Now I ask any
rational man who may have been tempted to bet, Is it worth while? Leave
out the morality for the present, and tell us whether you think it
business-like to risk your money when you know that neither a horse's
speed nor a trainer's skill will avail you when once an acute crew of
sharpers have settled that a race must not be won by a certain animal.
The miserable creature whose case has served me for a text was tried at
home during the second week of April; he carried four stone more than
the very useful and fast horse which ran against him, and he merely
amused himself by romping alongside of his opponent. Again, when he took
a preliminary canter before the drug had time to act, he moved with
great strength and with the freedom of a greyhound; yet within three
minutes he was no more than an inert mass of flesh and bone. I say to
the inexperienced gambler, "Draw your own conclusions, and if, after
studying my words, you choose to tempt fortune any more, your fate--your
evil fate--be on your own head, for nothing that I or any one else can
do will save you."
Not long before the melancholy and sordid case which I have described,
and which is now gaining attention and rousing curiosity everywhere, a
certain splendid steeplechaser was brought out to run for the most
important of cross-country races.
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