Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1891-11-29
Anunnrecadented Event.

An Unprecedented Event.
"Say, pardy," observed Skinny Billy
to Sam TatLersall, as he planted his
horses name and gave him parting
wipe with the brush, II was to Sunday
school,"
Git out!"
"Yes, I.was.~
"Nixyw
''Bet yer fyer"
Take it. Show yer papers, sonny,
or come up . tn stand an explain,
continued Sam with sturdy disbelief.
Things was shut, Sunday, you ketch,
so l was out exercisin' the trotters be-
fore feed time, when l ups an sees big
room full Of Spankin' poorly girls, reg liar
thOrough-bred bruteS, all Singin' like
fun. That's US, says l, an l goes.
What's the price?' asks OF the Teller
on the door. 'Nothink,' says he, she's
free as air. That's Us again. says l,
an Just then an ole duck with a white
choker and mOurnin' clothes on came a
amblin' back Z tn door, finds place
for me In book, an says, Sing brother!
So l sings. l fell down hard on the
words, so 1 just la-la-laed. 'Twasa't a
bad song, but l wasn't stuck on the
speed action Of the gal at the organette.
Says TO the ole duck, She hangs back
TOO much. She'll git shut out sooner
these fine days
"Oh, no, l guess not says he, SHE
kin gu in any time. The doors is never
closed durin' service
''Humph,' says I, this is the fall
meet I'm huntin' with both hind feet.
Places where they amt no shut-outs Is
skarce.'
He looks at me juberously, an asks:
Young man, who's yer teacher" Ole
Bob Dillingham; says I, with Anstei-
gers stud ON, says he, still more
iuberouSly, What class are you in?
What CLASP says 1, Il didn't say, coz
YER didn't ask. I'm in the 2;1S trot with
Bonny Boy for j. Dolohan, an in the
e-for-al-best-twO-in-three-mile-heats
on Baby q. for 2. DOlohan.'
ga race riderr the ole Teller gasps,
dead wind-broken. Heavens! to think
Of one so young fallin' down to Belial?
'BeliaI?' says l, Il don't know him.
Whose stables he in? Bet ye a flyer
I'm game TO stay in so longs my mounts
got leg left; an IL it comes Z fallin'
down, ole clocks says |, Gimme good
start with the bunch and | bet ye yer
horse Belial'll be tn one that falls
down on the racen
Don't become so levity, young man,
saws he, frOwnin'. 1t pains me t see
We a follower Of Mammon.' 'Mammon|
remarks l. L don't know none of your
mounts, pardner. Guess he must be
one of tho Californy horses entered for
the sweepstakes. But as L follerin'
him. says l, IN bet We a caSe-note, IL
the Baby's in any kind Of shape, an we
get square send-off, we'll neck him at
the quarter-pole and show clean day
light before his nose at the string
she Sorter heaved for breath min
nte, an then he whispers awful solemn,
Young man, repent the error of yer
way.' 'Wot? An error In my weig b"
saws 1. An error? No, sir, guess
not. 1 pulls. ninety'fve an quarter
when l hits the pig-Skin, exact. Wait, ,
hollers he, Wait, young man!
'Weight% whispers /. Not much l
don't weight any more. Wot do ye
take me for-a hat-rack for han1icapS?
I'm caIryin' eight pounds now. in the
the two-year-old. Do ye want Z bus
nv horses back with lead sinkers"
''He gifts purple in tn face, though
logged il could see what was rattlin'
him. You misunderstood me, he says.
You are too fast Too fast| ejack-
ylates L. I've got orders to shove tn
Baby; never pulled race; an l bet we
show the field KILN pace from start
to fnish!"
.The old duck seemed all tangled up,
an wriggled fit to kill. He looks at me
an groaus. on, that / should live L
see the day. Young man, you are on
the track to perditiOn. Hump! says l,
Which is this here perdition track, a
kite-shape, oval or straight-away
stretch?'
''He looks at me as if I'd shot his
grandfather with restsrsw pie, an
come at me sgin. 'Layin' aside this
unSeemly cavilling,' says he, rs this the
record that you seek to leave when you
dep II he'd known Dolohsn's stable,
he'd q known l amt a ridin' fer no
record, only for the stuff; but didn't
want I make him seem too ignorant, so
I chips In: Record? Did We say rec
ord? How do you like Sunol? Bet you
flyer, ole boss Sunol can't down
Maud SIS time under the same indent-
ickle circumstances, track an all! But
he just looked at me sorrowful enough
TO give me spawn, an sighed, Alas.
guess you are unregenerate!"
80 I'm which? says l, but just then
the organ began Z cut in ahead Of me,
sn I riz up quick, remsrkin': Whoa,
pardner, here's where we MARBLE some
morel Wen trot OF that heat after the
music But when l looked around
again he WIS gone, an Teller along
side the door said be chased himself