THE KING'S RACING STABLES

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIV, Issue 49, 19 August 1911, Page 8

THE KING'S RACING STABLES

A VISIT TO KGERTON" lIOI.SK There is no better equipped racing stable in. the world than that which shelters the Royal horses at Kgerton House, Newmarket. The trainer of Horses in real life is very different from the straw-chewing, bucolic and often bibulous individual he is usually portrayed to be in fiction. Mr. Richard Marsh, for instance, who rules at Kgerton House, is a dapper man of middle height, with a firm jaw, cleanshaven face, and keen eyes. To meet him casually in the street one would take him for a prosperous lawyer or merchant rather than one so closely identified with the Turf.

Kgerton House stands in one of the pleasantest parts of Newmarket, within easy reach of the training ground. The house itself is a handsome square building, with half-timbered gables. A large and beautifully-kept garden surrounds it, and there is a spacious paddock in front. In this paddock such giants of the turf as Persimmon and Diamond Jubilee have roamed at will, and it may be that in the low range of stables just to be discerned at the back of the house there is another horse that will carry the Royal colors as prominently. At the present time the King has 23 horses being trained here, of which 10 are two-year-olds. The majority of these young horses were bred at the Royal Stud Farm at Sandringham. The stables are beautifully kept, and are quite models of their kind. Needless to say, everything about them is spotlessly clean, as it needs to be, seeing that the probable value of the whole horses under Mr. Marsh's care is not far short of a quarter of a million sterling. Each horse has its own loosebox, which is tiled round in artistic fashion, with pleffly of clean straw upon the floor, and the metal fittings polished until they shine like so much crystal. The name of the occupant of the stall is neatly placed over its manger.

VISITING THE HORSES. The stables form a quadrangle, round a yard, and it is a very pretty sight to stand in the centre of this upon a spring morning and to watch the long string of horses, each beautifully groomed, and with its skin shining like satin, being led out to exercise. Mr. Marsh has to be astir every morning at an hour that seems perfectly preposterous to a townsman, while the night is usually far advanced before he hag finished. His first task is to visit the horses and see that all is going on well with them. He can tell almost at a glance if anything is wrong with any of his charges, and can usually decide precisely what is the matter with them, and how best they may be cured. This visit to the stables is rather a long proceeding, since it is necessary to halt for a few moments at each' box and give directions to the head lad as to the feeding, exercise, etc., of the different animals, while those horses which are to take part in races in different parts of the country on the following day have to be properly sheeted up and sent off to the railway station, each under the charge of a lad, whd will not allow them out of his sight until they return to Egerton House. Before this tour is completed the veterinary surgeon has probably arrived upon one of his periodic inspections, and this necessitates another visit to the horses to see that they are quite sound, and that there are no symptoms of colds or other illnesses in the stud.

DICK MARSH'S PRIVATE ROOM. Mr. Marsh is then free to return to his room, and there deal with the large number of letters that demand attention day by day. He trains for half a dozen or so other owners in addition to the J King, and he has to consider carefully each of their desires and instructions, and to determine how best these may be carried into effect. He has also accounts for forage, travelling expenses, shoeing, saddlery, and so forth to go through and apportion to the different owners.

Supposing that his presence is not demanded at a race meeting that afternoon, "Dick" Marsh —as he is known to every supporter of the turf, from the highest to the lowest—is free to visit the training grounds where his horses are at work. The training of each animal is quite distinct, according to the events for which it is entered, and no two horses can be handled exactly alike. Work that would make a Derby winner of one might cause another to break down entirely, or to turn "sour" in its temper. It is only by the most careful and painstaking study of each horse's temperament and idiosyncrasies that a trainer can hope to get the best out of it.

Mr. Marsh's private room is one of the most interesting apartments of its kind that could possibly be met with. Upon every side are to be seen relics of famous racehorses and mementoes of races that have now entered into the history of the British Turf. There are, for instance, the plates (as the light shoes that racehorses wear ' are technically known) that Persimmon wore when he defeated Mr, Leopold de Rothschild's fine horse St. Frusquin in the Derby of 1896, after one of the fiercest struggles that even Epsom has ever witnessed, and so placed the first "blue ribbon of the turf" to the credit of the late King Edward. Mr. Marsh retains—as might be expected—very pleasant recollections of that famous afternoon ,and he tells how liis Majesty—then, of course, only Prince of Wales—literally fought his way through a frantic crowd of cheering spectators to where his trainer was standing patting the horse's neck. "Bravo, Dick!" said the Royal owner, his face beaming with smiles. "This is capital. I shall not forget it." Nor did he, as a handsome silver cup that now adorns Mr. Marsh's sideboard, and is probably his most cherished possession, amply justifies.

Tt is almost impossible to count the number of presents that Mr. Marsh has received during his long experience as a trainer from grateful owners. One of the most, recent of these is a cup presented to him by the Earl of Derby as a souvenir of the success that attended the horses of King George when they were leased to his lordship last season.