The herald and mail. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1873-188?, 1874-10-02
POOLING q
How Doctor UnderWOOd:E Sara
toga in n Hetting Way.

How Doctor rUnderwOOd.E Sara,
toga in IA BETTING Way.
George Alfred Townsend has beer
writing some saucy letters to the Chi
cago Tribune, descriptions of scenes
and incidents about the racing course
at Saratoga. We clip the following
the confusion of his last letter
Look at those rows of chairs, filled
with an orderly audience of all social
shades and motives. Underwood.
voice is going like kettle-drum
Going, going, there gone, Madge
is sold for 81, ,125. Now how much an
| bid for Fadladeen? Fifty dollars fo1
Fadladeen. Only $50 for Fadladeen
the child of Poteen, whose dam was
Dublin Brogue, whose father was the
! great SnOrting Arabian. And what am
1 bid for Fadladeen? Oh, he is q
foiDe horse. Fifty-five dollars, one
hundred, two hundred and fifty Oh,
| now, upon my worrud, that is too bad
for Fadladeen. Three hundred and
twenty-five for the grandson of the great
Snorting Arabian.
-Four hundred," says a quiet voice,
and gets him. The man with the quiet
voice is great turf authority. He was
bred amongst racers, colonel in the I'm
ion army, author of a standard stud
book in which he put fifteen years of
close pedigree-reporting, and he has
purchased some of the leading race
horses of the day for their owners. He
bought Henry Bassett for $500, and
held him when Mcdaniel was unable to
honor his draft-the same horse on
which that old turfman afterwards won
$1,000. With his knowledge of stock,
Jockeys and trainers, he quietly buys
couple of pools night, hedges with a
stock of mutual tickets, wins without
word, and with his winnings in his pock-
et-book, proceeds the same day to re-
port the race for his publication.
"And $50 is all for Vesuvius. It is
yours, sir, and you got it, o fairies of
Kilkenny SO chape p
The buyer of Vesuvius is a good-na-
tured, middle-aged married man. His
father left him $75, 900 and propensity
for sporting. BROUGHT up to no bust
ness, he cultivated turf-authorities, went
lOnger-headed men, and on good advice
put down his money nervily.
Are you ahead, Yost ?"
L
every year. Guess I'll bet no more after
this season %
Yonder sits in a group half dozen
gulf state professional sporting men
around their leader, silver tongued,
faro-deaier. They are not
very flush of money, but pat together,
and, if successful, divide pro rata, or
fractionally. If, meantime, they can
find some gentry more ardent to play
hand at poker than to avoid the bar
room, they withdraw to fine chamber
in the hotel !; the bottle is passed and
praised, and all night long, silent as
mice, the battle of chance or plunder
goes on.
"And Gray Planet is knocked down
TO Johnny Roe for $50, by me sowl p
Johnny Roe is McDaniel's old jockey, |
loo heavy now to ride, but he sticks to |
the outskirts of the turf, works, per- |
haps as trainer, and tempts destiny in
the pools.
By his side is a Newmarket rider,
ireckled, weighing under a hundred
pounds, unable constitutionaIly to
,lothe his bones in flesh and his grand
ather and great grandfather were all
ockeyes before him, all belong
ng to that singular race of riding
nauikins who would have no place in
nature if there were no running horses.
Ie has received presents of some
cores of dollars from betting winners
or carrying a race, and tonight he put
t on the horse he is to ride tomorrow.
In the background stand dozen veal
by turf men, "guying" two of their
lumber who are backing their own
lorses. Yonder are three sporting re-
'orters with their pockets filed with
mutual tickets. Again, two college
ads are putting their limited cash to-
either to accomplish the purpose of
,etting one ticket. Mr.. Morrissey sud
lenly reaches his hands in his breeches
nd takes out 5000 of his own. Eff
cen tickets" he says, son Fadladeen.
live tickets on Stampede"
The action is not unubserved, and
1any timid better draws near to imi-
ate the examplar.
So the whole play of character and
raft goes on. Therace comes off in the
Hence of fashionable boudoir. The
osers lose without a word. The win
ers turn on their heel to the boufet,
nd remark, carelessly:
GA quart of extra dry. Come up, ,
oys."
"Did you make it? ?" I
A nod of the head is considered well [
red, and they say no more. !