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some to persuade you this is true. But don't believe it. That any gentleman, in my day, ever put himself into the powcr of these blacklegs by selling matches, I can't credit. Still, one day I thought I would try how far these tales were true. So, going down into Kent with 'one of high degree', he said to me, 'Will if this match is won, I lose a hundred pounds'. 'Well', said I my Lord, you and I could order that'. He smiled as if nothing were meant, and talked of something else; and, as luck would have it, he and I were in together, and brought up the score between us, though every run seemed to me like 'a guinea out of his Lordship's pocket.'

In those days foot races were very common. Lord Frederick and Mr. Budd were first-rate runners, and bets were freely laid. So, one day, old Fennex laid a trap for the gentlemen: he brought up to act the part of some silly conceited youngster, with his pockets full of money, a first-rate runner out of Hartfordshire. This soft young gentleman ran a match or two with some known third-rate men, and seemed to win by a neck, and no space to spare. Then he calls out, 'I'll run any man on the ground for 25l., money down.' A match was quickly made, and money laid on pretty thick on Fennex's account. Some said, 'Too bad to win of such a green young fellow'; others said, 'He's old enough—serve him right.' So the laugh was finely against those who were taken in; 'the green one' ran away like a hare!

'You see, sir', said one fine old man, with brilliant eye and quickness of movement, that showed his right hand had not yet forgot its cunning, 'matches were bought, and matches were sold, and gentlemen who meant honestly lost large sums of money, till the rogues beat