o owned Buckland Park Station, about twenty-five miles from Adelaide,
offered me one of his station horses. We named him Buckland. He was the
soundest and best jumper I ever threw my legs across. He was even better
than "Kate Dwyer." For two seasons he never gave me a fall. I have, for a
wager, put up a sheet of corrugated iron six feet long by two and a half
feet wide, leaning it slanting against a rest, in the middle of a
paddock, and, jumping on Buckland's back, I would ride him straight at
it. He never bothered to go to the right or left of it. The old horse
would take it in his stride and sail over it without rapping it. Wire
fences were child's play to him; he got over them just as easily as he
negotiated post and rails.

Satan, a thoroughbred I bought after a selling race at Morphetville, was
my second string. He had broken down in his near foreleg during the race.
He was only three years old, jet black, sixteen hands one, and as
handsome as paint. I had named him Satan. I had by this time been asked
by the general on several occasions to accompany him as his staff officer
at such times as he was making his inspections, and I thought it would be
well for me to have a decent charger. The general liked a good horse.
Satan was just the horse. I had him for some twelve years. I schooled him
to jump, and he took to it very kindly. Many are the miles of road
travelling he saved me when later on we were busy with field manoeuvres,
by his jumping capacities. Satan was not a "Buckland," but he seldom
failed me. So it came to pass that I was able to enjoy many a good day
with the hounds on Saturday afternoons; then a good dinner, the theatre,
and afterwards a little fun and light-hearted supper and frolic at the
club till the early hours of Sunday morning.

What a crowd of real good sportsmen lived in Adelaide in those days!
Perhaps the oldest and most respected of the professional sports was Mr.
Filgate. Then there was Seth Ferry, who had ridden many a hard race in
his life; Saville, as clever with his pencil as he was as a
trainer--brother-in-law, I think, of Leslie Macdonald, who afterwards
managed Wilson's stud at St. Albans, Victoria, and on Wilson's death
became an owner himself, and a successful one, too. Revenue won the
Melbourne Cup for him, and several other good horses have in late years
carried his colours to the front in first-class races. Leslie Macdonald
is still a very well-preserved man, a first-class spor