Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1893-05-04
A MILLIONAIRE ROUGH.
Arlington Baird Was Not Phenomenal, b,
the Type OF Day.

Arlington Baird Was Not Phenomenal, but
the Type of a Day.
From the London Spectator.
1t is not Of much use to moralize, as some Of
our contemporaries have been doing. over q
career like that Of Mr.. Abingdon Baird, the
Scotch millionaire, who died on Saturday last
at New Orleans from a chill caught while at
tending a prize fight. He was the last of
family who, we are told, have been distinguished
for nearly century by the same qualities.
They have all been able so to command and
guide great masses of men as to make money in
quantities out Of their labor; they have all
gone their own way exactly as they pleased;
and they have all been described by their
enemies as ''roughs,'' with half-de-
veloped consciences and a sort of intel
ligence- If Mrs. Oliphant did not sketch Pat
Torrance in The Ladies Lindores" from one Of
them, she might have done SO: and il is related.
truly or falsely, of another who gave ESQ, 900
to the Scotch Church, that he was the cause of
the best and most characteristic of all Scotch
ecclesiastical stories. He contemplated his
mighty benefaction long before it was made.
and with true business acuteness asked an ex-
pert as to his chance of getting full return
for his money. will it help me- he inquired
free to guarantee We" replied the ecclesiastic.
Scotch as himself, but it's an experiment weel
worth trying"
The race ended in the man just deceased.
who, left at nineteen heir to the whole family
with 80. 900 acres in land and Accommodations
worth ten times as much, devoted himself en-
tirely to pleasures such as a trough" enjoys
to keeping racers on huge scale: to riding
himself. as a gentleman jockey. In every part
of the kingdom. and to instigating, rewarding
and associating with professional prize fighters.
He was not fool and he did not, it Is said.
scatter the principal of his fortune. but his
vast income was spent some of the lowest
of men and women; he broke his constitution
by sweating himself to ride light and he died
at thirty-two of a chill caught while holding
the sponge at American prize fight We
never heard of his cheating any one or
betraying his hackers. as some men of
his type have done, but his career
was, of course, utterly indefensible-a steady
and consistent misuse of the three great powers
intrusted to him by Providence-namely, vast
wealth, a sound constitution and the faculty of
always compelling himself to do what he wanted
to do even if it involved physical risk or suffer-
ing. We feel an interest in his career however,
not because he is fit subject for moralizing-
which is, we fear. utterly useless. for men of
his type will not be deferred by his fate any
more than he deferred by the fate of the
Marquis of Hastings, on which he had a habit
of dwelling-but because he belonged to the
class which. of all others, is in day least I'M
derstood. People write of Mr.. Abingdon Baird
IL III
of a class old, probably. hstory-certainly
old the Roman empire, under which
Young meC of vast fortune constantly appeared
who devoted themselves to gladiators as Mr.
Baird to prize fighters: exulted in rare breeds
of horses trained for racing chariots. as he ex-
ulted in his stud; and even themselves de-
scended into the arena. as he rode Tor himself
in matches between gentlemen Jockeys. All
through the histories of France, Germany and
England we find mobiles appearing with pre-
cisely the same tastes. the tournament differing
the hunting fields of the continent becom-
ing places for contest in individual proves,
distinCuishable from a race only in this, that
plebeians were not allowed to partake of the
fierce enjoyment. To ride all day. to drink all
night to watch animals men fighting, and to
vie with one another in struggles taxing the
physical energies TO the utmost, were the amuse-
ments of our own squires of the eighteenth CEN
tury and are the amusements of q section
among their descendants still.
What Jack Overheard in the Dining Room.
From Harrers YounZ People.
Come eat piece of pie with me-" said the
knife to the soup ladle.
NO. thanks" said the soup ladle. 81 may
be in the soup, but 1 never eat pie with
knife"
Lets go to sea-" said the spoon to the SALT
..You are an old salt.
THAT'S SO. But what'll we go in?" asked the
salt.
1.-The gravy boat" said the spoon.
81 believe I've got chill" said the salt.
swell. who wouldn't, living In a cellar all the
tirne?'' jeered the olive fork
isn't this room little cold?' asked the oil
IT al concealed -