COLONIAL LIFE AND CHARACTER.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 250, 19 October 1907, Page 14

COLONIAL LIFE AND CHARACTER.

CASUAL IMPRESSIONS. (From the "New Zealand Graphic".) A DAY'S RACING HERE AND "AT HOME." Exactly why o?.e has chosen this particular subject for the current week's effusion, it is perhaps hard to say, save that the season of the "legitimate" approaches, j On the surface, of course, racing here, or in Australia, on the Continent, in the Argentine, or on one of the famous courses of England, is very similar. Curiously enough by the way, though I have often been north of the Tweed, 1 have never seen a race, in Scotland, nor can I at the moment recall where are the famous racing courses of that part of the British Isles, but for the rest of the Empire, and outside it to a fair ex--tent, I have seen my share, and claim, therefore, to speak with some authority when one says that nowhere in the world dees one get more for one's money than in New Zealand. Greater luxury (in some ways) you assuredly obtain on such courses as Sandown, Goodwood, and Kempton, or nowadays Ascot, but you pay through the nose for it, and tlie said luxury is not so' very much greater after all, unless, indeed, you have a passion for being exclusive and can influence, coax or bribe (which has been done) your way into one of the" so-called Koyal enclosures, where the crush is usually as great and the dresses set ,the example of everything else in | extra expense, and that is all.

But your best and most striking example of the extra cheapness and comfort of racing of New Zealand over England is to be seen by instancing Epsom. The race express specials to the course station run their fastest trains for firstclass passengers only, and the return fare is somewhere about 15/ if I recollect rightly—there are other trains, of course, but not for the wise—and should you -want to drive down you must out with your cheque book for a substantial sum, what, I don't know, for I never did it. My nearest approach was a seat on one of the many four-in-hands which start from the Metropole, Cecil, and other great caravanseries of London, and on which you can, if you will book a seat (luncheon included) for a fiver, which plan a brother colonial and I visiting London in Persimmon's year took, and found it, all things considered, a cheap enough proposition, as will presently appear.

Say, however, you go down by race special. If, at the course station you (foolishly) take a cab, that will mean five to ten shillings a seat, according to the Jehu's judgment of your pocket and the extent of your foolishness. But the wjfclk is, of course, the thing, and here, if you spend a few shillings you are well repaid. There are, first and foremost, a class of persons you will find neither on nor near the approaches to any colonial racecourse. These are the cheap tipsters. The most humble will sell you a. race-card, with all the winners marked, for a few pence above the usual and official price of the i-ard —a vilely printed, huge, heavy, and uncomfortable production, of which more anon. But the Simon Pure is a more entertaining fellow and well worthy a moment's pause if you are not shy of being personally addressed, and perhaps chaffed by the clever rascal, whose tongue runs on with never-ending patter.

"All the winners! All the winners, gentlemen! I have got the real thing for you to-day, and ho blooming error. The day before yesterday I gave five out of seven events; but to-day, strike mc pink " —or words to that effect —" I've got the whole lot straightened out, and if aT *y g en t likes to come back and tell mc it's not so after the fourth race (that's a peach, gents) I'll give him his money back and a yellow boy into the bargain! Now, then, only a bob—only a bob! " And, strange as it may seem, he and hi- l--fellows (and there will be a dozen of them) drive a roaring trade. The police interfere if the crowds are getting over great, but they know their hands will be full before the day is out, and wink at a good deal that goes on in this comparatively innocent way, knowing how many dangerous sharps there are to keep eyes upon. Of these more hereafter, for their absence from our New Zealand racecourses is at once remarkable and satisfactory, and renders them comparatively safe, even for the greatest young (or old) greenhorn who thinks he knows the world, and is, therefore, the very easiest prey to the practised, educated, and usually most plausible sharp.

Arrived at the Epsom course, the grandstand and stand enclosure cost you a couple of sovereigns, and this does not include the paddock (which no colonial would possibly miss), this running to ten shillings more. Lunch at various prices is served in rooms on the stand. A cheap (and incredibly nasty) one is provided at the figure of seven and six, with, say, a shilling for the waiter, who will pester you with a list of second-rate champagnes, and be as insolently rude as be sees you will stand if you refuse and demand whisky and soda.

The authorities at Epsom have, I believe, during the last year or so made improvements in this matter, but before I left the Old Country, more years back than one cares to remember, and when I visited it many seasons later, in the great St. Frusquin and Persimmon year, things were as said, and the colonial visitor to Riecarton or Eilerslie for the New Zealand or Auckland Cups gets just as good racing and plenty of it, and look at the difference in expense. The train or tram is but a shillinp; or so, the stand a halfsovereign, including paddock, and we growl at half a crown to three shillings for a lunch which is infinitely better than that served at even ten shillings at Epsom, though, if the truth be told, nastiness pervades all racecourse lunches, and ours in New Zealand are not exempt. Randwick and Flemington are the best in this respect this side of the line, so far as I know.

But it is, in the warning off, or the natural absence of swindlers and sharps, that our courses are singularly fortunate. One very common and frequently worked dodge may be mentioned which any sharp whose .confidence you may gain, will tell you "rarely fails to come off providing the " mug" is duly selected, and the eyes of the secret police (who are no secrets) can be avoided. The victim is standing looking at the number board as the figures go up for the second race. A well, quidtly dressed, and somewhat diffident-man-nered gentleman requests the loan of his pencil, the courtesy is extended, and it is then that the sharp takes stock, and judges if it is safe to proceed. If so, conversation on the day, the crowd, or what not probably springs up, the stranger being rather more reserved than the mug, if anything, but adroitly judging step by step how far he can go. When he thinks the tune is fit, some signal is given, and up hurries the confederate, who stands a foot or so off, giving every sign of annoyance and impatience at finding his friend in converse with a stranger (the victim). At last he rushes up, says roughly that he can't wait any longer, thrusts a bundle of notes to obviously a large amount into tile polite pencil borrower's hands. He draws hi mapart, and in an mudible whisper expostulates with him for speaking to strangers, and hurries off again. Laughing gently, the deferential gentleman rejoins the " mug," carefully noting just how much or how little this little pantomime has impressed him. If all appears to be going well, he leisurely counts the notes, which amount to, say, £200, and after putting them in an inner pocket, remarking, " You can't be too careful on a race-course," goes on to observe that "a couple of hundred is better than nothing ever the first race." If the " mug" is ripe, and agrees, the confederate will again hurry up and remark that he has " got it on" for the next race. Then ensues some pretty by-play; the polite one asks the surly one to let the " mug " (they have each others' names by this time, probably) " stand in." This is churlishly refured, and a row seems imminent; but the surly one gives in, and rapidly shows himself a decent fellow enough, but, as his friend remarks, " a rough diamond." The "mug" is led away to drink, and then over the drink informed he is " on" for whatever the precious pair think him likely to stand. Perhaps a fiver to start with, but very likely more. If he objects right out he is left -with imprecations, but if things are working smoothly the trio keep together while the race is won (or lost). If the good thing has come off the surly man (now the most genial of rough diamonds) rushes off to " collect the stuff," and there is more "Wine, which the polite

man shouts. The surly one does not turn up again until the next race is started, when he informs his companions that all the winnings are upon " So and So," who is a moral; and that if it comes off they've made a pot. Of coiirse it doesn't, and the " Mug" is condoled with over more " fizz," and so the game -goes on until the " Mug"

is . dry or " tumbles." If the first spec, goes down, the " Mub" has, to part, and, if he demurs, is first threatened and abused, and then very possibly " dealt with " by some band of rorighs at some gate through which lie desires to pass. If, of course, he sees through the game in time, and threatens police, or, better stiil, seeks them, he is fairly safe, though then the "dealing with" may have to be reckoned with, and has been most savagely carried out in the train cominr; hack. Which reminds me—but that's another story. From blackguards like this, with a score of tricks of which this is the simplest and commonest, the colonial racecourse is clear. Perhaps the field is too small, perhaps we are wider awake (though I have seen, two very smart colonials " taken down" at Home with just as simple a swindle), but probably the tote—enabling each man to do his own betting easily and in comfort—is the chief reason the fraternity do not try the dodge on out here. i

In many matters considered of minor importance in England, but which do much to make or mar one's enjoyment of a day's racing,- New Zealand is quite immeasurably above the Mother Country. The question of the race-card is, as previously mentioned, a particularly notable one. In England the race card is literally a card —a card of the coarsest possible type, vilely printed, with no information, and which becomes pulp if a shower of rain comes up. There is, needless to say, no information on a previous day's running, no perforated slips for sweeps, no plan of the course—in fact, no nothing. A greater abortion than the English race-card, to colonial eyes, is not to be found.

There are no numbers on the saddle cloths, and you must pick your horse solely by his colours —no easy thing to do ■where the variety is legion, as is the case when there is a big field. Of course the "silk" of such world-famous stables as those of the King, the Dukes of Westminster and Portland, and a few others are well known even to the tyro, but as there are literally hundreds of others the casual visitor to the races knows as much of what is going on as if he stopped at home or betted "on the tape."

Minor comforts are unknown on the English racecourse, and as for the sanitary and "wash and brush up" arrangements, they are best left untalked about. Many- other points there are, but to plunge into the biggest of them—the betting with " bookies " and the manners and customs of these gentry —-would absorb too much space, and must be left over for another week.