£500 LOST BY A DREAM.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1511, 14 February 1901, Page 6

£SOO LOST BY A DREAM.

x33> HOW O'TIiER-S HAVE DREAMER TOO-

GENTLE “BACKERS’ ” LITTLE SUPERSTITIONS..

(“Dispatch” Special;)

The other day irf the Bankruptcy Court a debtor explained how he had lost £Odo over Afracldng a horse which he saw vln a certain race-in a dream ! . . Well betting on snc-h “lniormavura,' 6r information equally bad, u s by no means uncommon. ■ , The late Lord Vivian had a cream that a horse called Tc-acher won the City and Suburban of 1874. When a man dreams of winners he usually ascribes it to divine agency and placidly arrives at the conclusion that a boneficient dispensation is putting him ni a position to exploit his fellow-man out of his ready cash.

So was it upon the occasion in (question, and like a Pharaoh of old his “spirit .was troubled.”

In consequence of his perturbation he discussed matters with his friends generally, among others Lord Rosebery, ivjw the “Primrose Earl,” although no Joseph at that period, not having been a Prime Minister, was equal to that occasion. , „ , . “My horse Aldrich was formerly ended Teacher he said, ‘(but, I can hardly advise you to back him.” . • “Hook and Eye,” for such was Loro. Vivian’s nickname, owing possilny to his pertinacity, was not to be clnllen on his fancy,' but went straightway and booked 1000 to 40 twice. How Alarum carried the primrose and lose hoops cl the Earl to victory after a desperate finish is a matter of Turf history. Morbey, who rode him in an finish, could tell us all about it, and, by the same token, this reminds us time the said Mr Morbey is now a great landowner down Bnxing way, and the patron of two or three livings in the v-hurph, which shows the advantage of liding winners. Here, however, we must give muse. The present writer dreamed that ue was sitting in his- rooms, and st iiiend entered who made the remark, “I suppose you

know St. Gatien will win the Derby ?” This was on the Son day preceding Ihe race for the Glue Ilibaud of On the following day the friend entered the writer’s rooms, just with the same aeticn that he had done in the dream, and made the identical speech that he Lad done “in the pallid realms of _ sleep-' J Straightway the "writer interviewed a bookmaker and took sixteens to win and fours for a place St. Gatrcn. ■St. Gatien did not win, did he lose, as he ran a dead- heat with Harvester. Again, previous to the decision of me Cesarowitch in that year, the writer dreamed that St. Gatien had won the race, and that Sir iteuben’s name appeared on the number board at I\c-w----rnarket as the winner of the Cambridgeshire. Accordingly he took a doubleevent bet to win, £2OOO. After St. Gatien had won the Cesarewitch ill a canter, prudent- friends quoted the adage that a bet is never a good hep until it is well hedged, hut the writer was too undefeated a sportsman to be guided by such wise counsels at the time, so he stood it out and lest as money, as Mr John Hammond’s Florence created a record by carrying 9.st lib to victory. The loss of the money, however, was not half the shock that was conveyed by the dream “coming unglued,” as the boys say.

We recollect a gentleman who wrote persistently to the sporting newspapers informing all and singular that his wife had in a. dream seen a grey horse win the Derby. As suen an event has never occurred, and as many thought it was about time for a grey to get home first, the animal, whose name escapes us ap the moment, was well backed, but failed to finish in the first three. Hie cynics then said the prophet in question must have been betting against the horse, but as the husoand of the fair dreamer only knew enough about horses to tell which end went first the supposition was incorrect. Indeed, to the initiated such is apparent on the face of -it, as none bub a new hand ’would have adopted the course.

Your experienced turfite has usually worn out the superstition of signs and coincidences, which, be it added, a life of excitement is sure to engender. It may not be known to the uninitiated that- there is still a superstition among some of the faithful at Newmar-

ket anent the late Fred Archer

As the

, reader probably recollects, the unfortui n ate jockey shot himself, with a revolver presented to him by one of his / best friends, during a fit of delirium brought about by fever. The fact of so tragic an end, in which the gift of an

intimate friend played so prominent a part, was enough' for the mystery-mon-gers, so that certain of the superstition believe that on stormy nignts, when •black clouds occasionally obscure the glimpses of the moon, the great horseman, "in such questionable shape,” comes and rides his races over again. Such appearances are said to be more frequent immediately preceding the Houghton gathering at Newmarket; as not only was poor Fred Archer said to have been a heavy loser over the big race, but wasted! very hard in order to reduce himself to weight. Furthermore, never having ridden a winner of the Cambridgeshire, he coveted to add it to his other successes; and had the mortification of being beaten, after riding a wonderful race, by “Tiny” White on- The

Sailor Prince. In the Birdcage, before the race, he was confident, but looked terribly ill. “Archer looks like a corpse,” said a

friend to the writer; yet he ay as confident, and laughing said, “I shall win, and can then build up and have a- bit of hunting!”

If a ghostlike presentment had the appearance of poor ; Archer after the race it would be calculated' to strike terror into most believers in supernatural visitations, as chagrin and loss of .money, upon a terrible fast and' the weakening effect of Turkish baths had even then written death upon his face. Let mo' add that there was an old gentleman at Newmarket, now dead, who was wont to insist that whenever the wraith appeared the top-weight was to win a coming great handicap at headquarters. We wonder whether the ghostly presentment of the old gentleman in question is to be seen book and pencil in hand “backing his fancy” with the shades of thedeparted leviathian of the 'ring, and whether, when the race is over, instead of the babel of the flesh-clad layers of odds they hear “a- loud horse-laugh up in the air!” betokening that the favourite, steered by the great horseman, has ‘ go t home” a gain ! All the foregoing, however, is such stuff as dreams are made of. Taken on the average, all • hut the professional gamblers are apt to go to work in .so haphazard a fashion that they usually lose. Furthermore, it can be safely asserted that far more fortunate gamblers die in want than in affluence, and this because, as they phrase it mystically, “the luck has turned” arid “they cannot do right.” “I hope you enjoyed your luncheon,” said an old-time gambler to the writer a few days back. “I saw you go in and waited. Lend mo sixpence to' go home with? Queer, isn’t it? I won £20,000 over the Waterloo Cup once and now I have to borrow sixpence.” But is this an isloated case? Not by any means. Winning by gambling is not to he ensured by the greatest circumspection. It is safer to he a bookmaker than a backer, generally speak-

ing, but the sportsman, just mentioned who borrowed the sixpence was a bookmaker.

The boy who was prompted to he -not" 1 afraid of work because he could lie down, and go to sleep beside it at any time* much resembled tits?* average public-house frequenters who go in with a Hew to having a drink and a bet. There is this difference, however—the sleep-loving youth, does not endure the nerve racket -which falls to the lot of the 'boozing bettor. Betting is not work in the strict sense of the word, but its pursuit usually unfits a man for any other form of labour. The endeavour to obtain information, “looking up the fc-rra” of horses in racing guides, calculating odds and chances,,; seeking the bookmaker to arrange the bet, and l the intervaHof excitement*' before the race is decided. usually precludes' the possibility of attending, properly to anything "else, ■so that the day slips by, win or lose;, without anything else to show, as a rule." Whether bookmaker or backer wins, the caterer of refreshments usually benefits,' and big wins on. either side generally swell the merchant’s receipts.

The publican is of course a victim in his turn, n he happens to be a gambler and possessed' of sufficient credulity. There are numbers of loafers frequenting public-houses whose' plan is simplicity itself. Knowing the- landlord is fond of a -et, they, before a big race, visit, perhaps, a dozen different hosteieries, and, ordering a drink, mysteriously whisper the certain winner of the coming event. To each of the twelve landlords, however they whisper the name of a ent horse, keeping careful mentaj coant as to which horse was assigned to each landlord. After the race they go and sponge upon the landlords to whom they gave first, second anu third horses, and,, if possible, condole wrA. the others. The trick is as old as the hills, but still seems to work, more especially if the loafer is well dressed.

We once "saw an amusing variation of it, wherein the biter was bit.

The landlord of a, prosperous hotel, who was himself a bookmaker, ill the habit of betting in his saloon bar with men he knew.

It was the St. Leger Day of 1894. Three rogues plotted a, coup, and the landlord was to be the victim of it. Two of them were to be. in the saloon bar*, and the third was to wait at a neighbouring club, and as soon as the winner came up on the tape was to hurry into the saloon and order a drink.

A code was arranged! thus: If Ladas won the clubman was -to ask for brandy and soda; if Matchbox, whisky and soda; while Amiable was represented by a glass of sherry, and None the Wiser by bitter. Then one of the seated confederates, who had been in the bar for an hour previously, was to ask the clubman casually whether he knew what had won the- Leger, and casually remark that he had been told that so-and-so would win and had forgotten it, and ask the landlord to lay it-, trusting that he, knowing that neither had left the saloon, would have no suspicion of any collusion .

All went well until the club confederate walked in. He looked crest-fallen, and: one of the rascals said jocularly, “Well, that is a pretty face. Come, cheer up. What will you take ?” “I won’t take anything. Yes. I’ll take a cigar.” Delighted: with this'apparent side-play, the other said, “So you shall, if you have a drink ; but you musn’t have one without the other. How’s the guv’nc-r to live?” ; “I tell you I won’t have a drink!” This incensed th*e: tale on-rested rascal: added to which he had imbibed not wisely but too well (while’ waiting for the result. Conceiving that he was being fooled, he darted at the clubman, and, seizing him by the throat, shook him, shouting the while, “'Say something now! Which is it, brandy, whisky, sherry, or what?”

Incensed by .the. treatment and the failure of the plot the victim hit out to free himself, and gasped : . “Ik ain’t none of ’em. You big thief! Throstle’s won, and it ain’t in the code!

The trio do' net use that saloon bar now.