(_By Mr. Punch's Own Prophet._)
THERE has been lately some racing at Kempton and various other places,
as to which, I ought perhaps to say a few words. Not that I acknowledge
a right in anyone to dictate to me how and when I shall notice matters
connected with the turf. The Bedlamites who mouth and gibber about
horses and their owners, as if they were in the constant habit of living
on terms of familiar intimacy with the aristocracy, instead of being, as
they probably are, the dumpling-headed parasites of touts and
stable-boys, are entitled only to the contempt of every decent man who
knows anything about what he professes to understand. At any rate, they
have mine. My knowledge of the Kempton Course dates back at least fifty
years. To be sure, it was not at that time a racecourse, but was mostly
ploughed fields and thickets. But if the anserous and asinine
mooncalves, whose high priest is Mr. JEREMY, suppose that that fact in
any way weakens the authority with which I may claim to speak on the
subject, I can only assure them, that they prove themselves fit inmates
for the various asylums from which they ought never to have been
withdrawn. I never thought much of _Philomel_. Ten years ago, I
observed, with regard to this animal, "_Philomel_ must be watched. There
is no knowing what a course of podophyllin and ginger might not do.
Failing that, I should feel inclined to say, buncombe." Mr. J. says,
this was a different mare. What of that? In turf matters the name is
everything, and I am therefore justified in citing this as one of the
most extraordinary instances of prescience known to the turf world.
_Megatherium_, I notice, has many admirers. As a horizontal bar, or
possibly as a clothes-line, he might have merits, but as a horse, I must
confess, he has little to recommend him. When _Loblolly Boy_ cantered
home for the East End Weight-for-age Welter Handicap, I said that the
son of _Rattlesnake_ could make mince-meat of all his rivals. Since then
he has made for his owner L5,000,000 in added money, at an initial
expense of twopence halfpenny for saveloys and onions, a combination of
which this splendid animal is particularly fond. _Loblolly Boy_ was by
_Rowdy_ out of _Hoyden_, and his pedigree mounts up to _Sallycomeup_,
_Kissmequick_, and _Curate on Toast_, whilst in the collateral line he
can claim kinship with _Artaxerxes_ and _Devil's Dustpan_. In the
Margate Open Sweepstakes, he ran second to _Daddy_, when the sea was as
smooth as an old halfcrown. If there had been wind enough to blow out a
wooden match, he must have won in a common hand-gallop.
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[Illustration: FELICITOUS QUOTATIONS.
_Maud (on crossing the boundary between Hertfordshire and the
neighbouring county, in which the Muzzling Order does not prevail)._
"THAT'S RIGHT! OFF WITH HIS MUZZLE! SO MUCH FOR _BUCKINGHAM!_"]
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