Wilmore, in the eyes of connoisseurs. Three to one was asked on him, and for myself partaking the general infatuation I was going to risk a few dollars on him, when the Doctor said to me,—
"Choose the little one; believe me, the tall one is no go."
"What do you say?"
"I say," replied the Doctor, "that the tall one is not genuine; he may have a certain amount of speed, but he has no bottom. The little one, on the contrary, is of pure Scotch race; look how straight his body is on his legs, and how broad and pliant his chest is; he is a man who will lead more than once in the race. Bet on him, I tell you; you won't regret it."
I took the learned doctor's advice, and bet on Wilmore; as to the other four, they were not even discussed.
They drew for places; chance favoured the Irishman, who had the rope-side; the six runners were placed along the line, bounded by the posts, so that there was no unfair start to be feared.
The commissioner gave the signal, and the departure was hailed by a loud hurrah. It was soon evident that Wilmore and O'Kelly were professional runners; without taking any notice of their rivals, who passed them breathless, they ran with their bodies thrown slightly forward,
