“But dar dis one wuz, es pooty es it cu’d be, an’ free fur all. An’ jes’ off to de lef’ dey hed de nices’ leetle jedges’ stan’, all painted in silver an’ trimmed wid gold, while de timers’ box sat on de right, wid leetle peep-holes in it an’ pictures ob flyin’ things wid wings jes’ erbove—hosses dat hed broke de records, I ’spec. Jes’ den de ban’ in de ban’ stan’ struck up de sweetes’ music I urver heerd. It went all through my soul an’ made me feel like I wus er chile ergin an’ my good ole mammy, long dead an’ gone, wus singin’ me ter sleep at de cabin on de ole plantashun to de tune ob ‘De Ole Folks at Home.’ Den de perfume floated out like de smell ob de jess’mins I useter smell by de cabin do’, an’ de candles flickered on de quarter posts like de fireflies in de dusk ob my childhood days, an’ all dese things jes’ made me hongry to heah sum gospil ergin. Bimeby sum leetle angel boys, all dressed in white, wid shinin’ collars, cum marchin’ in, singin’ an’ bringin’ programs fur de races in dey han’s—leastwise dat’s whut I tuk ’em to be. I tell you, sah, it wuz gran’, an’ es I sot dar an’ tuck it all in an’ looked at dat shinin’ track wid de golden fence, I sed to myself: “‘Great Scott! but ef dey can’t go fast on dis track, I lakter kno’ whut de yuse ob tryin’ enny yudder!’ “When de music stopped, de feller in de jedges’ stan’ made some ’nouncements, an’ den he ’lowed dat de Bishop ob Tennessee would go er exerbishun mile ergin time, an’ den I heerd de bell ring _tingerling, tingerling_, an’ de ban’ struck up lively lak, an’ de Bishop cum pacin’ in. Soon es I looked at ’im, sez I: “‘He’ll do—he’s er good un! Got mos’ too much riggin’ on ’im to suit my taste, but den ebry man knows whut’s bes’ fur his own hoss. Ef he wuz mine I’d take off dat sweater an’ white blankit wid red embroidery, dem knee boots an’ dat obercheck. His gait’s all right an’ true es clockwork, an’ he don’t need nuffin’ but er pair ob quarter boots an’ fo’-ounce shoes. But dat’s all right,’ I said ergin, ‘eberybody knows whut’s bes’ fur his own hoss, an’ dem fancy riggin’s am pooty, ter-be-sho’.’ “Graceful? He wus es graceful es er swan on er silver lake, an’ es he paced up de quarter stretch to sco’ down I seed dat he wuz gwinter gib de recurd er close call. Down he cum so smooth you cudden’t see his riggin’, an’ es nachul es er eagle draps frum his mountin’ peak in de valley belo’. Dey didn’t hafter say ‘go’ to him but onc’t, an’ den he went erway lak er winged angel on de top spar ob er flyin’ yot.