178 CANADIAN TURF RECOLLECTIONS 



A DAY OF SENSATIONAL LUCK. 



You can call it blind luck or any other name you prefer, 

 I am not troubling myself about what would be the most 

 suitable term to apply to it; I am simply relating a cir- 

 cumstance that occurred a few years ago at the Saratoga 

 race meeting, and as the facts of the case came under my 

 personal observation, I can vouch for the truthfulness 

 of the story. 



As I was leaving my hotel on the day in question to 

 drive to the track, the manager introduced to me a gen- 

 tleman whom I had previously noticed was a guest at the 

 hotel. I had been keeping a carriage waiting for ten 

 minutes at the door to accommodate a friend, also a 

 guest, who was going out with me, but at the last mo- 

 ment had changed his mind, and as there were but a few 

 minutes in which to reach the course before the racing 

 commenced, I was making all possible haste to get away. 

 The gentleman in question was also anxious to get to the 

 track, and I was asked if I would be willing for him to 

 drive out with me. Satisfied to have his company, the 

 necessary permission was given. 



On the way out he told me that this was his last day 

 at the Springs. He had spent a pleasant two weeks' 

 holiday, but frankly confessed that he had not been a 

 success in guessing the ponies. He said he had brought 

 $400 with him for his expenses and of this he had a ten- 

 dollar bill left with which to make a final plunge. He 

 had provided himself with a return ticket, paid for his 

 reservation in the Pullman and an additional $5 for 

 provisions on the road. This was securely packed away 

 in his valise, and he proposed investing the remaining 

 $10 on the longest shot on the board in the first race. 

 Mentally, I concluded that he would likely be wiped out 

 in short order, but as it is never safe, in such cases, to 



