The Carbon advocate. [volume] (Lehighton, Pa.) 1872-1924, 1891-05-23

Mott street, and there we're many fine
gentlemen there who never reached
States prison, but who ought TO have
been there long ago. There we're
prize fighters, jockeys and toughs out Of
number, and also Representatives of
all the great stables in the country.
Real sporting gentlemen we're there
also, who like the turf and spend their
loose ducats on it; prominent among
them were Freddy Gebhart, Lilly
Langtry's friend, and Foxhall Keene,
the son of Jim Keene, the California
plunger, and one of the best gentleman
riders in the country.
Report has had it that Jim Keene
was fiat broke after the great wheat
deal Of three years ago, but it did not
look that way on Thursday when his
son Foxhall, bid thirty-three thousand
five hundred dollars for Tournament.
Phewi wasn't it warm, when Freddy
GebhRrd and Foxhall Keene were
pitted against each other. The bidding
on Tournament was started at fifteen
thousand dollars, it jumped by 500 and
1000 at lick, till thirty-two thousand
dollars was reached. Fred Gebhard
raised himself to his full six feet and
said in a knock out tone, "THIRTY-
THREE THOUSAND" Little Foxhall on
the other side looking as unconcerned
as if he was buying a pack of cigar
cites, said sotto voce, and "flve
hundred. Freddy gave quick
switch of bis cane, and the son
of the California plunger carried off
the prize.
Friday may not be the luckiest day
In the calendar, but it was chosen for
the great Brooklyn Handicap with a
$4,000 stake and second only to the
Suburban, the great race of the year.
A field of twenty, and such twenty; a
man might live life time and never
see such a field again am in no sense
racing man; gambling despise but
when the flag is dropped can feel my
blood rush with a quicker current, and
as they turn the curve and come thun-
dering down the home stretch-gee
whilikensi feel as if / could bet my
hat and my boots if l only knew the
winning horse feel a good deal like
the Rev. Ira Parsons, of old North Var
mouth did, when he was going to meetin'
one Sunday and heard Deacon John
sons old gray mare come pacing down
the road, "Let her out, Sam, let her
out" the dominic cried, as the gray
mare almost reached his tailboard
"Give her the CAD, Sam, give her the
CAD. For the Lords sake and for my
sake don't let that cussed old plug beat
you" That's just how I felt The
road to the races was sight. Every.
thing from donkey cart to a six-horse
tally-ho.
Our sisters who go to the races were
| out in full feather, and guaged by the
fashions of this season full feather
means good deal. The sight of the
Grand Stand was thing never to be
forgotten, and resembled the scene in q
carnival.
Just before the start, when the bet.
ting came on, one of the widest scenes
ensued ever witnessed in a betting
ring. 1t is never peaceable OF quiet
place under any circumstances, but
the scene of Friday beggars all descrip.
ton. Men fought each other like wild
beasts, to lay their money on thei1
favorites. They climbed on each others
backs and over each others shoulders
andfelt amply rewarded for the struggle
in the little bit of pasteboard, which In
thirty minutes later told the story OF
their hopeless ruin. tits not necessary
to tell of the race. You have that al
ready. Old Uncle Joe sat under the
shade of the fence when Tenney passed
under the string and the shouts of ap.
plauding thousands rent the air fo1
the winner. "Who's win dat race
Jeff" said Uncle Joe, "Who's win dat
racer" "Tenney, of course" f." said his son
JEFF, as he slid down from q telegraph
pole. "Wahat, dat little tornary black
Niger Pikey Barnes?" "Dat's de boy
said JEFF. Uncle Joe wiped his eye with
the sleeve Of his coat, u knowed dat
an knoWed now dI his N mudder nd ooA too Bres, IS
BROADBRIM.