Racing Career 



or cold day a short blue cloak, fastened at the throat by a 

 clasp, hung gracefully from his shoulders. 



The racing over for the day, Jimmy Barber, as he was 

 familiarly called, would repair to his inn, and there after 

 dinner, seated at the head of a long table, he would be found 

 roaring out song after song, in a voice which for volume I never 

 yet heard its equal, until closing time. 



Another of his weaknesses, too, was quoting the Bard of 

 Avon on all occasions whenever he had a chance. "As 

 Shakespeare was once good enough to remark," he would 

 commence, and then out would come a quotation from his 

 repertoire, delivered with a solemnity which would have been 

 laughable had it not been rather a trial to listen to. 



On one occasion, in his palmy days, a match between a 

 two-year-old of his own and another, who started favourite, 

 ended in a dead heat. The decider was run off later on, 

 George Fordham being engaged to ride by the other side in 

 place of the jockey who had previously tried to ride, his 

 mount, this time, being a hot odds-on favourite. 



Jimmy Barber, accompanied by two members of the fourth 

 estate, were driving along in the former's fly to watch the race, 

 when one of the party remarked, " I suppose it's a good thing 

 for the favourite, isn't it, Mr. Barber ?" "Well, a' don't know 

 so much about that," was the reply, "ma' boy tells me that 

 he lost quite three or four lengths at the start just now owing 

 to the colt turning tail when the flag dropped, and — — " But 

 before he could finish the sentence his two companions had 

 opened the door, and were now running as fast as their legs could 

 carry them back to the Stand, there to invest a quarter's salary 

 — or possibly more — on the non-favourite, who, it may be 

 mentioned, this time got off all right, and won in a canter, 

 and it is to be hoped landed its eccentric owner a good stake, 



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