Chapter IV: The Two Thousand and One Thousand Guineas (3)

The professional bookmakers who first took the field in opposition to the "gentlemen legs," as a few of the layers of the odds were designated, were not, so far as education and manners were concerned, particularly bright; but in consideration of their being prompt to pay when they lost, their defective education and lack of manners were overlooked. Several of the gentlemen who owned race-horses soon discovered that the mere winning of a stake by means of any particular race, however large the sum run for might be, did not reimburse them for the outlays which they had to make by keeping a stud of horses; hence the horse became an instrument of gambling, and remains so at the present time.

II.

Betting on greyhound coursing, especially in connection with the struggle for the Waterloo Cup, run for amid the distraction and ditches of Altcar, is assumed to be gambling _in excelsis_. When a person backs a horse for a race, the event is decided, so to speak, in an instant; there may of course be a dead heat, but dead heats are sufficiently rare, and need not be calculated upon. When a man bets on the Derby, he is delivered from all suspense within three or four minutes after the fall of the starter's flag. But it is not so in the case of the dogs. On the average of the courses decided at Altcar, a brace of greyhounds will keep the bettor in suspense for six minutes or so, and when it is considered, in the case of a stake in which sixty-four dogs take part, six races must be run before the backer of a dog to win the Cup can receive his money, it will be sufficiently obvious that very long odds ought to be obtained against those dogs which take part in the struggle. Such, however, as a rule, is not the case, and sanguine men have been known to accept odds against a dog which had six races to run, which they would have indignantly refused against a horse which had only to run once to win or lose them their money. In the case of one Waterloo Cup the winning dog actually ran eight times before it was declared to be entitled to the Blue Ribbon of the leash. What, then, it will be asked, by those who are unfamiliar with the incidents of coursing, are the rate of odds given and taken on such occasions? And if the odds offered are false, what are the figures which would really represent the true chances of the animals competing in a Waterloo Cup sixty-four?

Some questions, as all the world is aware, are much easier to ask than to answer, and the question just formulated is one of them. If the _form_ of the sixty-four dogs which are nominated for the Waterloo Cup was utterly unknown, the price of each could only, of course, be represented at what may be called a very long figure--say, for the sake of even counting, 100 to 1--and when the first round of the struggle was finished, and thirty-two of the dogs defeated, the odds, even in that case, against the thirty-two survivors of the first act of the battle should still be considerable, five rounds of the battle having yet to be contested. But as the form of the dogs had become known from what they had accomplished in the first course, it is vain to expect that 40 to 1 will be offered by any of the bookmakers--although it is fully that sum, and much more, against half the number--because as the event proceeds sixteen of the dogs must be beaten, and so on to the end of the stake; the sixteen victors will in time be reduced to eight, four, two, and one. The task which is originally set before the bettor on the Waterloo Cup is, as a matter of fact, to select out of a pack of sixty-four dogs that one which will in the end be declared victor, and it is assuredly no easy task even to persons who are familiar with the previous performances of the animals. In dog races as in horse races, the favourite sometimes wins--and the Waterloo Cup has been taken more than once by the same animal--the winner on the second occasion starting at pretty short odds. Master McGrath, a dog belonging to the late Lord Lurgan, won the Cup three times, whilst the successes of Fullerton have been recently chronicled.

It is impossible to tell what may happen to dogs in such a struggle as the Waterloo Cup. Some which have previously shown good form in other coursing matches, even on the same ground, prove worthless while the battle of Waterloo is being fought, going down before, perhaps, a foe of no fame in the very first round. Even the very best greyhound must have good fortune on its side to achieve such a victory; it must, too, be in the best of health, it must get well away from slips, and be slipped against a lively hare, and then it must do all it knows to beat its opponent. A judge is appointed at all coursing meetings in order to decide which is the best dog in every pair that is slipped. He judges after a given fashion by awarding to the runners the "points" which they make, the dog which makes the greatest number being declared the winner of the course.

To those who are not "up" in the mysteries of coursing a brief explanation of the mode of judging may be given. Great powers are invested in the judge; what he says is law, and from his decision there is no appeal. The brace of dogs being in the slips are let loose by the slipper "at" a hare, which he runs them on to, so that they may see it. The speediest dog from the slips will receive one, two, or three marks, as the judge may determine, the number given being dependent on the opinion he may form of the race. For a "go-bye," the judge may award two or even three points. A "go-bye" is when a greyhound starts a clear length behind his companion, then passes him and gets a length in front. For turning the hare one point is given; for a "wrench," which means diverting the hare from its course at less than a right angle, half a point is awarded. For a "trip"--a trip is an unsuccessful effort to kill the hare on the part of the dog--one point is given by the judge. The killing of the hare obtains two points if it prove a very meritorious one. To the dog which, in its course, is awarded a majority of these marks the victory is given.

Critics and tipsters who attempt a week or ten days before the battle begins to point out the victor have a rather hard task set them, but on some occasions the winner is "spotted" with wonderful precision. As a matter of course, in dog prophecy as in predicting winners of horse-races, the tipsters either "follow the money" or depend on "public form" to pull them through.

Great complaints have been made in various quarters about the chicanery which in some years has been associated with the Waterloo Cup. Certain members of the committee are very jealous of the honour of this great coursing match being kept as free from any stain as possible; but those who have carefully studied the incidents of the great Altcar gathering are perfectly convinced that there is in connection with it, to designate it mildly, a good deal of "finessing": and a large amount of the gambling element has long been a most prominent feature of the meeting. In some years plenty of wagering takes place. The Waterloo Cup being set for decision at a season of the year when much horse-racing cannot take place, and when betting on horse-racing is not at all brisk, commands the speculation of the moment, and gives rise in consequence to a vast amount of gambling. As a popular writer on the turf says, the dogs give occasion for "one of the biggest gambles of the season."

So long as the Cup is constituted as at present, this game of speculation will continue. The gentlemen who have subscribed to the stake do not require to nominate the dog they intend to run till the evening preceding the first day of contest. It is obvious, therefore, that by this plan of procedure there is room for any amount of "manœuvring," and that a nomination may be backed to win perhaps £20,000 at pretty long odds, while in the end a dog may be named to fill it which, had its name been known, would have caused the nomination in which it was to run to become first favourite. This will be better explained by imagining that the present year's winner will be able to run again next year; if so, and the nomination in which it is to run be made public, it will assuredly be backed at a very short price, say 7 or 8 to 1, long before the night of the draw; indeed, the moment betting begins, which is usually about the middle of January or earlier, it will figure in all the lists as "first favourite." But supposing the dog were next year to belong to a gambling owner, he would never be a party to its running at any such odds as has been indicated; he would want most likely, for the benefit of himself and friends, to back the animal to win some £20,000, and the longer the odds he could obtain the less risk he would have of losing money; therefore, he looks about him to find some gentleman possessed of a nomination but without a dog good enough to run in such an important stake as the Waterloo Cup. That gentleman's nomination may be quoted in the public betting at 50 or 66 to 1, so that if it can be arranged that he shall run the dog, a large sum of money may be won (in the event of victory) at excellent odds as prices are now arranged.

This sort of thing has occasionally taken place, some of the tactics employed being scandalous enough; but where there is gambling there must in time be scandal. Large sums change hands over this great dog contest, because, in addition to the "long odds" against a dog winning the stake right out, there is an immensity of speculation on every separate course, when the "short odds" are taken against one dog beating the one which goes to slips with it. Probably there will be five or six thousand persons present at the contest busy betting on every course, and in this way, in the course of the three days during which the battle wages, many thousand pounds will certainly change hands.

Prizes are provided for the thirty-two dogs which are beaten in the first round of the Cup; these are the Purse and Plate, on which (locally) a vast amount of betting also takes place. No calculation of the amount of money which changes hands or is betted on the great Altcar contest has ever been made. It has, however, been more than once publicly stated that a Waterloo dog can be, and has been, backed to win a sum of £40,000 for behoof of its owner and his friends and followers, while it is often enough the case that dogs hailing from some populous locality, dogs which have a name, are entrusted with the sovereigns of four or five thousand persons. It would be no exaggeration to say, generally, of the Waterloo Cup that probably a dozen out of the sixty-four dogs nominated will be backed on the average to win (at the long odds) £25,000 each, whilst ten may be entrusted with the odds to win some £10,000, making for these dogs a sum of £400,000, which has been laid at various rates of odds, and it may be taken that the other forty-two dogs will be backed before the contest is over to win £100,000. Only one dog, of course, can win, so that as a rule bookmakers should be largely in pocket, especially when most of the favourites are beaten in the first round--no improbable event; other animals then come into prominence and are heavily backed. A provincial bookmaker, who never betted to more than pound stakes, told the writer that on the first two days of Snowflight's year (1882) he gained a clear profit of £279, and being quite pleased, stopped business and contented himself the last day with looking on at the gambling of others, and so making his visit to Altcar a profitable and pleasant holiday.

Two thousand people, it is averred, will each bet, on the average, £1 over every course which is run at Altcar, which, on the Cup alone, would represent in stakes alone a sum of over £125,000. These figures--they are but rough calculations at their best--may be taken for what they are worth, as affording an index of the gambling which is incidental to the modern "Battle of Waterloo."

Apropos to the name "Waterloo" Cup, it may be mentioned that it is not at all of heroic origin; as a matter of fact, the stake originated in the Waterloo Hotel, at Liverpool, which has long since disappeared, its site being included in the buildings of the central station. This hotel was in its day a hostelry of some degree of fame and a choice resort of the coursing fraternity. In that house, then, in the year 1835 the stake was originated, and run for in the following spring for the first time, eight dogs only taking part in the contest, the winner being Melanie, a dog belonging to Mr. Lynn, the landlord of the house. Such was the origin of the present great Altcar contest. At first an eight dog stake, it speedily became one for sixteen and then for thirty-two greyhounds. In 1857 the Waterloo Cup reached its present dimensions, and has ever since continued a sixty-four dog stake.

III.

Many who desire to become rich with rapidity think the turf a smooth road to fortune. Every few weeks an appetising paragraph "goes the round," telling the world that another fortune has been won on the racecourse, that Mr. So-and-So has "landed" £25,000 by the victory of a horse in one of the popular handicaps! Such an announcement excites the cupidity of hundreds, and so a rush takes place to back many horses for the next important struggle. Very few who try succeed; fortunes, they soon find out, come only to the fortunate, and in time many of the eager fighters for the favour of the blind goddess find themselves _hors de combat_, and then retire disgusted from the arena. A few doughty combatants fight on in the hope of ultimate success, one of them, perhaps, to find, after many days, that he has become enriched during the struggle.

Some who think themselves wiser than their fellows come early to the conclusion that the indiscriminate backing of horses, or even tipsters, or newspaper selections is a blunder, and so resolve to try a "system," feeling sure that by speculating on a well-defined principle they must make money. In due time the cleverest think out for themselves or are put on a plan by some friend, which is morally certain to prove successful. It may be one of the many systems known in connection with turf speculation, "following the favourites," or backing one's own fancies, or it may be the following of jockeys.

To back the horses ridden by certain jockeys has for years past been one mode of speculation on the turf. It was first brought to the notice of the public by a Mr. John Denman, who acted for a time as a racing commissioner, and who maintained (he published an elaborate essay on the subject) that it would prove profitable to back horses ridden by men who were always winning.

In persistently following Barrett, Watts, Woodburn, Canon, or Loates, or any other jockey, the plan of putting down a given sum on each mount, win or lose, may be adopted, or a particular jockey may be followed in sequences of six or seven trials, or even a lesser number at pleasure, the stake being doubled on each occasion of a loss, till the end of the sequence, and in cases--no uncommon occurrence--of a sequence running out before a win has been secured, beginning again. There are many, some even well versed in turf affairs, who probably think it almost impossible that Loates, Canon, or Barrett or some equally clever horseman, could be unsuccessful for seven consecutive turns; but should the jockey selected prove unsuccessful even four times running, and then at the fifth trial score a win, the very meagre price usually offered against a popular rider proving victorious--indeed, the horse entrusted to him very often starts with odds betted _on_ it--renders the winning account, on most occasions, anything but profitable. It is not sometimes a very easy matter to invest a large sum on a comparatively small race, and in connection with the mounts of the more popular jockeys the investment of £320 would not often cover previous losses; it might happen on occasion that £100 would require to be risked to win £30, so that in the event cited a loss of over £224 would be sustained on the run of six non-successful mounts in the sequence, and it is needless to say that a series of such misfortunes would speedily exhaust a pretty well-filled bank.

To the uninitiated in turf mysteries, for whom this book is more immediately intended, it may be necessary to explain that a "sequence" may be arranged to extend over any number of mounts from two to twelve, or even a greater number if that were practical, which it is not, because in such case the sum to be invested could not be "got on," it would have become so large. The sum fixed upon as a stake may be for any reasonable amount from £1 to £20, only it is not desirable to fix it at a very large amount for the reason just given--it would swell to an unmanageable size. Taking £5 as a representative sum, it will be seen that before the seventh trial, should the six previous efforts have failed, a smart sum of money will have been expended--the following amounts, in fact: £5, £10, £20, £40, £80, £160, or a total of £315. The next stake invested, in the event of none of the six having proved fruitful, would amount to £630, and if that also should be lost, it would, of course, swell the total. On the other hand, £630 invested on a race at 2 to 1, would yield a return of £1,260, and thus, after deducting the money lost, yield a capital profit.

The vicissitudes experienced from time to time by backers of horses would, if related at length, fill a volume. Many anecdotes are in circulation of men who have been ruined by backing horses, as well as of others to whom the turf has proved a stepping-stone to fortune. I remember when there used frequently to be recorded a suicide over the Derby, which was said to be the result of losses sustained over that highly popular race, but such narratives were usually taken _cum grano salis_. It is not over such races as the Derby that the common run of backers come to grief, because that race does not present such favourable opportunities to speculators as the popular handicaps.

The Derby is a race for which the general public evince much partiality, and on which a large number of persons who never bet on any other race risk a sovereign. Professional bettors, of course, bet on the result of the Derby as they do on all other contests; but the "form" of the horses which take part in the struggle having generally become well known, there is not the same temptation presented to speculators as in some other events where the odds obtained are more liberal. On the other hand, some men prefer to back the favourites for such races as the Derby and Oaks, being contented with the twos to one and sevens to four which can be procured from the bookmaker; but persons who like the twenties, thirty-threes, and forties, which can often be obtained against handicap winners at some period before the race, do not readily accommodate themselves to the large expenditure involved in accepting small odds. I remember a well-known betting man who is a keen hand and speculates in large amounts, taking £2,000 to £1,000 that Bend Or would win the Derby, and every person knows what a very narrow squeak he had for his money. The same person, incited by his success in backing the winner of the Blue Ribbon of the Turf, backed Versigny to win him £2,000, and by doing so required to risk about £1,200, so that he had only £800 of his Derby gains left, a portion of which was lost over Master Kildare in the Gold Cup.

The person here alluded to, who is well known by his nickname of "Public Form,"[4] is a very heavy bettor, putting down at three out of every four of the race meetings which are held stakes of from £50 to £200 on even the smaller races, whenever in fact he thinks he has got hold of what is called "a good thing." In some seasons "Public Form" has been very successful, although from the state of the odds against the horses which he backs he seldom "lands" a big win; but if he thinks the chance an extra good one he will not scruple to give odds, but will put down £700 to win £400, or he will take even money against the chance.

It will be obvious enough that a person betting such large sums runs heavy risks, more especially as he so seldom goes for big odds. Risks, however, are comparative, and it should be easier, therefore, to realise a 7 to 4 chance than to obtain a win when the odds are at the rate of 66 to 1; in the latter case the bettor only requires to risk £15 to win £1,000, while in the former case to win a similar amount a sum of nearly £600 will require to be risked. Some bold spirits on the turf, when they think the opportunity has befallen them, "down the pieces" in the most fearless manner, or rather they go in for big money at the risk of those who will give them credit. On some occasions a lucky coup will be made that may prove to be the precursor of good fortune. A man may bring off a double event or may win a few hundred pounds over a handicap, and so be able to inaugurate a successful career on the turf. On the other hand, a person may bet for a season with all his might, and with fair knowledge and experience, and lose more than another man may pocket. Numerous instances of such being the case might be cited. It is not long since the sporting journals related the downfall of a backer who in one season made a tolerably nice little fortune by backing the mounts of the chief jockey. In a few months the thousands which that person had realised had taken unto themselves wings and flown away, and so he became "broke," like similar speculators.

There are, however, men on the turf at the present moment who are worth money, and who earned what they possess by betting. The persons here alluded to have proceeded on the lines that "small fish are sweet," and have been contented with modest profits, taking care to keep carefully what they gain. "Old Thatchem,"[5] who is the happy possessor of a whole village in a well-known racing county, made all the money with which he bought or built his houses at the race-meetings held in his own shire. His first bit of luck--he was then a day labourer--was in realising a bet of £10 to 10_s._ on Princess for the Two-year-old Stakes at Doncaster, in 1843. A sum of £10, forty years ago was thought by a labouring man to be "money," and such was the opinion of "old Thatchem." Not a penny of the £10 was parted with till next year, when a sovereign invested on Kedge for the Champagne Stakes doubled the sum, whilst £2 invested on Bee's Wing for the Gold Cup added £16 to the hoard. In three years the old man was worth a cool hundred, which he invested in the purchase of a house. His ambition being stirred, he continued his careful and successful career, and soon became an adept at his business; not that he was always successful; oh, no, many a time he felt the frost of speculation; on such occasions, like a prudent general, he wisely desisted from business for a brief period that his _luck_ might have room, as he was wont to say, to turn itself round.

By way of contrast to this prudent Yorkshireman, take the case of a young fellow who a good many years ago flashed upon the turf like a meteor. Winning £300 when Caractacus won the Derby, he followed up his success at Epsom by bagging a large amount at Ascot, and the like good fortune attending his efforts at Goodwood, at the end of the year he left off with an addition to his bank account of £2,700. Extraordinary to relate, he was equally successful in the following year, but a change of fortune overtook him at last, and from being a swell of the first water, constantly in luck, always feasting on fat things, he gradually fell and fell till, in a few years, he was glad to earn a shilling or two at race meetings by acting as a peripatetic tipster. Many stories of a like kind are doubtless known to persons who are acquainted with the ever-changing incidents of our race meetings.

Apropos to betting for cash, one of the most singular utterances that has ever appeared against the "principle" of betting for ready money is that of Mr. William Day, published in one of the monthly miscellanies, and in which he describes that mode of betting as a "pernicious system," as "the greatest pest of society, the current evil of the day." Further, Mr. Day says the practice of ready money betting is "a blot on the nationality of every Englishman!" Unfortunately for himself, Mr. Day stultifies his own arguments against ready money betting by his advocacy of the Pari-mutuel plan of backing horses, which is a ready money system of betting _par excellence_, the adoption of which Mr. Day thinks would put a stop to reckless speculation, as, indeed, would ready money betting conducted through the medium of the bookmakers (who ought to be licensed).

The writer of these pages, as is obvious enough, is quite of the same opinion as Mr. Day, that "so long as a man can go into the ring and bet his untold thousands upon race after race, not having as many hundreds to pay his losses with, so long as he can find usurers to supply him with the needful to be paid on the Monday after, then so long, too, will he continue to bet, little caring what he pays for the convenience; as things are he is compelled to raise funds to save his credit and his respect among his aristocratic associates, but in the other case (of Pari-mutuel betting) there would not be such pressing necessity for him to have the money."

A very excellent reason was recently given for the adoption of a ready money system of betting by one of the "big bookmakers" of the day; it was pithily expressed to a gentleman who was complaining of the small odds now laid to bettors. "Look you," said the layer of the odds, "I have thirty-three per cent. of bad debts to contend with every season, and so have some of my friends. When we have ready money betting there will be no bad debts, and the odds will then extend by twenty or thirty per cent." An extension of the odds, say all backers of horses, is certainly much needed; of late years prices have been growing small by degrees and beautifully less.

FOOTNOTES:

[4] "Public Form," I regret to learn, died in the autumn of 1891, at his residence near Glasgow.

[5] This note and the preceding are abridged from a magazine sketch about "Public Form."

RACING ADVENTURERS.

It is not the writer's intention to venture on a full gallery of racing adventurers, but to present three or four portraits only by way of sample of the fifty or sixty which might be painted by the pen in black and white, and he has selected Messrs. Crockford, Gully, Ridsdale, Swindell, and Davis "the Leviathan" as being typical of the whole body.

DAVIS THE LEVIATHAN.

Among the racing adventurers who flourished sixty years since, the names of Davis, Crockford, Gully, and Ridsdale were prominent in turf affairs; these men and others like them were much trusted and betted to win or lose large amounts; "their mere word," as a certain noble baronet who did business with them said, "is better than other men's bonds." They paid sums of five, ten, or twenty thousand pounds when they lost them without the slightest hesitation, not infrequently indeed before they were due according to betting etiquette. Sixty years ago, racing adventurers began to come to the front and some of them soon acquired fortunes; several of the number who did so had not the wit, however, to keep the money they earned, and so fell back to their original condition. Such was the fate of Ridsdale, at one time racing partner with John Gully and a man of wealth. Crockford, as shall presently be narrated, began life as a fishmonger, and in the course of his career became a millionaire. In his young days Gully was a butcher and afterwards a professional pugilist; Davis again was a carpenter by trade, and flourished every day after becoming a betting man, the excitement of which career suited his temperament. Others of the bookmaking and betting fraternity had beginnings equally humble: some of them had been helpers in stables; one prominent man in turf affairs had driven a hackney coach; another had been footman at one time in a gentleman's family, but by the aid of turf chicanery became wealthy, and able himself in time to keep a couple of footmen. It is not possible within the limits of the present volume, to include more than three or four brief biographical sketches of the more prominent of the racing adventurers who have earned notoriety on the turf.

Davis, "the Leviathan," as he was called in racing circles, possessing a genius for the manipulation of figures, ultimately became one of the most successful bookmakers of his time, betting to thousands in the ring and to the silver or gold offered at his lists. As has been more than once related, the future "Leviathan's" first bet involved no greater risk than half-a-crown; but that sum, small as it was, turned out a prolific parent, he who risked it being found ten years later in the foremost ranks of the betting ring. Davis speedily discovered in his own case that "backing" horses, unless in exceptional instances, could never be profitable, no matter how generally fortunate he might be in selecting winners; he therefore speedily forsook that mode of betting and began "making a book," laying at first the odds to small money only to his fellow workmen. At the time indicated he was in the service of Cubitt & Co., the great builders, as a journeyman carpenter.

The "Leviathan's" plans received a fillip from the fact of his being engaged in the erection of the subscription rooms at Newmarket. Cubitt & Co., his employers, being contractors for the job, he had therefore congenial surroundings, which confirmed him in his resolve to make money by means of horse-racing. The chief meetings held at the turf metropolis took place while the rooms were being built, and as Davis had taken lodgings in the house of a stable helper, he was thus enabled to obtain more reliable information of the doings on Newmarket Heath than he might otherwise have been in a position to get. This enabled him to lay the odds and back horses with a greater certainty of winning both ways, a plan he adopted with considerable success. As he said to a friend, "when I got to know, which I often did, that a horse was not doing the right sort of work for a particular race, I tried all the more to lay the odds against it; on the other hand, I backed any horse that I was told was taking proper exercise. It is a fine thing for a small betting man as I was then to be able to handle the stick at both ends; by doing that I made a bit, and so was all ready when bigger chances came to hand to make the most of them."

When the job he was engaged on at Newmarket was finished, Davis came back to London with what he called a tidy pocketful of money, as much as fifty-seven pounds, the fruit of his economy and industry. Having thrown up his work at Cubitt's, he with the sum named began business as a bookmaker, and succeeded from the beginning. His first great hit was made on the "Two Thousand Guineas." Having obtained reliable information about the chance of Sir Tatton Sykes for the race in question, he backed that horse to win, taking care at the same time to lay against as many of the other horses engaged in the contest as his customers would back. The money he made on this occasion amounted to a considerable sum, the possession of which enabled him to extend his business and also to bet in bigger sums. Hitherto he had very rarely laid the odds to half-a-sovereign, but after Sir Tatton's victory he ventured to bet sovereigns, and by doing so increased his store not rapidly but steadily.

A friend of Davis' was wont to relate that it was in consequence of a dream he backed Sir Tatton. Falling asleep one Sunday afternoon, he fancied he was reading a newspaper, and that its tip for the Guineas, in large letters, was "Sir Tatton Sykes first"; that he read quite plain, but the names of the placed horses being blurred he could not make them out. Thinking little of his vision, he went about his work on Monday as usual, but, singularly enough, on Monday night the vision was repeated, with the words added, "this will come right." Davis was staggered by the circumstance, and being in possession of other information resolved to have "a bit extra" on, and so landed a good stake for his then position in the betting arena. Many curious dreams connected with horse-racing have from time to time been told, and the above story, now first related, may be added to the number.

Visiting, day by day, all the well-known sporting public-houses in London, picking up a little information here and making a few bets there, and always paying punctually when he lost, Davis speedily made a connection, and in a short time attracted a large number of customers. Being modest of manner and invariably civil, good fortune attended most of his efforts. Another feature in his favour was that he was liberal in offering odds, generally naming a point more than any of his competitors, so that he soon became "first favourite" among the betting men who were fond of backing their "fancy." Davis, in those days, betted for ready money only, and it was a maxim of his that "if you can lay all the horses, a point of additional odds is of no moment." "The horse which wins," he was wont to say, "brings you nothing, all the others do." In the beginning of his career, slow and sure was his motto; "ten pounds gained on each of five small races makes fifty." Passing on to a later period of his career, when his betting relations had extended to the patricians of the turf, Davis occasionally laid the odds to an almost incredible amount against all the horses entered in a race, and the greater favourite a horse became, the more willing was the "Leviathan" to bet against it; on many occasions the sums he stood to lose were really enormous in their amount.

Davis, like other bookmakers, had his fortunate and his unfortunate races. The Derby, for instance, was one of the latter class of events; he was never fortunate in transactions entered into in connection with that race. Upon the occasion of Voltigeur winning the Blue Ribbon he stood to lose nearly £40,000 on his list accounts, as well as having to meet many liabilities for large sums in the ring and at Tattersall's consequent on the victory of that horse. The non-success of Hotspur in the great Epsom event cost him, he was wont to say, £50,000, while the failure of Barbarian involved the disbursement of about a plum; and in the year which was sacred to the victory of Teddington he dropped a mint of money; one cheque alone written out and paid away on the morning after the race was filled up for three times "five thou" (£15,000). Again, the Derby victory of Daniel O'Rourke necessitated his parting with £30,000, whilst one of Davis' bets on West Australian was paid to Mr. Bowes, the owner of that horse, in the shape of a draft on the London and Westminster Bank for the full amount.

These big sums, however, were not all loss; he had the amounts he won over the other runners to aid him in paying them, and as was to be expected, he came every now and then into the possession of great gains; on one or two occasions he bagged £40,000 over a race; had that not been so, he would have been unable to battle with the wholesale losses he had sometimes to encounter. His business at one time was quite remarkable in its extent; often in the ring he was mobbed by people desirous of betting with him, from whom, on the days of popular races, he received hatfuls of money. No matter what race-meeting he might be attending, if the place where it was held was within a few hours' reach of London, he made it his business to return, to ascertain what was doing at his various lists, and to draw a cheque for the next day's settlement; punctual payment was with him a rule from which he never deviated.

As to the betting lists which were ultimately put down by the strong hand of Parliament, Davis was not, as many have supposed, the originator of them. They were "invented," if such a word may be used, by Messrs. Drummond and Greville, who took care to let it be known they kept a big balance at their bankers'. By the persistent display of "the lists" (which were exhibited by many licensed victuallers in their houses), betting, especially in London, extended among all classes, as at some of the lists as little as sixpence was accepted. For the benefit of those who do not know any better, it may be as well to explain here that a "list" was a written or printed document containing the names of the horses engaged in the particular race to be betted upon, with a price affixed against the chance possessed by each animal. Previous to the institution of the lists, the great body of the people were pretty well contented with a ticket in a Derby or some other sweepstake, of which a great number, at prices ranging from pence to pounds, were drawn in London and the provinces, but more especially in London, where there were then thousands organised, embracing most of the popular handicaps, as well as the classic races--so called.

It was calculated that at one time more than seven hundred lists were open in the great metropolis, most of them being "placed" in the public-houses of the period. Betting on horse-racing by means of lists became in time so popular and extensive as to attract the indignant attention of many people, who conceived it to be a cause of degradation and deep demoralisation. Lotteries of all kinds, big and little, had been effectually suppressed by the strong arm of the law, but list betting took the place of the lottery tickets with a vengeance.

The "Leviathan," although not himself the originator of the list system of betting, was not long in seeing--being a ready money system--that good fortune awaited that plan of turf speculation, and he accordingly commenced business at a public-house in Serle Street, in the Strand, known as the "Durham Arms," at which in the course of time so great a trade was done (in liquor) as to enable the landlady to retire from business within the course of two or three years. Davis was proprietor of two or three lists, as also the originator of three or four for which other persons ultimately became responsible. Publicans were well pleased to allow betting lists to be shown in their houses--it was a source of revenue to them, as few bets were made over which a pint or two of beer was not consumed, so that landlords "made money," as the saying goes, in the days of the lists, a list being an excellent advertisement for every house in which it was hung up. The chief centre of list betting was Long Acre, and in that street was to be found one of the "Leviathan's" lists, and so great was the business done, that not only was his own supervision necessary, but the aid of two or three clerks became essential. Other "list masters" carried on a roaring trade as well as Davis, but he was undoubtedly the leader in that feature of the betting business of his time; "punctual payment with a pleasant courtesy of words," was his motto, and that way of doing his work soon made him king of the list men. No man engaged in betting was ever more punctual in his payments than Davis. On various occasions when he had lost big sums to gentlemen, he did not delay his payments till the orthodox settling day, but would hand over a cheque for the amount he had lost immediately after the race had been decided.

As was to be expected in such a money-making avocation as list betting seemed to be, scores of the merest fortune hunters speedily entered into the business, many of whom were utterly dishonest scoundrels who pocketed all the money they could collect, and then on the decision of some important race on which they had received large deposits, closed their offices and were no more seen in their accustomed haunts.

Davis in time retired from business and lived for some years at Brighton, where he died, leaving a sum of about £150,000 behind him.

FREDERICK SWINDELL.

Had Mr. F. Swindell chosen to take pen in hand in order to narrate his experiences of racing, and to indite notices of the turf men with whom he had business or other relations, he might have produced a book of more than ordinary interest. Although six years have elapsed since the death of this "Napoleon of the turf," as he was called by some of his admirers, his memory is kept green in racing circles by frequent references to his achievements in connection with many of the turf transactions of his day. As Mr. Swindell had moved in sporting circles for a period of half a century, evidence of his sayings and doings is by no means scarce. In his time he had a finger in many pies, and as he left personal estate at the date of his death to the value of over £140,000, it may be taken for granted that the transactions he managed or took part in were somewhat profitable.

In his earlier days Mr. Swindell, as he used often enough to tell in his own racy way and in good honest "Lancashire lingo," experienced a good deal of rough weather. "It's a pretty bad case, lad, when thou wants a shilling and doesn't know where to look for it." Frederick Swindell was born in the town of Derby, and learned his father's craft of bell-hanging, by which he made a living for some time in Manchester, in which city he speedily acquired a taste for cock-fighting and other sports, particularly horse-racing, by which in after years he was destined to court fortune both as bookmaker and commissioner, and also as an owner of horses on his own account. It was chiefly in his early Manchester days that he came "through the hard," as he designated his then condition, and felt the lack of money so much; like many other turf adventurers in their beginning, he was poor one day and rich another; "just as luck fell, lad." On one occasion he became bankrupt over a cock-fight at Liverpool--so impoverished, in fact, as to be left without a coin to pay for either supper or bed, and with the certainty that no breakfast would await him in the morning; but next day he was rolling in what, in the circumstances, may be called riches. Having previously backed a horse to win him a hundred pounds--the animal was Charles XII., which, in winning the Liverpool Cup, won for Swindell the amount named--he enjoyed his first taste of fortune in what he then "thowt big money." A different fate befell him on one occasion at Newcastle-on-Tyne while looking on the race for the Northumberland Plate. For that race he had made two wrong moves which told heavily against his pocket; he laid to lose a good "bit of brass" over the horse that won, thinking it a "stiff one," and also backed one that, as it appeared in the sequel, had no pretensions to win; "and lads," he used to say, in telling the story, "a fellow that was on the winning nag and were standing at my back, smashed in my hat. Oh, it were cruel, but that chap had backed the winner."

In time, after experiencing many of the bitters, and also a few of the sweets that are incidental to the "great game," Swindell resolved to make London his place of residence; and having experienced a run of luck at one or two meetings, found himself in possession of as much money as enabled him to begin business as landlord of a West End public-house. It was situated near Mount Street, Grosvenor Square, and was a favourite resort of the gentlemen's servants of that aristocratic district of London. The business flourished exceedingly. Many of those who frequented the house were men endowed with sporting tastes, and most of them keen bettors. Swindell laid liberal odds to his customers, and as a few of them were in the service of gentlemen who owned a horse or two, the landlord not infrequently, by carefully noting the investments of these men, was able to do a remunerative stroke of business on his own account. On the occasion of the visit of a celebrated owner of blood stock to Newmarket to witness a trial for an important event, Swindell came to know the result from that gentleman's butler, who obtained particulars of the trial from the lady's-maid, who had read the letter sent to the gentleman's wife, giving full details of what the horse had accomplished.

Many similar circumstances occurred from time to time. The information just referred to was the means of Swindell adding nearly a thousand pounds to his bank account; the butler also made a satisfactory amount, while the lady's-maid was rewarded by having presented to her a valuable diamond and emerald ring. The reputation acquired by Swindell as a prompt payer speedily gained him the patronage of some of the West End betting tradesmen, and in time of the gentlemen whose servants he had hitherto done business with. Accurate accounts and punctual settlements helped to increase business, so that the bookmaker obtained permission to call at some of the clubs in order to do a little betting with "the swells," and to several of these gentlemen Swindell never hesitated to reveal any really good thing he knew; but not, of course, till he had served himself. This practice gained him many friends, and was the means of greatly improving his business by increasing his connection, one gentleman recommending him to another, and all who did business with him were pleased with his quiet, staid, respectful, but never servile manner. Mr. Swindell knew his place and kept it, which some of his contemporaries and many of his successors failed in doing.

With increasing experience of racing matters, and having a clear head, and being of sober habits, Mr. Swindell was not long in finding his services in demand as an adviser in some of the momentous turf affairs of the time. Crockford, with whom at times he used when he was making a book to cover his liabilities in the case of horses that he had overlaid, or backed one or two that he thought likely to win, gave him a word or two of recommendation, which resulted in his being occasionally employed to execute commissions on behalf of owners of horses who for good reasons did not wish to appear as backers of their own animals. Among the many who ultimately took him into their confidence were Mr. Merry, of Thormanby and Doncaster celebrity, and Sir Joseph Hawley. Success usually rewarded the efforts of Mr. Swindell when he undertook to carry through the kind of work which has been indicated. Having a very large connection among bookmakers, he was enabled to work the commissions he was entrusted with to the best advantage, and when the time came that those laying the odds became alarmed at being "had," he was able to obtain a choice of men to work for him, so that he could remain in the background and pull the strings quite as effectively as if he were acting openly in his own person.

This is how he "worked the oracle" when he was entrusted by an owner with a big job in the handicap line--and that was the line he liked best, as it was in that description of race there was most room to do such an amount of business as would result in the winning of a large sum of money. As soon as he knew the name of the horse and the race for which it was to be backed, he would enter into consultation with one or other of his bookmaking acquaintances in order to devise a plan of campaign. The arrangement usually made was that the more responsible country bookmakers, _i.e._, those in the larger provincial towns and cities, should be communicated with, and be asked to lay the odds against "so and so" to a specific amount and at a given price, or no limit might be given in the matter of price; but a particular hour was generally named at which the commission was desired to be executed by the bookmaker or other appointed agent, so that all the money required was usually obtained by this plan of doing the work. In the course of a day it would become known that a very heavy commission had been worked on behalf of "so and so," for the "such and such" handicap, and in consequence the odds against that horse would be quoted at a rapidly lessening figure, much to the chagrin of those who had laid the larger or longer rates of odds, and who, awakening to what had happened, were desirous themselves of backing the horse so as to lessen the sum they would require to pay in the event of its winning the race it had been backed for. Persons who are employed to do commissions get, as a matter of course, to know "the strength of them," and if they fancy the horse has a good chance they help themselves pretty liberally to a share of the money at the highest rate of odds.

Fortune seemed on occasion to play into the hands of Mr. Swindell as if no one else deserved a turn. He was the first to learn from Sir Joseph Hawley that Beadsman would be his best horse for the Derby, that colt having beaten Fitzroland, who had become a prime favourite for the Blue Ribbon from having won the Two Thousand Guineas. "Put me £1,000 on Beadsman at the best odds you can obtain," said Sir Joseph, and Swindell was able the next day to tell the lucky baronet that he had obtained £18,000 to the stake authorised. "All right," was the reply; "now help yourself, it is a good thing." And so it proved, as Beadsman, beating twenty-two competitors, won the Derby of 1858, and that horse was the sire of Blue Gown, which ten years later placed another big stake to the credit of the noble baronet.