AROUND THE HAWKES BAY STABLES.

New Zealand Illustrated Sporting & Dramatic Review, Volume IX, Issue 426, 22 September 1898, Page 12

AROUND THE HAWKES BAY STABLES.

MR T. JONES’ STABLE AT GREENMEADOWS. [By oub Napieb 'Cobbespondent.] “ Now that I have got into my stride in my new place I shall be glad to see you out any day that you like to come,” was what the above mentor said to me the other evening when I happened to bump up against him. Knowing from long acquaintance with him that what he says he means, I gladly accepted his invitation, and one fine, glorious day last week I had the pleasure of ciiticising the members of his string. Since his advent to his new quarters several improvements have been effected in the premises and surroundings. The boxes have been whitewashed throughout, new floors laid, and the yard nicely levelled. Pistol Grip was the opening chapter of the volume, and right well the big fellow looks, and 1 am quite satisfied that with a bit of luck registered owner of the <l blue and orange will not havo long to wait before he gets back the amount he laid out on the purchase of MartiniHenry’s son. When his present preceptor first got him he was inclined to be a bit nervous and

fidgetty, a failing that was often noticeable about him when he was at the post, lined up ready for the fray. This defect he has now apparently got over, as Jones told me that he is now toned down and is as tractable and docile a horse as ever he handled. No doubt the fact that he is indulged in a paddock run for a period daily has been one of the principal factors in his improvement, for these sensitive horses are like shy people, they only want a bit of mixing with company. I can speak with experience from the biped point of view, for as a boy I was a notoriously shy and bashful specimen. Mixing with all sorts and conditions of men has, however, removed that reticence from my composition, and I hold that nature, whether in man or horse, is similar. I may be wrong in my theory, but my experience through life has forced upon me the conviction, that ncy statement is all right. The dual winner of the Trial Hurdles at the Winter Meeting of the Napier Park Racing Club, Blackberry, has quite recovered from the accident that befell him in the big hurdle race on the second day of that club’s meeting. Since his last public display he has filled out greatly, and now looks the beau ideal of a hurdler. That characteristic of the Gladiator tribe (from which he io descended), mean-looking hips, are new conspicuous by their absence. Throughout his career he has been a very unfortunate customer, firstone thing and then another cropping up to put him back, and had not his owner been one of the real-gritted sort, with plenty of pluck, he would have long ago turned him up. I sincerely hope in the future that he will have more luck than has been his share in the past. It’s no good a fellow being possessed of plnck unless he has a good slice of luck to keep him company. The head lines of the old school copy-books used to have it that “ luck is a fool, pluck is a hero.” That may be all right in its way, but for my own part I would sooner be a lucky fool than a plucky hero. I have seen one of the latter sort getting drowned in trying to do a heroic action; the lucky, perhaps, as a rule, do not get wiped out that way. Armourer’s black-coated son, Whitirea, is in great heart and buckle, the muscles standing out on him like mountains on a map, and he should be heard of in some of the events during the four days’ racing that eventuate at Hastings and Napier Park next month. That rogue, Aphony, I never saw looking better, but he has so often belied his appearance that I am afraid no confidence can be placed in him. What an honest, good horse his brother Pasha was, to be sure, and one would suppose that Aphony would have some of his relative’# attributes, but if he does he is exceedingly diffident about exhibiting them. He is just the sort of a performer that would land a backer in difficulties, for when he had led you to expect that success would attend his efforts, that is precisely the occasion upon which he would fail ignominously, and when he is fancied not to hav® a possible, that’s when he bobs up serenely. On the score of breeding he cannot complain, as h® is by that sterling stallion, The Mute, from Rose d’Amour, and consequently half-sister to the New Zealand Cup winner, Rosefeldt. The recently-acquired Moonraker looks fit to race at an hour’s notice. This Tasmanian-bred gentleman was always a favorite of mine, and I ■till maintain that what I have always written about him is correct, and thaHis, that for brilliancy in the last distance of any race up to » mile he is without an equal throughout the land. The ugly duckling of the crowd, Orizaba, i® again in work, after a lengthened spell of hacking about, but, taking looks as a guide, it will be some time ere we see him at his best. He is the most peculiar standing horse that ever I have seen, for he has his two front pins shot under him at an angle of 75 degrees and he only rests on one of his hind legs at a time. His performances, however, in the Gisborne district last season proved that, when he was thor®ughly well, he could us® his legs and feet to a very merry tune. Rhino does not look as if his try at the National Meeting had done him any harm, for he presents a gay and brisk appearance. Hie trainer gazes rather sorrowfully at him as he remarks that Dummy beating him in the big cross country event last month at Riccarton did him out of a nice sum, for he had a good bet about Rhino and Social Pest for tbe Steeples and Hurdles. He, however, takes the matter philosophically, for, upon my telling him that it was bad luck, he replied that in some of the races that Rhino won, perhaps some of his opponents had a turn of the same sort, so you see it was only an equaller —my turn one day, some one else’s some other time — which is a truly sportsmanlike way of accepting defeat.

Crown Prince, the neatly-built son of Sedton Delaval and Princess Royal, is on the invalid list just now, some ailment of the shoulder effecting him, but it is not deemed of a very serious nature. If this roan-colored relative of that good one, Administrator, isn’t able to gallop when he gets wound up —well, he won’t act up to the impression that he creates. Pinrose, the Hiko — Primula gelding, was ■trolling about the paddocks. Jones bought him a short time back for a tenner, and as he is a splendid hack, carries a lady, and goes well in harness, it must be allowed that he did a fair stroke of business when he purchased him. My labors with the team being finished, we adjourned to the house, where I was shown a couple of good oil paintings of Blackberry and Rhino. The artist has, to my way of thinking, somewhat flattered the chestnut steeplechaser, bnt in Blackberry’s case the painting of him i# life-like and truthful. I was not allowed to quit the place before I had partaken of the hospitality of Jones and hi# better half, who laid themselves out to make my jaunt to their home a pleasant and sociable one.

Turn to page 24 of this issue, and read the conditions of our “Skill Competition.” A knowledge of racing will enable you to pick up the gold.