a quarter to two
The running ground covered four miles and a half , and had forty-two jumps in it , exclusive of the famous Brixworth : half was grassland , and half ridge and furrow ; a lane with very awkward double fences laced in and in with the memorable blackthorn , a laid hedge with thick growers in it and many another `` teaser , '' coupled with the yawning water , made the course a severe one ; while thirty-two starters of unusual excellence gave a good field and promised a close race . Every fine bit of steeple-chase blood that was to be found in their studs , the Service had brought together for the great event ; and if the question could ever be solved , whether it is possible to find a strain that shall combine pace over the flat with the heart to stay over an inclosed country , the speed to race with the bottom to fence and the force to clear water , it seemed likely to be settled now . The Service and the Stable had done their uttermost to reach its solution . The clock of the course pointed to half-past one ; the saddling bell would ring at a quarter to two , for the days were short and darkened early ; the Stewards were all arrived , except the Marquis of Rockingham , and the Ring was in the full rush of excitement ; some `` getting on '' hurriedly to make up for lost time ; some `` peppering '' one or other of the favorites hotly ; some laying off their moneys in a cold fit of caution ; some putting capfuls on the King , or Bay Regent , or Pas de Charge , from the great commission stables , the local betting man , the shrewd wiseacres from the Ridings , all the rest of the brotherhood of the Turf were crowding together with the deafening shouting common to them which sounds so tumultuous , so insane , and so unintelligible to outsiders . Amid them half the titled heads of England , all the great names known on the flat , and men in the Guards , men in the Rifles , men in the Light Cavalry , men in the Heavies , men in the Scots Greys , men in the Horse Artillery , men in all the Arms and all the Regiments that had sent their first riders to try for the Blue Ribbon , were backing their horses with crackers , and jotting down figure after figure , with jeweled pencils , in dainty books , taking long odds with the fields . Carriages were standing in long lines along the course , the stands were filled with almost as bright a bevy of fashionable loveliness as the Ducal brings together under the park trees of Goodwood ; the horses were being led into the inclosure for saddling , a brilliant sun shone for the nonce on the freshest of February noons ; beautiful women were fluttering out of their barouches in furs and velvets , wearing the colors of the jockey they favored , and more predominant than any were Cecil 's scarlet and white , only rivaled in prominence by the azure of the Heavy Cavalry champion , Sir Eyre Montacute . A drag with four bays -- with fine hunting points about them -- had dashed up , late of course ; the Seraph had swung himself from the roller-bolt into the saddle of his hack -LRB- one of these few rare hacks that are perfect , and combine every excellence of pace , bone , and action , under their modest appellative -RRB- , and had cantered off to join the Stewards ; while Cecil had gone up to a group of ladies in the Grand Stand , as if he had no more to do with the morning 's business than they .