"HOW THE RACE WAS WON."

WITH AN ILLUSTRATION BY EDWARD CORBET, AND AN ELUCIDATION BY HENRY CORBET.

Well, here, my lads, safe home once more
Have I and the old mare found our way;
I guess you'd have said it's long before
We could have gone and done it. Eh?
You didn't think it was in us, perhaps,
Or as we could spoil the fav'rite's fun—
But there, you self-conceited chaps,

I'll show you how the race was won.

That is, if so be you'll understand
What I may tell of and advise,

For there's something more for head and hand
Than just a riding exercise-

When the silk's a rattling in the wind,
And all for life you're cramming on,
It's rayther different then, you'll find—
So listen how the race was won.

Well, as I was plaiting th' old gal's mane
An hour or two before she ran,

In comes the guv'nor a'most insane—

"And Death,' says he, "has claim'd Sam Maun: And I don't know what to do nor try;

There's no one here'll get seven stun

And so we're floor'd."-" O, no," says I,

The race ain't over till it's won.

"And 'spose they have schem'd it as you say ;
It but natral seems in such a case
If a man won't have the mount to-day,
A boy, please sir, might take his place.
Two year I have been with Mignonette,
Knows all her ways and all she's done-
Lor' love you sir, I wouldn't fret,

I'd take odds yet the race was won.

Well, I see him thinking of it over,
A rattlin' his silver up like mad;
And "Drat it!" he says,
66 we aint in clover;

I think I must put up the lad.
And Bill," says he, a more out loud;
"I speaks as a father to his son;
Don't you feel nervous in a crowd?

If so, you know, the race aint won.

* "The gentlemen of the press" having originally set up death with a small d, induces me to add, for their especial edification, that the Mr. Death here alluded to is a highly respectable man, and a very clever trainer.-H. C.

And don't you get hankering after home?
A trick you young 'uns mostly learns—
And should you know how and when to come,
And not get gammon'd at your turns?
And-""Stop, sir," says I, but by your leave,
This of our plan I fancy's none:

Go and wait with all the weight they give!"
That wasn't how the race was won.

"Just let me catch her by the head,
And crack her along as she can go ;
And if that don't tell of what they're made
There's nothing here as will, I know.
Let's go a-head, and show a light--

Keep moving, and the game's our own.'
We did it so. 'T warn't half a fight→→

And that's the way the race was won.

You should see'd My Lady flirt her tail,
And hug the posts as round she flew,
And "Sammy" at work to keep in hail,
"The Vicar," a doin' all he knew.
But 't warn't no use, for stout and fast
away

Right clean from 'em we spun;
Then a little hustling, just at last,
And that's the way the race was won.

As the old man led us back to weigh,
"Well Bill," says he,
It might bin worse-"

"that warn't so bad,
But what they say
BELL'S LIFE will tell
"The lad
there:
Did wonders with her, and, verbum sat.,
His head is screwed the right way on."

you

In course it is-we all knows that

Why, that was how the race was won.

"WONT YOU COME OUT TO-NIGHT?”

ENGRAVED BY J. WESTLEY, FROM A PAINTING. BY G. ARMFIELD.

Of all the sportsman's many "merry companions," there are none stick to him so closely or serve him in so many different ways as the rough and ready terrier. In high or low life, for use or show, he is equally at home, and as proportionately appreciated. The gentle Lady Mary prizes her "Gillie as highly, but not more so, than does Waxy Jack, the village snob, his good bit of stuff, old bow-legged, one-eyed, iron-hearted "Crab. At all ages, too, he is as surely the "nongtong-paw" of him born with a spirit within him for sport and fun-from "the school-boy with his shining face," who saves up his income of

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