My Racing Adventures 



eminent steeplechase jockey, whom they both 

 knew, was a bit of a fool. The response was 

 crisp, not to say inhuman. 



" Why, of course, he is no end of a fool," said 

 the friend, "or he would not be a steeplechase 

 jockey." That is what we get for providing the 

 British public with sport of a brisk and exciting 

 character, on which they can bet till the book- 

 makers seek safety in flight. 



My first experience of riding serious jumping 

 after I left school was disastrous. I was teach- 

 ing the young idea how to " lep " in the paddock 

 at home over small fences, when my father, who 

 was standing by, cracked his whip, the result 

 being that my horse took off about three lengths 

 from the fence and dropped on it, also on me. 

 I was insensible for some time, and had my ribs 

 bent on the right side. My reflections on coming 

 to were not hilarious. It was a bad start. To 

 be knocked out at the first time of asking, to be 

 so terribly maltreated during the first lesson — 

 well, it was rather a disillusion for an ambitious 

 novice. 



But I was soon up and about again, keen 

 as ever to take my turn in the "schooling" 

 revelries ; and, for a mercy, in youth one quickly 

 forgets the last fall in anticipation of another. 



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