There are no visions of Die Vernon and Frank
Osbaldiston at "Burnam's" now. Eomance no
longer holds the bridle-rein while the delicate slip-
per is withdrawn from the old red morocco stirrup.
A whirl of dust, a glitter of wheels, a stretch of
tag-rag and bobtail horses, and the young Poti-
phars are contesting time with Dusty Bob and the
exquisite Mr. Farobank. That is the picture of the



"Fanitt" 95

Bloomingdale road now. It is the everyday pic-
ture too. Go when you will, you see the tag-rag
and bobtail horses, the cloud of dust, the whirl of
wheels, the young Potiphars, Dusty Bob, and the
elegant Mr. Farobank.
There was a time when I could steal away from
the dusky counting-room to inhale the fragrant
hartshorn of the stable, while the hostler was put-
ting the saddle on " Fanny." Fanny was a blooded
filly, a descendant of the great Sir Henry. Her
education had been neglected. She had been
broken by a couple of wild Irishmen, who used to
^^hvmvp" her, barebacked, morning and evening,
through the lonely little street in the lower part of
the city, where the stable was situated. As a conse-
quence, the contest between her high blood and
low breeding made her slightly vicious. The first
time I backed her, she stood still for half an hour,
no more moved by the whip than a brass filly
would have been ; then deliberately walked up the
street, turned the corner with a jump that almost
threw me on the curb-stone, then ran away, got on
the sidewalk, and stopped suddenly, with her fore
. feet planted firmly in front of a steep flight of area
steps, which happened to be filled with children.
96 Spaeeowgbass Papees.
