Running Recollections and How to Train

CHAPTER XV. THE NEWCASTLE SWEEPSTAKES. IT was a small, but jovial party, that returned to Edinburgh from Bolton. Many witticisms were made, and the company were not particular whether thejokes were old or new, good or bad, biit laughed at each fresh sally. A soldier on furlough enteredour compartment at Preston, and from him, amid shrieks oflaughter, I purchased asmall fox • terrier; at least, he said it was a fox-terrier, and I took his word for it. At Preston, the unlucky beast was christened (with beer) " Edgar Chichester," the Bolton Wanderer.This euphonious title was shortened to Jack eventually. Jack was not a success. Ho possessed a pair of front legs which forcibly reminded one of those of a Chippendale table, wherein he differed greatly from his illustrious name­ sake. I tried very hard to keep in training after my race with Bredin, and for three daysstuck in like a veritable Trojan. In reality, however, f was sick of training, so, as the poet has it, I gave it up, and proceeded to enjoy myself. My chances for the Newcastle Sweepstakes, which came off ten days after theBredin match, were by no means enhanced by my methods of enjoyment, in fact, when I ran a trial two days before the sweepstakes, I could only do two-and-a- half yards worse than evens, otherwise knownas " quarter second." I was so disgusted with myself, that T determined to run another trial. I did so aftera quarter-of-an-hour's rest. This time I ran half-a-yard slower. I went to a dinner that evening, thereafter spent an hour at a theatre, and E