My Racing Adventures 



One of our greatest enthusiasts in respect to 

 riding was my grandfather, John Nightingall, who 

 used to steer racehorses regularly at exercise on 

 Epsom Downs after he was eighty years of age. 

 He always wore a top-hat for that purpose, per- 

 sistently eschewing any other form of headgear ; 

 he declined emphatically to ride anything but a 

 racehorse up to the very last ; and the fact is not 

 a little remarkable, especially having regard to 

 his advanced age, that there were some queer- 

 tempered horses in our stable that he rode better 

 than any one else. If we had a trial in which he 

 was not allowed to take part, his indignation was 

 expressed in vigorous or riotous terms. " What ! " 

 he would exclaim, "too old, am I? Well, if 

 some of you youngsters had half my pluck, you 

 would win more races than are now placed to 

 the credit of your account." 



Another of his aphorisms was to the effect that 

 so long as a man keeps on riding he will never 

 grow old. He will pass quietly away before he 

 has time to realise that anything special or im- 

 portant has happened. " Stick to the saddle, my 

 lad," advised my grandfather, " and age will not 

 trouble you till it is almost too late to make a 

 fatal impression." 



He was notable for his fine " hands " on a horse; 



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