ANECDOTES OF SPORT AND SPORTSMEN.

Otago Witness, Issue 1812, 13 August 1886, Page 25

ANECDOTES OF SPORT AND SPORTSMEN.

{licensed Victuallers' Gazette.)

It is a remarkable fact that the most wary and experienced in buying horse-flesh are had over and over again by the artifices of the coper; and tbat the most skilled in venery are often taken in by an animal sound in every respect, but blind. Unless the intending buyer takes the precaution to wave something before the horse's eyes, even though he be a dealer, he may be caugbt napping, as the following anecdote will show. Sir Walter Scott once happened to be standing by with some other gentlemen, while the captain of the Selkirk Yeomanry was purchasing an animal for the use of his trumpter,aman of enormous height and girth, and •ne for whom it was difficult to find a mount. The animal offered was a handsome one, over 16 hands high, and a grand looking horse. Neither the officer, who was an excellent jockey, nor several experts who were present could see the slightest imperfection in wind or limb. More as a joke than for information, a person, who happened to pass, was asked to give his opinion. This individual was called Blind Willie, who drove a small trade of cattle and horses, and, what is more extraordinary, in watches ; and in these latter articles, notwithstanding his having been born blind, he was accounted to possess rare judgment. So soon as he had examined the horse in question, he pronounced it to have his own complaint, and in plain words stated that the animal was blind, which was found to be the case on closer examination. None present had the slightest suspicion of this fault in the animal, and eagerly questioned Blind Willie as to how he had discovered that which was so imperceptible to them who had their eyesight. Being so solicited the sightless man explained that after feeling the horse's limbs, he laid one hand on its heart and drew other briskly across the 'animal's eyes, when, finding no increase of pulsation in consequence of the latter motion, he had come to the conclusion that the horse was blind.

We talk a great deal about our young athletes, but the athleticism of our time is like a hothouse plant, requires a deal of forcing — it does not come natural. Among the cricketers of the present day it would be difficult perhaps to find a match for John Fennex, one of the old school, who at seventy -five walked ninety miles in three days, carrying an umbrella, a bundle of clothes, and three cricket bats, and spent only three shillings on the road. At the end of the journey he was not at all fatigued, and only complained of the bats having bruised his side in the carrying of them. In 1836 at single wicket alone, on Mitcham-common. he beat three of the greatest cricketers of his day. With constant playing and accidents his hands had become like the hoof 8 of a rhinoceros — mutilated brokenfingered, distorted, almost nailless. He could throw a ball ahd wield a bat at nearly eighty, and yet he had never trained in a gymnasium and gone through the curriculum by which the modern Hercules' biceps are artificially cultivated.

The great events of our life are most frequently brought about by, or decided by trifles ; indeed, life is made up of trifles, petty annoyances causing us more misery than heavy misfortunes, as the sting of a wasp or the pricking of a thorn will often give a pain more exquisite, for the time at least, than a more serious wound. The truth of these remarks pould be illustrated a hundred different ways,

both gravely and humorously ; we will chose the latter, and give an instance which is more suggestive than curious. Before Isaac Bittoon entered the ring with Paddingtpn Jones in one of his fights, rather than leave them in the clothes lie cast off, he slipped a shilling and sixpence inside the waistband of his drawers. After the ninth, round, while he was getting all the best of it, Isaac suddenly remembered these stray coins, and on feeling if they were all right where he had deposited them, found them gone. In an awful stew he began to feel down his legs. Time was called, but he could not only cry out, " What the devil has become of that eighte'enpence?" D — n your eighteenpence," said Mendoza, who was seconding him ; " I'll give you a guinea if you'll only go on." But too agitated by his loss to listen to anything, Bittoon went on searching. Now, a hundred, pounds were staked upon the fight, and ever so much more in bets, his own reputation was jeopardised, yet the missing one-and-six-pence made Isaac oblivious of all. At last, just as the referee had told him that if he did not come up to time he should decide against him, he found the miserable coins in one of the knees of his drawers into which they had slipped. He recovered his spirits at once, went in aud won easily; but had he not have found that eighteenpence, the day would most certainly have gone against him.. >

That fine specimen of the raro old sporting Irish gintleman. Sir Jonah Barrington, has figured before to-day in these columns, but the following is a newly-discovered and characteristic anecdote. Racing, hunting, and open house had pluuged him into a slough of debt and difficulty. When the fulness of time had arrived, and Dublin became too hot to hold him, he resolved that, like "thenight before Larry was stretched," there should be a jolification and then a bolt. One difficulty presented itself; there was not a silver spoon in the house, all having long since passed into the custody of mine uncle from Lombardy. But both Sir Jonah and his lady were fertile in resources, and the latter undertook to pay a visit to the custodian of the family plate, and wheedle him into lending it out for the night. He consented, on condition that he should be numbered among the invited guests, in order to keep an eye upon his pledges and his slippery host, and Mr Pawnbroker, being a presentable man, and knowing how to keep himself in the background, his stipulation was accepted.

The party was a most brilliant one, and went off admirably, Sir Jonah sparing no expense, or, rather none of his creditors. At length the last of the "guests, except Mr P., had departed. " Well, Sir Jonah," remarked her ladyship, "was it not well done? But I am glad it is over." "Yes," replied the baronet ; "and now, Mr P., you and I will have a quiet little bottle together before we part. Ring the bell, my dear, and order up some champagne." The •' Mousseux" was not so common a drink in those days as it i 3 now, the vinous properties of gooseberries and rhubarb not yet being discovered, and Mr P. offered no objection to the proposal, as it was not every day he drained the foaming beaker with a baronet. The champagne was brought up, and Sir Jonah gave orders that the clerk and the men who were brought to pack the silver should have as much punch as they liked. Sir Jonah was in high spirits, told such capital stories, and such racy anecdotes that the delighted Mr P. was unconscious of the number of glasses he had drained, until he found the floor give away beneath him, and he was pre. cipitated into oblivion. When next he opened his eyes the sun was streaming in upon him through the window of an empty garret, while around, still snoring, lay his assistants. With a horrible feeling of alarm he staggered to his feet, and stumbled down stairs, to find the house was stripped of every valuable, and desolation reigning in those halls which a few hours before had been crowded with the elite of Dublin society. In the meantime, Sir Jonah and his lady were already clear of the Hill of Howth, and, with a fair wind and sundry well-filled plate chests, merrily careering towards the Isle of Man.

Various attempts were made to lure the old fox from his retreat, and a daughter of Eve nearly succeeded. The lady who had been sent over by the" exasperated pawnbroker for this purpose, having ignited a flame in the susceptible baronet's heart, induced him one day to indulge her in a boating excursion, his inamorata undertaking to provide the vessel. They hadnot long left the land when r a 'suspicion of treachery darted upon his mind. The boatman made no secret of the job, a vessel was waiting round the point in which some emissaries of the law were ensconced to arrest and convey him to Dublin. " How much are you to get ?" asked Sir Jonah. " Ten guineas for the trip, forty if we bring your honour to the fore," was the answer. " Put me ashore again and I'll give you a hundred." The fellow grinned. " Have you got it about you r" he asked. " No ; but you shall very soon have it. Can you read?" "Divil a ha'porth." "Very well, then, take this," rapidly writing on a leaf torn out of his pocket-book, "to my attorney, Mr Corbyn, he'll pay you the money, and I will remain here until you return." The boat was pulled in and away went the mercenary with his note, while his companions kept guard over the prize. The paper ran as follows : — " Dear Oorbyn, I'm in the devil's scrape — I'm kidnapped and still a prisoner ; the bearer believes this to be an order for a hundred pounds, the price of my liberty. Give him a cudgelling and a ducking and send round a well-manned yawl to-rescue me." These requests were obeyed to the letter. Quite unsuspicious, the gaolers took no notice of a craft bearing down upon them until they were boarded and the deliverance of the captive was accomplished.

A very exciting race for a wager was the following. Some sportsmen dining together at a country inn about 50 miles from the metropolis, the conversation turned upon who would get to London first. A gentleman offered to back himself for £50 against any one there. The bet was accepted and increased by the well-known Squire Gilbert, one of the best hunting men of the day. It was no sooner booked, however, than it flashed upon him that the hunting season being over he had sent all his horses up to town. He had engaged himself, however; he would not give in. Going to the stables, he saw a groom already engaged in saddling a blood hack for his opponent, and that there was nothing for him but a rough pony standing in the straw yard, for whom, upon inquiry, no harness was to be found. Not to be daunted, with only his twisted silk handkerchief for tackle, the Squire jumped on the animal's back in his full dress, silk stockings, and cocked hat, and though it was nearly the raiddle'of the night and drizzling fast, dashed off. He had not gone far when he heard a clatter of hoofs behind him. The pony redoubled his speed, but his rival whizzed past with a cry of " Any commands for town?"

Most men would now have given up the task as an impossibility. Not so the Squire ; he pushed on until he reached a roadside inn, where he had to awaken the sleepy ostler and ultimately the landlord before he could obtain a fresh horse. His new mount was a game, blood-looking old hack, who, for a time went

jogging along at a most fatiguing pace until he reached Barnet. Here Squire Gilbert was well known, and had no difficulty in obtaining a thoroughbred from the stable of a friend. But he had no sooner put the brute into a gallop than he found it utterly impossible to stop him. Away he wont down the steep hill towards London, dashing through a flock of sheep upon the road, killing one or two, maiming others, until at last his rider succeeded in arresting him before a turnpike gate. Here, however, a new impediment aro.su; the toll-keeper refused to let him pass, saying he had orders from a gentleman who had recently passed through to stop him on a charge of felony. Exasperated by this contemptible trick, the Squire threw the fellow a few sovereigns, which speedily convinced him of his innocence, aud drew forth the information that the other was nearly done up. Off started the fiery, untamed steed at as fierce a rate as before, and had not passed over many miles when he overtook the panting, jaded horse he was riding against. " Any orders for town ?" cried the Squire, in mocking imitation. " You have not won yet," answered the other, goading on his tottering quadruped for one last effort. Confident of success the Squire let him take the lead, but when he again overtook them lie found his rival lying stanned upon the road side, while the poor horse was writhing in the last agonies of death.

One of the most inveterate gamblers of his day — and that is saying a great deal of a time when all men of fortune were gamesters — was Ball Hughes, better known as the " Golden Ball." Whole nights and days would he spend at Crockford's and not unfrequently left half-a-year's income behind him in a single night, but he always preserved an unruflind demeanour, and few could tell from his manner whether he had lost or won. Standing one wet day at the window of White's club, while drops of rain were slowly trickling down the panes, he offered to s bake a hundred pounds that one globule would reach the bottom ; five or six enruy&s gamblers like himself, took up the bet, which the Golden one lost. When tired of cards and dice he did not disdain pitch and toss for handfuls of sovereigns. One night he and Lord Petersham had been dining at Brook-street, en-t ete-k-tete. After dinner they adjourned to Hughes's sanctum, which was fitted up in the most approved style of a buck of the day ; the walls covered with pictures of race-horses, fighting-men, and balletdancers, boxing-gloves, foils, guns, &c. Among the rest of the miscellaneous articles was a set of battledore and shuttlecock : " Let us have a game at this," cried the host ; Petersham was agreeable and away they went, betting heavily upon.the number of times they could each keep up the shuttlecock. AH night long they worked on vigorously at the game, somethousandsof. pounds changing hands ; the dawn found them still at it, but when later on a servant entered the room he discovered his master and his guest stretched upon the floor, where they had at last cast themselves in sheer exhaustion, but still grasping their battledores as though, after a brief rest they had intended to rise again and renew the sport.

We have had frequent occasion to refer in these pages to the sagacity of the dog, but the following instance of equine instinct or reason may be put beside the most remarkable of canine anecdotes. To the wild Arab his gallant steed is a friend almost equally loved with his wife and children. One of these sons of the desert was engaged with a party of marauders in attacking a caravan, when a detachment of Turkish soldiers came up, rescued the merchants, and took the brigands captive. During the night, while our Arab lay bound hand and foot within the tents of his captors, and all were asleep, he heard his horse neigh. He knew his voice in an instant, it was close at hand, and he contrived to drag himself to the place whence the sound proceeded, when he found the animal a prisoner like himself. "If I must remain a slave," he cried, " let me at least try to render thee free." And wjth his strong teeth he contrived to gnaw through the light fastening that held the horse. " Now go," he said, "go to my wife and children, lick their hands, and tell them thy master will return no more." But, instead of taking instant advantage of his freedom, the faithful creature, imitating his master's example, stooped his head, and began to nibble the thongs that boiind his arms, which were soon set loose ; then, finding that still his master could not mount, his legs being tied together, he lifted him with his toeth, so that the Arab succeeded in grasping his mane and drawing himself up on his back. Then away flew the sagacious beast, with the speed of the wind, homewards. It was a journey of scores of miles over the sandy desert. He bore up nobly until he reached the well-known tents, but as his rider leaped from his back into his wife's arms the gallant steed fell dead. Almost incredible as this may read, it is a certified fact, and is but one among many instances of the wonderful* intelligence of the Arabian horse.

The freaks of that notorious scapegrace, but really good fellow, the Marquis of Waterford, were most frequently carried out in London, but during a brief visit to tedinburgh he greatly scandalised the decorousness of Auld Reekie by several madcap pranks. Very early ono morning, after he had been dancing all night at a public ball, he and a Scotch gentleman, named Ramsey, issued into the streets on mischief bent. One of the first objects that met their view was a cart full of barrels of buttermilk, which, we may inform English reader:?, is usually taken for breakfast by Scotchmen with their porridge. Loosing all 'the spigots and setting the liquid flowing, the two jokers jumped up on tha cart ; one caught hold of the reins while the other lashed the wheezy old horse into a gallop, and with the milk watering the road as they went, away they dashed among the carriages of those who, like themselves, had just left the ball. 1 But not unattended, for the milkman, who had been serving a customer on one of the flats into which most of the houses in Edinbnrgh are divided, having caught sight of them as they were turning a corner, gave pursuit, and being fleeter on his legs than his nag was on four, soon came up with the despoilers ; Ramsey kept him off with the whip, and he could only shake his fist and yell out imprecations at these ravishers of his property. " Ob, ye unhanged scoundrels ! ye deil's buskers. I'll hae the law of ye, I'll hae ye clappit in Cation gaol ; oh, my beautiful buttermilk, oh, the wicked waste." Having arrived at his hotel the Marquis jumped clown, but was immediately collared by the infuriated vendor, who swore he would not let him go until he had got the names of both. " There's something better than our names," said the Marquis, taking a £10 note out of his pocket and handing it him. Oh, the marvellous change that came over Sawnie as he grasped the bit of crisp paper ! " Eh, they were bonnie lads now and frolicsome gentlemen, and wad they be wantin' the milk again to-morrow mornin' ? "

_ The Marquis, although he belongs to our own times, was by no means a phoenix in the way of such tricks : there was one " Billy Duff" of the 10th Hussars, a brother of the Earl of Fife— who has figured before to-day in these anecdotes — that almost kept pace with him. Late one

afternoon an order came up to London, where the regiment was stationed, to send two officers to Windsor to dine with his Majesty (William IV), and he and Lord Chesham were selected by the colonel for the honour. The two gentleman hired a post-chaise and started ; when they arrived at Ealing, time was growiug short, they urged the postboy to quicken his speed ; but he was a sulky, loutish fellow with his own ideas as to the speed he ought to travel at, and not at all disposed to change them for anyone. Finding him obtuse to threats and arguments alike, and that at their rate of progress they must inevitably be late, a thing not to be thought of when Royalty was the host, Billy coolly drew a pistol — without which no one travelled even in those days — loaded^it wibh a saltpetre bullet — an article he had had especially manufactured for practical jokes — and fired. The missile hit the lad hard enough, though without inflicting any injury, to make him think he was shot, and down he foil off his horse rolling in the dust and shouting " Murder !" In a moment Billy had taken his place in the saddle, and without a glance behind clashed on. It need scarcely be said that the horses had a bad quarter of an hour after that. Great was the astonishment of the lacqueys at the castle to see a chaise drive up with a postillion dressed in the full tog of a Captain of Hussars, and it was some little time before they could be persuaded to admit him.