ROBERT RIDSDALE. (Licensed Victuallers' Gazette.)

The annals of the turf would be about the last records in which the outside public would expect to discover romances, its votaries being usually considered to be the most sordidly matter-of-fact of mankind. Well, we do not pretend that racing men are a sentimental or an imaginative body ; but, to use a metaphysical term, if they are not subjectively romantic they are objectively so; for rises so startlingly sudden, falls so utter and overwhelming, such strange vicissitudes of fortune and extraordinary chances, that are of constant occurrence in their lives, would tax the credulity of the most omnivorous novel reader, as let the following story testify. Somewhere about 60 or 70 years ago, among the lads in a certain livery stable at York was one known as Bob Ridsdale. His good looks and intelligence presently attracted the attention of Mr Lambton, afterwards Earl of Durham, and he took him into his service. Mr Lambton was a well-known Turfite, and whilo in his employ Robert got acquainted with the principal jockeys and trainers of the North, saw a good deal of racing life, and thought he could do better by following it on his own account than by following it on hie master's. He began as one of those "pickers up of unconsidered trifles " that hang upon the skirts of the betting ring, but being a quick-witted fellow, who always knew a good thing when it came in his way— a rarer species of knowledge than most people think — as well as how to make the best of it, he was very soon able to raise himself out of the ranks of the loafers, and to obtain commissions from men of substance, And now bdhold our stable boy, groom, punter, adventurer, with a very nice little establishment at Newmarket, a cosy house, a good bottle of wine in his cellar, and a neat turn out, the agent of such leaders of sport as Mr Petre, famous as the winner of three consecutive St. Legera. Robert Ridsdale soon gained that reputation most invaluable to a bookmaker, that of being always punctual in his payments, no matter what his losses might have been. Not that he was more scrupulous than his fellows as to the means he empldyed in making a grand success. As early as 1824 we find him a principal agent in a rather noted turf scandal. In that year, a horse named Jerry, the property of Mr Gascoigne, started as first favourite for the St. Leger, and for a time held his position undisputed; but all of a sudden he went back in the betting, and the " Ring " began persistently to lay against him. Neither his owner nor Crofts, his trainer, could discover any cause for this change ; the horse was as well as ever, and was certainly superior to any that would oppose him. There was

mischief brewing somewhere, but not the slightest inkling could be gained as to the quarter it might be expected from. A few days before the race came off, as Crofts was taking a walk one evening out of the town, he stopped to speak with the man at the turnpike, and while standing at the gate a chaise drove up. Drawing back into the porch of the house, he saw by the light of the lamps that the occupants of the vehicle were " Tiny " Edwardes, very drunk, and Bobert Eidsdale. As Edwardes was to ride Jerry he understood it all. Without mentioning his discovery to anyone, he made a secret arrangement with Benjamin Smith, and on the morning of the race, just as Edwardes was - preparing for duty, Smith quietly took his place. The consternation of the Ring was awful to behold ; the odds turned in a moment; the betting was all for Jerry, who fully justified his backers by carrying off the Great Northern prize from 22 competitors. Ridsdale was probably only the agent of some very big pots of the racing world who were implicated in this knavery. About this time another self-made man, who, by the help of indomitable energy, immense mental and physical capacity, and an iron constitution had raised himself from the lowest rung of the social ladder to a very promising height, was rapidly becoming one of the dictators of the sporting world. We allude to John Gully. He had long since retired from the P.R., had given up the public-house for the betting-book, and proved so successful in the latter line, that in 1827 he could give Lord Jersey 4000 guineas for Mameluke, the Derby winner of that year. It was not a fortunate speculation, however. He had backed her heavily for the Doncaster, which she would have easily won had it not been for foul play, and he dropped something like £45,000 as the result. Even at this period the Bristol hero's back must have been pretty strong to stand such a blow. To a man engaged in transactions so extensive as Gully undertook, a partner or confederate was almost indispensable, and he could not have found one more suitable than shrewd, cunning Bob Ridsdale, who, like himself, had risen from the ranks of the people, and with whom he had been already associated on several occasions. It was about 1829 or 1830 that the partnership commenced. The first little scheme the firm went in for did not prove successful. It was no less than trying to bring Priam to grief for the Derby by means of Little Red Rover; but the Chifneys'magnificentnamesake of the' Trojan King was not to be got at, and of the £80,000 which they stood to win on the chance the partners never touched a penny. On other events they were more fortunate, and made piles of mpney, while the Derby of 1832 was a veritable El Dorado to them. The winner of that year, as all learned in turf history know, was St. Giles, the property of Mr Robert Ridsdale. If ever the secret history of Epsom victors should bo written, Giles will certainly hold a prominent^lace therein. As a two-year-old he had not been allowed in any way to distinguish himself, in order to obtain as long a price as possible for the Derby, which it was a foregone conclusion he should win. There were 22 starters ; of these Ridsdale's St. Giles and Trustee came in first and third, and Gully's Margrave, which could have won but was destined as a coup for the St. Leger, was fourth ; of the remaining 19 it is confidently asserted that not one tried to win, though there were half a dozen horses among them that had an excellent chance. It cost the confederates £25,000 to square trainers, jockeys, and others, but they made £100,000 by the event of which £40,000 fell to Ridsdale. Nor was this the whole of the scandal, for there seems to be little doubt that St. Giles was a four-year-old. An objection was started against him, not on account of age, that w#s never mentioned, but wrongful description. The case was referred to three gentlemen, who after, it may be presumed, a mature consideration, gave the decision in favour of the owner. Robert Ridsdale, who hadjmce touched his hat for twopence, was now a man of wealth and position ; but considering his origin and sudden rise from poverty to affluence, he had wonderful good taste, tact, and sense of propriety. He did not, like his partner Gully, launch out into a manorial estate; his residence at Merton, without being pretentious, was the beau ideal of \ sporting yeoman's abode, it was small, but exquisitely furnished ; it was replete with handsome red-brick out-houses, white gates, enclosed fold- yards, double fences, while cleanliness and order everywhere reigned supreme. At one time he had as many as a hundred head of blood stock, besides hunters and farm horses, on his estate. He himself has been described as a cross between a dashing Dick Turpin and a blunt Squire Western, but there was, at the same time, something of refinement about him that Ms partner could never boast of. Ridsdale's aspirations rose above mere money-makin°" • while in Mr Lambton's service he picked up a good deal more than a knowledge of the game of 2to 1 ; he was an observer of dress, manners, deportment, all of which observations he turned to good account when the time came. No more striking contrast than that presented by the two partners when standing cheek by jowl on a grand stand could be imagined. Gully, although never rough, dressed carelessly, a very open waistcoat and a frock coat, the lappels of which were thrown carelessly back, frequently displayed a diamond-studded shirt somewhat crumpled, while his not too scrupulously brushed hat was set on the back of his head to fully expose a closely shaven face, which, though not pugilistic in type, was far from aristocratic ; but from top to toe, from his brilliantly polishec boots to his mirror-like hat Ridsdale was faultless; there was just that characteristic of the sporting man in the cut of his olothes such as a duke might affect, but nothing more. As a host he was equally the man of fashion, he gave the most recherche dinners at his rooms at Newmarket to the best company. " The table of poor Bobby," says a sporting writer, "was not surpassed by that either of an archbishop or a high sheriff. At Merton, if you dined and spent the night, you were slways treated as if nothing could be too good for you. Claret from Griffith's, with a bouquet like a bed of violets, you might swim in it if- you chose, or drown if you preferred it. Your comfortable ' loose box/ with a tidy lad in dress stable suit to attend on you, was at your service when you wished it, and. not an

instant before. The magazines and daily papers were strewn about the sofas and easy chairs, whilst the chaste and massive plate, picked up with exquisite taste, regardless of cost, together with the paintings of racing scenes by Herring on the wallsj made the cottage at Merton elegant and comfortable in the extreme. But it would have needed a Sfc. Giles every three or four years to have kept his expenses under, for his regular goings-out were at the rate of £10,000 a year at least." Margrave, who had "been so admirably manipulated at the odds of 8 to 1, took the St. Leger ofi f832, and proved another magnificent coup for the partners, who won about £90,000 over it. But a quarrel arose out of the division of the spoil, which brought their short-lived confederacy to an end. Ridsdale averred that Gully had taken £12,000 more than he accounted for. One day they had a row in the huntingfield, and the ex-pugilist made a savage attack on his accuser with his whip. Ridsdale brought an action for assault, and the case was tried at York. Being a great favomite in the neighbourhood all the sympathy went with him, and when the jury recorded a verdict for the plaintiff, with £500 damages, the hunting -men who crowded the court gave a hearty view-halloo, in which it was even satirically said that judge and counsel joined. After his severance from Gully, Robert Ridsdale's good luck seemed to desert him ; his speculations proved unfortunate, and the climax was reached when Queen of Trumps won the Sfc. Leger of 1835, for Ridsdale had an enormous stake on Hornsea, and, as it proved, larger than he could pay. Had he appealed to his friends they would have stood by him and tided him over the difficulty ; but he was intensely proud, and would not stoop to ask a favour of any one. Yet, in spite of his crooked dealings, there must have been something noble in the man when he sent his house, his farm, his sfcock, everything he possessed, to the hammer to meet his liabilities. By this sacrifice he was able to pay a very handsome dividend to his creditors. Still sullenly rejecting all help, Ridsdale left Yorkshire, and, homeless and poverty-stricken, buried himself in some obscure suburb of London. The once hearty, genial, roystering host of Merton now became a gloomy repellant misanthrope, who shunned all his former associations, and would scarcely respond to the hail of an old acquaintance who came suddenly upon him in the street.

Fortune, however, had not wholly deserted her former favourite, and by one of those strange flukes which set all the cleverest calculations at defiance, once more rehabilitated him. When the Merton stock was sold off there was among tho rest a mean-looking foal that no one would look at or make any bid for. William Ridsdale took charge of this for his brother, and very soon took such a fancy to the horse that he entered it for the Derby of 1&39, at which, under the name of Bloomsbury, this once poor little despised outcast carried off the great stakes of the year; but not without some ugly rumours and an attempt to deprive him of the honour. Bloomsbury was a dark horse, his first appearance in public was on Epsom Downs, and it was said that he was not the foal that was entered, but another a year older. As in the case of St. Giles, however, when the inquiry was instituted it was only for wrongful description, and this was over-ruled by the stewards. Not satisfied with the decision, "Fuller" Craven, the owner of the second horse, boldly claimed the stakes. # The stewards, however, stuck to their original judgment. Once more in feather, Robert Ridsdale again went the pace, and while it lasted spent his money as freely as ever; bub Bloomsburys do not come to a man every year, and from that time fortune persistent^ et her face against him. Whatever lie backed failed, whatever he laid against won. Season after season he fell lower and lower, till the once-powerful owner and bookmaker, who could control the fortunes of a Derby.sank to the most miserable punting. Yet, unlike most fallen men, he kept his pride to the last ; it was he who gave the cold shoulder to old friends, saving them perhaps the trouble of offering that unsavoury joint to him. At length he disappeared, and no one knew what had become of him ; not that his disappearance excited much attention, for a new generation of sporting men was springing up to whom the shabby, sullen-looking punter was occasionally pointed out as a past celebrity— a sort of extinct volcano— but exciting no more interest than such debris of past times usually do in the present. One cold November morning, when Newmarket Heath was covered with a thin layer of snow and the grey dawn was just forcing its way through the pall of black clouds that ; threatened more, a stable lad, upon going into a loft over Ms master's stable to get some hay, found a man huddled among the trusses, * apparently fast asleep. •• Hullo, master, what are you doing here ? " cried the lad, pushing him with his foot; but the intruder made no sign or movement, and the rays of the lantern the boy carried in his hand fell upon a miserable, attenuated figure, whose raiment hung about it in foul ra»s, and upon a cadaverous pinched face half -hidden by bristly beard and unkempt hair. Some poor wretch who had crept in for shelter from the inclement night, he thought. But there was something about the parted lips and half-opened glassy eyes that struck tha boy with terror, and he ran down the ladder and went in search of assistance, Then it was discoverftd that the poor vagrant was quite dead. " Why, if it isn't Bob Ridsdale 1 " cried an old hand as he scrutinised the dead face. Upon searching, they found three halfpence in the comer of one of his pockets. There was an inquest, and all that remained of the once rich and powerful Robert Ridsdale, who had played with thousands as ordinary men play with shillings, was hastily consigned to a pauper's grave. Surely there is something in this life "to point a moral " if not "to adorn a tale"!

" ROUGH ON CATARRH " .•orreets offensive odors at once. Complete cure worst chronic ca*es ; alto unequalled as gargle foi diphtheria, sore throat, foul breath.

" ROUGH ON PILE 9 Why iQffer Piles t Immediate relief an comnlete enr» guaranteed. Ask for " Bough on Piles. Sure am for itching; protrudtog, bleeding, or any form of Pltel.