Mr.William was very eager about the Six Year Old Plate at Huntingdon.

"Have you brought any news of it, Parson ?" "The odds are five to four on Brilliant against the field," says the parson, gravely, "but, mind you, Jason is a good horse." "Whose horse ?" asks my lord.
"Duke of Ancaster's.

By Cartouche out of Miss Langley," says the divine.
"Have you horse-races in Virginia, Mr.Warrington ?" "Haven't we!" cries Harry; "but oh! I long to see a good English race!" "Do you--do you--bet a little ?" continues his reverence.
"I have done such a thing," replies Harry with a smile.
"I'll take Brilliant even against the field, for ponies with you, cousin!" shouts out Mr.William.
"I'll give or take three to one against Jason!" says the clergyman.
"I don't bet on horses I don't know," said Harry, wondering to hear the chaplain now, and remembering his sermon half an hour before.
"Hadn't you better write home, and ask your mother ?" says Mr.William, with a sneer.
"Will, Will!" calls out my lord, "our cousin Warrington is free to bet, or not, as he likes.

Have a care how you venture on either of them, Harry Warrington.

Will is an old file, in spite of his smooth face, and as for Parson Sampson, I defy our ghostly enemy to get the better of him." "Him and all his works, my lord!" said Mr.Sampson, with a bow.
Harry was highly indignant at this allusion to his mother.