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 striking, and the grounds very beautiful. In Archer's time there were no stables here except those erected for his own horses; now they are capable of receiving some thirty or forty horses, principally owned by Mr. Blundell Maple and Mr. R. Peck. The stables run in a straight stretch, and are separated from a well-kept lawn in front by the whitest of white palings.

Mr. Matthew Dawson's stables, "St. Alban's House"—which are under the charge of Mr. Briggs—are probably the only ones of their kind in Newmarket. There is little or no yard attached, but the forty or fifty horses in training here can come to their doors and look out upon a luxuriant lawn, laid out with trees and shrubs. Mr. Dawson himself lives a little way out of Newmarket, at Melton House, Exning, an illustration of which we give, together with Lord Randolph Churchill's charming country residence, Banstead Manor at Cheveley, three miles away.

It was whilst walking along the road leading back to the town that we fell in with a youngster whose intelligent face prophesied that he might possibly throw some little light on the life of a stable boy. We had already been much impressed by the Newmarket stable youths. They are, so to speak, dotted about the High-street at every turn, and are, perhaps, as cute and smart as any lads in the land. Their very business leads them to assume an air of mystery which makes their individuality more marked, but we must frankly admit (and we questioned quite a number of them) that their dispositions are hearty and genial and brimming over with merriment. The head stable lad at one of the principal trainer's declared them to be "the best in the world." But let the lad who has just joined us speak for himself. His chat went a long way to prove that the happiness of these boys all rested on—a horse.

"Horses, sir, I love 'em. That's what made me leave home. Yer see, sir, if a chap once takes to a horse, it's no good either him doing anything else, or his father putting him to anything else. There's hundreds more like me. I left my home, just outside London, two and a half years ago. We generally enter the stables about fourteen, and are apprenticed for five years. By that time you can generally tell what you are likely to be fit for. But there's a lot o' failures in our profession. We don't all turn out to be crack jocks. I've heard our head lad say as how stable lads are to be found every part of the world. We are early risers—five sharp in the summer. Each boy has his own horse to groom and exercise, and we looks after them as careful as though they was our own. You see, supposing that horse should win. Well, I might drop in for a fiver. Healthy!