MATT LAIRD AND RUBENSTEIN. 



A few years ago, at Windsor, Ont., there flashed upon 

 the public, meteor-like, a handsome, highly-bred stallion, 

 then unknown to the horse fraternity, and unthought of 

 by the professional pool followers. He was entered by a 

 modest young man from Mansfield, Ohio, and I remember 

 the remark of a shrewd bettor when he first saw the young 

 fellow : "Now, I don't know where he comes from, nor 

 anything about his horse, but I'll bet he isn't up here to 

 buy peanuts or gingerbread, or to smuggle a bottle of 

 'Mohickinville liquor' across the border; so I'll just 'keep 

 cases' on that 'slick' looking young man and his good- 

 looking stallion." The "young fellow" was Matt Laird, 

 and the horse Rubenstein, and what the pair did to the 

 other drivers and horses, and the pool buyers "was a 

 plenty," for they "spread-eagled" the race "for fair," and 

 philosopher "Benny" sighed as he said, "I made up my 

 mind to watch that pair, but forgot it, and now they have 

 got my money — and about everybody else's." 



A person with experience in any business knows more 

 about that business than the same person without exper- 

 ience would. 



