The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1907-08-24

New York.-Thirty thousand eyes
are focused upon platform built at
some elevation from the ground and
supported by posts that are painted
white. A solitary man stands upon
the floor Of the structure. He strides
back and forth and gesticulates VIC
lently. Sometimes he seems to appeal
in duplication. At others his ges-
lures are those Of determined COM
mand. His lips are seen to move; but
the sounds of his voice are drowned
in the din of the throng.
Below him is field Of high-spirited,
sensitive. nervous and fractions thor
oughbred horses. Mounted on them
are mere wisps of boys, who jerk en-
ergetically at the bride reins, kick
with their heels and express their
thoughts vehemently into the ears of
the animals they are riding.
With a snap and a stunning sound,
Ake the vibration of a string of
double bass, the barrier is suddenly
released by the man on the platform.
and a dozen eager colts plant their
hoofs firmly into the soft soil of the
track, scrambling with the instinct Of
their natures, which education long
and patient has developed, to reach
place in front, while the monkeylike
boys on their backs. their sharp faces
pushed forward eagerly into the wind.
peer on both sides of them to discern
nm opapfn0 whar fhov m nv oat fhrouuh
and improve their chances to finish
first in the race.
Thirty thousand eyes, scanning in
tently the turn of the track, follow
closely the running of the field, and
$4,000 voices begin to croak, and
scream, and babble. Some are the
hysterical notes of a nervous woman
who has wagered half her weeks pin
money upon the race. Some are the
cultural roars of the "touts," the stable
followers and the hoarse criers OF
wares and edibles. Some are the
cackle Of superheated storekeepers
and possibly their clerks.
Cry for the Favorite.
Through 1t all, and above 1t all, is
the note of personality, the cry for the
popular jockey Of the day. 1t is a
queer phenomenon of mighty sport.
It is the slogan of the American for
the individual who does things. The
horses are racing. The horses are the
motive for the struggle, the backbone
of pastime that was inaugurated cen.
turtles ago, but the majority Of the
vast mass congested within iron rail-
ings are shouting for the jockey.
Afar down the course at the field
stand one hears Come on, you
Miller!" The exhortation increases In
volume, and all the field stand appears
to be shouting, Come on. you Miller!"
The thousands upon the lawn take up
the refrain, the bookmakers and their
clerks join in, II a Miller victory means
victory for them, and at last there is
a Niagaralike thunder of appeal,
Come on, you Miller!" an anxious
moment or two. then wild screech Of
triumph, and the "Millerites" rush
away to obtain their gains, II Miller
happens to have won.
mere 10 barely day tnat II Is pos
sible to miss this queer chain of incl
dent at the race course, for the race
goers rush with enthusiastic favor to
the support of some jockey who, by
his skill and his knowledge Of men
and animals, beats his fellow jockeys
in the daily tpmult Of track sport.
Names Live Long In Memory.
Time passes and boys grow old and
heavy. The idol of the present day
will be only the memory Of the past.
Yet the names Of the great riders live
with racegoers even longer than the
names Of statesmen who were contem-
poraneous with than. The senator
from New York Of decade ago may
be forgotten by another decade, but
the name Of Tod Sloan will live for
= century. and maybe longer The
riding Of Garrison served to enrich
tho phraseology Of the, Hnglish Ian,
guage, for Garrison finish" ID ap-
plicabIe MIR to more things than Z
horse race.t Waiter Miller. the lead
~ rider of the Unitsd States At the