“Do you have any other recreations equally attractive and delightful?” Miss Newville inquired.
“We have gay times at the Derby during the races. Of course you have felt the excitement of a horse-race, Miss Newville?”
“No, for we do not have horse-racing here; but I believe they do in Virginia.”
“No racing! I am astonished. Are not your people rather slow?”
“We have few diversions, my lord; we do not win money by racing.”
“You can have no conception of what a grand sight it is. Everybody goes to the Derby—dukes, lords, bishops, rectors, ladies, and gentlemen. Before the race begins, we have our lunch parties. All are eating, talking, laughing, or laying bets. The horses come out from their stalls with the jockey boys in red, green, blue, and yellow, in their saddles. They draw lots to see which shall have the inside, then go down the track a little distance. The horses understand what they are to do just as well as we who stake our money. They sniff the air, step lightly, then break into a run, and everybody is on tiptoe. In a moment they are down to the first turn, and come in full view. There are four, perhaps, neck and neck. You have staked, say, on yellow. He loses half a length, and your heart goes down: but he gains a little, is up even once more—half a length ahead, and you yell and double your stakes. They are round the second turn, going like a whirlwind; yellow and blue are ahead of the others, neck and neck.
“‘Two to one on yellow!’ you shout.
“‘I’ll take it!’ roars Lord Pilkington.
“‘Two to one on blue!’ he shouts back.