and the “some one” is the senseless amateur who takes his ideas from newspapers.  The amateur of the tap-room or the club looks down a list of horses and chooses one which he fancies; perhaps he has received private advice from one of the beings who haunt the training-grounds and watch the thoroughbreds at exercise; perhaps he is influenced by some enthusiast who bids him risk all he has on certain private information.  The fly enters the den and asks the spider, “What price Flora?”—­that means, “What odds are you prepared to lay against the mare named Flora?” The spider answers—­say seven to one; the fly hands one pound to the spider, and the bet is made.  The peculiarity of this transaction is that one of the parties to it is always careful to arrange so that he cannot lose.  Supposing that there are seven horses entered in a race, it is certain that six must be losers.  The bookmaker so makes his wagers that no matter which of the seven wins he at least loses nothing; the miserable amateur has only one chance.  He may possibly be lucky; but the chances in the long run are dead against him, for he is quite at the mercy of the sharp capitalist who bets with him.  The money which the rowdies of the Ring spend so lavishly all comes from the pockets of dupes who persist in pursuing a kind of ignis fatuus which too often leads them into a bog of ruin.

This deplorable business of wagering has become universal.  We talk of the Italians as a gambling nation, but they are not to be compared with the English for recklessness and purblind persistence.  I know almost every town in England, and I say without fear that the main topic of conversation in every place of entertainment where the traveller stays is betting.  A tourist must of course make for hotel after hotel where the natives of each place congregate; and, if he keeps his ears open, he will find the gambling venom has tainted the life-blood of the people in every town from Berwick to Hastings.  It may be asked, “How do these silly creatures who bet manage to obtain any idea of a horse?” They have not the faintest notion of what any given horse is like, but they usually follow the advice of some sharper who pretends to know what is going to win.  There are some hundreds of persons who carry on a kind of secret trade in information, and these persons profess their ability to enable any one to win a fortune.  The dupes write for advice, enclosing a fee, and they receive the name of a horse; then they risk their money, and so the shocking game goes on.

I receive only too many letters from wives, mothers, and sisters whose loved ones are being drawn into the vortex of destruction.  Let me give some rough colloquial advice to the gamblers—­“You bet on horses according to the advice of men who watch them.  Observe how foolish you are!  The horse A is trained in Yorkshire; the horse B at Newmarket.  The man who watches A thinks that the animal can gallop very fast, and you risk your money according to his