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CASUAL RAMBLINGS.

[BY miss TRAMP.]

ON THE ALTARS OP HIPPO.

WHAT DAD SAYS.

WRITTEN FOE TUB AUCKLAND WEEKLY NEWS.

Dad's Losses-Dead Birds—Qemini Burke— Sporting Scribjs — Christmas Eggs — Old Time's Whirligig - Captain Edwin's Weather Tip - Anglican Hilarity— Papal Banquet-The Ellcrslie Ilippoitroms-The Tunnel MiseryThe Barricade Bungle—Racing Results.

Poor Dad has lost all his money ab the races, and feels so depressed after "a Merry Christmas" ho finds himself quite too utterly unable to supply the copy promised the editor of the Auckland Weekly News to begin the New Year with.

Dad is so confiding, he believes anything that anybody tolls him about a horse. I never saw so simple a man. He has quite an army of friends in the sporting circles, all anxious to Bee him grow rich quickly, who, quite gonerously, tip him the name of the horse which is sure bo win, tolling him "its a dead bird" and nob to "give it away." So Dad backs all their tips and says nothing to nobody. Bub when the race is over, by somo sad mischance tho "doad bird" is not in Dad's gamebag. Dad eays nothing, bub he looks some things. Next raco ho comes up again smiling, "Gob it this time, girls." When it is finished he is aeon staring steadily ab nothing as per usual. I do really boliovo if Dad backed every horse in a race except one, that one would bo sure to win. And Dad's caso is that of ninety and nine out of every hundred who play with the totaliaator. However dead his " dead bird may bo, some "smarteo" is always suro to turn up with a still deader bird. What I have advised Dad to do is, never to back horses again, till he is sure ho has got hold of the Tory dearlesb bird. If Mr. Burke, whoever he is—Dad says he is twins— just happened to mention to Dad that Anita was a superlative dead bird for the Auckland Cud, Dad might have beon alive and kicking to-day, and had no occasion to join the Brokers'—dead Association. The only cons ilabion Dad finds in his misfortunes is tho number and variety of his associates whose " dead birds!' have proved wild cats. Notwithstanding the severe knock they received in the Gup race, I noticed Dad and his chums wero gonorous enough to cheer the Gemini Burkes' win. Dad says ib was a fair" do." Anita win he never wished to see— suppose ho means " a neater;" Dad is so obscure in his jokes, sometimes. The parties most successfully burked, Dad says, »?oro the handicappar and his critics, Poor Dad, as 1 was saying, being down in the dumps, and nob in a p.oper frame of mind to make things merry, yet anxious to keep faith with tho chief, deputed me to tako his placo and write something seasonable, serious, instructive, and interesting, for the Auckland Weekly News. It is a largo ordor, I know, but trusting to tho kind consideration which his many friend* among the roadors of this far-spreading journal havo always accorded to A Tramp Esq., I hope to make its fulfilment acceptable.

I don't know exactly where to begin, bub Dad says "Christmas!" quite sharp. Well, as most people are aware, Christmas, 189.), with its consequent poultry, and pudding and pio, is off," and " eggs aro down," lam so glad oggs are down, and 1 do hope all tho stale ones aro "off" with Christmas. Dad is very particular about his eggs—l suppose most gals pa's aro so. Dad says eggs liko Caesar's wife should be above suspicion. Cockneys have an objection to country eggs becauso they have no flavour—Dad is not a cockney with regard to eggs. Morry Christmas ninety-five just gono. Merry Christmas ninety-six seems to me a long time to look forward to. Bub Dad says the rapidity with which theao Christmasis (lash past on old time's merry-go-round really startles him. In tho bright morning of youth tho circumference of tho wheel seems so groat we think Fattier Tiino will never fetch Christmvs round again. In tho cloudy evening of lite we fancy the whirligig a very small whoel indeed, and that ib is spinning us round very much faster than we wish to go towards the judge's box and the white posts beyond which thero is no move race and no more plum pudding. This merrythought of Dad's did not strike mo as being quite appropriate to tho subjoct, and doubtful as to its relovancy I proposed we should talk about the weather.

" Indications strong north-east to north and west winds and glass fall," was the tip Captain Edwin sent us about the weather for Christmas ere. Dad of course took' ib as a doad bird tip, and went and bought a sixteen ribbed umbrella. We have had delightful weather evor since, and nice cool zephers blowing. Some people complain about the boat, bub Dad says ib is better to havo it now than in tbo winter —Dad, you know, likes everything in season.

1 wonder what they keep that Edwin for. He appears to re as well qualified to predict tho coming wei.ther as our sporting tipsters are to "pick" a possiblo Cup winnor. How doe* the great bellows-blower manage to lot that glass fall so often without breaking it, I wonder again ? Well, to go back to Christmas day and its merriments. Tho Anglicans spent a vory morry day. At St. Paul's they had four sorvice'J ; the firsb commencing at 7 a.m., and tho Insfo ab 7.30 p.m. Saint Matthew, who rises a littlo earlier than St. Paul, opened his gaioties at 6 a.m., and pub in six services, including Matins and Music. All Saints of Ponsonby bogs '•: their festivities at the early hour of 0 a.m. also, and " tho musio was oxtromoly good all through tho day, but especially at six." The attendance, however, was not so good as All Saints wished for. " Tho fallingoff," tho reportor naively remarks, " wis duo to tho very late hours kept by business people on Christmas Evo, and to tho fact that more heed is paid to taking holiday than to trie observances of church festivals." I ;hink so neither. It is really shameful that those irreverent conductors, drivors, and grooms of tho Tramway service, which tho saints of Ponsonby patronise to all hours of the night, should refrain from attending thoir church fostival, and listening to tho especially good music at six o'clock ; and just to think that "the outlined gilding on the dossal has bcon made solid, and the carvings on the lectern have boon stained, and tho now book rests on tho choir seats, covered with holy texts in crimson and gold," have been to a great extent wasted on a community who take a holiday instead of observing tho Church festivals. The other Anglican churches had all full programmes of sorvicos, carols, and music. Dad says tho Anglican mode of making a merry Christmas is just about as cheerful as battling all day with a totalisator and losing every race. Tho Holy Romans—rather more rational in their Christmas merrymaking than thoir Anglican frlonds— to import a feast into the proceedings. A real banquet by Bishop Luck and his priosts. The monks of old, if all the stories told of thorn bo true, were accomplished artiste in the bowl arid trencher line. Bishop Luck quite ovorlookod Dad, who is a shining light ab feeding functions— bib of bad luck for Dad, who has promised the good Father Walter bhat he will come to hischurcj, if hocannob do better olsewhore. What Dad is looking for is a church whore ib is all feasting and no fasting. The Wesleyans and Presbyterians are lying low till the new.year. ,' < Dad's idoa of a Morry Christmas was to have Ins breakfast in bod— ho had been out Into on Christmas Eve buying that sixteenribbed umbrolla, you know. Ho managed to get up and have a " tub " before dinner. I need hardly say he did his sha.ro'in the disposal of the turkey and. plum pudding. y Dad is quite orthodox on the Christmas pudding-doxy. Then he samples some grapes a friond had sent for his opinion. After dinner a cigarette, and a sleep, on the" sofa ' for tho rest of the afternoon. After tea more oigarottcs— ho 'smokes-.Qcdop's " Otto de Rose" now—a stroll.down town, i to - learn i if Great) } Britain, has , added tho

United States to her possessions, or to hear the latest news about the Cup, ends the day. Dad looks upon Christmas simply as an extra Sunday, and takes his day of rest accordingly, On Boring Day, as the gentle reader has no doubt already gathered, we went to the races. A lovelier day can scarcely be imagined. A bright sun shaded at intervals with fleecy clouds; a soft wind fanning the dry air with its cooling waves, and wafting the delicious fragrance of new mown hay in tho eager faces of the vast multitude assembled in Ellerslio's hippodrome mado the " day's outing " superlatively enjoyable. There are two drawbacks to the comfort of those who travel out by rail, one the five minutes gasping agony to be endured in the tunnel caused by tho volumes of hob steam and sulphurous smoko which fill the carriages, and givetheuufortunato occupants a foretaste of the atmosphere of the nether world. Surely ib ought to bo within the capacity of our railway engineers to vontilate that tunnel— not, why not? And the other tho absurd barricade which the traffic manageraenb has erected across the narrow platform, for the purpose of issuing race tickets. Those who want tickets, and those who do nob require them Are all jammed together. Women on these occasions sink their rights under the franchise and allow their male relatives to get their tickets for them. The railway management, however did nob overlook our locus standi and give us bhe full benefit of the Act. I have heard of Scotch navigation, bub I never saw it so brutally exemplified before Dad says a traffic manager's duty is to provont a crush, nob to create one. I should advise that management to remove that barrier before Dad starts on the warpath, Whoop A description of tho day's racing, finished in stylo and full in detail by our able and accomplished sporting reporters, appears in another column, so I shall only givo a bare outline of the sport as I saw it. In the first race, Mr. Stead's Musketry peppered Mr. George Wright's Doris. Dad, observing "certain of tho Jews" backing their countryman's representative, did so likewise. When Musketry won, he said something in Hebrew that souuded like dochandoris.

Mr. Stead's win was received in solemn silence, like tho toast of a dead Mason. Mr. Stead is, I behove, the great racing panjandrum of Canterbury, bub I don't envy him his popularity. His twin horo is Mr. Thomas Morrln. They aro the Castor and Pollux of the sporting firmament. For bho Great Northern Foal Stake" the three favourites were Armilla, Defiance, and St. Paul, in that order, as the tipsters are wont to say. Thore was a muddled start, and Defiance was left ab the post. Dad says the A.R.C. starter is quite as successful with the machine as he was with the flag. The apostle stood nob upon tho order of his going, but went at) ouco, and the Castor bracelot, although she did nob disgraco her mother, Necklace, «vas beaten by a couple of lengths. Dad says the Castor wins aie due bo bho Muskob blood on tho dam's side, and not to tho sire's merits. Saint Paul's was a popular win; tho public wore ploased to see the secretary beat the chairman. Dad, of course, backed the horse that was left at tho post. Then camo the Cup. Dad hoard thab St. Hippo could do The Possible, and that the (W)right pooplo wero piling the shekels on the champion, so he went and ell:' likewise. Bub he was left with tho Children of Israel to eat manna in the wilderness.

In tho Hurdlos, the favourite, Dante, could not "skip with" Ladybird. Dante is a Rangitikel horse, and Dad having seen him win r.L Wanganui and Foilding, made qivte sura bo could win here, and told all his frionds so. Ho is keeping out of their way tor ints present. Dad says ib was " Inferno " bad luck for Dante nob to win.

In the Railway Handicap, Mr. Morrin and tho " children " made a slight recovery on Forma. Bab Dad stood off chat raco. I think ho was having lunch— tho Club's expense, you may be sure. The Nursery was won by Sb. Ouida. "Tho Crook of McOuiness on him 1" Dad said, bub I really do not know what he mount. He was on two outsidei'3 that time.

In tho Pony Cup Dad pot a Talisman, and tho charm worked splondidly; till tho next race.

The Christmas Handicap—when Sb. Rogcl lost, and dispelled Dad's dream of luck. It was a merry rnco, and Dad ought to have gone on the winner, being a bit of a Fabulist himself. We did not waife to see any more races after that.

P.S.—Dad has just returned from tho Auckland Trotting Club's meeting at Epsom, worse broke than ever. It seems the Financial Editor of the Herald told him the way to win money off the totalisator was to back every horso in the race. Tho first raco ho tried it on paid a dividend of twelve shillings! Thank goodness thoy wore only ten shilling tickets, or I don'b know however Dad would havo got homo, without pawning his umbrella.

Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/NZH18960104.2.73

Bibliographic details

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXIII, Issue 10019, 4 January 1896, Page 1 (Supplement)

Word Count
2,280

CASUAL RAMBLINGS. New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXIII, Issue 10019, 4 January 1896, Page 1 (Supplement)

CASUAL RAMBLINGS. New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXIII, Issue 10019, 4 January 1896, Page 1 (Supplement)

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