Sharp County record., 1891-11-19

A flash and a 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 in it"
at all. Down the stretch they come
whip, hand and spur, distended nos
trils and eyes bulging from the sock
cts. Big Tom crowding the pole and
coming like whirlwind; he rushed by
the gray filly and the favorite nowhere,
away 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 kne W the mother love
or fear that struggled in ths1hrob,
those staring eyes, as her boy, her
baby, dashes under the wire.
Colt, you've got it this time, hit him
again, my moneys on the favorite aud
she's nowhere
big Tom, Artie Collins mount, wins
by neck" reads the Judge, and the
great event, the midsummer derby, is
over.
Is it quiet now? A thousand voices
blend in one mighty cheer as the win.
ner and his rider come slowly back.
reeSing 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 to
fall
There, ma, we done it, didn't we?"
he fatered, "Old 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 I was afraid to-
day, Yes mother, was, that | would
never get through that race But did,
mother, didn't I?'
THANK God for that too, my boy"
she whispered, az she caressed the
flushed forehead
And won't we be happy, then, you
and | and John, now old Tom has paid
the mortsage Oh .he farm again, You
won't be tited and sick then and"
his voice faltered and food of crimson
blood gushed from his lips.
Some great artery overcharged and
overtaxed in the excitement had sue.
cumbed, and now ere help could come
1t was too late, Yes, brave boy, you
have backed your last mount and won
your last race, You will never ride more
save to cross the dark valley.
While the gay throng outside chaffed
and checred and sang praises Of the
new favorite he lay in the broken
hearted mothers arms and watched
the ebbing Of his life tide.
Don't cry mother dear, am roing
10 see father now and little brother
Tell John good'by, mother, when he
comes and tell him TO be good 10 old
Tom and-it's-its so dark mother,
draw me closer yet and kiss me rood.
by" ''
The head dropped and the little tired
form quivered-the rider boy was dead.
Joe Brentwood, in Western Ru.al