Those who ran the tilt that day
With Death, and bore their lives away
From the Balaclava Charge!
Out we came at last, a fairish field to look at, men and horses, though I say it. I should premise that the leaps were composed of two-railed fences, brushed underneath, about fifteen in all, from four feet to four feet six in height, and sufficiently stiff, as the event proved.
On the upper or eastern side of the course, where shade was procurable, were entrenched the carriages and non-combatants, among whom Mr. Redmond Barry, Mr. Leslie Foster, William Anderson, "Count" Ogilby, and other disengaged cavaliers, who did their devoir in entertaining the ladies and judiciously criticising the field. Jimmy Ellis, friend and pastoral partner of one William Stawell, a brisk, black-bearded, hard-riding little Milesian, was starter and clerk of the course. Here we came up for the last time, more or less soberly or skittishly, to the post, with cords and tops, silk jackets and caps, "accoutred proper," full jockey costume being de rigueur. A correct card of the race would probably have read as follows. The colours of the riders may have partially faded out of memory's ken, inasmuch as "it was many and many a year ago."
- Mr. Molesworth Greene's grey horse "Trifle," four years, pink and white—ridden by owner.
- Mr. Stawell's "Master of the Rolls," aged chestnut, scarlet and black—owner.
- Mr. E. M'Neill's bay horse "Thur'mpogue," blue and silver—owner.
- Mr. Acland Anderson's bay horse "Spider," ridden by Mr. Rawdon Greene—crimson and gold.
