Jennie was in London in service. She would not stay at home after he left, and she came to town where she could see him at times, and things were so arranged between them that when his term should expire they were to marry and go back and settle down upon the old place and be happy for evermore.
If his regiment should be ordered upon foreign duty, she would manage somehow to accompany him. Anyhow, she was entirely cured of flirting, rightly concluding that one true man is enough for one woman, and he was equally soundly cured of jealousy, though it must be admitted that he had sufficient cause therefor.
And so ends a red-coated romance.
CHAPTER III.
THE DERBY RACES, WITH SOME OTHER THINGS.
HORSE-RACING in America is not considered the most exciting, or, for that matter, the most reputable business in the world. A horsey man, except in New York, is not looked upon with much favor, being, as a rule, and I suppose justly, regarded as a modified and somewhat toned down black-leg.
I never ventured money upon but one race. I shall never forget it, for it was my first and last experience.
It was many years ago, ere time had whitened my locks, and had set the seal of age in my face in the form of wrinkles. It is needless to say I was as immature mentally as physically, or what is to follow would not have occurred.
There was a horseman in the county in Ohio in which I was living named Carpenter—Sol. Carpenter. Every horseman’s given name is abbreviated, the same as a negro minstrel’s. Carpenter was the possessor of many horses which he used in racing, but he had one, “Nero,” which commanded the confidence of all the sporting men for miles around. In a mile race he had never been beaten, and there were wild rumors, which obtained credence, that he had won a four-mile race in Kentucky (which at that time was the starting point for all the running horses), and that Sol. was holding him back for some great master-stroke of turf business.
Presently there appeared in Greenfield—Sol. lived in Plymouth—a horse named “Calico,” which the owner intimated could lay out “Nero,” without any particular trouble or worry. Carpenter laughed the man to scorn—his name was Pete Scobey—and promptly challenged him for a mile dash, two best in three.
AN AMERICAN HORSE CONTEST.