Did you think to put a
saucer of milk out for the kitty before you locked up the house?
No. Horse-racing bores me to death, and as I am one of the charter
members of the Anti-Other-Folks-Enjoyment Society, organized to
stop people from amusing themselves in ways that we don't care for,
you can readily see that it is a matter of principle with me to
ignore horseracing, and not to give it so much encouragement as
would come from mentioning it.
If you're so interested in improving the breed of horses by
competitive contests, what 's the matter with that one where the
prize is $5 for the team that can haul the heaviest load on a
stoneboat, straight pulling? Pile on enough stones to build a
house, pretty near, and the owner of the team, a young fellow with
a face like Keats, goes "Ck! Ck! Ck! Geet . . . ep . . . thah
BILL! Geet ep, Doll-ay!" and cracks his whip, and kisses with his
mouth, and the horses dance and tug, and jump around and strain
till the stone-boat slides on the grass, and then men climb on
until the load gets so heavy that the team can't budge it. Then
another team tries, and so on, the competitors jawing and jowering
at each other with: "Ah, that ain't fair! That ain't fair! They
started it sideways."
"That don't make no difference."
"Yes, it does, too, make a difference.
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