d I know that just as soon as a man gets cracked after fast horses,
it's good-by John with him.

In the next place, I wouldn't mind it if it was only interesting to me.
But it isn't. It bores me to death. You sit there and sit there trying
to keep awake while the drivers jockey and jockey, scheming to get the
advantage of the other fellow, and the bell rings so many times for them
to come back after you think: "They're off this time, sure," that you
get sick of hearing it. And when they do get away, why, who can tell
which horse is in the lead? On the far side of the track they don't
appear to do anything but poke along, and once in a while some fool
horse will "break" and that's annoying. And then when they come into
the stretch, the other folks that see you with the field-glasses, keep
nudging you and asking: "Who 's ahead, mister? Hay? Who's ahead?" And
it's ruinous to the voice to yell: "Go it! Go it! Go IT, ye devil,
you!" with your throat all clenched that way and your face as red as a
turkey-gobbler's. And that second when they are going under the wire,
and the horse you rather like is about a nose behind the other one
that you despise--Oh, tedious, very tedious. Ho hum, Harry! If I wasn't
engaged, I wouldn't marry. Did you think to put a saucer of milk out for
the kitty before you locked up the house?

No. Horse-racing bores me to death, and as I am one of the charter
members of the Anti-Other-Folks-Enjoyment Society, organized to stop
people from amusing themselves in ways that we don't care for, you
can readily see that it is a matter of principle with me to ignore
horseracing, and not to give it so much encouragement as would come from
mentioning it.

If you're so interested in improving the breed of horses by competitive
contests, what 's the matter with that one where the prize is $5 for the
team that can haul the heaviest load on a stoneboat, straight pulling?
Pile on enough stones to build a house, pretty near, and the owner
of the team, a young fellow with a face like Keats, goes "Ck! Ck! Ck!
Geet... ep... thah BILL! Geet ep, Doll-ay!" and cracks his whip, and
kisses with his mouth, and the horses dance and tug, and jump around and
strain till the stone-boat slides on the grass, and then men climb on
until the load gets so heavy that the team can't budge it. Then another
team tries, and so on, the competitors jawing and jowering at each other
with: "Ah, that ain't fair! That ain't fair! They started it