Nimrod's German Tour

It is considered to be almost as great a mark of bad taste to be proud of displaying the traces of some loathsome hereditary disease, as to express a wish to be known to Fame, unless we have rendered some very signal services to mankind. All that I have to say then on this subject is, that though Fame is represented to us as a personage of a very susceptible nature, of a most delicate and tender complexion, and not very unlike a distinguished young lady of modern days; yet experience has taught us that she traverses all countries and braves all climes; and, having an eye under every feather (as Virgil most elegantly describes her), even so humble an individual as myself cannot escape her glance. She has proclaimed me in the East and in the West; in the North and in the South: and Nimrod himself was little more known in the land of Shinar, than his modern namesake, by the help of these pages, now is in the sporting circles of the four quarters of the globe. Then I may say with Nisus, “Fama sat est!”
After this pompous exordium ― for which I hope I shall be pardoned ― it is no-wise surprising that, in a country like Germany, where a horse-mania rages, and in comparison with which Epirus or Yorkshire have been as nothing ― my Letters on Horses should have attracted notice; and a wish to see the Author of them in the country only a probable result. Two sporting Noblemen in particular had frequently expressed a wish that I should visit them; and my readers will recollect that I dropped a hint that it might be so. To each of these Noblemen I was personally unknown; but one of them, Count Veltheim, has been an old and valuable contributor (through the medium of Mr. John Lawrence) to the Sporting Magazine; and the other, Baron Biel, whom I may style the Pelops of his country, is connected by marriage with a friend of mine, of whom I have more than once made mention in these pages.
Exclusive of the general object of seeing Germany, there was another, to which it was considered likely that my attention would be drawn; and that was, the Racing Meetings lately established in Mecklenburgh, of which Baron Biel had been the chief promoter. Now there appeared to be but two objections to my visiting these races: first, the North Sea was to be crossed in a steam-boat ― a mode of travelling quite out of my line: secondly, two of these meetings took place just about the time of corn harvest, when my presence at home might not have been unserviceable.
Whilst pondering over these matters ― to me certainly weighty ones ― I received a letter from Baron Biel, which contained what in English is vulgarly called a clincher. “If you will do me the favour to come here in August,” said he, “you will be in time for Dobberan and Mecklenburgh races; and, as I know you often ride in public, I have two horses very much at your service for the Cups given at the former place by our young, amiable, and beautiful Hereditary Grand-Duchess, for which gentlemen-jockeys contend.” By Heaven! exclaimed I, what ought not NIMROD to do for a young, amiable, and beautiful Grand-Duchess who encourages the sports of the field!! The North Sea appeared no wider than a good Leicestershire brook; and the William Jolliffe steam-boat sounded almost as agreeably in my ears as the Hilton Jolliffe foxhounds.
There was another strong inducement to this trip to a foreign land. The very celebrated Mr. Richard Tattersall, of Hyde Park Corner, has rendered himself so popular in Germany (as indeed in every other part of the world with which he has had anything to do), by his very honorable conduct, and most essential services to those who had employed him professionally, as well as by his kindness and hospitality to so many foreign gentlemen who have come to this country in pursuit of horses, that a visit from him to his German friends was insisted upon as not admitting of an excuse, and he agreed to accompany me. Mr. Tattersall, thinking this was a favorable opportunity of introducing his eldest son to the manners and customs of this part of the Continent ― he having already sojourned one year in France ― he formed the trio; and on the last Friday in July we met on the deck of the William Jolliffe steam-boat, which was to sail with the next tide for Hamburgh...