I. THE RACECOURSE.

Waikato Times, Volume XXVI, Issue 2128, 27 February 1886, Page 2 (Supplement)

I. THE RACECOURSE.

" KitKcr KVAlin ! Kyrect kyard ! Names weights and cullers of the n-d.urs." Tho reader, by emphasising strongly the conjunction, nnd gi\ing a decided nasal twang t<> tho entire ]>hr;we, will doubtless cxulaim " Surely thi-> is familiar a.s household words." Suddenly a prleam of intelligence illumining his classic features, will acquaint the anna I observer with tho fact that a chord of memory's lyre has been .stiuck within that reader's manly breast. Wo represent the casual onlooker; it is our duty or pleasure, ir both, to tiacn that gleam of intelligence to its source; to follow its various twistines and turnings ; to examine each ray that scintillates from the main body, and, lastly, to note into what other real ni3 of thought it carries him of the classic featuies and manly breast. (By way of explanation it would, perhaps, bo an well to mention that it is our custom to consider all our readers to bo of this classic and manly type, provided said readora have no objection to our custom. Wo always do it on principle,—a principle which often obtains readers where otherwiso we should have none. If anyono demurs to thw classification, let him mould himself in any form to which he may be most partial, and imagine that we address ourselves to that form, and that form alone. But, to use a French e.xpreaiion, "We will return to our mutton.") Our reader soliloquises : " Krect kyard ! Krect kyard!" Why, to be sure! Boxing-day; racecourse, gay colours, well-groomed horses, fair faces, green fields, loud-voiced bookmakers, ices, totalisator dividend* (how few I struck !), games of chance, soda and limejuice, lunch, claret-cup. " Names, weights and cullers of the ri dairs;" why, certainly. Brandy and soda. " Two to one yer can't pick et." How vivid it all seems. Brandy and soda; so-hic-sosa an'-hic-bran'y ; bran-hic-bran-hic; cab; home, intoxicated. •' Krect kyard ! Kroct kyard J" These are the main ideas registered by that intelligent gleam. We will now carefully analyse the rays emanating from it, examining each in detail. 1

Ray No. I.—A game of chance, so-called, notwithstanding that it is a game »i no chance for all outsiders, who, as a means of gentle relaxation, participate therein. What do we see ? An innocent-looking arrangement of painted oil-cloth, deal boards, numbered m.irbles, the whole surmounted by a diminutive awning, ostensibly to protect the public from the heat of old Sol, but wholly inadequate to accomplish its mission. What a strange machine it seams to contemplative man! Whilfit pondering over the amusements of mankind, a voice in facetiouß accents strikes upon the listener's ear. With very little search it may be ascertained that the proprietor of this game of chance is also possessor of the facetious voice. Attracted by curiosity, the listener approaches the deal boards and diminutive awning, when he, in conjunction wilh others, is gratuitously informed by an attenuated atom of humanity, in a black coat and with a greasy neck ribbon, that "speculation is the footstool to fortune," that "those who don't speculate can't accumerlate"; and, with a generosity characteristic of the Baronees BurdcttCoutte, that so freely as he loses so freely he pays. The curious listener is furthermore considerately notified that if he does'nt lose he need'nt pay. As a corollary it might be added that those who don't play don't lose, or that those who do play can't win. He fully ju&tih'cs his lirat assertion, viz., that 'speculation is tho footstool to fortune,' by pocketing the money that unsuspecting bystanders havo been induced to invent. It is also unmistakably shown that, on his machine, at all events, those who ' don't speculate' do ' accumerlate,'as he, speculating nothing, d'tes all tho accumulative business. His promise to pay ' so fiecly' as he loses has not n chanco of exemplification, as he never loses, except in a jocular manner to bin confederates. Tho principle of this game of chance (?) is a very simple ono. It is this : That no matter what marbles you may draw, the combination of their numboi.s is such that the result is invariably a blank. There is one 400-1 chanco which the proprietor informs you in strict confidonce is very difficult to obtain. It is so romote that it has never yet been drawn, and, it may be truthfully asserted, never will be. This game is known by the alluring appellation of 'Spanish Hazard.' Perhaps the multiplicity of these tables in their land may account for the national poverty of the Spaniards, or the name may have been chosen in derision. If so let the Spanish Government prosecute our attenuated friend, or charge him 10 per cent, on all takings. This game is but one of many, and by George! the saddling bell. IIAY No. 2. —The saddling paddock. Here you are reader, we are with you contemplating, observing those wizened-look-ing, old-fashioned, pretty-faced little specimens of tho human race, each decked out in his colours; each looking 'cute enough to defeat the old gentleman himself. Note their perky, self-assertive looks, on whose strength you dare n«tt contradict what thoy seem to imply, namely, that they know all about it. Here is a group gathered round a favourite, carefully watching each movement ou the part of the trainer, who is adjusting breast-plate, girths, and sursingle. ' Ain't 'c a topper,' remarks a would-be horsey youth in tight trousers, and with a silver horse-shoe pin. His remarks are addressed to the trainer of the 'topper,'with which great man he aspires to have a speaking acquaintence. The trainer, however, lets the remark pass as if unheard. Neverthel«ss the youth's great theme of conversation for the nevt three months is the tip ' Bucephalus,' given him by Grassfield, the trainer, with whom he is on intimate terms. Here aie two •acquaintances of the budding-manhood order; of wheat are they conversing? 'Say, Chawlcs, what's a good thing for this race, eh?' 'Nothing in it but ' Coronet,' old man. Got the straight tip, yer know.' It was ultimately proved that 'Coronet' was the only thing out of it. What is that hoarse shouting among yon seething mass of people? ,Only tho bookmaking brotherhood laying odds to the talent. What are the cries? 'I'll lay six to four on the field.' ' I'll lay the double ? I'll lay the double? What'll ycr \ivc sir?' 'Five to one 'Coronet?" 'Three to ono ' Matchlock!" &c. Observe that gentle-manly-looking man in the silk hat, standing close behind that rough-coated old-un in corduroys. They are both owners; the rough looking man is the gentleman, tho other a blackleg. Never back Messonier's horses, ho only runs straight when it suits his book. The horses are out; the demoniacal yells of the bookmakers arc increasing; the crowd from the saddling paddock is gradually wending its way to the stand; a little hurrying now on the part of laggards to obtain coierns of vantage on steps, rails, —anywhere; all eyes fixed on the starter's flag; a hoarse cry from a thousand voices. "They're off ?'—and that intelligent gleam sends forth its next scintillation in. Ray No 3.—The race. A confused mass of gay colour on the far side of the course, which mass gradually lengthens itself out, each colour assuming a definite hue, and we are aware of the fact that tho race of the day has commenced in real earnest. Eyes right! Eyes left! Right about face 1 Everywhere eager, expectant faces, in many instances wearing an anxious, strained expression, as though the fato of a nation depended on the issue of tho great race of the meeting. Thud! thud!! thud !!! Hero they come, all in a cluster, passing tho stand for the first time. Each goiner in 'grand form,' to borrow a phrase from tho gentleman on my left, he of the eye-glass and buff spats. So they are, all except 'Coronet,' the 'straight tip' given by 'Chawles' to his friend. A short space, then, "They're in the straight!' ' " Progress " wins !' ' " Conspirator " has it!' " Conspirator " in a canter!' 'No! "Matchlock" hands down. " Matchlock!" ' What about "Bucephalus? 1 What'll yor lay " Bucephalus ?" ' These, and various other exclamations, send an undefinable thrill of excitement through our tissues, notwithstanding our resolution to be calm. Why is it ? Is it by reason of tho strong accent laid on the penultimate or antepenultimate of the last word in each sentence, or do the mere words themselves affect ns so strongly ? Wo can confidently assert that, if in our ordinary humour, any one should ask us "What about Bucephalus?" we should reply with thenueiy, '• Well, what about him ?" We don't attempt such levity in the present instance, we are only raised to a higher pitch of excitement by that very ordinary question, but know not the ' why or wherefore.' The race is over, and we congratulate ourselves on not having laid against 'Bucephalus,' for ' Bucephalus' wins. Cheer upon choor for Spindle, tho jockey, or, as our friend

of the ' Kyauls ' has it, the ' ri-dair ;' cheer upon cheer for (tl.i^fields, tho tinnier ; cheer upon cheer fm Pillbox, the owner ; beer upon bear for eveiybody, tho public; so much beer for us that \\e-<eum to drift hazily and helple-^ly towaidn scintillation. Kay No. 4.— Aftei th- r.icc. We, that is you and I, leader, are journeying homew.irdn, on the evening of the c\cntful Bo\ing-day. We havo been exceptionally fortunate in our investments, — winning all day. Yet it .scoiiih strange that, on searchinp our ixirnon*, though we left hmne with A 'fiver,' we can discover but eighteen pence in the corner of a ragged, neglected pocket. This sots u.s moralising. Does not a love for racing denote a depraved t.i>to t A voice answer*, ' Certainly not. What is life but ono continual raco ! Wo are tho horses ; our ' ri-dairs ' arc the troubles of life we h.ivo to cairy over the course — some of us bcincj weighted more heavily than others ; death is the goal wo are all racing to ; and let us hope that, after passing the j'udgo's box, we may all be ' weighed in ' and found not wanting.