'"
Two or three amusing scenes took place among those who wanted, and those
who had nothing to give, but yet were too honourable to _levant_: many
exhibited outward and visible signs of inward grief. A man of metal
dropped his last sovereign with a sigh, but chafed a little about
false reports of chaunting up a losing horse, doing the _thing neatly_,
keeping the secret, and other such like delicate innuendoes, which among
sporting men pass current, provided the losers pay promptly. Several,
who had gone beyond their depth, were recommended to the consideration
of the humane, in hopes that time might yet bring them about. We had
now passed more than two hours among the motley group, when Tom, having
exchanged the time o'day with most of his sporting friends, proposed an
adjournment to _Fishmongers' Hall_, or, as he prefaced it, with a visit
to the New Club in St. James's-street; to which resort of Greeks and
gudgeons we immediately proceeded.
[Illustration: page331]
We had just turned the corner of St. James's-street, and were preparing
to ascend the steps which lead to the New Club, as Crockford's
establishment is termed, when old Crony accosted me.
1 To all but betting men, this must appear impossible; but
management is every thing; and with a knowledge of the
secret, according to turf logic, it is one hundred to one
against calculation, and, by turf mathematics, five hundred
to one against any event coming right upon the square.
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