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the favorite losing. Huzzah for Mok-row. (Tommorow [sic] Morning when Diddle's owner awakes from his painful & stupified night's rest, his feelings upon this occasion will not be of the most blissful character)

  Mok-row's master & jockey, went quietly off the course perfectly satisfied.  diddle's owner must bear his loss phylosophically [sic]  {{?]] Squire, I'll send for the Cow & calf tommorow [sic] squire - All right - go a head!  This is the last time Diddle diddles me.

General - Sheriff, you may send the Niggers over when convenient. Sheriff - Ay. Ay. General. By the ____ D____ on the race Captain __ Why Colonel I hope youll have better luck tommorow long races - none of them jumps. Zip will come for the Black Mare in a day or two. And in this way, they settled about their bets until the course was clear. Some said there was jockeying, for when Diddle had got to half-course he passed Mok-row & shot a head, but the"Judges of the Course" were unanimous as to Mok-rows superior speed & decided victory.