Evening Star Newspaper, March 30, 1930, Page 99

DN, "D. C, MARCH 30, 1930. ries of the Past Year—By MacGregor Jenkins composure a little when I Alcantara and my own as . Details of Alcantara’s age, sex and color my racing colors, and T. was anneunced as the rider. The region could producé, and I rece some horses who had substantial repu- me out and again assured horse was right. He suggest- that a small wager on him might be profit- . I am not a betting man, but the last me strangely. I had begun a large catholicity of spirit toward all of horse ownership and horse rac- allowed Tobias to conduct me to a man who placed a modest the surprising odds of 30 to 1. Tobias to learn the reason for so agains Alcantara. The inci- shaken my faith in him and I began visions of possible victory empty ‘Tobias felt that the odds were prob- ably the result of the unfortunate items in the press, but he pointed out that they meant larger profits if we won, which seemed to me a sordid point of view. I had secured a box and had invited a few of my intimate friends to occupy it with me. I had chosen those who had been in the secret of my ownership from the first and who seemed to regard my entering the racing game with less concern than some others, notably my business associates. ‘The first races on the flat, and a minor steeplechase or two, seemed to me perfunctory spiritless, though the crowd seemed to en- joy them. Late in the afternoon the Bedford was announced, and there was an evident stire ring of interest among the lookers-on. The judges’ stand gave the field, and some concern that none of the been scratched. Proudly I saw . Starkweather appear with the As I sat tearing my program to 2 S§EgEERE g&gggaggg 1Rl : Muses, and their connection with horse racing seemed remote. Then came the parade from the paddock. Led by a scarlet-coated official, the 11 contest- ants passed the grandstand. Had I been in a normal condition, I should have been thrilled by it. Eleven creatures, sleek, sinewy, nervous, with tossing, impatient heads, foam-flecked forequarters and dainty tread, they seemed hardly to touch the soft earth beneath their feet. On the back of each a crouching little figure, brilliant in gaudy satin. They weighed in. I watched Alcantara. For sheer beauty he was the peer of the best. He seemed strangely docile, and I tried desperately to read the secret of those baffling eyes. I finally got them in my glass for a fleeting sec- lond and I saw the same strange, tired look, the same eternal interrogation that always ap- peared there. As Tobias remounted, I watohed lhis face. Sallow, thin from weeks of training, ere was not a shadow of expression of any jort. His face was as baffling as Alcantara’s yes. ‘They were off to the post just within my line of vision. For a while confusion reigned. Turn- ng, milling, rearing, it seemed impossible that an orderly start could ever be made. This was he crucial moment. Would Alcantara start? s was the uncertainty. If he did, there was p fair chance that he would finish well up; if not, it was all over. I watched him closely. 'obias had his hands full and was maneuvering 3 ully. I had noticed that he carried no hip and his heels were innocent of spurs. Now he seemed to need them. Instead, he leaned till farther over and caressed the nervous neck pefore him. HEY were off. Thanks to some strange good fortune, Alcantara bad consented to start th them.. They thundered by in & blur of polor, closely bunched, with Alcantara holding “The jump took its toll, for here two horses went down.” a respectable position to the fore. The race twice around a prescribed course, begin- ending on the home stretch of the In a few seconds they were on the out of sight for the moment. As ad- Tobias, I at once joined a throng of mflruhmcwpombofmun. With a hundred others I sought the water jump, the the beat of hoofs on crest of a little hill appear h ders of a rider. It was not Tobias and my heart sank. Down & steep dip they came headlong for the brush and water. Singly and in pairs they rose and sailed incredibly, landing in their stride and tearing off again in a welter of color and con- fusion. The jump took its toll, for here two horses went down. Some mischance, some mis- step or ill-considered move by their half in it. The jockeys rolled like balls of bright silk and were barely missed by the following horses, the field went on. Of the 11 starters, I nine at the jump. The two only seven in the running, tara with the fifth, circuit twice, so I rushed see the finish. At this jump Alcantara third position and was running easily. two horses ahead of him, one was fal the other had evidently not extended hi and was running easily under the restrai hand of a smiling and confident rider. Here I got a good look at both Tobias and his mount. Tobias was well forward on his 5&53%5 lips were moving—not in prayer, I fancy, but in some strange jockey incantation. He was tell- ing Alcantara something and the horse was listening. As they flashed by I saw a new Al- cantara. Gone was the cynic’s pose, gone the bewildered, questioning look in the eyes; in their stead were a fire and a will to win that had transfigured him. After the jump was cleared, Tobias sat down to ride. As they van- ished, the stooping shoulders were sinking lower and lower, the cramped knees coming higher and higher and the hands reaching out nearer and nearer the tossing head. I returned to my box. There was nothing to do now but to live through the dreadful mo- ments until the reappeared. I pressed my hand to my aching eyes. I was dimly conscious of some jocular remarks from my companions. I did not have long to wait. On the brow of the hill just before the water jump they ap- peared for a second, and almost even with the leader I saw the lavender and white. Tobias had moved up! Would he survive the water jump a second time? I closed my eyes again. Then the throng rose as a man, and far off I heard cheering. THE moment of my dreams had come. Down the stretch they raced, stride for stride, the rival jockey resorting to whip and spur. Tobias was so far forward that he could almost whis- per in the sensitive ears, and his lips were moving convulsively. On they came. A few scant rods ahead was the finish, and as yet it was the race for either. Suddenly Alcantara seemed to gather himself. Tobias raised his head and shoulders a bit and Alcantara pushed his nose by his rival. The horse faltered for second, and Alcantara swept under the wire in the lead. recall what happened then, except ly remember clambering out of the into a milling crowd. One by one the orses returned with drooping heads and heav- ing flanks. They were stripped and the jockeys and their kit again weighed. I sought out Alcantara. He stood proudly in the surging crowd with head erect, nostrils distended and eyes gleaming. All at once I found myself be- side him. I threw my arm over his neck and heard the whirr and click of countless cameras. Some one appeared with an immense floral horseshoe and laid it on Alcantara’s neck; again the cameras clicked and whirred. Tobias joined me. I wrung his hand. Word failed me. A stable boy, my stable boy, a complete stranger to me, as- sisted Tobias, and Alcantara was shrouded in an enormous cooler and led away. It was over. The hour of my dream had come and passed. Again I confronted a bat- tery of cameras, this time holding an ornate piece of plate. I sought the stable. Tobias was in no mood to talk. I told him to come to me in the evening, and with my wildly jubilant companions I motored home. We were recog- nized at every turn and cheers and shouts of congratulation greeted us everywhere. 1 was in a daze. The whole thing seemed unreal; everything but the memory of the face of my business partner, of which I caught a momentary glimpse as.I posed with the silver pitcher. It was not a pleasant face to re- member. We dined sumptuously at the club and I in- sisted on paying for everything. This was my night, I explained, and besides, the committee would be sending me a sizable check in the morning. After dinner I hastened home to meet Tobias. I half expected to find him there on my return. He had not come, so I sent out for all the evening papers, particularly those more devoted to the gentle art of horse racing. I read every word of them all. In every one I saw my picture. In some of the photographs I held the pitcher, but in most of them I had my arm caressingly around Alcantara’s neck. None of the pictures, I thought, did justice to either Alcantara or myself, and my smile seemed peculiarly silly and fatuous. I finished the papers, and still Tobias failed to appear. After an hour or two I resorted to the telephone. I could not find him at any of the places I thought he might frequent on this memorable evening. The race track failed to respond, the training quarters knew naught of Tobias or the horse. With aching head I went to bed and passed a night of troubled dreams. I was up early and breakfasted alone. The morning papers gave me some solace. But it all seemed cold and perfunctory now. The doorbell rang in the distance, and I was brought a letter and a tiny bundle. The letter proved to be a laconic communication from Tobias. In the briefest manner I was told that, & few hours after our triumph, Alcantara had passed out of this world of turmoil and trou- ble. Heart strain in the race—that was all; it was not uncommon. Tobias would see me soon, but in the meantime he had sent me a memento of Alcantara. I opened the bundle and found a dainty racing shoe scarcely scratched by use. I sat for a moment stunned by the unex- pected news; then I determined to be up and doing. I dashed to the race track. Tobias was not there; nor was Alcantara. I made inquiries, only to learn that Tobias and the horse had departed for an undesignated destination. I spent the day following fruitless clews. I DECLINED an invitation to a congratulatory dinner to be given that night by friends, and spent the evening in the solitude of my library in thoughtful mood. I reviewed with care all the incidents of my association with Tobias. I recalled one detail that I had forgotten. Before What Handwriting Really Tells. Continued from Fifth Page readable stamp on handwriting, Dr. Downey explained. Patients suffering from melancholic depression, a disease marked by sluggish energy, are found to decrease the size of their writing. Patients who are maniacally excited often en- large their writing. Other mental patients who are victims of delusions decorate their hand- writing with elaborate and fantastic flourishes, particularly if they have delusions as to their own grandeur or importance. If medical graphology is ever put on a firm basis, it may explain some of the mysterious ills from which geniuses and other historic personages have suffered, Dr. Downey believes. ENTIONING Shakespeare as an example, Dr. Downey said that Dr. Charles L. Dana of Cornell University Medical College thought he might be able to determine the cause of Shakespeare’s death at the early age of 52 by studying the six veritable signatures now known to exist. The six signatures, all made within three years of his death, show many defects. They have even been cited as the writing of an illiterate man and as one proof that Shakespeare did not write the plays attributed to him. The fact that Shakespeare wrote Gothic script and not Roman accounts for some of the wierdness, but not all. Scrutinizing the bad form of the historic signatures, Dr. Dana saw evidence of loss of normal control. For a long time the doctor had his patients write “William Shakespeare,” in the hope of identifying the signs in the poet’s signatures. His quest was never successful. He did satis- fy himself on the negative points that Shakes- peare did not show signs of writers’ cramp or alcoholism in his writings. In view of Shakes- peare’s many plays it was interesting to make sure that he had not overtaxed his writing arm. Alcoholism as we see it was compara- tively rare in Elizabethan days, Dr. Dana the race, Tobias and I had agreed that, shouli Alcantara win or make a respectable showiny, we should sell him at once at as high a figure as possible. In my scber moments I had no desire to con- tinue in the racing game, and Tobias pointed out that the interest in Alcantara would be passing. Some other horse would eclipse him and his value would drop. To this end I had executed a document authorizing Tobias to ne- gotiate a sale, in his own name, at any price satisfactory to him. I had suggested such an arrangement after witnessing one of Alcantara’'s most perverse and ill-mannered performances during his schooling. His conduet had made me despair of ever selling him at all. Recalling this act of imbecility on my part, I cursed Tobias as a faithless friend. Then there appeared before me the face of my van- ished partner in all the pathos of his melan- choly. I saw again the drooping corners of his youthful mouth, and his old man’s eyes, tir and lustreless, and I knew I wronged him. thought of him as bowed with grief, hiding from the world, and waiting for the first poignancy of his sorrow to pass that he might seek me out. I found no allusion in the press to the pass- ing of the winner of the Bedford. I made no more inquiries, for, with a hideous suspicion gnawing at my heart, I felt that all my rela- tions with this unfortunate horse had best be buried in a grave as unmarked and as unknown as his own. I solved now the mystery of Alcantara’s eyes. He had seen from the first the futility of the whole enterprise. He had known, come what might, victory or defeat, triumph or humilia- tion, that we should be parted. If not an un- timely end, then the duplicity of man would sever us forever. For one crowded hour he had determined to live, or some strange alchemy was wought by the whispering lips of the little man bestride him. For a few glorious moments he would be king, and king he was. The following days brought painful remind- ers of the past. Bills of all sorts came in, among them one for a floral horseshoe that cost a prince’s ransom. These I paid without comment, One evening, being in reminiscent mood, I picked up a copy of a sporting sheet which I had affected during my brief period of owner- ship. The first item which attracted my at- tention was the announcement of the sale of Alcantara, the reecnt winner of the Bedford, by his “owner and trainer,” T. Starkweather. The price was staggering. I read it carefully, folded the paper with precision, and laid it beneath a horseshoe on my desk. I returned to the routine of my former life, and after many months restored my associates’ shaken confidence. I could have taken stern measures to find Tobias and wrest from him my share of his ill-gotten gains. But to what purpose? It was vastly better than the glamour of my brief career on the turf should fade gradualy and not be extinguished with a sordid quarrel. The lavender and white no more flash be- neath autumnal suns over grassy meads. As an owner I no longer participate in the pleas- ures of the race. But sometimes, when in pen- sive mood, I wonder. Where is Tobias? Through what devious paths is that little, silent, joyless man threading his way? Has he a partner in horses now, and who is he? Will Alcantara start, and if he does will he continue in the desired direction? Is he still living his perplexed and questioning life over brush and rails on natural country? If so, where? I do not know. I do not care. I had my hour. (Copyright, 1930.) pointed out, when he reported his work in the volume on “Problems of Personality.” Shakes- peare’s writing is not like modern alcoholes. Nor did he apparently have paralysis agitans, as Dr. Dana had suspected. THE most that the psychiatrist was able to conclude was that Shakespeare died frem some form of vascular disease. His defective signatures would be explained by a clot af- fecting his left mid-brain, Dr. Dana pointed out. “There is one form of handwriting which hag attracted many experimenters,” Dr. Downey continues. “This is mirror-writing, so namea because it can be easily read by holding it up before a mirror. To write it, the penman be- gins at the right and moves toward the left. “Any one who cares to practice can become expert at mirror-writing. It is also possible to write with both hands simultaneously, each moving out from the center or each starting at the edge of the paper and working in. In these experiments, one hand writes normally, the other reverses. If you try these experiments, you will realize the principle. The easiest movements of the body are centrifugal, or out from the body as a center; the hardest are centeripetal, or in toward the center, Dr. Downey has found. Se, if you are right-handed it is hard to writey: mirror fashion. If you are a left-hander or if you are in- clined to be left-handed, it will be much easier, and mirror-writing is thought to be the natural writing of the left hand. But since normal writing is the other way, the left-handers do the next best thing—write backhand. Many speculations have been advanced as to whether da Vinei was left-handed and so nat- urally wrote reversed script. At any rate, he used the mirror script in secret documents, and his will was so written in this curious style. (Copyright, 1930.) g -