SIXTY YEARS ON THE TURF 



as I was going upstairs at the Regent Hotel, 

 Leamington, about 8.30 at night, I met Admiral 

 Rous. 



" What ! " I said, " not dined, Admiral ? It's near- 

 ing nine o'clock." 



" No. Dinner's not till nine. Such hours don't 

 suit me. But I suppose I must put up with them." 



" Well, I've finished dinner," I returned, " and am 

 going over to the Warwick Arms at Warwick, 

 where Lambert, Swindell, and the ' school ' are 

 staying." 



" Oh," interposed the Admiral, " do you know 

 anything about the Truth gelding ? " 



" Who does he belong to ? " 



" Swindell." 



And with that he pulled his handicap for the 

 Cesarewitch from his pocket, and showed it me. 



"What does all this mean ? " I asked, pointing to 

 the Truth gelding, " You have him in at all sorts 

 of weights— 7 st. 4 lb., 6 st. 12 lb., 6 st. 4 lb., 6 st., 

 5 St. 12 lb. What does it mean ? " 



" Well," he answered, " I am told by several 

 people that he's a rod in pickle. Others say he is 

 bad. And I'm bothered because he hasn't run for 

 two years. That is the reason why I can't settle on 

 his weight. As you're going to see Swindell, would 

 you mind asking him about what sort of a horse he is?" 



226 



