I raised a four year old colt once, half blood, a perfect pictur of a horse, and a genuine clipper, could gallop like the wind; a real daisy, a perfect doll, had an eye like a weasel, and nostril like Commodore Rodgers’s speakin trumpet.  Well, I took it down to the races at New York, and father he went along with me; for says he, Sam, you don’t know every thing, I guess, you hant cut your wisdom teeth yet, and you are goin among them that’s had ’em through their gums this while past.  Well, when we gets to the races, father he gets colt and puts him in an old waggon, with a worn out Dutch harness, and breast band; he looked like Old Nick, that’s a fact.  Then he fastened a head martingale on, and buckled it to the girths atwixt his fore legs.  Says I, father, what on airth are you at?  I vow I feel ashamed to be seen with such a catamaran as that, and colt looks like old Saytan himself—­no soul would know him.  I guess I warn’t born yesterday, says he, let me be, I know what I am at.  I guess I’ll slip it into ’em afore I’ve done as slick as a whistle.  I guess I can see as far into a mill stone as the best on ’em.  Well, father never entered the horse at all, but stood by and see’d the races, and the winnin horse was followed about by the matter of two or three thousand people, a praisin of him and admirin him.  They seemed as if they never had see’d a horse afore.  The owner of him was all up on eend a boastin of him, and a stumpin the course to produce a horse to run agin him for four hundred dollars.  Father goes up to him, lookin as soft as dough, and as meechin as you please, and says he, friend, it tante every one that has four hundred dollars—­its a plaguy sight of money, I tell you; would you run for one hundred dollars, and give me a little start? if you would, I’d try my colt out of my old waggon agin you, I vow.  Let’s look at your horse, says he; so away they went, and a proper sight of people arter them to look at colt, and when they see’d him they sot up such a larf, I felt een a most ready to cry for spite.  Says I to myself; what can possess the old man to act arter that fashion, I do believe he has taken leave of his senses.  You need’nt larf, says Father, he’s smarter than he looks; our Minister’s old horse, Captain Jack, is reckoned as quick a beast of his age as any in our location, and that are colt can beat him for a lick of a quarter of a mile quite easy—­I see’d it myself.  Well, they larfed agin louder than before, and says father, if you dispute my word, try me; what odds will you give?  Two to one, says the owner—­800 to 400 dollars.  Well, that’s a great deal of money, aint it, says father, if I was to lose it I’d look pretty foolish, would’nt I. How folks would pass their jokes at me when I went home again.  You would’nt take that are waggon and harness for fifty dollars of it, would you? says he.  Well, says the other, sooner than disappoint you, as you seem to have set your mind on losing your money, I don’t care if I do.