Baron had nothing to carry him. His lordship, too, seemed disconcerted,
but it was only momentary; for walking up to the punch mare, and resting
his elbow on her hind quarter to try if she kicked, he very coolly
vaulted up behind Mr. Jorrocks. Now Jorrocks, though proud of the
patronage of a lord, did not exactly comprehend whether he was in
earnest or not, but the Baron soon let him know; for thrusting his
conical hat on his brow, he put his arm round Jorrocks's waist, and
gave the old mare a touch in the flank with the Chinese boot, crying
out--"Along me, brave _garçon_, along _ma cher_," and the owner of the
mare living at Kentford, she went off at a brisk trot in that direction,
while the Yorkshireman slipped down the town unperceived. The sherry had
done its business on them both; the Baron, and who, perhaps was the most
"cut" of the two, chaunted the _Marsellaise_ hymn of liberty with
as much freedom as though he were sitting in the saddle. Thus they
proceeded laughing and singing until the Bury pay-gate arrested their
progress, when it occurred to the steersman to ask if they were going
right. "Be this the vay to Newmarket races?" inquired Jorrocks of the
pike-keeper. The man dived into the small pocket of his white apron for
a ticket and very coolly replied, "Shell out, old 'un." "How much?" said
Jorrocks. "Tuppence," which having got, he said, "Now, then, you may
turn, for the heath be over yonder," pointing back, "at least it was
there this morning, I know." After a volley of abuse for his impudence,
Mr. Jorrocks, with some difficulty got the old mare pulled round, for
she had a deuced hard mouth of her own, and only a plain snaffle in it;
at last, however, with the aid of a boy to beat her with a furze-bush,
they got her set a-going again, and, retracing their steps, they trotted
"down street," rose the hill, and entered the spacious wide-extending
flat of Newmarket Heath. The races were going forward on one of the
distant courses, and a slight, insignificant, black streak, swelling
into a sort of oblong (for all the world like an overgrown tadpole),