Again, in recording the upward progress of horses in the betting
market, it would be ridiculous to say of all of them merely that they
became hot favourites. Vary, therefore, occasionally, by saying of
one, for example, that "here was another case of one being eventually
served up warm"; of another, that "plenty of the talent took 7 to 4
about _Mousetrap_;" of a third, that "_Paradox_ had the call at 4 to
1;" and of a fourth, that "a heap of money, and good money too, went
on _Backslide_." After these preliminary instructions, _Mr. Punch_
offers his

_Third Example_.--Event to be described: A horse-race. Names of horses
and jockeys, weights, &c., supplied.

Considerable delay took place. _Little Benjy_ made a complete hole
in his manners by bolting. Eventually, however, the flag tell to a
capital start. _Burglar Bill_ on the right cut out the work[1] from
_Paladin_, who soon began to blow great guns, and after a quarter of a
mile had been negotiated yielded his pride of place to _Cudlums_ with
_The P'liceman_ in attendance, _Sobriety_ lying fourth, and _D. T._
close behind. Thus they raced to the bend, where _Burglar Bill_ cried
_peccavi_, and _Cudlums_ having shot her bolt, _Sobriety_ was left in
front, only to be challenged by _Cropeared Sue_, who had been coming
through her horses with a wet sail. Bounding the bend SIMPSON called
upon _Mrs. Brady_ and literally took tea with her rivals,[2] whom he
nailed to the counter one after another. The favourite compounded at
the distance, and _Mrs. Brady_ romped home the easiest of winners,
four lengths ahead of _Cropeared Sue_; a bad third. The rest
were whipped in by _Flyaway_, who once more failed to justify the
appellation bestowed upon him.