My Racing Adventures 



piece of string or a fish-hook attached to every- 

 thing which he promised to give away. 



Whilst, as intimated, I never sustained a 

 fall abroad that damaged me beyond hope of 

 redemption — and I have ridden there over all 

 sorts of extraordinary courses — I had my share 

 of tumbles. I have fallen at (and into) the 

 brook, over the stone wall, at the double post 

 and rails, and at the bank, notably at Auteuil ; 

 and Providence must have been looking after a 

 meritorious jockey in a foreign land on those 

 occasions. " A fair old buster " was the descrip- 

 tion given of one severe " purler " taken by this 

 modest Historian, and the speaker was an ex- 

 pert — that is, he had been pretty thoroughly 

 "busted" himself. Only sportsmen who have 

 been through the ordeal know what it is to come 

 out of it with one's vital spark, such as it is, still 

 flourishing. " A horse," said an old jockey, " does 

 not roll on you with an idea of doing you any 

 good, and if you are dragged out looking some- 

 thing like a pancake, do not blame the noble 

 beast — he has done his best." A little better, 

 and there might have been promising material 

 for an inquest on neutral territory. There is 

 always somebody ready to identify the corpse. 



At Auteuil, too, " Chippeway " fell with me at 



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