CHAPTER XVIII—HOW THE BISHOP BROKE THE RECORD By John Trotwood Moore GREELEY, COL., Jan. 10, 1907. Editors Taylor-Trotwood Magazine, Nashville, Tenn. Gentlemen:—I write to ask that in the very interesting “History of the Hals,” now running in your magazine, you will persuade Mr. Moore to include the famous story, “How the Bishop Broke the Record.” This was published years ago in the “_Horse Review_,” and is the best thing of its kind ever written. I know hundreds of people who have said they would like to see it again and it ought to be in the “History of the Hals.” Very truly yours, A. L. CAMP, JR. * * * * * (Old Wash is a Baptist and it was with great difficulty and many misgivings that I induced him to go out to the Episcopal church recently and hear the Bishop of Tennessee preach. The old man went wild over the sermon and this is the peculiar way he took to tell about it.) “Wal, sah, I went in dar an’ sot down in dat part of de gran’stand set off fur de colored folks. I look erroun’ an’ seed leetle bannisters an’ things runnin’ ’roun’ ’bout de pooties’ an’ neates’ mile track you eber seed, wid de fence all painted wid gold an’ lit up wid ’lectric lights. B’utiful pictures hung up in de club house gallery an’ de soft light cum in through de painted winders. I tell you, sah, dese yere Piscolopiums kno’ how to keep up dey church track, if dey do stick to de high-wheel sulky, an’ kinder think dat er record made dar, at dat way ob gwine, will ’title ’em to registration in de final year book quicker’n enny yudder track. An’ it wuz er good un—for it run erroun’ es smooth es er widder’s courtship, an’ it hed bin harrered an’ scraped an’ rolled till it wus es slick as er carpet ob banana peels. “You ain’t nurver noticed how dese church tracks differ frum one ernudder, hes you, Boss?” asked the old man, with a sly smile. “Wal, dey do. Now, ef dat hed bin er Mefodis’ track it wouldn’t er had no fence erroun’ it, kinder free fur all, no money to be paid at de gate, and free lunch fur ebrybody. If it hed er bin a Baptis’ track it would er bin out in some big medder bottom, an’ stid ob bein’ roun’ it would jes’ foller de meanderin’s ob de ribber, handy fur spungin’ off de horses. An’ dey wouldn’t ’low nuffin’ to go on dat track but pacers, either, an’ dey must all be ob de Hal fambly—kinder close kin, yer kno’. De Presberterians would er hed dey track es roun’ es it cu’d be, an’ sech er high, whitewashed fence ’roun’ it dat nobody cu’d see ober it, an’ ’bout ebry ha’f hour dey would run out er big fo’-hoss sprinkler, furever sprinklin’ it, eben fur de yearlin’ races. Oh, it’s funny ter see how dey all differ!” he said.