THE MEMBERS OF THE JOCKEY CLUB-OUR HERO CHANGES HIS QUARTERS DICK MILSOM'S ARTFUL DODGES-THREE AND FOURYEAR-OLD-THE WHIP TRICK-THE JOUNG JOCKEY'S FIRST MOUNT THE BOY IN YELLOW WINS THE DAY."

Our last chapter terminated with the attempt of Captain Moss and his worthy coadjutor O'Shea, to poison the favourite; and so confident were they that the deed had been effectually done, that they lost no time in getting their money on against the supposed drugged horse. Both parties were equally industrious during the night, and upon comparing their books in the morning, found that they stood heavily on the field. Moss had taken up his quarters for the night in the coffee-room of the Spread Eagle, and had let in (as he supposed), every new comer for ten or twenty pounds, while the Irishman had drawn his "rint" from a pandemonium that was kept open during the night at Woodcot Green. It was early, very early, on the morning of the race, that the partners in crime met by appointment in a bye-road near the skirts of the town, and, after O'Shea had recapitulated his doings of the previous night, and satisfied his friend that "all was right and no mistake," they parted, agreeing not to be seen together until the ring had been broken up, and then to meet near the steward's stand, to catch any bets that might be flying the moment previous to and during the race. The sun now darted forth its most brilliant rays, and never did that splendid orb shine upon two more cold-blooded or heartless rogues than those who now wishing each other "good morning," retired to their respective beds, to dream of wealth of gold, little thinking what mischief was in store for them, who, for vile lucre, would have sacrificed their very souls.

The "Wizard," was now put back into his own stall, where he was shortly afterwards seen by one of the captain's emissaries, who, wishing to make assurance doubly sure, had despatched a friend to see that all was right. Dick, taking his cue from the last night's work, gently hinted to the captain's friend, that the "Wizard" seemed rather queerish, but that he had not the slightest doubt that he could pull through the race. The hour of starting, now, was rapidly approaching, and the captain was to be seen very busy in the betting ring, backing the field against the favorite; Milsom was equally industrious, laying even money on the favorite, the "Wizard." When the captain could no longer get his money on even, he took to laying odds, and, when the first bell rang, the "Wizard” was at

two to one.

Whilst the horses are saddling, we cannot do better than put our readers in possession of the captain's real name, birth, parentage, and education. The captain's proper patronymic was MogesBendigo Moses; his genealogy (were we to adopt a turf phrase), would have been Vagabond, by Prize-fighter, out of Fille de joie; to be more explicit, Bendigo Moses was the only son of an itinerant jew orange merchant, who, in the palm-y days of pugilism, had rendered himself immortal in the ring, by his defeat of Sooty Bill, the flue faker, but who afterwards fought a cross, and was expelled from the P. R. Barney Moses (such was the captain's father), was then employed as a door-keeper and bully, at a copper pandemonium, in Orange Street,

Leicester Square, where he became acquainted with a female in the cigar line, who, shortly after their marriage, became the mother of our sporting captain. Young Moses began life by carrying a pea and thimble table, for his father, at the different race courses; from that he became a trader on his own account, and started in the homemade cigar and imitation Bandana silk handkerchief line. During one of his visits to Ascot races, he overheard a conversation between the then Leviathan of the betting ring and a sporting patron, and, turning his intelligence to account, pocketed a good handsome sum upon the cup. With this our heroic captain bid adieu to duffing, and, thinking Moses vulgar, docked his name of its fair proportions, merely reserving the first three letters, pluralising the last, and appeared as Mr. Moss. A journey to Spa, Baden Baden, and other continental places, introduced Mr. Moss to the fashionable world, where, with an easy assurance, a fashionable manner, and a huge pair of mustachios, he passed off as Captain Moss. Expert at dice and cards, the captain soon realized a handsome fortune, and returned to England with every requisite to make a betting man-a gentleman-like deportment, quick powers of calculation, and a few thousands in pocket. For some time the captain was fortunate, but, upon a certain Derby, the fickle goddess deserted him, and he became a levanter. After a temporary absence abroad he had lately returned, and was again trying to make his way into the ring, which he did, by promises of future payment, and by issuing I. O. U.'s to a large amount. Such was Captain Moss, who, now reduced to comparative beggary, was trying, by any means whatever, to recover his lost fortune; in this he was ably abetted by a low Írish black-leg, of the name of Cornelius O'Shea, who had bolted from the Curragh, and who was the prime instigator of the late case of attempted poison, although of too cowardly a nature to take the principal part in it. Return we to the race: the jockeys were mounted, and the captain and his coadjutor had closed their books, when the former was addressed by a brother "leg,"

"The Wizard' can't be beat," exclaimed the new comer, "I never saw a horse in such condition-he looks fit to run for one's life." The captain looked surprised-for a moment his lip quivered, and he turned ghastly pale-could he have been deceived? The occurrence of the preceding night rushed hastily across his brain, and he ejaculated "No-no-impossible!" then addressing a few words to his colleague, in which an attentive listener might have heard the words-with such a dose ?-impossible-it must have effect!" he appeared to regain his former composure. At this moment one of the leading members of the betting ring galloped up, and, addressing a party of noble sportsmen congregated in the steward's stand, exclaimed, "I want to lay a thousand on the Wizard""-Moss was all attention, but no one took the bet-for a moment he seemed lost in thought-then, with the desperation of a drowning man (or, perhaps, hanging man would be more appropriate), he rallied, and shouted "The field for a thousand!" The betting man, who had offered the thousand in the first instance, seeing his customer, quickly responded, "You shall have it for two hundred." "Done," cried Moss,

"make it five"-before an answer could be given, a shout of "They're off!" echoed along the course, and all business was now suspended. The captain stood on the steps of the steward's stand, too nervous to make use of the telescope which he had taken from his side. "The Wizard's making running," exclaimed one"They'll never catch him," responded a second-"There's a dark coloured jacket coming up," said a third; here Moss roused himself for a moment, and putting the glass to his eye, saw the white jacket and blue cap-a new one, sported for the occasion-at least ten lengths in advance his heart sank within him. "The Wizard, in a canter,' exclaimed a dozen voices; here a rush was made by the second horse, which, for an instant, gave the fielders some hope. "The Marquis will have it;" "He's beat;" "The Wizard hard held; and so it was, the rider of the mighty magician had followed the wellknown turf orders-had taken the lead and kept it. Moss hurriedly took his betting book from his side pocket, and, hiding behind the steps of the stand, cast his eye hastily over its pages" one, three, six, four, two, five, five, a thousand-total, three thousand six hundred," muttered the black leg, "I've not as many shillings." His equanimity was now severely tried, for, as he was crossing the course, he met the "Wizard" being led in, and our young hero, Sam Styles, clinging to the horse's neck and patting him, enraptured at his prowThe captain looked daggers, and if a look could have killed, the youthful jockey would have fallen dead on the spot.

ess.

Of course all the backers of the field were loud in their exclamations against Milsom and his four-year-old, as they pronounced him to be; a protest had been made by the owner of the second horse, and many, among them Captain Moss and his Irish colleague, O'Shea, had declared their intention of not paying, so glaring had been the robbery.

In the mean time nothing could exceed the calm manner of Mr. Richard Milsom, whose conduct upon the occasion certainly bore the stamp of honesty. The case was submitted to the members of the Jockey Club, and so completely did the promoters of it fail in their proof, that the stakes and bets were ordered to be paid to the owner of the "Wizard," who, on the following day walked over for another three-year-old sweepstakes, and was, moreover, in no less than four large handicaps, weighted as a beaten three-year-old, for, early in the spring, Mr. Milsom had brought out the "Wizard," full of flesh, and, even with that, had some difficulty in getting him beat for a small sweepstakes-winner to be sold for 80 sovereigns.

One word with respect to selling plates, which we beg humbly to submit to the stewards of the Jockey Club. It is notorious that horses have been drawn after winning the first heat, at provincial race-courses, to prevent their being claimed. It is equally notorious that, in nine cases out of ten, the claiming the winner is not a bona fide transaction. To obviate these and other tricks we would suggest, that every horse, running for a selling plate, should be subject to be claimed by any one having a horse in the race, seniores priores (id est according to their places), adding the amount of the stakes to the amount fixed as the claiming price. Thus, in a plate of £50, winner

to be sold for £80; the winner could be claimed for £80, as he would receive the plate; and any other horse starting for the same could be purchased for £130. It would be no hardship to the owner; for, assuming he ran to win, he would, quoad sale, be in the same situation as if he had come in first; and, in order to meet an objection that might be raised-viz., that the winner of a selling plate, as they now exist, may back his horse, and thereby realize a larger sum if he is claimed-we can only reply that the object of selling plates was to give moderate horses a chance, and that no one need enter that is not satisfied with the amount of the stakes and sum named as the claiming price. In too many instances these plates have been selling plates with a vengeance.

Trusting that our readers will pardon this digression, and that the stewards of the Jockey Club will, at least, turn the suggestion offered over in their minds, we will, in the next chapter, proceed with our history.

No sooner was the roguery of Richard Milsom discovered than our young jockey, without waiting for his fathers's sanction, hastily left his service. Scarcely had he quitted his uncle's roof, than he met with a noble lord-noble in every sense of the word, and who was a true patron of the turf-one who ran for sport, and not for the love of lucre, and who, although he might occasionally back his horse for a few pounds, did not run the risk of sacrificing his fortune and paternal acres by excessive gambling. This nobleman, who had watched young Samuel Styles's progress, immediately engaged him, and from the den of iniquity our young hero had lately been in, and, wonderful to relate, in which he had not been contaminated, he found himself in the well-arranged stables of a real old English nobleman, "all of the olden time." Before we take leave of Mr. Milsom we must put our readers in possession of two of his most celebrated "artful dodges," and which, while they stamped him as a villain of the deepest hue, proved also that sharpness was as predominant in his character as roguery. The threeyear-old colt, The Wizard of the North, by Jerry Blossom, as he was called, was (as our readers will probably have divined) a four-yearold, by one of the best stallions of the day, out of a mare as thoroughbred as any in all England; indeed, the sire, dam, great grandsire, and grandam had carried off one Oaks and a couple of Derbys in their day, independent of cups and plates without end. At a sale of bloodstock, Dick Milsom having scraped together some hundreds himself— borrowed his wife's dower, four hundred pounds-and purchased, at a considerable price, the colt foal in question, then six months old. The colt was entered for the Derby, and before he reached his second year was given out as dead. In the meantime Milsom had made a purchase of a colt foal, by an unknown country stallion, out of a very moderate mare, a year younger than the "dead" one, of the same colour and marks. This latter one he entered in the three-year-old stakes we have described, naming him "The Wizard of the North," by Jerry Blossom, out of a mare by Screveton, out of Cream of the Valley. Upon the principle of exchange being no robbery, Milsom put the four-year-old dead one into training, getting rid of the real

three-year-old at Northampton fair. Every one, of course, remarked that the Wizard was wonderful for his age, more so as to his shape, and that it was quite a miracle how he could be the son of such an unworthy sire. Affairs went on in this way, and, as we have shewn, the horse came out and won; still nothing could be proved, and to this day the secret would have been kept profoundly, had not a Newmarket watcher of trials, who was sentenced to transportation for occupying his winter hours in sheep-stealing, made a confession that when he was a boy in Milsom's stable, the exchange had been made. At first the trainer put a good face upon the subject; shewed letters in which the watcher had asked him for money to enable him to employ counsel on his trial, and which he had refused to give, but the evidence of the man who had bought the colt at Northampton, added to that of a jockey then in the employ of Milsom, could not be refuted, and Richard Milsom was denounced as a convicted rogue.* "Misfortunes seldom come single," says the old proverb, and the truth of it was realized in the present case; an anonymous letter was forwarded to the stewards of a particular race-course, offering, for a reward of five guineas, to give ample proof of another of Richard Milsom's "artful dodges." The offer was accepted, and Milsom was sent for to confront his accuser face to face. The latter was a man advanced in years, who had formerly looked after Milsom's small farm and paddocks, and who had been thrown into prison for a debt claimed by his master. Milsom having upon one occasion found this man too honest for his place, and fearing that he would look too attentively into his future practices, gave him notice to quit, and then commenced an action against him for a small sum, which he had advanced to furnish his son a passage to Canada as a settler. In vain did old Isaac Budd (such was his name) assert that he had long since worked out the debt; the lawyer, a dirty, pettifogging attorney, commenced proceedings, and finally cast the defendant into the debtors' gaol. There for years he remained, and might have continued so to do to the end of his life, had not one of the visiting magistrates taken compassion upon him, and liberated him by paying the alledged debt of eight pounds, with the addition of three-andtwenty pounds costs to the rascally limb of the law. Hearing of the four-year-old affair, old Isaac had now come forward to substantiate another against his former master and persecutor. We will not dwell upon the case-the quibbles, quirks, and contradictions which Mr. Milsom, aided by his attorney, made to the charge-suffice it to say that it was clearly proved that Milsom, when he rode as a jockey for himself, at least, had a large whip made hollow, in which he inserted sundry ounces of quicksilver, with this whip he weighed, and

A case not very dissimilar to the one above narrated has lately occurred in France, in which Lord Henry Seymour was the plaintiff, and M. Aumont defendant. It was an action to recover the price of a mare, sold to the noble lord as Herodia by Aaron, but which upon evidence was proved not to be the "real Simon Pure." The result of the action was that the Cour Royale of Paris decided that the mare sold by M. Aumont to M. Palmer, and by him transferred to Lord Henry Seymour, was a supposititious Herodia; for it ordered them are to be taken back by M. Aumont, he returning the 1,000 francs paid for her, and a further sum of 1,000 francs to the noble plaintiff towards the expenses he had been put to, and also the costs of his lordship and M. Palmer in the suit.