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Sun (Christchurch), Volume I, Issue 108, 12 June 1914, Page 6

Carbine has gone the way of all horseflesh, be it "weed" or classic winner. Back in IS9O, at Flemington, a New Zealand-bred chestnut broke all records in the biggest handicap race in the world, the Melbourne Cup, by carrying lOst 51b to victory in the wonderful time of omin. 28-Jsec. It was the culmination of a series of brilliant successes —a performance, that sent 100,000 people crazy with delight and enthusiasm. Australasia and the sporting world at Home, too, thrilled with the achievement —henceforward Carbine's name and fame were to rank equal at least with the greatest racehorses the world has produced. That cup night, ir. Melbourne, newsboys became suddenly rich, and it was the toast, "Old Jack,'' Until dawn. The populace that evening would have canonised the champion had it been in their power. Men called to men—utter strangers —to ask had they seen the son of Musket literally dragged up to the starting post, his ears flapping lazily, his trainer jogging him with a stockwhip. That Tuesday Carbine set the seal on his fame by putting the feather-weighted Highborn—"tried" to win a, fortune with another two stone on his back— i into second place, and exploding one of the biggest coups ever attempted in the old ante-post betting days. In sooth, the chestnut was a champion over any and all distances, and in days when such great horses as Abercprn, Melos, Marvel, Dreadnought, and others were on dock. ThertNare men who saw the two great in action who" still aver that Abercorn was Carbine's equal, but their arguments, are fulL of ; "ifs." f Racegoers simply worshipped the New Zealander for his laziness before a race, and his generous running when the task called for his best. When there were giants on the turf, he was good enough to win 33 times in 43 starts, and. only oiice was he out of a place—ably, when everything is taken into account, a record without parallel in the hi story of racing. The last two or three years the old horse has been growing very decrepit, and there comes a time for all old and respected racehorses when the merciful bullet is the best thing. It is something to know that while men breed and race thoroughbreds, the gallant chestnut, the aforetime pride of the Australian turf, will never be forgotten. He will be used as a standard by which champions of the future will be measured.