Horse racing -- Fiction; Thoroughbred horse -- Fiction
"'Ah don't feel qualified to answer yoh question, suh,' he says. 'Ah
believe the blind pursuit and worship of riches is almost entirely
responsible. It has bred a shallowness and superficiality in and
towahds the finah things of life. But the historian will answer yoh
question at a later day. He can bring a calmness to the task which is
impossible to one surrounded and bewildered by it all.'
"I ain't any wiser'n I was, but I don't say nothin'. The old man acts
like he's studyin' about somethin'.
"'Who owns the hawss that just trialed three-quahtahs in fohteen?' he
says, after while.
"'Jim Sigsbee up at Cynthiana,' I says.
"'Is Mr. Sigsbee awaheh of the--method you pursue with regahd to
falsely stimulating his hawss?' says ole man Sanford.
"'Well, I guess yes!' I says. 'Jim won't bet a dollar on him unless
he's got the hop in him.'
"'Ah shall write to him,' says ole man Sanford, 'n' beats it down the
track toward the gates.
"I don't see him fur over a week. I figger he's sore at me fur dopin'
hosses. It's a funny thing but, I'm a son-of-a-gun if I don't miss the
ole duck. From the way they talk I see the boys kind-a miss him, too.
"'I wonder where ole Pierpont's at?' I hears Chick say to Skinny.
'Gone East to see one of his hosses prepped fur the Brooklyn, I guess.'
"'Naw,' says Skinny; 'you got that wrong. He's goin' to send a stable
to Urope, 'n' Todd Sloan's tryin' to get a contrac' from him as
exercise-boy. Ole Pierpont's watchin' Todd work out a few so he kin
size up his style.'
"I've wrote Jim Sigsbee Trampfast's ready, but I don't enter the hoss
'cause I know Jim wants to come over 'n' bet a piece of money on him.
I don't hear from Jim, 'n' I wonder why.
"One day I'm settin' in front of the stalls 'n' here comes ole man
Sanford down the line.
"'Why, hello, Mr. Sanford!' I says. 'We sort-a figgered you'd quit us.
Things ain't gone right since you left. The boys need you to keep 'em
on their toes.'
"'Ah have not deserted you intentionally, suh,' he says. 'Since Ah saw
you last an old friend of mine has passed to his rewahd. The Hono'able
James Tullfohd Fawcett is no moh, suh--a gallant gentleman has left us.'
"'That's too bad,' I says. 'Did he leave a family?'
"'He did not, suh,' says ole man Sanford. 'Ah fell heir to his entiah
estate, only excepting the silvah mug presented to his beloved mothah
at his birth by Andrew Jackson himself, suh. This he bequeathed to the
public, and it will soon be displayed at the rooms of the Historical
Society named in his last will and testament.'
"'Did you get much out of it?" I says.
"'He had already endowed me with a friendship beyond price, suh,' he
says. 'His estate was not a large one as such things go--some twelve
hundred dollahs, I believe.'
"'That's better'n breakin' a leg,' I says.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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