When your horse baulks, or is a little excited, if he wants to start quickly, or looks around and doesn't want to go, there is something wrong, and he needs kind treatment immediately. Caress him kindly, and if he doesn't understand at once what you want him to do, he will not be so much excited as to jump and break things, and do everything wrong through fear. As long as you are calm, and keep down the excitement of the horse, there are ten chances that you will make him understand you, where there would not be one under harsh treatment; and then the little flare up will not carry with it any unfavourable recollections, and he will soon forget all about it, and learn to pull truly. Almost every wrong act the horse commits is from mismanagement, fear, or excitement: one harsh word will so excite a nervous horse as to increase his pulse ten beats in a minute.

When we remember that we are dealing with dumb brutes, and reflect how difficult it must be for them to understand our motions, signs, and language, we should never get out of patience with them because they don't understand us, or wonder at their doing things wrong. With all our intellect, if we were placed in the horse's situation, it would be difficult for us to understand the driving of some foreigner, of foreign ways and foreign language. We should always recollect that our ways and language are just as foreign and unknown to the horse as any language in the world is to us, and should try to practise what we could understand were we the horse, endeavouring by some simple means to work on his understanding rather than on the different parts of his body. All baulked horses can be started true and steady in a few minutes' time: they are all willing to pull as soon as they know how, and I never yet found a baulked horse that I could not teach to start his load in fifteen, and often less than three, minutes' time.

Almost any team, when first baulked, will start kindly if you let them stand five or ten minutes as though there was nothing wrong, and then speak to them with a steady voice, and turn them a little to the right or left, so as to get them both in motion before they feel the pinch of the load. But if you want to start a team that you are not driving yourself, that has been baulked, fooled, and whipped for some time, go to them and hang the lines on their hames, or fasten them to the waggon, so that they will be perfectly loose; make the driver and spectators (if there are any) stand off some distance to one side, so as not to attract the attention of the horses; unloose their check-reins, so that they can get their heads down if they choose; let them stand a few minutes in this condition until you can see that they are a little composed. While they are standing, you should be about their heads, gentling them: it will make them a little more kind, and the spectators will think that you are doing something that they do not understand, and will not learn the secret. When you have them ready to start, stand before them, and, as you seldom have but one baulky horse in a team, get as near in front of him as you can, and, if he is too fast for the other horse, let his nose come against your breast: this will keep him steady, for he will go slow rather than run on you. Turn them gently to the right, without letting them pull on the traces as far as the tongue will let them go: stop them with a kind word, gentle them a little, and then turn them back to the left, by the same process. You will then have them under your control by this time; and as you turn them again to the right, steady them in the collar, and you can take them where you please.

There is a quicker process that will generally start a baulky horse, but not so sure. Stand him a little ahead, so that his shoulders will be against the collar; and then take up one of his fore feet in your hand, and let the driver start them, and when the weight comes against his shoulders he will try to step: then let him have his foot, and he will go right along. If you want to break a horse from baulking that has long been in that habit, you ought to set apart a half-day for that purpose. Put him by the side of some steady horse; have driving reins on them; tie up all the traces and straps, so that there will be nothing to excite them; do not rein them up, but let them have their heads loose. Walk them about together for some time as slowly and lazily as possible; stop often, and go up to your baulky horse and gentle him. Do not take any whip about him, or do anything to excite him, but keep him just as quiet as you can. He will soon learn to start off at the word, and stop whenever you tell him.

As soon as he performs rightly, hitch him in an empty waggon; have it standing in a favourable position for starting. It would be well to shorten the trace-chain behind the steady horse, so that, if it is necessary, he can take the weight of the waggon the first time you start them. Do not drive more than a few rods at first; watch your jibbing horse closely, and if you see that he is getting excited, stop him before he stops of his own accord, caress him a little, and start again. As soon as they go well, drive them over a small hill a few times, and then over a larger one, occasionally adding a little load. This process will make any horse true to pull.

The following anecdote from Scrutator's "Horses and Hounds," illustrates the soundness of Mr. Rarey's system:—"A gentleman in our neighbourhood having purchased a very fine carriage horse, at a high price, was not a little annoyed, upon trial, to find that he would not pull an ounce, and when the whip was applied he began plunging and kicking. After one or two trials the coachman declared he could do nothing with him, and our neighbour, meeting my father, expressed his grievances at being thus taken in, and asked what he had better do. The reply was 'Send the horse to me tomorrow morning, and I will return him a good puller within a week.' The horse being brought, was put into the shafts of a wagon, in a field, with the hind wheels tied, and being reined up so that he could not get his head between his legs, was there left, with a man to watch him for five or six hours, and, of course, without any food. When my father thought he had enough of standing still, he went up to him with a handful of sweet hay, let down the bearing rein, and had the wheels of the wagon released. After patting the horse on the neck, when he had taken a mouthful or two of hay, he took hold of the bridle and led him away—the wagon followed—thus proving stratagem to be better than force. Another lesson was scarcely required, but, to make sure, it was repeated, and, after that, the horse was sent back to the owner. There was no complaint ever made of his jibbing again. The wagon to which he was attached was both light and empty, and the ground inclined rather towards the stable."

FOOTNOTES:

[106-*] A much more severe disease in America than in England.—EDIT.



CHAPTER VIII.

Value of good horsemanship to both sexes.—On teaching children.—Anecdote.—Havelock's opinion.—Rarey's plan to train ponies.—The use of books.—Necessity of regular teaching for girls, boys can be self-taught.—Commence without a bridle.—Ride with one pair of reins and two hands.—Advantage of hunting-horn on side-saddle.—On the best plan for mounting.—Rarey's plan.—On a man's seat.—Nolan's opinion.—Military style.—Hunting style.—Two examples in Lord Cardigan.—The Prussian style.—Anecdote by Mr. Gould, Blucher, and the Prince Regent.—Hints for men learning to ride.—How to use the reins.—Pull right for right, and left for left.—How to collect your horse.

You cannot learn to ride from a book, but you may learn how to do some things and how to avoid many things of importance. Those who know all about horses and horsemanship, or fancy they do, will not read this chapter. But as there are riding-schools in the City of London, where an excellent business is done in teaching well-grown men how to ride for health or fashion, and as papas who know their own bump-bump style very well often desire to teach their daughters, I have collected the following instructions from my own experience, now extending over full thirty years, on horses of all kinds, including the worst, and from the best books on the subject, some of the best being anonymous contributions by distinguished horsemen, printed for private circulation. Every man and woman, girl and boy, who has the opportunity, should learn to ride on horseback. It is almost an additional sense—it is one of the healthiest exercises—it affords amusement when other amusements fail—relaxation from the most severe toil, and often, in colonies or wild countries, the only means of travelling or trading.

A man feels twice a man on horseback. The student and the farmer meet, when mounted, the Cabinet Minister and the landlord on even terms—good horsemanship is a passport to acquaintances in all ranks of life, and to make acquaintances is one of the arts of civilised life; to ripen them into use or friendship is another art. On horseback you can call with less ceremony, and meet or leave a superior with less form than on foot. Rotten Row is the ride of idleness and pleasure, but there is a great deal of business done in sober walks and slow canters, commercial, political, and matrimonial.

For a young lady not to be able to ride with a lover is a great loss; not to be able to ride with a young husband a serious privation.

The first element for enjoying horse exercise is good horsemanship. Colonel Greenwood says very truly:—"Good riding is worth acquiring by those whose pleasure or business it is to ride, because it is soon and easily acquired, and, when acquired, it becomes habitual; and it is as easy, nay, much more easy, and infinitely more safe, than bad riding." "Good riding will last through age, sickness, and decrepitude, but bad riding will last only as long as youth, health, and strength supply courage; for good riding is an affair of skill, but bad riding is an affair of courage."

A bold bad rider must not be merely brave; he must be fool-hardy; for he is perpetually in as much danger as a blind man among precipices.

In riding, as in most other things, danger is for the timid and the unskilful. The skilful rider, when apparently courting danger in the field, deserves no more credit for courage than for sitting in an arm-chair, and the unskilful no more the imputation of timidity for backwardness than if without practice he declined to perform on the tight-rope. Depend upon it, the bold bad rider is the hero.

There is nothing heroic in good riding, when dissected. The whole thing is a matter of detail—a collection of trifles—and its principles are so simple in theory and so easy in practice that they are despised.

It is an accomplishment that may, to a certain extent, be acquired late in life. I know instances in both sexes of a fair firm seat having been acquired under the pressure of necessity after forty years of age (I could name lawyers, sculptors, architects, and sailors), but it may be acquired with ease and perfection in youth, and it is most important that no awkward habits should be acquired.

Children who have courage may be taught to ride almost as soon as they can walk. On the Pampas of South America you may see a boy seven years old on horseback, driving a herd of horses, and carrying a baby in his arms!

I began my own lessons at four, when I sat upon an old mare in the stall while the groom polished harness or blacked his boots. Mr. Nathaniel Gould, who, at upwards of seventy years, and sixteen stone weight, can still ride hunting for seven or eight hours at a stretch, mentions, in his observations on horses and hunting,[114-*] that a nephew of his followed the Cheshire fox-hounds at seven years of age. "His manner of gathering up his reins was most singular, and his power of keeping his seat, with his little legs stretched horizontally along the saddle, quite surprising." The hero Havelock, writing to his little boy, says, "You are now seven years old, and ought to learn to ride. I hope to hear soon that you have made progress in that important part of your education. Your uncle William (a boy-hero in the Peninsula) rode well before he was seven years old." The proper commencement for a boy is a pony in which he can interest himself, and on which he may learn to sit as a horseman should.

I particularly warn parents against those broad-backed animals which, however suitable for carrying heavy old gentlemen, or sacks to market, are certainly very uncomfortable for the short legs of little boys, and likely to induce rupture. On a narrow, well-bred pony, of 11 or 12 hands high, a boy of six can sit like a little man. It is cruel to make children ride with bare legs.

Before Rarey introduced his system, there was no satisfactory mode of training those ponies that were too small for a man to mount, unless the owner happened to live near some racing stable, where he could obtain the services of a "feather-weight doll," and then the pony often learned tricks more comic than satisfactory.

By patiently applying the practices explained in the preceding chapters, the smallest and most highly-bred pony may be reduced to perfect docility without impairing its spirit, and taught a number of amusing tricks.

Young ladies may learn on full-sized horses quite as well as on ponies, if they are provided with suitable side-saddles.

A man, or rather a boy, may learn to ride by practice and imitation, and go on tumbling about until he has acquired a firm and even elegant seat, but no lady can ever learn to ride as a lady should ride, without a good deal of instruction; because her seat on horseback is so thoroughly artificial, that without some competent person to tell her of her faults, she is sure to fall into a number of awkward ungraceful tricks. Besides, a riding-school, with its enclosed walls and trained horses, affords an opportunity of going through the preliminary lessons without any of those accidents which on the road, or in a field, are very likely to occur with a raw pupil on a fresh horse. For a young lad to fall on the grass, is not a serious affair, but a lady should never be allowed to run the chance of a fall, because it is likely to destroy the nerve, without which no lessons can be taught successfully. All who have noticed the performances of Amazones in London, or at Brighton, must have in remembrance the many examples of ladies who, with great courage, sit in a manner that is at once fearful and ridiculous to behold; entirely dependent on the good behaviour of horses, which they, in reality, have no power of turning, and scarcely of stopping.

Little girls who learn their first lessons by riding with papa, who is either absorbed in other business, or himself a novice in the art of horsemanship, get into poky habits, which it is extremely difficult to eradicate when they reach the age when every real woman wishes to be admired.

Therefore, let everyone interested in the horsemanship of a young lady commence by placing her, as early as possible, under the tuition of a competent professional riding-master, unless he knows enough to teach her himself. There are many riding-schools where a fair seat is acquired by the lady pupils, but in London, at any rate, only two or three where they learn to use the reins, so as to control an unruly horse.

Both sexes are apt to acquire the habit of holding on by the bridle. To avoid this grave error, the first lessons in walking and cantering should be given to the pupil on a led horse, without taking hold of the bridle; and this should be repeated in learning to leap. The horsemanship of a lady is not complete until she has learned to leap, whether she intends to ride farming or hunting, or to confine herself to Rotten Row canters; for horses will leap and bound at times without permission.

I have high authority for recommending lessons without holding the bridle. Lady Mildred H——, one of the most accomplished horsewomen of the day, taught her daughter to walk, trot, canter, gallop, and leap, without the steadying assistance of the reins.

A second point is, that every pupil in horsemanship should begin by holding the rein or reins (one is enough to begin with) in both hands, pulling to the right when they want to go to the right, and to the left when they wish to go to the left, that is the proper way of riding every strange horse, every colt, and every hunter, that does not perfectly know his business, for it is the only way in which you have any real command over your horse. But almost all our riding-school rules are military. Soldiers are obliged to carry a sword in one hand, and to rely, to a great extent, on the training of their horses for turning right or left. Ladies and gentlemen have no swords to carry, and neither possess, nor can desire to possess, such machines as troop-horses. Besides other more important advantages which will presently be described by commencing with two-handed riding, a lady is more likely to continue to sit squarely, than when holding the reins with one hand, and pretending to guide a horse who really guides himself. A man has the power of turning a horse, to a certain extent, with his legs and spurs; a woman must depend on her reins, whip, and left leg. As only one rein and the whip can be well held in one hand, double reins, except for hunting, are to a lady merely a perplexing puzzle. The best way for a lady is to knot up the snaffle, and hang it over the pommel, and ride with a light hand on the curb.

In order to give those ladies who may not have instruction at hand an idea of a safe, firm, and elegant seat, I have placed at the head of this chapter a woodcut, which shows how the legs should be placed. The third or hunting-horn pommel must be fitted to the rider, as its situation in the saddle will differ, to some extent, according to the length of the lady's legs. I hope my plain speaking will not offend American friends.

The first step is to sit well down on the saddle, then pass the right leg over the upstanding pommel, and let it hang straight down,—a little back, if leaping; if the foot pokes out, the lady has no firm hold. The stirrup must then be shortened, so as to bring the bent thigh next to the knee of the left leg firmly against the under side of the hunting-horn pommel. If, when this is done, an imaginary line were drawn from the rider's backbone, which would go through the centre of the saddle, close to the cantle, she is in her proper place, and leaning rather back than forward, firm and close from the hips downwards, flexible from her hips upwards, with her hands holding the reins apart, a little above the level of her knee, she is in a position at once powerful and graceful. This is a very imperfect description of a very elegant picture. The originals, few and far between, are to be found for nine months of the year daily in Rotten Row. A lady in mounting, should hold the reins in her left hand, and place it on the pommel, the right hand as far over the cantle as she can comfortably reach. If there is no skilful man present to take her foot, make any man kneel down and put out his right knee as a step, and let down the stirrup to be shortened afterwards. Practise on a high chest of drawers!

After all the rules of horsemanship have been perfectly learned, nothing but practice can give the instinct which prepares a rider for the most sudden starts, leaps, and "kickings up behind and before."

The style of a man's seat must, to a certain extent, be settled by his height and shape. A man with short round legs and thighs cannot sit down on his horse like tall thin men, such as Jim Mason, or Tom Oliver, but men of the most unlikely shapes, by dint of practice and pluck, go well in the hunting-field, and don't look ridiculous on the road.

There are certain rules laid down as to the length of a man's stirrup-leathers, but the only good rule is that they should be short enough to give the rider full confidence in his seat, and full power over a pulling horse. For hunting it is generally well to take them up one hole shorter than on the road.

The military directions for mounting are absurd for civilians; in the first place, there ought to be no right side or wrong side in mounting; in both the street and hunting-field it is often most convenient to mount on what is called the wrong side. In the next place horses trained on the Rarey plan (and very soon all horses will be), will stand without thinking of moving when placed by the rider, so that the military direction to stand before the stirrup becomes unnecessary.

The following is Mr. Rarey's plan of mounting for men, which is excellent, but is not described in his book, and indeed is difficult to describe at all.

To mount with the girths slack without bearing on the stirrup.—Take up the reins and a lock of the mane, stand behind the withers looking at your horse's head, put your foot in the stirrup, and while holding the reins in one hand on the neck, place the other open and flat on the other side of the saddle as far down as the edge of the little flap, turn your toe out, so as not to touch the horse's belly, and rise by leaning on your flat hand, thus pressing hard on the side of the saddle opposite to that on which you are mounting. The pressure of your hands will counterbalance your weight, and you will be able to mount without straining the girths, or even without any girths at all. If you are not tall enough to put your foot fairly in the stirrup, use a horse-block, or, better still, a piece of solid wood about eighteen inches high, that can be moved about anywhere.

Young men should learn to leap into the saddle by placing both hands on the cantle, as the horse moves. I have seen Daly, the steeplechaser, who was a little man, do this often in the hunting-field, before he broke his thigh.

With respect to the best model for a seat, I recommend the very large class who form the best customers of riding-school masters in the great towns of England, I mean the gentlemen from eighteen to eight-and-twenty, who begin to ride as soon as they have the means and the opportunity, to study the style of the first-class steeplechase jockeys and gentlemen riders in the hunting-field whenever they have the opportunity. Almost all riding-masters are old dragoons, and what they teach is good as far as it goes, as to general appearance and carriage of the body, but generally the military notions about the use of a rider's arms and legs are utterly wrong.

On this point we cannot have a better authority then that of the late Captain Nolan, who served in the Austrian, Hungarian, and in the English cavalry in India, and who studied horsemanship in Russia, and all other European countries celebrated for their cavalry. He says—

"The difference between a school (viz. an ordinary military horseman) and a real horseman is this, the first depends upon guiding and managing his horse for maintaining his seat; the second depends upon his seat for controlling and guiding his horse. At a trot the school rider, instead of lightly rising to the action of the horse, bumps up and down, falling heavily on the horse's loins, and hanging on the reins to prevent the animal slipping from under him, whilst he is thrown up in his seat."

It is a curious circumstance that the English alone have two styles of horsemanship. The one, natural and useful, formed in the hunting-field; the other, artificial and military, imported from the Continent. If you go into Rotten Row in the season you may see General the Earl of Cardigan riding a trained charger in the most approved military style—the toes in the stirrups, long stirrup-leathers, heels down, legs from the knee carefully clear of the horse's sides—in fact, the balance seat, handed down by tradition from the time when knights wore complete armour and could ride in no other way, for the weight of the armour rendered a fall certain if once the balance was lost; a very grand and graceful style it is when performed by a master of the art of the length of limb of the Earl, or his more brilliant predecessor, the late Marquess of Anglesea. But if you go into Northamptonshire in the hunting season, you may see the same Earl of Cardigan in his scarlet coat, looking twice as thick in the waist, sailing away in the first flight, sitting down on the part intended by nature for a seat, with his knees well bent, and his calves employed in distributing his weight over the horse's back and sides. In the one case the Earl is a real, in the other a show, horseman.

Therefore, when a riding-master tells you that you must ride by balance, "with your body upright, knee drawn back, and the feet in a perpendicular line with the shoulder, and your legs from the knee downward brought away to prevent what is called clinging," listen to him, learn all you can—do not argue, that would be useless—and then take the first opportunity of studying those who are noted for combining an easy, natural seat with grace—that is, if you are built for gracefulness—some people are not. In Nolan's words, "Let a man have a roomy saddle, and sit close to the horse's back; let the leg be supported by the stirrup in a natural position, without being so short as to throw back the thigh, and the nearer the whole leg is brought to the horse the better, so long as the foot is not bent below the ankle-joint."

Soon after the battle of Waterloo, by influence of the Prince Regent, who fancied he knew something about cavalry, a Prussian was introduced to teach our cavalry a new style of equitation, which consisted in entirely abandoning the use of that part of the person in which his Royal Highness was so highly gifted, and riding on the fork like a pair of compasses on a rolling pin, with perfectly straight legs. For a considerable period this ridiculous drill, which deprived the soldiers of all power over their horses, was carried on in the fields where Belgrave Square now stands, and was not abandoned until the number of men who suffered by it was the cause of a serious remonstrance from commanding officers. It is a pity that the reverse system has never been tried, and a regiment of cavalry taught riding on English fox-hunting principles, using the snaffle on the road, and rising in the trot. But it must be admitted that since the war there has been a great improvement in this respect, and there will probably be more as the martinets of the old school die off.

It was not for want of examples of a better style that the continental military style was forced upon our cavalry. Mr. Nathaniel Gould relates in his little book as an instance of what determined hunting-men can do, that—

"When, in the year 1815, Blucher arrived in London and drove at once to Carlton House, I was one of a few out of an immense concourse of horsemen who accompanied his carriage from Shooter's Hill, riding on each side; spite of all obstacles we forced ourselves through the Horse Guards gate and the troop of guardsmen, in like manner through the Light Cavalry and gate at Carlton House, as well as the posse of constables in the court-yard, and drove our horses up the flight of stone steps into the salon, though the guards, beefeaters, and constables arrayed themselves against this irruption of Cossacks, and actually came to the charge. The Prince, however, in the noblest manner waved his hand, and we were allowed to form a circle round the Regent while Blucher had the blue ribbon placed on his shoulders, and was assisted to rise by the Prince in the most dignified manner. His Royal Highness then slightly acknowledged our presence, we backed to the door, and got down the steps again with only one accident, that arising from a horse, which, on being urged forward, took a leap down the whole flight of stairs."

But to return to the subject of a man's seat on horseback. Nolan, quoting Baucher, says, "When first put on horseback, devote a few lessons to making his limbs supple, in the same way that you begin drill on foot with extension motions. Show him how to close up the thigh and leg to the saddle, and then work the leg backwards and forwards, up and down, without stirrups; make him swing a weight round in a circle from the shoulder as centre; the other hand placed on the thigh, thence to the rear, change the weight to the opposite hand, and same."

"Placing one hand on the horse's mane, make him lean down to each side in succession, till he reaches to within a short distance of the ground." "These exercises give a man a firm hold with his legs, on a horse, and teach him to move his limbs without quitting his seat. Then take him in the circle in the longe, and, by walking and trotting alternately, teach him the necessity of leaning with the body to the side the horse is turning to. This is the necessary balance. Then put him with others, and give him plenty of trotting, to shake him into his seat. By degrees teach him how to use the reins, then the leg."

These directions for training a full-grown trooper may be of use to civilians.

HANDS AND REINS.

Presuming that you are in a fair way to obtain a secure seat, the next point is the use of the reins and the employment of your legs, for it is by these that a horseman holds, urges, and turns his horse. To handle a horse in perfection, you must have, besides instruction, "good hands." Good or light hands, like the touch of a first-rate violinist, are a gift, not always to be acquired even by thought and practice. The perfection of riding is to make your horse understand and obey your directions, as conveyed through the reins—to halt, or go fast or slow; to walk, trot, canter, or gallop; to lead off with right or left leg, to change leg, to turn either way, and to rise in leaping at the exact point you select. No one but a perfect horseman, with naturally fine hands, can do this perfectly, but every young horseman should try.

The golden rule of horsemanship is laid down by Colonel Greenwood, in a sentence that noodles will despise for its "trite simplicity:"—"When you wish to turn to the right, pull the right rein stronger than the left." This is common sense. No horse becomes restive in the colt-breaker's hands. The reason is, that they ride with one bridle and two hands, instead of two bridles and one hand. "When they wish to go to the left, they pull the left rein stronger than the right. When they wish to go to the right, they pull the right rein stronger than the left. If the colt does not obey these indications, at least he understands them, even the first time he is mounted, and the most obstinate will not long resist them. Acting on these plain principles, I saw, in August last, a three-year-old colt which, placed absolutely raw and unbridled in Mr. Rarey's hands, within seven days answered every indication of the reins like an old horse—turned right or left, brought his nose to the rider's knee, and backed like an old trooper.

"But it takes a long time to make a colt understand that he is to turn to the right when the left rein is pulled;" and if any horse resists, the rider has no power one-handed, as the reins are usually held, to compel him.

The practice of one-handed riding originated in military schools; for a soldier has to carry a sword or lance, and depends chiefly on his well-trained horse and the pressure of his legs. No one ever attempts to turn a horse in harness with one hand, although there the driver has the assistance of the terrets, and it is equally absurd to attempt it with a colt or horse with a delicate mouth. Of course, with an old-trained hack even the reins are a mere form; any hint is enough.

The advantage of double-handed riding is, that, in a few hours, any colt and any pupil in horsemanship may learn it.

To make the most of a horse, the reins must be held with a smooth, even bearing, not hauling at a horse's mouth, as if it were made of Indian rubber, nor yet leaving the reins slack, but so feeling him that you can instantaneously direct his course in any direction, "as if," to use old Chifney's phrase, "your rein was a worsted thread." Your legs are to be used to force your horse forward up to the bit, and also to guide him. That is, when you turn to the right pull the right rein sharpest and press with the left leg; when to the left, vice versa. Unless a horse rides up to the bit you have no control over him.

A good horseman chooses his horse's ground and his pace for him. "To avoid a falling leaf a horse will put his foot over a precipice. When a horse has made a stumble, or is in difficulties at a fence, you cannot leave him too much at liberty, or be too quiet with him." Don't believe the nonsense people talk about holding a horse up after he has stumbled.

The pupil horseman should remember to drop his hands as low as he can on each side the withers, without stooping, when a horse becomes restive, plunging or attempting to run away. The instinct of a novice is to do exactly what he ought not to do—raise his hands.

By a skilful use of the reins and your own legs, with or without spurs, you collect, or, as Colonel Greenwood well expresses it, you condense your horse, at a stand, that is, you make him stand square, yet ready to move in any direction at any pace that you require; this is one use of the curb bit. It is on the same principle that fashionable coachmen "hit and hold" their high-bred horses while they thread the crowded streets of the West end in season, or that you see a hard rider, when starting with three hundred companions at the joyful sound of Tally-ho, pricking and holding his horse, to have him ready for a great effort the moment he is clear of the crowd.

By a judicious use of the curb rein, you collect a tired horse; tired horses are inclined to sprawl about. You draw his hind-legs under him, throw him upon his haunches, and render him less liable to fall even on his weary or weak fore-legs. But a pull at the reins when a horse is falling may make him hold up his head, but cannot make him hold up his legs.

"When a horse is in movement there should be a constant touch or feeling or play between his mouth and the rider's hands." Not the hold by which riders of the foreign school retain their horses at an artificial parade pace, which is inconceivably fatiguing to the animal, and quite contrary to our English notions of natural riding; but a gradual, delicate firm feeling of the mouth and steady indications of the legs, which keep a fiery well-broken horse always, to use a school phrase, "between your hands and legs."

You cannot take too much pains to acquire this art, for although it is not exercised on an old hack, that you ride with reins held any how, and your legs dangling anywhere, it is called into action and gives additional enjoyment to be striding the finest class of high-couraged delicate-mouthed horses—beautiful creatures that seem to enjoy being ridden by a real horseman or light-handed Amazone, but which become frantic in ignorant or brutal hands.

"A horse should never be turned without being made to collect himself, without being retained by the hands and urged by the legs, as well as guided by both; that is, in turning to the right both hands should retain him, and the right hand guide him, by being used the strongest; in turning to the left, both legs should urge him, and the left guide him by being pressed the strongest. Don't turn into the contrary extreme, slackening the left rein, and hauling the horse's head round to the right."

The same rules should be observed for making a horse canter with the right leg, but the right rein should be only drawn enough to develop his right nostril.

Reining Back.—You must collect a horse with your legs before you rein him back, because if you press him back first with the reins he may throw all his weight on his hind legs under him, stick out his nose, hug his tail, and then he cannot stir—you must recover him to his balance, and give him power to step back. This rule is often neglected by carters in trying to make the shaft-horse back.

Rearing.—Knot the snaffle rein—loose it when the horse rears—put your right arm round the horse's neck, with the hand well up and close under the horse's gullet; press your left shoulder forward so as to bring your chest to the horse's near side, for, if the horse falls, you will fall clear; the moment he is descending, press him forward, take up the rein, which, being knotted, is short to your hands, and ply the spurs. But a horse, after being laid down and made walk, tied up like the zebra a few times, will seldom persist, because the moment he attempts to rise you pull his off hind leg under him and he is powerless.

Leaping.—The riding-school is a bad place to teach a horse to leap. The bar, with its posts, is very apt to frighten him; if a colt has not been trained to leap as it should be by following its dam before it is mounted, take it into the fields and let it follow well-trained horses over easy low fences and little ditches, slowly without fuss, and, as part of the ride, not backwards and forwards—always leap on the snaffle. Our cavalry officers learn to leap, not in the school, but "across country." Nolan tells a story that, during some manoeuvres in Italy, an Austrian general, with his staff, got amongst some enclosures and sent some of his aide-de-camps to find an outlet. They peered over the stone walls, rode about, but could find no gap. The general turned to one of his staff, a Yorkshireman, and said, "See if you can find a way out of this place." Mr. W——k, mounted on a good English horse, went straight at the wall, cleared it, and, while doing so, turned in his saddle and touched his cap and said, "This way, general;" but his way did not suit the rest of the party.

There is a good deal taught in the best military schools, well worth time and study, which, with practice in horse-taming, would fill up the idle time of that numerous class who never read, and find time heavy on their hands, when out of town life.

"But a military riding-school," says Colonel Greenwood, "is too apt to teach you to sit on your horse as stiff as a statue, to let your right hand hang down as useless as if God had never gifted you with one, to stick your left hand out, with a stiff straight wrist like a boltsprit, and to turn your horse invariably on the wrong rein." I should not venture to say so much on my own authority, but Captain Nolan says further, speaking of the effect of the foreign school (not Baucher's), on horses and men, "The result of this long monotonous course of study is, that on the uninitiated the school rider makes a pleasing impression, his horse turns, prances, and caracoles without any visible aid, or without any motion in the horseman's upright, imposing attitude. But I have lived and served with them. I have myself been a riding-master, and know, from experience, the disadvantages of this foreign seat and system."

There is nothing that requires more patience and firmness than a shying horse. Shying arises from three causes—defective eyesight, skittishness, and fear. If a horse always shies from the same side you may be sure the eye on that side is defective.

You may know that a horse shies from skittishness if he flies one day snorting from what he meets the next with indifference; dark stables also produce this irregular shying.

Nervousness, which is often increased by brutality, as the horse is not only afraid of the object, but of the whipping and spurring he has been accustomed to receive, can be alleviated, to some extent, by the treatment already described in the horse-training chapter. But horses first brought from the country to a large town are likely to be alarmed at a number of objects. You must take time to make them acquainted with each. For instance, I brought a mare from the country that everything moving seemed to frighten. I am convinced she had been ill-used, or had had an accident in harness. The first time a railway train passed in her sight over a bridge spanning the road she was travelling, she would turn round and would have run away had I not been able to restrain her; I could feel her heart beat between my legs. Acting on the principles of Xenophon and Mr. Rarey, I allowed her to turn, but compelled her to stand, twenty yards off, while the train passed. She looked back with a fearful eye all the time—it was a very slow luggage train—while I soothed her. After once or twice she consented to face the train, watching it with crested neck and ears erect; by degrees she walked slowly forwards, and in the course of a few days passed under the bridge in the midst of the thunder of a train with perfect indifference.

If you can distinctly ascertain that a horse shies and turns round from mere skittishness, correct him when he turns, not as long as he faces the object: he will soon learn that it is for turning that he is visited with whip and spurs. A few days' practice and patience essentially alter the character of the most nervous horses.

Books contain very elaborate descriptions of what a hack or a hunter should be in form, &c. To most persons these descriptions convey no practical ideas. The better plan is to take lessons on the proportions and anatomy of a horse from some intelligent judge or veterinary surgeon. You must study, and buy, and lose your money on many horses before you can safely, if ever, depend on your own judgment in choosing a horse. And, after all, a natural talent for comparison and eye for proportion are only the gift of a few. Some men have horses all their lives, and yet scarcely know a good animal from a bad one, although they may know what they like to drive, or ride or hunt. The safe plan is to distrust your own judgment until you feel you have had experience enough to choose for yourself.

Hacks for long distances are seldom required in England in these railway days. A town hack should be good-looking, sure-footed, not too tall, and active, for you are always in sight, you have to ride over slippery pavement, to turn sharp corners, and to mount and dismount often. Rarey's system of making the horse obey the voice, stand until called, and follow the rider, may easily be taught, and is of great practical value thus applied. A cover or country hack must be fast, but need not be so showy in action or handsome as a town hack—his merit is to get over the ground.

Teach your hack to walk well with the reins loose—no pace is more gentlemanly and useful than a good steady walk. Any well-bred screw can gallop; it is the slow paces that show a gentleman's hack.

If on a long journey, walk a quarter of a mile for every four you trot or canter, choosing the softest bits of road or turf.

Do not permit the saddle to be removed for at least half an hour after arriving with your horse hot. A neglect of this precaution will give a sore back.

A lady's horse, beside other well-known qualifications of beauty and pace, should be up to the lady's weight. It is one of the fictions of society that all ladies eat little and weigh little. Now, a saddle and habit weigh nearly three stone, a very slim lady will weigh nine, so there you reach twelve stone, which, considering how fond young girls are of riding fast and long over hard roads, is no mean weight. The best plan is to put the dear creatures into the scales with their saddles, register the result, and choose a horse calculated to be a good stone over the gross weight. How few ladies remember, as for hours they canter up and down Rotten Row, that that famous promenade is a mile and a quarter in length, so ten turns make twelve miles and a half.

The qualifications of a hunter need not be described, because all those who need these hints will, if they have common sense, only take hunters like servants, with established characters of at least one season.

Remember that a horse for driving requires "courage," for he is always going fast—he never walks. People who only keep one or two horses often make the same mistake, as if they engaged Lord Gourmet's cook for a servant of all work. They see a fiery caprioling animal, sleek as a mole, gentle, but full of fire, come out of a nobleman's stud, where he was nursed like a child, and only ridden or driven in his turn, with half-a-dozen others. Seduced by his lively appearance, they purchase him, and place him under the care of a gardener-groom, or at livery, work him every day, early and late, and are surprised to find his flesh melt, his coat lose its bloom, and his lively pace exchanged for a dull shamble. This is a common case. The wise course is to select for a horse of all work an animal that has been always accustomed to work hard; he will then improve with care and regular exercise.

Horses under six years' old are seldom equal to very hard work: they are not, full-grown, of much use, where only one or two are kept.

Make a point of caressing your horse, and giving him a carrot or apple whenever he is brought to you, at the same time carefully examine him all over, see to his legs, his shoes, and feet; notice if he is well groomed; see to the condition of his furniture, and see always that he is properly bitted. Grooms are often careless and ignorant.

As to Shoeing. In large towns there are always veterinary surgeons' forges, where the art is well understood, and so, too, in hunting districts; but where you have to rely on ignorant blacksmiths you cannot do better than rely on the rather exaggerated instructions contained in "Miles on the Horse's Foot," issued at a low price by the Royal Agricultural Society. Good shoeing prolongs the use of a horse for years.

Stables.—Most elaborate directions are given for the construction of stables; but most people are obliged to put up with what they find on their premises. Stables should be so ventilated that they never stink, and are never decidedly warm in cold weather, if you wish your horses to be healthy. Grooms will almost always stop up ventilation if they can. Loose boxes are to be preferred to stalls, because in them a tired horse can place himself in the position most easy to him. Sloping stalls are chambers of torture.

Hunters should be placed away from other horses, where, after a fatiguing day, they can lie at length, undisturbed by men or other horses in use. Stables should be as light as living rooms, but with louvers to darken them in summer, in order to keep out the flies. An ample supply of cold and hot water without troubling the cook is essential in a well-managed stable.

Large stables are magnificent, but a mistake. Four or five horses are quite as many as can be comfortably lodged together. I have seen hunters in an old barn in better condition than in the grandest temples of fashionable architects.

It takes an hour to dress a horse well in the morning, and more on return hot from work. From this hint you may calculate what time your servant must devote to his horses if they are to be well dressed.

If you are in the middle class, with a small stud, never take a swell groom from a great stable—he will despise you and your horses. Hunting farmers and hunting country surgeons train the best class of grooms.

When you find an honest, sober man, who thoroughly knows his business, you cannot treat him too well, for half the goodness of a horse depends, like a French dish, on the treatment.

FOOTNOTES:

[114-*] "Hints on Horses and Hunting," by Senex.



CHAPTER IX.

ON HORSEMAN'S AND HORSEWOMAN'S DRESS, AND HORSE FURNITURE.

On bits.—The snaffle.—The use of the curb.—The Pelham.—The Hanoverian bit described.—Martingales.—The gentleman's saddle to be large enough.—Spurs.—Not to be too sharp.—The Somerset saddle for the timid and aged.—The Nolan saddle without flaps.—Ladies' saddle described.—Advantages of the hunting-horn crutch.—Ladies' stirrup.—Ladies' dress.—Hints on.—Habit.—Boots.—Whips.—Hunting whips.—Use of the lash.—Gentleman's riding costume.—Hunting dress.—Poole, the great authority.—Advantage of cap over hat in hunting.—Boot-tops and Napoleons.—Quotation from Warburton's ballads.

If you wish to ride comfortably, you must look as carefully to see that your horse's furniture fits and suits him as to your own boots and breeches.



When a farmer buys a team of oxen, if he knows his business he asks their names, because oxen answer to their names. On the same principle it is well to inquire what bit a horse has been accustomed to, and if you cannot learn, try several until you find out what suits him. There are rare horses, "that carry their own heads," in dealers' phrase, safely and elegantly with a plain snaffle bridle; but except in the hands of a steeple-chase jock, few are to be so trusted. Besides, as reins, as well as snaffles, break, it is not safe to hunt much with one bit and one bridle-rein. The average of horses go best on a double bridle, that is to say, the common hard and sharp or curb, with a snaffle. The best way is to ride on the snaffle, and use the curb only when it is required to stop your horse suddenly, to moderate his speed when he is pulling too hard, or when he is tired or lazy to collect him, by drawing his nose down and his hind-legs more under him, for that is the first effect of taking hold of the curb-rein. There are many horses with good mouths, so far that they can be stopped easily with a plain snaffle, and yet require a curb-bit, to make them carry their heads in the right place, and this they often seem to do from the mere hint of the curb-chain dangling against their chins, without the rider being obliged to pull at the reins with any perceptible force.



The Pelham-bit (see cut), which is a sort of snaffle-bit with cheeks and a curb-chain, is a convenient style for this class of horse. A powerful variation of the Pelham, called the Hanoverian, has within the last few years come very much into use. It requires the light hands of a practised horseman to use the curb-reins of the Hanoverian on a delicate-mouthed horse; but when properly used no bit makes a horse bend and display himself more handsomely, and in the hunting-field it will hold a horse when nothing else will, for this bit is a very powerful snaffle, as well as curb, with rollers or rings, that keep the horse's mouth moist, and prevent it from becoming dead (see cut). For hunting, use the first; if the Hanoverian it should not be too narrow.



The Chifney is a curb with, a very powerful leverage, and one of the best for a pulling horse, or a lady's use.

A perfect horseman will make shift with any bit. Sir Tatton Sykes and Sir Charles Knightley, in their prime, could hold any horse with a plain snaffle; but a lady, or a weak-wristed horseman, should be provided with a bit that can stop the horse on an emergency; and many horses, perfectly quiet on the road, pull hard in the field at the beginning of a run. But it should be remembered, that when a horse runs away, it is useless to rely on the curb, as, when once he has fully resisted it, the longer he runs the less he cares for it. The better plan is to keep the snaffle moving and sawing in his mouth, and from time to time take a sharp pull at the curb.



It is of great importance, especially with a high-spirited horse, that the headpiece should fit him, that it is neither too tight nor too low down in his mouth. I have known a violently restive horse to become perfectly calm and docile when his bridle had been altered so as to fit him comfortably. The curb-bit should be placed so low as only just to clear the tushes in a horse's mouth, and one inch above the corner teeth in a mare's. There should be room for at least one finger between the curb-chain and the chin. If the horse is tender-skinned, the chain may be covered with leather.

When you are learning to ride, you should take pains to learn everything concerning the horse and his equipments. In this country we are so well waited upon, that we often forget that we may at some time or other be obliged to become our own grooms and farriers.

For the colonies, the best bridle is that described in the chapter on training colts, which is a halter, a bridle, and a gag combined.

Bridle reins should be soft, yet tough; so long, and no longer, so that by extending your arms you can shorten them to any desired length; then, if your horse pokes out his head, or extends himself in leaping, you can, if you hold the reins in each hand, as you ought, let them slip through your fingers, and shorten them in an instant by extending your arms. A very good sportsman of my acquaintance has tabs sewn on the curb-reins, which prevents them from slipping. This is a useful plan for ladies who ride or drive; but, as before observed, in hunting the snaffle-reins should slip through the fingers.

Some horses require martingales to keep their heads down, and in the right place. But imperfect horsemen are not to be trusted with running martingales. Running martingales require tabs on the reins, to prevent the rings getting fixed close to the mouth.

For hacks and ladies' horses on the road, a standing martingale, buckled to the nose-band of the bridle, is the best. It should be fixed, as Mr. Rarey directs, not so short as to bring the horse's head exactly where you want it—your hands must do that—but just short enough to keep his nose down, and prevent him from flinging his poll into your teeth. If his neck is rightly shaped, he will by degrees lower his head, and get into the habit of so arching his neck that the martingale may be dispensed with; this is very desirable, because you cannot leap with a standing martingale, and a running one requires the hands of a steeplechase jock.

The saddle of a gentleman should be large enough. In racing, a few pounds are of consequence; but in carrying a heavy man on the road or in the field, to have the weight evenly distributed over the horse's back is of more consequence than three or four pounds. The common general fitting saddle will fit nine horses out of ten. Colonial horses usually have low shoulders; therefore colonial saddles should be narrow, thickly stuffed, and provided with cruppers, although they have gone out of fashion in this country, because it is presumed that gentlemen will only ride horses that have a place for carrying a saddle properly.

On a journey, see to the stuffing of your saddle, and have it put in a draft, or to the fire, to dry, when saturated with sweat; the neglect of either precaution may give your horse a sore back, one of the most troublesome of horse maladies.

Before hunting, look to the spring bars of the stirrup-leathers, and see that they will work: if they are tight, pull them down and leave them open. Of all accidents, that of being caught, after your horses fall, in the stirrup, is the most dangerous, and not uncommon. I have seen at least six instances of it. When raw to the hunting-field, and of course liable to falls, it is well to use the spring-bar stirrups which open, not at the side, but at the eye holding the stirrup-leather; the same that I recommend for the use of ladies.

Spurs are only to be used by those who have the habit of riding, and will not use them at the wrong time. In most instances, the sharp points of the rowels should be filed or rubbed off, for they are seldom required for more than to rouse a horse at a fence, or turn him suddenly away from a vehicle in the street. Sharp spurs may be left to jockeys. Long-legged men can squeeze their horses so hard, that they can dispense with spurs; but short-legged men need them at the close of a run, when a horse begins to lumber carelessly over his fences, or with a horse inclined to refuse. Dick Christian broke difficult horses to leaping without the spur; and when he did, only used one on the left heel. Having myself had falls with horses at the close of a run, which rushed and pulled at the beginning, for want of spurs, I have found the advantage of carrying one in my sandwich-bag, and buckling it on, if needed, at a check. Of course, first-rate horsemen need none of these hints; but I write for novices only, of whom, I trust, every prosperous year of Old England will produce a plentiful crop from the fortunate and the sons of the fortunate.

A great many persons in this country learn, or relearn, to ride after they have reached manhood, either because they can then for the first time afford the dignity and luxury, or because the doctor prescribes horse exercise as the only remedy for weak digestion, disordered liver, trembling nerves—the result of overwork or over-feeding. Thus the lawyer, overwhelmed with briefs; the artist, maintaining his position as a Royal Academician; the philosopher, deep in laborious historical researches; and the young alderman, exhausted by his first year's apprenticeship to City feeding, come under the hands of the riding-master.

Now although for the man "to the manner bred," there is no saddle for hard work and long work, whether in the hunting-field or Indian campaign, like a broad seated English hunting saddle, there is no doubt that its smooth slippery surface offers additional difficulties to the middle-aged, the timid, and those crippled by gout, rheumatism or pounds. There can be very little benefit derived from horse exercise as long as the patient travels in mortal fear. Foreigners teach riding on a buff leather demi-pique saddle,—a bad plan for the young, as the English saddle becomes a separate difficulty. But to those who merely aspire to constitutional canters, and who ride only for health, or as a matter of dignity, I strongly recommend the Somerset saddle, invented for one of that family of cavaliers who had lost a leg below the knee. This saddle is padded before the knee and behind the thigh to fit the seat of the purchaser, and if provided with a stuffed seat of brown buckskin will give the quartogenarian pupil the comfort and the confidence of an arm-chair. They are, it may be encouraging to mention, fashionable among the more aristocratic middle-aged, and the front roll of stuffing is much used among those who ride and break their own colts, as it affords a fulcrum against a puller, and a protection against a kicker. Australians use a rolled blanket, strapped over the pommel of the saddle, for the same purpose. To bad horsemen who are too conceited to use a Somerset, I say, in the words of the old proverb, "Pride must have a fall."

The late Captain Nolan had a military saddle improved from an Hungarian model, made for him by Gibson, of Coventry Street, London, without flaps, and with a felt saddle cloth, which had the advantage of being light, while affording the rider a close seat and more complete control over his horse, in consequence of the more direct pressure of the legs on the horse's flanks. It would be worth while to try a saddle of this kind for hunting purposes, and for breaking in colts. Of course it could only be worn with boots, to protect the rider's legs from the sweat of the horse's flanks.

With the hunting-horn crutch the seat of a woman is stronger than that of a man, for she presses her right leg down over the upright pommel, and the left leg up against the hunting-horn, and thus grasps the two pommels between her legs at that angle which gives her the most power.

Ladies' saddles ought invariably to be made with what is called the hunting-horn, or crutch, at the left side. The right-hand pommel has not yet gone out of fashion, but it is of no use, and is injurious to the security of a lady's seat, by preventing the right hand from being put down as low as it ought to be with a restive horse, and by encouraging the bad habit of leaning the right hand on it. A flat projection is quite sufficient. The security of the hunting-horn saddle will be quite clear to you, if, when sitting in your chair, you put a cylinder three or four inches in diameter between your legs, press your two knees together by crossing them, in the position of a woman on a side-saddle; when a man clasps his horse, however firmly, it has a tendency, to raise the seat from the saddle. This is not the case with the side-saddle seat: if a man wishes to use a lance and ride at a ring, he will find that he has a firmer seat with this kind of side-saddle than with his own. There is no danger in this side-pommel, since you cannot be thrown on it, and it renders it next to impossible that the rider should be thrown upon the other pommel. In case of a horse leaping suddenly into the air and coming down on all four feet, technically, "bucking," without the leaping-horn there is nothing to prevent a lady from being thrown up. But the leaping-horn holds down the left knee, and makes it a fulcrum to keep the right knee down in its proper place. If the horse in violent action throws himself suddenly to the left, the upper part of the rider's body will tend downwards, to the right, and the lower limbs to the left: nothing can prevent this but the support of the leaping-horn. The fear of over-balancing to the right causes many ladies to get into the bad habit of leaning over their saddles to the left. This fear disappears when the hunting-horn pommel is used. The leaping-horn is also of great use with a hard puller, or in riding down a steep place, for it prevents the lady from sliding forward.

But these advantages render the right-hand pommel quite useless, a slight projection being all sufficient (see woodcut); while this arrangement gives the habit and figure a much better appearance. Every lady ought to be measured for this part of the saddle, as the distance between the two pommels will depend partly on the length of her legs.

When a timid inexperienced lady has to ride a fiery horse it is not a bad plan to attach a strap to the outside girth on the right hand, so that she may hold it and the right hand rein at the same time without disturbing her seat. This little expedient gives confidence, and is particularly useful if a fresh horse should begin to kick a little. Of course it is not to be continued, but only used to give a timid rider temporary assistance. I have also used for the same purpose a broad tape passed across the knees, and so fastened that in a fall of the horse it would give way.

Colonel Greenwood recommends that for fastening a ladies' saddle-flaps an elastic webbing girth, and not a leather girth, should be used, and this attached, not, as is usually the case, to the small, but to the large flap on the near side. This will leave the near side small flap loose, as in a man's saddle, and allow a spring bar to be used. But I have never seen, either in use or in a saddler's shop, although I have constantly sought, a lady's saddle so arranged with a spring bar for the stirrup-leather. This mode of attaching a web girth to the large flap will render the near side perfectly smooth, with the exception of the stirrup-leather, which he recommends to be a single thin strap as broad as a gentleman's, fastened to the stirrup-leg by a loop or slipknot, and fixed over the spring bar of the saddle by a buckle like that on a man's stirrup-leather. This arrangement, which the Colonel also recommends to gentlemen, presumes that the length of the stirrup-leather never requires altering more than an inch or two. It is a good plan for short men when travelling, and likely to ride strange horses, to carry their stirrup-leathers with them, as nothing is more annoying than to have to alter them in a hurry with the help of a blunt pen-knife.

"The stirrup for ladies should be in all respects like a man's, large and heavy, and open at the side, or the eyelet hole, with a spring." The stirrups made small and padded out of compliment to ladies' small feet are very dangerous. If any padding be required to protect the front of the ankle-joint, it had better be a fixture on the boot.

It is a mistake to imagine that people are dragged owing to the stirrup being too large, and the foot passing through it; such accidents arise from the stirrup being too small, and the foot clasped by the pressure of the upper part on the toe and the lower part on the sole.

Few ladies know how to dress for horse exercise, although there has been a great improvement, so far as taste is concerned, of late years. As to the head-dress, it may be whatever is in fashion, provided it so fits the head as not to require continual adjustment, often needed when the hands would be better employed with the reins and whip. It should shade from the sun, and if used in hunting protect the nape of the neck from rain. The recent fashions of wearing the plumes or feathers of the ostrich, the cock, the capercailzie, the pheasant, the peacock, and the kingfisher, in the riding-hats of young ladies, in my humble opinion, are highly to be commended.

As to the riding-habit, it may be of any colour and material suitable to the wearer and the season of year, but the sleeves must fit rather closely; nothing can be more out of place, inconvenient, and ridiculous, than the wide, hanging sleeves which look so well in a drawing-room. For country use the skirt of a habit may be short, and bordered at the bottom a foot deep with leather. The fashion of a waistcoat of light material for summer, revived from the fashion of last century, is a decided improvement, and so is the over-jacket of cloth, or sealskin, for rough weather. There is no reason why pretty young girls should not indulge in picturesque riding costume so long as it is appropriate.

Many ladies entirely spoil the sit of the skirts by retaining the usual impedimenta of petticoats[147-*]. The best-dressed horsewomen wear nothing more than a flannel chemise with long coloured sleeves, under their trousers.

Ladies' trousers should be of the same material and colour as the habit, and if full flowing like a Turk's, and fastened with an elastic band round the ankle, they will not be distinguished from the skirt. In this costume, which may be made amply warm by the folds of the trousers, plaited like a Highlander's kilt (fastened with an elastic band at the waist), a lady can sit down in a manner impossible for one encumbered by two or three short petticoats. It is the chest and back which require double folds of protection during, and after, strong exercise.

There is a prejudice against ladies wearing long Wellington boots; but it is quite absurd, for they need never be seen, and are a great comfort and protection in riding long distances, when worn with the trousers tucked inside. They should, for obvious reasons, be large enough for warm woollen stockings, and easy to get on and off. It would not look well to see a lady struggling out of a pair of wet boots with the help of a bootjack and a couple of chambermaids. The heels of riding-boots, whether for ladies or gentlemen, should be low, but long, to keep the stirrup in its place.

The yellow patent leather recently introduced seems a suitable thing for the "Napoleons" of hunting ladies. And I have often thought that the long leather gaiters of the Zouave would suit them.

Whips require consideration. By gentlemen on the road or in the park they are rather for ornament than use. A jockey whip is the most punishing, but on the Rarey system it is seldom necessary to use the whip except to a slug, and then spurs are more effective.

A lady's whip is intended to supply the place of a man's right leg and spur; it should therefore, however ornamental and thin, be stiff and real. Messrs. Callow, of Park Lane, make some very pretty ones, pink, green and amber, from the skin of the hippopotamus, light but severe. A loop to hang it from the wrist may be made ornamental in colours and gold, and is useful, for a lady may require all the power of her little hand to grasp the right rein without the encumbrance of the whip, which on this plan will still be ready if required at a moment's notice. Hunting-whips must vary according to the country. In some districts the formidable metal hammers are still required to break intractable horses, but such whips and jobs should be left to the servants and hard-riding farmers.

As a general rule the hunting-whip of a man who has nothing to do with the hounds may be light, but it should have a good crook and be stiff enough to stop a gate. A small steel stud outside the crook prevents the gate from slipping; flat lashes of a brown colour have recently come into fashion, but they are mere matters of fashion like the colour of top boots, points to which only snobs pay any attention—that is, those asses who pin their faith in externals, and who, in the days of pigtails, were ready to die in defence of those absurd excrescences.

The stock of a whip made by Callow for a hunting nobleman to present to a steeple-chasing and fox-hunting professional, was of oak, a yard long, with a buck-horn crook, and a steel stud; but then the presentee is six feet high.

Every hunting-whip should have a lash, but it need not be long. The lash may be required to rouse a hound under your horse's feet, or turn the pack; as for whipping off the pack from the fox in the absence of the huntsman, the whips and the master, that is an event that happens to one per cent of the field once in a lifetime, although it is a common and favourite anecdote after dinner. But then Saint Munchausen presides over the mahogany where fox-hunting feats are discussed. One use of a lash is to lead a horse by putting it through the rings of the snaffle, and to flip him up as you stand on the bank when he gets stuck fast, or dead beat in a ditch or brook. I once owed the extrication of my horse from a brook with a deep clay bottom entirely to having a long lash to my whip; for when he had plumped in close enough to the opposite bank for me to escape over his head, I was able first to guide him to a shelving spot, and then make him try one effort more by adroit flicks on his rump at a moment when he seemed prepared to give in and be drowned. In leading a horse, always pass the reins through the ring of the snaffle, so that if he pulls he is held by the mouth, not by the top of his head.

The riding costume of a gentleman should be suitable without being groomish. It is a fact that does not seem universally known, that a man does not ride any better for dressing like a groom.

It has lately been the fashion to discard straps. This is all very well if the horse and the rider can keep the trousers down, which can only be done by keeping the legs away from the horse's sides; but when the trousers rise to the top of the boot, and the stocking or bare leg appears, the sooner straps or knee-breeches are adopted the better.

For hunting, nothing will do but boots and breeches, unless you condescend to gaiters—for trousers wet, draggled and torn, are uncomfortable and expensive wear. Leathers are pleasant, except in wet weather, and economical wear if you have a man who can clean them; but if they have to go weekly to the breeches-maker they become expensive, and are not to be had when wanted; besides, wet leather breeches are troublesome things to travel with. White cord breeches have one great convenience; they wash well, although not so elastic, warm, and comfortable as woollen cords. It is essential for comfort that hunting-breeches should be built by a tailor who knows that particular branch of business, and tried on sitting down if not on horseback, for half your comfort depends on their fit. Many schneiders who are first-rate at ordinary garments, have no idea of riding clothes. Poole, of Saville Row, makes hunting-dress a special study, and supplies more hunting-men and masters of hounds than any tailor in London, but his customers must be prepared to pay for perfection.

In the coats, since the modern shooting jacket fashion came in, there is great scope for variety. The fashion does not much matter so long as it is fit for riding—ample enough to cover the chest and stomach in wet weather, easy enough to allow full play for the arms and shoulders, and not so long as to catch in hedgerows and brambles. Our forefathers in some counties rode in coats like scarlet dressing-gowns. There is one still to be seen in Surrey. For appearance, for wear, and as a universal passport to civility in a strange country, there is nothing like scarlet, provided the horseman can afford to wear it without offending the prejudices of valuable patrons, friends or landlords. In Lincolnshire, farmers are expected to appear in pink. In Northamptonshire a yeoman farming his own 400 acres would be thought presumptuous if he followed the Lincolnshire example. Near London you may see the "pals" of fighting men and hell-keepers in pink and velvet. A scarlet coat should never be assumed until the rider's experience in the field is such that he is in no danger of becoming at once conspicuous and ridiculous.

A cap is to be preferred to a hat because it fits closer, is less in the way when riding through cover, protects the head better from a bough or a fall, and will wear out two or three hats. It should be ventilated by a good hole at the top.

Top-boots are very pretty wear for men of the right height and right sort of leg when they fit perfectly—that is difficult on fat calves—and are cleaned to perfection, which is also difficult unless you have a more than ordinarily clever groom.

For men of moderate means, the patent black leather Napoleon, which costs from 3l. 10s. to 4l. 4s., and can be cleaned with a wet sponge in five minutes, is the neatest and most economical boot—one in which travelling does not put you under any obligation to your host's servants.

I have often found the convenience of patent leather boots when staying with a party at the house of a master of hounds, while others, as the hounds were coming out of the kennel, were in an agony for tops entrusted two or three days previously to a not-to-be-found servant. In this point of the boots I differ from the author of "A Word ere we Start;" but then, squires of ten thousand a-year are not supposed to understand the shifts of those who on a twentieth part of that income manage to enjoy a good deal of sport with all sorts of hounds and all sorts of horses.

There is a certain class of sporting snobs who endeavour to enhance their own consequence or indulge their cynical humour by talking with the utmost contempt of any variation from the kind of hunting-dress in use, in their own particular district. The best commentary on the supercilious tailoring criticism of these gents is to be found in the fact that within a century every variety of hunting clothes has been in and out of fashion, and that the dress in fashion with the Quorn hunt in its most palmy days was not only the exact reverse of the present fashion in that flying country, but, if comfort and convenience are to be regarded, as ridiculous as brass helmets, tight stocks, and buttoned-up red jackets for Indian warfare. It consisted, as may be seen in old Alken's and Sir John Dean Paul's hunting sketches, of a high-crowned hat, a high tight stock, a tight dress coat, with narrow skirts that could protect neither the chest, stomach, or thighs, long tight white cord breeches, and pale top-boots thrust low down the leg, the tops being supposed to be cleaned with champagne. Leather breeches, caps, and brown top-boots were voted slow in those days. But the men went well as they do in every dress.

"Old wiseheads, complacently smoothing the brim, May jeer at my velvet, and call it a whim; They may think in a cap little wisdom there dwells; They may say he who wears it should wear it with bells; But when Broadbrim lies flat, I will answer him pat, Oh! who but a crackskull would ride in a hat!"

SQUIRE WARBURTON.



FOOTNOTES:

[147-*] At an inquest on a young lady killed at Totnes in September last, it appeared that she lost her seat and hung by a crinoline petticoat from the right hand pommel!



CHAPTER X.

ON HUNTING.

"The sailor who rides on the ocean, Delights when the stormy winds blow: Wind and steam, what are they to horse motion? Sea cheers to a land Tally-ho? The canvas, the screw, and the paddle, The stride of the thorough-bred hack, When, fastened like glue to the saddle, We gallop astern of the pack."

TARPORLEY HUNT SONG, 1855.

Advantage of hunting.—Libels on.—Great men who have hunted.—Popular notion unlike reality.—Dick Christian and the Marquis of Hastings.—Fallacy of "lifting" a horse refuted.—Hints on riding at fences.—Harriers discussed.—Stag-hunting a necessity and use where time an object.—Hints for novices.—Tally-ho! expounded.—To feed a horse after a hard ride.—Expenses of horse keep.—Song by Squire Warburton, "A word ere we start."

Every man who can ride, and, living within a couple of hours' distance of a pack of hounds, can spare a day now and then, should hunt. It will improve his horsemanship, enlarge his circle of acquaintance, as well as his tastes and sympathies, and make, as Shakspeare hath it—

"Good digestion wait on appetite, and health on both."

Not that I mean that every horseman should attempt to follow the hounds in the first flight, or even the second; because age, nerves, weight, or other good reasons may forbid: but every man who keeps a good hack may meet his friends at cover side, enjoy the morning air, with a little pleasant chat, and follow the hounds, if not in the front, in the rear, galloping across pastures, trotting through bridle gates, creeping through gaps, and cantering along the green rides of a wood, thus causing a healthy excitement, with no painful reaction: and if, unhappily, soured or overpressed by work and anxious thoughts, drinking in such draughts of Lethe as can no otherwise be drained.

Hunting has suffered as much from overpraise as from the traditionary libels of the fribbles and fops of the time of the first Georges, when a fool, a sot, and a fox-hunter were considered synonymous terms. Of late years it has pleased a sportsman, with a wonderful talent for picturesquely describing the events of a fox-hunt, to write two sporting novels, in which all the leading characters are either fools or rogues.

"In England all conditions of men, except bishops, from ratcatchers to Royalty, are to be found in the hunting-field—equalised by horsemanship, and fraternising under the influence of a genial sport. Among fox-hunters we can trace a long line of statesmen, from William of Orange to Pitt and Fox. Lord Althorp was a master of hounds; and Lord Palmerston we have seen, within the last few years, going—as he goes everywhere—in the first flight." This was before the French fall of the late Premier. Cromwell's Ironsides were hunting men; Pope, the poet, writes in raptures of a gallop with the Wiltshire Harriers; and Gladstone, theologian, politician, and editor of Homer, bestrides his celebrated white mare in Nottinghamshire, and scurries along by the side of the ex-War Minister, the Duke of Newcastle.

"The progress of agriculture is indelibly associated with fox-hunting; for the three great landlords, who did more to turn sand and heath into corn and wool, and make popular the best breeds of stock and best course of cultivation—Francis, Duke of Bedford; Coke, Earl of Leicester; and the first Lord Yarborough—were all masters of hounds.

"When indecency formed the staple of our plays, and a drunken debauch formed the inevitable sequence of every dinner-party, a fool and a fox-hunter were synonymous. Squire Western was the representative of a class, which, however, was not more ridiculous than the patched, perfumed Sir Plumes, whom Hogarth painted, and Pope satirised. Fox-hunters are not a class now—roads, newspapers, and manufacturing emigration have equalised the condition of the whole kingdom; and fox-hunters are just like any other people, who wear clean shirts, and can afford to keep one or more horses.

"It is safe to assert that hunting-men, as a class, are temperate. No man can ride well across a difficult country who is not. We must, however, admit that the birds who have most fouled their own nest have been broken-down sportsmen, chiefly racing men, who have turned writers to turn a penny. These unfortunate people, with the fatal example of 'Noctes Ambrosianae' before them, fill up a page, whenever their memory or their industry fails them, in describing in detail a breakfast, a luncheon, a dinner, and a supper. And this has been repeated so often, that the uninitiated are led to believe that every fox-hunter must, as a matter of course, keep a French cook, and consume an immense cellar of port, sherry, madeira, hock, champagne, with gallons of strong ale, and all manner of liqueurs.

"The popular notion of a fox-hunt is as unlike the reality as a girl's notion of war—a grand charge and a splendid victory.

"Pictures always represent exciting scenes—hounds flying away with a burning scent; horses taking at a bound, or tumbling neck and crop over, frightful fences. Such lucky days, such bruising horsemen, such burning scents and flying foxes are the exception.

"At least two-thirds of those who go out, even in the most fashionable counties, never attempt brooks or five-barred gates, or anything difficult or dangerous; but, by help of open gates and bridle-roads, which are plentiful, parallel lanes, and gaps, which are conveniently made by the first rush of the straight riders and the dealers with horses to sell, helped by the curves that hounds generally make, and a fair knowledge of the country, manage to be as near the hounds as the most thrusting horseman. Among this crowd of skirters and road-riders are to be found some very good sportsmen, who, from some cause or other, have lost their nerve; others, who live in the county, like the excitement and society, but never took a jump in their lives; young ladies with their papas; boys on ponies; farmers educating four-year-olds; surgeons and lawyers, who are looking for professional practice as well as sport. On cold scenting days, with a ringing fox, this crowd keeps on until nearly dark, and heads many a fox. Many a beginner, in his first season, has been cheated by a succession of these easy days over an easy part of the county into the idea that there was no difficulty in riding to hounds. But a straight fox and a burning scent over a grass country has undeceived him, and left him in the third or fourth field with his horse half on a hedge and half in a ditch, or pounded before a 'bulfinch,' feeling very ridiculous. There are men who cut a very respectable figure in the hunting-field who never saw a pack of hounds until they were past thirty. The city of London turns out many such; so does every great town where money is made by men of pluck, bred, perhaps, as ploughboys in the country. We could name three—one an M.P.—under these conditions, who would pass muster in Leicestershire, if necessary. But a good seat on horseback, pluck, and a love of the sport, are essential. A few years ago a scientific manufacturer, a very moderate horseman, was ordered horse exercise as a remedy for mind and body prostrated by over-anxiety. He found that, riding along the road, his mind was as busy and wretched as ever. A friend prescribed hunting, purchased for him a couple of made hunters, and gave him the needful elementary instruction. The first result was, that he obtained such sound, refreshing sleep as he had not enjoyed since boyhood; the next, that in less than two seasons he made himself quite at home with a provincial pack, and now rides so as to enjoy himself without attracting any more notice than one who had been a fox-hunter from his youth upwards."

The illustration at the commencement of this chapter gives a very fair idea of the seat of good horsemen going at a fence and broad ditch, where pace is essential. A novice may advantageously study the seats of the riders in Herring's "Steeplechase Cracks," painted by an artist who was a sportsman in his day.

A few invaluable hints on riding to hounds are to be found in the Druid's account of Dick Christian.

The late Marquis of Hastings, father of the present Marquis, was one of the best and keenest fox-hunters of his day; he died young, and here is Dick's account of his "first fence," for which all fox-hunters are under deep obligations to the Druid.

"The Marquis of Hastings was one of my pupils. I was two months at his place before he came of age. He sent for me to Donnington, and I broke all his horses. I had never seen him before. He had seven rare nice horses, and very handy I got them. The first meet I went out with him was Wartnaby Stone Pits. I rode by his side, and I says, 'My lord, we'll save a bit of distance if we take this fence.' So he looked at me and he laughed, and says, 'Why, Christian, I was never over a fence in my life.' 'God bless me, my lord! you don't say so?' And I seemed quite took aback at hearing him say it. 'Its true enough, Christian, I really mean it.' 'Well, my lord,' says I, 'you're on a beautiful fencer, he'll walk up to it and jump it. Now I'll go over the fence first. Put your hands well down on his withers and let him come.' It was a bit of a low-staked hedge and a ditch; he got over as nice as possible, and he gave quite a hurrah like. He says, 'There, I'm over my first fence—that's a blessing!' Then I got him over a great many little places, and he quite took to it and went on uncommonly well. He was a nice gentleman to teach—he'd just do anything you told him. That's the way to get on!"

In another place Dick says, "A quick and safe jumper always goes from hind-legs to fore-legs. I never rode a steeple-chase yet but I steadied my horse on to his hind-legs twenty yards from his fence, and I was always over and away before the rushers. Lots of the young riders think horses can jump anything if they can only drive them at it fast enough. They force them too much at their fences. If you don't feel your horse's mouth, you can tell nothing about him. You hold him, he can make a second effort; if you drop him, he won't."

Now, Dick does not mean by this that you are to go slowly at every kind of fence. He tells you that he "sent him with some powder at a bullfinch;" but whatever the pace, you so hold your horse in the last fifty yards up to the taking-off point, that instead of spreading himself out all abroad at every stroke, he feels the bit and gets his hind-legs well under him. If you stand to see Jim Mason or Tom Oliver in the hunting-field going at water, even at what they call "forty miles an hour," you will find the stride of their horses a measured beat, and while they spur and urge them they collect them. This is the art no book can teach; but it can teach that it ought to be learned. Thousands of falls have been caused by a common and most absurd phrase, which is constantly repeated in every description of the leaps of a great race or run. "He took his horse by the head and lifted him," &c.

No man in the world ever lifted a horse over anything—it is a mechanical impossibility—but a horseman of the first order can at a critical moment so rouse a horse, and so accurately place his head and hind-legs in the right position, that he can make an extraordinary effort and achieve a miraculous leap. This in metaphorical language is called lifting a horse, because, to a bye-stander, it looks like it. But when a novice, or even an average horseman, attempts this sort of tour de force, he only worries his horse, and, ten to one, throws him into the fence. Those who are wise will content themselves with keeping a horse well in hand until he is about to rise for his effort, and to collecting him the moment he lands. The right hold brings his hind legs under him; too hard a pull brings him into the ditch, if there is one. By holding your hands with the reins in each rather wide apart as you come towards your fence, and closing them and dropping them near his withers as he rises, you give him room to extend himself; and if you stretch your arms as he descends, you have him in hand. But the perfect hunter, as long as he is fresh, does his work perfectly, so the less you meddle with him when he is rising the better.

Young sportsmen generally err by being too bold and too fast. Instead of studying the art in the way the best men out perform, they are hiding their nervousness by going full speed at everything, or trying to rival the whips in daring. Any hard-headed fool can ride boldly. To go well when hounds are running hard—to save your horse as much as possible while keeping well forward, for the end, the difficult part of a long run—these are the acts a good sportsman seeks to acquire by observation and experience.

For this reason young sportsmen should commence their studies with harriers, where the runs are usually circling and a good deal of hunting is done slowly. If a young fellow can ride well in a close, enclosed hedge, bank, and ditch country, with occasional practice at stiles and gates, pluck will carry him through a flying country, if properly mounted.

Any horse that is formed for jumping, with good loins, hocks, and thighs, can be taught to jump timber; but it is madness to ride at a gate or a stile with a doubtful horse. A deer always slacks his pace to a trot to jump a wall or park rails, and it is better to slacken to a trot or canter where there is no ditch on either side to be cleared, unless you expect a fall, and then go fast, that your horse may not tumble on you.

A rushing horse is generally a dangerous fencer; but it is a trick that can only be cured in private lessons, and it is more dangerous to try to make a rusher go slowly than to let him have his own way.

The great error of young beginners is to select young horses under their weight.

It was the saying of a Judge of the old school, that all kinds of wine were good, but the best wine of all was "two bottles of port!" In the same style, one may venture to say that all kinds of hunting are good, but that the best of all is fox-hunting, in a grass scent-holding country, divided into large fields, with fences that may be taken in the stride of a thorough-bred, and coverts that comprise good gorse and open woods—that is, for men of the weight, with the nerve, and with the horses that can shine in such a country. But it is not given to all to have or retain the nerve or to afford a stud of the style of horses required for going across the best part of Leicestershire and Northamptonshire. In this world, the way to be happy is to put up with what you can get. The majority of my readers will be obliged to ride with the hounds that happen to live nearest their dwelling; it is only given to the few to be able to choose their hunting country and change their stud whenever the maggot bites them. After hard brain-work and gray hairs have told on the pulse, or when the opening of the nursery-door has almost shut the stable, a couple of hours or so once a week may be made pleasant and profitable on a thirty-pound hack for the quartogenarian, whom time has not handicapped with weight for age. I can say, from the experience of many years, that as long as you are under twelve stone, you may enjoy very good sport with such packs as the Bramham Moor in Yorkshire, the Brocklesby in Lincolnshire, the Heythrope in Oxfordshire, the Berkley or the Beaufort in Gloucestershire, without any enormous outlay for horses, for the simple reason that the average runs do not present the difficulties of grass countries, where farmers are obliged to make strong fences and deep ditches to keep the bullocks they fatten within bounds. Good-looking little horses, clever jumpers, equal to moderate weights, are to be had, by a man who has not too much money, at moderate prices; but the sixteen hands, well-bred flyer, that can gallop and go straight in such countries as the Vale of Aylesbury, is an expensive luxury. Of course I am speaking of sound horses. There is scarcely ever a remarkable run in which some well-ridden screw does not figure in the first flight among the two hundred guinea nags.

When an old sportsman of my acquaintance heard any of the thousand-and-one tales of extraordinary runs with fox-hounds, "after dinner," he used to ask—"Were any of the boys or ponies up at the kill?" If the answer was "Yes," he would say, "Then it was not a severe thing;" and he was generally right. Men of moderate means had better choose a hunting county where the boys can live with the hounds.

"As to harriers, the people who sneer at them are ludicrously ignorant of the history of modern fox-hunting, which is altogether founded on the experience and maxims of hare-hunters. The two oldest fox-hound packs in England—the Brocklesby and the Cheshire—were originally formed for hare-hunting. The best book ever written on hounds and hunting, a text-book to every master of hounds to this day, is by Beckford, who learned all he knew as master of a pack of harriers.

"The great Meynell and Warwickshire Corbett both entered their young hounds to hare, a practice which cannot, however, be approved. The late Parson Froude, in North Devon, than whom a keener sportsman never holloaed to hounds, and the breeder of one of the best packs for showing sport ever seen, hunted hare, fox, deer, and even polecats, sooner than not keep his darlings doing something; and, while his hounds would puzzle out the faintest scent, there were among the leaders several that, with admirable dash, jumped every gate, disdaining to creep. Some of this stock are still hunting on Exmoor. There are at present several very good M.F.H. who began with hare-hounds.

"The intense pretentious snobbishness of the age has something to do with the mysterious manner in which many men, blushing, own that they have been out with harriers. In the first place, as a rule, harriers are slow; although there are days when, with a stout, well-fed, straight-running hare, the best men will have enough to do to keep their place in the field: over the dinner-table that is always an easy task; but in this fast, competitive age, the man who can contrive to stick on a good horse can show in front without having the least idea of the meaning of hunting. To such, harriers afford no amusement. Then again, harrier packs are of all degrees, from the perfection of the Blackmoor Vale, the Brookside, and some Devon or Welsh packs with unpronounceable names, down to the little scratch packs of six or seven couple kept among jovial farmers in out-of-the-way places, or for the amusement of Sheffield cutlers running afoot. The same failing that makes a considerable class reverently worship an alderman or a city baronet until they can get on speaking terms with a peer, leads others to boast of fox-hunting when the Brighton harriers are more than they can comfortably manage."

The greater number of what are called harriers now-a-days are dwarf fox-hounds, or partake largely of fox-hound blood.

If Leicestershire is the county for "swells," Devonshire is the county of sportsmen; for although there is very little riding to hounds as compared with the midland counties, there is a great deal of hunting. Every village has its little pack; every man, woman, and child, from the highest to the humblest, takes an interest in the sport; and the science of hunting is better understood than in the hard-riding, horse-dealing counties. To produce a finished fox-hunter, I would have him commence his studies in Devonshire, and finish his practice in Northamptonshire. On the whole, I should say that a student of the noble science, whose early education has been neglected, cannot do better than go through a course of fox-hunting near Oxford, in the winter vacation, where plenty of perfect hunters are to be hired, and hounds meet within easy reach of the University City, six days in the week, hunting over a country where you may usually be with them at the finish without doing anything desperate, if content to come in with the ruck, the ponies, and the old farmers; or where, if so inclined, you may have more than an average number of fast and furious runs, and study the admirable style of some of the best horsemen in the world among the Oxfordshire and Berkshire squires.