Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1890-07-10

the British public; the latter ones are the
princes and titled ones. the swells: the
ariStocracy of the modern Rome.
The grand stand, the club stand and the
princes stand tower high above the
course. facing the finish post Along On
either side of them, on the outside of the
course. the crowd is gathered and squash
ed from Tottenham corner down to the
road. Carriages, hansoms, drags, brakes.
cabs and costermongers' barrows coul-
mingle with the plethora of humanity like
raisins in pudding and ON every side rise
the yells of peddlars. the whines of beg
gars, the songs o. itinerant MINISTRIES and
gypsy singers and the shouts of the scat
tered bookmakers as they bet against the
favorite or the field. Within the course
1t Is just the same, save that private stands
erected by private spectators. who charge
admission fees of anywhere from shilling
TO half a crown. take the place of the mon
ster stands on the other side of the track.
That track. by the way. is the green.
springy turf of the downs, without anv
artlticlallty about it. The field is free for
all the world. Prince and pauper, thief
and constable enjoy like privileges there.
Even the unfathered mongrel who invari-
ably gets in front of the horses at the
start. is entitled to the right of way there
1t Is public common, the inherited home
of the gypsy and the nomad BY two
clock the crowd is as thick as can be- and
no brighter. gayer, more varied sight can
be imagined than the spectacle presented
by the common. Then at 2:30 the race is
called, the betting redoubes in vivacity,
the bOOKma6ers in strangest harlequin
garments and multi-colored hats redouble
their yells and odds. The welshers slip
out In the turmoil and excitement of pub
llc enthusiasm, the horses start. They re
of! shouts some one. They re off re-
echo some 100000. Then a silence falls
over ali, and settles there for maybe a
minute. Lattenham corner is passed. the
weaker ones are cut Of it. and the stayers
are left behind. Yell after yell goes up;
yell after yell and cheer after cheer. Many
are silent for the favorite is conner; bu
still the enthusiasm catches nearly every
body, save those who are hit too hard.
''Sainfoln winsr' they shrek; lie Nord
wins! ''Sainfoin!" Orwell wins" lie
Nerds winningr' A pause, and then
murmur like the distant roar of a cata-
ract. ''Sainfoin wins!' The Derby is
over: bat many wait to see the end of the
day meet. Those who have won can af
ford to; those who have lost don t want to
go home.
All gel drunk; nothing so conducive to
consolation and so helpful to JOY as getting
drunk. 1t is o'clock, and all are pretty
well, thank you and all are starting
home. The coster in his barrow with his
moke leads the way; next comes the peer
IN his four-in-hand. Like the tail end of
the funeral train of some public man, the
procession back to London is mixed.
Ladies whose pride would sour syrup smile
on DANES in cheap calico; officers of the
guards throw kisses at the wives of coster-
mongers. All is merrlment; all suggests
a spree: even on top of the princes drag a
soupcon of public love making between
other peoples husbands and wives suggests
the notion that the Derby is over.