REMINISCENCES OF A TURE COMMISSIONER.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 4543, 15 November 1882, Page 3

REMINISCENCES OF A TURE COMMISSIONER.

Tell you q B tory P Why I could yarn y° u o»t spores! I've. Inown the Turf for fifty odd years, and some queer things have happened to me, I can tell you. I dare say you chaps wasn't out' of kniokerbookers when I first started betting. Them was the days 1 Bone, of your half -hearted hedgin' books, and odds so short you can hardly see 'em. There was a chance of making money then, when you knew a good thing, bub now it's not worth a man's while backin' horses, nor layin' agin 'em either, for the matter o' that. I do a little fielding now and again, just for the sake of old times, and to keep my hand in, but my heart ain't in it, mates, for I can't help thinkin' of the past glorious days, when sport was sport, and bettin' bettin.' I'll tell you what happened one Oheßter Cup year, when I'd just started in the public line. I did a good business ia commissions, and many'sthe thousand I placed out for my customers, and they weren't a few. " One morning, about a month before the Chester Meeting, I had a letter from old Tom Masters, of Mitcham, tellin' me to take the odds to five hundred against Tim Whiffler. Out I goes around to Ben Joyce's, in Bucklerebury, and, au I expected, found a -few of the talent in his little baok parlour, drinkin' and chattin' about the coming event on the Hoodee. • Mornin 1 , Jem,' sayß Ben ; • what do ye know ?' I didn't answer muoh just then, but had a liquor. Presently Tom Davis comes over and aiks me if I wanted to back anything. « Well,' say a I, • I just want to back an outsider— Tim Whiffler. What'll you lay?' '66 to I. 1 'I'll take you,' and I'm blessed if I didn't have 'em all round, aad got altogether about three thousand at an average of 50 to 1. Away I toidlod to the old Wheatsheaf, where Sam Whitehead and Dick Pargons used to bet years ago, and pretty near the same thing happened again. They were all ready and willing to lay agin Tim WhiMer as faßt as I liked to take 'em. When I looked over my book that evening I found I had taken the odds, averaging a little over 50 to 1, to win seven thousand pounds, and accordingly sent word to Tom to that effeot. The answer oame baok, • Bight ; take all the rest you can get,' and on the morning of the race the Mitoham people stood to win through me nearly ten thousand pounds. As you all know, Tim Whiffler won in a canter, and there was a lot of w«epin' and gnashin* of teeth in Bucklerahury. . It was a rare hit for the knowing ones, and I had to stand enough : ohampagne to drown a regiment. The next Sunday I takes the -missus down to Mitoham in the gig, with the money all ready for old Tom in crisp bank notes. I hadn't won much myself over the race, though I should have done, but when we got in the little baok room, and came to the settlin', Masters says to me, ' Well, Jem, you've worked this job well,, «q hare'a tb.?*e luu&i*«& ivt tJb» ■wife.' He was the right sort. You don't meet 'em often nowadays. Another morning I was sittin' in the bar, thinkin' about the Two Thousand Guineas, and wonderin 1 I hadn't any commissions for the great Newmarket race, when I receives a letter from Joe Field, of Epsom, which puzzled me a bit. It was to instruct me to take all the money I could get about Gladiateur for the Derby. Now, I must tell you that Gladiateur was a hot favourite for the coming Two Thousand and naturally I wondered why I was to back him for the Derby before the other affair came off. It was no use me thinking about it for ever ; businoss was business, and my instructions were clear, and came from a man that knew his book as well as most. So I went out that same afternoon, and took the odds against Gladiateur to the tune of six thousand pounds, i'he horse won the Guineas easily enough, as everybody knows, and the following SunHn- I look a trip down to Epsom, to see Field, i;nd pay him a little account I'd collected in town. We had a chat about the Derby, and ho tells mo that it was a certainty for Count Lagrange'fl animal, and I was to take all the money I could get about him. ' He'll win by a couple of lengths or more,' says Joe ; ' it's the best thing I've ever known.' When I was driving home from Epsom that evening I just stopped for a liquor at Bill Jones', of Olapham, and the first thing he says to me was, ' What's coin 1 to win the Derby P ' ' I ain't a prophet, answers I, ' but I'm going to back Gladiateur.' 'Ho won't win,' sneers Bill. • Well,' I says, • I'll take odds he does, and that by a couple of lengths.' ' What odds '11 you take P ' 'A hundred to one, just for a fancy bet,' sjiys I, quiokly, taking out a sovereign and putting it down en the counter. ' Done with you ; I wish I could pick up money like this every day.' I remember well going down to the Derby that year, and I'm not likely to forget the pleasure I felt when I saw Gladiateur winning as he liked. After the race, thinking of n-y bet with Bill Jones, I went up to the judge's box, and asked him what the precise vordict was. • Won easily by two lengths,' was the reply ; and, sure enough, I bad landed my hundred. I ought to have told you, though, that the day before the race a friend of Jones' had dropped in, and, after ehillyshallying for a while, says to me, ' That bet of Jones' about Gladiateur not winning by two lengths was a very stupid one ; can't you cancel it?' I was fly to his little game directly, and, as it luckily happened, there was a pal of mine sitting in the bar having a glass of grog.' I just winked over to him, and than »ays to Jones' friend, ' You see, old chap, I've laid that gentleman ov«r there sixty to one, ju»t for a judioious hedge, and I can't ask him to scratch the bet.' ' Can I?' ' Oh, certainly not., but I don't think it'll come off, though'; and the chap went away. The funniest bit of luck that ever fell in my way was over Merry Monarch's Derby. I was very busy in the bar one Saturday night, about a fortnight before the Derby, when a poor, seedy-looking tramp come in, and begs for a crust of bread and a drink. I gave him what he asked for, and when he was going away, beckons me over, and *ays. ' I hear you do a lot in the betting line, guvnor. ' Maybe I do, and maybe I don't,' says I ; 'but what's that to you f ' Well, you give me a feed and a liquor to-night, and I want to do you a good turn. Now, there's a horse going to run for the Derby called Merry Monaroh. The owners run another horse in the same race. I know that if Merry Monarch starts they can't help his winnin', so you back him, guvnor, for all you're worth, and you'll not regret it. 1 You can all well believe tlitt at first I wasn't inclined to put much faith in the tramp's story ; but, somehow or other, I couldn't get it out of my head, and, at last, determined to risk a cool oentury for luck. The horse was at 60 to 1, and I invested a hundred and stood him to win me five thousand pounds. The next day I had a commission from the division the animal belonged to to baok him to win twenty thousand pounds. Ho ! ho ! thinks I, there's something in it this time, and, after a bit, I goes around to Ben Joyce's, and on my way who should I knock up against but Little Bueiell. That was the time before he went wrong, you must recollect, and though I never cared muoh for tho fellow, he was good for money and always met his settlings. He was a haw ! haw ! gentleman ; a big pot in his way. 'How do, Jem P — want to back anything ? ' ' What'll you lay Merry Monarch ? ' ' Fifties.' ' I'll tako you two hundred to three,' I says. ' Done,' says ho. 'I'll lay it you again.' 'All right.' 1 again ! ' 'All right.' lie didn't offer again, though, and after leaving him, I went the rounds, nnd ul-ogo'licr got another fifty on. Merry Monarch won i,he Derby in, I suppose, as easy a fashion a* ever a rac6 was won in, and 1 uoi.tcd seven thousand five hundred pounds, all tliro:if>h giving a glasa of beer to a trump. Tho next Monday Jiuseell comes along to my placo, and says to mo, ' You don't, want that niorey to-day, do you, Jem P ' ' .Not. want it,' replies I, ' why you know I do commiß'ionei, and how »m I to eeUle up it you don'i pay me?' 'Oi, all rif'ht ; male il. late, though ; ' and away ho Hwagpars. About four o'clock I wont, to his office, and was paid ; but how do you think ? Why, I'm blr»se d if he didn't hand me out tho money nearly all in ono pound notes— lriehmon and Scotchmen. It took a deuco of a time, of course, and when hod finished—' Now we'll havo half-a--dozen champagne, J*», ; you don't fill in for such a nice thing ovary day ' ' Lj.:k here, Mr Russell,' I answered ; ' I'll sUnd half-a-dozen sherry to your young gentlemen in the office, for champagne might upsot their etonmchs ; but as for you, if you'll givo mo a piece of paper, I'll write you out b>u order on l)av and Martin for halfa-dor.en blinking, and that's all you'll (?ot from me.' Hud him thore, boys, eh? 1 nover km tho tramp from that day to this, but hopo to run against him bofore 1 die."