I forgot to mention the fact that the day is Sunday, but this seems to make little difference to these gayety-loving people.
The horses start, and now betting and excitement go hand in hand.
| “Some play for gain: to pass time, others play For nothing; both do play the fool.” |
I have the peculiar good fortune on this occasion, of predicting the winning horse a number of consecutive times in my conversation with one of our party who sits beside me. These lucky guesses attract the attention of a stranger who is on my other side, and considering them as so many evidences of remarkable judgment or knowledge, he resolves to profit thereby. Accordingly before the next running, as the horses walk slowly before the spectators and the judges’ stand, the man quietly asks me to name the winner in the next race. I quickly make a choice and mention the horse’s name. The stranger bids me good-day and hastens away to place his “pile” with some bookmaker on the identical horse which I have named.
| “Many typical Irish characters come aboard our vessel.” (See page 353.) |
With a rush of spirit and courage the noble animals fly over the course, and every jockey seated in a saddle looks determined to win. Faster and faster they urge the flying steeds with spur and voice, and the animals themselves, with distended nostrils and steaming breath dash past the judges’ stand in frenzied effort. The merry jingle of the bell proclaims that the goal is reached: the great sign-board with the winner’s name upon it is visible to all. What has become of my luck? And what has become of the stranger who relied on my judgment a few moments ago? My horse has lost. Goodness! I feel as though I have committed a crime, and I am very sure that Dame Fortune receives from me in private a score of epithets, not the most complimentary in the world for her unprincipled desertion. I feel sure that if I had my instantaneous camera, or pencil handy, this disappointed man’s face would make a foreground in the picture that would surely be a “winner.”
We leave Ostend on the steamer La Flandre. The schedule time is 10:40 A. M. We go on board amid shouts of kindly farewell from our friends on shore. As it is a clear bright day with a delightful salt breeze, there is much pleasure in sitting on deck and enjoying the view. The English Channel is generally a turbulent body of water, noted for its many victories over the unfortunates who trust themselves in its power, but to-day it is mild and calm, probably plotting mischief to the next boat load of passengers that shall come its way.