Old Friends [15]
and it is fortunate indeed that I had made the copy of the ballad for you. But the volume of Coquillart is alive to testify to the authenticity of the poem; which, after all, is needless evidence, as not even Ritson could suspect of either the skill or the malice of such a forgery, Yours most faithfully,
ROBERT SURTEES.
LETTER: From Nicholas to the Editor of the St. James's Gazette,
It is only too probable that a later generation has forgotten "Nicholas," the sporting Prophet of "Fun," in the reign of Mr. Hood the younger. The little work, "Nicholas's Notes," in which Mr. W. J. Prowse collected the papers of the old Prophet, is, indeed, not an "edition de looks," as the aged Seer says, with his simple humour. From the Paradise of Fiction, however (and the Paradise of Touts), Nicholas has communicated, perhaps to the Psychical Society, the following Epistle. His friendly mention of a brother journalist speaks well for the Old Man's head and heart.
The Paradise of Fiction, Feb. 9, 1888.
Sir,--My dear young friend, it is ten to one, and no takers, that the public, than whom, between you and me, I do not think much of them, have forgotten Nicholas, or even never heard of the Prophet. Youth will be served; and it is now between twenty years since he left off vaticinating in "Fun," during young Mr. Hood's time, of future sportive events for to come, and came to live HERE with the other celebrated characters of Fiction, than whom I am sure a more mixed lot, though perhaps a little gay. It having come to the Prophet's knowledge that some of them was writing letters to "The St. James's Gazette" (than which I am sure none more respectable, though perhaps a little not quite so attentive to sportive interests as it might be), he have decided that Nicholas will take up his pen once more, as of old.
The State of the Turf, my dear young friend, since an old but still handsome bird would freely alight (when not warned off) on Newmarket Heath, have caused Nicholas some anxiety. Sir, between you and me, IT IS RAPIDLY GETTING NO BETTER. Here is Lord -- (than whom a more sterling sportsman) as good as saying to Sir -- (than whom, perhaps), "Did you ever hear of a sporting character called Swindells?" And the Prophet HAVE been told that it may furnish matter for the gentlemen of the long robe--which, in my time, many of them was backers of horses.
And all along of what? Why, of the "inexplicable in-and-out running of horses," as the "Standard" says, and as will often happen, you, perhaps, having a likely dark one as you want to get light into a high-class autumn handicap. The days is long past since Nicholas was nuts on the game little Lecturer, but still has the interests of the Turf at heart; and, my dear young friend, if horses never ran in and out, where would be "the glorious uncertainty of the sport"? On the whole, then, if asked my opinion on this affair, the Prophet would say--putting it ambiguous-like-- "Gentlemen, when there's so much dirty linen to wash, can't you remember that we're all pretty much tarred with the same brush?" A great politician--which a lot of his family is here, Coningsby, and the Young Duke, and many other sportsmen--used to say as what the Turf was "a gigantic engine of national demoralisation;" which Nicholas is not quite sure but what he was right for him, though his language on rather a large scale. Horses running in and out is inexplicable! Why, gents all, which of us WOULDN'T do it, if he had the chance to put the pot on handsome, human nature being what it is, especially considering the lowness of the market odds as you have often and often to be content with. In short, the more you stir it the more it won't exactly remind you of gales from Araby the Blest; than which a more delightful country, only not to be found on any atlas as Nicholas ever cast a glance at the map, however large.
But enough of a subject than which perhaps one more painful to me; the Prophet having often and often, in early days, been warned off Newmarket Heath himself, and called a
ROBERT SURTEES.
LETTER: From Nicholas to the Editor of the St. James's Gazette,
It is only too probable that a later generation has forgotten "Nicholas," the sporting Prophet of "Fun," in the reign of Mr. Hood the younger. The little work, "Nicholas's Notes," in which Mr. W. J. Prowse collected the papers of the old Prophet, is, indeed, not an "edition de looks," as the aged Seer says, with his simple humour. From the Paradise of Fiction, however (and the Paradise of Touts), Nicholas has communicated, perhaps to the Psychical Society, the following Epistle. His friendly mention of a brother journalist speaks well for the Old Man's head and heart.
The Paradise of Fiction, Feb. 9, 1888.
Sir,--My dear young friend, it is ten to one, and no takers, that the public, than whom, between you and me, I do not think much of them, have forgotten Nicholas, or even never heard of the Prophet. Youth will be served; and it is now between twenty years since he left off vaticinating in "Fun," during young Mr. Hood's time, of future sportive events for to come, and came to live HERE with the other celebrated characters of Fiction, than whom I am sure a more mixed lot, though perhaps a little gay. It having come to the Prophet's knowledge that some of them was writing letters to "The St. James's Gazette" (than which I am sure none more respectable, though perhaps a little not quite so attentive to sportive interests as it might be), he have decided that Nicholas will take up his pen once more, as of old.
The State of the Turf, my dear young friend, since an old but still handsome bird would freely alight (when not warned off) on Newmarket Heath, have caused Nicholas some anxiety. Sir, between you and me, IT IS RAPIDLY GETTING NO BETTER. Here is Lord -- (than whom a more sterling sportsman) as good as saying to Sir -- (than whom, perhaps), "Did you ever hear of a sporting character called Swindells?" And the Prophet HAVE been told that it may furnish matter for the gentlemen of the long robe--which, in my time, many of them was backers of horses.
And all along of what? Why, of the "inexplicable in-and-out running of horses," as the "Standard" says, and as will often happen, you, perhaps, having a likely dark one as you want to get light into a high-class autumn handicap. The days is long past since Nicholas was nuts on the game little Lecturer, but still has the interests of the Turf at heart; and, my dear young friend, if horses never ran in and out, where would be "the glorious uncertainty of the sport"? On the whole, then, if asked my opinion on this affair, the Prophet would say--putting it ambiguous-like-- "Gentlemen, when there's so much dirty linen to wash, can't you remember that we're all pretty much tarred with the same brush?" A great politician--which a lot of his family is here, Coningsby, and the Young Duke, and many other sportsmen--used to say as what the Turf was "a gigantic engine of national demoralisation;" which Nicholas is not quite sure but what he was right for him, though his language on rather a large scale. Horses running in and out is inexplicable! Why, gents all, which of us WOULDN'T do it, if he had the chance to put the pot on handsome, human nature being what it is, especially considering the lowness of the market odds as you have often and often to be content with. In short, the more you stir it the more it won't exactly remind you of gales from Araby the Blest; than which a more delightful country, only not to be found on any atlas as Nicholas ever cast a glance at the map, however large.
But enough of a subject than which perhaps one more painful to me; the Prophet having often and often, in early days, been warned off Newmarket Heath himself, and called a