MY MOTHER-IN-LAW’S ADVICE.

New Zealand Times, Volume LXVII, Issue 3348, 2 February 1898, Page 1 (Supplement)

MY MOTHER-IN-LAW’S ADVICE.

A TALE OP THE WELLINGTON CUP.

[By " Sentinel.”]

(Author of “ A Frustrated Swindle,” “ Not so Black as Painted," , fc.J

"When I married I promised to cut racing and the fascinations of the turf ■ not that I was a plunger or kept a large string in work. 1 neither betted largely nor owned many horses. 'Tis true I

used to own and race a few hacks, ineluding the flier Cracker, by Fireworks, a horse that paid me handsomely, but when I met Atbalie Carter, a sweet little maiden who combined all the better characteristics of womanhood and several more that I thought hadn’t been discovered till I saw her ; and it was for •Athalie alone 1 decided to retire from the turf.

Atbalie used to teach in a Sunday

school, and on the eventful day we left the church with the parson’s blessing, I felt happier than a man with twenty tickets on a £SO dividend.

Two years passed away. I had ‘ settled down,’ and always listened with ns much gravity as I could' muster to my wife’s denunciations of the turf and its followers. Sbe, the demure little angel who couldn’t break a sparrow’s log with a big stick before marriage, had strongly developed Into a woman, and one with a mind, Man (this one, at least) couldn’t carry weight when it come to an argument with Mrs John Barr, always being badly beaten before the journey in the catch weight dispute had fairlycommenced. Two solid years away from the alluring tinkle of the tote-bell I Two years having to rely on the newspapers for my information of the meetings,:, reading about ding-dong finishes, races' won by a bare nose, or the favourite beaten on the post, with about the same degree of excitement as a miner reads about a new rush, or a woman about a wedding. I had kept my promise to Atbalie not to go to meetings, but bad not been so exact as regards speculating on the results of races, many a pound of mine being flashed across the wires to secretaries of distant meeting, few dividends ever coming back. My luck was something awful. If I put a couple of pounds on the biggest certainty in the world the animal would get beaten, or would win and there would be a sustained protest. Either of these things would happen,'or the horse backed would be 1 dead ’in that particular face, and would win the next time of trying and this time I would not be an investor. One day 1 went into figures, finding myself in low water. The only way to got back past losses was to buy a horse and—retrench.

As they say poverty begins at home, bo I reasoned that retrenchment should, and commenced in the domestic circle. We lived a short distance out of town, and when I broke the news to my wife that ‘owing to financial losses over which I had no control' I was forced to sell the little property, (it was already heavily mortgaged) discharge the servants, and rent a small cottage in town, the poor little woman’s pride was touched. I put the worst possible light on affairs, swore I’d Be before the Assignee within six months, and that we’d have to live on the, most economical scale to pullthrough. She broke down and cried forhalf an hour.

Then she rose from the chair into which she had dropped and logically looked at the dismal picture 1 had drawn by saying, ‘Well, Jack, we must live within our means ; I’ll help you all I can, but really and truly I thought you were richer than you are, or I'm not sure if I should have married you. And so we took up our quarters in the small cottage, and Atbalie tried her hand at housekeeping. I had had a longing eye for a slashing cut of a horse —a four-year-old by Foulshot, and as the animal was undoubtedly fast and had never raced, I decided to buy him at the figure asked—H3o. Dan Drake, the trainer who used to prepare my horses before marriage, undertook the task of putting my new purchase through his facings, agreeing to cun the herse in his name, and swearing secrecy as to the identity of the real owner.

Under Dan’s painstaking attention The Poacher, for this was the name I had fixed upon, soon underwent a considerable improvement. "

One day Dan came to the office and gleefully told me that The Poacher was a second Carbine, and at level weights had completely buried the Natator filly, Orest of the Wave, over a mile and a half. ‘ lie finished pulling like a dentist,’ said Dan,. ‘ and didn’t blow hard enough to take a Chinaman’s oath.’

This was good news indeed. Daring the previous season Crest of the Wave was the smartest back on the coast over any distance from six furlongs to a mile and three-quarters, and if The Poacher could beat her—well be wasn't half a bad

I wmt home to dinner that day in a happier frame of mind than I'd beeri for some time. ’. •

My young wife was overjoyed at my hilarity, and, enquiring the cause, was informed ‘ that business was on the mend.’ Forgetful for the moment I even went as far as to swallow three of the little leaden tartlets Mrs B. used to make, not reckoning on the evil consequences that must necessarily follow, and in my indiscretion, promised to attend a prayer meeting, to take place that evening, presided over by one Sister Susan Wegg—all this on the strength of The Poacher’s gaallop. When leaving for business, my wife, with one of those tender looks woman can command when she wishes to disburse a superfluous lecture, informed me that since my passion for the turf bad departed, I was indeed a modal man!

My little business was not paying, owing to the depressed times, and something must turn up trumps to square matters, or I would Indeed realise the worst. All my gloomy predictions were in a fair way of being realised, ' Bat something would, aye, and had, come, for wasn’t The Poacher to the rescue ?

One day Dan came in and said The Poacher was fit enough to win a Kew Zealand Cup, adding that none except himself knew how soon the horse was. ‘ I’ve 1 got the' tputa and trainers on toast: tbjy think he’s not class enough to win at an unregistered meeting,’ said Dan with a merry twinkle in his eye. And then X laid my position before the boqest trainer, for Dan was honest—to me at least—telling him to enter the horse for some small races and win them if he could, but I must have money.

Dan looked at me in amazement. 1 1 didn’t think things were as cronk as that,’ he said, 1 and it would be a pity if we showed the horse’s strength straight away when,,he is such a good ’un. I’ve got money, by me, and I’ll see you through.’

I thanked Dan heartily, and fell in with the scheme he unfolded. The week following the horse was entered for a Maiden Plate, Dan knowing that a very inferior lot were to be engaged in the race. ‘ I could run it on foot and then win,’ said Dan, ‘ and we’ll scoop all the money out of the machine. ■ The race was ruh. The Poacher managing to squeeze ; home In/funeral time a hare half length in front of the thirdrate field, paying the good dividend of £ll, Dan swearing he could have won by half the length of the straight had he wished it.

The win gave me wbat I greatly required—spare cash, but the haul was not large enough to'go far towards payiug off my creditors.- - - -■ -■ Our nest move was to fly at high game. yfe entered the horse for the Wellington

Cup, and if The Poacher could only puli this off I’d be out of debt, and then I'd consider whether I continued racing or not.

Just at this time my mother-in law came to reside with her ‘ dear daughter for a few days,’ the said days having since gone into years. She is a widow, and has a small bush property in the Wairarapa, over which we have expectations. She is a strong advocate of extending mission work among the Hindoos,

and speaks largely and long on the benefits of the Female Franchise. It the Hindoos didn’t get her money Athalie would, but up to the present it was an undecided question who was to have the handling of the old lady’s cash after she ‘ passed the box,’ as Dan put it. We had—or rather I had—to play my cards very carefully, or it was good-bye to the old lady’s dividend, She didn’t know I owned a racehorse.

The nominations for the Wellington Cup came out in duo course, and The Poacher’s name was included. There were twenty horses entered, and Dan declared that with the difference there would bo in the weights the unheard-of Poacher was as good as anything else in the race.

My horse was bowling along at a great rate in his work, and Dan swore that ho

improved with every gallop. One day—l won’t forget it in a hurry either—going homo rather earlier than usual, something struck me there was danger ahead as I opened the gate, but I did not anticipate it would bo so hot os it was.

My wife and roy mother-in-law were waiting for me in the passage. The lastnamed opened fire.

‘ You inhuman monster—you daylight robber— you ruthless destroyer of this angel’s happiness I’ she cried, waving her hand, suggestive of the leading Indy in an amateur dramatic show, in the direction of her daughter.

‘ What on earth is the matter ?’ I gasped. And then Athalie sobbed ‘ You’ve got a racehorse,’ looking at mo as if I’d got the smallpox. Of course I denied it point blank, said

that nothing in the world would tempt me to own a racehorse again, &a., just on purpose to euchre the Hindoos. What was my surprise to see my wife unfold a document made between John Barr, hay and corn dealer, and Daniel Drake, trainer, concerning a certain hotse named The Poacher!

When I saw-tbat denial was hopeless, I demanded to know the right anyone had to open my desk and examine my private papers. * My wife did not answer, but my motber-in-lnw did. As near as I can remember this is something like what she said:—

* John Barr, your wife has every right in the world to know your affairs. You have proved yourself to be a treacherous man. You, for whom my one pet lamb has toiled and lived in abject poverty so that you could pursue your low gambling calling; you belong to a class of cutthroats, robbers of widows and orphans —spielers is the term —who play “ two up ” with pennies, who stake their all on “ three-oard-monto,” who put their last shilling on the game you know as “ under and over.” and would sell their soul for a totalisator ticket. Oh, you vile deceiver ; I know all about you sportsmen, the superintendent of the Sunday School explained all the little tricks to me—he knows. And this animal you call The Poacher is well named —he steals in and robs the hearth and home of my daughter of all its comforts. I say you must take your mother-in-law’s advice and sell the abominable horse, or my daughter and myself leave this house, and not a penny of my money will you touch-.’

I tried to reason with the old lady, tolling her that the horse wa.s as fast as Carbine, but it was no use. If The Poacher could have distanced Eclipse it would have been all the same, so I had to give in, surrendering like a lamb. ~ Next day the horse was advertised, and a week later was purchased by Mr Smith for £3l—‘ given away ’so tho auctioneer said.

As the horse was doing so well in Drake's hands, Mr Smith decided to let him train The Poacher for the cup. When the weights for the race appeared The Poacher occupied post of honour at the far end, being allotted fist 71b. Just after the weights came out I read in the sporting column of the local paper that The Poacher had that morning accomplished one of the best gallops ever seen on the tracks, and that the horse should have a good chance for the Wellington Cup. I had half expected to see such a paragraph for some time past, and was sorry for Dan’s sake that the horse’s form had leaked out. «

Dan came into town in the evening and had a long talk with me. Next day I read that The Poacher had broken down badly, and would not be seen out for some time.

My mother-in-law saw this piece o* information, and as usual dealt cut a chapter or two on the evils of horse racing, and I agreed witu her on every

point. Acceptances came out, and a good many had wondered why the broken down Poacher had paid up, but there his name was sure enough. Just at this time Dan got a telegram to attend his sister-in-law’s funeral, and left hurriedly.

Two days before the Cup Meeting three of my largest creditors threatened proceedings within a week if I did not square up. I bad realised on everything, and as there was nothing coming in except bills, X foresaw a. rather interesting time when up for my public examination. I begged for an extension of time, but the sons of Israel were adamant. In a week the shutters were to go up.

Cup day arrived, and I tried to feel as unconcerned as possible. If I only could have been in Wellington.

A friend of my mother-in-law’s dropped in in the morning to tell me that Drake was a scoundrel, saying it was all a hosx about his being called away to a burial, and that he had been seen exercising a horse very much like The Poacher at Palmerston.

-The news did not seem to interest me quite as mo oh as my scandalloving informant thought it would. ‘ I was off racing—dead-off racing and all its associations,’ was all I said, and he left, apparently sorry for having volunteered the information.

I had arranged with a friend at 'Wellington to send me the result of the race as soon as the horses were past the post, and though I tried hard to keep my mind on the columns of figures before me, I saw a white jacket and yellow/sash flash across the ledger more than once. The time for the race arrived—l was feverish then, and a few minutes later I received the telegram, and this is what I read : Surprise, 1; The Poacher, 2; Sweetheart, 3.

The shutters are up ! I sat down and wrote to my wife, saying that I was off to Sydney, being hopelessly ruined. Calling the errand boy I despatched him with the note with the injunction to give it into Mrs Barr’s hands, and then began hurried preparations for my departure. A knock at the office door. It was the telegraph boy. ‘Two shillings to pay,’ he said abruptly. 1 D n the wire—l won’t take it.’ He turned to go away. I called him back, got the telegram, and this is what it contained:— ‘ Poacher second to Surprise ; protest against winner for cross sustained ; dividend £2B’—Drake. Wbat about that boy 7 Bushing out I met him in the doorway. Too late I 1 Please, sir, Mrs Barr and her mother have gone to a Women’s Convention meeting, and I..had to bring the letter back,'

Gripping the lad’s hand I nearly wrenched it off, and ‘ Ideas you, tny boy, . here’s a sovereign,’ was all that I could j say. I The news of The Poacher's win soon J spread, and a few of us met to drink to j the success of the local-trainer of the Cup i winner.

On returning home, I met my wife at the door. She was reading the evening paper. ‘Oh Jack,’ she said, ‘wasn’t it a pity my mother made you sell that horse. We would have been out of debt now,' And then she commenced to cry, I deplor.-d the sale very much, too, and my mother-in-law regarded her advice as being nasty and unwise, and our tea that January evening was a most melancholy meal. Just as we rose from the table the door-knob rattled, and my wife answered the summons.

‘A telegram for you, Jack,’ she said and this is what it contained:—

‘ Will you take £SOO for The Poacher ? —Drake.

‘ Call the boy back,’ I said, and I wrote one word—‘ Yes.’

And then X showed the wire to my wife. ‘There must bo some mistake,’ she said, ‘ Mr Smith owns the horse—but who is Mr Smith ?’ ‘Mr Smith, I answered, ‘is Mrs John Barr’s husband, and as we’vo made £2500 we’ve good cause to be glad that I did not take Mv Mother-in Law’s Ad-