C.B.B.SMITH-BINGHAM 
 
 '&£&£ 
 
Webster Family library of Veterinary Medicine 
 Q un 'ary Medicines': 
 
 
 -536 
 
HUNTING TALK, 
 
 0O0 
 
 t> y 
 
 kAJOR W. FRASER-TYTLER. 
 
 0O0 
 
 TUFTS UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES 
 
 3 9090 013 407 
 
 23 
 
 LONDON 
 Printed by WILLIAM OLOWES & SONS, LTD. 
 3 1 , Haymarke t , S . W . 1 . 
 
(71 1 
 
 W1 
 
T 
 MY WIPE. 
 (KM. H. /. G. S.) 
 
UNLESS. 
 
 Unless you can ride, when the foxhcmnds run, 
 
 With the flying pack before you; 
 Unless you can feel, when led by none, 
 
 That hell itself won't floor you; 
 Unless you can know, with big timber in front, 
 
 Afith a big heart towards it you're striding; 
 Unless you can lead through a straight fast hunt 
 
 Oh, fear to call it riding! 
 
 Unless you can drive through a skirting crew 
 
 To the place where you mean to ride; 
 Unless you can go on a slug or a screw 
 
 As you would on your stable's pride; 
 Unless you can feel that it's heaven you're in 
 
 As over the grass you are striding, 
 Unless you can know that to funk is to sin - 
 
 Oh, never call it riding! 
 
 After Mrs. Barrett-Browning, 
 
 oOOo--- 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Preface 
 Chapter I. 
 Chapter II. 
 Chapter III. 
 Chapter IV. 
 Chapter V. 
 Chapter VI. 
 Chapter VII. 
 Chapter VIII. 
 Chapter IX. 
 
 Page v 
 
 " 1 
 
 " 8 
 
 ,t 17 
 
 ■ 24 
 
 ■ 38 
 « 47 
 
 ■ 52 
 11 62 
 " 69 
 
 •ooOoo- 
 
-v- 
 
 p R E F A C E. 
 
 It is usual in books of this kind to put forward 
 
 in the Preface some reason or excuse for their appear- 
 ance. I have observed that publication is frequently 
 ascribed to the advice of relatives and friends who, 
 having read the manuscript, have so insistently urged 
 that a wider public should be allowed to enjoy it, 
 that a more or less modest and unwilling author has 
 given wan . In my case I have been unable to detect 
 y such pr e s s ur e . 
 
 Even "M. H. w*. G. S.," to whom I dedicate the 
 work, gave me much assistance, but no direct encourage- 
 ment, although often able to keep awake while I read 
 whole chapters. Of course, nobody really has all 
 those initials. 3 letters stand for "My Helper with 
 Grammar and S pel]:' . 
 
 For myself I must admit that, on reading over the 
 uscript for the last time, my chief feeling is one 
 of amazement that anyone could make so fascinating a 
 subject so dull. 
 
 There is in the book very little that is new, but 
 there is a good deal that is sure, and if, dear reader 
 (it would be taking too sanguine a view to use the 
 plural), you plough through it, you may possibly gain 
 a few useful hints. I near the end of my Preface, and 
 am still without any excuse or reason for publication, 
 so I think I will just put it down to obstinacy. I 
 have lived more or less for hunting all my life: I said 
 I would write a book about it, and I have. I just said 
 "a book" - no adjective. But I fear, if I added the 
 adjectives I have employed while writing it, I could 
 not get my Preface into print. 
 
-vi- 
 
 The Brook has one merit: I am publishing it private- 
 ly, and it will not cost anybody 'thing. The contents 
 with a Hunting Song thrown in, are well worth the money. 
 
 In conclusion, lest that reader I have already re- 
 ferred to should think this Freface light or even amus- 
 ing, let me hasten to assure him that all the rest of 
 the book is very serious; that is a much better word 
 than "dull. 
 
 . T. ERASER -TYT: 
 
 Rock, 
 
 Washington, 
 
 Sussex. 
 
H U i: T I i: G TALK. 
 
 :a i. 
 
 I have lived my life - I am nearly done, 
 I have played the game all round; 
 
 But 1 freely adnit that the "best of my fun 
 I owe it to horse and hound. 
 
 [YTE -MELVILLE. 
 
 The future cutlool: for hunting is not very clear, 
 and we seem to he faced with thia proposition - that 
 many, proh ost, subscribers will be less well 
 off than in pre-war days (v/ar profiteers have not, 
 as a rule, been hunting men), that there may be fewer 
 of them, and that as the cost cf hunting a country 
 will be greater, those who jio hunt will have to 
 subscribe on a higher scale. 
 
 Jorrocks, as usual, was quite to the point in 
 one of his "lectors 11 when he said: "The cost of 
 hunting, my beloved 'earers, like all other things, 
 depends a 'most entirely on ' ow you go about it. 
 The only really indispensable outlay is the sub- 
 scription to the ' ounds, which ought always to be 
 paid punctual in adwance." 
 
 e cannot economise in our hunt subscriptions, 
 that seems quite certain, so we must endeavour to do 
 so in our personal hunting expenditure. 
 
 And there I come to the chief object of this 
 little book, which is written with the idea of giving 
 a few hints to keen lads as to picking up cheap 
 horses, turning them into hunters, the m« cf 
 four-year-olds, and the riding of them, when made, 
 up to hounds. 
 
 As a young man I suffered from a painfully 
 small income, but I never let it interfere with 
 
-2- 
 
 my determination to hunt, and perhaps the experience 
 I collected may be of xxse to those who have to hunt 
 "on the cheap" . 
 
 It may be that many a lad in whose way riding 
 had not previously come, joining a cavalry or yeo- 
 manry regiment for the War, has realised the joy 
 of riding and found himself a horseman. If to 
 any such, when they take to hunting, the hints 
 in this book prove of service, I shall be rewarded. 
 
 I have kept a hunting diary since the year 1887, 
 which to some measure should restrict me to actual 
 facts in the following pages. 
 
 It has been a pleasure to turn over old diaries 
 and letters which recalled good hunts enjoyed with 
 cheery comrades in days gone by, but I recognise 
 clearly that, in illustrating my various arguments 
 and points by personal experiences, I cannot fail 
 to be somewhat egotistical. 
 
 Many better men to hounds have I seen, but obvious- 
 ly one can only write with inside knowledge of one's 
 own experiences, not of other men's. ..'hat first 
 made me think of embarking on this book was the habit 
 I noticed in so many men, some of them good horsemen, 
 of accepting their hunters, so to speak, as they found 
 them. 
 
 Kow often one hears a man say: "This brute 
 won't ,iump without a lead," or "won't face water," 
 or "cannot be got over any sort of a fence out of a 
 road." ow, any such faults result in a horse 
 being almost useless as a hunter. When the rider 
 was a rich man, it generally meant that he sent the 
 horse back to the dealer whence it came, and got 
 another in its place. You may be sure the dealers' 
 man soon knocked the fault out of it, whatever it 
 might be. cut if you are a poor man and become 
 owner of a horse with some such fault, you have to 
 take the place of the dealers' man, and by determined 
 and skilful riding "straighten it out" yourself. 
 
-3- 
 
 To make horses do .lust what you want, the first 
 thing to learn, besides keeping your temper - which 
 is, of course, essential - is to ride with both 
 hands on the reins. A man who can only ride over 
 fences with one hand on the reins and the other used 
 a^ a sort of balancing pole, must abandon all idea 
 of making or even improving a hunter. He may, 
 and often does, go ver77 well on the perfectly finished 
 article, but nothing else will suit him. As a lad 
 I thought George Bird - a very fine horseman, well 
 known in the Epsom district - put a horse at a fence 
 as well as any man I ever s" . He never wore spurs 
 and hardly ever carried a whip, and used a single rein 
 ring snaffle and seldom a martingale. Carrying his 
 hands low and very wide apart, it was always a pleasure 
 to see a horse .jump with him, and I have seldom seen 
 horses more perfectly balanced and presented at their 
 fences. 
 
 I know it is often said that you cannot "collect 11 
 a horse in a snaffle bridle, but in Ireland I have not 
 noticed that the horses ridden b:r horsemen (the pro- 
 portion of horsemen to riders is, I think, higher in 
 the sister Isle than with us) sprawl about or show 
 any sign of not being well held together, and the snaffle 
 is almost universal. As a rule, they are, I admit, 
 riding on lighter and sounder ground, but also, as a 
 rule, they are riding greener and less "made : ' horses. 
 If the English hunts were polled, there would be an almost 
 solid vote for the double bridle; but, if you could 
 lower the franchise and admit the horses we hunt to 
 the polling booth, I think it would be found that they 
 went equally solidly for the snaffle. There must, of 
 course, be good in a bridle that is so universally 
 popular with English hunting men as the double bridle, 
 but I would suggest that when a horse is found to be going 
 uncomfortably in it, it is well to remember there is an 
 alternative,' and that a snaffle should be given a trial. 
 
 If you want to ride all sorts of horses and make 
 them carry you to hounds, I hold that you must have^ 
 patience and good temper, with plenty of determination. 
 
_4- 
 
 Ride your horse in the mildest bit in which he will go 
 to your liking, keep your reins long, and your hands 
 wide apart. "Throw in a strong seat and good hands, 
 and there are very few horses that will not go where 
 and as you mean thern to. 
 
 A really strong seat can be acquired by any active 
 lad who gives his mind to it. Long steady trotting in 
 a saddle, without stirrups, goes a long way towards it. 
 This, however, must be persevered in, or it does not 
 strengthen and develop the riding muscles; moreover, it 
 is useless unless the rider sits properly. The grip 
 must be got entirely with thigh and knee; if the toes 
 are turned out and a grip obtained with the back of the 
 calves, the exercise is without effect, for the wrong 
 muscles are then brought into play. 
 
 Let me give two instances from my Argentine ex- 
 perience, to 'show to what perfection strength in the 
 saddle can be brought, or, rather, strength on a horse, 
 since both feats were on the bareback. The first 
 exhibited sheer strength of seat such as I have never 
 seen equalled; the second, absolute perfection of 
 balance and grip combined. 
 
 A "bagual" had been caught up, as I wished to try my 
 very 'prentice hand at breaking. low, a "bagual" has 
 never been made a pet - he will not eat sugar out of your 
 hand. ^e is at least five or six years old, and there- 
 fore strong, and he has come in contact with man but 
 twice in his life, once when lassoed and knocked over to 
 be branded, and once for another operation. The mares 
 in my day were never ridden or broken. This particular 
 "bagual"' was very violent - smashed a lasso and knocked 
 men about freely. So violent was he that I gladly fell 
 in with the suggestion that a more experienced rider 
 should mount him for the first ride. Argentine methods 
 of breaking are abrupt, and the first ride is given 
 directly the animal is caught - as soon, in fact, as a 
 piece of raw hide can be tied in its mouth as a bit and a 
 saddle got on its back. 
 
-5- 
 
 The first ride over, the "bagual" was laboriously 
 
 towed up to a tieing post, and. had just reached it, 
 when he flung himself over and broke the raw-hide 
 rope on his halter. ." big "Domador", or professional 
 horsebreaker was standing near. It was not his show, 
 and he looked graceful, but very indolent, uninterested, 
 and sleeps-'. But when this accident happened, he 
 became fully awake with rather startling and effective 
 suddenness. A horse was standing near him, bridled 
 but without a saddle. . ith a bound the man was up, 
 and the trained cattle-horse was at full speed in a 
 few strides. Before the "bagual" had really got go! 
 they were alongside; but the troop of mares and colts 
 with which the "bagual" ran had been let out of the 
 corral, and with his companions in front it seemed 
 incredible that any man could stop hi: . It was an 
 exciting moment as the?/' tore on, locked together. Then 
 the "Domador" leaned over and caught the two feet of 
 raw hide that hung from the halter. Still a u top 
 speed, tearing over rough and smooth as it came, he 
 
 e ver;- r sure of his grip, twisting the raw hide well 
 round his hand. Then came the tug of war. Lyi 
 far back, and exerting s grip o is own horse that must 
 have been that of an iron vice, he began to stop him 
 very gradually. For a few strides it seemed as if he 
 must be torn off; but his great strength prevailed, and 
 both horses stopped. The tamer (for that is the literal 
 translation of "Domador") had won, and actually proceeded 
 to tow the "bagual" back with hi . Help soon reached 
 him, and, handing over his charge, he trotted back, 
 unsmiling and indifferent, and lit a cigarette, evidently 
 considering that the incident was closed and required 
 no remark on his part. 
 
 he other case happened at shearing time. very 
 small ..ith short legs had turned up and been engaged 
 for the work. : as a stranger and unknown to the 
 other shearing hands. One day he was asked where he 
 came from and what he worked at when at home. The 
 very small man replied that he came from Corrientes 
 and was a "Domador". His questioner laughed and told 
 him his legs were too short for horse tamin After 
 that the small man had to put up with a good deal of 
 
I 
 
-6- 
 
 chaff, and was always called the "Domador". He laid 
 no further claim to the title, and the chaff did not 
 appear to worry him. But a day came when there was 
 either more of it than usual, or the little man's 
 temper was wearing thin, and he did speak. What he 
 said was: "Get any horse you like, and I will ride him 
 and show you that I am a "Domador" ' . Then he went on 
 with his work. 
 
 There was almost always on an h.stancia one perfect 
 fiend in horsehide, kept for such occasions, never ridden 
 unless some young blood wanted to give a show, or the 
 peons wished to take the conceit out of some newcomer. 
 Such a one we had in our "Big Zaino", and the little man 
 was told he could try his hand on it the following Sunday, 
 and that, if he could ride it, all chaff would cease. 
 
 Sunday came. The "big Zaino" was run up early 
 into the corral. At the hour fixed for the show the 
 shearing hands and everybody else on the place trooped 
 down there. The little man walked down too, but he did not 
 carry with him his recado (saddle) or bridle. Men 
 wondered, and feared that he was going to cry off, and 
 that they would miss their show; but his expression was 
 not the expression of a man who intended to shirk. 
 
 ■alking into the corral, he asked a peon to lasso 
 the "big Zaino" and to drag it up near the slip rails. 
 Then he asked some bystanders to slip the rails out, 
 walked up to the horse, vaulted on, and told the peon to 
 free him. No doubt the horse thought he saw his way 
 to one of the easiest of his long roll of victories, 
 and with one rocketing bound was through the opening. 
 That, to his surprise, did not displace the little rider, 
 and he went on his way, bucking like the perfect devil 
 he was ; still the little man sat there. Now our 
 champion bucker felt he must do his very best. ith 
 a free unbridled head and unencumbered by saddle, he had 
 all points in his favour; yet the easy victory had not 
 come. Yet he had in reserve further devilments; he 
 
-7- 
 
 began to lose ground as he bucked - rather to buck 
 backwards, as it were. (I may say that, as long as 
 a bucker travels forwards, he is a little easier to 
 sit). Then as he bucked he twisted and turned, tied 
 and untied himself in all his best knots, doing full 
 and complete .iustice to his very evil reputation. 
 Still the little man sat on - not only sat on, but 
 dealt him at intervals shrewd blows with his raw-hide 
 whip. Then the climax came, for the little man leant 
 right forward and smacked the sweating neck with both 
 his hands. Prom those who knew best a little gasp of 
 admiration went up. With that the little man seemed 
 to think that he had made good, and soon after, swinging 
 his right leg over the neck, landed, lightly on his feet, 
 leaving the "big Zaino" to clear out to his own troop 
 and to ponder over what kind of adhesive plaster shaped 
 like unto a man he bad come in cont ct with! If, as 
 he strolled back to the corral, there was a slight 
 suggestion of swagger in his walk, who can blame the 
 little man? It was a fine feat of horsemanship, and 
 he had made good. he was actually given a cheer - a 
 very, very "are exhibition of feeling with the peons - 
 and was chaffed no more. 
 
 To those who have not ridden buck- jumping horses 
 I may explain that to lean forward and remain, when 
 a horse is bucking badly, is a terribly difficult 
 feat even in stirrups. ho write have In my time 
 leant forward several times (on my part, I may remark, 
 an entirely involuntary movementTT anc ^ the next moment 
 found myself no longer riding, but flying. I never 
 liked the change; the flight was comparatively short, 
 and the ground very hard when : r ou hit It. 
 
 Those peons of Entre Rios have left with me a very 
 kindly recollection. I liked their keen but immovable 
 Indo-Spanish faces, liked their easy grace and superb 
 horsemanship. It is true they had their faults - their 
 big knives and their quick tempers - and I admit those 
 Englishmen who knew them best were the most careful (I 
 talk of the early 'eighties) never to take off their 
 revolvers. Still, they were brave men and they could 
 ride. 
 
CHAPTER II . 
 
 We, too, sprung from the loins of the Ishmaelite 
 
 stallions, 
 
 We glory in daring that dies or prevails, 
 From the counter of squadrons and crash of battalions 
 
 To rending of blackthorns and rattle of rails. 
 
 LI EDS AY GORDON. 
 
 I once heard a cabman close a discussion he had 
 been engaged in, with a slightly intoxicated confrere , 
 with the remark: "You better get a jug that fits 
 you; the one you are wearing is too big." 
 
 So I would say to a novice: "Get a horse that 
 fits you, fits you in every way, and suits the country 
 you are going to hunt in." This, of course, is easy 
 enough if you can afford to go to one of the big 
 dealers, pay him his price, and with his help select 
 just what you want. Under such happy circumstances, 
 if the horse does not prove to your liking, you can 
 generally arrange to exchange it for another. That 
 makes things easy for the fairly wealthy man, and 
 for him many of the hints in this little book are 
 of no value. But if you have to pick up a cheap 
 hunter where you can, and make the best of it, it is 
 quite another matter. Don't, if you can avoid it, 
 buy a bigger horse than you actually need, first, 
 because little good ones are more easily found than 
 big good ones, and, secondly, because a man never 
 really goes as well on a horse that is too big for 
 him as on one that fits him. 
 
 I don't altogether believe in the "two stone 
 in hand" theory. If you take a big horse and a 
 little sharp horse, and gallop them at an even 
 11 stone 7 lbs., or 12 stone, over a few miles of 
 country, the little one is quite likely to win. 
 
-9- 
 
 Of course, big men • have big horses, but I 
 never could see what small men gain by having tl 
 To come back to the start, get a horse that fits 
 
 you. 
 
 In picking up a cheap hunter, don't listen 
 to all 7/0U hear about him. He must have some 
 drawbacks or he would not be cheap, but there is 
 a great deal of nonsense talked about horses. 
 At the most, consult one friend whose judgment 
 you value and make up your own mind. 
 
 orses go in all shapes, but I would like 
 rather to insist on shoulders and, if possible, 
 on quality^ The very common one are rarely 
 satisfactory, but I fear the heavy-weight with 
 a light pocket will find that weight carriers 
 with quality are very hard to come by. As 
 regards shoulders, I am inclined to think that 
 very few men are really good judges of them. 
 Yet I have seldom met a hunting man who was 
 not convinced that he could tell the working 
 merits of a shoulder at a glance. With my 
 own horses I have noticed that those shoulders 
 which many men picked out as being unexceptional 
 were by no means those which I found the most 
 perfect in action. :oulders can, of course, 
 be judged best when you are in the saddle. 
 
 If you get a chance to ride a horse before 
 buying it, take him on to a pathway which is 
 a little above the roadway, walk him along it 
 with a loose rein, and let him step back into 
 the road. If he does it without any jar, 
 you may be sure he can use his shoulders. 
 Unless a policeman happens to take your name 
 for riding on the footpath, it is best to do 
 this several times before making quite sure. 
 I can't say I was ever troubled by the police, 
 but then most of my buying has been done in 
 Ireland. 
 
 "Pullers" are best avoided, really hard 
 pullers, especially in these sad days of wire. 
 They must anywhere add to the difficulty of 
 
-10- 
 
 riding to hounds. Take a case, for Instance, when 
 you are tearing along beside a thick, impregnable 
 fence, with hounds running hard on the other side of 
 it, and apparently bending from you. Suddenly you 
 come on a hole through which you can pop. With a 
 handy horse you can pull up short and jump into the 
 same field as the hounds, but with a puller it is 
 different. You have to estimate how long it will 
 take to stop him, and whether it will be better to 
 hold straight on and chance the swing of hounds away 
 from you not being serious, or to set to work to 
 stop and turn your over-resolute horse. Quickness 
 is a great asset in riding to hounds, and that is why 
 I insist on the handy horse that fits you. 
 
 I have seen a few men go marvellously well on 
 pullers, and Custance, in his book of "Riding Re- 
 collections," tells of Captain Trotter coming out 
 with the Quorn on a horse on which he had the most 
 powerful tackle that could be invented. Yet the 
 horse galloped straight through a strong flight of 
 rails, straight through the pack, and ran away for 
 two miles. He goes on to tell how Captain Trotter 
 brought the horse back and finished his day on him. 
 He bought him that evening for a small sum, and even- 
 tually made him into a very good hunter and sold him 
 for a large one. 
 
 But then we are not all Jock Trotters. Probab- 
 ly no better or more powerful horseman ever got into 
 a hunting saddle. Whatever horse found itself be- 
 tween his legs became a hunter. I saw him once on 
 the first of October, in one of the latest seasons 
 I have ever known, take on a very strong section of 
 the Pytchley country, riding a horse that knew very 
 little, anyway, when Trotter started on him that 
 morning. The country, except that the going was 
 soft, was in exactly the same condition it had been 
 all summer, and when I add that he was then far from 
 young, the reader can judge what manner of man Jock 
 Trotter was. My advice is, leave those sort of pul- 
 lers to such men, and there are not many of them. 
 A moderate puller, if not old, can very often, by 
 mild bitting and careful handling, be entirely cured. 
 A great many men, of course, are not happy unless 
 their horse takes hold to a certain extent. I don't 
 
-11- 
 
 like it myself, and, by using mild bits and riding 
 with long reins, I always tried to cure a horse of 
 taking hold, and, as I rarely bought anything but 
 young horses, generally succeeded. 
 
 To ensure a horse going kindly and pleasantly, 
 riding with long reins is a great secret, and a 
 secret I for one found most difficult to learn. 
 It is so easy in theory to keep them long, and so 
 hard in practice when a horse is "at" you. Dick 
 Christian knew what he was talking about when he 
 said: "Always give them plenty of rope." If you 
 are going to pick up moderate horses cheap and 
 turn them into good ones, you must learn to do that. 
 
 A buyer of cheap ones must make up his mind 
 quickly, for a seller, once he has determined to 
 cut a loss and get rid of a horse, generally loses 
 no time over the operation. If you find, in a 
 quick, cheap deal, that you have got hold of a 
 really unsound one, sell him again at once. If 
 you don't waste money on his keep, but get rid of 
 him, you can't lose much. You have bought cheap, 
 and will always get a few pounds back at auction. 
 If you have a farm, or other means of keeping 
 your crock quite cheaply, that alters the case a 
 little, but I always made it my rule to get quit./ 
 
 I remember once, though, being saved by luck 
 from making a bad mistake in this way with a little 
 mare I owned called Peace. She went constantly 
 lame, and the vet. said he thought it was in the 
 feet. I had just had her run out, one frosty 
 morning, when I was in no sweet temper or optimis- 
 tic mood, and found her lame again. A friend 
 who did a little horse-dealing happened to look 
 in, and I said: "There you are - twenty-five 
 pounds, and she is yours". He did not take her, 
 and that very day my man Grant located the real 
 trouble - a tiny splint under the knee. I hun- 
 ted her straight on, and she never missed her 
 turn again, and proved one of the soundest and 
 best. When I got ill and had to sell my horses, 
 she made a hundred and sixty guineas at auction. 
 I think I am right in saying that Baroness Burton, 
 who bought her, and with whom she made a great 
 
-12- 
 
 name, refused double that sura from a dealer. 
 
 That was a chance. to pick up a cheap one, but 
 the buyer would have had to be quick, and if he had 
 come back in half an hour, I don't suppose I should 
 have been on. However, there does not appear to 
 be any other moral in the tale, for I do not recom- 
 mend anyone to buy unsound ones. It is difficult 
 enough to keep the sound ones fit if sport is good 
 and you are shoving them along. 
 
 One thing I would Impress on a lad: don't be 
 afraid of buying a horse because he goes badly 
 with another man whom you consider a superior rider 
 to yourself. He may have a groom that upsets it; 
 he may have too many horses, and this one may not 
 get enough work to steady it. He may once, through 
 his own fault, have got wrong with the horse, and 
 horses never forget. You may, too, be better than 
 you think, and the other man may be beginning to 
 feel the loss of nerve, though still a secret between 
 himself and that particular horse in whom he has 
 lost confidence. And, above all, remember that a 
 horse may go badly with one man and well with another, 
 quite independently of their merits as horsemen. 
 I know one very peculiar case bearing in a manner 
 on this. The horse had been a good one, but gradu- 
 ally got the better of his owner, and he lent it 
 to different people to see what they could make of 
 it. With one man he .lumped well, but pulled ter- 
 ribly hard - in fact, f airly took charge and ran 
 away. With a lady he did not pull an ounce, but 
 refused every fence she put him at; and with an- 
 other man he neither palled nor refused, but never 
 rose properly, got about half-way up a fence, and 
 proved a most dangerous ride. 
 
 Now, the first man was a most consummate horse- 
 man, and had in perfection the art of giving them 
 rope. The lady was a very good rider, for whom 
 horses generally went well. The other man certainly 
 had the knack of making his horses jump. I don't 
 know what became of the horse, but it is quite pos- 
 sible if he found an owner to suit him, that he 
 v/ould again become a good hunter. 
 
-13- 
 
 Another case I came across in Ireland. I was 
 put on the horse with the idea of seeing how he 
 would go with me. Nothing was said about his pul- 
 ling proclivities; he was a most perfect type of 
 fourteen stone hunter, full of quality, and his 
 manners were apparently good. Yet some instinct 
 warned me that, once set going, he would prove a 
 real handful. Fortunately, on coming away with 
 their first fox, hounds ran along some very deep 
 meadows beside a road. Nobody went into them, 
 except the servants, who, coming out of cover with 
 hounds, could not avoid doing so. 
 
 This, I thought, is a chance to prove if my 
 instinct is right or not. So I turned my horse, 
 and he bounded out of the lane, cleverly but with 
 extraordinary resolution. Then he got going in 
 earnest, and I soon knew I had gauged him correct- 
 ly. At the third fence we had closed up, and a 
 whipper-in was in front of me; It seemed certain 
 he would be well into the next field before I 
 reached the fence, but, as a precaution, I took 
 a strong steadier at my horse. The only result 
 of the attempted steadier was a rush which one 
 might call terrific and which took me right on 
 to the whipper-in. I caught his horse on the 
 quarter and sent that careful animal flying off 
 the top of the bank at a pace he had not contem- 
 plated. Luckily no actual harm was done, and 
 neither of us fell. Soon afterwards we checked, 
 and I managed to pull up. The owner of my free- 
 going mount showed no anxiety to change, but I 
 was quite firm, and threatened to let the horse 
 go and walk home if he did not. So he reluctant- 
 ly climbed on to the resolute one, and in due 
 course disappeared into space, while I enjoyed 
 an excellent hunt on his horse. 
 
 Now, the curious thing about that horse was 
 that many first-class men tried to ride him, in- 
 cluding steeplechase jockeys who did not mind at 
 what pace he did his walls and banks, yet no one 
 succeeded, except one inexperienced lad, for whom 
 he went delightfully. The lad, unfortunately, 
 could not buy him. The result was, a horse up 
 
-14- 
 
 to weight and full of quality, that if rideable was 
 worth big money, went, such was his evil reputation, 
 for a few pounds to drag out his life in a side-car. 
 
 I would suggest, if you can only buy a cheap 
 one, don't be afraid of taking a risk. It is much 
 better to buy a horse worth good money, with some 
 fault or vice, at a cheap price than to buy a com- 
 mon slow horse that has no particular "crab," yet 
 who will never really satisfy you. You ma?/- straight- 
 en out the former, but you can never alter Nature's 
 handiwork in the latter. 
 
 To the man who has to pick up cheap horses I 
 would say: Carefully study make and shape (there 
 are many excellent books on that subject, which 
 greatly help), but avoid all fads, and do not ex- 
 pect to buy a cheap one without some faults. If 
 you do, it will probably mean you have got hold of 
 an unenterprising brute without faults or merits. 
 In forming our opinion of a horse, we unluckily can- 
 not see the most vital point of all - the heart. 
 If only we could really tell by looking at them what 
 horses are stout-hearted "stayers," what a comfort 
 it would be I But all we can do is to look for good 
 girth and room for heart and lungs. 
 
 I have read somewhere that John Scott, "The 
 Wizard of the North," said of legs, "the best-look- 
 ing go first." I don't know that I would go as far 
 as that as regards hunters' legs, but I must say I 
 am never afraid of legs that fill, and have many a 
 time proved them to last well. 
 
 For a light weight who wants to hunt cheaplv. 
 and has no ambition to make his own hunters er ta- 
 lent for "straightening out" queer-tempered horse , 
 1 would without hesitation recommend cobs or ponies. 
 The small ones can nearly always be bought cheaply, 
 for dealers don't want them. Then, again, they 
 require less skilled stable management, are cheaper 
 to feed when in work, and cheaper to summer, for 
 they are much more hardy. I often think that un- 
 less we go back to pony blood for our hunters, we 
 shall get them too highly bred and delicate, but 
 that is another matter. A light weight on a really 
 
-15- 
 
 brilliant cob or pony can go anywhere a horse can 
 go, and often where he cannot. 
 
 I remember some years ago a grey polo ponj , 
 ridden by a lady in the Grafton country. It is 
 not a country I should pick out as most suitable 
 to a pony, yet that little grey jumped it to per- 
 fection. Early or late in the day, wherever that 
 lady's pilot went, the grey went. The pilot, I 
 may add, was a very hard-riding husband mounted 
 on big and also very good hunters. 
 
 I have often heard it objected that a cob makes 
 the fences look big, but, as long as they are jumped 
 safely and well, I never could see that it mattered 
 what they looked like. And if you do get a fall, 
 it is much pleasanter - or, at least, less unpleas- 
 ant - to have a light little one on you than a heavy 
 big one. I have owned several really brilliant lit- 
 tle ones, and seen sport well in many different coun- 
 tries on them. One of the best I bought in an odd 
 way. I rode her with hounds one day in Ireland. 
 She was so wild I thought she would never do for hunt- 
 ing. Whether it was to practise her jumping or to 
 try to jump me off I know not, but she insisted on 
 taking wild bounds into the air, so violent and sud- 
 den that I could not stop her. One of her jumps 
 took her more or less over another horse's quarters, 
 and I heard the rider remark to a friend: "He had 
 me lepped entirely, and he changed on my head." 
 However, he received my apologies most kindly. 
 They are more forbearing towards young horses in 
 Ireland than in England; there I might have been 
 told that if I could not ride my horse I had better 
 take it home. I decided not to buy her, as I thought 
 that when full of good oats she would be unrideable. 
 Later I was told she was perfectly quiet in harness, 
 and as I wanted a trapper and she had the merit of 
 being cheap, I bought her. She was fairly right in 
 harness, and I used to drive my mother in a very low 
 pony phaeton with her, as it was the only kind of 
 trap my mother could then get into, and to the last 
 she had iron nerves. The mare, if checked or kept 
 standing, did rather twist and turn the long phae ton 
 about, until there was some excuse for a friend's 
 remark that "she looked like an eel on a night-line"; 
 
-16- 
 
 but she never "threw a lep" when in it but once, and 
 then I was luckily alone, just coming out of the 
 stable-yard. She knocked a bird-cage off the wall 
 at such a height that I resolved there and then that 
 so much talent for jumping must be turned to some ac- 
 count. I gave her a little training and took her to 
 Hurlingham, where she won the jumping prize, and at 
 Ranelagh, too, she jumped perfectly, only just touch- 
 ing the water with a hind foot, and being a very good 
 second. I never tried her again in the show ring, 
 but I have no doubt that with careful training she 
 might have won many prizes. 
 
 When the winter came, I felt I must try my trap- 
 per as a hunter, but I hardly knew what the result 
 would be. However, in two or three days she came 
 perfectly to hand, and a more brilliant little hunter 
 I never owned. I saw many a good hunt on her with 
 the Pytchley, Grafton, and Meynell. She was what 
 they call in Ireland a "polo," but whether she could 
 ever have been measured I know not. But many a 
 good, cheap little hunter could be picked up under 
 that heading in the Emerald Isle. It was especially 
 easy to buy them if the sellers thought in their 
 hearts that they would never really measure for the 
 game. Nearly all Irish ponies and cobs seem to be 
 born jumpers and to need very little schooling. I 
 remember a young Irish friend of mine coming out 
 hunting a few years ago on an Irish polo pony. He 
 assured me it had never in its life been schooled 
 or jumped over a fence. I have been in Ireland 
 several times, and do not accept without hesitation 
 all that an Irishman tells me about a horse or pony, 
 but certainly in the morning that particular pony 
 did not appear to know anything, yet he improved at 
 every fence. We had a sharp little gallop late, 
 when it fenced very well indeed. I need hardly add 
 that my young friend was a consummate horseman, as 
 so many of his countrymen are. 
 
 In the next chapter I will tell, for the encour- 
 agement of hard-up youth, of two cheap hunters I 
 owned in years gone by. That they were cheap can- 
 not be denied, as their total cost was ten pounds, 
 and in telling of them I honestly think, with the 
 help of my diary, I have kept strictly to facts, and 
 have not allowed memory to exaggerate their merits 
 or failings. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 'Twas merry in the glowing morn, among the gleaming 
 
 grass, 
 To wander as we've wandered many a mile, 
 And blow the cool tobacco cloud and watch the white 
 
 wreaths pass, 
 Sitting loosely in the saddle all the while. 
 
 LINDSAY GORDON. 
 
 I had just returned from the Argentine, where I 
 had fairly lived in the saddle, parting cattle, train- 
 ing horses, riding races, and playing polo, so I was in 
 good riding trim, and keen to get a hunter; but owing 
 to the state of my finances paying for one was a 
 difficulty. 
 
 One day, having to go into a house-agent's yard at 
 Epsom, though not the sort of place one expects to find 
 a horse, I saw a chestnut cob. I asked the man about 
 it, who told me he had seized it for debt, and expected 
 soon to get leave from the Court to sell it. I made 
 a few more inquiries, and was almost certain it was the 
 same cob of which John Jones, who then trained the 
 Prince of Wales's chasers, had spoken, telling me it 
 was a "rum 'un" to ride, but a great jumper. A few 
 days after that the house-agent led it up to my house 
 and asked me to buy it. I said I must have a ride 
 first, and got a saddle. As soon as I got near her 
 the cob gave a squeal and went for me. The owner was 
 terrified, but luckily there was a gardener on the 
 premises who had been a groom, and between us we got on 
 a saddle, and at last, seizing my chance, I got up. 
 She was not really bad to sit — in fact, squealing was 
 her forte — but there was a short and very steep 
 avenue down from the house, and on that she fairly let 
 herself go, and kicked her best, ending up by giving 
 the gate-post one resounding bang that left a mark which 
 
-18- 
 
 I saw was still there years after I had left the house. 
 She soon settled down, and I rode her over a few fences 
 and took her back. I bid the man ten pounds, which he 
 refused with scorn, so I told him to take her away. 
 Now, she had either made up her mind to stay with me, 
 or there was something about the house-agent she did 
 not like. Whenever he went towards her she screamed 
 and he jumped; if he did not jump quickly enough, she 
 swung round and lashed out at him. It was a very funny 
 scene, and I really think the cob had a sense of humour 
 and enjoyed it. 
 
 I have had many a horse trade since that morning, 
 but never have I had a seller so completely at a dis- 
 advantage; in fact, I always felt I owed the cob some- 
 thing for the assistance she gave me in the deal. 
 As he could not take her away, he took my tenner and 
 the cob was mine. 
 
 It required a little self-confidence to buy her, 
 but it nearly always requires that to pick up a cheap 
 one of any sort. She was not a difficult mare to sit, 
 and never' really tried hard to get you off, seldom 
 bucked and had no nasty tricks, such as trying to scrape 
 her rider off against a wall. But she just kicked, and 
 kicked from habit; it was tiring, I allow, but nothing 
 else. She even gave that up to some extent. 
 
 I remember well the first day I rode her out hunting, 
 It was with staghounds, and while we were waiting for 
 the pack to be laid on, and she was just kicking a little 
 to pass the time away, H. Ripley rode up and looked at 
 her hard. He was at that time very well known between 
 the flags, and one of the hardest men to hounds I have 
 ever seen. After a long look he remarked to me: "So 
 you have got that little mare. I owned her once. 
 Take my advice and kill her before she kills you." I 
 was really glad that hounds came up just then and pre- 
 vented further conversation. She went well that day 
 and every other. I have owned many a high-class 
 brilliant hunter since, but not a great many better 
 ones, and certainly never a sounder one. She was very 
 good-looking, with a perfect forehand, and had quite a 
 nice turn of speed. 
 
-19- 
 
 She proved a most valuable riding master to me 
 for this reason: she was always a little shifty, yet 
 if ridden strongly, quietly, and carefully at a fence, 
 she seldom or never refused. The least carelessness 
 she noticed and took advantage of. On the other hand, 
 If you made any extra effort to rouse her with hands, 
 whip, or legs, you only aroused her suspicion that there 
 was something extra nasty to jump, and she refused. 
 She had been grossly overfaced and forced into impossible 
 fences. 
 
 Now, I hold that learning to put a horse strongly 
 and quietly at a fence is a very important matter, and 
 that she taught me. A horse should be made to feel 
 with hands and knees that he cannot "cut it," but should 
 never be bustled or excited. 
 
 I never rode her in the Midlands, but, besides 
 riding her with foxhounds in Surrey, I rode her with 
 the Epsom Drag, with staghounds, and the Windsor Drag 
 when it came our side. There was plenty of competition, 
 and we managed to hold our own. I remember once being 
 rather proud of her. I was returning after a ride with 
 the drag, in company with some jockeys, and they began 
 trying to ride over a seat. it was not high, but nar- 
 row, and of course there was nothing to keep a horse 
 from running out. She was the only one that did it. 
 I was down, with her on me, several' times, and once I 
 was pulled, at a thick place, clean over her quarters, 
 and although I fell against her heels, she never touched 
 me. 
 
 After a time I bought a stable companion for her, 
 another ten-pounder, a little thoroughbred mare, with 
 rather straight shoulders and a sad lack of brains. 
 She, however, gave me much instruction in the art of 
 falling, and one must not expect too much for ten 
 pounds. I only mention her because I thought the cob's 
 temper rather improved after her arrival. I always 
 hold that loneliness must be bad for horses, who are the 
 most sociable of animals. If a horse is turned out in 
 a field by himself he hates it; if there are any horses 
 grazing within sight he will spend nearly all his time 
 looking at them from the nearest point he can reach, 
 because he feels lonely. 
 
■20- 
 
 Note, too, how worried many a horse geta when his 
 stable companion goes out; he watches for its return, 
 and will, on recognising its step at an incredible 
 distance, begin to call to it, settling down at once 
 on its return. It may be argued that such worrying 
 is bad for a horse, but I would reply that it is quickly 
 over (all outward signs of it passing off if the com- 
 panion is out for any time), while the pleasure at the 
 return is so evident as to emphasise the craving which 
 all horses appear to have for companionship. 
 
 In the Argentine I have often come in from a 
 journey or long day's work with cattle on a horse that 
 was really beat and hungry. Stable management was 
 simple. All that one did was to scrape the saddle 
 sweat with the back of one's big knife and turn loose; 
 but no matter how tired the horse was, he would trot 
 about the home "potrero" until he found his companions, 
 and never settled down to rest or feed until he had 
 done so. Yet men building or altering stables often 
 go to considerable extra expense to doom their horses to 
 loneliness. Solitary confinement is the most terrible 
 punishment that can be inflicted on man, and I greatly 
 fear that horses, although they cannot tell us so, 
 suffer but little less. I think it tends to make the 
 bad-tempered horse worse, and the nervous one more ner- 
 vous. 
 
 But to return to the cob. I hunted her for some 
 seasons, and she was always fit; but she remained 
 vicious in the stable, and very difficult to shoe or 
 clip. Eventually I gave her to a friend to breed from, 
 and after two peaceful years she gave her last squeal 
 and died to feed foxhounds. She never had a foal — 
 maybe just as well with such a temper — but her make 
 and shape made it, I thought, worth risking. 
 
 The moral of the cob seems to me: Never be afraid 
 of risking a cheap one because you think you may not be 
 able to ride it; and, as a second moral, by riding all 
 sorts you educate yourself and improve your horsemanship, 
 
 The next interesting mare I owned was Friendship. 
 That was in 1894, and I had acquired a good deal of ex- 
 perience in the intervening years. Now, the cob's 
 
-21- 
 
 temper was, I think, the result to a great extent of 
 teasing and bullying; Friendship's was horn with her. 
 The cob taught me a great deal; Friendship received 
 her entire education from me. 
 
 I first saw her as an unnamed three-year-old in 
 Essex (she was bred in Ireland). she came up in the 
 most gentle and friendly way (she always had a kind and 
 confiding eye), and after letting me rub her nose, sud- 
 denly whipped round and lashed out. When she was four, 
 my Essex friend, for whom. I rode many young ones, wrote 
 and said they had begun to break her, but found her so 
 vicious that unless I cared to take her he would have 
 her shot. I consulted my stout-hearted groom, Peter 
 Grant, who seemed quite ready to take her on, so I sent 
 for her. 
 
 I may say here that from first to last she remained 
 incurably vicious in the stable. no one could "do" her 
 but Grant, and, although she got very fond of him, she 
 broke his ribs at least once. Breaking her was not all 
 plain sailing, but she came to hand in time. She had 
 a perfect mouth and lovely paces, so she took very little 
 out of me, and luckily she never put me off, although 
 she tried very, very hard, and gave me many a rough seat. 
 This gave me confidence in the battles that were to come 
 out hunting, and helped to defeat her. My first refer- 
 ence to her in my hunting diary is in October 1894, 
 when, after telling of the doings of the Meynell hounds, 
 with whom I was hunting, I add: "Rode Friendship, who 
 went as badly as a horse can go." So it went on; some 
 days she would go fairly well, but more often she did 
 nothing but refuse, buck, and kick. At last things 
 came to a head. I had pretty well made up my mind to 
 give her up and send her for hounds to eat, and care- 
 lessly rode her at a very small fence close to a gate 
 people were going through. She refused, and I went 
 through the gate. I should not have done this unless 
 I had despaired of her, for riding at a fence so placed 
 is wrong, and letting off a refuser is worse, and I was 
 soon to have a practical lesson in the harm I had done. 
 We were striding nicely along in the very next field. 
 She was fresh and untired, the going was sound and horses 
 were galloping beside her. Suddenly she shut off steam 
 and stopped dead. I spurred her and she retaliated by 
 
-22- 
 
 trying to get hold of my feet with her teeth. Now, 
 I can keep my temper with a young one, but when it does 
 go, it goes pretty completely. I just let her stand 
 still for a minute, and we were soon alone, as no strag- 
 glers or second horsemen were coming that way. "Now, 
 my lass," I said, "we will fight this to a finish." 
 Then, letting her head go more or less (I knew she could 
 not buck me off), I devoted all my strength to punish- 
 ment. At it we went, she bucking and kicking, I let- 
 ting her have it with whip and spur. I don't know how 
 long it took, but she tired at last and accepted her 
 defeat. Then we went on and soon found hounds. For 
 the rest of the day she never turned her head again, 
 and from that day onwards she began slowly and steadily 
 to improve. Even when she did refuse, she refused 
 without her old determination. When I left the Meynell 
 that winter I sent her to Leicester with my other 
 horses. They sold well enough, but there was no bid 
 for Friendship, only, as she was run up, a decided move- 
 ment to the rear, "according to plan," of onlookers and 
 buyers, for she had established quite a reputation in 
 the yard by kicking anyone who wanted to look her over 
 out of her box. So I had to keep her, and I am very 
 glad I did. She kept on improving, and carried me very 
 well in the Grafton country, which is by no means an 
 easy one to cross. I recollect one day when they were 
 on their woodland side, and few were out, seeing a very 
 good hunt on her in which she gave me great satisfaction, 
 It was rather foggy — a day on which it was necessary 
 to cling closely to hounds if one was to see them at all, 
 Just as they were settling to run really hard, we came 
 on one of those high hairy bullfinches so common in the 
 Grafton country. For a moment it seemed impregnable; 
 then I spotted a place I thought might do. My ex- 
 refuser went for it like a lion, and after a struggle 
 we emerged somehow in the next field without an actual 
 fall. I was just in time to catch a glimpse of the 
 flying pack, the great dog hounds looking as big as 
 bullocks in the mist. We made a six-mile point, the 
 latter part of it as straight as a Roman road, and 
 hounds ran so fast that, unless my mare had bored that 
 hole, nobody would have seen the way they went. It is 
 surely worth while, let me remark in passing, to keep a 
 little extra in hand for such emergencies. If horses 
 are often shoved into such fences when not actually 
 
-23- 
 
 necessary, they will take to refusing. Alas! youth 
 does not always know when it is or is not necessary, 
 and old ones who have learnt the lesson have lost their 
 dash — the glorious dash and go of youth! 
 
 I often think of Friendship when I hear it laid 
 down that no horse is ever vicious unless made so by 
 man. But I never contradict, for it is an admirable 
 sentiment, and true in ninety cases or more out of a 
 hundred. But as far as Friendship was concerned, if 
 Grant erred at all in his management of her, he was too 
 good and kind to her. 
 
 I consider Friendship a good example of what per- 
 severance can do, for in her second season she was a 
 fair hunter and steadily improved. By some strange 
 chance I have kept two old letters which go to prove 
 how good she became. As a nine-year-old she developed 
 an unsoundness, and I sent her over to the Grafton 
 kennels to be shot. I was away at the time, and Tom 
 Bishop, then hunting the Grafton, was very anxious to 
 keep her to breed from, against my advice". I have a 
 letter from Major Wiseman, of Eastcote, saying he would 
 give the use of his horse Delandre, adding': "Bishop 
 says she is one of the best he ever saw out hunting." 
 So I gave her to Bishop, and have his letter thanking 
 me and speaking of her in the same way. 
 
 The moral to be derived from Friendship is, I think, 
 when dealing with a bad one, stop and have it out; never 
 mind the hunt for once, but fight to a finish. Avoid 
 disagreement and punishment as you would avoid poison; 
 but if it must come to a fight, then let it be a fight 
 to a finish"^ and if you do not come out a winner, don't 
 go on with the horse. 
 
 ■ooOoo- 
 
CHAPTER IV . 
 
 Brave son of Belzoni, be true to your breeding, 
 Sustain old traditions, remember jour sires. 
 
 EGERTON WARBURTON. 
 
 It is generally admitted that it is difficult 
 to find men who can ride four-year-olds to hounds 
 really well and carefully, men who can turn the raw 
 material, a four-year-old, into the finished article, 
 a hunter with manners . 
 
 That being so, considering the number of riding 
 men who try, we may fairly argue that it is not a 
 perfectly easy process, and I think I may be able to 
 give a few hints which to a novice in hunter-making 
 will be useful 
 
 There is no manner of doubt that a lad who 
 wants to ride four-year-olds in the making, and ride 
 them well, must have good nerves, a strong seat and 
 fine bands. Anyone who is reckless and excitable is 
 almost sure to fail, for he will get his four-year- 
 old into difficulties and lose its confidence/ Here 
 we have the cause of a great, if not the greatest, 
 trouble in finding good riders of four-year-olds; 
 it is so hard to find a man with iron nerves who is 
 free from a tendency to recklessness. 
 
 However, if a lad has not good nerves he will 
 not enjoy riding young ones, and if it is not more 
 or less a joy to him, he will never do much good at 
 it. Bad or indifferent nerves very quickly react 
 on the young horse; some small thing frightens him, 
 a wild bound across the road is the result. If that 
 startles the rider, the pupil is conscious of it at 
 once, and it makes him more nervous; but if the rider 
 sits still and is quite unperturbed, the youngster 
 
-25- 
 
 soon settles. I always used to jeer at them and tell 
 them not to be Idiots, for I am a firm believer in the 
 power of the human voice, and think that a horse very 
 soon knows every change of tone. Most people know 
 the story of the great Assheton Smith lending a good 
 hunter to a friend, and to his disgust seeing the horse 
 being pulled up as they approached some tall timber. 
 One shout from the voice he knew sent the horse bound- 
 ing over, in total disregard of his nervous rider's 
 wishes. 
 
 "The Druid", too, in "Scott and Sebright", is very 
 interesting on this point. "It is a pretty general 
 opinion", he writes, "among trainers that horses can- 
 not tell one person from another except by the voice, 
 and that in this respect they are like fairy 'Fine 
 Ear'. Ellerdale, for instance, took no notice of Tom 
 Dawson when he went to see her at Admiral Harcourt's 
 some four or five years after she had left his stable; 
 but the moment he said "Coachman", she wheeled round 
 and struck at him quite viciously. Mentor was quite 
 as odd this way, and he proved pretty well that the 
 dislike arises from the association of the voice with 
 the orders at exercise". The paragraph closes with 
 the remark: "Meretrix became so fidgety from hearing 
 Pobert's voice at exercise that he was obliged to employ 
 a code of stick and hand signals to the boy . 
 
 I used the voice a great deal, and often^sung or 
 whistled to a young one when he was in an irritable or 
 nervous state. It seems to soothe them, and reminds 
 me of a story against myself, which would go to prove 
 that horses are not severe critics where the voice is 
 concerned. I was riding home with a friend after a 
 big hunt with the Devon and Somerset staghounds. We 
 had a twenty-mile ride, and his horse was very beat, 
 and we had to go slowly. Conversation had run down 
 and I asked him, to pass the time away, if he would 
 like a song or a recitation. He rashly chose a song, 
 and although almost as soon as I began he hurriedly 
 said he had changed his mind and would like a recitation, 
 I carried on and finished my song. After a silence 
 my companion in a thoughtful and worried tone remarked 
 that he feared his horse was more beat than he had 
 imagined. I foolishly asked him why? 'Well , he said, 
 
-26- 
 
 "he mast be terribly beat, for he made only a faint 
 effort to trot on and get away from your song". 
 But this does not affect my argument as to the voice 
 being of great use in training young horses, and only 
 goes to prove that they accept the voice as they find 
 it, and are not critical as to its timbre . 
 
 I well remember a far from pleasant Irish expe- 
 rience of mine bearing on the power of the voice. 
 I was riding a farmer's horse that my host in County 
 Limerick had borrowed for me. .'e did little in the 
 morning, and although he seemed rather "reluctant" 
 and sticky, I got him to jump the banks fairly well. 
 Late in the day we found in a nice hill gorse and ran 
 sharply along the hillside. The walls were tall and 
 my mount refused persistently. I got him over three, 
 but only after repeated refusals at each. By the time 
 I reached the fourth wall the hunt had entirely vanish- 
 ed, for there were very few left out and the light was 
 not good - "low visibility", as we should say now. 
 The fourth wall was the tallest of any, and I abandoned 
 the contest and made for a road, a sadder but not wiser 
 man, for I felt certain the fault lay with me, although 
 I could not tell where my horsemanship had failed. 
 The owner's explanation was, if my memory serves me, 
 as follows: "Sure, your honour, there is not a bigger 
 lepped horse in Limerick, but if you meet a big wall 
 you must let a shout out at him as you come in under 
 it". With my belief in the power of the voice, I 
 was quite ready to accept the explanation and leave it 
 at that, but not so the owner. He was determined to 
 bring home to me that properly ridden, or, rather, pro- 
 perly shouted at, his horse could .lump. The next day 
 I hunted, he brought him out, and where I went he went. 
 Just as I put my horse at a fence, with a yell that 
 only an Irishman could achieve, he rushed past me and 
 generally lumped the exact spot I was aiming at. 
 It was an annoying experience, not lessened by seeing 
 the horse lumping exceedingly well for another man. 
 I tried flattery and I tried expostulation, but with- 
 out effect. He had come out to show me how his horse 
 could jump, and he carried out his plan. 
 
 So I say, don't be afraid of using your voice; it 
 may often prove of great value. I have heard it said 
 
that when a man shouts at his horse, it shows his 
 nerves are bad. But that's only fool talk; do the 
 best you can for your young one, and never mind what 
 people say or think about your nerves. 
 
 All young ones that are worth anything will want 
 a "set to" at times; they only want a game of romps, 
 just as a puppy does. If you let them go half across 
 a field, bucking, kicking, and pretending to bolt, 
 they are soon done with it and come to hand in a good 
 temper. One must not, of course, encourage a young 
 horse to play the fool, or it may become a habit or 
 trick; but it is far better to let him have his fling 
 than to hang on to his mouth. A young hunter, as 
 long as he retains his mouth, can, as his education 
 goes on, be taught anything and put just where you 
 want him. But if the moment he shows any desire for 
 a little play he is taken hard by the head, his mouth 
 will very soon deteriorate. 
 
 In nothing are nerves so essential as in giving 
 a youngster a good mouth. The nervous rider is always 
 expecting his mount to "play up", and in order to 
 check this tendency keeps him fast by the head, so that 
 the young tender mouth is inevitably deadened and even- 
 tually quite spoilt. Then very often the last state 
 of that rider is worse than the first, for a horse with 
 a really hardened mouth can "set to", no matter how 
 hard his rider hangs on to it. 
 
 Fortunately, young mouths that have been hardened 
 can generally be got perfectly right, if taken in time 
 and ridden with long reins and very light hands. 
 I have at different times taken over the riding of 
 four-year-olds whose mouths had been hardened and dead- 
 ened," and who had grown used to an iron grip. 
 Their surprise at not being taken hard by the head was 
 almost comic, and it was clear to me that the grip 
 was most expected when the pace was increased from 
 walk to trot or from trot to canter. It was from this 
 I argued that the iron grip was due to nerves, for in 
 changing pace the rider naturally thought there was 
 an increased chance of his mount bucking and kicking, 
 so increased his grip to try and counteract the tend- 
 ency. Such mouths with care, it is true, can be put 
 
-28- 
 
 right, but they will never regain the silken per- 
 fection of mouths that have not known the heavy- 
 handed nervous grip. No horse should ever he allowed 
 to lean on the bit; that fault can always be cured. 
 
 Young horses soon get over their love of a game 
 of romps, especially if kept in steady work, and here 
 again the voice can be used with effect. Scold them 
 when romping and bucking, just to show you do not 
 really approve of it, but don't jerk them violently 
 in the mouth or knock them about; treat them as 
 you would a child. If you can retain the perfect 
 mouth, it makes it so very much easier to "balance" 
 your young one, and there we approach a very im- 
 portant point. 
 
 It is not easy to describe "balance", but if one 
 goes to the ring-side at any good horse show, when 
 riding classes for hunters are in the ring, one can 
 see it by watching the men showing horses for the 
 big dealers. Such men started with natural talent, 
 we may be quite sure of that, or they would never 
 have been given the riding to do; and this talent 
 has been developed by riding al" 1 sorts of horses with 
 all sorts of failings, and by many hours spent in 
 preparing these very perfectly shaped horses for the 
 ring. The combined result is that you see balance 
 and manners in perfection. What balance is, must 
 be learnt by experience; but if your horse passes 
 easily from one pace to another, you may assume that 
 he is at least fairly balanced. If he slugs along 
 with his nose out, you may be sure he is not. 
 Another test is ridge and furrow; only a well-balanced 
 horse will cross that pleasantly. No horse can be 
 well balanced unless his head is in the right place, 
 neither too high nor too low, and with the nose neither 
 stuck out nor tucked in. I always hold that it 
 does not greatly matter where you hands are, as long 
 as your horse's head is carried right. 
 
 One thing you can be certain of - if a man's 
 horse in walking or trotting is constantly dropping 
 behind or getting in front of his companions, that 
 man does not balance his horse or ride him in the 
 true sense. He is merely a passenger borne along 
 
-29- 
 
 by his horse. It is very easy with the heel to 
 keep a slow horse up, and with the hand to steady 
 back a fast walker or trotter. It was to me always 
 an instructive sight to watch the peons of Entre Rios 
 when out for a ride or travelling. Whatever number 
 were riding together, they moved in line with perfect 
 "dressing". The reason was that they were horsemen 
 to a man, each horse was balanced, and the fast 
 walkers steadied back, the slow ones kept up. And 
 so at every pace, trot or canter, the line was always 
 kept. Many young Englishmen came out who could not 
 ride and took no trouble to learn. The peons used 
 to say of such, as they went straggling along, that 
 they "travelled like wild geese". 
 
 If you have been able to balance your four-year- 
 old nicely and to give him a perfect mouth, the battle 
 is pretty well won. Remember never to take him by 
 surprise. Don't suddenly shoot him from a walk to 
 a trot; never, indeed, suddenly and without warning 
 change the pace either to increase or decrease it. 
 Give your horse warning with knees and rein, so that 
 he goes off in a perfectly collected way. This is 
 most important. In decreasing the pace I often used 
 the voice as warning, saving the mouth from anything 
 but a gentle pressure, which is then at once accepted 
 save by very keen and eager horses. 
 
 You cannot make your young hunter too handy, 
 and figures of eight done at the walk, trot, and canter, 
 are useful, as indeed are all bending practices. 
 
 As to jumping, most well-shaped horses soon 
 learn that. If opportunity offers, I would prefer 
 that the young one should get his first lessons by 
 having to go through a short run with a couple of 
 strong timber jumps in it, when turned out to grass 
 of a morning or evening. The timber at first can be 
 laid on the ground and gradually raised to about 
 four feet. In this way they take it coolly and as a 
 matter of course, and know a good deal about jumping 
 before you get on their backs. It also develops the 
 jumping muscles. 
 
 Then, when the young one has come nicely to 
 
-30- 
 
 hand, is well balanced and will do whatever you 
 want, take him one day when not too fresh to a 
 small and easy course and ride him round it, or 
 better still, if you have a farm, ride him over a 
 few small natural fences. Don't ride in spurs and 
 avoid using a whip, but you may have just to show 
 it to him. A good jumping ring, if available, is 
 a useful adjunct. Use it a few times before you 
 ride your young one over fences, and if during the 
 progress of his jumping education he gives you 
 trouble, put him back into the ring for a time or 
 two, not too often. Recollect that the real 
 jumping education and polish must be given from 
 the saddle; you cannot make a horse take off exact- 
 ly as you wish when driving him round a ring, nor 
 can you direct him at any exact spot in the fence 
 or prevent a slight swerve in the last stride. 
 That slight swerve from the weak and selected spot 
 in a strong fence which many a badly broken hunter 
 makes just as he takes off is a very fruitful 
 source of falls. 
 
 Always try to make your horse take his jump 
 as a matter of course and without any excitement. 
 He should, if possible, be taught to hop over a 
 fence with as little fuss as when he changes pace 
 from walk to trot or trot to canter. That is why 
 it is so important to give all the first jumping 
 lessons when your horse is not fresh or above him- 
 self. And, above all, never bring a horse up to 
 a fence without making it perfectly clear to him 
 that he is expected to jump it. 
 
 If you take a young horse by surprise, he will 
 certainly either refuse or jump badly. There is 
 no doubt a little knack or skill required to make 
 it quite clear to your horse that he has got to 
 jump, and yet to do this without in any way exciting 
 him. 
 
 It is quite easy to rouse a horse for a jump 
 by an application of the whip or spurs, or by other 
 exciting moves of the arms or legs, but that of all 
 things is what you want to avoid with a young one. 
 It is also easy to trot or canter a horse up to a 
 
-31- 
 
 fence without giving any indication that you expect 
 him to jump it. He will then come up to it quite 
 coolly, but most likely will not understand what you 
 want him to do; he will only realise in the last 
 stride or two that it is a question of jumping, and 
 the result will he either a refusal or a bad, scramb- 
 ling sort of jump. 
 
 Both ways are bad, over-rousing and exciting 
 the worst of the two. A better way is this: just 
 feel his mouth, possibly bringing his head up an inch 
 or two, at the same time get a really strong clip on 
 him with your knees and let that knee pressure in- 
 crease as you near the fence. Then a slight, almost 
 invisible movement of the hands (always have both on 
 the reins), and a word of cheer, and your young one 
 will take off exactly right, sail over his fence, en- 
 joying it as much as you do. 
 
 These first jumping lessons should be given in 
 a thick plain snaffle. That, in my opinion, is also 
 far the best bit for the first few days with the hounds; 
 after that a rider can consult his own individual 
 taste. Young horses can hardly be ridden too slowly 
 at their fences. So ridden, they jump off their 
 hocks and learn to measure their fences accurately. 
 I never hurried a young one even at water. Later, 
 when they have learnt their business, you can in- 
 crease the pace. With a smooth snaffle you lessen 
 the risk of a painful "job" in the mouth, which the 
 strongest-seated man may unintentionally deal to his 
 horse if he jumps in some unexpected way or pecks 
 heavily. There is no such fruitful source of re- 
 fusals as a nasty "job" on the jaws of a young horse, 
 or indeed of an old one. Each man of experience 
 has his own ideas about riding young horses to hounds. 
 Personally I always tried to do without a lead and 
 to get at the fences where nobody else was riding at 
 them. I never liked a lead, and hold that a young 
 horse learns more in jumping half a dozen fences on 
 his own than dozens of fences when following other 
 horses. If you follow a man in order to get the 
 benefit of a lead, you must keep fairly close to him 
 or somebody else may cut in. You are also bound to 
 see him safe into the next field before you set your 
 
-32- 
 
 horse going. The result may be that you have to 
 hurry your young one or, if your leader dwells at 
 the fence, have to pull him out of his stride, both 
 equally bad for him. 
 
 That your leader, no matter how good he is, may 
 refuse or fall is another consideration, for in either 
 case he ceases to be of any value to you. On the 
 whole, then, it is far better, when possible, to get 
 a clear front and find your own way over fences. 
 
 If a horse is at all excitable he is apt to 
 jump in a wild hurried way when after another, while 
 if alone he will /judge the fence for himself and jump 
 in a much more collected style. 
 
 If the above suggestions for preliminary school- 
 ing cannot be carried out > a young one can often be 
 made into a good hunter without them. I have taken 
 out four-year-olds with hounds, which I had not the 
 chance to school beforehand, and which to my certain 
 knowledge had not been schooled in any way. In such 
 a case you should begin carefully, and feel your way 
 as to the fences to take on for the first few days 
 you are out. A pack of harriers is far the best 
 school for making young hunters, for as a rule the 
 field is not a large one, so that your young one has 
 a better chance to watch hounds - an enormous advan- 
 tage. There is no lead like a pack of hounds: 
 horses love to be near them when running. Then 
 again, if things do go wrong, they don't get away 
 from you as foxhounds do, for it is rare for a hare 
 to make much of a point. 
 
 Horses vary so much that no fixed laws can be 
 laid down for evolving the perfect hunter, and it 
 may be a comfort to anyone who has failed in school- 
 ing a young one at home if I give an instance of such 
 a failure which resulted in a very fine performer. 
 The case in point was a well-bred mare which a friend 
 of mine had bought in Ireland and asked me to ride 
 and "make" for him. The first thing I rode her at 
 was a small ditch, the worst kind of jump, I may add, 
 to select for such a purpose, but it happened to come 
 handy. She did not show much temper, but simply 
 
-33- 
 
 would not jump, and I only got her over with the 
 help of men and ropes. I had no school handy 
 round which I could drive her, but otherwise tried 
 everything I knew. I can honestly say that although 
 I got her through a few fences, she never really 
 jumped one. I was at that time busy with a lot of 
 young horses, and as she was learning nothing I gave 
 up the contest and simply rode her about occasionally 
 and got her handy. Late in October I took her out 
 with hounds in a good grass country, and, I must 
 admit, felt far from confident. In such circumstances 
 one always gets a good start. I did, and felt I 
 must at least have a feeble try to go. I sailed 
 down at the first fence, not a conspicuously small 
 one, and to my delight she took off just right and 
 jumped it like a stag. That was good enough for 
 me, and away I went, and she never turned her head 
 or made a mistake. We only ran for ten minutes, 
 but from that morning she went steadily on and was 
 soon an accomplished hunter. I expect there was 
 some history to account for her dislike of jumping 
 in cold blood - most likely when schooling she had 
 got cast and frightened and had then defeated some 
 rough rider who tried to make her jump. In the 
 excitement of being with hounds she forgot all this. 
 
 I remarked above that a ditch is a bad fence to 
 begin with - the young horse sees a gleam of water 
 that, frightens him. He stops and nearly slips in 
 and then' is really terrified. I have seen more 
 young horses stuck up at small ditches than any other 
 form of fence . 
 
 Of course horses vary in the making according 
 to their breeding. As a rough rule, the commoner 
 bred ones come more quickly and easily to hand. 
 My own experience has lain chiefly among young Irish 
 horses. I have ridden them of all sorts for other 
 people, but for myself always went for very well- 
 bred ones, nearly but not quite clean bred. Such 
 horses soon learn their business as hunters, nearly, 
 but not quite, as quickly as common-bred ones. 
 
 ^uite clean-bred ones, out of training, in my 
 experience take much longer to make, and are apt 
 
-34- 
 
 to get upset over some trifle which throws them 
 hack and delays their education just when they seem 
 to be coming nicely to hand. They very often can 
 be bought cheaply enough, but, unless you have a 
 first-class stud groom, are best left alone. They 
 require more skilful stable management than half- 
 breds, and are more delicate as a rule and more 
 nervous . 
 
 Be careful, if your four-year-old proves a 
 bold, big jumper, not to overface him. If you ride 
 at fences so big that he cannot jump them or can 
 only get over with a fall, he will lose confidence 
 in you. What you want to do is to build up his 
 confidence so that he will face, and face with good 
 will, any fence you put him at. Then if he goes 
 on right, gets experience and gets fit, towards the 
 end of the season may come a glorious day when 
 hounds race for twenty-five or thirty minutes over 
 a big, fair country, and your four-year-old, full 
 of courage and dash, with blind confidence in you, 
 going just where you want and how you want, fairly 
 and squarely has the best of it all the way. He 
 knows he is leading the lot and is proud of it, and 
 who can blame you if you are very proud of him? 
 
 One must not be too hard on four-year-olds, 
 but once you have got them really fit, a light- 
 weight can see great sport on them, especially if 
 the going is not too deep. A keen lad is apt to 
 keep them out too long and take them out too often. 
 This tells on them and is apt to develop a weak 
 spot. If they have shown lameness, give them a 
 little time after they are quite sound again; it 
 will pay you in the end, even if you have to stay 
 at home when sport is good. 
 
 I once saw a very good and severe hunt well on 
 a four-year-old that had never before been out 
 hunting, save one half -day in the woods during 
 which he never saw a fence, but then he had condi- 
 tion. He was full of old oats and had been doing 
 a lot of dog-cart work, and fast work at that. 
 Many years afterwards, when reading with interest 
 'The History of the Meynell', I came across a re- 
 
-35- 
 
 ference to this hunt from which the reader might 
 infer I had grossly overridden my mount. But he 
 came home quite gaily and was sold fairly well at 
 auction not long afterwards, so we may assume he 
 was sound. The reference is as follows: 
 
 "It was a first-rate run - a nine-mile point 
 in fifty-five minutes. There is unluckily no 
 record of it that goes at all into details, but 
 Mr. W. Fraser-Tytler was one of those who saw it 
 well on a four-year-old of Mr. Port's, which was 
 never any good afterwards". 
 
 Whether the four-year-old turned out well or 
 ill I never heard, hut after the first two or 
 three fences he went well that day and only fell 
 once. But most emphatically that is not the sort 
 of hunt you want the first time you introduce a 
 young horse to hounds. 
 
 Dick Fort, as he was so often called, was for 
 many years Master of the Meynell. His horses 
 always had the best of everything and his stable 
 management was excellent. But whether between the 
 shafts of his dog-cart on the road, or between his 
 legs as hunters, they had to 'go 1 , and I have 
 never ridden a four-year-old that was in harder 
 condition. A good and gallant sportsman, it was 
 always a joy to see him ride to hounds and a 
 pleasure to see him sit on a horse, for his seat 
 was a perfect one. He was killed in 1918 by a 
 fall over wire. 
 
 I have often had keen young ones who had got 
 quite pleasant and steady with hounds, and have 
 then dropped in for a really quick thing with them 
 when they were set going in earnest. The next 
 day they hunted they would be as wild as a hawk. 
 It is a good plan, if you want to give a very 
 keen one manners, not to loose him off two hunt- 
 ing days in succession. It requires a good deal 
 of self-restraint to carry it out, but if, after 
 a real good 'go', you take things very easily the 
 next day you have him with hounds, his manners will 
 benefit. He will recognise that hunting is not a 
 
-36- 
 
 succession of point-to-points and won't always be 
 on his toes ready for a start. 
 
 I think I have said enough to shew that the 
 making of four-year-olds can be a very entertain- 
 ing amusement for a young man with good nerves who 
 can ride a bit. If he has to hunt 'on the cheap', 
 he will see more sport on one or two screws than on 
 one or two four-year-olds; but the latter, once 
 made, if the right material has been bought, be- 
 come valuable and high-class hunters. The screw, 
 on the other hand, becomes more screwy and worth- 
 less year by year. Most men who make hunters find 
 that the ones they have made to their own hands are 
 far more perfect conveyances than any hunter they 
 buy. 
 
 Another thing that a lad with limited means and 
 a very small stud should bear in mind is this: if 
 you make one or two four-year-olds well for yourself, 
 you will soon have people in your hunt asking you 
 to ride their four-year-olds or other troublesome 
 horses for them. This greatly helps out a small 
 stud, and enables you to get out hunting when a 
 run of bad stable luck may otherwise keep you kick- 
 ing your heels at home. It is a good rule never to 
 refuse any mount offered to you, no matter how bad 
 its reputation. It all gives you experience, and 
 very soon you should develop an instinct for the 
 really dangerous ones. If you find yourself on 
 one that simply cannot be kept on his legs, you 
 can play light and go gently on him for a few days 
 (there are certain fences over which no horse can 
 fall; confine yourself to them), and then return 
 the horse with thanks. Even such a one will have 
 taught you something. The horses to dread, young 
 or old, are the ones that cannot ' put in a short 
 one', who cannot get their stride right for the fence. 
 Such horses are always dangerous,, no matter how 
 slowly or carefully you ride them at fences. They 
 will jump half a dozen well and then get their stride 
 wrong, often at strong timber, and give you a heavy 
 fall. Fortunately this class of horse is not often 
 met with, but in extreme cases no amount of school- 
 ing or falling seems to cure them. 
 
■37- 
 
 I could ramble on about riding four-year-olds 
 for many a page, but will only add in favour of 
 my contention that it is a fascinating amusement 
 that, although nearly three-score and rather the 
 worse for wear, I still enjoy a ride on one. And 
 in conclusion I would impress these things on the 
 novice: be very patient, very gentle, but utterly 
 determined that your young one shall never defeat 
 you; ride with long reins and never hang on to 
 his head; always make your intentions clear to him, 
 and never take him by surprise. 
 
 ■ooOoo- 
 
CHAPTER V . 
 
 One sez, "iv.oy 'oss a wunna joomp"; another sez, 
 
 "Young mon, 
 Will your 'oss joomp? fur if a will, Oi wish as 
 
 you'd go hon." 
 Sez Oi, "Oi niver 'oss'd afore, bur louk oup, fur 
 
 'ere goes," 
 And Smiler med a rood roight threough and landed 
 
 on his nooze. 
 
 Derbyshire Hunting Song: P. COTTON. 
 
 It is often said that horses are not fond of 
 jumping. .. opinion is that, if properly trained, 
 ridden, and bitted, they are just as fond of it as 
 they are of trotting down a road or of any other 
 work they have to do for their living. In some 
 cases they are obviously very fond of it. 
 
 As a rule, refusing with sound, fresh horses 
 is due to the bit. But as soon as a horse gets 
 worn and groggy on his legs he is apt to refuse. 
 He hates the jar of landing over a fence, and 
 never jumps well until warmed up. If you don't 
 believe in the bit theory, stay and watch a "field" 
 come over some fence which everybody has to jump. 
 It is surprising how many of the men's horses get 
 a more or less severe "job" in the mout^. Ladies' 
 horses come off better, or did in side-saddle days, 
 for then, owing to their seat, they had to keep their 
 reins long, and so few men do that. 
 
 hen a horse receives his rider's weight in 
 his mouth it must be uncomfortable - one may well 
 say painful. Ten to sixteen stone attached to his , 
 mouth with reins and a sharp bit, swaying about as 
 he jumps (the actual connection with the saddle being 
 of a slight and perfunctory nature), cannot be popular 
 
-39- 
 
 with any horse. They must look forward to jumping 
 under such conditions much as we look forward to a 
 visit to the dentist. The dentist theory will ac- 
 count, too, for so many horses hating to jump in 
 cold blood that will jump readily when out hunting. 
 In their keenness and excitement they forget the pain, 
 just as we hardly notice a blow or cut received in 
 the rush and rattle of a polo match or hunt, yet 
 wince and complain at far less pain inflicted on us 
 while sitting quietly in the dentist's chair. Obvious- 
 ly, then the more severe the bit the greater the pain 
 an indifferent or bad rider can inflict, so that, un- 
 less we are such perfect horsemen that we can be cer- 
 tain of never hurting a horse's mouth unintentionally, 
 the mildest bit in which we can ride a horse should be 
 the one to select. It is fairly easy to leave a mouth 
 alone when you can canter down to a fence and take it 
 in your stride, but at a nasty cramped bottom, where 
 a clever horse slides half-way down the bank and then 
 jumps suddenly, it is another matter. In such and 
 like difficulties the mild bit has a great advantage. 
 
 I have seen, too, even good horsemen fail and 
 touch their horses' mouths when they have to jump out 
 of a road almost from a stand. One of the clearest 
 cases I ever knew of refusing from the bit was that of 
 a certain black pony, the cleverest and laziest of his 
 kind, that belonged in turn to me and various members 
 of my family. I could not go so far as to say he was 
 fond of jumping, for all forms of exercise were repug- 
 nant to him; but I think if one could have explained 
 to him that some exercise was good for his health and 
 left the choice to him, he would have selected jumping 
 exercise. One day a lady wished to ride him over a 
 little "made course," and although assured he would 
 not pull, begged for a curb bridle to be put on him. 
 Now, he had certainly never hardened his mouth by 
 "taking hold," and at one of the fences she gave him 
 a sharp, unintentional "job" in the mouth. He would 
 not jump again for her, nor did he ever again jump 
 properly for anybody. That seemed very good proof 
 to me of what the bit misapplied can do. Of course, 
 he could have been put right with much trouble, but 
 he was an old pony when it happened, and nobody greatly 
 cared whether he jumped or not. 
 
-40- 
 
 An interesting remark bearing on this subject was 
 made to me by a sailor who had been going very straight 
 on a big, bold- jumping horse. On my admiring his 
 horse's, and incidentally his own, performance, for I 
 love to see a brave man, he replied: "He is a splendid 
 jumper, and nearly jumps me off at some fences, for he 
 will snatch at the reins and nearly- pulls them out of 
 my hands just before he takes off". Nov/, they were a 
 very brave pair, the rider brave but ignorant, the 
 horse brave and knowledgeable. The sailor, no doubt, 
 had dealt him certain hard blows on the jaw when being 
 nearlv jumped off, so the old horse took steps to es- 
 tablish a good length of rein before he took off, in- 
 stead of refusing, as a less gallant one would have 
 done. 
 
 I maintain, then, that the mild bit is a great pre- 
 ventive of refusals. For myself, I swear by snaffles, 
 and have practically ridden every horse I have ever owned 
 in them - thick, ringed snaffles, smooth if possible, and 
 if you must have a twist in them, and I found I often 
 needed it, let them still be thick and ringed. 
 
 I know there is still a prejudice against them, but 
 they are much more common now than they were thirty 
 years ago. In those days, in looking round a big field 
 in the Midlands, I often failed to see any snaffle but 
 my own, and I was constantly asked why I used them - so 
 constantly that I fear my replies were often more curt 
 than explanatory, especially if I had failed to get a 
 start or if things had gone wrong with me. Of course, 
 in Ireland they have always been the favourite bit. 
 Ask the men who cross Ireland best if they can do it in 
 severe bits. 
 
 When if comes to curing a horse of refusing, other 
 things besides bitting have to be thought of. Horses 
 have good memories, and if you buy a horse from a man 
 who has accepted defeat time after time, it may take 
 long to get these memories out of his head. 
 
 If you want to cure a horse of refusing you must 
 never let him off. First give him a good deal of work 
 in the jumping ring, and punish him when he stops and 
 refuses. After the ring, ride him in schooling at 
 
-41- 
 
 fences that you can force him over, or, if the worst 
 comes to the worst, pull him over with ropes. When 
 you take him out hunting don't overface him, and be 
 careful never to ride him at a fence near a gate which 
 people are passing through. When he does refuse, 
 stick to it and get him over. It is far better to lose 
 one run and defeat him than to lose your place in many 
 by riding a confirmed refuser. Of course there are 
 certain fences over which it is impossible to force a 
 horse. If I entirely failed I always let the horse 
 know I was very angry with him and punished him. I 
 have found this plan answer more than once. Horses 
 are clever enough, and know perfectly why they are being 
 punished. 
 
 I remember bitterly and well a case in point during 
 a good hunt with the Bicester. I was riding a queer- 
 tempered, clean-bred mare, when at a little brook about 
 ten or twelve feet wide she refused and fairly defeated 
 me, costing me the hunt. We had not been running for 
 long, but in coming down to the brook we had crossed 
 some charming flying fences, over which she had been 
 jumping very big, covering, I would dare to say, at least 
 sixteen to twenty feet at each; that made the "stick-up" 
 even harder to bear and more trying to the temper. I 
 feared I should never be able to depend on her again, 
 and as I had no means of pulling her over, I had to turn 
 away; but before doing so I determined to administer 
 a terribly severe hiding. I knew that with such a mare 
 it was probably a case of "make or mar," "kill or cure," 
 but she was not a nervous one, and I risked it. The 
 case went in my favour and the verdict was "made" and 
 "cured." The very next day I hunted her we "met," as 
 our Irish friends say, a much bigger brook, and although 
 a man refused just in front of her, my mare swung over it 
 in her stride, nor did she ever again give trouble at 
 water or any other description of fence. It was, 
 however, an exceptional case, and such severe punishment 
 should only be resorted to when ether means have entirely 
 failed. Refusers, of course, vary greatly in their 
 habits, but my experience is that the horse who refuses 
 far back from a fence seldom gives much trouble. The 
 pig who stops in the last stride, with his chest almost 
 against the fence, is the most difficult one to defeat. 
 
-42- 
 
 A cutting whip is of great value with bad-tempered 
 refusers. Horses that will stop and kick like furies 
 when spurred will often give in to an application of the 
 cutting whip. It does not seem to upset their tempers 
 in the same way as the spur. It is also of use in 
 making sticky, short- jumping horses jump out - more 
 useful, possibly, with such horses than with any others. 
 
 But the cutting whip is of no use unless you know 
 how to pick it up and use it when picked up. The 
 picking up must be done like lightning, and as you pick 
 it up, say, with the right hand, enough of the right- 
 hand rein must be passed into the left hand to keep a 
 level bearing on the horse's mouth. If as you pick up 
 your whip you let one rein go slack, of course your horse 
 will swerve from the whip and run out. 
 
 Then, when you do hit, hit hard and close behind 
 the girth. It is a brutal thing to hit a horse far 
 back. To use a whip properly and with either hand 
 requires quite a little practice. " But for any lad who 
 is going in for riding all sorts of horses, it is well 
 worth learning, and all, except the actual stroke, can 
 be practised at any time when riding about on quiet 
 horses. Once learnt it is not forgotten, and may often 
 come in useful in hunt or point-to-point races. It 
 should be easy enough to get an amateur or professional 
 jockey to show the best way of picking up the whip. 
 
 A cutting whip properly applied is very useful 
 •with a queer-tempered horse that "sits up" with you on 
 the road. If you watch closely you can generally de- 
 tect signs of the coming trouble; then, before he has 
 quite stopped, let him have it once, but as hard as you 
 can deliver it. Very often a wild bound takes the 
 horse past the spot he had intended to select for his 
 battle-ground, and surprise and pain puts the whole 
 thing out of his head. But the blow should be given 
 quickly and without warning. Surprise is as great an 
 advantage in a horse fight as in any other kind of 
 battle. 
 
 Probably in nothing so much as riding refusers, do 
 hands come in - hands and determination, the power of 
 
-43- 
 
 cutting your whole body and will into it. 
 
 I remember once, years ago, standing by the open 
 ditch at a small country meeting. Four horses came alor 
 and one, a chestnut mare, stuck in her toes and cut it. 
 Arthur Nightingale, then at the top of the tree, was 
 riding her, and I watched him closely. He gave her 
 two of the best as he took her back just far' enough to 
 give her a run, turned her round and drove her at it. 
 Both hands on the reins, the mare seemed held in a vice, 
 and it was easy to see that almost every rnuscle of that 
 •oowerful jockey T s body was at work; one noted the grim 
 determination in the face, but could only wonder what 
 the lateral pressure per square inch on that mare's ribs 
 amounted to. She got over the big fence, one of the 
 most obviously reluctant I have ever seen forced into 
 the air. I walked away confirmed in my opinion that 
 the winning-post is not the only interesting spot on 
 a racecourse. 
 
 en fighting a horse, either a refuser or a "mean" 
 horse who has stuck up with you in the road, look out 
 for a moment when he wavers in his determination; such 
 a moment nearly always comes, and if you are 'ready for 
 it and exert all your muscle and will-power, you win. 
 Allow it to pass, and the fight will go on. The man, 
 who loves horses and is constantly riding all sorts de- 
 velops an instinct which helps him at such times. I 
 have watched a fight and felt inclined to yell out "To. ! 
 when the horse appeared to me to waver. a often as 
 not, if the rider had not the true instinct, he would 
 select that moment to blow his nose or otherwise rest 
 from his exertions. 
 
 The greatest success I ever had with a refuser 
 was with a seven-year-old chestnut horse that I bought 
 from a friend. He had not hunted him and did not pre- 
 tend to know much a . but he did remark that he 
 would not jump in cold blocd, and had evidently been de- 
 feated by him. I got the horse home and took him for 
 a ride, with no intention of asking him to jump. I was 
 trotting him round a field, when we suddenly came on a 
 tiny ditch, no bigger than many a cart rut, running out 
 
-44- 
 
 f rom the hedge . 
 
 We were on it before I saw it, and he stopped dead. 
 I sat there and thought. I did not want a fight the 
 first day I rode him yet I could hardly believe he would 
 want more than a little pressure of the knee to make 
 him ral over it. I applied the pressure, but any walk- 
 ing he did was back'" . I ;ot on to him directly 
 after breakfast - the place was within a quarter of a 
 mile of my house - and he crossed that ditch, if you could 
 call it a ditch, just in time to enable vie to get back to 
 lunch. I never knocked him about, but I kept 
 at him all the time. The next time I had him in th 
 field a very heav - nded lad was walking him about, and 
 on a call from me he turned him quickly round near a 
 
 de fence." The horse thought he was meant to .lump 
 it, and before the 1 . could stop him bounded ove . It 
 shbwec Lie he had learnt his lesson; he wa i ever any 
 trouble again and carried me well to hounds. 
 
 Another refuser, on which I had a quick success, 
 gave far less trouble, and with kin i J a clear case 
 of refusing from fear of the bit. friend of mine 
 asked me to ride this young one, as it had been refusing 
 badl^ with his Is . He himself had not ridden it, as 
 it was not up to his Lght. , my friend, the owner, 
 always seemed to me to overbit his horses. He had fine 
 
 it hands and they went all right with hi , but I 
 thought it probable that his groom carried out the over- 
 bitting without the light hands that compensated for it. 
 So I asked to have the young one sent out for me in a 
 plain snaffle, which was done. 
 
 The first little fence I rode him at he refused six 
 times. Luckily for me, hounds were running very slowly 
 and checking in almost every field. He refused the 
 next few fences, but each one less often and with less 
 determination. The last of about half a do?,en small 
 fences he only refused once, and for the rest of the day 
 never turned his he- . When next I rode him we got 
 penned in a lane at the very start of a hunt, and a man 
 began refusing at the only available place in the fence 
 out of it . I was next to him and shouted out: "Come 
 out of the way; I know mine will 50!" - a cheerful and 
 optimistic view of the case which I was far from feeli ■ ■■ . 
 Still, it would have been no good saying: "If you will 
 allow me to try-, there is just a vague chance mine might 
 go." But go he did, and never turned his heai L . 
 
-45- 
 
 He was sold, soon afterwards to a very hard man, and 
 turned out an exceptionally good hunter. He was 
 naturally fond of jumping, or he would not have come 
 right so soon, and had merely been upset by bad riding 
 and a severe bit. 
 
 The worst refuser of all to deal with is the nervous 
 refuser, far worse than the horse which refuses from 
 temper, which can generally be knocked out of him, or 
 from previous bad riding, which can be put right by good 
 and careful handling. It is no use knocking a nervous 
 one about; you must just keep your temper and keep quiet- 
 ly at him. Even so, when they do they are apt to 
 jump very badly and hurt themselves and possibly their 
 rider. 
 
 I remember one such that I owned, a very beautiful 
 thoroughbred r.iare. She was one of the biggest jumpers 
 I have ever ridden, and had s curious knack of bringing 
 her hind legs so sharply up when jumping that she some- 
 times struck the sole of my boot with her hoof. Yet 
 that mare killed herself from nervousness at quite a 
 small place, a small stake and bound fence with a ditch 
 on the take-off side. She tried hard to stop, then at 
 the last moment, finding she could not, she made a half- 
 hearted jump at it and dropped on the fence. A small, 
 sharp, live stake (those are the dangerous ones) went 
 deeply in, and in spite of all our care, in two days 
 it was all over. Poor care, she bore me no ill-will, 
 and would let no one else dress her wound. 
 
 Another very bad case of nerves was again a clean- 
 bred mare, but I knew the root cause of that. She was 
 bought out of training by a relative of mine, whose single 
 idea when riding to hounds was, on any sort of horse under 
 any sort of conditions, to try and go into every field 
 with them. He took her out cub-hunting when the country 
 
 s not fit to ride over, and she deposited herself up- 
 side down in a very big and very blind ditch. She never 
 got over that. If all went well from the first, she v/as 
 a very good hunter; but the slightest peck or mistake 
 upset her, and you could not rely on her, and if she fell 
 she was perfectly useless for the rest of the day. I 
 suppose awful memories of that ditch returned to her, for 
 
-46- 
 
 siie had not turned her head before she fell into it. 
 I bought her, but she never really improved, and al- 
 though a good hunter on her day, I was very glad to 
 get rid of her for what would have been a small part 
 of ber value had she been reliable. 
 
 The^e is, I fear, no safe and certain road to the 
 cure of refusing, but if ridden in the way indicated, 
 many horses can be cured, and none should become refus- 
 ers while sound and fresh on their legs. Quiet, deter- 
 mined riding, mild bits, and care not to over-face horses 
 are the best receipts. 
 
 ■ooOoo- 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 When our blood ran rapidly and when 
 Our bones were pliant and limber, 
 Could we stand a merry cross-counter then, 
 A slogging fall over timber. 
 
 LINDSAY GORDON. 
 
 To what extent men can learn to fall is an oft- 
 disputed point. The Druid, in writing of Tilbury the 
 dealer, says: "To take his tilbury into a field and 
 turn it neatly over and step out of it, without the 
 horse falling, was another sleight-of-hand diversion 
 with the ribbons to which he was peculiarly partial." 
 This would go to show that falling out of a trap can be 
 reduced to an exact science. Still, I am bound to add 
 that, although I have at different times upset a good 
 many traps, I usually adopted the more popular method 
 and fell out; only once can I remember landing neatly 
 on my feet. 
 
 The peon in Entre Rios, when his horse fell or 
 pecked from any cause, would invariably open his legs, fly 
 over its head and land on his feet. If a peon failed to 
 do this, no matter what pace he was going, he was looked 
 upon as a duffer. Their long seat (the toe merely in the 
 stirrups), and the shape of their "recado" or saddle, all 
 helped them to bring off this trick. Moreover, they 
 came away the moment a horse pecked, which one does not 
 wish to do when hunting. When riding to hounds, then, I 
 don't think one can emulate Mr. Tilbury or the peon. 
 But by keeping a cool head and knowing just what your 
 horse is doing, one can often save oneself to a great 
 extent. If a horse fairly gets his knees under timber 
 or a strong stake and bound, it is no good sitting tight. 
 The quicker the rider realises his position and comes 
 away from his horse the better, and a quick wriggle when 
 on the ground may save him a crushing from his horse. 
 
-48- 
 
 If a horse drops his hind legs in an ordinary ditch or 
 on a fence, it is generally right for a light-weight to 
 sit tight and stay in the saddle; but if he drops his 
 hind legs in a brook, bottom, or very deep ditch, be off 
 him in a flash or he may fall back, and his rider is 
 then in a dangerous position. 
 
 Falling well comes with practice, and a lad who 
 rides all sorts of horses and tries to go on them is 
 sure to get a certain amount of practice; but I fear 
 there are some kind of falls which no skill can soften, 
 and of these, falls over wire are, of course, the worst 
 and most dangerous. Still, a lad who keeps his head 
 and knows exactly what is going on when he falls has the 
 best chance of escaping unhurt. I have heard men dis- 
 pute as to whether it is a good thing to cling to the 
 reins when down or not. I cannot see two sides to this 
 question. If you roll to the end of your reins you are 
 quite far enough away from your horse for safety, and 
 the only argument I ever heard advanced in favour of 
 letting go is that if a man does so, he can get quite 
 clear and his horse cannot tread on him or kick him. 
 While the reasons for holding on are more numerous, there 
 is one conclusive and overwhelming one: if you fall and 
 let go in a really fast, good hunt, you are out of it, 
 utterly and miserably out of it, and only a certain 
 number of such hunts come to each of us in our hunting 
 lives. But if a man keeps a grip of his reins when he 
 falls and is quickly up, he need only lose a few lengths, 
 need not lose his place, much less the hunt. 
 
 I never used patent clips that release the stirrup 
 when you fall, and have been hung up in my stirrups many 
 times without being hurt, as I had the reins. Patent 
 clips are best if you can't be sure of keeping your 
 reins, but they often come open when you do not want 
 them to do so, and your stirrups are sadly apt to remain 
 in a brook after rider and horse have emerged. 
 
 Holding on to the reins when you fall has to be 
 learnt, as the natural instinct is to put out your open 
 hands to break your fall. Still, it can be learnt. 
 I don't know if it comes easily to some men; I know I 
 fell pretty often before I could make certain of holding 
 on every time; but if you have got it well rammed into 
 
-49- 
 
 yoor head that you must hold on, your first thought as 
 you hit the ground is : "Have I got them?" That being 
 so, you can generally snatch the reins before your horse 
 has time to move, if in the shock of falling you have 
 let them go. 
 
 Once at a Sunday luncheon party I made some such 
 remark, and a youth who had never done much hunting 
 assured me he found that to hold on to his reins was 
 sheer instinct — so strong indeed was this instinct 
 that I gathered he could not let go even if he wanted 
 to. That was a Sunday. On Monday he fell close be- 
 side me, a gentle fall of whose coming he had ample 
 warning, for the horse blundered on for a length or two. 
 Yet for once, it appeared, the instinct was not in work- 
 ing order, and the horse trotted away. I could have 
 caught it, but fear I was brutal enough to make little 
 or no effort to do so, as I thought some work on foot 
 might revive the instinct, or at least prevent its being 
 so much in evidence on Sundays. 
 
 In falling, the main thing is to keep your head, 
 know just what your horse is doing, and be ready to take 
 advantage of any chance to save yourself. Don t sit 
 too tight when it's a decided and hopeless fall, and if 
 your horse has been on your leg and foot, give them a 
 quick shake as he rises. The fall may have pressed 
 stirrup and foot into the mud, and it then requires a 
 good shake to get the stirrup off the boot. 
 
 I saw a good instance of quickness once at Punches- 
 town, and although it has not an actual bearing on hunt- 
 ing falls, it was interesting. An enormous field had 
 started for a farmers' race. At the second fence, as 
 they poured up the course towards the stand, a horse out 
 with a lead fell. I had my glass on him, and the 
 jockey was up at once. He seemed to recognise that he 
 was right in the middle of the course, that the horses 
 were too close on him to give him any chance to get to 
 one side or the other. In another second he was down, 
 presenting his stern to the oncoming rush of horses, 
 and tucking his head in almost between his knees, clasped 
 his two hands behind it to protect the base of the skull. 
 All was done like lightning, and then he was lost to 
 sight in the tearing rush of horses. An English friend, 
 
-50- 
 
 not quite realising the position, said to me: "That 
 man is knocked silly"; while on the other side came 
 the soft Irish drawl of a complete stranger: "I think 
 he's knocked damn wise." It seemed incredible that 
 in such a "field," so bunched together, not a horse 
 should have touched him; and if he had not tucked him- 
 self up into the smallest possible space, it would have 
 been impossible. As the lad walked up the course un- 
 hurt I felt that the Irish stranger's reflection on the 
 incident was fairly correct. 
 
 Falls of all sorts will have much less effect on 
 the man who keeps himself fit and hard. Swedish exer- 
 cises done every morning keep the muscles limber and 
 greatly lessen their effect. Of course, falls ought to 
 be avoided, but I have known men who took pride in having 
 a great number; these, however, were never good men to 
 hounds. I remember one keen young soldier who felt he 
 had not really done his best unless he had taken about 
 forty falls by Christmas. Needless to say, in spite of 
 his bravery, he seldom or never saw a hunt, and his over- 
 faced horses constantly refused with him. But he must 
 have mastered the art of falling, for I don't recollect 
 that he was ever hurt. However, that is not the way to 
 ride to hounds. If you fall often, it is well to begin 
 to question what is wrong with your method of riding at 
 fences. 
 
 Good hands and horsemanship on the rider's part, 
 good shoulders on the horse's, are the best insurance 
 against falls; and, after all, they waste time when 
 hounds are running and, save in exceptional circumstances, 
 do your horse no good. 
 
 As I said before, far the worst falls are those we 
 get over wire. No shoulders can save you then, and the 
 best and bravest go down in a nasty-looking heap through 
 no fault of their own. Wire that pulls out when you 
 get into it is the worst of all, and many a horse gets 
 so cut up by it that he has to be killed. Wire, when 
 it is marked or can be seen, is nearly always best 
 avoided, but if it is nailed along the top of timber, 
 you are pretty sure to get over it if you ride at the 
 post; in such a case, too, the horse most likely sees 
 it. Again, if it runs along a hedge, not too near the 
 
-51- 
 
 top, by riding at a thick place in the hedge you may ex- 
 pect to get over; hut if a man goes in for that sort of 
 thing, he must know how to fall and be ready to come 
 away if his horse does make a mistake. You ought, too, 
 to be on a very good horse, the sort of horse who will 
 answer to you and will make an extra effort to jump 
 clear when you ask for it. But with all that thrown in, 
 jumping wire is best left to the young and hardy. As 
 dear old Jorrocks says: "Still, a fall's a hawful thing. 
 Dreadful thought! Vere's the brandy?" 
 
 One of the terrible disadvantages of wire is that 
 where it exists one has to go craning and looking at the 
 fences before you dare ride at them -- slow work, and 
 very bad for your horse. Also it must tend to take the 
 dash out of our young thrusters. If a keen lad starts 
 on his own line and jumps big fences, possibly taking a 
 fall or two, only to find himself wired time after time 
 and marked back to the tail of the hunt, it must damp 
 his ardour. 
 
 There are fortunately many blessed counties that 
 are still more or less clear of it, but in most hunts 
 much more could be done. A great step would be gained 
 if someone could be induced to take up the wire question 
 in every parish of a hunt, who would go all round getting 
 any existing wire taken down as far as possible, and re- 
 porting on the attitude towards hunting of any occupiers 
 who still kept it up. The M.F.H., or whoever is ap- 
 pointed by him, would then know exactly where the wire 
 was and what manner of man he had to deal with. Ladies, 
 when they take this work up, do it well. To get it 
 down and put up again costs money, and of course in- 
 creased subscriptions will be needed, but money that 
 gets wire down is well spent. 
 
 ■ooOoo- 
 
-52- 
 
 CH/ VII 
 
 Give me a man to whom naught comes 
 
 One horse or another, that country or this 
 
 Afho through falls and had starts undauntedly still 
 
 Rides up to the motto "Be with them I will . 
 
 EG" ".RBURTON. 
 
 ly of us have, I expect, at ti rondere 
 y there are so few really good men to hounds. The 
 answer is not an easy one to give, nor can it, I feel 
 sure, he given in a word. 
 
 ■ hen hounds run fast and hard over an enclose-., 
 country, and all packs do at times, in spite of hound 
 
 ows, it does not come at once to any man to ride 
 _is own line and stick to them. - men go hunting, 
 out only a few ever learn to do this well. In the 
 majority of cases it is not, I think, from the want of 
 courage or nerve; to excel, one must, of course, have 
 good nerves, but several other qualities are equally 
 essential. One of the greatest stumbling blocks is 
 want of quickness in forming an instant decision as 
 to whether a fence is jumpable or not. So many men 
 will jump a big place directly they have seen another 
 man go, but they have no confidence in their own 
 judgment. They feel that if leading and in front 
 they may take on a perfectly impossible place or turn 
 from one over which another man, coming up, flicks without 
 an effort. Is latter proceeding is somewhat humilia- 
 ting, and here we have one reason "why so few men settle 
 down resolutely to ride their own line when hounds run. 
 
 The first thing a lad who wishes to excel has to 
 learn (I am now talking of merely the riding part of the 
 
-53- 
 
 game) is to ;*udge his fences accurately and instantly. 
 Ho will get falls while learning, but if he has good 
 horses, good nerves, and a quick eye for the best 
 place in a fence, he will soon find that when hounds 
 are running fast there are in most countries very 
 few unjumpable fences. I use the word fast advisedly. 
 Horses will face and clear places when hounds are running 
 hard and their blood is up that they will turn from in 
 a slow hunting run. lere is no surer way of spoiling 
 a gallant horse than forcing him into big fences when 
 hounds are hunting slowly. A good hunter soon knows 
 all about it, and if you drive him through some nasty 
 thick place and arrive in the next field with a scramble 
 and then have to stand still, he thinks you are a fool, 
 and he is quite right, too. e you ask him to 
 
 jump such a place he refuses. I really cannot write 
 about riding to hounds without mentioning my dearly-loved 
 and very perfect grey mare Bessie. She knew everything 
 a hunter can know. In a slow hunting run, although at 
 such times I never took liberties with her, she would 
 sometimes whip round at a hairy fence. She knew 
 perfectly well there was no hurry, and rather seemed 
 to suggest we should look for a pleasanter place or let 
 somebody else bore the hole; but in a quick thing she held 
 very different views. If we got well away she as good 
 as said: "All right master, trust me; we will keep our 
 front seat". If we failed it was never her fault, and 
 under those conditions she would face gallantly and freely 
 any fence I ever dared to ride her at. 
 
 That point of having two styles of riding, one for 
 the slow huntj lg runs and one for the quick things, is, 
 I t3 important. It is the best preventative of 
 refusals that I know; good horses ridden in this way 
 should never turn their heads when going really fast. 
 It is a cure, too, for the fault of showing off - coming 
 suddenly out of a crowd and charging a big and unnecessar:/ - 
 fence to impress onlookers with 7rour prowess - and such- 
 like cont< ptible proceedings. 
 
 A lad may learn much by selecting a really good first 
 flight man as his pilot, but for a time only; it must 
 
-54- 
 
 not become a habit. During that time let Impress 
 two things on hi . First, let him give his pilot 
 ample room and see him well into the next field before 
 he rides at a fence, for horses often fall a length 
 or two after landing. That obligation must never be 
 forgotten; it is a crime to j\.imp on a man who is taking 
 you by "the shortest and most direct route'' to houn' . 
 Secondly, let him try and watch the leading hounds for 
 himself, anc alw ys be on the look-out for a chance to 
 turn inside his pilot and then to ride his own line for 
 a while. If he has been folic." real artist, he 
 
 11 be struck by the fact that the best and easiest 
 places in the fences always seem to come opposite to 
 him, .'areas when he turns off on his own line, that 
 is far from being the case. But the artist has spotted 
 the best place to jump out of each field as he jumps 
 into it, and gradually diverges to his selected place, 
 so that it seems, as it were, to come opposite to him 
 of its own accord. 
 
 There we come on a great secret - how far to go out 
 of your line to get an easy place. On that point, I 
 think, not even the greatest of our riders to hounds 
 could lay down any rule. Some fences solve the difficulty 
 by having only one possible place, so you .■■ ': go there. 
 But on this point I can only say that when fences are 
 reasonable and hounds are running fast, it is a mistake 
 to go any considerable distance out of your way for an 
 easy place. How far to diverge must depend on the fence, 
 the going, your horse, and the pace the hounds are running, 
 and can only be learnt by practical experience. en 
 once you have picked your place, stick to it; to change 
 upsets your horse, and to those riding near him a man 
 who changes about is a danger and a nuisance. 
 
 I have often been struck by the almost touching 
 faith of the "ruck" in their leader's judgment. In 
 any hunt you will find little groups waiting, with more 
 or less impatience, their turn at one particular spot 
 on a fence, while close by are other places just as easy 
 
-55- 
 
 or easier. But such groups are composed, of riders 
 without initiative, their guiding rule being to go 
 iVQ others have gone. 
 
 ;ooc horse an, .ho has learned, as he ;"umps into 
 a field, to estimate the fence out of it and to pick 
 the best place in 'it, has gone a long way towards being 
 a first flight man. 
 
 Of course, the far side of a fence must always be 
 a more or less unknown quantity. If this were not so, 
 riding to hounds would not be half the fun it is. at 
 it takes a very big ditch to trap a horse ridden freely, 
 yet collectedly, over a flying country, and if it is a 
 case of banks, the extra lift a horse will put in when 
 he finds a trap on the landing side is astounding. 
 
 In the grass countries especially, with big fields 
 out, a man must learn to gallop . You must gallop in 
 
 est at the start, slip over the first two or three 
 fences wherever you can get at them, then, if hounds run 
 on, you ought to find yourself with a more or less clear 
 front and in a position to watch the leading hounds and 
 pick your jes. 
 
 One tip, which I was given before I went for my 
 first winter on the grass, I have found invaluable 
 and never forgotten. It was this: i matter how 
 fa: t hounds are run or how great a burry you are 
 in, take a strong steadier at your horse before each 
 fence. Pull right back into a canter twenty yards or 
 less from the fence, and then set him at it". Ridden 
 in this way, I have found that horses .lump bigger and be 
 and take less out of themselves. 
 
 ze of advice has proved very useful bo 
 to myself and others. Some years ago I met a frie 
 at Tattersall' s , and he asked me to come and look at a 
 horse he thought of buying, a horse with a reputation, 
 although quite a young one. It was full of quality, 
 
-56- 
 
 but struck me as rather leggy, and I c rubbed it a good 
 deal. Next day he bought it for a very good figure, 
 which showed at least that ha attached no undue importance 
 to my judgment. In the winter I went to stay with him, 
 and as soon as I arrived he told me the new grey did not 
 i_o well with him, and . ■ refusing, and added that 
 he wanted me to ride it. I was, as usual, snort of 
 horses, and said I should be only too delighted. Now, 
 my friend's strong suit in riding to hounds was extreme 
 courage. He rather adopted the "loose rein and bloody 
 spur" methods. Although he went very -..ell en a horse 
 that suited him, I suspected the long-legged new purchase 
 got all abroad and sprawled about - felt, in fact, that 
 he was not collected enough to do himself justice at a 
 big fence, so refused. This idea proved correct, for 
 a few days later his owner returned to the subject and 
 ■eked me how I would ride the horse. Now, the state of 
 my stud made a practical illustration most desirable, but 
 we had i^ad a good hunt and a good dinner, so I handed on 
 the tip just us it was given to me. It was adopted, the 
 horse refused no more, and I never had my ride. 
 
 The habit of selecting ground when hounds are running 
 must net be ignored, for it is an important matter, 
 short course cf hunting with foot beagles - a very 
 interesting sport - would do many people good on this point 
 and on several ethers. You do not, for instance, see 
 people on foot press in on hounds "at fault", as riders 
 too often do, nor do they chatter quite so much at a check, 
 but puff and blow in comparative silence. Neither do they 
 try to follow hounds when they are being cast, prepared 
 to press them the moment they recover the line and before 
 they can really settle to it. And, returning to the 
 question of selecting good going and easing your horse 
 when you can, any moderately intelligent human being, 
 running with beagles, will pick out the lightest, and 
 soundest ground he can find to run on, and will carefully 
 watch hounds to save, himself as much as possible. Sub- 
 stitute "ride" for "run", and that is what you nave to 
 do when riding to hounds. 
 
-57- 
 
 It is important, too, when fox-hunting, to study 
 the direction of the wind. len hounds are drawing 
 or hunting in big woodlands, and the wind is high, if 
 one does not keep down wind, it is easy to lose them 
 completely; and when hounds are running across the 
 wind in the open it is well to keep down wind of them, 
 for tired foxes nearly always sink the wind. But 
 it is a mistake to think that a fox, even a tired one, 
 never turns up wind: I have seen men lose a hunt from 
 a too implicit belief in this rule, and the failing does 
 not seem to have been unknown to our grandfathers, for 
 Beckford, writing of huntsmen, says; "I have known them 
 lose foxes rather than condescend to try up the wind at 
 all". 
 
 The importance of closely watching hounds, both 
 for the^r sakes and your own, cannot be exaggerated. 
 I shall return to the subject in another chapter, from 
 the hound point of view; but here I will only add that 
 unless you learn to watch hounds closely and study their 
 ways, you will never ride up to them well, day in and 
 day out, aa s good man should. 
 
 In my opinion the good man to hounds is the persistent 
 performer - the man who tries each day he goes out, and 
 who tries equally on all his horses, who always tries to 
 get a start, and when he fails sees all he can of a run 
 from a back seat, while, without riding his horse's head 
 off, he is on the look-out to alter that back seat to a 
 front one. 
 
 ben all is said and written about riding to hounds, 
 the greatest secret is a grim determination, when you 
 are well placed alongside hounds, to stay there; and 
 when you get badly away, an equally grim determination 
 to stick to it and put matters right at the first chance 
 you get. The man who, when he gets a good start and 
 when he is riding his best horse, can flash over country 
 brilliantly for fifteen minutes and then dies away, is 
 of no account. 
 
 A very de^r old friend of mine afforded a good 
 illustration of what such determination can do. In 
 his youth all sport, except hunting, had come his way. 
 Of that he had none, nor, I think, more riding than falls 
 to the lot of an Adjutant of a Highland regiment. 
 
-58- 
 
 <2 ' , ;e brought hj e of the strongest of 
 
 our ii '.and countries, and he took to hunti once. 
 
 a rode cheap horses am long days, a 
 
 generally see bo me stale, yet he i] 
 saw It well. Often I wondered ' it. 
 day I four 1J Hoping beside hi i, close to 
 hounds, up a long, steeply-sloping grass fie] . t the 
 top, sta ' out on the sky-line, n - 1 and 
 
 ost forbidding- looking fence. There te and 
 
 no gap; H ' not see. to atter you hac Lt, it 
 . s nasty eve ire. 
 
 I looked at ray friend's horse and, at a rous 
 estimate, put hi three parts heat. ing that 
 
 ot quite realise what he was in for, I called 
 to hi "We shall both take it ho at the top of the 
 hill.' 1 "Yes, ! ' he replied, 1: the most matter-of-fact 
 way, "I suppose we shall." 
 
 he plodded steadily on, drove at the fence, t( 
 a fairly 11, lost not a ' be in get < i ig up, 
 jumped on i Lorse, and proceeded in the e of 
 
 hout another wor . , that is the sort of 
 spirit that takes a man to hounds on all sorts of horses 
 and in' all sorts of countries. 
 
 I may add I was riding a very brilliant horse and 
 had no intention of falling erely s;v Ln e" out of 
 politeness. ven so, I on] just got oi ith a "peck". 
 
 piickness at the start is essential for ev an 
 who wants to ride his own line, and no doubt is even 
 moro essential for heavy than light weights. ith a 
 Dig field out you must gallop at once, whatever your 
 weight, hut when the field ir small a light -weir' 
 a fast horse can afford a little time. But he must 
 
 ounds closel:/", a nd. be reaay to take a front seat 
 if they really settle to run. 
 
 The quickest hen - " t at a start I ever saw \ 
 ole friend Tom Atkinson, of G-lenwilliar , to whose 
 help and judgment I owe many a good Irish hunter. To 
 
-59- 
 
 see him thunder down from a Limerick hillside gorse 
 on one of his enormous horses and rocket over the wall 
 or bank at the bottom was a sight not easily forgotten. 
 I at least could never catch him until the weight began 
 to tell and the big horse to tire; but, tired or not, 
 it had to go on galloping and jumping. I don't think 
 I ever lured him on to the scales, but am certain he 
 was giving me, at a low estimate, not less than eight 
 stone. He had mastered the truth that horses can give 
 away weight, but not distance, and was, I believe, 
 admitted to be one of the best heavy-weights in Ireland. 
 
 With a nice free nunter that has come perfectly to 
 hand, it is quite easy, and may at times be useful, to 
 jump fences on the slant; not to ride at them straight, 
 but to take them at an angle. At quite small fences, if 
 you are in a great hurry, you can save ground by doing 
 this, but you must take care there is nobody near you 
 or you may get knocked over. I have more than once 
 found it very useful in the old-fashioned type of point- 
 to-point races, when there was only one flag and you had 
 to get to it by the shortest route you could find. 
 
 In these days of tarred and slippery roads it is 
 again of value to be able to jump into them on the slant. 
 If there is a narrow grass siding and you land on it, 
 pointing in the direction you want to go, you can complete 
 the turn on the grass before coming on to the slippery 
 surface. But if you go straight in, your horse is on the 
 tar at once, tries to turn on it, and a fall is almost 
 inevitable, and such roads are nasty hard falling. I 
 have only tried this plan over small fences, when jumping 
 either from field to field or into roads, but I have read 
 that Asheton Smith, the mighty hunter, adopted it when 
 riding at very high, strong timber, on the grounds that, 
 so ridden, his horses gave him less dangerous falls. 
 
 If you want to go straight in and out of a lane or 
 road, select a weak place or hole to go out at, and 
 chance the fence in. Any horse will jump into a road, 
 but it requires a very resolute one to jump out if the 
 fence is black and strong. . I have found this tip very 
 useful in point-to-point racing, and have seen many refu- 
 sals in that class of racing owing to the neglect of it. 
 
-60- 
 
 I always think a great deal of nonsense is talked 
 (I speak, of course, as a light -weight ) about ' Lng 
 *ses at drops. If you cone to a f- ' Lg flying 
 
 fence with a drop on the landing side, then of course 
 there is a jar, and you cannot collect your horse too 
 carefully or lie too far hack in your le as you 
 land. Remember it is very little use lying back in 
 your saddle if you stick your feet out in front of 
 you: as you lie back they must be bac too, or 
 all the jar comes into your stirrups. If at such a 
 fence, as. your horse almost ;ers from the shock 
 of lam 5 , you j< ell on to his neck or he 
 
 to your thrust-forward stirrups, you are of con- 
 siderab] istance in toppling " over, or at the 
 best adding to the .jar a: risl of injury. 
 
 Lut in jumping a clover horse down into a deep 
 lane or such-like place, there is very little risk of 
 hurtin ; hi or of a fall. 4 - such places the fence is 
 often weak and you c ill your horse into it and and 
 then drop hi I have had some horses that seemed 
 
 to have the knack of landing as lightly as a bird, and 
 they were always ready to jump down any reasonab 
 height, clear proof that it did hot .jar them. Vith a 
 horse that gets nervous and makes a Lid, hurriei ju , 
 it is altogether another matter. It is, I thinl , at 
 such places that the man who "makes" his own horses an 
 rides them too, in mild bits, has an ;e. 
 
 fore leaving the subject of ri iing to hounds, 
 one word on "bucking," or "s " ;," as it is now 
 called. Believe me, it is best n lone. It is 
 so fatally eas:^ to talk about your horse and his 
 wonderful powers, and incidentally to it a 
 
 derful rider he has, but con't do it. I really 
 think men in the hunting field are more correctly 
 reckoned up tl. here else. If you go well you 
 11 get the credit L1 out a ' 'or it. 
 
 len I have noted who have been underestimated are 
 the very one- who are always explainir 
 go. I don't deny for a re are so 
 
 ood o "swank", but I am sure all their 
 real friends wish they wouldn't. 
 
I remember once eomin J ^ Londc ith a 
 'rlage full of lunti , and. one n 
 rays full of his own prowes s irning to tell 
 us about he had been in, ■■'•est of us having 
 been out with ;k. Just get tj 
 
 fairly under . hen a quiet voice fro corner 
 inter d: ] tirae for i J ~ all; 
 
 on fro "umped the locked gate an 
 
 then ontirel;- to yourself." ore of 
 
 t run . 
 
 •00O00- 
 
-32- 
 
 CHAPTBR VIII 
 
 But the player may strain every finger in vain, 
 And the fiddler may rosin his how, 
 i.or flourish nor string such a rapture shall bring 
 As the music of sweet Tally-no '. 
 
 YTB - ^LVILLE. 
 
 If I began to write on the advantages of fox- 
 hunting over all other sports, I should fill pages 
 and possibly become extremely tedious; so, remembering 
 Sam Y.'eller's remark with reference to the differing of 
 tastes accounting for the existence of fancy waistcoats, 
 I will refrain. 
 
 But one thing I will say, and that is that fox- 
 hunting "stays" with those who really love it in an 
 extraordinary way. Some of the keenest men I nave 
 known have ranged from seventy-five to eignty-five, 
 and I could even name men at, or over, the former age 
 who would take on strong timber with the best of the 
 rising generation. 
 
 It stays with us, too, in another way - it stays 
 in our memories. For myself, I know I remember the 
 really brilliant hunts I have seen far better than I 
 remember anything else, far better than chase or race, 
 even if lucky enough to get home first. I am sure I 
 am not peculiar in this, for I have often met men with 
 whom I have ridden a good hunt, years afterwards, and 
 found they recollected every detail just as vividly as 
 I did. 
 
 Some of the best and keenest men I have known, men 
 who "stay", and are a stay to their own hunts, are not 
 men who ever care for crashing along in front and cutting 
 out the work. That is grand fun for these whose tastes 
 lie that way, but there is many a real good sportsman 
 who does not care for it. I have noticed, too, that the 
 men who do most for their hunts are not always those who 
 are most conspicuous when hounds run hard. So that, 
 while admiring and giving due credit to the gallant souls 
 who are always ready to go in front and cut out the work, 
 let no one sneer at good sportsmen who nave no such am- 
 bitions. 
 
-63- 
 
 I have hunted with fox-hounds in many countries, 
 good, had, and indifferent, but however small or easy 
 they were to cross, I have never been in one of which 
 some local enthusiast did not remark to me: "if a 
 horse can cross this country, he can cross any country". 
 I never presumed to difTer, for I like the local en- 
 thusiast, and have much -.ore respect for him than for 
 the man who only shoots in his own country and dashes 
 off to the shires to hunt, doing little or nothing 
 for his local pack, in some extreme cases failing even 
 to keep a fox in his home covers. Such a man is 
 beneath contempt, and I should enjoy seeing the local 
 enthusiast jump on him. 
 
 In the above remark, however, if you substitute 
 "man" for "horse", you will not be far from the truth. 
 The man who thinks for himself and finds his own way 
 over country when hounds run will go just as well in 
 one country as another. Take a good man from the 
 provinces, put him down in the shires, with the right 
 stamp of horse , and he will take his usual plac . . It 
 may take him a day or two to get used to slipping the 
 crov;d - the crowd who have no wish to go, and who get 
 in the way - but after that, on a fast "big- jumped" 
 horse, as they say in Ireland, he will find it .ost 
 probably rather easier to ride his own line than at 
 home. For the shires are made to be ridden over, so 
 to speak, and on the right type of horse it is easier 
 to get to hounds in those favoured localities than in 
 many provincial countries. 
 
 It would seem very probable in the future that 
 men will more often have to selecb one sport and stick 
 to it. The class of man who hunted, raced, shot and 
 fished, who was able to 5:0 in for all sports, will 
 hardly be so numerous as in the past. 
 
 If a man finds he can only afford one sport, and 
 selects hunting (to me it seems incredible that anyone 
 should not, but that, I know, is being narrow-minded), 
 he can get far more joy and pleasure out of it by really 
 1 trying to understand the noble science. During these 
 (Jl glorious autumn mornings in the big woods with the cubs 
 he can learn so much about fox-hunting. There are 
 usually only a few out, and one c:. ; n often be of use to 
 the officials of the hunt, end it is a good chance to 
 study the hounds in their work and learn to know some of 
 the . Knowing at least a few of the best hounds and 
 watching them in their work always adds to one's pleasure 
 
-64- 
 
 These joys the men who were busy with other- sports 
 until well on into November never realised. There is 
 no shadow of doubt about this fact - the more a man 
 learns about fox-hunting, the more he will enjoy it. 
 
 And how much, too, a really keen man can do to 
 help the sport in his own neighbourhood by setting a 
 good example in the hunting field. kindly word of 
 thanks for any little service rendered, an occasional 
 half-crown to back it, a prompt apology and payment for 
 any concrete bit of damage done by the individual, such 
 as a smashed gate or stile, puts the matter right. 
 
 A little care to get round stock, so as to prevent 
 them getting out of a field; or, if they have slipped 
 out, a little time spent in getting them back or penning 
 them in elsewhere. Consider the trouble we give when, 
 by leaving a gate open, we let a couple of horses oat of 
 a field into a high-road. They may go almost any dis- 
 tance, and it may mean two days' work or more for a man 
 before they are found and got home. Then, too, when 
 riding about the country, both when hounds are not run- 
 ning and when they are, I would urge on everyone always 
 to consider how they can avoid doing damage. One could 
 fill pages with instances of want of thought which must 
 be very annoying to the farmer. There is a certain 
 class of rider who is always in a desperate hurry when 
 it involves cutting across the corner of a wheatfield 
 or something of that sort, yet whose hurry dies away 
 when he comes to a fence, where he will patiently await 
 his turn to walk through a gap; such men always seem 
 to me very contemptible. 
 
 Then, too, beware of excitability and swearing at 
 large. Some men seem to think that because they are 
 out hunting they may swear at anyone. It is certainly 
 very annoying when a man won't open a gate or let you 
 through his yard, but much more can be done by going 
 and having a quiet talk with him than by swearing when 
 both you and he have your tempers up. 
 
 I could quote several cases to prove the harm that 
 excited abuse has done to hunting; one especially remains 
 in my memory. A small landholder was rather slow in 
 going to open a gate, and the gate proved diffic\ilt to 
 open. An excited member of the field, irritated by the 
 delay, abused the man. Now, the small-holder was un- 
 fortunately both bad-tempered and well off. He 
 
-65- 
 
 promptly put a wire fence all round his property, kept 
 his gates locked, and warned hounds off. 
 
 The sad thing about it was that the man who did 
 all the harm was a keen, good sportsman, with charming 
 manners except when he got excited out hunting. For 
 years, though, the matter could not be put ri I . I 
 have known even more trivial things put men against 
 hunting, and very often they nurse their grievance and 
 won't tell anyone what it is. 
 
 All cannot subscribe largely, but all who are keen 
 can help the hunt in many little ways. As I have 
 already said, it seems certain, too, that expenses will 
 go up and subscriptions will have to oe increased. 
 After all, our subscriptions have in the past been a 
 very small part of our expenses. This proportion will 
 have to be altered. young man too often lavishes 
 money on his horses, on his clothes, and in Londo 
 during a frost, and gives a very inadequate subscription 
 to hounds. 
 
 As for horses, we cannot go without them, but we 
 may have to do with a smaller and cheaper stud and 
 produce a bigger subscription. The man with a small 
 stud, who rides his horses about in the summer and 
 takes them cub-hunting, has an advantage over the man 
 with the big stud, who hurries down after the season 
 has begun, and hardly nows one of bis horses from 
 another. He at least misses the great pleasure of 
 getting his horses perfectly to hand, so that they do 
 exactly what he wants in the way he wants. 
 
 //hyte Melville, in his very fascinating "Riding 
 Recollections," gives the following vivid description 
 bearing on this point. (I would go bail that the 
 reverend gentleman in question had onl;^ a small stud, 
 and did not leave the exercising of them entirely to 
 grooms ) . 
 
 "I remember," he writes, "seeing the Rev. John 
 er, an extraordinarily fine rider of the last 
 generation, hand his horse over an ugly iron-bound stile 
 on to some stepping-stones, with a drop of six or seven 
 feet, into a Leicestershire lane, as calmly as if the 
 animal had ceen a lad- tie was taking out for a walk. 
 
 "He pulled it jack into a trot, sitting very 
 close and quiet, with his hand raised two or three 
 inches above the withers, and I can still 
 
w 
 
 -66- 
 
 recall, as if I had seen it yesterday, the curve of 
 neck and quarters, as, gently mouthing the bit, that 
 well-broken hunter poised lightly for its spring, and, 
 landing in the sane collected form, picked its way 
 daintily, step by step down the declivity, like a cat.' 1 
 
 Such perfection of understanding between horse 
 and rider can only, I think, be arrived at by the man 
 who has a small stud of which he is complete master - 
 that he has, in fact, made to his hand. I would 
 argue that to have such a perfect animal is a great 
 joy and, if achieved, should more than compensate for 
 the necessity of a bigger subscription and a smaller 
 stud. 
 
 It is very easy to have too large a stud, which 
 means a number of horses alwa-^s short of work and 
 above themselves in condition. Horses in that state 
 are never at their best or pleasant to ride. In 
 fact, the only advantage I can see in a big stud, apart 
 from the pleasure of mounting friends, is that in spite 
 of any run of bad stable luck, you can always go hunt- 
 ing. A man with only four or five horses, if sport has 
 been good and he has been really shoving them along, 
 may easily find himself with nothing to ride for a time. 
 
 Still, a small stud saves much money, and the 
 owner will be better carried. I have often thought 
 second horses might u r ell be abolished. Second horse- 
 men do much harm, add to the expense, and when one good 
 stout hunter is tired, his rider has had a good day's 
 sport. Then, too, if none of us had second horses, 
 after a good hunt in the morning we should all ride 
 with less liberality and dash in the afternoon, use 
 our heads more and nurse our horses, but we should see 
 the sport nevertheless. Also we should find out which 
 are the really stout, staying hunters, their blood 
 would be sought after, and our breed of stayrers, not 
 too plentiful, improved. 
 
 When second horses are used, no Mian should be 
 allowed to ride as second horseman until he has received 
 careful instruction as to shutting all gates, avoiding 
 damage to crops, together with a few hints as to his 
 general behaviour in the hunting field. 
 
 To show how little some men know of their large 
 studs, I can quote a case of a good out very wealthy 
 sportsman who, after a quick thing in which he had 
 gone well, remarked to a friend: iat a nailer this 
 
-67- 
 
 mare is! She is the only one I ever have a real go on 
 now." His friend replied that no doubt the animal was 
 a "nailer," but it did not happen to be a mare. It 
 turned out that not only had he mistaken his favourite 
 mare, when changing horses, for a gelding, but for a 
 gelding in which he had no confidence whatever! The 
 man of the small stud, who has to make his own hunters, 
 is at least saved from that kind of mistake. 
 
 It is a great point to dress properly for hunting. 
 .-. red coat is a passport in all the countryside., and 
 villagers like to see a smart turn-out. But again 
 subscriptions must come before clothes. n old song 
 runs in my head - 
 
 If my life should depend on the wager, 
 I know not which brother I'd bac . 
 The Parson, the Squire, or the Major, 
 The Red, or the Pink, or the Black. 
 
 We may be perfectly certain the major, who no doubt 
 was in a smart cavalry regiment, spent more on his hunt- 
 ing kit than the parson brother, but it does not appear 
 to have given him any advantage when hounds ran. 
 
 So that if the proposition is accepted that hunting 
 can only be carried on in these days if subscriptions 
 come first , it can be shown that we shall not lose much 
 individually by that. on one considers, too, what 
 one can get for a hunt subscription, who can deny that 
 if they have to be very greatly increased we shall still, 
 if we have any real love of hunting, get our money's 
 worth in full? 
 
 Consider, for one thing, how long the sport lasts. 
 If you don't mind early rising, you can begin v/ith cub- 
 hunting in September, even earlier with some packs. 
 
 Then comes the regular season in November, and, 
 bar a frost, you can keep steadily at it to at least 
 the end of larch. And even a short frost is sometimes 
 welcome to the owner of a hard-worked little stud. 
 
 Hunting, too, is the most democratic of all sports, 
 and brings together good fellows of all classes. The 
 penniless younger son may take a better place on his 
 
-68- 
 
 cheap hunter, when hounds run, than the lord-lieutenant 
 on a five-hundred guinea one. The smallest farmer 
 can ride clean away from the biggest landlord, provided 
 he is the better man. 
 
 Money tells in providing good hunters, but it 
 also provides French cooks and too many luxuries, and 
 that soon takes away the nerve to make use of them. 
 To really enjoy hunting, we must keep ourselves fit 
 and hard. 
 
 There is no sport like it on this old earth of 
 ours, and I often think of the remark made to me by 
 an enthusiast I met in Rio Janeiro, of all strange 
 places: "I have been over a great deal of the world," 
 said he, "in search of sport, but when all is said 
 and done, give me the little stinking fox." 
 
 ■ooOoo- 
 
-e>y- 
 
 •-PTER IX. 
 
 He guides them in covert, he leads them in chase; 
 Though the young and the jealous try hard for his place, 
 •Tis Bachelor always is first in the race. 
 He beats them for nose and he beats them for pace. 
 
 " ELVILI . 
 
 It has been suggested and would be, I think, a 
 very excellent plan if everyone were obliged, before 
 going fox-hunting, to pass a little examination and 
 answer a few simple questions on the noble sport. 
 
 One thing that I would try to impress on every 
 lad who takes seriously to hunting is this: from the 
 time hounds move off from the meet until they go home, 
 keep your "whole attention concentrated on the- . If 
 a lad begins in this way from the first, it will soon 
 become a habit, and, almost without knowing it, he will 
 find himself always on the alert and watchful. So 
 much, too, can be done by every individual member of 
 the field, if his attention is really fixed on the 
 sport, to make the work of the hunt servants less try- 
 ing. Both the huntsman and his hounds and the whippers- 
 in have constantly to pass through the "field." If 
 you are on the look-out and make way for them, it makes 
 their work much easier, and the example one man sets in 
 making way is quickly followed by others. 
 
 It is always worth while trying to help the hunt 
 servants in any way, and they appreciate it. They 
 are good fellows, and many a kindly hint have they 
 given me from time to time, and they alone, of all men, 
 are worth attending to if they drop a word in the 
 morning as to what sort of scent to expect. Fro : 
 coming on with hounds and knowing them so well, they 
 can sometimes form a fairly sound opinion on that 
 mysterious essence. 
 
 As well as always being ready to make way in lane 
 or roadway, be careful, unless you have the utmost 
 
-70- 
 
 confidence in your horse, to turn him so that he can- 
 not kick at hounds when the pack is passing yon . A 
 kick that kills a good hound is very quickly and easily 
 given, and then you have done a terrible thing. I 
 remember once riding home after a good hunt with Tom 
 Bishop, who was then hunting the Grafton. He talked 
 for long of one particular dog-hound - let us call him 
 Bachelor - who that day had done some very fine work 
 down a road. It was easy to see what absolute con- 
 fidence he had in the hound, and pride he took 
 in his stoutness and nose. The very next day the bitch 
 pack was out - for Bachelor ran with the bitches - the 
 poor hound was kicked by a newcomer's horse and killed 
 dead. Our long talk as we rode hone made me realise 
 the tragedy of it. 
 
 It is an absolute obligation on anyone riding young 
 horses to take the greatest care that his youngster is 
 given no chance to kick hounds. In a wood one has to 
 be extra careful : as hoimds come bounding out on to 
 the rides they are apt to frighten a horse, and a fright- 
 ened horse kicks. It is generally easy to tell, from 
 the direction a huntsman is drawing, what rides the 
 hounds will break into, and then to take precautions. 
 If you keep "at" a horse's mouth he will seldo: kick, 
 but if he makes the attempt punish him severely. It 
 is not difficult, as a rule, to cure horses of kicking; 
 but better still, never let them begin. Have dogs 
 about in the stable and take them : I you when you 
 
 ■e hacking, and send them to exercise with the horses. 
 Best of all, walk a couple of foxhound puppies: young 
 horses soon get accustomed to hounds then. 
 
 I often think that if people who hunt would always 
 try to be on the look-out to help things on, instead of 
 being so ready to criticise, it would be an exceedingly 
 good change. One gets so weary of criticism that is 
 ignorant, and I have noticed that those who know most 
 ss.j least. There are probably not more than three or 
 four huntsmen with real genius hunting hounds in Great 
 Britain at any given time. Yet certain folk are not 
 content with a good hardworking huntsman, who shows 
 them good sport when there is good scent and he has a 
 fair chance : they grumble away, and seem to think that 
 every pack they choose to hunt with is entitled to a 
 first-class heaven-sent genius. How often, in my 
 
-71- 
 
 long hunting life, have I listened to this sort of thing: 
 'New, what on earth is our idiot of a huntsman doing? 
 
 Anyone could tell his fox - By Jove, they've hit it! 
 
 Gome on ! " 
 
 Of course, if they don't hit it, the lecture on 
 hunting goes on, and if by any chance the critic's idea 
 happens to be right (and he can't be wrong every time), 
 he is so pleased with himself as to be a positive 
 nuisance for the rest of the day. hen they do hit it, 
 as likely as not he dashes off and, unless checked, 
 presses hounds before they have again reall?r settled 
 on the line. 
 
 At a check you usually see people coming up, 
 determined not to pull up until they are .lust a little 
 bit in front of where the leaders have stopped; this 
 is most unsporting. Say that three or four men, who 
 have really been with hounds, pull up, they are not 
 in the least likely to have given hounds too much room, 
 so why cannot their followers accept the situation and 
 stay a little behind them? That was the position 
 when hounds were running, and there is nothing very 
 clever or daring in taking the lead at a check. 
 
 Let your rule be to pull up in good time when 
 leading, to pull up hehind the leaders when you are 
 not, and in either case to keep your mouth shut. A 
 lot of people talking does not help hounds or huntsman. 
 
 Ladies are great offenders, not entirely from 
 their own fault. If they are properly "entered" - 
 that is to say, if they have a relative or friend who 
 knows all about the sport of fox-hunting, and studies 
 how to avoid doing damage to crops, and who will pass 
 on his knowledge to them, then all is well. I have 
 noticed that women so educated are quite as thoughtful 
 for hounds, hunt servants, and farmers' interests as 
 any man, if not more so. 
 
 But such women are rather the exception. If an 
 ignorant lad comes out, he will soon get well sworn at 
 if he does stupid things; but most men are very loath 
 to find fault with women in the hunting field. There- 
 fore the woman who is not well "entered" has much less 
 chance of learning how to behave from being cursed at 
 large than a man has. 
 
-72- 
 
 So it is up to the ladies, I think, to make a 
 point of learning something about hunting, if they 
 mean to hunt, and they can then do much for the sport 
 by their influence and by setting a good example. 
 They might also remember that their dear favourite 
 horses hurt people just as much when they kick them 
 as if they were ordinary hunters! Ladies will not, 
 as a rule, punish their horses for kicking; they are 
 too gentle with them. 
 
 The position of M.P.H. is not all fun; try to 
 make it as easy as possible. He is sure to have to 
 swear at you sometimes. Nobody goes hunting who does 
 not do some stupid things, and you may get sworn at, 
 too, when you are not to blame; but in any case take 
 it all in good part and bear no ill-will. I must add 
 the most perfectly controlled fields I have ever known 
 have been worked on the quiet system, without any 
 yelling or swearing. 
 
 I think any old Grafton man will bear me out when 
 I say that no man ever controlled a field better than 
 the present Lord Penrhyn. He not only never swore, 
 but very seldom spoke. Ee was always in the right 
 place when wanted, and had only to hold up his hand. 
 
 A master with a jealous temperament is the hardest 
 of all to bear with; jealousy is not wanted in the 
 hunting field. The jealous hound who, when leading, 
 will go on when he knows he is off the line, trying to 
 carry the pack with him, is best hung. The jealous 
 rider who is always read y to spoil sport, provided he 
 can establish the fact that he really is in front of 
 everybody else, can't be hung, but a good many people 
 often wish he could. 
 
 All lads, of course, should know the unwritten law 
 that 7^ou must not gallop in the wake of hounds; it 
 makes them wild. An equally well-known but often 
 ignored law is that which prevents your going on if 
 any man has got down to pull open a gate, or anything 
 of that sort, until he is in the saddle again. It is 
 not sufficient to shoot past, saying as you do so, "Can 
 you get up all right?" taking great care at the same 
 time not hear his answer. No, yoii ought really to wait 
 
 Englishmen are, as a rule, very slow at getting 
 
-73- 
 
 into the saddle, partly, of course, owing to the kit 
 they ride in. But any lithe, active lad Can learn 
 to vault into the saddle if he takes a little trouble 
 over it, and it is well worth learning. It will save 
 time in a hunt, and may make the difference between 
 winning and losing a point-to-point. 
 
 But what I would most of all try to impress on 
 the youngster is this: if you want really to enjoy 
 hunting, to ride straight and well to hounds when 
 you are young, and follow the sport from a less ambitious 
 position when you grow old - learn really to love and 
 understand it - read books tnat will explain the art of 
 hunting, listen to and question men who really know, 
 and, above all, watch hounds and keep your attention 
 en the sport while you are out. 
 
 Never be in a hurry to holloa if a fox breads 
 cover near you. Let him get well away before you 
 holloa, or you may turn him back into tne cover. Ho 
 rule is more often broken. 
 
 When hounds have run a fox into a cover or wood, 
 and you view a fox away, then indeed you ,.iust be care- 
 ful. Remember what Beckford says: "Changing from a 
 hunted fox to a fresh one is one of the worst accidents 
 that can happen to a pack of foxiiounds." 
 
 If you are not certain that the fox you have viewed 
 is the hunted one, don't holloa, but go at once to the 
 master or huntsman, tell him you have viewed a fox 
 away, and give your opinion for what it is worth. If 
 you describe the fox accurately it will be a great 
 help, and he is almost certain at some period of the 
 hunt to have been already viewed either by tne master 
 or the servants. 
 
 Let me close with one more quotation from Beckford, 
 which we may all take to heart: "Whoever has followed 
 hounds has seen them frequently hurried beyond the scent.' 
 
 So, leaving that warning to sink in, farewell and 
 good hunting'. 
 
 THE E1ID. 
 

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