302 " MY KINGDOM FOR A HORSE ! " 



good horse. This was a chestnut three-year-old, with three white 

 legs and of rare quality, though perhaps without the command- 

 ing length and liberty of an absolutely first-class English horse. 

 He was somewhat after the style of Bend Or, and knowing 

 absolutely nothing of the supposed merits and relative form of 

 the American horses, I wrote Col. Buck the same night : "I 

 have seen one horse to-day which, if I mistake not, is really in the 

 first class." 



This horse was the three-year-old Hanover, whom I have 

 learned more of since, having seen him win two more races, and 

 despite the low opinion I formed of American horses generally, 

 I should not have the smallest hesitation in backing Hanover 

 for our St Leger this year, were he engaged and iu England. 



That, in its way, was almost equal to my finding Phil 

 May, for Hanover, later on, proved to be the leading 

 stallion in the States for four or five years and his blood 

 has come to be greatly valued in this country through 

 Orby, who is out of a Hanover mare. 



I must not dawdle over these reminiscences of America, 

 but I must give just a touch of what happened on Decora- 

 tion Day at Jerome Park in 1887, then opened for racing 

 once more, but since then, I believe, built over. Here 

 is an extract of what I wrote at the time : 



But now to meet Mr Keene on the Quarter Stretch or whatever 

 they call it and see Kingston. 



Before this meeting is effected, I am somehow brought into 

 contact with a kindly and jovial gentleman, of between fifty and 

 sixty, who remarks, without more ado : " You look as though you 

 wanted a drink. Come with me." A drink, after the long wait 

 on the stand, was just what one did want, so it needed no intro- 

 duction to make me accompany this good Samaritan . We passed 

 into a small room below the judge's box, and there were sundry 

 and agreeable-looking bottles of which we partook, with much 

 mutual good-fellowship. Suddenly I espied the name on the 

 Member's Pass of my host. It was Leonard Jerome. 



I had already noticed that the design on the back of the race 

 card of the day was taken from one of St Stephen's St Leger 

 cartoons, in which Lord Randolph was represented as winning, 

 and I found Mr Jerome greatly pleased to meet someone who 

 supported his son-in-law politically by cartoons and otherwise 

 indeed I know not what dinners at the Union Club and other 



