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Racing Pleasantries By AV. S. YOSBlltGH It was only recently that a pentleman remarked : "From all I hear and read there is little of the true spirit of sport and good feeling among the people who attend the races. It is all envy, jealousy, cynicism, hatred, disrespect for authority — even the humor is sardonic." If anyone will saunter along the lawn to tl. paddock joining the groups of racing men scattered here and there he will hear n.any an amusing story or a hit of pleas-si ntry that will go far to remove such impressions as the above. He will he told of the doubtful compliment that Mr. Sam Hildreth paid his fellow trainer. Uichardson, on his ability in patching up broken down horses, when he described Kit-hard as a good man with bad 1,-gs ;" Matt Ilradys confidence in the staying qualities of his horse decisive "Stay? — s:ire he can stay — why you know he"s by Marathon"; or Rod Smiths remark on the high cost of living— "even a gold piece wont go very far— look at that one of mine;" — all of which contribute to the gaiety of the moment. When Martingale kept breaking away «nd starter tassidy called out "Make Martingale sand." the reply was "He isnt a standing martingale." and a horse with string halt provoked the odious comment. •He walks like Father Bill Daly." 31 It. XS PROMISE. Then some one tells how Mr. X promised Jiis wife he would bet no more on races. But a telegram came. His wife opened it. •Your. betting again." she charged. "This telegram gives the odds on a race — it says VI to T.." "Oh!" he answered, "thats a base-hall score of the game today between the Yankees and the Bed Sox." Several years ago Mr. Fassett was a candidate for governor of New York and it was widely stated that he was the special protege Of United States Senator Piatt— somewhat as Mr. McKinley had been of Mark Hanna. One day at Cravesend a colt named Fassett was in a race. Before the numbers were up someone in the clubhouse called to Jack Adler. "Who rides Fassett?" And from out of the crowd came a voice, "Tom Piatt." The late "Pittsburgh Phil," despite extravagant stories of his winnings, was a bad loser, and when he lost on a race he was loud in his complaints. One day at Graves-end the war department was trying one of its big guns in the harbor. The roar of the gun shook the stand. It was then one jolly-faced old fellow called out "Dont be alarmed, gentlemen, its only Pittsburgh Phils kicking because hes lost a bet." HEVRY OF XAVARRF. When Henry of Navarre won the Suburban of 1S9G he was practically a broken down horse. Mr. Belmont was in doubt about starting him. but instructed John Hyland. his trainer, to telephone him Mr. Belmont the night before tin race the exact condition of the horse. "Youd think Id have had it on my mind." said Hyland. "but I vent to bed and never dreamed of it until the next morning when I awoke." "How did you manage to dream when you were awake?" he was asked. "Say." exclaimed Hyland as he realized the joke, "you fellows are too devilish smart." But "Hylands bul " survived for many a day. The oft-repeated saying that Scotchmen are deficient in wit and humor is a libel. They have the keenest sense of humor and there is a pungency in their wit, a sharpness, such as John Randolph of Roanoke would compare to an old kitchen knife sharpened on a brickbat. The late Dr. Andrew Smith of Toronto was no exception to this. He was long a judge at the New York horse show, a frequent attendant at the races, here and in Canada, well spoken of by everybody, and speaking ill of no one. In one of Rosebens races the "big train" was unexpectedly lu-aten. Till. DOCTORS OBSF.RVATIOX. "Roseben did not run his race," observed the Doctor. "He bad high weight, remember," I remarked. He had carried high weights all the sea-Bon. " he returned. "But public confidence." I added. "He was an odds-on favorite." "Weel," replied the Itoctor. "I guess it was the weight of the Money, and not the weight of the lead." The late Mr. James R. Keene and Col. W. P. Thompson were warm friends, but : the friendship was often strained when one . took a "raise" out of the other. Mr. Keenes ; great horse Domino went to the post odds-on i favorite and was beaten for the Suburban of !." . Someone who had lost on Domino sent Mr. Keene a letter, signed "A Backer." accusing him of "throwing the public down" by starting a horse he knew could not stay, thus "burning up the publics money." It was a letter such as losers write every day | of the racing season. But the fun of the i thing just hit Golonel Thompson, and when- | | I ever he met Mr. Keene it was "Any more J letters from "Mr. Backer, Mr. Keene?" The J latter tried to laugh it off, but gradually ! it got on his nerves, and "Damn Mr. Back-| er. sir !" he replied. The following autumn i Colonel Thompson won the Great Kastern | Handicap with One I Love, practically unbacked. Then he received a letter signed "John Duffy" calling him all manner of scamps for starting a filly he had "covered i up" and "robbing the public of a well-j planned coup. That was Mr. Keenes I chance, and, "Any more letters from Mr. ! Duffy, Colonel?" was his usual query until Colonel Thompson, becoming weary of the chaffing, snapped "Damn Mr. Duffy, sir!" AMERICAN WIT VXD HUMOR. It is often said that American wit and humor is made up purely of exaggeration, and of this Maj. Tom Ochiltree, late Representative in Congress from Texas, was a shining example. It was during a period of unusually warm weather that I espied him in the paddock, basking in the smiles of a Cytherean goddess. Whatever might be the direction of his eye. he always knows what is going on, and. having caught a glimpse was striding forward to receive us with open arms. "Why, my boy, how goes it? Havnt seen you in a deuce of a while. Howve you been?" "Well enough, but for this weather— its certainly hot." "Oh ! ho ! ho youre a sad dog." roared the Texan Congressman. "Hot ! Why you dont know what hot weather is. This aint a marker to 18GG — remember 6G? — no; I thought not. Why that summer down in our country the thermometer thought nothing of goin up to 125." "Is that a fact?" we queried. "Fact? — why, one week it got cantanker- J ous and fetched up at 150 degrees. In Houston the boys used up 27,000,000 straw hats, at an average of one each time they went outdoors, as they always took fire in the sun, and nothing but the band would be saved. But going out on the Gulf that summer we caught it even worse." "No breeze?" "BREEZE! I GUESS NOT." "Breeze? I guess not. What good would it have done if there had been? Why, before we raised our sails they began burning, and left nothing but the bare masts. Then we had to play the hose on the deck to prevent it taking fire." "And the thermometer, what did it register?" "Probably 200 degress, but I dont know ; for when I went to find out, the thermometer had melted. The ships cook was missing, and when we went down into the kitchen there was nothing left of him but a spot ; of grease on the floor. Before we were out • an hour our tank of icewater was boiling. We cooked eggs in it. At two hours out | the links of the chains melted : so did all the iron, and at three hours the ship fell to pieces, took fire, and we had to. jump overboard." "The water must have felt good?" "Good? — it was red hot It turned the color of my hair, and its been that color ever since. I was burned from the crown . of my head to my soles. Why you should J have seen my back. The flesh was cooked , red to the depth of two inches and for 5 months the dogs used to scent cooked meat when I walked out, and followed me in droves, and the only man I could get to dress my back was a butcher under sentence of death." "A terrible experience." "Terribles no name for it. Why. King l Edward VII. tried to explain to me the terrors of the heat in India, but I knocked him out in short order when I told him - about that summer of G6. But. theres the bell ringing — Im going to whipsaw this race ■ — see you again." and the Major made a bee-line for the ring. |
