cock and a jockey on horseback. The house—where the trainer lives—looks on to the yard, and is covered with ivy. The whole scene is a picture, and more so now, for the gravel path has been strewn with straw, and the lads are riding round in a circle, as a little preliminary to going on to the Heath.
Banstead Manor, Lord Randolph Churchill's house.
Baron Rothschild's house is exactly opposite. It is a great square building, the bricks of which are almost entirely hidden from view by the ivy which runs round every window. It stands on the site of the old palace, as does also the Congregational Church and schoolroom in the immediate vicinity. Just here, too, another bit of old Newmarket maybe met with. Westley's yard constitutes the site of a half-dozen old-time abodes, with the roof casements of long ago. The residents of Westley's yard may point to their pump with pride. It supplies them with good spring water, and is one of the few reminders of bygone days.
Certainly not the least interesting house we visited was that of Mr. John Dawson, Sen., who trains principally for Sir R. Jardine. "Warren House" training establishment is situated at one corner of the Heath—already referred to as being in close proximity to the station. An hour or two spent here did much to show exactly how the work of a training establishment is carried on. Previous to going through the stables, however, a pretty little incident occurred, which should find a place in these pages. We were standing for a moment beneath the porch of the house, where great bunches of sea-weed hung, those useful marine prophets of the movements of Clerk of the Weather. Immediately the door was opened a bright little girl of some six summers, in a pretty plaid dress and frilled white pinafore, came bounding down the stairs. It was little Nellie Rose Archer. Now little Miss Nellie has a pet donkey, with the simple and easily remembered name of Billy. Every morning, should the seaweed in the porch so decree, Miss Nellie has her pet harnessed to the prettiest of diminutive wagonettes, and taking the reins, goes for her morning drive.
Billy, be it known, is a racer. A short time ago some local sports were taking place in Newmarket, in which there was a race confined exclusively to donkeys. What more natural than that Billy should be entered? Billy was entered, and, what is more, won the prize. Great were the efforts brought to bear upon little Miss Nellie to allow her pet to run in another race; but no, the six-year-old mistress was immovable. And why? Well, we heard a part of this story from the child's own lips, and when we put this question to her the reply was:—
"Because I wanted Billy to have an unbeaten record!"
Our picture of little Miss Archer (page 170), for which she specially had the not-to-be-beaten Billy harnessed, was expressly taken for this magazine.
The stables at Warren House are admirably built in white brick, and are of effective design. Something like thirty-six horses could be stabled here at one time. Passing down the stables, painted buff and white, some of the boys we observe plaiting the straw which makes a neat and trim edging for the stalls, whilst others are grooming
