Yes; the
betting-ring is a bad school of morality, and the man who goes there as
a fool and a victim too, often blossoms into a rogue and a plunderer.
With all this in my mind, I press my readers to understand that I leave
the ethics of wagering alone for the present, and confine my attention
strictly to the question of expediency. What is the use of wearing out
nerve and brain on pondering an infinite maze of uncertainties? The
rogues who command jockeys and even trainers on occasion can act with
certainty, for they have their eye on the very tap-root of the Turf
upas-tree. The noodles who read sporting prints and try to look knowing
can only fumble about among uncertainties; they and their pitiful money
help to swell the triumphs and the purses of rascals, and they fritter
away good brain-power on calculations which have no sound basis
whatever. Let us get to some facts, and let us all hope in the name of
everything that is righteous and of good report that, when this article
is read, some blind feather-brains may be induced to stop ere the
inevitable final ruin descends upon them. What has happened in the
doleful spring of this year? In 1887 a colt was brought out for the
first time to run for the greatest of all Turf prizes.
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