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Lot Essay
Palmer, the son of a parson, was born at Market Rasen, England and was educated at King's College, London. At the age of seventeen he ran away to Canada, where he spent eleven years on ranches. He later settled in New York where he earned a living sketching and painting horses. This series of watercolors was painted there and illustrates a popular steeplechase poem called 'How we beat the Favourite':
Dark-brown with tan muzzle, just stripped for the tussle - Stood erect, arching her neck to the curb, A lean head and fiery, strong quarters and wiry, A loin rather light, but a shoulder superb.
When Reginald Murray, full tilt on White Surrey, Came down in hurry to start us at once. I took them a burster, nor eased her nor nursed her Until the Black Bullfinch led into the plough, And through strong bramble we bored with a Scramble - My cap was knocked off by the hazel-tree bough She rose where the Clown did - our silks as we bounded Brushed lightly, our stirrups clash'd loud as we lit She rose when I hit her. I saw the stream glitter. a wide scarlet nostril flashed close to my knee. Between sky and water the Clown came and caught her, The space that he cleared was a caution to me. A nose I could swear by, but Clarke said 'The Mare by A short head.' And that's how the favorite was beat.
Dark-brown with tan muzzle, just stripped for the tussle - Stood erect, arching her neck to the curb, A lean head and fiery, strong quarters and wiry, A loin rather light, but a shoulder superb.
When Reginald Murray, full tilt on White Surrey, Came down in hurry to start us at once. I took them a burster, nor eased her nor nursed her Until the Black Bullfinch led into the plough, And through strong bramble we bored with a Scramble - My cap was knocked off by the hazel-tree bough She rose where the Clown did - our silks as we bounded Brushed lightly, our stirrups clash'd loud as we lit She rose when I hit her. I saw the stream glitter. a wide scarlet nostril flashed close to my knee. Between sky and water the Clown came and caught her, The space that he cleared was a caution to me. A nose I could swear by, but Clarke said 'The Mare by A short head.' And that's how the favorite was beat.