fellow, who, I saw, was proud of his poney.

"'I'd like to see his match, that's all.' Here he gave a rather
contemptuous glance at my hack.

"Well, one word led to another, and it ended at last in our booking a
match, with which one party was no less pleased than the other. It was
this: each was to ride his own horse, starting from the school in the
Park, round the Fifteen Acres, outside the Monument, and back to the
start--just one heat, about a mile and a half--the ground good, and only
soft enough. In consideration, however, of his greater weight, I was to
give odds in the start; and as we could not well agree on how much, it
was at length decided that he was to get away first, and I to follow as
fast as I could, after drinking a pewter quart full of Guinness's double
stout--droll odds, you'll say, but it was the old fellow's own thought,
and as the match was a soft one, I let him have his way.

"The next morning the Phoenix was crowded as if for a review. There were
all the Dublin notorieties, swarming in barouches, and tilburies, and
outside jaunting-cars--smart clerks in the post-office, mounted upon
kicking devils from Dycer's and Lalouette's stables--attorney's wives
and daughters from York-street, and a stray doctor or so on a hack that
looked as if it had been lectured on for the six winter months at the
College of Surgeons. My antagonist was half an hour late, which time I
occupied in booking bets on every side of me--offering odds of ten,
fifteen, and at last, to tempt the people, twenty-five to one against the
dun. At last, the fat gentleman came up on a jaunting-car, followed by a
groom leading the cob. I wish you heard the cheer that greeted him on
his arrival, for it appeared he was a well-known character in town, and
much in favour with the mob. When he got off the car, he bundled into a