They had alighted on an immense grassy plain, which stretched away in every direction, as far as the eye could reach. On every side were to be seen men and women and children, mounted on horses. To their right a band of youths, arrayed in coloured shirts, white linen breeches, and yellow boots, and wearing little coloured caps, jauntily set upon their heads, were careering wildly hither and thither on swift and wiry ponies. They were waving in the air long sticks, fitted with a cross block of wood at the end, and were pursuing a wooden ball. Many were the collisions, the crashes, and the falls. On every side men and ponies rolled over in the dust; but they rose, shook themselves as though nothing had happened, and dashed again into the fray. Father TIME shouted with enthusiasm.
"Yes," said the Sage, "you do well to cheer them. They are gallant youngsters these. The game they play is 'Polo,' and though the expense be great, the contempt of danger and pain is also great. They play it well, but I doubt not we could match them at Hurlingham. But see," he added, "on our left. What rabble is that?" As he spoke a panting deer flew past them hard pressed by a pack of yelping hounds. Close behind came a mob of riders, two or three of them glittering in scarlet and gold, the rest in every variety of riding-dress.
"Behold," said the Arch-philosopher, "a Royal Sport. These are the Castorian Buck-hounds; that elderly gentleman is their master. They pay him £1500 a-year to provide sport for Cockneys. The sport consists in letting a deer out of a cart and chasing him till he nearly dies of fatigue. Then they rope him and replace him in the cart. After that they all drain their flasks, and consider themselves sportsmen. Poor stuff, I think."
"Of course," said the Father, "you have nothing of that sort in England."
Mr. Punch was about to reply when a well-appointed four-in-hand drove up, and a courteous gentleman who handled the ribbons, offered the two strangers seats.
"I will take you," he remarked, "to our great national race-meeting. I assure you it is well worth seeing."
The offer was accepted. A pleasant drive brought them to the race-course. To tell the truth it was much like most other race-courses. A huge crowd was assembled, and the din of roaring thousands filled the air. As they drove up a race had just started, and it was pretty to see the flash of the coloured caps and jackets in the sun. The horses came nearer and nearer. As they rounded the bend which led into the straight run in, the excitement became almost too great for Father TIME. A torrent of sporting phrases broke from his lips. One after another he backed every horse on the card for extravagant sums, and the bets were promptly, but methodically booked by Mr. Punch. A handsome chestnut was leading by two good lengths, and apparently going strong, but about a hundred yards from the post he suddenly slowed down for some unaccountable reason. In a moment a bay and a brown flew past him, there was a final roar and the race was over. The bay had won, the brown was second, and the chestnut a length behind, was only third. "Most extraordinary thing that," said the Paternal One; "I made sure the chestnut would win."