The old fox and Harry Hill!  The two characters at Tattersall’s in those days can never be forgotten, by those who knew them.

It may seem strange in these more enlightened days that at that time I was under the impression that no one could make a bet unless he had the means of paying if he lost.  This statement will provoke a smile, but it is true.  The consequence was that I was debarred from speculating where I thought I had a most excellent chance of winning, having been brought up to believe that the world was almost destitute of fraud—­a strange and almost unaccountable idea which only time and experience proved to be erroneous.  Judge of the vast unexplored field of discovery that lay before me!  Harry Hill was better informed.  He had lived longer, and had been brought in contact with the cleverest men of the age.  He knew at a glance the adventurous fool who staked his last chance when the odds were a hundred to one, and also the man of honour who staked his life on his honesty—­and sometimes lost!

There were “blacklegs” in those days who looked out for such honest gentlemen, and won—­scoundrels who degrade sport, and trade successfully on the reputations of men of honour.  You cannot cope with these; honesty cannot compete with fraud either in sport or trade.

It was a very brief Sunday sermon which Harry preached to me this afternoon, but it was an effective one, and out of the abundance of his good nature he gave me these well-remembered words of friendly warning,—­

“Mr. Hawkins, I see you come here pretty regularly on Sunday afternoons; but I advise you not to speculate amongst us, for if you do we shall beat you.  We know our business better than you do, and you’ll get nothing out of us any more than we should get out of you if we were to dabble in your law, for you know that business better than we do.”

This disinterested advice I took to heart, and treated it as a warning.  I thanked Mr. Hill, promised to take advantage of his kindness, and kept my word during the whole time that Tattersall’s remained in the old locality, which it did for a considerable period.

The establishment at this time was at Hyde Park Corner, and had been rented from Lord Grosvenor since 1766.  It was used for the purpose of selling thoroughbreds and other horses of a first-rate order, until the expiration of the lease, which was, I think, in 1865.  It was then removed to Knightsbridge, where I still continued my visits.

The new premises, or, as it might be called, the new institution, was inaugurated with a grand dinner, chiefly attended by members of the sporting world, including Admiral Rous, George Payne, and many other well-known and popular patrons of our national sport.  There were also a great many who were known as “swells,” people who took a lively interest in racing affairs, and others who belonged to the literary and artistic world, and enjoyed the national sports as well.  It was a large assembly, and if any persons can enjoy a good dinner and lively conversation, it is those who take an interest in sport.  Mixed as the company might be, it was uniform in its object, which was to be happy as well as jolly.