Lawrence democrat. (Lawrenceburg, Tenn.) 1884-1925, 1891-12-11

"ih, VIZ DOA'i1 ~ DAb4N NH'
A flash and CLEAN of color in the
dust cloud under the wire, and they
are gone again. But the pace is killing
now, the bunch is breaking apart, bot
tom and endurance are beginning to
tell. One by one the weaker fall out
and drop to the rear, till now at the
last quarter only three are left lin it"
at all. Down the stretch they come,
whip, hand and spur, distended nos
trils and eyes bullying from the sock
cts. Big Tom crowding the pole and
coming like whirlwind; he rushed by
the gray filly and the favorite nowhere,
1way back in the rear.
Close by the railing on the grand
stand is the mother, with the wind
tossing her neglected hair about her
face, her hands clasped over her breast,
and her eyes strained on the flying
horses. If an eye had noted her in that
breathless time they would probably
have wondered at her rapt excitement.
But they never knew the mother love
or fear that struggled in that throb-
bing heart or saw ii in the fire of
those staring eyes, as her boy, her
baby, dashes under the wire.
"Goit, you've got it this time, hit him
again, my moneys ON the favorite aud
she's nowhere"
"Big Tom, Artie Collius mount, wins
by neck" reads the judge, and the
great event, the midsummer derby, is
|,pver.
Is it quiet now? A thousand voices
blend in one mighty cheer as the win
ner and his rider come slowly back,
reeking and reeling from the race. A
thousand gaudy .kerchiefs wave them
welcome. Where is the favorite now?
The idol of the morning is now down
in the dust and another installed in its
stead And they cheer themselves
hoarse anew over the new favorite, and
almost carry horse and rider from the
track.
With pale, bloodless face, and limbs
that will hardly sustain him when
helped to the ground, the boy staggers
into the stall where the mother has
returned to await him. With cry her
outstretched arms receive him Just as
his strength is gone and he totters tc
fall.
'There, ma, we done it, didn't we?'
he faltered. "0ld Tom won the DERBY
and amt John happy now? We won't
have to race any more now, will we,
mother? Never have to ride again
Oh, am so glad, for l was afraid to-
day. Yes, mother, was, that l would
never get through that race. But | did
mother, didn't ~"
''Thank God for that, too, my boy
she whispered, as she caressed the
flushed forehead
And won't we be happy, then, yor
and l and John, now old Tom has paiC
the mortgage on the farm again. Yo,
won't be tired and sick, then and
his voice faltered and a flood of crimson
blood gushed from his lips.
Some great artery overcharged ant
overtaXed in the excitement had sue
cumbed, and now ere help could come
it was too late. Yes, brave boy, yol
have backed your last mount and wor
your last race. You will never ride mor'
save to cross the dark valley.
While the gay throng outside chaffeC
and cheered and sang praises of tn,
new favorite, he lay in the broken
hearted mothers arms and watched
the ebbing of his life tide.
Don't cry, mother dear, l am going
to see father now and little brother
Tell John good-by, mother, when HI
comes, and tell him to be good to olC
Tom and-it's-it's so dark, mother
draw me closer, yet, and kiss me good
by"
The head dropped and the little tireC
form quivered-the rider-boy was dead
Joe Brentwood, in Western Rural.