Fox hunting; Horses; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Personal narratives
Helena was a pestiferous swamp, worth more than an active campaign to
our enemies, filling our hospitals, and furrowing the levee bank with
graves. It was too hot for much drilling, and we kept our better horses
in order by daybreak races. With the local fever feeling its way into
my veins, I was too listless to care much for any diversion; but Ike
came to me one evening to say that he "reckoned" Ruby was as good a
horse as anybody had in the "camps," and he might as well take a hand
in the games. I told him I had no objection to his being run, if he
could find a suitable boy, but that both he and I were too heavy for
race-riding.
"I don't weigh only about a hundred and a half," said the ambitious man.
"Well, suppose you don't, that is ten pounds too much."
"I reckon a man can ride ten pound lighter 'n he is if he knows how
to ride; anyhow, if Rube can't skin anything around here, I don't know
nothin' about horses."
"Ike, did you ever run that horse?"
"Well, Colonel, now you ask me, I did jest give Dwight's darkey a
little brush once."
Conquering my indignation and my scruples, I went over, just for the
honor of the establishment, and made up a race for the next day.
I have seen crack race-horses in my time, but I never saw more
artistic riding nor more capital running than that summer morning on
the River Road at Helena, just as the sun began to gild the muddy
Mississippi. The satisfaction of this conquest, and the activity with
which new engagements were offered by ambitious lieutenants, who little
knew the stuff my man and horse were made of, kept off my fever for
some weeks; but I steadily declined all opportunity of racing with
horses outside of our command, for I had been reared in a school of
Puritan severity, and had never quite overcome my convictions against
the public turf. A corporal of an "Injeanny rege_ment_" took occasion
to crow lustily--so I heard--because "one of them French coveys" was
afraid to run him a quarter for five dollars. It appeared that a
cleanly European was always supposed by this gentry to be French; and
in the army at large I was better known by the company I kept than by
my New England characteristics.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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