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September 25, 1912.
My Racing Reminiscences.
By Danny Maher (the famous Jockey).
They Two.
By Lelly Blngen.
I can't say that I remember very much a boot I'm harking ahead too quick. though—I must
it, but I was born at Hartford on 29tih October, take a poll. My first really eatitfactory year oa
Gomo twonty-mno ego. Aa a youngster I a jockey warn in 1888, and at Brighton Bench I
warn always just crazy about horses, and, indeed, had an extraordinary good meeting, riding no
aa eooo aa I really began to understand yanything lem than sixty winners in thirty days. On one
about "careers in life" I remember fuB well that day, by the way, I waa ftmt part the tick in five
I waa fired with a most lively ambition to become mocn, apd finished scccmd in the Hat event on
a jockey. the card.
My parents, fortunately, made no objection to my choice of mlling, ami so, at the age of seven, I waa apprenticed to my uncle, Mr. J. Daly, to be "educated" aa a jockey. No belter tutor could one possibly wish for, and under "Father Bill's" owe, em w* wed to cm* him, I leant a lot of *""g- about the art of riding that I have since found uncommonly useful. Which reminds mo that "Father Bill" has boon, very successful m manufacturing jockeys, for among his pupils, in addition to your humble servant, have been "Snapper" Garrison and Mcl/ichlan.
For several years I rode good exercise gallops, and took many a hard toss, but,'after all, fails are all ia the day's march from a jockey's point of view, and ft is safe to say that no ' Knight of the Pigskin" has ever do-no much good at (he game until after ho has served a pretty severs flpprontioofhip.
My first ride in an actual raoo waa in 1804 on \ Fagot, a horse belonging to ray uncle. Most people on the coarse, I boNeve, were under the imprecision that I had just "got there," but the man in the box—and, after aid, he is in inine hundred and ninety-nine rases out of a thousand the beat judge—placed mo second, and, in any ooao, the raoo was a most exciting one, heads onSy separating tho first three.
However, I was not long before I broke my duck, my first winning mount being on Phofbus, at Providence, Rhode Island." This time I made no mistake, but won easily, much to my uncle's delight, for he always took tho greatest personal interest m my progives in the saddle, and nothing was too much trouble for him to do which, in his opinion, would be likely to tend to make ma a proficient jockey.
I signed with Troubridge and ArkdU in 1890, and in the following year I rode for Lew Elsmore, while in the fall of that year I was engaged by Dave Gideons.
As far aa I can -remember, by tho way, I have never been actually knocked out through a fall from a horeo, though, to be sure, I have broken my arm and my collar-bone, and on ono occasion I had a nasty faJS in front of a field of twenty runner*. A tumble of that kind is, believe me, not a good sensation at all.
II was op/ Sheep* Heaa'a Bay track, a grams track, thai this upsnt occurred. I waa riding a horse called Sailor King, belonging to Mr. Jennings, in tho Groai Eastern Handicap, and in a false start I and O'Connor collided, with the. perhaps, natural ft suit that wo both took a bad toa«, and, indeed, I waa so scveraJy knocked a beat that I was unab'o to take part in the race.
Another nasty accident which has come my way ooourred to me on the Gravel end track. My mount wis Captain, and" this time I oamo a purler in front of eighteen horses, but, somehow or other. I managed to escape without any serious
This is going ahead a bit, but talking of tumbles oalls to my mind the motor smash I had some soven years ago near tho pactty Ling field curse. This "contretemps" wis caused by the blinding dust, which waa so thick that at the moment the crash came—and you may tako it from roe, *t wasn't half a crash' cither—it was an cbsolute impossibility to sec a yard in front of one's toso —hence the collision. Fortunately, however, Kcmmy Cannon arrived-on tho »o.-ne and poked me up, and although I waa to all practical intenta and purjKeoe "out," yet I have a lively recollection that I kept, on coming to and going off again. But throe weeks in the Catcrham Cottage Ilea pital worked wonders witi me, and the ex coll out omm I waa taken of there, and the good eon-" atitutiom, coupled with my physical fitness, soon restored me to health again.
I won the Brooklyn Handicap fcr Mr. W. H. Clarke on Bannister, in 1898, and another tm» portant handicap I carried off in Amrrioa was the Great Metropolitan at Morris Park, which I took on Etheibcrt, with a bit to spare.
n America ia the average is worth
The most valuable Futurity Stakes, which roughly about £10,000. I never succeeded in winning this event, though the first time I rode in it, on a mare cdEed High Degree, I finished second to Martinmas, the nearest I ever got in the- Futurity.
On the whole, I think, there is no doubt that stakes in England have been of greater value than in America, but I am Inclined to think that way over the water the public o*n see the races better, and, maybe, in some slight degree the train arrangements for conveying race goers to the course are better, but we never have had such tremendous crowds on a track as gather on Epsom Downs on Derby otr Oaks Day.
Which reminds me that when I came over here to ride one of the first things that struck me was tba swollen* behaviour of your huge crowds. In America, too, racecourse audiences are very orderly, and in some ways are kept under better control, but in England it seems to me that the real true, giltredged sporting feeling is innate in a race crowd, and I have never once seen the slightest suggestion of unsportsmanlike behaviour at any of the meetings at which I have ridden. Surely no better example of the "whiteness" of British sportsmen, and the cleanliness of BritJsh sport, could be required.
The American style of riding had been pretty geuormny adopted hers shea I got over, and races were run from end to end just as they were in America, although I have often sinoo heard that this style of riding was quite a novelty, and that for years and years the "waiting behind and oomsng with a "sharp burst at the finish" method of race-riding wa. all the rage. There is, how-ever, I think, little doubt that resulta worked out much truer by coming right through with a horse than in the old-fashionod style.
Next week the famous jockey will contribute eouio further rtaninisoonces.
I ho part which ia being played in the great struggle now pmowdiog in tho Slatea br Mr. *4afta "big smile" r,WAR AGAINST RATS.
j TTy; light in tho United States against rats, as protection from tlie ima<«ion of the bubonic | plagijo, is the subject of warning and advice I from the public health service in a report iuat i circulated. The report (says the "New York , Tribune") gives methods " of kUling and quarantining against rate, and draws attention U) the fact that the plague is "primarily a disease erf rodents, and secondarily and acci | dentally a disease of men." T&ls is emphasised
the following jingle:—
I "First, plague in rata, and then in fleas; Then plague in man, and qu ck decease; \o rats, no fleas, no plague lisease."
She was just, thirty the first time she met Paul Seton at the Writers' Club.
"Is this your first viait to our dubP" she asked him. as they steered their way with" cups and cokes to a quiet corner. "Our Friday house team are a bit of. an institution, and we always try to draw lions and lionesses to our den, though, to tell you the truth, we find as a rule the lioness takes mors kindly to our petting than the lion."
"I don't wonder. Do you k.iow it was quite an ordeal for me to accept Miss Vernon's invitation to-day, and if I had not met her in the doorway I think at the last moment I should have turned tail and fled, for a hundred women drinking tea and chattering away are rather formidable en bloc, however charming taken separately, he continued, pointing hie remark with a eompie-henaivo glance at the trim little figure by his side.
"It's only an idea that wo are fearsome creatures," she returned, laughingly; "we are all workers—some from choice, more from necessity; but Fridays we blossom out into dissipation. Next week I shall bo hostess, so I hope you will beard us again. I ahall be so pleased if you will oome as my guest." *
"I've been very jolly here, and I shall certainly come next week if you'll have me," he said at length, coming reluctantly from his corner as the guests gradually disappeared and the" tea table began to wear a deserted sir. 1 ah all bring you a copy of my book if I may, ainoe you are kind enough to say you would like to read it."
"Indeed I shall," she answered heartily, "especially if you will put my name and your signature in it. I have a weakness for relumes signed by their authors, and if one dsy you *v*r come to see me in my elevated digging* I will show you my favourite shelf lined with autographed books. Underneath that shelf hangs a thick curtain," she continued, "where cups and saucers and tins of biscuits jostle manuscripts and magazines. I'di not often at home 'or a meal, but sometimes I make tea for myself and enjoy a light repast whilst I'm getting through
"It sounds attractive, and certainly not monotonous," he said as he bunted lor his umbrella amid a serried row of atioka and umbrellas, and then they said good bye, and Margaret went back to the writing room to turn out a column of feminine gossip on modes and
Tho acquaintance thus begun in chance fashion steadily ripened, and Margaret Bryant found herself looking forward with pleasure to those days when she met Paul So ten. He fulfilled his promise of bringing his book, and she managed to draw a good deal of notice to it with a paragraph here and a criticism there, and was not a little pleased at being able to do tho young author a good turn.
Life wont by too swiftly for Margaret Bryant to paijse and weigh her new found happiness, but half unconsciously she strove to make the very best of herself in tho** days. The neat tailor-made gown in which she wont her round fitted her trim little figure to perfection, her hat was becoming, her gloves and shoes irreproachable, and with that now flush on her cheeks, that new.
nouneed, and something in her whole outward appearance seemed to correspond with that secret joyousnem so deep down in her heart. \
And then one day in oruel fashion the awakening came. She was sitting at the club reading tho papers, and cose to a door that opened in on a second smaller room two siwters of tho pen were at work. Margaret was half hidden from sight, and steeped in her papers, and the first words that fell on her cans conveyed no special meaning
"She's thirty five if she ia a day," said the first
to look her best and youngest since she and Paul Seton have been so much together "
Then. Margaret heard, and a hot flu#h rose In her cheeks. It would have been difficult to leave tho room without tho speakers catching sight of her. and cowardice—or perhaps a desire to hear the thing out—held her rooted to h«'r seat.
"You don't think that will come to anything do you.'' said the first speaker contemptuously, "she's oertainlv devoted enough to h'm. and let's the young fellow see it. but she', far loo old for him. getting on the shelf I consider, whilst Paul 8«Von ran pick and choose." •
Then tho conversation drifted from Paul Seton to another, and still Margaret "at on with the hot flush faded fnm her cheeks and a sudden »ick faint feeling making the room sWm around
At length she crept across the rem and out of (be dob. eonariooa only of one thing, the desiro to be st home, alone, to think it all out.
"My God, is it she aeked herself,
pitifu-ly, the hot tears searing her cheeks, "hsve I so far forgotten/myself as to give my heart cparfced and made it patent to tho wh 4c world, or is it but a. malicious invention, their idle goesip. bred from nothing," but the more Margaret searched hsr heart the more a sense of-Truth in their words came home to her.
go on being friends, for life wou'd be a blank without him, bub be will never guess that be t> anything but a kindly comrade."
And so when Paul Seton next called upon Her, he wondered deeply at a certain restraint thai ■ appeared in Margaret's manner, and day by day it grew, till at length he began to speculate aa to what waa the barrier that rose up between
"Miss Bryant, have I done anything to offend
"Offend me, quite Impossible. you must have imagined It," she answered jerkily.
"Then if I have not incurred your dlsples**r* and you are on your homeward way. may I join you P he^sald, and Margaret perforce could only
"I'm afraid I haven't much time for a chat," she said lamely as they passed the Law Courts and turned up Chancery Lane, To drlvingty
"And you look quite fagged. Never mind, I shall come in and make you a bet cup of tea and some toast, and you needn't speak a word to me tOl you are quite finished."
They toiled up the stairs to her rooms and Margaret coaxed the fire Into a blame and hand** Paul the kettle before she aat down to her desk. -Hie truth to tell, her article Mid have waited till the morrow,—(pit she did not wish him to
Presently he brought the tea steaming hot to hw side, and a plate of crisply made toast, and looked over her shoulder. "Why, jou've written hardly anything." he said, "do turn round and remt for half an hour and go baefc to your work
"That's better," he said, cheerily, drawing up a chair for her bedside the fire, you know Tv* a bone to pick with you."
"Impossible, I feel too battered to pick bsek again.' she said weakly, and then dropped his bantering voice and went on. » J
"What have I done that you have thrust me OnV. one side these past weeks, you know 1 would mo* do anything to vex you, Margaret, I cannot under-stand It. don't you know, my dear one, how I have learnt to love you. Since that first Mm* wbeh we met at the Writers', every day you have grown dearer."
The tired woman sitting there at her fireside had her momenta of triumph ae the honest m**tf voice went steadily on, "if they could but know, she thought, those cruel ones whose Idle tongue* had poisoned life for . her, then she fcuowsrad
thing that been so pl«
"Margaret." he broke In vthemently, "I want it to be something much more than a friendship, -listen to me dear—" but she shook her hsad.
"My friend, my kind friend, spars us b^th."
"Does that mean you cannot care for maf
"Yon never loved me then, ail this whll* I waa deceiving myself," aiid his votes waa full of pais.
A minute Margaret hesitated, and a piano organ below struok up cheerily in the music:
"When we are married)
Ah, what will you doP"
He didn't really love her. she told herself, thrusting back that sudden glimpse of happiness, it wa: just pity that spoke, he waa offering her his hand because he knew he had her heart.
"You have made a mistake: there has been, . there only oan be, friendship between us."
"For one thing because I feel I am much oidsr than you are," recklessly. "Do you know"—ah* /.pared herself nothing—that I waa thirty the day we met, and yeai are only six and twenty."
"If you can make much a ridiculous excuse aa that," ho said, his »oice' suddenly growing sLff and cold, "I realise that indeed you do not care -
He rose up from his chair, and Mar par at kept hor eye* down on the Are. She would not eon. tradict him. and if be liked to put he* refusal d< wo to indifference that excuse would serve aa well as any other.
"Then it is only left for me to say good bye," he aad, going siowly towards th* door.
"Good-bye, dear friend; don't (* angry with
m Jt " mil A Afliil arvfltw
sho said, softly.
Jio paused at the door snd then oame back with an iu»puJa>vc stride and knelt down em the hearth I*aid* bur, taxing her two hands in hie. "Margaret, my dear one, I don't believe it; someone has come between us, and I will not believe you mean what you say. L**k up st me, dear; till you can say straight to me, Paul, I do not care for jfou/ I will not tako no for an answer.
He held her hands so tightly that she could almost have exclaimed with pain, and then slowly, stead, ly she lifted her eyes to him to say the cruel wools, and thrust her happiness behind her, but his eyes were looking eearchiogly into hers, his warm breath fanned her obcek, and somehow before she knew how it was, be bad drawn her into hi* oiins and pressid hot kissos on her fafa.

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