At last we reach Epsom Hill, and here we pay two guineas for the admission of our party and conveyance. We are also entitled to a place anywhere on the hill which overlooks the race-course. Our horses are picketed after being taken from the wagon, and our two attendants spread before us a most sumptuous repast. Coaches of every kind are so thickly jumbled together that for a vast distance the hill seems covered with a coat of dark paint.
| “A short run of an hour.” (See page 83.) |
Thousands and thousands of men, women and children are assembled upon this hillside, while tens of thousands fill the stands and encircle the race-course. It is estimated that no less than from one hundred thousand to one hundred and fifty thousand persons are massed together at these races.
The race-course is not like those in the United States, but is a sodded strip extending about half a mile in a straight line. The ringing of a bell announces the commencement of the races, and the mass of humanity surges to and fro in great excitement. Now is the book-maker’s time, and he passes hither and thither, shouting his offers to the enthusiastic multitude, who accept or reject his propositions with eagerness or scorn, corresponding with their knowledge or ignorance of the horses ventured. Gambling and betting are at their height: vast sums of money change hands at the conclusion of the races, and many inexperienced as well as reckless ones leave the field at night ruined men. Meanwhile the confusion is indescribable.
But these sounds drop away, and silence prevails as five slender well-shaped racers appear, ridden by jockeys, but when the wild mad race begins in which each endeavors to outdo the others, the excitement and tumult know no bounds: shouts, groans, cheers fill the air, and every eye is strained along the course: one could readily believe that a whole world of mad spirits has been let loose to fill the air with their hoarse discordant sounds.
As the winning horse reaches the goal, a placard of large dimensions, on which his number is conspicuously painted, is raised within full view of the swaying crowd. The shouts and cheers burst forth afresh, and jubilee and pandemonium mingle their extremes in a scene to be imagined only by those who have experienced it.
As the first excitement cools, bets are paid, and accounts squared. Again the bell rings: another race, and a repetition of the previous scene, and so it continues for several hours.