The season is now fairly over, and it only remains for us to write “The last dying speech and confession” of Newmarket, and its Houghton and November Meetings. Well, the sport went merrily on to the end...There was nothing in the shape of flagging to be observed—no threadbare quantum of sport finely drawn out; but, on the contrary, as our readers will see by the returns, the interest was kept up to the last...
The career of the winner of the Cambridgeshire has been a curious one, strongly reminding one of that attributed to the Godolphin Arabian, for, like him, she was nursed in the lap of sorrow, contempt and neglect being her portion. An orphan from her birth, she was thought nothing of, and her owner presented her to his bailiff, who ultimately sold her for a trifle, some ten or twelve pounds, we believe. Time passed on, and the forlorn little Widow was left to her fate. When broken in, which was not until a considerable period had elapsed, she was kicked and cuffed about, had her knees broken, and had sunk as low in misery as she well could. Ultimately, she fell into good hands, and her present owners discovering her racing points, put her into training, and she has run at different places with varied success, at last rewarding their perseverance by placing this rich prize in their pockets, together with a small fortune in bets; the old adage being exemplified, that it is better to be born fortunate than rich. Neglected in her youth, she became hardy, and in her old age, will be luxuriously cared for, whilst many a gallant thoroughbred, of whom great things were expected, and whose juvenile days were passed in pampered luxury, may now be found harnessed to a street cab, or more commonly to those country abominations, a “fly”. Those who run may read; and a moral and a good one, may be extracted from the story of the Widow, and the last handicap of the year.
Bucks Herald - Saturday 13 November 1847
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