MORVICH 



name as yet, and for that I am thankful. When 

 we run the Derby tomorrow, my friend, I do 

 not want upon me a jockey of thirty years who 

 has made his quarter million. Such a one 

 hears little voices whisper to him when there 

 comes a little hole in the ruck ahead. "TuU 

 wide, pull wide," these little voices say, 'you 

 have made your name and fortune. Live to 

 enjoy them. Why take a chance at this late 

 day on being spilled and put out of the game 

 for life?" So he pulls wide, and the race is 

 lost. The horse was willing, but not the boy. 

 No; give me the ambitious youngster, with all 

 the world ahead, name and fortune to be made. 

 He will send me into that hole, his heart as 

 stout as mine, and we will go through. 



Their voices die away; naught comes now 

 but an occasional snore from a stableboy, or 

 the movement of some horse in his stall; the 

 scattered lights in the stables go out one by 

 one; the night grows late; it is time for me 

 to give over these reflections and get some 



—43— 



