If dancing was the first form of amusement to emanate from prehistoric
savagery, then racing must surely have come next. It may possibly have
come first. However, we shall leave the "theorizin"' to be settled by
the lips of the first mummy whose centuries-old tissues shall be roused
to full life by modern science. What has science not achieved? We have
gone beyond wonder. We can only believe, and become blase!

Meantime there is still enough red blood in the modern effete
productions of humans to enjoy a contest of stress and strain, and brain
and brawn, and to gamble upon the outcome.

In the '49 days, racing was one of the most popular forms of chance, and
it often reverted in bizarre tangents. This, then, is what happened at a
golden fiesta during the week of races:

"Sweet Lady, are all my importunities to be in vain?"

"I must confess that I can not bring my mind to a decision, Mr. Saul,"
answered Mistress Patty Laughton, blushing and curtsying prettily.

"It is surely not for your lack of worldly goods that you hesitate,"
persisted Slick-heels Saul. "As for what your father is owing me, it
shall, at the moment of your acceptance, be wiped entirely from the
books."

Patty was incensed at the hint of insolence in the gambler's allusion to
her improvident father's financial condition.

"Believe me, Mr. Saul," she said, with spirit, "no ulterior motive for
worldly advancement has the power to coerce my afflections."