The hive of "The bee-hunter" a repository of sketches, including peculiar American character, scenery, and rural sports |
THE GREAT FOUR-MILE DAY. |
 | THE GREAT FOUR-MILE DAY. The hive of "The bee-hunter" |  |
THE GREAT FOUR-MILE DAY.
[This western sketch was elicited from a celebrated but idle pen, by personal
friendship for the “Bee Hunter.” Its great merit and originality cannot
fail to be widely appreciated.]
The city of Louisville, in the fall of 1822, was visited
by an epidemic, which decimated its population, and
converted the dwellings of its inhabitants, erewhile the
abodes of pleasantness and hospitality, into houses of
mourning. The records of the devastations of the fell
intruder, are to be found inscribed upon the headstones
that whiten the ancient graveyard of the town, wherein
are deposited the bodies of those, who, whilst sojourning
upon earth, dispensed the good things of this world with
graceful liberality, and made a home for the wayfarer
amidst a people upon whom he had no other claim than
that of a stranger. The Angel of Death hovered over
the devoted city in remorseless ecstasy, pointing the
shafts of his exhaustless quiver in every direction, and
public consideration and regard. I was among those
who felt the winnowing of his wings as he flitted past
my couch in quest of nobler trophies.
All those who were not obliged to remain within the
doomed precincts of the city, fled to places afar off;
while such as mere necessity required to abide the pestilence,
resorted to the most ingenious devices to escape
its visitation. Those who were overlooked by the Destroyer
in his wrath, were near being starved, as few
country people dared bring marketing into the town, and
those who did so, only ventured within interdicted limits
at certain hours of the day, and right hastily did they
retreat to their more salubrious abodes. Amid the
general desolation, the incidents of woe were strangely
mingled with those that cheated Death, momentarily, of
his horrors.
It were a scene that might have provoked the attention
of Atropos herself, and made her pause awhile in her
terrible vocation, to smile upon the ludicrous means that
terror invented to thwart the purposes of Destiny. The
emaciated figures of the convalescent citizen, strangely
contrasted with the stalwart frame of the hardy yeoman,
whilst the cadaverous aspect of the former added to the
grotesqueness of the besmeared faces of the latter.
The farmer, moved either by compassion or love of
gain to visit the town, as he penetrated the city as far
as the market-house, would use amulets and bags of
protect him in inhaling the tainted atmosphere; and
whilst he exposed his poultry for sale, kept continually
burning about his stall aromatic herbs, such as pennyroyal,
sage and tansy, to appease or appal the dread intent
of Azrael.
It was with a bounding heart, that late in September
I learned that I was well enough to be removed beyond
the sound of the church bell, whose daily tolling announced
to me, as I lay prostrate, the death of some
schoolmate, whose merry laugh would never more be
heard upon the bowling-green; or the demise of some
ancient crone or new comer, whose gossip or whose enterprise
was the pastime of the youth, or the theme of
speculation amongst the fathers of the city. The luxuriant
forests had just assumed the russet garb of autumn,
as I once more found myself without the city, and right
speedily did the bracing country air and association with
people whose hearth-stone had not been visited by pestilence,
exert their influence in restoring me both to cheerfulness
and strength.
My destination was Shelby county, in the neighborhood
of the village of that name, where I remained until
November. It was during the latter part of October
that the events transpired that will form the subject
of this brief history, and the character of the incident
will probably excuse the digression with which it is begun;
for, as will be presently seen, the epidemic had a
had it not happened, would have spared me the task of
chronicling an achievement in turf matters, more remarkable
than the connection between pestilence and
the sequel of these pages.
On the third Saturday (if I remember aright) of
October, 1822, the Hon. J— L— called for me
on his way to the Jockey Club Races, on the four-mile
day. He had taken up the impression that a race would
be a source of amusement and advantage to me; and in
the fulfilment of a humane purpose, had brought along
with him an Indian pony, that went by the euphoneous
name of “Boots,” given as much for shortness, as
by reason of the color of the animal, which was an
equivocation between a sandy brown and a dingy black
—just that of a pair of boots, which had not received
the polishing aid of the black for an indefinite period.
Astride of this epitome of a horse, I made my first appearance
upon a race-course. I was then only ten
years of age, and the impressions made upon my mind
at that time are more vivid than those of a later day,
and of more important character.
There were then no spacious stands erected for the
accommodation of visitors. Upon a mound within the
circle of the track were collected, what was then considered,
a vast number of carriages, containing the aristocratic
beauty of the country—though perhaps some of
the fair patrons of the turf might at this time, or their
rude contrivances that rejoiced at so recent a period in
the appellation. About the field were horsemen innumerable,
and upon the adjacent hills were thronged the
less fortunate spectators, who could muster neither
wheeled vehicle, nor four-footed beast for the occasion.
The scene was one of animation, and to my young imagination,—of
unsurpassable brilliancy.
We had not been long upon the ground before we ascertained
that something was amiss. Every body wore an
uneasy and fidgetty aspect, the cause of which was soon
discovered. By the rules of the Jockey Club, it required
three entries to make a race. There was no
walking over the course, in those days. Every purse
taken, had to be won gallantly of at least two competitors.
Only two horses had been entered, and the sport
seemed about to be broken up for want of a third.
There were other nags of “lineage pure” in attendance,
but their owners were afraid to start them against the
celebrated Blannerhassett, and the no less celebrated
Epaminondas.
In this strait the concourse of assembled people
grew ill-natured, and even the ladies pouted in sore
disappointment. The owners and trainers of the renowned
coursers, which were held apart for want of a
go-between, vaunted the performances of their respective
nags and looked daggers at the judges, whose conscientious
scruples would not permit the purse to be taken,
club.
The famous racer, J— H—, hopped about the
track with accelerated motion, in calling the public attention
to the prominent points of Blannerhassett, who
was to be abated of his laurels by a rule, which he stigmatized
with many epithets, having reference to eternal
darkness; whilst Dr. B— was no less industrious in
extolling the merits of Epaminondas, who happened to
be precisely in the same situation with his competitor.
What was to be done? The ladies were making
preparation to leave, and the gentleman had begun to
arrange for “scrubbing,” when the Judge called out
from the stand in a loud voice (trumpets were not then
in vogue), “saddle your horses!” What a thrill passed
through the crowd! and with what emotions did I hear
these sounds.
The public, generally, was greatly overjoyed at the
prospect of the race, but, nevertheless, there were many
who were anxious to know upon what authority the
judges had ordered the horses to be saddled; and these
were, generally, the very persons who were most boisterous
in abusing them for their obstinacy, when it was apprehended
that there would be no sport.
Upon inquiry, it was found out that the Hon. J.
L—, in conjunction with three other gentlemen, viz.,
Hon. J. T—, M. H—, and R. B—, Esqrs., had
actually entered a third horse, and thereby made the
club.
The strict constructionists were not satisfied, however,
with the announcement of the third entry; they
demanded to see the animal—and I well remember the
air of ruffled dignity with which the owner of “Boots”
bade me get up behind him, to have the “great unknown”
led up to the stand for inspection, and saddled,
or rather unsaddled, for the race.
The “Boots” party had made the entry with no intention
of running him. It was on their part a gratuitous
subscription of the sum required, to prevent the
spectators from going home in chagrin and disappointment.
But when pushed to this extremity, they not
only produced the nominee, but actually resolved upon
making a brush for the money—as much in derision of
the scruples of the malcontents, as in obedience to a certain
spirit of the old Adam in them, which revolted
against the uncharitable suggestions of collusion bruited
about the course, when it was said, that the third entry
would not exhibit himself for the contest.
Upon the threshold of his ingress into the theatre
of fame, poor “Boots” met with an obstacle that well
nigh nipped his prospects in the bud. The rules of the
club required the pedigree of every horse entered to be
stated. Alas, “Boots” had neither scutcheon nor ancestry.
His age was of little consequence. His present
owner had come in possession of him ten years before
“aged,” a term of scope and verge enough to satisfy the
most fastidious. But his pedigree! There was the
rub.
“Boots” was an orphan upon the paternal side
from birth, and the mother's too, so far as any one could
say to the contrary. He was what is called filius nullus,
or nobody's child, and consequently had a right to
claim any one for parent he thought fit. His owner
plead to be allowed to enter him as “a charity scholar,”
but this could not be granted. At length a compromise
was made, and “Boots” appeared upon the field
under the following imposing blazon and protection.
“The Hon. J. L— enters bl. h. `Boots,' aged; by
`Tar,' out of a `Cuff' mare, of unknown extraction.”
These preliminaries settled, the thorough-breds were
saddled, and the saddle was taken off of “Boots” for
the contest. A negro lad who had ridden him as far as
the house where I resided, and who was allowed by his
master to go to the races, as he had to wait till they
were over to take him home, was mounted upon him.
Great was the laughter of the crowd when the horses
were about starting. The pawing impatience of the
over-trained racers, attracted little attention. The
gaze of the multitude was upon the black pony. “Blannerhassett”
neighed, and “Epaminondas” snorted,—
but all to no purpose. No one cared to look at them.
“Boots” was like a Merry Andrew in a deep tragedy—
whose powers of composing themselves to the thoughtful
mood becoming the occasion, seemed gone for ever, to
the great chagrin of J. H—, and Dr. B—, who
cavorted about in their anger, as much as their horses.
First Heat.—There was great difficulty in starting
the horses. Several false “get offs” were made. The
star actors in the drama pirouetted most provokingly,
whilst the rider of “Boots” made him toe the line,
where he waited with meekness and humility for the
word “go,” and even after that was given, manifested
little anxiety to change his position.
The thorough-breds went at it, pell-mell. The undue
share of attention given to “Boots” by the crowd,
had first nettled their owners and afterwards their jockeys.
Away they went like twin bullets, leaving “Boots”
so far behind, that before the first mile was done he was
lost sight of. When they entered the quarter stretch
of the close of the second mile, “Boots” was for the
first time passing the judges' stand. On they went with
resistless fury.
In the beginning of the third mile “Boots,” was
seen about a hundred yards in advance. This somewhat
startled the spectators, who in the closeness of the
running between “Blannerhassett” and “Epaminondas”
had for a moment forgotten all about him. There
he was though, in front, and pegging away with hearty
good will—ahead it is true in point of position, but actually
him.
“Boots” strove for about six feet to keep his position
in advance, but they swept by him, and after they
had gone out of sight the good old horse had all his running
to himself, and cut out the work to his own liking.
The fourth mile of the race was run under whip and
spur; first “Blan” and then “Pam” (as the spectators
abreviated their learned names) was ahead; the
feeling of the multitude was intense. In entering the
quarter stretch the last mile “Boots” was once more
discernible, and nothing daunted by the clatter of hoofs,
or dispirited by the gibes of such as happened to catch a
glimpse of him, was maintaining his accustomed gait
steadily, and just rounded the turn, as the “two bloods”
swept by the stand—a dead lock.
According to the rules of the club, a dead heat was
regarded as though none had been run. The Boots
party contended that their horse was not distanced, and
to this view of the case, the judges unanimously inclined.
Upon examination, the rules were positive upon the subject,
and had “Boots” bolted, or had he not run a foot
much less two miles of the four, he would be entitled to
start a second time. Indeed, no objection was made by
any one, none could be made, and accordingly it was determined
to put him again in the field—the fact of the
matter being, that his owner perceiving that the old
the day out, just for the fun of the thing.
If the extra exercise of the race improved “Boots,”
it had quite a contrary effect upon the others. They
were sadly blown, and manifested growing symptoms of
distress. In those days, the business of training a horse
for a four-mile race was beyond the skill of Western
jockeys, or at least of many of them, and the art of
riding in a manner to keep a horse together, and husband
him for after heats, was known to but few. In the
present case, the horses were both over-trained, and
over-worked in the race.
As soon as the heat was done, innumerable boys and
grown-up men were rubbing them down, scraping the
foam off of them with great industry and perseverance.
Covers of brightest colors were put over them, and such
pains as few invalids get, were bestowed upon them;
whilst his rider hitched “Boots” to a post, and quietly
sauntered off to a booth, to comfort himself with gingerbread
and a glass of cider.
When the time allowed for rest had elapsed, the three
horses were again brought to the post—but this time
the thorough-breds had become quite subdued, either
through fatigue, or from an admiration of the sober deportment
of the strange competitor who stood beside
them. At the word “go,” they all three “got off”
cleverly together for the
Second Heat.—“Boots” took a position close up,
stout cane used by Jesse (the black boy who rode him),
he maintained with wonderful precision. The cracks
went off at a slow gallop; both riders being ordered to
go gently along. In this way they ran the first mile.
The second mile was done in the same manner, and now
for the first time was heard the exhortation, “go it,
Boots,” as the little black kept closely up. The pace
did not improve the third mile, both Dr. B— and J.
H— knowing that neither horse had more than a
short brush in him. Upon the fourth mile the speed
did not quicken, until Jesse, taking heart from his closeness
to the leading horses, actually challenged the hindermost
one for the front. Such a shout as went up upon
this rally, was never before heard upon that field.
“Go it, Boots,” burst from every mouth, and even the
ladies moved their 'kerchiefs and murmured soft applause.
But chivalrous as the effort was, it came near
costing “Boots” the laurels that were wreathing for his
brow. The push was made too soon. The jockeys became
cognizant of the proximity of the unheralded
scrub, and went off at the top of the speed of their respective
horses. “Boots” was fast falling into the
rear; but as good luck would have it, they could not
quite distance him, but in attempting to do so, they
completely used up the “cracks.”
Epaminondas won this heat by a neck. The stable
boys again got around the descendants of Godolphin,
—for though they had not run more than half a mile of
the heat, that was enough to worst them terribly in their
jaded condition. And “Boots,” too, fared better than
before. He was getting to be a feature in the race, and
a circumstance attending the betting made him now an
object of the greatest interest.
After the dead heat, the betting began. The result
of that heat proved the horses to be so nearly of equal
speed and spirit, that great confidence was placed in the
representations of their owners, and parties betted as
they were partial to the one or the other of them
It so happened that no one seemed to take “Boots”
into the account in making bets, and by that very means
he had as much money depending upon him as either of
the other horses.
Every one who proposed a wager, betted that either
Dr. B—'s “Pam” or J. H—'s “Blan” would win
the purse.
Now the takers of such offers were of course “fielders;”
for they in fact betted, that the horse named would
not take their money, and consequently, if “Boots” won
it, they were as much gainers as though the nag they
relied upon had won it. Hence every bet taken was, in
technical term, upon “the field,” though the party that
took it, might have forgotten at the time that there was
such a horse as “Boots.”
It will be seen that a tissue of accidents first brought
the second heat, procured for him a vast number of unconscious
backers, and made him, at the present stage
of the race, quite a topic of speculation.
As a matter of course, his comfort came to be provided
for; and one assiduous groom ventured to scrape
him down with a thin lath. Whereupon “Boots,” who
had never been known to perspire since the last war,
when he was taken in Canada by the person of whom his
present owner purchased him; looked around, and not
being able to recognize the fellow, or divine what on
earth he was up to, kicked out his left hind leg in evident
disgust.
This was the only token of concern in the proceedings
going on, that the pony had given during the day,
but that, slight as it was, gave great hope to the
“fielders,” for the other horses, albeit so spry in the
beginning, had got beyond the kicking point; and submitted
to the manipulation of their trainers with commendable,
but ominous docility.
When the interval of rest between the heats had expired,
“Boots” alone, seemed qualified for a repetition
of the preceding exercises. He first made his appearance
at the post, in consequence of his not requiring
time for saddling. He stood for some moments quietly,
as usual, with his nose on a parallel with the judges'
stand; but as the trainers brought up Epaminondas
and Blannerhassett he turned his head sidewise, looked
deep sigh—whether of pity at the dejected aspect and
distressed condition of the whilom gallant steeds, or on
account of some faint notion of the business he was engaged
in, then for the first time penetrating the integuments
of his simple understanding, has not been satisfactorily
explained.
Had he been aware that money was staked upon
him,—that he was in fact accessory to gambling,—it is a
question if he would not have sulked outright; for
“Boots,” although bred in a savage country, had kept
moral society for many years; and must have imbibed
serious, and temperance ideas. But the word “go” was
given, and they were all three off for the
Third Heat.—For the first time the little black
was ahead, both in point of fact and position. He went
off just as at the commencement of the race, with perhaps
a trifle more alacrity from practice.
Jesse, who had been lectured upon the impropriety
of his brush in the second heat, so soon as the last half
of the fourth mile, imagined that he had done wrong in
taking the lead, and set about holding the pony up until
the others passed by; but “Boots,” to the sore mortification
of his rider, would not be held up. He had got
a taste of the boy's bludgeon, and not liking its savor,
pushed on, despite the most obstinate endeavors to restrain
his impetuosity.
The thorough-breds this time, not only could endure
whole of the first mile. On entering the second, either
through mortified pride, or more positive malice, both
the jockeys were ordered to go ahead of the scrub.
Spurs were put in requisition, and the flagged and worn
horses got by the pony before they came into the back
stretch. After shaking off their ignoble competitor, they
relapsed into the stinted stride they set out with. But
Jesse now had become enamored of the front, and on he
urged the pony, who, nothing loth, crawled up to them,
and came round the quarter stretch neck and neck with
the foremost.
In the straight work, first one and then the other
glided by him. But these fits and starts in running
could not avail against a steady pace. “Boots” would
come up with them, and at every subsequent attempt it
was becoming palpably more difficult to part company
with him.
On entering the third mile, Epaminondas was evidently
lame, and when he tried to widen the distance
between him and “Boots” on the back stretch, gave up:
the little black went by him for good, and a shout of
applause arose, that had wellnigh made old Entellus's
sceptre tremble in his grasp.
The contest was now narrowed down to “Boots”
and Blannerhassett,—and neither of them had won a
heat.
The four gentlemen who entered the pony, immediately
Jesse to get the descendant of Cuff along;
straight ahead, the little black held the even tenor of
his way, whilst “Blan” would first leave him a rod,
and then drop back to him, in flickering fits of “game
and gravel.”
At the beginning of the fourth mile, “Boots” was
well up; on going round the turn he passed “Blan” a
neck. (Immense cheering.) In the straight running
“Blan” again sloped by the pony, but remained satisfied
with getting ahead the least bit imaginable. This
position was maintained to the turn, when “Boots”
came alongside, and before entering the quarter stretch,
drew out a full length in advance, amid deafening shouts
of “go it, Boots,” “go it, darkey,” “pop him, sooty,”
“give him Jesse;” and such like exclamations of disparaging
signification, but used in the most laudatory
sense of approbation.
Jesse, unfortunately, in his eagerness to win the
heat; used his cudgel carelessly, and accidentally gave
the black a clip on the head, which so “disgentled” him
that he turned almost entirely around before he could
be checked. In this way, he lost his advantage just as
he reached the distance stand, and it was well for him
that he had got that far, as “Boots” showed the most
implacable resentment to such treatment, and tried to
run in every direction but the right one.
Indeed he had not before exhibited such spirit; he
against any such phrenological experiments being
made upon him, to have won the heat, had it been
properly directed. He could not be induced to resume
operations until “Blan” had passed the judges' stand,
and was pronounced winner of the heat.
At the termination of this heat, the nature of the
betting was fully developed. The “Blan” party upon
claiming their stakes—Epaminondas being distanced—
discovered that “Boots” stood between them and the
spoils. They had raised a feeble shout upon the issue
of the heat, futile enough; for they assumed to consider
a triumph over “Boots” as a sorry affair, but when they
understood that the pony was entitled to start a fourth
time, even that faint ejaculation, melted down to a dubious
mutter.
The rules of the club required a horse to win one of
the three first heats to enable him to keep upon the
track. Strange to say there was greater doubt concerning
this last mile than there was respecting “Boots”
being distanced the first heat. The judges had great
trouble in deciding the difficulty. Three heats had been
run, and “Boots” had won neither; but then the first
was declared null and void, ergo, only two had been, in
law, accomplished.
The Epaminondas party here stepped in, as much
for the principle, as the interest of the thing, and declared
that “Boots” had a right to run a fourth heat.
give his left hand to see J. H—'s nag done the same
by, declared openly for the pony; and the judges “being
sufficiently advised,” decided that way. This was the
most reasonable, as well as the most popular judgment;
for one half of those who betted on “Blan,” being, in
sporting terms, “fielders,” and who, consequently, could
not lose, were vociferous for the continuance of the sport.
This question settled, betters were puzzled how to
lay out their money. Blannerhassett had yet friends
who would not hedge. They could not realize the possibility
of his being beat by a scrub like “Boots,” and
J. H— taking courage from the pony's strange freak
at the end of the last heat, vaunted his nag's prowess
anew, as well to assure his friends, as to brag off the
“Boots”' people.
Strange rumors were circulated respecting the condition
of each horse. The trainer of “Blan” kept the
people, as far as possible, from inspecting the state of
his charge, whilst every man, woman and child in the
field, that chose to do so, was allowed to look on “Boots,”
and get upon his back too, as to that matter.
The old pony looked none the worse for wear, and
how to account for his fantastic behavior, was perplexing
enough. Some said he sulked, others that he had
given way internally,—one or two insinuated foul dealings.
None, however, divined the real cause, except
Jesse, who kept it to himself, not even venturing to inform
had only paused in his career to remonstrate against an
unintentional, yet serious and glaring personal injury.
What with the fear of a repetition of the pony's caprices,
and the well-founded belief that Blannerhassett
was used up, the public were in an equipoise in regard
to the result. Betting was going on pretty freely, when
the horses were summoned to the
Last Heat.—The pony showed little change since
he last “toed the mark,” unless perhaps a dogged air,
arising as much from a sense of wrong, as an internal
speculation as to whether the affair was ever coming to
an end.
Blannerhassett looked worse than his namesake did
when charged with high treason. The high-bred steed
was in no mood to take on airs. He came up panting
and faint, and in his distress took no notice whatever of
`Boots,” who, as soon as the boy mounted him, manifested
a strange anxiety to push on. In his eagerness
to get his head out of the way of Jesse's stick, he actually
made a false start, and had to be called back.
When the word was given, “Boots” got greatly the
start. It was enough that Jesse held his cudgel so as
to remind him that it was in readiness; away he scampered,
regardless alike of the shouts of the multitude,
and the abuse of the Blannerhassetts, whose horse was
quite stiff at the go off, and lost ground considerably for
the first half mile. On getting a little warm, he went
better, but the pony was in no humor to wait for him.
At the close of the first mile, “Boots” was two hundred
yards ahead, and pegging away as if the devil was
behind him, and a phantom corn heap in front.
Blannerhassett's jockey now used whip and spur to
overtake the flying imp—but it was in vain. His horse
responded to the steel and lash for a few strides, and
then gave out; fatigued,—lamed,—and broken down.
Meanwhile “Boots,” not having the reputation of
Blannerhassett before his eyes, but the dread of the
cudgel behind him, was rattling it off at a merry pace.
Upon entering the third mile of the heat Jesse came in
view of his antagonist, pretty near the spot where he
was overtaken himself, in the beginning of the day. The
boy could not for a time comprehend how “Blan” got
before him, and was evidently becoming bewildered with
the phenomenon, when the Hon. J. L— told him to
push on, and beat the blooded stock, as far as he had
been beaten.
The darkey understanding now that he had gained a
mile, showed his ivory to the spectators and his cudgel
to “Boots,” and swept by the done-up nag, like a ball
fired out of a cannon charged with slow matches.
I will make no attempt to describe the shouts of the
people at the issue, until I can dip my pen in electricity
to write in thunder drops,—or in the prism, to depict
the eye of beauty as it flashed applause, to the unheralded
champion.
This feat achieved,—there was no competitor for
finish the race by the light of his rays, and he was as
proud as a sceptred monarch, when looking over the
heads of the throng that gathered around the victorious
“Boots” upon the conclusion of the heat, he saw the
glorious orb yet above the horizon, and looking gladly
upon him as though he would bless him before he went
to bed.
“Boots” was near sharing the fate of the Grecian,
who was smothered to death in the theatre, by wreaths
and shawls showered down upon him in glorification. He
could scarcely breathe, for the multitudes that pressed
upon him in one way or another, to do him honor. And
Jesse, too, got a large share of plaudits and dimes conformably;
and even I came in for gleanings of regard,
as I rode home upon the pony after the jubilation.
There were no cattle-painters there, nor lithographers,
nor daguerreotypists; else “Boots” and his rider
would have been transmitted to posterity in their lineaments
of that day. It has fallen upon feeble hands to
preserve some faint remembrance of them in this account,
which is as inferior to the merits of the theme, as
the snuffed candle is to the brilliant orb of day.
| THE GREAT FOUR-MILE DAY. The hive of "The bee-hunter" | |