ADVENTURES OF TOM OLLIVER 89 



those of jockeys on the flat, and the public shows no such 

 interest in great steeplechase riders as it did in the days 

 of which my laudator temporis acti at Birmingham is a sur- 

 vival. And there was a savour of romance and adventure 

 about the lives of such men as Jem Mason, Tom Olliver, 

 and Captain Beecher which is lacking in the careers of our 

 modern knights of the pigskin. The biographies of these 

 men teem with interesting and entertaining anecdotes. I 

 will take Tom Olliver first, because I know him personally 

 and have had many a yarn with him after he had settled 

 down as a trainer at Wroughton. 



Olliver himself used frankly to admit that he was inferior 

 as a horseman to Jem Mason. I once heard him say : " I 

 have ridden hundreds of miles across country with Jem 

 Mason, not only in steeplechases, but in trials of recent 

 purchases brought into the stable by his father-in-law, Mr 

 Elmore. I can say it without fear of contradiction that he 

 was the finest horseman in England — I have never ridden 

 with him without envying the perfection of his style." 

 Nevertheless, many good judges who saw both men ride 

 at their best were of opinion that, splendid horseman as 

 Mason was when all went well, if they got into difficulties 

 towards the finish the wonderful presence of mind, the iron 

 nerve, and the daring pluck of Olliver would pull him 

 through against Mason or any man living. 



Tom's career was a chequered and eventful one, and few 

 men experienced more of Fortune's buffets than he. His 

 father was in a chronic state of insolvency, and Tom was 

 left to run to seed. Yet though the youngster early showed 

 his love of horses and ability to ride them, his father would 

 not hear of him becoming a professional jockey. 



Fortunately Tom had an uncle, Mr Page, a well-known 

 trainer at Epsom, who saw that his nephew had the stuff" 

 in him of which great horsemen are made. 



The boy had a strong will of his own, and, taking 

 advantage of his father's absence at some harvest merry- 

 making, he, one night, tied up his clothes in a pocket- 

 handkerchief, crept out of the house, and, with his wardrobe 

 slung upon the end of an ash sapling, and fourteen and 

 sixpence in his pocket, which he had been for months 



