CIassES_2i.044i RnoIr .X ^ 4- GpiiglitN".^ COPnUGHT DEPOSir. ^*****¥if)jfaf)ir»jf)ji^^ ■ / y ^y ^ / -/5 ?^AR O^^i 18J3 BY S.N.llwar. _^ .UBia»HEBS 1699. RACING RHYMES Turf Topics, the Thoroughbred, etc., etc., etc. S. N. ILWAR New Yokk GOODWIN BROTHERS 1440 Broadway 189!> 2S592 COPYRIGHT, GOODWIN BROS. TWOeOP'lESREc-IVcD. { Mf.3231899 Y\^^\o n^ Oi T DEDICATION. O ALL ye faithful "Reg-ulars," who journey to the tracic Day after day, through sun and storm, your favorites to back; To all ye pleasure loving- souls, who "caj-e not for the game So much as for the tJirilling sport"— but play it just the same; To all ye worthy owners, who run races "on the square"— Abou't the other kind of course I really do not care; To all ye great officials, stewards, judges— powers im- mense — Also ye mighty starters and ye "rail birds" on the fence; To all ye jolly bookmakers, who work so hard to get A very small percentage from the public — who will bet; To all ye journalistic scribes, who for the papers write Those full reports in which the sporting public delight; To all ye anxious trainers, who use so much care and thought That your charges to fhe post in prime condition may be brought; To all ye gallant pigskin knights, who give a straightout ride And always try to win, whatever horse ye may bestride; To all ye careful hostlers, rubbers-down and stable boj-s, And everybody else that this grand enterprise employs; To all ye students who delve deep in records, "form" and "dopes," To whom a Good-win is a thing on wQiich ye pin your hopes; To all ye winsome fair ones, who delight to view the races, And brighten up the grand stand with your toilets and your faces; t In short — to everey one who loves the "sport of kings" so great. And loves the noble thoroughbred, this book I dedicate CONTENTS, Page. Jimmy and Snapper and Fitz, - - - - 11 Derby Day, -------- 19 Suburban Day, ------- 27 Both Ways, ------ -33 Fifty to One, ------- 43 Three Great Babies, - - - - - 47 Parole, -------.- 55 The Gentleman Tout, ----- 61 The Dark Skinned Tout, - - - - - 69 The Tough Tout, ------- 75 Two Kinds, -.------ 81 The Bookymonster, - - - - - - - 87 Tbe True Bookmaker, ------ 91 The Start, ..--.... 97 The Finish, ----.- 103 . CONTENTS— Continued. ♦ How Clara Didn't Bet, - - - - - - 109 Look oj^ This Picture and Then on This, - - 115 Left at the Post, ------- 119 PUER Stabuli, . - - - - - 127 All Kinds of Luck, - - - - - - 139 The Goodthing, ------- 145 Fell in the Stretch, ------ 149 The Blind Veteran, . - - - 155 A Fair Enthusiast, ----- 161 The Piker's Hymn, - - - - - - - 165 Peter Pfeiffenschneider's Patriotic " Pet," - - 169 Mickey McManus and His "Farrum Sthudy." - 175 The Track in Winter, - - - - 181 JIMMY AND SNAPPER AND FITZ. JIMMY AND SNAPPER AND FITZ ''And there were Giants in those davs." OU may tell of your heroes who meet in the ring, Your Sullivans, Corbetts and all, But the Knight of the Pigskin's "the baby for me," And he on my muse "has first call." Yes, if he's a "Cracker- Jack" you may be sure He can show as much courage and nerve As any bold warrior who in the brunt Of the battle his country might serve. His eye must be keen and his wit must be sharp, For he has but a moment to choose 'Twixt one course or the other, full many a time. Which a fortune may win or may lose. And of all the brave boys who to saddle have jumped 1 2 Racing Rhymes. In those contests of speed, pluck and wits, There are none more deserving of undying fame Than ''JixiWiiy' and ''Snapper" and "Fitz." Sturdy Jimmy McLaughlin, your name ever stands InterUnked with the names of a few Of the most famous horses we ever have known, Who always were mounted by you: Miss Woodford and Kingston and Hanover too. Queen and kings of the turf in their day, Again and again have you steered them safe home. While the best of the others gave way. A steady, square ride was the kind you put up, And good judgment was in it all through; If you failed to get first there was rarely a time When the blame could be placed upon you. So the ''Red with Blue Sash," when you came on the track, Jimmy, Snapper ajid Fitz. 13 Was ever a glad sight to see; And your name should be known while a race track remains In our land of the brave and the free. Hurrah for "The Snapper!'' that youth debon- nair, So lissome and graceful and trim, Who rode like a lightning streak flashing through air; There were none who could ''snap" it like him. W^hen his mount might have won by a few open lengths, He would make it appear by his art That he worked like a Turk just to win by a nose. And a daisy he was at the start; For he'd stand still and watch for a chance to rush through. And crawl up, and sidle, and back. And play every trick that a jockey can try Till they gave him the best of the track; Then — zip! — he was off, and the others would break. 14 Rachig Rhymes And the flag dropped, and he had the lead. Yes, the "Garrison finish" still blazons his fame ; Ah! he was a jockey indeed. Dare-devil Fitzpatrick! The name in itself Brings up from the depths of the past A legion of memories, stirring and strong, Like the sound of a war trumpet's blast. Those races snatched out of the jaws of de- feat By riding so dashing and wild, That it seemed like the work of a desperate fiend, Or a man by a demon beguiled; Those hair raising squeezes close in by the rail, Where a shadow could barely get through, But where the bold boy saw the ghost of a chance And seized it with eye keen and true. Alone in his style stands the ''Dare-devil" jock. No other can match him therein; He'd take every risk that presented itself, With only one thought: 'T must win." Junmy , S71 upper and Fiiz. 15 The days have gone by when this trio so great Thrilled the hearts of the whole racing world; Xew idols are raised and adored for a while, Then down from their altars are hurled. I would not disparage the merits of those Wlio shine as star jockeys to-day; There are many among them well worthy of fame, Whose names on the records will stay. Yet for me there are none who can hold such a place, And around me can throw such a spell, •As the three I have named, and thus feebly have tried Of their glories a little to tell. And so, when my memory far from me strays, And as through the dim past it flits. It returns o'er and o'er to the soul stirring days Of ''Jimmy" and '"Snapper" and "Fitz." DERBY DAY. DERBY DAY. ONDON'S streets seem very quiet; Looks like Sunday ''down on 'Change;" All the clubs have lost their mem^ bers ; Something's happened — very strange! What on earth can be the matter? Ha! I just heard some one say ''Half the city's gone a-racing" — Why, of course. It's Derby Day!" Out upon the road to Epsom Fifty different kinds of rigs; Four-in-hands and hucksters' wagons, Tilburys and doctors' gigs, Donkey carts and blooded turnouts; Liveries and toilets gay, Rags and tags — all bound for Epsom; You might know it's Derby Day. 20 Racing Rhymes. What a dust they all are raising! Yet the crowd don't seem to care; Jolly jokes and bursts of laughter Ring upon the soft spring air. Fashion's beauties smile at beggars; Folly holds despotic sway; Social lines seem sadly shattered By the power of Derby Day. In that vast procession, wending On its way to Epsom Downs, Every face seems bright and sunny; One may look in vain for frowns. Though the road is badly crowded And the rich man's drag gives way Very often to the poor man, None complain — it's Derby Day. When the course is reached, how stirring Is the scene that meets the eye! Shows the games of every nature. Tricks and trades both lov/ and high; Countless schemes to catch a penny — 'Try your luck here!" ye who may; ''Never mind a 'bob' or 'tanner'!" * Blow it in — it's Derby Day. ♦Shilling or sixpence. Derby Day. 2 1 Flower girls vend their fragrant posies: *'Lady, buy my roses sweet!" — And some haughty, fair patrician, For whose decking would be meet Rare exotics, priceless orchids. Buys a shilling's worth in play; Pins them on her filmy laces; Quite en regie — Derby Day. Swarthy Gipsy fortune tellers Seek the future's book to read On the palms of stately beauties, Who of ''fortunes" have no need. Bands of tuneful Wandering Minstrels Sing some merry roundelay, And ''the hat" ne'er passes vainly; 'Tis well filled on Derby Day. Mountebanks and clowns and jugglers Vie in feats of every kind. Charity is, too, a feature: "Help the cripple!" "Help the blind!" Few are they who grudge a penny; Pleasure sheds a kindly ray O'er the hearts of th(jse who feel the Influence of Derbv Dav. 22 Raci?i^ Rhymes. As the vital hour approaches When the great event is run, Thrilling waves of deep excitement Stir the heart of every one. Look upon the eager faces, Young and fresh, and old and gray, All aglow with expectation Of the race of Derby Day. Betting waxes fast and furious; Wagers of all kinds are made, From the bonbon stakes of fair ones To the fortune that is played Ey the bold, adventurous plunger. None escape the powerful sway Of the speculative fever Which prevails on Derby Day. Now the doughty equine champions Sally forth toward the start. Cheers ring out for each contender; Jockeys, too, receive their part Of the multitude's applauding. Which to each one will convey Nerve and courage for the struggle Now at hand, of Derby Day. Derby Day. 23 Then there comes a curious stillness •O'er the erstwhile noisy throng; Breathless, all await the moment They've looked forward to so long. Soon a mighty roar arises, Like a tempest dashing spray. And wx know the race has started Which gives name to Derby Day. Oh! those few all fateful moments! Myriad hearts are beating fast. Well it is that such emotion Can for but a brief space last ! None could long endure the tension; Strongest nerves would soon give way Under such o'erwhelming pressure As that race of Derby Day. Ah! It's over! One's first feeling Is a sense of deep relief. Though to some comes exultation, And to many comes but grief. Some are richer; some are poorer; One has gained fame that will stay With him always — 'tis the owner ■Of the horse of Derby Day. 24 Racing Rhymes. Plaudits greet the noble winner, That great horse whose worthy name Will from henceforth stand forever On the turf's high roll of fame. Even losers swell the greeting When the hero comes to weigh, And receive the azure guerdon,** Trophy proud of Derby Day. Tis a great and grand experience Such a glorious scene to view; And, to me, a recollection Which will last my whole life through. Wonderful! how those brief moments O'er a people's hearts hold sway! Ah ! a mighty institution Is Old England's Derby Day! London, 1879. **Blue Ribbon. SUBURBAN DAY SUBURBAN DAY. with Apologies to the Manes of Tennyson. (The word "manes" is not meant as a horse pun.) 'OU must wake and call me early, call me early, Johnny dear; For to-morrow will be the great- est day of all the racing year. Of all the racing year, Johnny, the crasiest, wildest play ; For to-morrow's Suburban Day, Johnny, to- morrow's Suburban Day. There'll be ten or fifteen starters, Johnny; each one has got a chance. To try and pick the winner, Johnny, it puts me in a trance; For there's five or six I'd like to play — but I cannot play them all. So I guess ril take the ''longest" odds, and make my bet quite small. 28 Racifig Rhymes. No, I won't put up on the favorite, Johnny, for I ahvays feel as if The "pubUc money*' in that race will make the best horse ''stiff." With Eurus and Loantaka and Tillo in my mind, I'll back some rank outsider, and just simply go it blind. There'll be a fearful crowd, Johnny, and all will want to bet. The "Holiday Pikers" will rush around for any odds they can get. The bookies will reap a harvest if the favorite doesn't win, For the public will put up on him the limit of their tin. They'll fight and squeeze and push and jam to get their money down, And the ring will be Hke Donnybrook Fair or a mob let loose in town; Yet for all their rush and hustle at the odds to get a w^iack. The chances are that few of them will get their money back. Suburban Day. 29 I'm awful glad Suburban Day conies only once a year : For I will tell you something, Johnny, and it is rather queer: I've played the races many years, and my hair is turning gray, But I never could win a dollar on any Suburban Day. So that's the day I cut away from ''handicaps" and "dope," And simply in the foolest kind of luck I place my hope. On other days I try to bet in a scientific way, But I shut my eyes and ''stick a pin" when it comes Suburban Day. Then call me early, Johnny dear, and we'll go and get a drink; And we'll breakfast very leisurely; and we won't try to think Of handicaps or weights or form, and we'll put our "dope" away, For to-morrow's Suburban Day, Johnny, to- morrow's Suburban Day. BOTH WAYS. BOTH WAYS. g^ETE PLUNGER was a '^Regular," A "Handicapper" smart, ^^^Who knew the records of the turf, And knew them all by heart. He'd tell a horse's pedigree If you but gave his name, And tell of every race he'd run, And if he'd won the same; He'd tell the weight that he had up. The jockey on his back. The distance of the race, and the . Condition of the track; He'd tell the odds that there were laid, The horses that were in — In short, he could tell everything But some sure way to win. 34 Racing Rhymes - And even on that doubtful point He would explain to you A brilliant "system" that he had, Quite certain to "go through." The only things you had to have To make his system work Were fifteen thousand dollars and The patience of a Turk. It chanced that Pete had got one day A "dead sure" "inside tip," And joyfully he started for The track — his daily trip. He visited his bank and drew A roll of money out, To bet upon this "leap pipe cinch,' Without a single doubt; Because, not only had he got The tip so sure and straight, But he had also ''figured out" That horse's chance as "great." Both Ways, . 35 And he was ready to declare, By all the g^ods of ''dope/' That only this one horse could win, The others had no hope. Now as upon the boat he went, En route the track to reach, He met his old friend, Franklin Fresch^ Bound for ^Manhattan Beach. Most highly pleased were both to meet^ For mighty friends were they; Though each one found his fun in life In quite a different way. Pete cared for nothing but a race Where he could make a bet; Frank scarcely had a race track seen,. Nor backed a horse as yet. But Frank would walk ten miles to see A prett} girl and flirt. While Pete thought less of female charms Than so much common dirt. 36 Racing Rhymes. Yet as the boat sped fast along, They sat and talked apace, And Pete told Frank, in confidence. About this "cinchy" race. *'Say, Frank, my boy," said genial Pete, ''You'd better come with me Down to the track and play that race, You'll sure a winner be." 'Td like to go first rate," said Frank, 'Tf I had not, perforce, To meet a lady at the Beach; She must not wait, of course." "But, then," cried Pete, ''this race is first, And when it's run you'll go Down to the Beach and meet your girl; She's sure to wait, you know." Thus urged by Pete, Frank said at last That at the track he'd stop, Provided it was certain that No money he would drop; Both Ways. 37 "For, Pete," said he, "while I am sure Your tip looks very good, This betting business is by me But little understood; "And if I lost upon this race, 'Twould make me feel quite bad; Besides the risk that I shall run Of making my girl mad." "No fear that you will lose!" cried Pete, "Your sure to win a pile! And then your girl, e'en though you're late, Will softly on vou smile." So then into the train they passed. And to the track did hie; Frank up into the grand stand went; Pete to the ring did fly. He soon returned with glowing face. And whispered in Frank's ear: — "He's favorite! He has been backed! He's sure to win — no fear! 38 Racing Rhymes. 'Tve put five hundred on myself What shall I bet for you? You'd better put up all you can, You'll never better lo." **Well, Pete," said Frank, 'Tve only got Just sixty here in all; But take the cash and put it up, I don't want to seem small." ^'All right, my boy," said Pete, ''that's good! And though Pve played mine straight, I'll put your money on 'both ways,' That's safe, as sure as fate!" Then to the ring Pete runs again, Soon comes back very gay, And, giving Frank a ticket, says, "You've thirtv on each wav." The horses now are at the post; The "good thing" acts quite bad; He plunges, kicks and bucks around; It must be "dope" he's had. Both Ways, 39 There is a weary, long delay; The "good thing" will not start. The starter jumps down from his stand And uses all his art. He rushes out upon the track And waves his flag, and swears; For starters as a rule, you know, Say anything but prayers. At last he gets them all in line, And jumps back on his stand. ^'Now, if they'll only break!" cries Pete, "Our start will just be grand!'' There is a break; the flag goes down. 'They're off!" the crowd all yell; But Frank hears, hissing in his ear, Pete's exclamation, ''H — 11!" And out upon the track he sees The ''good thing" run — alone; But not the way the others run, Thev far awav have flown. 40 Racifi^ Rhymes. For as the starter dropped his flag, The "good thing" wheeled around And ran the wrong way of the track, His backers to confound. And many an angry groan goes forth, And many a muttered curse, And many a man is thinking of His amputated purse. Poor Pete himself is wild with rage, And loudly vents his ire; Then turns around to comfort Frank,. Whose pluck he does admire. For Frank has never said a word, But smiles with face serene, While Pete expected that he'd be With consternation green. He laughs at Pete's grim, rueful face, And cries, to Pete's amaze, "Sorry for you, but Fm all right ! My bet was made 'BOTH WAYS!' FIFTY TO ONE. «r FIFTY TO ONE. E jumped out and beat the flag, sir, And opened up a gap Of half a dozen lengths, sir, Under a •'double wrap." Then I held my ticker tighter, For it looked like a good thing ; 'Twas only loo to 2, sir, But I felt just like a king. I shouted 'They'll never get near him! "My horse they'll never ketch!" But he faltered on the turn, sir. And "blew up" in the stretch. He finished an awful last, sir, And I threw my ticket away. I felt confounded bad, sir; Twas such a likely play ! The jockey that was on him, sir. Is my pertic'ler friend; He told me they had backed him, sir, And he'd ride "from end to end." 44 Racing Rhymes. Besides the trainer told me That he wasn't out for fun, But was "tryin' " for a "killin';" And the price, sir! — Fifty to One.l THREE GREAT BABIES. THREE GREAT BABIES. jH K ^ HESE are the days when youngsters i^ have the call And infant prodigies the Turf con- trol; The horseman's greatest hope seems now to fall Upon the future of some unseen foal. That ancient proverb, ''Do not try to count Your chickens ere they're hatched/" is ob- solete; The richest golden flood from fortune's fount Elows toward some unborn colt who'll be most fieet. The grand "Euturity," that glorious prize, And countless other two-year-old rich stakes Hold forth their tempting bait before the eyes Of each ambitious owner; and he takes 48 Racing Rhymes. More pains, and feels more pride, and spends more cash To get a possibly great two-year-old Than e'er he would some record fast to smash. Thus is the Turf by youngsters now con- trolled. Of all the many infants of this kind Who have been public idols in their days, A few there are whom specially we find Worthy of lasting fame and loudest praise: And three of these stand out from all the rest So grandly prominent in their career, So fully equal to the hardest test, That we are fain to sing their praises here. HIS HIGHNESS. (Ran as a Two- Year-Old in 1891. Won $108,000.00.) Grand sounding and patrician is the name Of this great horse; and he did not belie His title, but did well uphold the same In those fierce contests which his speed did try. Three Great Babies 49 Son of a "Princess," precedence he took In a most literal sense, for when he ran No one in front of him his pride would brook, And at the finish he would lead the van. In his imperial two-year-old career, Up to "six figures" did his winnings mount; Record but few can show; and hence 'tis clear He should among the great immortals count. Yet we do not lucre homage pay Or on mere gain bestow the highest meed; We praise His Highness in the sportsman's way For stamina and pluck and splendid speed. Now from the Turf's most active life he's passed, And as a sire is gaining honors new; His offspring have his courage and are fast, And glorious deeds we look for them to do. He is in worthy hands, for we are sure That, placed among the magnates of the sport, His present owner's fame you'll find secure In all good ways which Fortune's blessings court. 50 Racing Rhymes^ DOMINO. (Ran as a Two-Year-Old in 1893. Won $180,000.00.) ''Black Whirlwind" was the title thou didst gain, And nobly didst thou win it through that burst Of overwhelming speed, which, in thy strain. Stands out above all other things the first. Gameness thou hadst, and stamina as well. Coupled with gentleness and temper mild; For all thy greatness, I have heard them tell That thou couldst have been ridden by a child. Rich was the winning which thy triumphs made — A fortune in itself — a mighty sum! High on the golden list it stands displayed. To be the wonder of all years to come. But thy proud owner, man of ventures vast. Of iron nerve and enterprise supreme, Thought more of thee than wealth that thou amassed ; Thv eains to him did but a trifle seem. Three Great Babies. 51 Thus, when thou passed away, his sorrow deep Moved him to rear thee a memorial stone, Which stands above the spot where thou dost sleep, To tell the world how all thy virtues shone. Great son of Himyar, thou dost stand alone, And while the records of the turf shall last Thy fame the topmost place should surely own ; It might be equalled — could not be sur- passed. JEAN BERAUD. (Ran as a Two-Year-Old in 1898. Won $70,000.00.) The latest star that gloriously doth rise To dim the other meteors of speed Is Jean Beraud, a colt in whom there Hes An inborn power of highest type indeed. Son of His Highness, whom we here have named, Well qualified by ancestry is he To hold the place he's gained and be far-famed Through such a lineage of proud degree. 52 Racing Rhymes. Fortunate, too, is he, in that his lot Is toi be owned by one whose honored name Lends to the Turf that lustre which is not Brought save by those who spotless records claim. When he who wisely steered our ships of state Gave to the sport his countenance and means. Every true turfman's heart felt pleasure great, Because such aids ennobles racing scenes. So' let us, to this latest brilliant star Wish all success in his career to be, To spread his name abroad, both near and far, That all the racing world his fame may see. Worthy is he to rank with Domino And with His Highness — more cannot be said; "For these few words his greatness fully show And rank him as a wondrous thorough- bred." L'ENVOI. Think then of these great three — of others, too, Proud, well known names on which we fain would dwell. But that a volume's space would scarcely do Should we essay of all such stars to tell. Then it may be that we will, one and all. Say it is well, as on the seasons roll, That these are davs when voungsters have the call And infant prodigies the Turf control. PAROLE. f PAROLE. •(Dean Swift, In writing of the Houyhnhnms, makes us infer that horses have souls. The writer believes so. at all events.) ET me tell again how old Parole — Bless his soul! — Raced for honor of his native land, Far away upon a foreign strand. Let me tell again how wxll he won — Nobly done! — While our English cousins all exclaimed That to lose they did not feel ashamed, When a gallant horse like old Parole — Bless his soul! — Beat their best ones hollow; 'Tor," said they ''Such ahorse we don't see everv day." Our good English cousins saw Parole — Bless his soul! — In their ''City and Suburban" race. Show their thoroughbreds a winning pace. 56 Racing Rhymes. It was nearly twenty years ago; But I know That it seems like yesterday to me When I journeyed forth that race to see. I had heard that plucky old Parole — Bless his soul! — Was to start in their great race that day, And I went my country's horse to play. So I put my cash on old Parole — Bless his soul! — While my English friends stood by and laughed, And my ''Yankee Cheek" they gaily chafifed; *'Ah," said they, ''now do you really think" — With a wink — "That your Yankee horse can beat our cracks? He can't run upon our English tracks!" "Well," said I, 'T like our old Parole — Bless his soul! — And I love my native Yankee land; And my bet is down — so there I stand! " Soon the race was off; and old Parole — Bless his soul! — Farole. 57 Came along as steady as a clock, And as solid as old Plymouth Rock, Rating on with honest measured pace Through the race. Till the finish came, and then he shook Off the others one by one and took The lead. Then roared I "Come on, old Parole!— Bless your soul! — Show them what a Yankee horse can do!" "Hail Columbia!" and "I^ed, White and Blue!" Past the winning post dashed old Parole — Bless his soul! — And behind him followed England's best. Patriotic fervor swelled my breast, And I shouted "Now, boys, don't you think"— \\'ith a wink — "That our Yankee horse, on English tracks, Can hold his own with some of England's cracks? Here's three cheers for honest old Parole! — "Bless his soul!" — 58 Racing Rhymes. Mv English friends joined in them loud and strong; For generous thoughts to English hearts .belong. Yes, they cheered for gallant old Parole — Bless his soul! — And we went and drank his health in wine, Until I felt as if the world were mine. Glory to our glorious land ! — May it stand First in racing, as in everything! Honor to the sportsmen kings who bring Forth such horses as our old Parole — Bless his soul! — Who upheld the colors that he bore And brought them back in triumph to our shore. ^ THE GENTLEMAN TOUT, THE GENTLEMAN TOUT. ILL you kindly let me glance upon your card, sir? I've dropped mine somewhere down here in the ring." I turned, and at my shoulder stood a stranger, With look and dress and manner ''quite the thing;" His words were with the most politeness spoken, ?Iis face expanded in a gentle smile — A perfect gentleman he seemed, most surely. And guileless as to any trick or wile. I handed him my card; he scanned it quickly, Cried "Ah! I thought so!" — then he gave it back Saying, "Thank you, sir," and turned away and left me. Going out beyond the ring, toward the track. 62 Racing Rhymes. Five minutes later, once again I saw him; He nodded to me with a knowing wink, As to a book maker some words he uttered; The bookie smiled— it was good news, I think. Then stepping to my side he softly whispered, 'T'm feeling pretty sure what horse will win; In fact, I've just had first class information That lightning fast his latest work has been; I also know the stable's backed him heavy — His price has just gone a point or two; And so I've just put up my last cent on him — I thought I'd like to give the tip to you. 'The reason that I asked to see your card, sir, Was that a friend of mine, a week ago, Told me 'The Kempton Stable" had a gelding Who soon would win — my friend is ''in the know." I noticed by your card "The Kempton Stable" Own Parachute, and then I rushed, of course. To see this friend of mine, and when I found him I asked him if that was the proper horse? The Genilema7i Tout. 63 ''He told me that it was. and also urged me To play it hard, and added then besides About his work, and how^ the stable backed him: I went and interviewed the boy who rides, Whom I know well; he told me that his or- ders Were to make every post a winning one, And that in warming up his mount he'd noticed That he was fit, and very full of run. ''So I made up my mind that I would press it^ And, as I said, have just bet my last cent, Which I would never do unless quite certain The horse I backed was "fit" to win and "meant." Then seeing you, remeni1:)ering your polite- ness, I thought that for it T might make return By telling you about this information Concerning Parachute, which I just learn."" In those days I was innocent and "easy;" And he seemed such an honest, pleasant chap. 64 Racing Rhymes. I swallowed with avidity his story — Even as a toothless infant swallows pap; So, though I had already backed ''my fancy" For "five each way," which was my usual stake, I went and put on Parachute a ''Fifty," Determined that I'd either make or break. My new found friend stood hy me while I bet it And heartily approved of what I'd done; Then said he'd meet me when the race was over. When he supposed I'd feel like ''standing one;" To this I very joyfully assented, Whereon he left me "to look up a friend," While I, to see the race, from out the ring went And up into the stand my way did wend. The start was quickly made — the race was over — And Parachute was never in the hunt; But my own choice, on whom I bet ten dollars, Won easily, and alwavs was in front; The G 671 He man Tout. 65 Porty I won on him, but that just left me Ten dollars out on the whole blessed thing. And feeling very sore about that ''Fifty," I started to go down toward the ring. While standing on the stairs, I saw before me My ''friend" who had on Parachute orone broke ; He did not notice I was there behind him, And thus I heard some words he gaily spoke Unto the man who by his side was walking: "Well, didn't I tell you that he'd surely win? I hope you put a good big swell bet on it And feel like letting me for some stand in!" When I heard this it fazed me not a little: I had some faint suspicion of the game : And later on I met a friend and told him About the chap, and well described the same; It happened that just then I once more spied him. And to my friend the man I pointed out ; He cried "Oh! that's your precious fellow, is it? He's nothing but an "All Round," "Sure Thing'' Tout!" THE DARK SKINNED TOUT, THE DARK SKINNED TOUT. ^g(^/^AY, boss, I sees yo' gwine ter ^^ play, sah; Jest step er leetle bit dis way, sah. Ef yo' am gwine ter play Jim Hood, sah, I tells yo' dat boss ain't no good, sah. Come aw^a-a-ay! Don' yo' pla-a-ay — Don' play nuthin' but what I say! "Wha' fur yo' play on dat ole boss, sah? Dat boss kain't win dis-yere race, boss, sah. Lem'me put yo' on; I kin give yo' de winner; Ef I don', yo' kin call me er doggone sinner. Come awa-a-ay! Don' yo' pla-a-ay — Don' play nuthin' but what I say! "Yo' see dat mar'? She' ll be de winner; Dey's layin' ten ter one agin her; yo Racing Rhymes. Jest go an' put five on dat mar', boss; She'll win, an' win it right- smart far, boss. Come awa-a-ay! Don' yo' pla-a-ay — Don' play nuthin' but what I say. *'My ne'vew work in dat mar's stable; He say dat mar'es sure 'nuff able Ter show her heels ter de hull bilin', An' fer er race she's jest er spilin'. Come awa-a-ay! Don' yo' pla-a-ay — Don' play nuthin ' but what I say! '^He work dat mar' de oder mornin', Befo' de day wuz done er dawnin' ; She runned de quarter in twenty-t'ree — Ain' dat enuff fer yo' an' me? Come awa-a-ay! Don' yo' pla-a-ay — Don' play nuthin' but what I say! ''Wha'-wha'-wha's dat yo' say ter me? "Git out!'"' boss? I tells yo' dat I ain't no tout, boss. The Dar'k Skinned Tout. 71 "Ef yo' don' wan' ter take dis tip, sah, 'Go an' lose yo' money- an' I'll jest skip, sah. Go awa-a-ay ! Don' yo' play-a-ay — X)on' play nuthin' dat dis chile say!" THE TOUGH TOUT. THE TOUGH TOUT. OOK 'ere, mister, lemme tell yer Dat dis bloody roice's fixed. Don't yer go 'n lose yer boodle An' wid all dem jays get mixed; Let er cove wot ''knows it" tell yer De best t'ing yer ever see — Den go in 'n sock it heavy. An' put sunthin' on fer me. "Dan McGinnis, on de Bowery, Runs er gin mill — know 'im well- Las' night, w'en we wliz er' lushin' Got ter feelin' fine 's 'ell. 'E Stan's in wid all dese trainers. An' 'e sez ter me, sez 'e, ^Tetey, I kin make yer fortin. If yer'll keep it dark now, see?" ■''Den I sez, sez I, 'T'm fly Dan, Wot yer tells no furder goes.' An' he flashes out dis good t'ing. An' de trick ter me 'e shows; 76 Racing Rhymes All de bosses in dis bizness Is dead stiff ter Jnmpin' Jack; 'E's de boss dat's got ter win it, 'E's de only boss ter back. ''All de jock 's goin' ter lally, An' let Jumpin' Jack walk in; All dem odder bosses' trainers On de Jack lias got deir tin; An' 'e's goin' ter get de start, too; Fur de boys hez got down ; Dat't wot Dan McGinnis telled me, Wile de drinks 'e passed aroun'. ''I wuz goin' ter play dis good t'ing. But I wuz er bloomin' cbump; Los' me money on de fust roice — Put 't all up in er lump. T'ougbt dat fust roice wuz er lay-down. An'. I'd git er wad ter bet On dis cincb — an' lemme tell yer. It's er moral! — don't forget! ''I don't ougbt ter give dis tip out, Dan wud sniasb me fer dis play; But I'm broke an' wan' ter bet it; T'ougbt I'd put yer on de lay, The Tough Tout. 'j'j 'Cause I seen yer bet 'em heavy, An' I t'ought yer'd stake me, too. Go 'n put er hun'red on it ! Dis 'ere job's er goin' t'rough. "Wot! Yer've got anodder boss played? Hully Gee! Dat makes me sick! Go 'n get dat money off, now! Make er sneak 'n get it quick! Fur de bosses is er goin' To de post — don't lose yer cbance! Change de bet ter Jumpin' Jack, boss! Dis 'ere ain't no sone and dance! "Wot! Yer goin' ter stan' pat, den, W'en yer know about dis job? Den go put five on fer me, boss — Pay yer back, so 'elp me Bob ! Wot! Yer ain't er goin' ter do dat? W'en r,ve telled yer 'bout dis t'ing? Well, yer sure to lose yer money, Fer yer up agin "De Ring.'' '' TWO KINDS. ^ HE race was done. I stood upon the lawn, Gazing about me at the moving- throng. Nothing cared I which way that race had gone; Por, while I ne^'er was a bettor strong, 'On that event T had not bet one cent, And, as I said, cared not which way it went. It really was amusing to remark The various expressions on the faces; From barn-door grins to frowns like midnight dark, As gain or loss had left their varying traces. Almost each man whose looks my glances met Apparently had made his little bet. 82 Racing Rhymes. One gay young swell was hurrying toward the ring, A fellow dressed in Fashion's latest mode; He looked as happy as a new made king Or like a man who never tailor owed; Within his hand a ticket close he held; With winning pride his shirt-front fairly swelled. Just as he passed me by he met a friend, And stopped and slapped him gayly on the back, Sx.ying in tones that all the air did rend, ''Hurrah! Look here! You bet I've got 'em; Jack!" And to his brother swell, like him arrayed, His ticket he triumphantly displayed. ''Heavens!" thought I, "he must have hit it- hard; A hundred dollar bet he must have booked!" And as the distance was about a yard I cautiously upon his ticket looked. The winner's price was eight — that much I knew; Our young friend's ticket read — ''i6 to 2.'' Two Kinds. 85 Near to my side had stood throughout the race A plain old man, one rather roughly clad, Who showed no sign upon his hard-lined face That any interest in the race he had; And as I once had looked this man upon He seemed, Hke me, only a looker on. The finish was a close one; and so hot That, till the winning numbers were displayed, No one could tell which horse the race had got. The old man then one quiet question made: ''My eyes are getting rather old to see; Tell me, sir, is that top one 5 or 3?" He, too, had marked the scene the swells be- tween And marked the winner's exultation wild; Then, as they hurried off along the green, He turned around to me and grimly smiled. 'Tt's hard," said he, ''to see how some folks win ; I can't get that much pleasure — dang my skin!" 84 Racmg Rhymes. So saying, down his hairy, brown hand went Into his trousers pocket, and brought out A bunch of tickets, crumpled up and bent. Thought I, "They're losing ones, without a doubt. For his old face looked solemn as an owl, And his remark was something like a growl. He counted out those tickets, one by one, Slowly and carefully. I, looking on, Could scarce believe my eyes when he had done And quietly toward the ring had gone. Twenty-three winning tickets did the old man get; Each one a fifty or a hundred dollar bet ! ^ THE BOOKYMONSTER, 1 THE BOOKYMONSTER. EWARE! Beware! Avoid his lair! Ele thirsteth for thy money. He lies in wait within that gate. By yonder course so sunny. He'll lure thee on with cunning- tongue In his sweet odds to revel, That of thy cash he may make hash And send thee to the devil. Look out! Look out! There is no doubt If once his spell o'ertakes you, Your purse he'll seize and he will ''freeze Y^ou out'' until he breaks you. Your every cent for him is- meant If once you let him charm you; Therefore take heed while thus I plead, *'Stay oft'" and he won't harm you. THE TRUE BOOKMAKER. THE TRUE BOOKMAKER. H ! a jolly old soul is the bookmaker; Yes, a jolly old soul is he, As he smiles on his box While he handles his ' 'rocks, " With his eailant assistants three. Oh! a crafty old soul is the bookmaker; See him finger his bit of chalk, As he "marks 'em up" here, And he "marks 'em down" there. While he gives you his cunning talk. Oh! a nervy old soul is the bookmaker; For he often is forced to play In a desperate game. Where a slip, if it came. Would sweep him and his money away. So he needs all his wits, does the bookmaker, When the plungers are after his cash; And e'en his own kind. He will frequently find. Have been plotting to send him to smash. 92 Rad?ig Rhymes. But an honest old soul is the bookmaker; If you happen to hand him a ''roll" Which exceeds what you bet, You are likely to get Back the surplus — he'll not keep the whole. And a kindly old soul is the bookmaker; His hand is e'er open to aid A friend who's in need; None in vain to him plead If a good, honest case they have made. So, take him all 'round, the real bookmaker Is an excellent kind of a man; He need cause no alarm, For he does much less harm Than your brokers and stock-jobbers can. And though, now and then, there's a book- maker Who brings disrepute on his class, By some action not "white" Or some trick that's not right, 'Tis but rarely he's found — let him pass. The True Bookmaker. 93 So, when people sneer at the bookmaker, They are showing how Httle they know^; For his record's as fair And his hfe is as square As ''the odors of sanctity" show^ THE START. THE START. UMING, fretting and curvetting; Fifteen horses at the post; Half a dozen of them "bad ones;" Hard to tell which kicks the most. Starter swearing, little caring Whether he is heard or not. His assistant, whip persistent, Stirs the boiling equine pot. "''Now, you jock there! run a l^lock there Will you, wdien you l^reak again?" ^ Then that kid receives a blessing In choice words, which I won't pen. ''Here now, Billy, don't get silly! Turn your horse's head around! Or ril bet you I will set you Down upon the cold, cold ground! "Jack, come up there! Lash that pup, there, Sam, if he stays back like that! — Well, if this don't beat the devil! What's got into you, now, Pat? — 98 Racing Rhymes. Sam, just catch him! Wish they'd scratch him Or refuse to let him run — That d — d kicker! Come! Get thicker! Line up, bless (?) you — every one! *'Are you ready? Now there! Steady! BREAK! — Confound your blooming eyest What d'ye mean by standing still there? — Such a monkey I despise!" By this token, all have broken But one horse, who still hangs back; Gone the rest are, and the best are Now half way around the track. While returning, language burning- Greets that jockey whose hard fate Finds him mounted on the sulker Who has caused the start to wait. E'en they fine him, or consign him To the ranks of those who walk; And he's lucky, that same duck he Is, to get oft with a ''talk." Once again they group, and then they All their tricks and kicks renew; While the starter, getting madder,, Lets himself out ''not a few." The Start. 99 Fines them plenty — ten or twenty — Even fifty — sometimes more; Or suspends them, and that ends them Till ''the powers" their rights restore. Weary waiting — crowd belating; Bettors anxious; judges cross; Everybody quite disgusted; Starter, even, at a loss. Horses skipping — Sam keeps whipping — Will they never get away? All revolting, kicking, bolting; Looks like they were there to stay. Now they gather. That's good, rather; Only one or two still lag. Starter gives a final caution — ''Now look out there!" — lifts his flag — "GO!" They've started! Off they've dart- ed; Not together — for a part Go a-sailing — others trailing; Prettvbad! But it's a start! THE FINISH, * THE FINISH, OUND the turn, with a desperate dash, Into the stretch they swing. Seven horses are all abreast, Flying as if a-wing. Every jockey is riding with vim; With tight set teeth and with visage grim; The stake is rich, and a win for him Will be a glorious thing. Thousands of pairs of eager eyes Are watching them "straighten out;" Thousands of hearts are throbbing fast With fear or hope or doubt. The plunger's plunge and the piker's bet Alike in the balance hang as yet. For none can tell who the race will get In such a hard fought bout. Four of the seven falter and fail, Falling back to the rear; I04 Racing Rhymes One of the others forges ahead, Making his backers cheer. He, the favorite, sticks to the rail. But the other two are at his tail. Their jockeys riding with tooth and nail;. Any one's race, 'tis clear. One of the rear guard comes again. Catches the leading three; A rank outsider, and all unbacked, Any one there can see. All the cheering dies out and ends; Only the bookmakers and their friends "Call on" the horse who now contends; No favorite is he. The leader's jockey draws his whip; The bookies loudly yell. The rank outsider gains inch by inch; His jockey rides him well! Falls the whip on the favorite's flank; His backers' faces look dazed and blank;. Their hopes of winning suddenly sank When that one whip stroke fell. The Finish 105 Now they are lighting it neck and neck; Only a few yards more ! The favorite gets his head in front; His backers give a roar; His jockey, the crack boy of the day, Lifts his horse in a masterly way; Every muscle is put in play; Game is he, to the core! Yet the outsider hangs grimly on. 'Tf better jock were there, He'd win, and win it easily!" The "rail birds" all declare. Bvit a premier jock the favorite rides; He gets in his work in the last few strides. And like a Hash past the wire glides — Wins the race — "bv a hair!" 16^ HOW CLARA DIDN'T BET. HOW CLARA DIDN'T BET. OW — let — me — see. Who starts in this? I really do not know What I shall play. Dear me! my programme's lost! Where did it go? I'll have to buy another one. No, here it is! How nice! It makes me feel so cross to have to buy a programme twice. Now — let — me — see. What's number six? I always look there first. Good lands! it is that horrid horse that's owned by Mr. Hearst; I wouldn't bet a cent on him, for — only think! — one day He beat a horse that I had played, though it led all the way; That's made me hate him ever since. But I like "Number Six," For that's my lucky number. Oh! there's Tom! He always picks Such splendid winners! Come here, Tom, and tell me what is good. You like that horse of Mr. Heart's? I didn't think you would. no Racing Rhymes. Now it is just an awful shame for you to tell me that; Because you know I will not bet on him — and that is flat! Do tell me something else. You can't? Then^ sir, you just can leave. How you can like that mean old horse I really can't conceive. Now — let — me — see. Here's Sweetheart in. That's such a lovely name That I believe I'll bet on him; it will be all the same, For any horse can come in first; and — oh! there's Mrs. Pike! I'll speak to her. Say, Mrs. P., do tell me what you like. You like that horse of Mr. Hearst's? Good gracious! it's too bad! Every one likes that nasty horse but me. It makes me mad. And he's my lucky number, too! Perhaps I ought — but no; I'll bet on anything but him, because I hate him so! Now — let — me — see. Here's Lucky Dog; he won one day last year; How Clara Didn't Bet iii Maybe this year he'll win again — Oh, boy! please come up here! (Those stupid boys are all so slow!) Who's favorite clown there? That wretched horse of Mr. Hearst's! Well, I Vvill just declare! Seven to five? It seems to me those odds are very small; W' hy, if he won you'd scarcely get back any- thing at all. What's Sweetheart's price? Fifteen to one! Now isn't that too nice! I'd like so much to win a bet at such a lovely price; I'd buy myself a new silk dress, and — Now — just — let — me — see. I'll look at my progrannne again. No, boy; don't wait. Here's three Other nice names; I like them all. Japonica — that's sweet! And Love's Delight — how nice that is! And here's Flying Feet. Such pretty names' But then I think that Sweetheart is the best; I guess I'll make a bet on him; he ought to beat the rest. 112 Racing Rhymes. Why, goodness me! They're at the post! Oh, dear! Where is that boy? I'll lose my chance! If I don't bet, the race I won't enjoy. There! They are off! I told you so! And Sweetheart is ahead. He's going to win! It's just my luck! Re- member what I said! See that old horse of Mr. Hearst's; he cannot run a bit! He's nearly last. My stars! this thing almost gives me a fit! They're in the stretch; see Sweetheart run! I'm sure he's going to win; If I had only bet on him, how glad I would have been! Oh! what is that? That horrid horse of Mr. Hearst's is next — He's catching Sweetheart! Now, just look! He's gaining! How I'm vexed! That old horse wins! And only think! Tom told me I must get Nothins: but him! And Mrs. Pike! I'm sure that way she bet ! It's just too bad! I'm positive, if that boy had stayed there I would have put my bet on him. It almost makes me swear! LOOK ON THIS PICTURE AND THEN ON THIS LOOK Ox\ THIS PICTURE LL the crowd are gayly cheering When the favorite wins. And there's wining and there's beering When the favorite w^ins. And the bookies all are paying, And the bettors smart things saying, And they're anxious for more playing When the favorite wins. AND THEN ON THIS. HERE'S a silence and a sadness ^ When the long shot wins. There's a crowd that's sour to mad- ness Wlien the long shot wins. And the bookies all are smiling, And with jokes the time beguiling, And with cash their boxes pihng Wlien the long shot v/ins. LEFT AT THE POST. LEFT AT THE POST. OUND him? W'ell, my dear feller, you'd better bet your life! As hard as any drunken longshore- man ever pounded his wife. I had in my clothes altogether just one hundred and seventy-five; And I put it all on — every dollar — as sure as you're alive. I felt so dead sure of winnin' that if I could have pa^^•ned my socks I'd have put that money up besides. Why, he would have won by blocks : For there wasn't a bit of a question but wdiat he was the best boss And trained to the minute. And backed ? — like there couldn't be no loss. Only a few of us good ones — Tom's friends — were "in the know;" By George! if we had pulled it off how we'd made the champagne flow! 1 20 Racing Rhymes. They opened him up at sixes and we backed him down to threes; And four or five of the bookies got pretty weak in the knees And refused him altogether. Tom put fifteen hundred up, And tokl me his boss w^ould win sure . Con- found that dirty pup Of a starter! He had five good breaks, at the least; And Tom's boss was always jumpin' out like a bullet that is greased, And the others all got off well too; but he wouldn't drop the flag; Looked to me Uke he wanted to favor some other feller's nag. Anyway he kept 'em standin' there for just about half an hour, While Tom was a-cussin' and swearin' for all that was in his power; Because his colt is nervous, and likes to get away quick. And if he's fussed about at the post sometimes he won't run a lick. For all that Tom's jock had orders to drive him for all he was worth, Left at the Fost. 121 And sure he was fit that very day to beat any- thin' on earth; Besides, the kid had on himself a fifty dollar bet And a couple of hundred from us boys was pretty sure to get. If they'd waited even another half hour, and then given him a show, There wasn't one in that field but what he could have made look slow; But when that fool of a starter dropped the flag" and gave the word (It wouldn't have pleased him very much if he could have only heard What Tom and us fellers called him), our boss was standin' flat. With his head turned round the other way; and I will eat my hat If the others weren't a sixteenth off before he could get around. Then that skin of a starter says to our jock,. "Now, sir, you can stay on the ground For a week, because, with the others you wouldn't try to break." Holy Moses! but that was the worst of all! The dirtv bloomin' fake! 122 Racing Rhymes. To burn up our good money, and then lay the blame on our jock! It's good I wasn't at the post; I'd a hit him with a rock; Or anyway I'd a-cussed him hard. No matter what they done. Let 'em rule me off if they wanted to! The sneakin' son of a gun ! Well, it's over, and I'm busted. If you've got a dollar to spare Let me have it till to-morrer, for I only paid my fare One way, and I don't feel now much like want- in' to walk back To the city and go without supper after gettin' such a crack. For I can stand most anythin' and never turn a hair; I can lose my money by a nose, and you'll never hear me swear; I can get on a "stiff" or be t'rown down and drop a pile of tin, Or have my boss "pulled" out of the race — and vou'U onlv see me grin. Left at the Post. 123 But there's one swipe I can't stand at all, and it knocks me in a heap ; And makes me want to tear my hair, and cuss, and swear, and weep; For I feel like a man who's just been hung and sees his grandmother's ghost When I back a hoss that couldn't lose — and see him LEFT AT THE POST. PUER STABULL t^ SCENE FROM THE TRAGEDY OF PUER STABULI" ("THE STABLE BOY") (The manuscript of this tragedy is supposed to have been discov- ered in the ruins of thf hippodrome at Pompeii; and the same, in a fragmentary condition, is noiv in possessio7i of the author, ivho has made a very liberal translation from the Latin of the folloiving scene, found in some of the best preserved portions of the manuscript. CHARACTERS: JIMICIUS MACORMIUUS, A Roman Trainer. TODDIO SLOANIO A Popular Roman Jock. SAMBONIUS NIGER A Rubber-Down. PUER STABULI, The Stable-boy. (NOTE— It is a singular thing that while this tragedy is called " Puer Stabuli," " The Stable Boy," and while he is sup- posed to be the principal character, yet he never really ajDpears upon the scene as a speaker in any of the parts or fragments of the Latin manuscript which the author has in his possession. The author believes, however, that this same idea has obtained in several other antique tragedies and comedies, whose writers have named the same after some character who never really appears on the stage in a speaking part.) 128 Racing Rhymes. ACT II. SCENE I. Evenmg, A Track Stable; Stalls ivith Horses, Buckets, Blankets General Racing Stable Paraphernalia. JIMICIUS MACORMICUS. (Alone, anl seated upon an inverted bucket; his head leaning upon his hand; musing in -deep thought.) Jim Mac. — An incubus rides on my mind to- night, Yet can I not unfathom what it is. The stars all tell me something is not right. And still methinks I understand my biz. (Calls) Sambonius! Without, there! [Enter Sambonius Niger.] Sam. — Yes, Mars' Jim. Jim Mac. — Have all the horses had their usu- al feed? Sam. — Yes, sah; deys all done eat fust rate but him (points to a horse); He wouldn't take no oats, indeedy-deed. Jim Mac. — Ha! This is strange! (Aside.) There is some mischief here. (To Sam.) Was any stranger snooping round to-day? And have you kept close watch? Sam. — Yes, sah; dis yere Ole coon hab not one minnit been away. Puer Stabuli. 129 Jim Alac. — Tis well. (Aside.) I feel that I can trust this coon; And yet my mind is sadly ill at ease — He seems so faithful; gets his work done soon. And always tries his very best to please. (To Sam) Tell me now, Sam, who gave yon horse his work? Sam. — Dat dar new stable-boy done tuk him out. Jim Mac. — You mean the one who always tries to shirk The rubbing dow'n? — of whom I've had some doubt Since first he came? Sam. — Yes, sah. Jim Mac. — Where is he now? Sam. — He shootin' craps down yonder by de fence. Jim INIac. — Go send him here [Exit Sambonius Niger.] Jim Mac. — (excitedly). — It would be fine, I vow. If that kid did some funny work com- mence! [A voice is lieard outside singiug. Jimioius listens attentively.] J30 Racing Rhymes. SOxNG. Ta, ra, ra, ra, boom de ay! Ever since I went away There's no jockey fit to play; That's what all the plungers say. While I did with Britons stay All my work was very gay : Wasn't I the boss jock, pray? Ta, ra, ra, ra, boom de ay ! Jim Mac. — That voice! It must be Toddio returned From far off Albion's shores. I'll call him in. To get his rides my soul now long has yearned. (Goes to stable door.) But lo! he comes. [Enter Toddio Sloanio-l Tod. Slo. — How goes it, you old skin? Jim Mac. — Welcome, my Toddio! (Em- braces him.) My heart is glad To see my peerless jockey boy once more! Rome heard with joy of triumphs that you had ,And how your courage made officials sore. Piter Stabnli. 131 Though some, through spite, your noble deeds decried, And said that you were full of red-hot bluff, Yet will you always be the Romans' pride, And when it comes to riding, you're the stuff! Tod. Slo. — Come off, Jimicius, don't give me taff'!' I'm not so o'reen as once I used to be. This guff of yours would make the horses laugh ; But it will not go down with Toddio — see? 'Tis true in AIImou I cut it fat. And swiped a "bood" of Britons' rocks as well. And raised some precious rows — l:>ut what of that? Stow all that blawsted nonsense, man, and tell This rooster what you \vant — for well I know You're after something, or you wouldn't spout This balderdash about "your Toddio" so. ILet loose, Jimicius, and fire it out! 132 Racing Rhymes. Jim Mac. — Ah, cunning Toddio! You are so keen That you divine one's thought before it's. thought. And you can see a thing before it's seen, And you can catch a thing before it's, caught. And you can — Tod. Slo. (impatiently). — Now by all the gods- I swear, Jimicius, let go! or I'll cut stick. Jim Mac. — Nay, nay, dear Toddio, pray heed my prayer; I need your aid to help me turn a trick! Tod. Slo. (aside). — I thought I sized the duf- fer up just right. He wants a ride. (To Jim Mac.) Ha, ha, old buck, I see! You've got some "good thing" bottled-uj> all tight And would, to cinch it, get a ride from me;: Is it not so? Jim Mac. — Yes, Toddio, right you are. I start to-morrow, in the Tiber Stake, An untried colt; and he should win as far As you can throw a stone, if you will take Piier Stabiili. 133 The mount. Your stable has no entry in; So if you're disengaged, why, ride my colt; I'll guarantee you score another win: At springing "dark ones" I still "keep my holt." Tod. Slo. — Well, well, Jimicius — let me see — I'll think The matter over, and decide at morn. Jim Mac. — Nay; say yes now, or I won't sleep a wink; Don't leave me in this state of doul)t for- lorn. Ride, ride m)' colt and we will make a "coup;" You'll drain the cup of glory to the dregs! The colt is good; but were he not, 'tis you Could make him win, e'en had he but three legs! Tod. Slo. — All right, Jimicius, I guess it goes; But I shall want a thousand sesterces Cash down before I mount. You see that those Are my new terms. Besides that, if you please, You'll have to sign my written guarantee Swearing your horse is really good and fit, Or else you pay me, should it not thus be. 134 Racing Rhymes, Five thousand drachmas, furthermore, to- wit. You see in Albion 1 learned some law, And got my ideas up about these things;. My new agreement's drawn without a flaw: All owners sign it — not excepting kings. Jim Mac. — Great Heavens, Toddio your terms are high; Your trip to Albion has made you stiff; But I will go you. None shall say that I About his price with Toddio had a tiff. But some one comes! [Enter Sambonius Niger, excited aud gasping for breath.] Sam. — Good golly! Massa Jim! Dat boy done say he "fixed" dat two-year- colt! He say you w4n no Tiber Stake wid him ! I try to ketch him, but he make a bolt And run away ! Jim Mac. (wildly and despairingly). — Great Jove! Lost! All is lost f That treach'rous boy has robbed me of the stake! If I could catch him, though my life it cost, I'd every bone within his body break! Puer Slabuli. 135 Tricked! Fooled again! It almost drives me mad! The gods to ruin me most surely choose! Now that a mount from Toddio I had There was no way for me that race to losel Tod. Slo. (coolly). — Don't flop up, old Jim- icius, but reflect That though your luck is bad it might be worse. All trainers must these little things expect; And think what would have happened to your purse If you had not found out this job so soon: Your colt then would have started quite unlit, And you'd have had to pay me to the tune Of just five thousand drachmas. So, old man, Let that console you, if there's aught that can. (Going.) I think that I'll be off the town toward. Brace up ! Good night ! Jim Alac. (mechanically). — Good night. (wildly.) All lost! Sam. (mournfully). — Good Lawd! 136 Racing Rhymes. (NOTE— In presenting this curious specimen of antique racing liistory to the reader, it must be uoderstood that the au- thor has modernized to a considerable extent in translating from his fragmentary Latin manuscript. For instance, the song which is sung by Toddio is, in the original, a popular Ro- man ditty of that day having the refrain, "Hie, Haec, Hoc, et Hujus Tres!" the form of which is so similiar to that of "Ta, ra, ra, ra, Boom k to its future, or turn t(^ its past.'*