A quarter race in Kentucky and other sketches, illustrative of scenes, characters, and incidents throughout "the universal Yankee nation." |
 | A QUARTER RACE IN KENTUCKY. |
 | A quarter race in Kentucky |  |
A QUARTER RACE IN KENTUCKY.
BY A NORTH ALABAMIAN.
The following inimitable story, perhaps the most humorous of
its kind in the language, was originally published in the N. Y.
"Spirit of the Times," in 1836; since that period the unceasing
demand for copies of it has rendered its re-publication necessary
several times. It was written by a country gentleman
of North Alabama, the author of "Jones's Fight." It is a
matter of infinite regret that he cannot be induced to write more
frequently; his friends would be "after him with a sharp
stick," were we to disclose his name, which is familiar to tens
of thousands of his countrymen, if they only knew it.
Nothing would start against the Old Mare; and after
more formal preparation in making weight and posting
judges than is customary when there is a contest, "the
sateful old kritter" went off crippling as if she was not
fit to run for sour cider, and any thing could take the
shine out of her that had the audacity to try it. The
muster at the stand was slim, it having been understood
up town, that as to sport to-day the races would prove
a water-haul. I missed all that class of old and young
gentlemen who annoy owners, trainers, and riders,
particularly if they observe they are much engaged,
with questions that should not be asked, and either
can't or should not be answered. The business folks
and men of gumption were generally on the grit, and
much of the chaff certainly had been blown off.
A walk or gallop over is a slow affair; and without
be an extremely dry affair; for while the four mile was
being done (as the prigs have it) I noticed many a centaur
of a fellow force his skeary nag up to the opening in the
little clapboard shanty, and shout out impatiently—
"Colonel, let us have some of your byled corn—pour me
out a buck load—there—never mind about the water,
I drank a heap of it yesterday," and then wheel off to
the crowd as if intent on something.
The race, like all things, had an end, and I had
some idea, in imitation of Sardanapalus, "all in one day
to see the race, then go home, eat, drink, and be merry,
for all the rest was not worth a fillip," when I met Dan.
He knows a little, finds out a little, and guesses the
rest, and, of course, is prime authority. I inquired if
the hunt was up. "Oh, no, just hold on a while, and
there will be as bursting a quarter race as ever was read
of, and I will give it 'em, so you can make expenses."
I always make a hand when about, and thinking I might
get a wrinkle by prying into the mystery of quarter-racing,
I accordingly rode to the thickest of the crowd.
A rough-hewn fellow, who either was, or pretended to
be, drunk, was bantering to run his mare against any
horse that had ploughed as much that season, his mare
having, as he assured us, tended twenty-five acres in
corn. Another chap sidled up to him, and offered to
plough against him for as much liquor as the company
could drink, or for who should have both nags—his horse
had never run, as he did not follow it. Sorrel got mad,
and offered to beat him in the cart, wagon or plough,
or he could beat him running one hundred miles, his
weight on each, for five hundred dollars. Bay still
disclaimed racing, but would run the quarter stretch,
took him up, provided Bay carried his present rider,
and he would get somebody; Bay agreed, provided he
would not get a lighter rider. It was closed at that,
and two of Senator Benton's abominations—$100 United
States Bank Bills—were planked up. Bay inquired
if they could stand another $50;—agreed to by Sorrel,
who, observing Bay shell out a $100 note, said, there
was no use of making change, as his note was the same
amount, and they might as well go the $100. This
was promptly agreed to, and another one hundred dollars
offered, and immediately covered—there being
now three hundred dollars aside. Now came a proposal
to increase it three hundred dollars more; Bay
said—"You oversize my pile, but if I can borrow the
money, I'll accommodate you," and immediately slipped
off to consult his banker. Dan now whispered,
"Spread yourself on the Bay." Thinking I should run
in while I was hot, I observed aloud—I should admire
to bet some gentleman ten dollars on the bay. A Mr.
Wash, or as he was familiarly called, Big Wash, snapped
me up like a duck does a June-bug, by taking the
bill out of my hand, and observing that either of us
could hold the stakes, put it in his pocket. Finding
this so easily done, I pushed off to consult my friend
Crump, the most knowing man about short races I ever
knew, and one who can see as far into a millstone as
the man that pecks it. I met him with the man that
made the race on the bay, coming to get a peep at the
sorrel. As soon as he laid eyes on her he exclaimed—
"Why, Dave, you made a pretty pick up of it; I'm
afraid our cake is all dough—that's old Grapevine, and I
told you point blank to walk round her, but you're like a
if he had a failing it was being a leetle too brave."
"How could I know Grapevine," replied Dave, doggedly;
"and you told me you could beat her, any
how."
"Yes," said Crump, "I think I can; but I didn't
come a hundred and fifty miles to run them kind of
races—Old Tompkins has brought her here, and I like
him for a sucker!"
"Well," says Dave, "maybe I can get off with the
race if you think you'll be licked."
"No," said Crump, "when I go a catting, I go a
catting; its mighty mixed up, and there's no telling
who's constable until the election is over; it will be like
the old bitch and the rabbit, nip and tack every jump,
and sometimes the bitch a leetle ahead."
Old Tompkins, who had not appeared during the
making of the race, now came round, and seeing the
bay, said—"Popcorn, by G—d." He now came forward,
and addressed the other party: "Boys," said he,
"it's no use to run the thing into the ground. If a
man goes in for betting, I say let him go his load, but
we have no ambition against you, so draw the bet to
one hundred dollars; that is enough for a little tacky
race like this, just made for amusement."—Carried by
acclamation.
Now the judges were selected: a good judge does
not mean exactly the same thing here as on the
bench, though some of the same kind may be found
there—it means one who is obstinate in going for his
own friends. It did not seem to be considered courteous
to object to the selections on either side, perhaps from
a mutual consciousness of invulnerability. But On
body's persimmon in the way of ugliness. He was
said to be the undisputed possessor of the celebrated
jack-knife; his likeness had been moulded on dog-irons
to frighten the children from going too near the fire,
and his face ached perpetually; but his eyes! his eyes!
He was said to have caught a turkey-buzzard by the
neck, the bird being deceived, and thinking he was
looking another way; and several of the crowd said he
was so cross-eyed he could look at his own head! It
was objected to him that he could not keep his eyes on
the score, as he did not see straight, and it was leaving
the race to the accident of which of his optics obtained
the true bearing when the horses were coming out.
The objections were finally overruled, the crooked
party contending that Nature had designed him for a
quarter judge, as he could station one eye to watch
when the foremost horse's toe struck the score, and
could note the track of the horse that followed, at the
same moment, with the other eye.
The riders now attracted my attention. It is customary,
I believe, to call such "a feather," but they
seemed to me about the size of a big Christmas turkey
gobbler, without feathers; and I was highly delighted
with the precocity of the youths—they could swear
with as much energy as men of six feet, and they used
fourth-proof oaths with a volubility that would bother
a congressional reporter.
There now arose a dispute as to whether they should
run to or from the stand, it being a part of the mile
track, and there being some supposed advantage to one
of the horses, or the other, according as this might be
arranged. It was determined by a toss-up at last, to
tracks, and another for the word, the horses walked
off towards the head of the stretch. Now it was,
"Hurra, my Popcorn—I believe in you—come it strong,
lumber—go it with a looseness—root little pig, or die."
And, "Oh! my Grapevine! tear the hind sights off
him!—you'll lay him out cold as a wagon-tire—roll
your bones—go it, you cripples!" &c., &c., &c.
Beginning to doubt, from all I heard, whether my
friend Dave had been regularly appointed almanac-maker
for this year, I hedged a five, and staked it with
a young man that was next me, riding a remarkable
wall-eyed horse, and some time after-staked another
five dollars, with a person I had noticed assisting about
the bar, and would be able to recognise again. I now
flattered myself on my situation—I had all the pleasurable
excitement of wagering, and nothing at risk.
Each side of the track was lined with eager faces,
necks elongated, and chins projected, a posture very
conducive to health in a bilious climate, as it facilitates
the operation of emetics. I was deafened with loud
cries of "Clear the track!" "Stand back!" "Get
off the fence!" "The riders are mounted!" "They
are coming!" "Now they are off!"—but still they
came not. Without intending it, I found myself, and
indeed most of the crowd, moving up towards the
start, and after every failure, or false alarm, I would
move a few yards. I overheard a fellow telling with
great glee—"Well, I guess I warmed the wax in the
ears of that fellow with the narrow brimmed white
hat; he had an elegant watch that he offered to be
against a good riding-horse. You know my seventeen
year old horse, that I always call the bay colt; I proposed
agreed to it without ever looking in his mouth; if he
had, he would have seen teeth as long as tenpenny
nails. It is easy fooling any of them New York collectors—they
ain't cute: the watch is a bang-up lever,
and he says if he was GOING TO TRAVEL he would not
be without it for any consideration. He made me promise
if I won it to let him have it back at one hundred
dollars in case he went into Georgia this fall. It is
staked in the hands of the Squire there;—Squire, show
it to this here entire stranger." The Squire produced
a splendid specimen of the tin manufacture; I pronounced
it valuable, but thought it most prudent not
to mention for what purpose.
Alarms that the horses were coming continued, and
I gradually reached the starting place: I then found
that Crump, who was to turn Popcorn, had won the
word—that is, he was to ask "are you ready?" and if
answered "yes!" it was to be a race. Popcorn jumped
about like a pea on a griddle, and fretted greatly—he
was all over in a lather of sweat. He was managed
very judiciously, and every attempt was made to soothe
him and keep him cool, though he evidently was somewhat
exhausted. All this time Grapevine was led about
as cool as a cucumber, an awkward-looking striker of
old Thompson's holding her by the cheek of the bridle,
with instructions, I presume, not to let loose in any case,
as he managed adroitly to be turning round whenever
Popcorn put the question.
Old Tompkins had been sitting doubled up sideways,
on his sleepy-looking old horse—it now being near dark
—rode slowly off a short distance, and hitched his
horse: he deliberately took off his coat, folded it carefully,
equal care deposited on it, and then his weather-beaten
hat; he stroked down the few remaining hairs on his
caput, and came and took the mare from his striker.
Crump was anxious for a start, as his horse was worsted
by delay; and as soon as he saw Grapevine in motion
to please her turner, Old Tompkins swung her off
ahead, shouting triumphantly, "Go! d—n you!" and
away she went with an ungovernable. Crump wheeled
his horse round before reaching the poles, and opened
on Old Tompkins—"That's no way; if you mean to
run, let us run, and quit fooling; you should say `Yes!'
if you mean it to be a race, and then I would have
turned loose, had my nag been tail forward; it was no
use for me to let go, as it would have been no race any
how until you give the word."
Old Tomkins looked as if the boat had left him, or
like the fellow that was fighting, and discovered that
he had been biting his own thumb. He paused a moment,
and without trying to raise a squabble, (an unusual
thing,) he broke down the track to his mare,
slacked her girths, and led her back, soothing and trying
to quiet her. She was somewhat blown by the run,
as the little imp on her was not strong enough to take
her up soon. They were now so good and so good,
and he proposed they should lead up and take a fair
start. "Oh!" said Crump, "I thought that would
bring you to your milk, so lead up." By this time you
could see a horse twenty yards off, but you could not
be positive as to his colour. It was proposed to call
in candles. The horses were led up, and got off the
first trial. "Ready?" "Yes!"—and a fairer start
was never made. Away they went in a hurry,
"Glimmering through the gloam."
All hands made for the winning post. Here I heard
—"Mare's race!"—"No! she crossed over the horse's
path!"—"The boy with the shirt rode foul!"—"The
horse was ahead when he passed me!" After much
squabbling, it was admitted by both parties that the
nag that came out on the left-hand side of the track
was ahead; but they were about equally divided as to
whether the horse or the mare came through on the
left-hand side. The judges of the start agreed to give
it in as even. When they came down, it appeared
that one of the outcome judges got angry, and had
gone home an hour ago. My friend that looked so
many ways for Sunday, after a very ominous silence,
and waiting until frequently appealed to, gave the race
to the horse by ten inches. This brought a yell from
the crowd, winners and losers, that beat any thing
yet; a dozen of men were produced, who were ready
to swear that gimblet-eye was a hundred yards off,
drinking a stiff cock-tail at the booth, and that he was
at the far side of it when the horses came out, and
consequently must have judged the result through two
pine planks an inch thick; others swore he did not
know when the race was won, and was not at the post
for five minutes after. Babel was a quiet retired place
compared with the little assemblage at this time: some
bets were given up, occasional symptoms of a fight
appeared, a general examination was going on to be
assured the knife was in the pocket, and those hard to
open were opened and slipped up the sleeve; the
crowd clustered together like a bee-swarm. This continued
until about nine o'clock, when Crump, finding
he could not get the stakes, compromised the matter,
and announced that by agreement it was a drawn race.
any former one; every one seemed glad of it, and there
was a unanimous adjournment to the bar. Though
tired and weary, I confess that I (for no earthly reason
that I can give but the force of example) was inclined
to join them, when I was accosted by a person with
whom I had bet, and had staked in the hands of the
young man riding the wall-eyed horse. "Well," said
he, "shell out my five dollars that I put up with that
friend of yours—as I can't find him." I protested that
I did not know the young man at all, and stated that
he had my stake also. He replied that I need not try
to feed him on soft corn that way, and called on several
persons to prove that I selected the stakeholder, and
we were seen together, and we must be acquainted, as
we were both furreigners from the cut of our coats. He
began to talk hostile, and was, as they brag in the
timber districts, twenty foot in the clear, without limb,
knot, windshake, or woodpecker hole. To appease
him, I agreed, if the stakeholder could not be found,
to be responsible for his stake. He very industriously
made proclamation for the young man with the walleyed
horse, and being informed that he had done gone
three hours ago, he claimed of me, and I had to shell
out.
Feeling somewhat worsted by this transaction, I concluded
I would look up my other bets. Mr. Wash I
did not see, and concluded he had retired; I found
the stakeholder that assisted about the bar, and claimed
my five dollars on the draw race; to my surprise I
learned he had given up the stakes. Having been
previously irritated, I made some severe remarks, to
all of which he replied in perfect good temper, and
world about such matters, and that it was his invariable
rule never to give up stakes except by the direction of
some of the judges, and called up proof of his having
declined delivering the stakes until he and the claimant
went to old screw-eye; and he decided I had lost.
This seemed to put the matter out of dispute so far as
he was concerned, but thinking I would make an appeal
to my opponent, I inquired if he knew him. He
satisfied me, by assuring me he did not know him from
a side of sole leather.
I left the course, and on returning next morning, I
looked out for Mr. Wash; I discovered him drinking, and
offering large bets; he saw me plainly, but affected a
perfect forgetfulness, and did not recognise me. After
waiting some time, and finding he would not address
me, I approached him, and requested an opportunity
of speaking to him apart. Mr. Wash instantly accompanied
me, and began telling me he had got in a scrape,
and had never in his life been in such a fix. Perceiving
what he was at, I concluded to take the whip-hand
of him, and observed—"Mr. Wash, if you design to
intimate by your preliminary remarks that you cannot
return to me my own money, staked in your hands, I
must say I consider such conduct extremely ungentlemanly."
Upon this he whipped out a spring-back
dirk knife, nine inches in the blade, and whetted to cut
a hair, stepped off, picked up a piece of cedar, and
commenced whittling. "Now, stranger," says he,
"I would not advise any man to try to run over me,
for I ask no man any odds further than civility; I consider
myself as honest a man as any in Harris county,
Kentucky; but I'll tell you, stranger, exactly how it
sorrel, I was out of soap, but it was too good a chance
to let slip, as I was dead sure Popcorn would win;
and if he had won, you know, of course it made no
difference to you whether I had a stake or not. Well,
it was none of my business to hunt you up, so I went
to town last night to the confectionary, [a whisky
shop in a log pen fourteen feet square,] and I thought
I'd make a rise on chuck-a-luck, but you prehaps never
saw such a run of luck; everywhere I touched was
pizen, and I came out of the leetle end of the horn; but
I'll tell you what, I'm a man that always stands up
to my fodder, rack or no rack; so, as you don't want
the money, I'll negotiate to suit you exactly; I'll give
you my dubisary: I don't know that I can pay it this
year, unless the crap of hemp turns out well; but if I
can't this year, I will next year probably; and I'll tell
you exactly my principle—if a man waits with me like
a gentleman, I'm sure to pay him when I'm ready;
but if a man tries to bear down on me and make me
pay whether or no, you see it is his own look out, and
he'll see sights before he gets his money." My respect
for Mr. Wash's dirk-knife, together with my perceiving
there was nothing else to be had, induced me to express
my entire satisfaction with Mr. Wash's dubisary,
hoping at the same time that at least enough of hemp
would grow that year. He proposed that I should let
him have five dollars more for a stake, but on my declining,
he said, "Well, there is no harm in mentioning
it." He went to the bar, borrowed pen and ink, and
presently returned with a splendid specimen of caligraphy
to the following effect:—
Due Dempsey, the just and
value received, payable on the
26th day of December, 1836 or 1837, or any time after
that I am able to discharge the same. As witness my
hand and seal, this 30th day of May, 1836.
George Washington Briggs.
[ILLUSTRATION][Description: SEAL]
I wish you would try Wall street with this paper, as
I wish to cash it; but I'll run a mile before I wait for
a quarter race again.
| A quarter race in Kentucky | |