In the centre is a large fountain of white marble,
round which is a broad tan-ride, and outside this again the stalls,
horse boxes, harness and carriage apartments.
On the left-hand side of the entrance-arch is a large chamber,
rush-strewn, like the firing-room of some ancient chatelaine, but
brilliant with polished wood and metal, gorgeous with stained glass:
that is the boudoir of the Queen of the Turf, and over the door-way are
her titles of honor emblazoned. The Great Lady, as is the wont of her
compeers, is somewhat capricious at times, and disinclined to parade her
beauty before strangers; but she chanced to be in a special good humor
that day, and allowed me to admire her "points" at leisure.
It is hard to fancy a more faultless picture of compact activity and
strength. Viewed from a distance, and, at first sight, her proportions
deceive every one; you are surprised, indeed, when you come close to her
withers, and find that you are standing by a veritable pony, barely
reaching fourteen hands three inches. But look at the long slope of
shoulder--the chest wide enough to give the largest lungs free play in
their labor--the flat, square quarters, the muscular fullness of the
upper limbs, so perfectly "let down," the clear, sinewy legs, without a
curb-mark or windfall to tell tales of fearfully fast work and hard
training--and you will wonder less how the championship was won.
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