When I was a young man, having a good deal of ready money, and little wit,--I went upon the Turf. I began cautiously, and as I thought, knowingly. I studied the studbook, and learnt the pedigree of every new colt--yet somehow, between sire and dam, continually losing “the pony.” My first experiment was at Newmarket. By way of securing a leading article, I backed the Duke of _Leeds_, but the race came off, and the Duke was not placed. I asked eagerly who was _first_, and was told _Fourth_. The winner was a slow but strong horse, and I was informed had got in front by being a _laster_. This was a _puzzle_, but I paid for my Riddlesworth, and prepared for the Derby. By good luck I selected an excellent colt to stand upon--he had been tried--it was a booked thing--but the day before the Derby there was a family wash, and the Laundress hung her wet linen on his _lines_. I paid again. I took advice about the Oaks, and instead of backing a single horse, made my stand, like Ducrow, upon four at once. No luck. Terror did not start--Fury came roaring to the post--Belle was told out, and Comet was tail’d off. I paid again--and began dabbling in the Sweepstakes, and burning my fingers with the Matches. Amongst others, a bet offered that I conceived was peculiarly tempting, 20,000 to 20 against Post Obit--a bad horse indeed, yet such odds seemed unjustifiable, even against “an outsider.” But I soon found my mistake. The outsider was in reality an insider,--filling the stomachs of somebody’s hounds.--Pay again! I resolved however to retaliate, and the opportunity presented itself. I had been confidently informed that Centipede had not a leg to stand on, and accordingly laid against him as thick as it would stick. The following was the report of the race: “Centipede jumped off at a tremendous pace,--had it all his own way--and justified his name by coming in a hundred feet in front.”--Pay again! These “hollow” matters however fretted me little, save in pocket. They were won easy, and lost to match--but the “near things” were unbearable. To lose only by half a head,--a few inches of horse-flesh! I remember two occasions when Giraffe won by “a neck,” and Elephant by “a nose.” I was almost tempted to blow out my brains by the nose, and to hang myself by the neck! On one of those doubtful occasions, when it is difficult to name the winner, I thought I could determine the point, from some peculiar advantage of situation, and offered to back my opinion. I laid that Cobbler had won, and it was taken; but a signal from a friend decided me that I was wrong, and by way of hedge, I offered to lay that Tinker was the first horse. This was taken like the other, and the Judges declared a dead rob--I mean to say a dead heat.--Pay again!