THE METAIRIE COURSE. 21 



"As for the race, it was never run off, as that night 

 Sorrel Billy kicked down one side of his stall an-d im- 

 paled himself on the splintered end of a scantling 

 which supported the partition. He was dead when 

 they found him. The following year a man from the 

 other side of the river screwed up enough courage to 

 buy a corner of 'the commons/ and as the lot cut into 

 the track the gallopers had to do the balance of their 

 racing on the road." 



"Reckon he did it to get even like a gent down our 

 way," broke in the smooth voice of the New Orleans 

 party. "In the days before the war New Orleans was 

 the most important racing point outside of New York. 

 The planters would come down there for a frolic and 

 when their blood was up they thought nothing of 

 betting a bunch of niggers or a crop of cotton across 

 the green cloth or on the old Metairie course providing 

 they could find a gentleman to bet with. They were 

 very particular on that point, so much so that they 

 kept their set as exclusive as New York's '400.' 



"At the time I speak of the New Orleans club was 

 very select and to be admitted to membership a man 

 had to be considered a gentleman of family as well as 

 have the where-withal to settle with should he happen 

 to take hold of the wrong end of a betting proposition. 

 Upon a certain occasion a local gentleman who had 

 either made his money over the cloth or in the lottery, 

 I do not now remember which, if either, presented an 

 application to join the club and was blackballed. It 

 riled him, as after winning his way in the world he 

 wanted to be a gentleman among gentlemen, but the 

 club members did not look at it in that way. They 

 believed that gentlemen, like race horses, were bred 



