The Taylor-Trotwood Magazine, Vol. IV, No. 4, January 1907Various
History
The Taylor-Trotwood Magazine, Vol. IV, No. 4, January 1907
Various
American literature -- 20th century -- Periodicals; Southern States -- Periodicals
[NOTE.—The History of this remarkable family of horses was begun in the
first number of _Trotwood’s Monthly_, and has proven to be so popular
that nearly all of the back numbers of the magazine have been bought up
and bound by the admirers of this great family of horses. Orders are
coming in daily, often as many as ten to twenty, for a complete set of
last year’s _Trotwood_. We regret, therefore, that we will be unable to
furnish back numbers much longer. This History will be continued during
the year, including the story of Brown Hal, Star Pointer, Mattie Hunter,
Hal Dillard, Old Brooks, Star Hal, Hal B., and many others now known to
fame. It will close with a beautiful tribute to the life and the career
of Edward F. Geers, the “Silent Man from Tennessee,” who is to the turf
world what Napoleon was to war.—Pubs. TAYLOR-TROTWOOD.]
THE REVERY RACE
Quadrupe dante putrem sonitu quatit ungula campum.—_Virgil._
In days agone,
Upon that shore which mortals call the Unreturning Past,
What bursts of speed from gallant steed have come like bugle blast!
What battles have been fought and won, what names to fame been given,
What mighty shout has put to rout the thunder notes of heaven,
When, coming in his pride and scorn
The old horse won in days agone!
In days to come,
Upon that shore where Memory’s twilight skies hang o’er,
Oft will the old horse race as he has never raced before!
His silent ghost will come to post while spectral grandstands listen
To the noiseless beat of his phantom feet—as the silver moonbeams
glisten
On the gray-haired horseman who tells it o’er—
How the old horse won in days of yore!
—_John Trotwood Moore._
“Seeing an article in a turf paper about pacing horses being natural
swimmers,” remarked a friend to Trotwood a few days ago, “reminds me of
an experience I had a dozen years ago down in the piney woods of Alabama,
that convinced me that whether a pacer is a born swimmer or not, one
thing is certain, the trotting horse I was driving that February day
didn’t act like he was a South Sea Islander, by any means.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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