A. STRANGE COINCIDENCE.

Dominion, Volume 1, Issue 207, 26 May 1908, Page 4

A. STRANGE COINCIDENCE.

A DREAM THAT CAME TRUE. , Ono who was in tho Press room at Waijgttiiui: .Racecourse, ..oq. Sdiurday writes,. 113 ,fol-' IJqwb'w the 11 Chronicle „

Thoro is no doubt that when W. Falioy mounted Arahura 011 Saturday ho felt within his innermost self that 110 would nover again don the silk or cross tho saddle. Yet whoamong the thousands who witnessed the Wangauui Steeplecliaso guessed—or, if they guessed, what did they caro—that Arahura was carrying to his death a jockey who already felt tho sable wings flapping abovo his head? Tho horses aro saddled and promenading the "bird cage," and hundreds of eyes aro fixed upon them in tho liopo of " picking the winner." I am the sole occupant of the Press room balcony, and I, too, gaze upon the promenading horses. Tho jockeys aro unfamiliar to me, and in none of them am I particularly interested. One, however, catches my oye as 110 passes beneath me. The horses complete another circle, and again 'I find myself watching tho face of .a jockey who wears bluo witli canary sleeves and a cardinal cap. What is there about the man divert my attention? I know not, yet again and again I find myself studying him. I look up my official card and find that tho object of my scrutiny is W. Fahoy.' Tho jockey is evidently thinking deeply and taking little heed of tho spectators. A trainer crosses the bird cage and accosts Falioy, who merely nods his head and replies with a monosyllable. Of what is tho jockey thinking? and what is tho picture ill his mental vision? Who knows? The horses go to the post and aro started 011 their journey. I see my jockey riding far in tho rear of the field, and by aiid by I see him fall'.' The crowd, however, are not troubled about the fallen, and discuss frantically the chances of the remaining contestants. I, too, follow the fortunes of- tho others, and then, blissfully ignorant of-the tragedy that has been enacted, make my way to tho dining-room. On returning to the Press room I ask who was the injured jockey?( "Billy Fahey." . "Good heavens, you don't say so. How is lie?" "Dead, is the staggering answer, and my . mind flashes back to the incident of a few short minutes before. I recount my experience to some friends, who may or may not think much of it., Liiter in the evening the problem which confronted me when my attention 'was. drawn, to the jockey is solved. I meet a man who was with Fahev the previous' night. Ho asked for a match, and the jockoy, handing him a box, said, ' 1 There you are, old man, take that; it's the last tiling I shall ever -give you. I am going to ride Arahura to-morrow, but it will bo my last race. I dreamt tho other night, that I would bo kicked during the race.'.' ' The other laughed, and the fateful words wcro forgotten till the news of the, accident became, known. But did Fahey forget his' dream ?. As. I think of him riding slowly round the bird cage, I answer—No.