledge of what his steed’s real powers are, has been the making of
him, and he rides in, brandishing his long cart-whip, an easy winner.
Dairymaid is second, but only just before the ruck; and old Joe creeps
away, let us hope, a humbler and a wiser man.
Of course I couldn’t see all this myself, because I was behind, but Joe
told me all about the race directly afterwards. When I got up there was
a great crowd round “King of the Isle,” from whose back the carter was
explaining something about the race. But I couldn’t stay to listen,
for I heard that the races for the “prime coated Berkshire fives” (as
they called the cheeses), were just coming off; so I hurried away to
the brow of the hill, just above the Horse, where it is steepest; for I
wanted of all things to see how men could run down this place, which I
couldn’t get up without using both hands.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account