153 



contribute to preserve, forever and forever, the tone of social exercises 

 that lias for many years cliaracterized, season after season, every annual 

 festival of the South Carolina Jockey Club. For the benefit of all con- 

 cerned, tlen, who are to come after us, we furnish a copy of the words 

 of this truly graphic and justly admired production : 



THE HIGH-METTLED RACER. 



-See the Course thronged .with gazers ! the sports are begun ; 

 The confusion but hear! " I'll bet you, sir"—" Done ! — done!" 

 Ten thousand strange clamors resound far and near; 

 Lords, hawkers and jockeys assail the tired ear. 

 While with neck like a rainbow, erecting his crest, 

 Pampered, prancing and pleased, his nose touching his breait, 

 Scarcely snuffing the air, he's so proud and elate, 

 The high-mettled racer starts ficA'-^r the plate. 



Now Reynard's turned out, and o'er hedge and ditch rush 

 Hounds, horses and huntsmen, all hard at his brush ; 

 They run him at length, and they have him at bay, 

 And by scent and by view cheat a long tedious way ; 

 While alike born for sports (Tf the field and the Course, 

 Always sure to come through, a staunch and fleet horse^ 

 When fairly run down the fox yields. up his breath, 

 The high-mettled racer is in at the death. 



Grown aged, used up, and turned out of the stud, 



Lame, spavined, and wir.d-galled, but yet with some blood, 



While knowing postillions his pedigree trace. 



Tell his dam won that sweepstakes, his sire gained this race « 



And what matches he won too the ostler's count o'er. 



As they loiter their time at some hedge alehouse door ; 



While the harness sore galls, and the^spurs his sides goad, 



The high-mettled i-acer's a hack on the road. 



Till at last having labored, drudged early and late, 

 Bowed down by degrees, he bonds to his fate ; 

 Blind, old and feeble, he tugs round a mill. 

 Or draws sand, till the sand of his hourglass stands still. 

 And now cold and lifeless, exposed to the view, 

 In the very same cart which he yesterday drew, 

 While a pitying crowd his sad relics surrounds, 

 The high-mettled racer is sold for the hounds. 



