THE BEGINNING. 



'Twas on the famous trotting ground, 



The betting men were gathered round 



From far and near; the "cracks" were there 



Whose deeds the sporting prints declare. 



There, too, stood many a noted steed 



Of Messenger and Morgan breed! 



Green horses also, not a few, 



Unknown as yet what they could do. Holmes. 



It had been a severe day. Colonel Edwards had 

 kept the ponies going from one o'clock until seven and 

 when the last heat was decided there was scarcely 

 enough light left to distinguish the horses as they 

 passed under the wire. All of the races were badly 

 snarled. Betting ring and bad actors, did you say? 

 Well a little of both possibly, although it is not well to 

 admit too much in these days of adverse legislation 

 and investigation committees. For the present pur- 

 pose it is enough to say it was a hard day for the scrib- 

 blers who are expected to get their stories on the wire 

 or on the city editor's desk before nine o'clock and 

 write them on an empty stomach. 



On this day in particular there was very little 

 victuals to be had. Being forced to skip lunch on ac- 

 count of the hour at which the first race was called, 

 the only refreshment which came my way was a 

 chicken sandwich and a meat pie and by that I know 

 it was Thursday, the big day, as for twenty-three 

 years Miss Walton had on each Thursday of race 

 week sent the Cleveland judges a basket of meat pies. 



