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WALTONS BE1TING WHIMS. Yigilant," who writes more charmingly of the turf than any sporting author in England, never thought much of Walton as a plunger, because Walton knew nothing at all about horses, and was purely a chanca follower. Many of them are that, but Walton had much of tha blindfold truBt in fortune which characterizes women bettois. As an illustration of the Walton method of pickiDg winners, "Vigilant" relates this incident: "In most that he did he was ridden by the most ruthless superstition. Twelve or thirteen years ago I walked along the High street of Newmarket toward the breezy heath with him. It was early in the morning, long before breakfast time, and as we breasted the little hill on which Lancasters house, Black Bear, stands, Walton espied out in the middle of the road a solitary old playing card. It was lying face downward when he caught sight of it, but ho picked it up,flickod the. dirt from it and put it in his pocket. It was the seven of hearts. "This is a dead straight tip" he said to mo, "and I shall play whatever is No. 7 on the card in the big race today. Its a sure thing, I tell you." j i "The big race today is the Jockey Club Cup," I said, "and its as good as a walk over for Cor-rie Boy, who will more likely figure as No. 1 or No. 2 on the card than No. 7." "I dont give a damn for that," answered Walton, with a drawl; "you play No. 7; dye hear?" "In something over an hour the race cards were out, and being hawked in the town. Corrie Roy was at the head of the race, No. 1, and No. 7 was Mons. Lefebres old horse, Ladis-las. On every fragment of form it was long odds on the Duchess of Montroses beautiful mare. I felt sorter sorry like for the plunger, but no argument was any sort of use with him. "That afternoon, as soon as the numbers went up, Walton started plunging on Ladislas. Corrie Roy was a hot favorite, and though the Yank piled the stuff on the other it hardly affected the betting. At last the flag fell. Wood on Corrie Roy came along in the most confident style. Ted Sloan himself could not have done it any better. "Iu action this mare was a perfect picture, and formed a striking contrast to Ladislas, who was struggling along by the side of her. Poor George Fordham was ridiDg the horse, and a greater kidder never got into the saddle. "As they came to the distance, Wood, riding comfortably and smiling at the horse and rider, he fully thought he could leave them standing still whenever he wanted to. Fordham grimaced and seemed to be flogging and spurring his horse for all he was worth. "In reality he had hardly touched him. Nor did he until within six or seven lengths of the winning post. Then he set to riding old Ladislas in dead earnest. Wood tumbled to the fact that he had been spoofed, but it was too late, and by the time he could get the mare into her fall stride the post had been passed, and Ladislas had won by a short head. "Walton won a pile of money a regular parcel. Presumably he held that backing winners by the card only went once at a meeting, for I didnt hear of his taking a similar tip during the remainder of the week. And it wasnt for lack of playing cards, for I alone, forsooth, flung three whole packs over the garden of the cottage at which he lodged that self same night."
