Independently of the exciting nature of the race, an intercolonial element was added. Bob Clarke and his steed were natives of Tasmania; the cool climate and insular position of which have been thought to be favourable to human and equine development. Much colour for the supposition was recognised by the eager gazers of Mr. Bob Clarke and his gallant bay, The Cid.
The former was evidently born for a career of social success. Chivalrous and energetic, with a bright smile, a pleasant manner, his popularity was easy of explanation.
In a ball room, where his modesty was in the inverse ratio to his iron-nerved performances across country, he was a rival not to be despised. Among men he was voted ‘an out-and-out good fellow,’ or a gentlemanlike, manly lad, from whatever side emanated the criticism.
The Cid was a grand horse, if not quite worthy of the exaggerated commendation which his admirers bestowed. A handsome, upstanding animal, bright bay, with black points, he had a commanding-looking forehand, ‘that you could hardly see over,’ as a Tasmanian turfite observed, besides a powerful quarter, with hips, the same critic was pleased to observe, ‘as wide as a fire-place.’ In his trials he was known to have taken leaps equal in height to anything ever crossed by a horse. But a stain in his blood occasionally showed out, in a habit of baulking. Of this peculiarity he gave no notice whatever, sometimes indulging it at the commencement, sometimes at the end of a race, to the anguish of well-wishers and the dismay of backers. A determined rider was therefore indispensable. As on this occasion the only man in the country-side ‘who could ride him as he ought to be ridden,’ according to popular belief, was up, who had also trained him for this particular race, little apprehension was felt as to the result.
Not less confident were the friends of St. Andrew, a different animal in appearance, but of great merit in the eyes of judges. Not so large as his celebrated antagonist, he had the condensed symmetry of the racehorse. Boasting the blue blood of Peter Fin (imported) on his mother’s side, his Camerton pedigree on the other, entitled him to be ticketed ‘thorough-bred as Eclipse.’ A compact and level horse, with the iron legs of the tribe, every muscle stood out, beautifully developed by a careful preparation. His dark chestnut satin coat, his quiet, determined air, the unvarying cleverness with which he performed in private, together with the acknowledged excellence of his rider, rendered the Benmohr division confident of victory.