COMBINATION OF CONTRADICTIONS. 179 



complaint when they took the mare away from him the 

 following spring and turned her over, for the "grand prep- 

 aration," to a swell trainer. Finally, when the workout 

 days of June came again and the "apple of their eye" could 

 not trot a quarter better than forty seconds, rigged with 

 the best that money could buy, they took a tumble. The 

 mare was taken home, her owners bought a yacht, and the 

 trainer told Fasig the story. 



From the day that I first met William B. Fasig, until 

 the end, I found him a combination of contradictions. 

 His sympathies were always with the weaker side, but 

 even with that knowledge to bank on, no one could deter- 

 mine in advance what stand he would take on any propo- 

 sition, from flipping a copper to a change in the Constitu- 

 tion of the United States. Then he had his hobbies, and 

 when in the saddle he could make Uncle Toby look like a 

 blue chip in a jack pot. To convince him with an argu- 

 ment was out of the question, but if you were satisfied 

 that you were right, if you walked off and left him for a 

 day or two, he would wheel into line. His vanity, and he 

 had no small share of that quality, would not let him ad- 

 mit it ; but if he did not take up the argument again on 

 sight, he was with you. For many a day it was a hard 

 matter for Fasig to say a good word of any one who dif- 

 fered with him, but when he was with you, like Jack 

 Batchelor's poker game, the limit of his support was 

 bounded by the green earth and the blue sky. 



When completing this memoir, instead of giving my 

 estimate of William B. Fasig as a horseman, advertiser, 

 reinsman, writer and a man, I requested a few of those 

 who knew him best to contribute a few lines. It was a 

 happy idea, as will be seen by the following : 



