Mr. J. M. Richardson's Writings Collated 



Thanks to sundry friends bound for the same destination as 

 ourselves, who kindly acted as interpreters, the journey to 

 Baden-Baden was accomplished in great ease and comfort, and 

 it was not until we started to return that our troubles began, 

 but of that anon. 



Besides George Ede and myself there was only one other 

 Englishman riding in the big race, viz. my old friend, Arthur 

 Tempest — still going strong and well, I am pleased to say, and 

 the same keen sportsman as ever — all the rest, about a dozen, 

 being French and Germans, mostly military men, I fancy. We 

 three made the running, and all went well until reaching the 

 water-jump, when Arthur Tempest's mount swerving against 

 mine whilst in the air we both fell into the brook, followed 

 immediately afterwards by the rest of the field, every one of 

 whom came down. The scene that ensued baffles description, 

 and " the vulgar 'busman's cry, ' Full inside ! ' " was surely never 

 more appropriate than then, the brook being crammed to its 

 utmost capacity with a seething mass of struggling men and 

 horses, from whence issued a babel of strange oaths in different 

 keys. 



The brook was in the first mile, and not another horse got 

 over but Benazet, or even out of it in time to try and get to 

 him, so there was nothing for it but for all of us, numbering 

 about a dozen or more, to return to the enclosure. 



Now came the trouble I referred to just now. 



George Ede and I being due to ride at Warwick, had to 

 leave directly after the steeplechase, and our only chance of 

 being in time was to charter a special to catch a certain train 

 at Darmstadt. This was all very well, but to make our wants 

 known to the railway officials was another matter. Our 

 German was bad, and I am afraid our tempers were worse, 

 with the result that we missed the express we hoped to catch, 



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