LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.
DEAR MR. PUNCH.—Several people who do not know me as the writer of the "Selections," have told me that they took the tip about "Balmoral" for the Manchester Cup, but backed it to win instead of to be last—thereby winning money!—now—of course the last thing a tipster wishes, is that his prophecy should turn out successful, therefore I am delighted at the result, as also was Sir MINTING BLOUNDELL, who won a good stake, and is the only person who knows the secret of my incognito. He congratulated me most heartily on my success, which he said was the more wonderful as he knew the owner did not much fancy the horse!—but, as I told him—if owners of race-horses knew as much as some of the public—(to say nothing of the prophets)—they would never lose the money they do, and would probably give up racing! The selection was entirely my own "fancy." I need scarcely say, I never ask an owner anything, and if he volunteers the information that he thinks his horse "has a good chance," I find as a rule, it's just as well to "let the horse run loose," as they put it; though that is an expression I never quite understood, as I've never yet seen a horse "run loose" in a race, except on one or two occasions when the jockey has been thrown at the start—which now I come to think of it, may be the origin of the expression!
So Ascot is once more a departed glory! We all shivered on Tuesday, got roasted on Wednesday, were comfortable on Thursday, and resigned on Friday—and on the whole the toilette show was successful; though I fancy some of the best gowns were held over for Goodwood—one of mine was at all events—but my goodness!—if only our great grandmothers could have seen some of our modern petticoats!—more elaborate than any dress they ever saw!—but then, as Lord HARPER REDCLYFFE said, our great grandmothers never got off and on coaches with an admiring crowd looking on, as we have to do now-a-days; and you have to be pretty smart not to get hung up on the wheels—though as Lady HARRIETT ENTOUCAS said, "my dear Lady GAY—what is the use of wearing all this loveliness unless one—" but perhaps it will annoy her if I tell what she did say!
The Royal Hunt Cup was a beautiful race, although the winner was not supposed to be the best of "JEWITT's lot;" but I am told he is one of those who "will not do his best at home," being beaten in the trial—and after all, how very human that is—for how many men one knows who are perfect bears in their home circle!
Of the horses I advised my readers to "Keep an eye on," only one, Buccaneer, put in an appearance, and won the Gold Cup; so that my warning as to the difficulty of doing this, was fully borne out by the result. My Gold Cup selection did not run, and had I known that Ermak would have been his sole opponent, I should have made him my tip; but I do not pretend to be Ermakulate! (That's awful—please forgive me, dear Mr. Punch!) From the way St. Angelo won the Palace Stakes, I can't help thinking he would have won the Derby but for the French horse Rueil, who tried to eat him during the race—(how shameful to let the poor thing get so hungry)—and this of course interfered with his chance—as you really cannot attend to two things at a time with a satisfactory result, unless they be sleeping and snoring!
I presume that this sort of thing is meant when one reads in the sporting papers that such-and-such a horse was "nibbled at!"—but I really think that those who saw St. Angelo on Thursday, saw the winner of the Leger! There is no race of any special importance next week, either at Windsor or Sandown, but I will give my weekly tip for the probable last in the Windsor June Handicap, and meanwhile I may as well say that I shall grace with my presence the Newmarket July Meeting, and, emulating the example of other tipsters who send "Paddock Wires," I shall be happy to supply anyone with my two-horse-a-day "Songs from the Birdcage," at five guineas a-week—(a reduction to owners)—at which price my selections must be cheap.
Yours devotedly,
LADY GAY.