C.B.B.SMITH-BINGHAM

'&£&£

Webster Family library of Veterinary Medicine
Qun 'ary Medicines':

-536

HUNTING TALK,

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kAJOR W. FRASER-TYTLER.

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TUFTS UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES

3 9090 013 407

23

LONDON
Printed by WILLIAM OLOWES & SONS, LTD.
3 1 , Haymarke t , S . W . 1 .

(71 1

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MY WIPE.
(KM. H. /. G. S.)

UNLESS.

Unless you can ride, when the foxhcmnds run,

With the flying pack before you;
Unless you can feel, when led by none,

That hell itself won't floor you;
Unless you can know, with big timber in front,

Afith a big heart towards it you're striding;
Unless you can lead through a straight fast hunt

Oh, fear to call it riding!

Unless you can drive through a skirting crew

To the place where you mean to ride;
Unless you can go on a slug or a screw

As you would on your stable's pride;
Unless you can feel that it's heaven you're in

As over the grass you are striding,
Unless you can know that to funk is to sin -

Oh, never call it riding!

After Mrs. Barrett-Browning,

oOOo---

CONTENTS

Preface
Chapter I.
Chapter II.
Chapter III.
Chapter IV.
Chapter V.
Chapter VI.
Chapter VII.
Chapter VIII.
Chapter IX.

Page v

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" 8

,t 17

■ 24

■ 38
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11 62
" 69

•ooOoo-

-v-

p R E F A C E.

It is usual in books of this kind to put forward

in the Preface some reason or excuse for their appear-
ance. I have observed that publication is frequently
ascribed to the advice of relatives and friends who,
having read the manuscript, have so insistently urged
that a wider public should be allowed to enjoy it,
that a more or less modest and unwilling author has
given wan . In my case I have been unable to detect
y such pr e s s ur e .

Even "M. H. w*. G. S.," to whom I dedicate the
work, gave me much assistance, but no direct encourage-
ment, although often able to keep awake while I read
whole chapters. Of course, nobody really has all
those initials. 3 letters stand for "My Helper with
Grammar and S pel]:' .

For myself I must admit that, on reading over the
uscript for the last time, my chief feeling is one
of amazement that anyone could make so fascinating a
subject so dull.

There is in the book very little that is new, but
there is a good deal that is sure, and if, dear reader
(it would be taking too sanguine a view to use the
plural), you plough through it, you may possibly gain
a few useful hints. I near the end of my Preface, and
am still without any excuse or reason for publication,
so I think I will just put it down to obstinacy. I
have lived more or less for hunting all my life: I said
I would write a book about it, and I have. I just said
"a book" - no adjective. But I fear, if I added the
adjectives I have employed while writing it, I could
not get my Preface into print.

-vi-

The Brook has one merit: I am publishing it private-
ly, and it will not cost anybody 'thing. The contents
with a Hunting Song thrown in, are well worth the money.

In conclusion, lest that reader I have already re-
ferred to should think this Freface light or even amus-
ing, let me hasten to assure him that all the rest of
the book is very serious; that is a much better word
than "dull.

. T. ERASER -TYT:

Rock,

Washington,

Sussex.

H U i: T I i: G TALK.

:a i.

I have lived my life - I am nearly done,
I have played the game all round;

But 1 freely adnit that the "best of my fun
I owe it to horse and hound.

[YTE -MELVILLE.

The future cutlool: for hunting is not very clear,
and we seem to he faced with thia proposition - that
many, proh ost, subscribers will be less well
off than in pre-war days (v/ar profiteers have not,
as a rule, been hunting men), that there may be fewer
of them, and that as the cost cf hunting a country
will be greater, those who jio hunt will have to
subscribe on a higher scale.

Jorrocks, as usual, was quite to the point in
one of his "lectors11 when he said: "The cost of
hunting, my beloved 'earers, like all other things,
depends a 'most entirely on ' ow you go about it.
The only really indispensable outlay is the sub-
scription to the ' ounds, which ought always to be
paid punctual in adwance."

e cannot economise in our hunt subscriptions,
that seems quite certain, so we must endeavour to do
so in our personal hunting expenditure.

And there I come to the chief object of this
little book, which is written with the idea of giving
a few hints to keen lads as to picking up cheap
horses, turning them into hunters, the m« cf
four-year-olds, and the riding of them, when made,
up to hounds.

As a young man I suffered from a painfully
small income, but I never let it interfere with

-2-

my determination to hunt, and perhaps the experience
I collected may be of xxse to those who have to hunt
"on the cheap" .

It may be that many a lad in whose way riding
had not previously come, joining a cavalry or yeo-
manry regiment for the War, has realised the joy
of riding and found himself a horseman. If to
any such, when they take to hunting, the hints
in this book prove of service, I shall be rewarded.

I have kept a hunting diary since the year 1887,
which to some measure should restrict me to actual
facts in the following pages.

It has been a pleasure to turn over old diaries
and letters which recalled good hunts enjoyed with
cheery comrades in days gone by, but I recognise
clearly that, in illustrating my various arguments
and points by personal experiences, I cannot fail
to be somewhat egotistical.

Many better men to hounds have I seen, but obvious-
ly one can only write with inside knowledge of one's
own experiences, not of other men's. ..'hat first
made me think of embarking on this book was the habit
I noticed in so many men, some of them good horsemen,
of accepting their hunters, so to speak, as they found
them.

Kow often one hears a man say: "This brute
won't ,iump without a lead," or "won't face water,"
or "cannot be got over any sort of a fence out of a
road." ow, any such faults result in a horse
being almost useless as a hunter. When the rider
was a rich man, it generally meant that he sent the
horse back to the dealer whence it came, and got
another in its place. You may be sure the dealers'
man soon knocked the fault out of it, whatever it
might be. cut if you are a poor man and become
owner of a horse with some such fault, you have to
take the place of the dealers' man, and by determined
and skilful riding "straighten it out" yourself.

-3-

To make horses do .lust what you want, the first
thing to learn, besides keeping your temper - which
is, of course, essential - is to ride with both
hands on the reins. A man who can only ride over
fences with one hand on the reins and the other used
a^ a sort of balancing pole, must abandon all idea
of making or even improving a hunter. He may,
and often does, go ver77 well on the perfectly finished
article, but nothing else will suit him. As a lad
I thought George Bird - a very fine horseman, well
known in the Epsom district - put a horse at a fence
as well as any man I ever s" . He never wore spurs
and hardly ever carried a whip, and used a single rein
ring snaffle and seldom a martingale. Carrying his
hands low and very wide apart, it was always a pleasure
to see a horse .jump with him, and I have seldom seen
horses more perfectly balanced and presented at their
fences.

I know it is often said that you cannot "collect11
a horse in a snaffle bridle, but in Ireland I have not
noticed that the horses ridden b:r horsemen (the pro-
portion of horsemen to riders is, I think, higher in
the sister Isle than with us) sprawl about or show
any sign of not being well held together, and the snaffle
is almost universal. As a rule, they are, I admit,
riding on lighter and sounder ground, but also, as a
rule, they are riding greener and less "made:' horses.
If the English hunts were polled, there would be an almost
solid vote for the double bridle; but, if you could
lower the franchise and admit the horses we hunt to
the polling booth, I think it would be found that they
went equally solidly for the snaffle. There must, of
course, be good in a bridle that is so universally
popular with English hunting men as the double bridle,
but I would suggest that when a horse is found to be going
uncomfortably in it, it is well to remember there is an
alternative,' and that a snaffle should be given a trial.

If you want to ride all sorts of horses and make
them carry you to hounds, I hold that you must have^
patience and good temper, with plenty of determination.

_4-

Ride your horse in the mildest bit in which he will go
to your liking, keep your reins long, and your hands
wide apart. "Throw in a strong seat and good hands,
and there are very few horses that will not go where
and as you mean thern to.

A really strong seat can be acquired by any active
lad who gives his mind to it. Long steady trotting in
a saddle, without stirrups, goes a long way towards it.
This, however, must be persevered in, or it does not
strengthen and develop the riding muscles; moreover, it
is useless unless the rider sits properly. The grip
must be got entirely with thigh and knee; if the toes
are turned out and a grip obtained with the back of the
calves, the exercise is without effect, for the wrong
muscles are then brought into play.

Let me give two instances from my Argentine ex-
perience, to 'show to what perfection strength in the
saddle can be brought, or, rather, strength on a horse,
since both feats were on the bareback. The first
exhibited sheer strength of seat such as I have never
seen equalled; the second, absolute perfection of
balance and grip combined.

A "bagual" had been caught up, as I wished to try my
very 'prentice hand at breaking. low, a "bagual" has
never been made a pet - he will not eat sugar out of your
hand. ^e is at least five or six years old, and there-
fore strong, and he has come in contact with man but
twice in his life, once when lassoed and knocked over to
be branded, and once for another operation. The mares
in my day were never ridden or broken. This particular
"bagual"' was very violent - smashed a lasso and knocked
men about freely. So violent was he that I gladly fell
in with the suggestion that a more experienced rider
should mount him for the first ride. Argentine methods
of breaking are abrupt, and the first ride is given
directly the animal is caught - as soon, in fact, as a
piece of raw hide can be tied in its mouth as a bit and a
saddle got on its back.

-5-

The first ride over, the "bagual" was laboriously

towed up to a tieing post, and. had just reached it,
when he flung himself over and broke the raw-hide
rope on his halter. ." big "Domador", or professional
horsebreaker was standing near. It was not his show,
and he looked graceful, but very indolent, uninterested,
and sleeps-'. But when this accident happened, he
became fully awake with rather startling and effective
suddenness. A horse was standing near him, bridled
but without a saddle. . ith a bound the man was up,
and the trained cattle-horse was at full speed in a
few strides. Before the "bagual" had really got go!
they were alongside; but the troop of mares and colts
with which the "bagual" ran had been let out of the
corral, and with his companions in front it seemed
incredible that any man could stop hi: . It was an
exciting moment as the?/' tore on, locked together. Then
the "Domador" leaned over and caught the two feet of
raw hide that hung from the halter. Still au top
speed, tearing over rough and smooth as it came, he

e ver;-r sure of his grip, twisting the raw hide well
round his hand. Then came the tug of war. Lyi
far back, and exerting s grip o is own horse that must
have been that of an iron vice, he began to stop him
very gradually. For a few strides it seemed as if he
must be torn off; but his great strength prevailed, and
both horses stopped. The tamer (for that is the literal
translation of "Domador") had won, and actually proceeded
to tow the "bagual" back with hi . Help soon reached
him, and, handing over his charge, he trotted back,
unsmiling and indifferent, and lit a cigarette, evidently
considering that the incident was closed and required
no remark on his part.

he other case happened at shearing time. very
small ..ith short legs had turned up and been engaged
for the work. : as a stranger and unknown to the
other shearing hands. One day he was asked where he
came from and what he worked at when at home. The
very small man replied that he came from Corrientes
and was a "Domador". His questioner laughed and told
him his legs were too short for horse tamin After
that the small man had to put up with a good deal of

I

-6-

chaff, and was always called the "Domador". He laid
no further claim to the title, and the chaff did not
appear to worry him. But a day came when there was
either more of it than usual, or the little man's
temper was wearing thin, and he did speak. What he
said was: "Get any horse you like, and I will ride him
and show you that I am a "Domador" ' . Then he went on
with his work.

There was almost always on an h.stancia one perfect
fiend in horsehide, kept for such occasions, never ridden
unless some young blood wanted to give a show, or the
peons wished to take the conceit out of some newcomer.
Such a one we had in our "Big Zaino", and the little man
was told he could try his hand on it the following Sunday,
and that, if he could ride it, all chaff would cease.

Sunday came. The "big Zaino" was run up early
into the corral. At the hour fixed for the show the
shearing hands and everybody else on the place trooped
down there. The little man walked down too, but he did not
carry with him his recado (saddle) or bridle. Men
wondered, and feared that he was going to cry off, and
that they would miss their show; but his expression was
not the expression of a man who intended to shirk.

■alking into the corral, he asked a peon to lasso
the "big Zaino" and to drag it up near the slip rails.
Then he asked some bystanders to slip the rails out,
walked up to the horse, vaulted on, and told the peon to
free him. No doubt the horse thought he saw his way
to one of the easiest of his long roll of victories,
and with one rocketing bound was through the opening.
That, to his surprise, did not displace the little rider,
and he went on his way, bucking like the perfect devil
he was ; still the little man sat there. Now our
champion bucker felt he must do his very best. ith
a free unbridled head and unencumbered by saddle, he had
all points in his favour; yet the easy victory had not
come. Yet he had in reserve further devilments; he

-7-

began to lose ground as he bucked - rather to buck
backwards, as it were. (I may say that, as long as
a bucker travels forwards, he is a little easier to
sit). Then as he bucked he twisted and turned, tied
and untied himself in all his best knots, doing full
and complete .iustice to his very evil reputation.
Still the little man sat on - not only sat on, but
dealt him at intervals shrewd blows with his raw-hide
whip. Then the climax came, for the little man leant
right forward and smacked the sweating neck with both
his hands. Prom those who knew best a little gasp of
admiration went up. With that the little man seemed
to think that he had made good, and soon after, swinging
his right leg over the neck, landed, lightly on his feet,
leaving the "big Zaino" to clear out to his own troop
and to ponder over what kind of adhesive plaster shaped
like unto a man he bad come in cont ct with! If, as
he strolled back to the corral, there was a slight
suggestion of swagger in his walk, who can blame the
little man? It was a fine feat of horsemanship, and
he had made good. he was actually given a cheer - a
very, very "are exhibition of feeling with the peons -
and was chaffed no more.

To those who have not ridden buck- jumping horses
I may explain that to lean forward and remain, when
a horse is bucking badly, is a terribly difficult
feat even in stirrups. ho write have In my time
leant forward several times (on my part, I may remark,
an entirely involuntary movementTT anc^ the next moment
found myself no longer riding, but flying. I never
liked the change; the flight was comparatively short,
and the ground very hard when :rou hit It.

Those peons of Entre Rios have left with me a very
kindly recollection. I liked their keen but immovable
Indo-Spanish faces, liked their easy grace and superb
horsemanship. It is true they had their faults - their
big knives and their quick tempers - and I admit those
Englishmen who knew them best were the most careful (I
talk of the early 'eighties) never to take off their
revolvers. Still, they were brave men and they could
ride.

CHAPTER II .

We, too, sprung from the loins of the Ishmaelite

stallions,

We glory in daring that dies or prevails,
From the counter of squadrons and crash of battalions

To rending of blackthorns and rattle of rails.

LI EDS AY GORDON.

I once heard a cabman close a discussion he had
been engaged in, with a slightly intoxicated confrere,
with the remark: "You better get a jug that fits
you; the one you are wearing is too big."

So I would say to a novice: "Get a horse that
fits you, fits you in every way, and suits the country
you are going to hunt in." This, of course, is easy
enough if you can afford to go to one of the big
dealers, pay him his price, and with his help select
just what you want. Under such happy circumstances,
if the horse does not prove to your liking, you can
generally arrange to exchange it for another. That
makes things easy for the fairly wealthy man, and
for him many of the hints in this little book are
of no value. But if you have to pick up a cheap
hunter where you can, and make the best of it, it is
quite another matter. Don't, if you can avoid it,
buy a bigger horse than you actually need, first,
because little good ones are more easily found than
big good ones, and, secondly, because a man never
really goes as well on a horse that is too big for
him as on one that fits him.

I don't altogether believe in the "two stone
in hand" theory. If you take a big horse and a
little sharp horse, and gallop them at an even
11 stone 7 lbs., or 12 stone, over a few miles of
country, the little one is quite likely to win.

-9-

Of course, big men • have big horses, but I
never could see what small men gain by having tl
To come back to the start, get a horse that fits

you.

In picking up a cheap hunter, don't listen
to all 7/0U hear about him. He must have some
drawbacks or he would not be cheap, but there is
a great deal of nonsense talked about horses.
At the most, consult one friend whose judgment
you value and make up your own mind.

orses go in all shapes, but I would like
rather to insist on shoulders and, if possible,
on quality^ The very common one are rarely
satisfactory, but I fear the heavy-weight with
a light pocket will find that weight carriers
with quality are very hard to come by. As
regards shoulders, I am inclined to think that
very few men are really good judges of them.
Yet I have seldom met a hunting man who was
not convinced that he could tell the working
merits of a shoulder at a glance. With my
own horses I have noticed that those shoulders
which many men picked out as being unexceptional
were by no means those which I found the most
perfect in action. :oulders can, of course,
be judged best when you are in the saddle.

If you get a chance to ride a horse before
buying it, take him on to a pathway which is
a little above the roadway, walk him along it
with a loose rein, and let him step back into
the road. If he does it without any jar,
you may be sure he can use his shoulders.
Unless a policeman happens to take your name
for riding on the footpath, it is best to do
this several times before making quite sure.
I can't say I was ever troubled by the police,
but then most of my buying has been done in
Ireland.

"Pullers" are best avoided, really hard
pullers, especially in these sad days of wire.
They must anywhere add to the difficulty of

-10-

riding to hounds. Take a case, for Instance, when
you are tearing along beside a thick, impregnable
fence, with hounds running hard on the other side of
it, and apparently bending from you. Suddenly you
come on a hole through which you can pop. With a
handy horse you can pull up short and jump into the
same field as the hounds, but with a puller it is
different. You have to estimate how long it will
take to stop him, and whether it will be better to
hold straight on and chance the swing of hounds away
from you not being serious, or to set to work to
stop and turn your over-resolute horse. Quickness
is a great asset in riding to hounds, and that is why
I insist on the handy horse that fits you.

I have seen a few men go marvellously well on
pullers, and Custance, in his book of "Riding Re-
collections," tells of Captain Trotter coming out
with the Quorn on a horse on which he had the most
powerful tackle that could be invented. Yet the
horse galloped straight through a strong flight of
rails, straight through the pack, and ran away for
two miles. He goes on to tell how Captain Trotter
brought the horse back and finished his day on him.
He bought him that evening for a small sum, and even-
tually made him into a very good hunter and sold him
for a large one.

But then we are not all Jock Trotters. Probab-
ly no better or more powerful horseman ever got into
a hunting saddle. Whatever horse found itself be-
tween his legs became a hunter. I saw him once on
the first of October, in one of the latest seasons
I have ever known, take on a very strong section of
the Pytchley country, riding a horse that knew very
little, anyway, when Trotter started on him that
morning. The country, except that the going was
soft, was in exactly the same condition it had been
all summer, and when I add that he was then far from
young, the reader can judge what manner of man Jock
Trotter was. My advice is, leave those sort of pul-
lers to such men, and there are not many of them.
A moderate puller, if not old, can very often, by
mild bitting and careful handling, be entirely cured.
A great many men, of course, are not happy unless
their horse takes hold to a certain extent. I don't

-11-

like it myself, and, by using mild bits and riding
with long reins, I always tried to cure a horse of
taking hold, and, as I rarely bought anything but
young horses, generally succeeded.

To ensure a horse going kindly and pleasantly,
riding with long reins is a great secret, and a
secret I for one found most difficult to learn.
It is so easy in theory to keep them long, and so
hard in practice when a horse is "at" you. Dick
Christian knew what he was talking about when he
said: "Always give them plenty of rope." If you
are going to pick up moderate horses cheap and
turn them into good ones, you must learn to do that.

A buyer of cheap ones must make up his mind
quickly, for a seller, once he has determined to
cut a loss and get rid of a horse, generally loses
no time over the operation. If you find, in a
quick, cheap deal, that you have got hold of a
really unsound one, sell him again at once. If
you don't waste money on his keep, but get rid of
him, you can't lose much. You have bought cheap,
and will always get a few pounds back at auction.
If you have a farm, or other means of keeping
your crock quite cheaply, that alters the case a
little, but I always made it my rule to get quit./

I remember once, though, being saved by luck
from making a bad mistake in this way with a little
mare I owned called Peace. She went constantly
lame, and the vet. said he thought it was in the
feet. I had just had her run out, one frosty
morning, when I was in no sweet temper or optimis-
tic mood, and found her lame again. A friend
who did a little horse-dealing happened to look
in, and I said: "There you are - twenty-five
pounds, and she is yours". He did not take her,
and that very day my man Grant located the real
trouble - a tiny splint under the knee. I hun-
ted her straight on, and she never missed her
turn again, and proved one of the soundest and
best. When I got ill and had to sell my horses,
she made a hundred and sixty guineas at auction.
I think I am right in saying that Baroness Burton,
who bought her, and with whom she made a great

-12-

name, refused double that sura from a dealer.

That was a chance. to pick up a cheap one, but
the buyer would have had to be quick, and if he had
come back in half an hour, I don't suppose I should
have been on. However, there does not appear to
be any other moral in the tale, for I do not recom-
mend anyone to buy unsound ones. It is difficult
enough to keep the sound ones fit if sport is good
and you are shoving them along.

One thing I would Impress on a lad: don't be
afraid of buying a horse because he goes badly
with another man whom you consider a superior rider
to yourself. He may have a groom that upsets it;
he may have too many horses, and this one may not
get enough work to steady it. He may once, through
his own fault, have got wrong with the horse, and
horses never forget. You may, too, be better than
you think, and the other man may be beginning to
feel the loss of nerve, though still a secret between
himself and that particular horse in whom he has
lost confidence. And, above all, remember that a
horse may go badly with one man and well with another,
quite independently of their merits as horsemen.
I know one very peculiar case bearing in a manner
on this. The horse had been a good one, but gradu-
ally got the better of his owner, and he lent it
to different people to see what they could make of
it. With one man he .lumped well, but pulled ter-
ribly hard - in fact, f airly took charge and ran
away. With a lady he did not pull an ounce, but
refused every fence she put him at; and with an-
other man he neither palled nor refused, but never
rose properly, got about half-way up a fence, and
proved a most dangerous ride.

Now, the first man was a most consummate horse-
man, and had in perfection the art of giving them
rope. The lady was a very good rider, for whom
horses generally went well. The other man certainly
had the knack of making his horses jump. I don't
know what became of the horse, but it is quite pos-
sible if he found an owner to suit him, that he
v/ould again become a good hunter.

-13-

Another case I came across in Ireland. I was
put on the horse with the idea of seeing how he
would go with me. Nothing was said about his pul-
ling proclivities; he was a most perfect type of
fourteen stone hunter, full of quality, and his
manners were apparently good. Yet some instinct
warned me that, once set going, he would prove a
real handful. Fortunately, on coming away with
their first fox, hounds ran along some very deep
meadows beside a road. Nobody went into them,
except the servants, who, coming out of cover with
hounds, could not avoid doing so.

This, I thought, is a chance to prove if my
instinct is right or not. So I turned my horse,
and he bounded out of the lane, cleverly but with
extraordinary resolution. Then he got going in
earnest, and I soon knew I had gauged him correct-
ly. At the third fence we had closed up, and a
whipper-in was in front of me; It seemed certain
he would be well into the next field before I
reached the fence, but, as a precaution, I took
a strong steadier at my horse. The only result
of the attempted steadier was a rush which one
might call terrific and which took me right on
to the whipper-in. I caught his horse on the
quarter and sent that careful animal flying off
the top of the bank at a pace he had not contem-
plated. Luckily no actual harm was done, and
neither of us fell. Soon afterwards we checked,
and I managed to pull up. The owner of my free-
going mount showed no anxiety to change, but I
was quite firm, and threatened to let the horse
go and walk home if he did not. So he reluctant-
ly climbed on to the resolute one, and in due
course disappeared into space, while I enjoyed
an excellent hunt on his horse.

Now, the curious thing about that horse was
that many first-class men tried to ride him, in-
cluding steeplechase jockeys who did not mind at
what pace he did his walls and banks, yet no one
succeeded, except one inexperienced lad, for whom
he went delightfully. The lad, unfortunately,
could not buy him. The result was, a horse up

-14-

to weight and full of quality, that if rideable was
worth big money, went, such was his evil reputation,
for a few pounds to drag out his life in a side-car.

I would suggest, if you can only buy a cheap
one, don't be afraid of taking a risk. It is much
better to buy a horse worth good money, with some
fault or vice, at a cheap price than to buy a com-
mon slow horse that has no particular "crab," yet
who will never really satisfy you. You ma?/- straight-
en out the former, but you can never alter Nature's
handiwork in the latter.

To the man who has to pick up cheap horses I
would say: Carefully study make and shape (there
are many excellent books on that subject, which
greatly help), but avoid all fads, and do not ex-
pect to buy a cheap one without some faults. If
you do, it will probably mean you have got hold of
an unenterprising brute without faults or merits.
In forming our opinion of a horse, we unluckily can-
not see the most vital point of all - the heart.
If only we could really tell by looking at them what
horses are stout-hearted "stayers," what a comfort
it would be I But all we can do is to look for good
girth and room for heart and lungs.

I have read somewhere that John Scott, "The
Wizard of the North," said of legs, "the best-look-
ing go first." I don't know that I would go as far
as that as regards hunters' legs, but I must say I
am never afraid of legs that fill, and have many a
time proved them to last well.

For a light weight who wants to hunt cheaplv.
and has no ambition to make his own hunters er ta-
lent for "straightening out" queer-tempered horse ,
1 would without hesitation recommend cobs or ponies.
The small ones can nearly always be bought cheaply,
for dealers don't want them. Then, again, they
require less skilled stable management, are cheaper
to feed when in work, and cheaper to summer, for
they are much more hardy. I often think that un-
less we go back to pony blood for our hunters, we
shall get them too highly bred and delicate, but
that is another matter. A light weight on a really

-15-

brilliant cob or pony can go anywhere a horse can
go, and often where he cannot.

I remember some years ago a grey polo ponj ,
ridden by a lady in the Grafton country. It is
not a country I should pick out as most suitable
to a pony, yet that little grey jumped it to per-
fection. Early or late in the day, wherever that
lady's pilot went, the grey went. The pilot, I
may add, was a very hard-riding husband mounted
on big and also very good hunters.

I have often heard it objected that a cob makes
the fences look big, but, as long as they are jumped
safely and well, I never could see that it mattered
what they looked like. And if you do get a fall,
it is much pleasanter - or, at least, less unpleas-
ant - to have a light little one on you than a heavy
big one. I have owned several really brilliant lit-
tle ones, and seen sport well in many different coun-
tries on them. One of the best I bought in an odd
way. I rode her with hounds one day in Ireland.
She was so wild I thought she would never do for hunt-
ing. Whether it was to practise her jumping or to
try to jump me off I know not, but she insisted on
taking wild bounds into the air, so violent and sud-
den that I could not stop her. One of her jumps
took her more or less over another horse's quarters,
and I heard the rider remark to a friend: "He had
me lepped entirely, and he changed on my head."
However, he received my apologies most kindly.
They are more forbearing towards young horses in
Ireland than in England; there I might have been
told that if I could not ride my horse I had better
take it home. I decided not to buy her, as I thought
that when full of good oats she would be unrideable.
Later I was told she was perfectly quiet in harness,
and as I wanted a trapper and she had the merit of
being cheap, I bought her. She was fairly right in
harness, and I used to drive my mother in a very low
pony phaeton with her, as it was the only kind of
trap my mother could then get into, and to the last
she had iron nerves. The mare, if checked or kept
standing, did rather twist and turn the long phae ton
about, until there was some excuse for a friend's
remark that "she looked like an eel on a night-line";

-16-

but she never "threw a lep" when in it but once, and
then I was luckily alone, just coming out of the
stable-yard. She knocked a bird-cage off the wall
at such a height that I resolved there and then that
so much talent for jumping must be turned to some ac-
count. I gave her a little training and took her to
Hurlingham, where she won the jumping prize, and at
Ranelagh, too, she jumped perfectly, only just touch-
ing the water with a hind foot, and being a very good
second. I never tried her again in the show ring,
but I have no doubt that with careful training she
might have won many prizes.

When the winter came, I felt I must try my trap-
per as a hunter, but I hardly knew what the result
would be. However, in two or three days she came
perfectly to hand, and a more brilliant little hunter
I never owned. I saw many a good hunt on her with
the Pytchley, Grafton, and Meynell. She was what
they call in Ireland a "polo," but whether she could
ever have been measured I know not. But many a
good, cheap little hunter could be picked up under
that heading in the Emerald Isle. It was especially
easy to buy them if the sellers thought in their
hearts that they would never really measure for the
game. Nearly all Irish ponies and cobs seem to be
born jumpers and to need very little schooling. I
remember a young Irish friend of mine coming out
hunting a few years ago on an Irish polo pony. He
assured me it had never in its life been schooled
or jumped over a fence. I have been in Ireland
several times, and do not accept without hesitation
all that an Irishman tells me about a horse or pony,
but certainly in the morning that particular pony
did not appear to know anything, yet he improved at
every fence. We had a sharp little gallop late,
when it fenced very well indeed. I need hardly add
that my young friend was a consummate horseman, as
so many of his countrymen are.

In the next chapter I will tell, for the encour-
agement of hard-up youth, of two cheap hunters I
owned in years gone by. That they were cheap can-
not be denied, as their total cost was ten pounds,
and in telling of them I honestly think, with the
help of my diary, I have kept strictly to facts, and
have not allowed memory to exaggerate their merits
or failings.

CHAPTER III.

'Twas merry in the glowing morn, among the gleaming

grass,
To wander as we've wandered many a mile,
And blow the cool tobacco cloud and watch the white

wreaths pass,
Sitting loosely in the saddle all the while.

LINDSAY GORDON.

I had just returned from the Argentine, where I
had fairly lived in the saddle, parting cattle, train-
ing horses, riding races, and playing polo, so I was in
good riding trim, and keen to get a hunter; but owing
to the state of my finances paying for one was a
difficulty.

One day, having to go into a house-agent's yard at
Epsom, though not the sort of place one expects to find
a horse, I saw a chestnut cob. I asked the man about
it, who told me he had seized it for debt, and expected
soon to get leave from the Court to sell it. I made
a few more inquiries, and was almost certain it was the
same cob of which John Jones, who then trained the
Prince of Wales's chasers, had spoken, telling me it
was a "rum 'un" to ride, but a great jumper. A few
days after that the house-agent led it up to my house
and asked me to buy it. I said I must have a ride
first, and got a saddle. As soon as I got near her
the cob gave a squeal and went for me. The owner was
terrified, but luckily there was a gardener on the
premises who had been a groom, and between us we got on
a saddle, and at last, seizing my chance, I got up.
She was not really bad to sit — in fact, squealing was
her forte — but there was a short and very steep
avenue down from the house, and on that she fairly let
herself go, and kicked her best, ending up by giving
the gate-post one resounding bang that left a mark which

-18-

I saw was still there years after I had left the house.
She soon settled down, and I rode her over a few fences
and took her back. I bid the man ten pounds, which he
refused with scorn, so I told him to take her away.
Now, she had either made up her mind to stay with me,
or there was something about the house-agent she did
not like. Whenever he went towards her she screamed
and he jumped; if he did not jump quickly enough, she
swung round and lashed out at him. It was a very funny
scene, and I really think the cob had a sense of humour
and enjoyed it.

I have had many a horse trade since that morning,
but never have I had a seller so completely at a dis-
advantage; in fact, I always felt I owed the cob some-
thing for the assistance she gave me in the deal.
As he could not take her away, he took my tenner and
the cob was mine.

It required a little self-confidence to buy her,
but it nearly always requires that to pick up a cheap
one of any sort. She was not a difficult mare to sit,
and never' really tried hard to get you off, seldom
bucked and had no nasty tricks, such as trying to scrape
her rider off against a wall. But she just kicked, and
kicked from habit; it was tiring, I allow, but nothing
else. She even gave that up to some extent.

I remember well the first day I rode her out hunting,
It was with staghounds, and while we were waiting for
the pack to be laid on, and she was just kicking a little
to pass the time away, H. Ripley rode up and looked at
her hard. He was at that time very well known between
the flags, and one of the hardest men to hounds I have
ever seen. After a long look he remarked to me: "So
you have got that little mare. I owned her once.
Take my advice and kill her before she kills you." I
was really glad that hounds came up just then and pre-
vented further conversation. She went well that day
and every other. I have owned many a high-class
brilliant hunter since, but not a great many better
ones, and certainly never a sounder one. She was very
good-looking, with a perfect forehand, and had quite a
nice turn of speed.

-19-

She proved a most valuable riding master to me
for this reason: she was always a little shifty, yet
if ridden strongly, quietly, and carefully at a fence,
she seldom or never refused. The least carelessness
she noticed and took advantage of. On the other hand,
If you made any extra effort to rouse her with hands,
whip, or legs, you only aroused her suspicion that there
was something extra nasty to jump, and she refused.
She had been grossly overfaced and forced into impossible
fences.

Now, I hold that learning to put a horse strongly
and quietly at a fence is a very important matter, and
that she taught me. A horse should be made to feel
with hands and knees that he cannot "cut it," but should
never be bustled or excited.

I never rode her in the Midlands, but, besides
riding her with foxhounds in Surrey, I rode her with
the Epsom Drag, with staghounds, and the Windsor Drag
when it came our side. There was plenty of competition,
and we managed to hold our own. I remember once being
rather proud of her. I was returning after a ride with
the drag, in company with some jockeys, and they began
trying to ride over a seat. it was not high, but nar-
row, and of course there was nothing to keep a horse
from running out. She was the only one that did it.
I was down, with her on me, several' times, and once I
was pulled, at a thick place, clean over her quarters,
and although I fell against her heels, she never touched
me.

After a time I bought a stable companion for her,
another ten-pounder, a little thoroughbred mare, with
rather straight shoulders and a sad lack of brains.
She, however, gave me much instruction in the art of
falling, and one must not expect too much for ten
pounds. I only mention her because I thought the cob's
temper rather improved after her arrival. I always
hold that loneliness must be bad for horses, who are the
most sociable of animals. If a horse is turned out in
a field by himself he hates it; if there are any horses
grazing within sight he will spend nearly all his time
looking at them from the nearest point he can reach,
because he feels lonely.

■20-

Note, too, how worried many a horse geta when his
stable companion goes out; he watches for its return,
and will, on recognising its step at an incredible
distance, begin to call to it, settling down at once
on its return. It may be argued that such worrying
is bad for a horse, but I would reply that it is quickly
over (all outward signs of it passing off if the com-
panion is out for any time), while the pleasure at the
return is so evident as to emphasise the craving which
all horses appear to have for companionship.

In the Argentine I have often come in from a
journey or long day's work with cattle on a horse that
was really beat and hungry. Stable management was
simple. All that one did was to scrape the saddle
sweat with the back of one's big knife and turn loose;
but no matter how tired the horse was, he would trot
about the home "potrero" until he found his companions,
and never settled down to rest or feed until he had
done so. Yet men building or altering stables often
go to considerable extra expense to doom their horses to
loneliness. Solitary confinement is the most terrible
punishment that can be inflicted on man, and I greatly
fear that horses, although they cannot tell us so,
suffer but little less. I think it tends to make the
bad-tempered horse worse, and the nervous one more ner-
vous.

But to return to the cob. I hunted her for some
seasons, and she was always fit; but she remained
vicious in the stable, and very difficult to shoe or
clip. Eventually I gave her to a friend to breed from,
and after two peaceful years she gave her last squeal
and died to feed foxhounds. She never had a foal —
maybe just as well with such a temper — but her make
and shape made it, I thought, worth risking.

The moral of the cob seems to me: Never be afraid
of risking a cheap one because you think you may not be
able to ride it; and, as a second moral, by riding all
sorts you educate yourself and improve your horsemanship,

The next interesting mare I owned was Friendship.
That was in 1894, and I had acquired a good deal of ex-
perience in the intervening years. Now, the cob's

-21-

temper was, I think, the result to a great extent of
teasing and bullying; Friendship's was horn with her.
The cob taught me a great deal; Friendship received
her entire education from me.

I first saw her as an unnamed three-year-old in
Essex (she was bred in Ireland). she came up in the
most gentle and friendly way (she always had a kind and
confiding eye), and after letting me rub her nose, sud-
denly whipped round and lashed out. When she was four,
my Essex friend, for whom. I rode many young ones, wrote
and said they had begun to break her, but found her so
vicious that unless I cared to take her he would have
her shot. I consulted my stout-hearted groom, Peter
Grant, who seemed quite ready to take her on, so I sent
for her.

I may say here that from first to last she remained
incurably vicious in the stable. no one could "do" her
but Grant, and, although she got very fond of him, she
broke his ribs at least once. Breaking her was not all
plain sailing, but she came to hand in time. She had
a perfect mouth and lovely paces, so she took very little
out of me, and luckily she never put me off, although
she tried very, very hard, and gave me many a rough seat.
This gave me confidence in the battles that were to come
out hunting, and helped to defeat her. My first refer-
ence to her in my hunting diary is in October 1894,
when, after telling of the doings of the Meynell hounds,
with whom I was hunting, I add: "Rode Friendship, who
went as badly as a horse can go." So it went on; some
days she would go fairly well, but more often she did
nothing but refuse, buck, and kick. At last things
came to a head. I had pretty well made up my mind to
give her up and send her for hounds to eat, and care-
lessly rode her at a very small fence close to a gate
people were going through. She refused, and I went
through the gate. I should not have done this unless
I had despaired of her, for riding at a fence so placed
is wrong, and letting off a refuser is worse, and I was
soon to have a practical lesson in the harm I had done.
We were striding nicely along in the very next field.
She was fresh and untired, the going was sound and horses
were galloping beside her. Suddenly she shut off steam
and stopped dead. I spurred her and she retaliated by

-22-

trying to get hold of my feet with her teeth. Now,
I can keep my temper with a young one, but when it does
go, it goes pretty completely. I just let her stand
still for a minute, and we were soon alone, as no strag-
glers or second horsemen were coming that way. "Now,
my lass," I said, "we will fight this to a finish."
Then, letting her head go more or less (I knew she could
not buck me off), I devoted all my strength to punish-
ment. At it we went, she bucking and kicking, I let-
ting her have it with whip and spur. I don't know how
long it took, but she tired at last and accepted her
defeat. Then we went on and soon found hounds. For
the rest of the day she never turned her head again,
and from that day onwards she began slowly and steadily
to improve. Even when she did refuse, she refused
without her old determination. When I left the Meynell
that winter I sent her to Leicester with my other
horses. They sold well enough, but there was no bid
for Friendship, only, as she was run up, a decided move-
ment to the rear, "according to plan," of onlookers and
buyers, for she had established quite a reputation in
the yard by kicking anyone who wanted to look her over
out of her box. So I had to keep her, and I am very
glad I did. She kept on improving, and carried me very
well in the Grafton country, which is by no means an
easy one to cross. I recollect one day when they were
on their woodland side, and few were out, seeing a very
good hunt on her in which she gave me great satisfaction,
It was rather foggy — a day on which it was necessary
to cling closely to hounds if one was to see them at all,
Just as they were settling to run really hard, we came
on one of those high hairy bullfinches so common in the
Grafton country. For a moment it seemed impregnable;
then I spotted a place I thought might do. My ex-
refuser went for it like a lion, and after a struggle
we emerged somehow in the next field without an actual
fall. I was just in time to catch a glimpse of the
flying pack, the great dog hounds looking as big as
bullocks in the mist. We made a six-mile point, the
latter part of it as straight as a Roman road, and
hounds ran so fast that, unless my mare had bored that
hole, nobody would have seen the way they went. It is
surely worth while, let me remark in passing, to keep a
little extra in hand for such emergencies. If horses
are often shoved into such fences when not actually

-23-

necessary, they will take to refusing. Alas! youth
does not always know when it is or is not necessary,
and old ones who have learnt the lesson have lost their
dash — the glorious dash and go of youth!

I often think of Friendship when I hear it laid
down that no horse is ever vicious unless made so by
man. But I never contradict, for it is an admirable
sentiment, and true in ninety cases or more out of a
hundred. But as far as Friendship was concerned, if
Grant erred at all in his management of her, he was too
good and kind to her.

I consider Friendship a good example of what per-
severance can do, for in her second season she was a
fair hunter and steadily improved. By some strange
chance I have kept two old letters which go to prove
how good she became. As a nine-year-old she developed
an unsoundness, and I sent her over to the Grafton
kennels to be shot. I was away at the time, and Tom
Bishop, then hunting the Grafton, was very anxious to
keep her to breed from, against my advice". I have a
letter from Major Wiseman, of Eastcote, saying he would
give the use of his horse Delandre, adding': "Bishop
says she is one of the best he ever saw out hunting."
So I gave her to Bishop, and have his letter thanking
me and speaking of her in the same way.

The moral to be derived from Friendship is, I think,
when dealing with a bad one, stop and have it out; never
mind the hunt for once, but fight to a finish. Avoid
disagreement and punishment as you would avoid poison;
but if it must come to a fight, then let it be a fight
to a finish"^ and if you do not come out a winner, don't
go on with the horse.

■ooOoo-

CHAPTER IV.

Brave son of Belzoni, be true to your breeding,
Sustain old traditions, remember jour sires.

EGERTON WARBURTON.

It is generally admitted that it is difficult
to find men who can ride four-year-olds to hounds
really well and carefully, men who can turn the raw
material, a four-year-old, into the finished article,
a hunter with manners .

That being so, considering the number of riding
men who try, we may fairly argue that it is not a
perfectly easy process, and I think I may be able to
give a few hints which to a novice in hunter-making
will be useful

There is no manner of doubt that a lad who
wants to ride four-year-olds in the making, and ride
them well, must have good nerves, a strong seat and
fine bands. Anyone who is reckless and excitable is
almost sure to fail, for he will get his four-year-
old into difficulties and lose its confidence/ Here
we have the cause of a great, if not the greatest,
trouble in finding good riders of four-year-olds;
it is so hard to find a man with iron nerves who is
free from a tendency to recklessness.

However, if a lad has not good nerves he will
not enjoy riding young ones, and if it is not more
or less a joy to him, he will never do much good at
it. Bad or indifferent nerves very quickly react
on the young horse; some small thing frightens him,
a wild bound across the road is the result. If that
startles the rider, the pupil is conscious of it at
once, and it makes him more nervous; but if the rider
sits still and is quite unperturbed, the youngster

-25-

soon settles. I always used to jeer at them and tell
them not to be Idiots, for I am a firm believer in the
power of the human voice, and think that a horse very
soon knows every change of tone. Most people know
the story of the great Assheton Smith lending a good
hunter to a friend, and to his disgust seeing the horse
being pulled up as they approached some tall timber.
One shout from the voice he knew sent the horse bound-
ing over, in total disregard of his nervous rider's
wishes.

"The Druid", too, in "Scott and Sebright", is very
interesting on this point. "It is a pretty general
opinion", he writes, "among trainers that horses can-
not tell one person from another except by the voice,
and that in this respect they are like fairy 'Fine
Ear'. Ellerdale, for instance, took no notice of Tom
Dawson when he went to see her at Admiral Harcourt's
some four or five years after she had left his stable;
but the moment he said "Coachman", she wheeled round
and struck at him quite viciously. Mentor was quite
as odd this way, and he proved pretty well that the
dislike arises from the association of the voice with
the orders at exercise". The paragraph closes with
the remark: "Meretrix became so fidgety from hearing
Pobert's voice at exercise that he was obliged to employ
a code of stick and hand signals to the boy .

I used the voice a great deal, and often^sung or
whistled to a young one when he was in an irritable or
nervous state. It seems to soothe them, and reminds
me of a story against myself, which would go to prove
that horses are not severe critics where the voice is
concerned. I was riding home with a friend after a
big hunt with the Devon and Somerset staghounds. We
had a twenty-mile ride, and his horse was very beat,
and we had to go slowly. Conversation had run down
and I asked him, to pass the time away, if he would
like a song or a recitation. He rashly chose a song,
and although almost as soon as I began he hurriedly
said he had changed his mind and would like a recitation,
I carried on and finished my song. After a silence
my companion in a thoughtful and worried tone remarked
that he feared his horse was more beat than he had
imagined. I foolishly asked him why? 'Well , he said,

-26-

"he mast be terribly beat, for he made only a faint
effort to trot on and get away from your song".
But this does not affect my argument as to the voice
being of great use in training young horses, and only
goes to prove that they accept the voice as they find
it, and are not critical as to its timbre.

I well remember a far from pleasant Irish expe-
rience of mine bearing on the power of the voice.
I was riding a farmer's horse that my host in County
Limerick had borrowed for me. .'e did little in the
morning, and although he seemed rather "reluctant"
and sticky, I got him to jump the banks fairly well.
Late in the day we found in a nice hill gorse and ran
sharply along the hillside. The walls were tall and
my mount refused persistently. I got him over three,
but only after repeated refusals at each. By the time
I reached the fourth wall the hunt had entirely vanish-
ed, for there were very few left out and the light was
not good - "low visibility", as we should say now.
The fourth wall was the tallest of any, and I abandoned
the contest and made for a road, a sadder but not wiser
man, for I felt certain the fault lay with me, although
I could not tell where my horsemanship had failed.
The owner's explanation was, if my memory serves me,
as follows: "Sure, your honour, there is not a bigger
lepped horse in Limerick, but if you meet a big wall
you must let a shout out at him as you come in under
it". With my belief in the power of the voice, I
was quite ready to accept the explanation and leave it
at that, but not so the owner. He was determined to
bring home to me that properly ridden, or, rather, pro-
perly shouted at, his horse could .lump. The next day
I hunted, he brought him out, and where I went he went.
Just as I put my horse at a fence, with a yell that
only an Irishman could achieve, he rushed past me and
generally lumped the exact spot I was aiming at.
It was an annoying experience, not lessened by seeing
the horse lumping exceedingly well for another man.
I tried flattery and I tried expostulation, but with-
out effect. He had come out to show me how his horse
could jump, and he carried out his plan.

So I say, don't be afraid of using your voice; it
may often prove of great value. I have heard it said

that when a man shouts at his horse, it shows his
nerves are bad. But that's only fool talk; do the
best you can for your young one, and never mind what
people say or think about your nerves.

All young ones that are worth anything will want
a "set to" at times; they only want a game of romps,
just as a puppy does. If you let them go half across
a field, bucking, kicking, and pretending to bolt,
they are soon done with it and come to hand in a good
temper. One must not, of course, encourage a young
horse to play the fool, or it may become a habit or
trick; but it is far better to let him have his fling
than to hang on to his mouth. A young hunter, as
long as he retains his mouth, can, as his education
goes on, be taught anything and put just where you
want him. But if the moment he shows any desire for
a little play he is taken hard by the head, his mouth
will very soon deteriorate.

In nothing are nerves so essential as in giving
a youngster a good mouth. The nervous rider is always
expecting his mount to "play up", and in order to
check this tendency keeps him fast by the head, so that
the young tender mouth is inevitably deadened and even-
tually quite spoilt. Then very often the last state
of that rider is worse than the first, for a horse with
a really hardened mouth can "set to", no matter how
hard his rider hangs on to it.

Fortunately, young mouths that have been hardened
can generally be got perfectly right, if taken in time
and ridden with long reins and very light hands.
I have at different times taken over the riding of
four-year-olds whose mouths had been hardened and dead-
ened," and who had grown used to an iron grip.
Their surprise at not being taken hard by the head was
almost comic, and it was clear to me that the grip
was most expected when the pace was increased from
walk to trot or from trot to canter. It was from this
I argued that the iron grip was due to nerves, for in
changing pace the rider naturally thought there was
an increased chance of his mount bucking and kicking,
so increased his grip to try and counteract the tend-
ency. Such mouths with care, it is true, can be put

-28-

right, but they will never regain the silken per-
fection of mouths that have not known the heavy-
handed nervous grip. No horse should ever he allowed
to lean on the bit; that fault can always be cured.

Young horses soon get over their love of a game
of romps, especially if kept in steady work, and here
again the voice can be used with effect. Scold them
when romping and bucking, just to show you do not
really approve of it, but don't jerk them violently
in the mouth or knock them about; treat them as
you would a child. If you can retain the perfect
mouth, it makes it so very much easier to "balance"
your young one, and there we approach a very im-
portant point.

It is not easy to describe "balance", but if one
goes to the ring-side at any good horse show, when
riding classes for hunters are in the ring, one can
see it by watching the men showing horses for the
big dealers. Such men started with natural talent,
we may be quite sure of that, or they would never
have been given the riding to do; and this talent
has been developed by riding al"1 sorts of horses with
all sorts of failings, and by many hours spent in
preparing these very perfectly shaped horses for the
ring. The combined result is that you see balance
and manners in perfection. What balance is, must
be learnt by experience; but if your horse passes
easily from one pace to another, you may assume that
he is at least fairly balanced. If he slugs along
with his nose out, you may be sure he is not.
Another test is ridge and furrow; only a well-balanced
horse will cross that pleasantly. No horse can be
well balanced unless his head is in the right place,
neither too high nor too low, and with the nose neither
stuck out nor tucked in. I always hold that it
does not greatly matter where you hands are, as long
as your horse's head is carried right.

One thing you can be certain of - if a man's
horse in walking or trotting is constantly dropping
behind or getting in front of his companions, that
man does not balance his horse or ride him in the
true sense. He is merely a passenger borne along

-29-

by his horse. It is very easy with the heel to
keep a slow horse up, and with the hand to steady
back a fast walker or trotter. It was to me always
an instructive sight to watch the peons of Entre Rios
when out for a ride or travelling. Whatever number
were riding together, they moved in line with perfect
"dressing". The reason was that they were horsemen
to a man, each horse was balanced, and the fast
walkers steadied back, the slow ones kept up. And
so at every pace, trot or canter, the line was always
kept. Many young Englishmen came out who could not
ride and took no trouble to learn. The peons used
to say of such, as they went straggling along, that
they "travelled like wild geese".

If you have been able to balance your four-year-
old nicely and to give him a perfect mouth, the battle
is pretty well won. Remember never to take him by
surprise. Don't suddenly shoot him from a walk to
a trot; never, indeed, suddenly and without warning
change the pace either to increase or decrease it.
Give your horse warning with knees and rein, so that
he goes off in a perfectly collected way. This is
most important. In decreasing the pace I often used
the voice as warning, saving the mouth from anything
but a gentle pressure, which is then at once accepted
save by very keen and eager horses.

You cannot make your young hunter too handy,
and figures of eight done at the walk, trot, and canter,
are useful, as indeed are all bending practices.

As to jumping, most well-shaped horses soon
learn that. If opportunity offers, I would prefer
that the young one should get his first lessons by
having to go through a short run with a couple of
strong timber jumps in it, when turned out to grass
of a morning or evening. The timber at first can be
laid on the ground and gradually raised to about
four feet. In this way they take it coolly and as a
matter of course, and know a good deal about jumping
before you get on their backs. It also develops the
jumping muscles.

Then, when the young one has come nicely to

-30-

hand, is well balanced and will do whatever you
want, take him one day when not too fresh to a
small and easy course and ride him round it, or
better still, if you have a farm, ride him over a
few small natural fences. Don't ride in spurs and
avoid using a whip, but you may have just to show
it to him. A good jumping ring, if available, is
a useful adjunct. Use it a few times before you
ride your young one over fences, and if during the
progress of his jumping education he gives you
trouble, put him back into the ring for a time or
two, not too often. Recollect that the real
jumping education and polish must be given from
the saddle; you cannot make a horse take off exact-
ly as you wish when driving him round a ring, nor
can you direct him at any exact spot in the fence
or prevent a slight swerve in the last stride.
That slight swerve from the weak and selected spot
in a strong fence which many a badly broken hunter
makes just as he takes off is a very fruitful
source of falls.

Always try to make your horse take his jump
as a matter of course and without any excitement.
He should, if possible, be taught to hop over a
fence with as little fuss as when he changes pace
from walk to trot or trot to canter. That is why
it is so important to give all the first jumping
lessons when your horse is not fresh or above him-
self. And, above all, never bring a horse up to
a fence without making it perfectly clear to him
that he is expected to jump it.

If you take a young horse by surprise, he will
certainly either refuse or jump badly. There is
no doubt a little knack or skill required to make
it quite clear to your horse that he has got to
jump, and yet to do this without in any way exciting
him.

It is quite easy to rouse a horse for a jump
by an application of the whip or spurs, or by other
exciting moves of the arms or legs, but that of all
things is what you want to avoid with a young one.
It is also easy to trot or canter a horse up to a

-31-

fence without giving any indication that you expect
him to jump it. He will then come up to it quite
coolly, but most likely will not understand what you
want him to do; he will only realise in the last
stride or two that it is a question of jumping, and
the result will he either a refusal or a bad, scramb-
ling sort of jump.

Both ways are bad, over-rousing and exciting
the worst of the two. A better way is this: just
feel his mouth, possibly bringing his head up an inch
or two, at the same time get a really strong clip on
him with your knees and let that knee pressure in-
crease as you near the fence. Then a slight, almost
invisible movement of the hands (always have both on
the reins), and a word of cheer, and your young one
will take off exactly right, sail over his fence, en-
joying it as much as you do.

These first jumping lessons should be given in
a thick plain snaffle. That, in my opinion, is also
far the best bit for the first few days with the hounds;
after that a rider can consult his own individual
taste. Young horses can hardly be ridden too slowly
at their fences. So ridden, they jump off their
hocks and learn to measure their fences accurately.
I never hurried a young one even at water. Later,
when they have learnt their business, you can in-
crease the pace. With a smooth snaffle you lessen
the risk of a painful "job" in the mouth, which the
strongest-seated man may unintentionally deal to his
horse if he jumps in some unexpected way or pecks
heavily. There is no such fruitful source of re-
fusals as a nasty "job" on the jaws of a young horse,
or indeed of an old one. Each man of experience
has his own ideas about riding young horses to hounds.
Personally I always tried to do without a lead and
to get at the fences where nobody else was riding at
them. I never liked a lead, and hold that a young
horse learns more in jumping half a dozen fences on
his own than dozens of fences when following other
horses. If you follow a man in order to get the
benefit of a lead, you must keep fairly close to him
or somebody else may cut in. You are also bound to
see him safe into the next field before you set your

-32-

horse going. The result may be that you have to
hurry your young one or, if your leader dwells at
the fence, have to pull him out of his stride, both
equally bad for him.

That your leader, no matter how good he is, may
refuse or fall is another consideration, for in either
case he ceases to be of any value to you. On the
whole, then, it is far better, when possible, to get
a clear front and find your own way over fences.

If a horse is at all excitable he is apt to
jump in a wild hurried way when after another, while
if alone he will /judge the fence for himself and jump
in a much more collected style.

If the above suggestions for preliminary school-
ing cannot be carried out > a young one can often be
made into a good hunter without them. I have taken
out four-year-olds with hounds, which I had not the
chance to school beforehand, and which to my certain
knowledge had not been schooled in any way. In such
a case you should begin carefully, and feel your way
as to the fences to take on for the first few days
you are out. A pack of harriers is far the best
school for making young hunters, for as a rule the
field is not a large one, so that your young one has
a better chance to watch hounds - an enormous advan-
tage. There is no lead like a pack of hounds:
horses love to be near them when running. Then
again, if things do go wrong, they don't get away
from you as foxhounds do, for it is rare for a hare
to make much of a point.

Horses vary so much that no fixed laws can be
laid down for evolving the perfect hunter, and it
may be a comfort to anyone who has failed in school-
ing a young one at home if I give an instance of such
a failure which resulted in a very fine performer.
The case in point was a well-bred mare which a friend
of mine had bought in Ireland and asked me to ride
and "make" for him. The first thing I rode her at
was a small ditch, the worst kind of jump, I may add,
to select for such a purpose, but it happened to come
handy. She did not show much temper, but simply

-33-

would not jump, and I only got her over with the
help of men and ropes. I had no school handy
round which I could drive her, but otherwise tried
everything I knew. I can honestly say that although
I got her through a few fences, she never really
jumped one. I was at that time busy with a lot of
young horses, and as she was learning nothing I gave
up the contest and simply rode her about occasionally
and got her handy. Late in October I took her out
with hounds in a good grass country, and, I must
admit, felt far from confident. In such circumstances
one always gets a good start. I did, and felt I
must at least have a feeble try to go. I sailed
down at the first fence, not a conspicuously small
one, and to my delight she took off just right and
jumped it like a stag. That was good enough for
me, and away I went, and she never turned her head
or made a mistake. We only ran for ten minutes,
but from that morning she went steadily on and was
soon an accomplished hunter. I expect there was
some history to account for her dislike of jumping
in cold blood - most likely when schooling she had
got cast and frightened and had then defeated some
rough rider who tried to make her jump. In the
excitement of being with hounds she forgot all this.

I remarked above that a ditch is a bad fence to
begin with - the young horse sees a gleam of water
that, frightens him. He stops and nearly slips in
and then' is really terrified. I have seen more
young horses stuck up at small ditches than any other
form of fence .

Of course horses vary in the making according
to their breeding. As a rough rule, the commoner
bred ones come more quickly and easily to hand.
My own experience has lain chiefly among young Irish
horses. I have ridden them of all sorts for other
people, but for myself always went for very well-
bred ones, nearly but not quite clean bred. Such
horses soon learn their business as hunters, nearly,
but not quite, as quickly as common-bred ones.

^uite clean-bred ones, out of training, in my
experience take much longer to make, and are apt

-34-

to get upset over some trifle which throws them
hack and delays their education just when they seem
to be coming nicely to hand. They very often can
be bought cheaply enough, but, unless you have a
first-class stud groom, are best left alone. They
require more skilful stable management than half-
breds, and are more delicate as a rule and more
nervous .

Be careful, if your four-year-old proves a
bold, big jumper, not to overface him. If you ride
at fences so big that he cannot jump them or can
only get over with a fall, he will lose confidence
in you. What you want to do is to build up his
confidence so that he will face, and face with good
will, any fence you put him at. Then if he goes
on right, gets experience and gets fit, towards the
end of the season may come a glorious day when
hounds race for twenty-five or thirty minutes over
a big, fair country, and your four-year-old, full
of courage and dash, with blind confidence in you,
going just where you want and how you want, fairly
and squarely has the best of it all the way. He
knows he is leading the lot and is proud of it, and
who can blame you if you are very proud of him?

One must not be too hard on four-year-olds,
but once you have got them really fit, a light-
weight can see great sport on them, especially if
the going is not too deep. A keen lad is apt to
keep them out too long and take them out too often.
This tells on them and is apt to develop a weak
spot. If they have shown lameness, give them a
little time after they are quite sound again; it
will pay you in the end, even if you have to stay
at home when sport is good.

I once saw a very good and severe hunt well on
a four-year-old that had never before been out
hunting, save one half -day in the woods during
which he never saw a fence, but then he had condi-
tion. He was full of old oats and had been doing
a lot of dog-cart work, and fast work at that.
Many years afterwards, when reading with interest
'The History of the Meynell', I came across a re-

-35-

ference to this hunt from which the reader might
infer I had grossly overridden my mount. But he
came home quite gaily and was sold fairly well at
auction not long afterwards, so we may assume he
was sound. The reference is as follows:

"It was a first-rate run - a nine-mile point
in fifty-five minutes. There is unluckily no
record of it that goes at all into details, but
Mr. W. Fraser-Tytler was one of those who saw it
well on a four-year-old of Mr. Port's, which was
never any good afterwards".

Whether the four-year-old turned out well or
ill I never heard, hut after the first two or
three fences he went well that day and only fell
once. But most emphatically that is not the sort
of hunt you want the first time you introduce a
young horse to hounds.

Dick Fort, as he was so often called, was for
many years Master of the Meynell. His horses
always had the best of everything and his stable
management was excellent. But whether between the
shafts of his dog-cart on the road, or between his
legs as hunters, they had to 'go1, and I have
never ridden a four-year-old that was in harder
condition. A good and gallant sportsman, it was
always a joy to see him ride to hounds and a
pleasure to see him sit on a horse, for his seat
was a perfect one. He was killed in 1918 by a
fall over wire.

I have often had keen young ones who had got
quite pleasant and steady with hounds, and have
then dropped in for a really quick thing with them
when they were set going in earnest. The next
day they hunted they would be as wild as a hawk.
It is a good plan, if you want to give a very
keen one manners, not to loose him off two hunt-
ing days in succession. It requires a good deal
of self-restraint to carry it out, but if, after
a real good 'go', you take things very easily the
next day you have him with hounds, his manners will
benefit. He will recognise that hunting is not a

-36-

succession of point-to-points and won't always be
on his toes ready for a start.

I think I have said enough to shew that the
making of four-year-olds can be a very entertain-
ing amusement for a young man with good nerves who
can ride a bit. If he has to hunt 'on the cheap',
he will see more sport on one or two screws than on
one or two four-year-olds; but the latter, once
made, if the right material has been bought, be-
come valuable and high-class hunters. The screw,
on the other hand, becomes more screwy and worth-
less year by year. Most men who make hunters find
that the ones they have made to their own hands are
far more perfect conveyances than any hunter they
buy.

Another thing that a lad with limited means and
a very small stud should bear in mind is this: if
you make one or two four-year-olds well for yourself,
you will soon have people in your hunt asking you
to ride their four-year-olds or other troublesome
horses for them. This greatly helps out a small
stud, and enables you to get out hunting when a
run of bad stable luck may otherwise keep you kick-
ing your heels at home. It is a good rule never to
refuse any mount offered to you, no matter how bad
its reputation. It all gives you experience, and
very soon you should develop an instinct for the
really dangerous ones. If you find yourself on
one that simply cannot be kept on his legs, you
can play light and go gently on him for a few days
(there are certain fences over which no horse can
fall; confine yourself to them), and then return
the horse with thanks. Even such a one will have
taught you something. The horses to dread, young
or old, are the ones that cannot ' put in a short
one', who cannot get their stride right for the fence.
Such horses are always dangerous,, no matter how
slowly or carefully you ride them at fences. They
will jump half a dozen well and then get their stride
wrong, often at strong timber, and give you a heavy
fall. Fortunately this class of horse is not often
met with, but in extreme cases no amount of school-
ing or falling seems to cure them.

■37-

I could ramble on about riding four-year-olds
for many a page, but will only add in favour of
my contention that it is a fascinating amusement
that, although nearly three-score and rather the
worse for wear, I still enjoy a ride on one. And
in conclusion I would impress these things on the
novice: be very patient, very gentle, but utterly
determined that your young one shall never defeat
you; ride with long reins and never hang on to
his head; always make your intentions clear to him,
and never take him by surprise.

■ooOoo-

CHAPTER V.

One sez, "iv.oy 'oss a wunna joomp"; another sez,

"Young mon,
Will your 'oss joomp? fur if a will, Oi wish as

you'd go hon."
Sez Oi, "Oi niver 'oss'd afore, bur louk oup, fur

'ere goes,"
And Smiler med a rood roight threough and landed

on his nooze.

Derbyshire Hunting Song: P. COTTON.

It is often said that horses are not fond of
jumping. .. opinion is that, if properly trained,
ridden, and bitted, they are just as fond of it as
they are of trotting down a road or of any other
work they have to do for their living. In some
cases they are obviously very fond of it.

As a rule, refusing with sound, fresh horses
is due to the bit. But as soon as a horse gets
worn and groggy on his legs he is apt to refuse.
He hates the jar of landing over a fence, and
never jumps well until warmed up. If you don't
believe in the bit theory, stay and watch a "field"
come over some fence which everybody has to jump.
It is surprising how many of the men's horses get
a more or less severe "job" in the mout^. Ladies'
horses come off better, or did in side-saddle days,
for then, owing to their seat, they had to keep their
reins long, and so few men do that.

hen a horse receives his rider's weight in
his mouth it must be uncomfortable - one may well
say painful. Ten to sixteen stone attached to his ,
mouth with reins and a sharp bit, swaying about as
he jumps (the actual connection with the saddle being
of a slight and perfunctory nature), cannot be popular

-39-

with any horse. They must look forward to jumping
under such conditions much as we look forward to a
visit to the dentist. The dentist theory will ac-
count, too, for so many horses hating to jump in
cold blood that will jump readily when out hunting.
In their keenness and excitement they forget the pain,
just as we hardly notice a blow or cut received in
the rush and rattle of a polo match or hunt, yet
wince and complain at far less pain inflicted on us
while sitting quietly in the dentist's chair. Obvious-
ly, then the more severe the bit the greater the pain
an indifferent or bad rider can inflict, so that, un-
less we are such perfect horsemen that we can be cer-
tain of never hurting a horse's mouth unintentionally,
the mildest bit in which we can ride a horse should be
the one to select. It is fairly easy to leave a mouth
alone when you can canter down to a fence and take it
in your stride, but at a nasty cramped bottom, where
a clever horse slides half-way down the bank and then
jumps suddenly, it is another matter. In such and
like difficulties the mild bit has a great advantage.

I have seen, too, even good horsemen fail and
touch their horses' mouths when they have to jump out
of a road almost from a stand. One of the clearest
cases I ever knew of refusing from the bit was that of
a certain black pony, the cleverest and laziest of his
kind, that belonged in turn to me and various members
of my family. I could not go so far as to say he was
fond of jumping, for all forms of exercise were repug-
nant to him; but I think if one could have explained
to him that some exercise was good for his health and
left the choice to him, he would have selected jumping
exercise. One day a lady wished to ride him over a
little "made course," and although assured he would
not pull, begged for a curb bridle to be put on him.
Now, he had certainly never hardened his mouth by
"taking hold," and at one of the fences she gave him
a sharp, unintentional "job" in the mouth. He would
not jump again for her, nor did he ever again jump
properly for anybody. That seemed very good proof
to me of what the bit misapplied can do. Of course,
he could have been put right with much trouble, but
he was an old pony when it happened, and nobody greatly
cared whether he jumped or not.

-40-

An interesting remark bearing on this subject was
made to me by a sailor who had been going very straight
on a big, bold- jumping horse. On my admiring his
horse's, and incidentally his own, performance, for I
love to see a brave man, he replied: "He is a splendid
jumper, and nearly jumps me off at some fences, for he
will snatch at the reins and nearly- pulls them out of
my hands just before he takes off". Nov/, they were a
very brave pair, the rider brave but ignorant, the
horse brave and knowledgeable. The sailor, no doubt,
had dealt him certain hard blows on the jaw when being
nearlv jumped off, so the old horse took steps to es-
tablish a good length of rein before he took off, in-
stead of refusing, as a less gallant one would have
done.

I maintain, then, that the mild bit is a great pre-
ventive of refusals. For myself, I swear by snaffles,
and have practically ridden every horse I have ever owned
in them - thick, ringed snaffles, smooth if possible, and
if you must have a twist in them, and I found I often
needed it, let them still be thick and ringed.

I know there is still a prejudice against them, but
they are much more common now than they were thirty
years ago. In those days, in looking round a big field
in the Midlands, I often failed to see any snaffle but
my own, and I was constantly asked why I used them - so
constantly that I fear my replies were often more curt
than explanatory, especially if I had failed to get a
start or if things had gone wrong with me. Of course,
in Ireland they have always been the favourite bit.
Ask the men who cross Ireland best if they can do it in
severe bits.

When if comes to curing a horse of refusing, other
things besides bitting have to be thought of. Horses
have good memories, and if you buy a horse from a man
who has accepted defeat time after time, it may take
long to get these memories out of his head.

If you want to cure a horse of refusing you must
never let him off. First give him a good deal of work
in the jumping ring, and punish him when he stops and
refuses. After the ring, ride him in schooling at

-41-

fences that you can force him over, or, if the worst
comes to the worst, pull him over with ropes. When
you take him out hunting don't overface him, and be
careful never to ride him at a fence near a gate which
people are passing through. When he does refuse,
stick to it and get him over. It is far better to lose
one run and defeat him than to lose your place in many
by riding a confirmed refuser. Of course there are
certain fences over which it is impossible to force a
horse. If I entirely failed I always let the horse
know I was very angry with him and punished him. I
have found this plan answer more than once. Horses
are clever enough, and know perfectly why they are being
punished.

I remember bitterly and well a case in point during
a good hunt with the Bicester. I was riding a queer-
tempered, clean-bred mare, when at a little brook about
ten or twelve feet wide she refused and fairly defeated
me, costing me the hunt. We had not been running for
long, but in coming down to the brook we had crossed
some charming flying fences, over which she had been
jumping very big, covering, I would dare to say, at least
sixteen to twenty feet at each; that made the "stick-up"
even harder to bear and more trying to the temper. I
feared I should never be able to depend on her again,
and as I had no means of pulling her over, I had to turn
away; but before doing so I determined to administer
a terribly severe hiding. I knew that with such a mare
it was probably a case of "make or mar," "kill or cure,"
but she was not a nervous one, and I risked it. The
case went in my favour and the verdict was "made" and
"cured." The very next day I hunted her we "met," as
our Irish friends say, a much bigger brook, and although
a man refused just in front of her, my mare swung over it
in her stride, nor did she ever again give trouble at
water or any other description of fence. It was,
however, an exceptional case, and such severe punishment
should only be resorted to when ether means have entirely
failed. Refusers, of course, vary greatly in their
habits, but my experience is that the horse who refuses
far back from a fence seldom gives much trouble. The
pig who stops in the last stride, with his chest almost
against the fence, is the most difficult one to defeat.

-42-

A cutting whip is of great value with bad-tempered
refusers. Horses that will stop and kick like furies
when spurred will often give in to an application of the
cutting whip. It does not seem to upset their tempers
in the same way as the spur. It is also of use in
making sticky, short- jumping horses jump out - more
useful, possibly, with such horses than with any others.

But the cutting whip is of no use unless you know
how to pick it up and use it when picked up. The
picking up must be done like lightning, and as you pick
it up, say, with the right hand, enough of the right-
hand rein must be passed into the left hand to keep a
level bearing on the horse's mouth. If as you pick up
your whip you let one rein go slack, of course your horse
will swerve from the whip and run out.

Then, when you do hit, hit hard and close behind
the girth. It is a brutal thing to hit a horse far
back. To use a whip properly and with either hand
requires quite a little practice. " But for any lad who
is going in for riding all sorts of horses, it is well
worth learning, and all, except the actual stroke, can
be practised at any time when riding about on quiet
horses. Once learnt it is not forgotten, and may often
come in useful in hunt or point-to-point races. It
should be easy enough to get an amateur or professional
jockey to show the best way of picking up the whip.

A cutting whip properly applied is very useful
•with a queer-tempered horse that "sits up" with you on
the road. If you watch closely you can generally de-
tect signs of the coming trouble; then, before he has
quite stopped, let him have it once, but as hard as you
can deliver it. Very often a wild bound takes the
horse past the spot he had intended to select for his
battle-ground, and surprise and pain puts the whole
thing out of his head. But the blow should be given
quickly and without warning. Surprise is as great an
advantage in a horse fight as in any other kind of
battle.

Probably in nothing so much as riding refusers, do
hands come in - hands and determination, the power of

-43-

cutting your whole body and will into it.

I remember once, years ago, standing by the open
ditch at a small country meeting. Four horses came alor
and one, a chestnut mare, stuck in her toes and cut it.
Arthur Nightingale, then at the top of the tree, was
riding her, and I watched him closely. He gave her
two of the best as he took her back just far' enough to
give her a run, turned her round and drove her at it.
Both hands on the reins, the mare seemed held in a vice,
and it was easy to see that almost every rnuscle of that
•oowerful jockey Ts body was at work; one noted the grim
determination in the face, but could only wonder what
the lateral pressure per square inch on that mare's ribs
amounted to. She got over the big fence, one of the
most obviously reluctant I have ever seen forced into
the air. I walked away confirmed in my opinion that
the winning-post is not the only interesting spot on
a racecourse.

en fighting a horse, either a refuser or a "mean"
horse who has stuck up with you in the road, look out
for a moment when he wavers in his determination; such
a moment nearly always comes, and if you are 'ready for
it and exert all your muscle and will-power, you win.
Allow it to pass, and the fight will go on. The man,
who loves horses and is constantly riding all sorts de-
velops an instinct which helps him at such times. I
have watched a fight and felt inclined to yell out "To. !
when the horse appeared to me to waver. a often as
not, if the rider had not the true instinct, he would
select that moment to blow his nose or otherwise rest
from his exertions.

The greatest success I ever had with a refuser
was with a seven-year-old chestnut horse that I bought
from a friend. He had not hunted him and did not pre-
tend to know much a . but he did remark that he
would not jump in cold blocd, and had evidently been de-
feated by him. I got the horse home and took him for
a ride, with no intention of asking him to jump. I was
trotting him round a field, when we suddenly came on a
tiny ditch, no bigger than many a cart rut, running out

-44-

f rom the hedge .

We were on it before I saw it, and he stopped dead.
I sat there and thought. I did not want a fight the
first day I rode him yet I could hardly believe he would
want more than a little pressure of the knee to make
him ral over it. I applied the pressure, but any walk-
ing he did was back'" . I ;ot on to him directly
after breakfast - the place was within a quarter of a
mile of my house - and he crossed that ditch, if you could
call it a ditch, just in time to enable vie to get back to
lunch. I never knocked him about, but I kept
at him all the time. The next time I had him in th
field a very heav - nded lad was walking him about, and
on a call from me he turned him quickly round near a

de fence." The horse thought he was meant to .lump
it, and before the 1 . could stop him bounded ove . It
shbwec Lie he had learnt his lesson; he wa i ever any
trouble again and carried me well to hounds.

Another refuser, on which I had a quick success,
gave far less trouble, and with kin iJ a clear case
of refusing from fear of the bit. friend of mine
asked me to ride this young one, as it had been refusing
badl^ with his Is . He himself had not ridden it, as
it was not up to his Lght. , my friend, the owner,
always seemed to me to overbit his horses. He had fine

it hands and they went all right with hi , but I
thought it probable that his groom carried out the over-
bitting without the light hands that compensated for it.
So I asked to have the young one sent out for me in a
plain snaffle, which was done.

The first little fence I rode him at he refused six
times. Luckily for me, hounds were running very slowly
and checking in almost every field. He refused the
next few fences, but each one less often and with less
determination. The last of about half a do?,en small
fences he only refused once, and for the rest of the day
never turned his he- . When next I rode him we got
penned in a lane at the very start of a hunt, and a man
began refusing at the only available place in the fence
out of it . I was next to him and shouted out: "Come
out of the way; I know mine will 50!" - a cheerful and
optimistic view of the case which I was far from feeli ■ ■■ .
Still, it would have been no good saying: "If you will
allow me to try-, there is just a vague chance mine might
go." But go he did, and never turned his heai L .

-45-

He was sold, soon afterwards to a very hard man, and
turned out an exceptionally good hunter. He was
naturally fond of jumping, or he would not have come
right so soon, and had merely been upset by bad riding
and a severe bit.

The worst refuser of all to deal with is the nervous
refuser, far worse than the horse which refuses from
temper, which can generally be knocked out of him, or
from previous bad riding, which can be put right by good
and careful handling. It is no use knocking a nervous
one about; you must just keep your temper and keep quiet-
ly at him. Even so, when they do they are apt to
jump very badly and hurt themselves and possibly their
rider.

I remember one such that I owned, a very beautiful
thoroughbred r.iare. She was one of the biggest jumpers
I have ever ridden, and had s curious knack of bringing
her hind legs so sharply up when jumping that she some-
times struck the sole of my boot with her hoof. Yet
that mare killed herself from nervousness at quite a
small place, a small stake and bound fence with a ditch
on the take-off side. She tried hard to stop, then at
the last moment, finding she could not, she made a half-
hearted jump at it and dropped on the fence. A small,
sharp, live stake (those are the dangerous ones) went
deeply in, and in spite of all our care, in two days
it was all over. Poor care, she bore me no ill-will,
and would let no one else dress her wound.

Another very bad case of nerves was again a clean-
bred mare, but I knew the root cause of that. She was
bought out of training by a relative of mine, whose single
idea when riding to hounds was, on any sort of horse under
any sort of conditions, to try and go into every field
with them. He took her out cub-hunting when the country

s not fit to ride over, and she deposited herself up-
side down in a very big and very blind ditch. She never
got over that. If all went well from the first, she v/as
a very good hunter; but the slightest peck or mistake
upset her, and you could not rely on her, and if she fell
she was perfectly useless for the rest of the day. I
suppose awful memories of that ditch returned to her, for

-46-

siie had not turned her head before she fell into it.
I bought her, but she never really improved, and al-
though a good hunter on her day, I was very glad to
get rid of her for what would have been a small part
of ber value had she been reliable.

The^e is, I fear, no safe and certain road to the
cure of refusing, but if ridden in the way indicated,
many horses can be cured, and none should become refus-
ers while sound and fresh on their legs. Quiet, deter-
mined riding, mild bits, and care not to over-face horses
are the best receipts.

■ooOoo-

CHAPTER VI

When our blood ran rapidly and when
Our bones were pliant and limber,
Could we stand a merry cross-counter then,
A slogging fall over timber.

LINDSAY GORDON.

To what extent men can learn to fall is an oft-
disputed point. The Druid, in writing of Tilbury the
dealer, says: "To take his tilbury into a field and
turn it neatly over and step out of it, without the
horse falling, was another sleight-of-hand diversion
with the ribbons to which he was peculiarly partial."
This would go to show that falling out of a trap can be
reduced to an exact science. Still, I am bound to add
that, although I have at different times upset a good
many traps, I usually adopted the more popular method
and fell out; only once can I remember landing neatly
on my feet.

The peon in Entre Rios, when his horse fell or
pecked from any cause, would invariably open his legs, fly
over its head and land on his feet. If a peon failed to
do this, no matter what pace he was going, he was looked
upon as a duffer. Their long seat (the toe merely in the
stirrups), and the shape of their "recado" or saddle, all
helped them to bring off this trick. Moreover, they
came away the moment a horse pecked, which one does not
wish to do when hunting. When riding to hounds, then, I
don't think one can emulate Mr. Tilbury or the peon.
But by keeping a cool head and knowing just what your
horse is doing, one can often save oneself to a great
extent. If a horse fairly gets his knees under timber
or a strong stake and bound, it is no good sitting tight.
The quicker the rider realises his position and comes
away from his horse the better, and a quick wriggle when
on the ground may save him a crushing from his horse.

-48-

If a horse drops his hind legs in an ordinary ditch or
on a fence, it is generally right for a light-weight to
sit tight and stay in the saddle; but if he drops his
hind legs in a brook, bottom, or very deep ditch, be off
him in a flash or he may fall back, and his rider is
then in a dangerous position.

Falling well comes with practice, and a lad who
rides all sorts of horses and tries to go on them is
sure to get a certain amount of practice; but I fear
there are some kind of falls which no skill can soften,
and of these, falls over wire are, of course, the worst
and most dangerous. Still, a lad who keeps his head
and knows exactly what is going on when he falls has the
best chance of escaping unhurt. I have heard men dis-
pute as to whether it is a good thing to cling to the
reins when down or not. I cannot see two sides to this
question. If you roll to the end of your reins you are
quite far enough away from your horse for safety, and
the only argument I ever heard advanced in favour of
letting go is that if a man does so, he can get quite
clear and his horse cannot tread on him or kick him.
While the reasons for holding on are more numerous, there
is one conclusive and overwhelming one: if you fall and
let go in a really fast, good hunt, you are out of it,
utterly and miserably out of it, and only a certain
number of such hunts come to each of us in our hunting
lives. But if a man keeps a grip of his reins when he
falls and is quickly up, he need only lose a few lengths,
need not lose his place, much less the hunt.

I never used patent clips that release the stirrup
when you fall, and have been hung up in my stirrups many
times without being hurt, as I had the reins. Patent
clips are best if you can't be sure of keeping your
reins, but they often come open when you do not want
them to do so, and your stirrups are sadly apt to remain
in a brook after rider and horse have emerged.

Holding on to the reins when you fall has to be
learnt, as the natural instinct is to put out your open
hands to break your fall. Still, it can be learnt.
I don't know if it comes easily to some men; I know I
fell pretty often before I could make certain of holding
on every time; but if you have got it well rammed into

-49-

yoor head that you must hold on, your first thought as
you hit the ground is : "Have I got them?" That being
so, you can generally snatch the reins before your horse
has time to move, if in the shock of falling you have
let them go.

Once at a Sunday luncheon party I made some such
remark, and a youth who had never done much hunting
assured me he found that to hold on to his reins was
sheer instinct — so strong indeed was this instinct
that I gathered he could not let go even if he wanted
to. That was a Sunday. On Monday he fell close be-
side me, a gentle fall of whose coming he had ample
warning, for the horse blundered on for a length or two.
Yet for once, it appeared, the instinct was not in work-
ing order, and the horse trotted away. I could have
caught it, but fear I was brutal enough to make little
or no effort to do so, as I thought some work on foot
might revive the instinct, or at least prevent its being
so much in evidence on Sundays.

In falling, the main thing is to keep your head,
know just what your horse is doing, and be ready to take
advantage of any chance to save yourself. Don t sit
too tight when it's a decided and hopeless fall, and if
your horse has been on your leg and foot, give them a
quick shake as he rises. The fall may have pressed
stirrup and foot into the mud, and it then requires a
good shake to get the stirrup off the boot.

I saw a good instance of quickness once at Punches-
town, and although it has not an actual bearing on hunt-
ing falls, it was interesting. An enormous field had
started for a farmers' race. At the second fence, as
they poured up the course towards the stand, a horse out
with a lead fell. I had my glass on him, and the
jockey was up at once. He seemed to recognise that he
was right in the middle of the course, that the horses
were too close on him to give him any chance to get to
one side or the other. In another second he was down,
presenting his stern to the oncoming rush of horses,
and tucking his head in almost between his knees, clasped
his two hands behind it to protect the base of the skull.
All was done like lightning, and then he was lost to
sight in the tearing rush of horses. An English friend,

-50-

not quite realising the position, said to me: "That
man is knocked silly"; while on the other side came
the soft Irish drawl of a complete stranger: "I think
he's knocked damn wise." It seemed incredible that
in such a "field," so bunched together, not a horse
should have touched him; and if he had not tucked him-
self up into the smallest possible space, it would have
been impossible. As the lad walked up the course un-
hurt I felt that the Irish stranger's reflection on the
incident was fairly correct.

Falls of all sorts will have much less effect on
the man who keeps himself fit and hard. Swedish exer-
cises done every morning keep the muscles limber and
greatly lessen their effect. Of course, falls ought to
be avoided, but I have known men who took pride in having
a great number; these, however, were never good men to
hounds. I remember one keen young soldier who felt he
had not really done his best unless he had taken about
forty falls by Christmas. Needless to say, in spite of
his bravery, he seldom or never saw a hunt, and his over-
faced horses constantly refused with him. But he must
have mastered the art of falling, for I don't recollect
that he was ever hurt. However, that is not the way to
ride to hounds. If you fall often, it is well to begin
to question what is wrong with your method of riding at
fences.

Good hands and horsemanship on the rider's part,
good shoulders on the horse's, are the best insurance
against falls; and, after all, they waste time when
hounds are running and, save in exceptional circumstances,
do your horse no good.

As I said before, far the worst falls are those we
get over wire. No shoulders can save you then, and the
best and bravest go down in a nasty-looking heap through
no fault of their own. Wire that pulls out when you
get into it is the worst of all, and many a horse gets
so cut up by it that he has to be killed. Wire, when
it is marked or can be seen, is nearly always best
avoided, but if it is nailed along the top of timber,
you are pretty sure to get over it if you ride at the
post; in such a case, too, the horse most likely sees
it. Again, if it runs along a hedge, not too near the

-51-

top, by riding at a thick place in the hedge you may ex-
pect to get over; hut if a man goes in for that sort of
thing, he must know how to fall and be ready to come
away if his horse does make a mistake. You ought, too,
to be on a very good horse, the sort of horse who will
answer to you and will make an extra effort to jump
clear when you ask for it. But with all that thrown in,
jumping wire is best left to the young and hardy. As
dear old Jorrocks says: "Still, a fall's a hawful thing.
Dreadful thought! Vere's the brandy?"

One of the terrible disadvantages of wire is that
where it exists one has to go craning and looking at the
fences before you dare ride at them -- slow work, and
very bad for your horse. Also it must tend to take the
dash out of our young thrusters. If a keen lad starts
on his own line and jumps big fences, possibly taking a
fall or two, only to find himself wired time after time
and marked back to the tail of the hunt, it must damp
his ardour.

There are fortunately many blessed counties that
are still more or less clear of it, but in most hunts
much more could be done. A great step would be gained
if someone could be induced to take up the wire question
in every parish of a hunt, who would go all round getting
any existing wire taken down as far as possible, and re-
porting on the attitude towards hunting of any occupiers
who still kept it up. The M.F.H., or whoever is ap-
pointed by him, would then know exactly where the wire
was and what manner of man he had to deal with. Ladies,
when they take this work up, do it well. To get it
down and put up again costs money, and of course in-
creased subscriptions will be needed, but money that
gets wire down is well spent.

■ooOoo-

-52-

CH/ VII

Give me a man to whom naught comes

One horse or another, that country or this

Afho through falls and had starts undauntedly still

Rides up to the motto "Be with them I will .

EG" ".RBURTON.

ly of us have, I expect, at ti rondere
y there are so few really good men to hounds. The
answer is not an easy one to give, nor can it, I feel
sure, he given in a word.

■ hen hounds run fast and hard over an enclose-.,
country, and all packs do at times, in spite of hound

ows, it does not come at once to any man to ride
_is own line and stick to them. - men go hunting,
out only a few ever learn to do this well. In the
majority of cases it is not, I think, from the want of
courage or nerve; to excel, one must, of course, have
good nerves, but several other qualities are equally
essential. One of the greatest stumbling blocks is
want of quickness in forming an instant decision as
to whether a fence is jumpable or not. So many men
will jump a big place directly they have seen another
man go, but they have no confidence in their own
judgment. They feel that if leading and in front
they may take on a perfectly impossible place or turn
from one over which another man, coming up, flicks without
an effort. Is latter proceeding is somewhat humilia-
ting, and here we have one reason "why so few men settle
down resolutely to ride their own line when hounds run.

The first thing a lad who wishes to excel has to
learn (I am now talking of merely the riding part of the

-53-

game) is to ;*udge his fences accurately and instantly.
Ho will get falls while learning, but if he has good
horses, good nerves, and a quick eye for the best
place in a fence, he will soon find that when hounds
are running fast there are in most countries very
few unjumpable fences. I use the word fast advisedly.
Horses will face and clear places when hounds are running
hard and their blood is up that they will turn from in
a slow hunting run. lere is no surer way of spoiling
a gallant horse than forcing him into big fences when
hounds are hunting slowly. A good hunter soon knows
all about it, and if you drive him through some nasty
thick place and arrive in the next field with a scramble
and then have to stand still, he thinks you are a fool,
and he is quite right, too. e you ask him to

jump such a place he refuses. I really cannot write
about riding to hounds without mentioning my dearly-loved
and very perfect grey mare Bessie. She knew everything
a hunter can know. In a slow hunting run, although at
such times I never took liberties with her, she would
sometimes whip round at a hairy fence. She knew
perfectly well there was no hurry, and rather seemed
to suggest we should look for a pleasanter place or let
somebody else bore the hole; but in a quick thing she held
very different views. If we got well away she as good
as said: "All right master, trust me; we will keep our
front seat". If we failed it was never her fault, and
under those conditions she would face gallantly and freely
any fence I ever dared to ride her at.

That point of having two styles of riding, one for
the slow huntj lg runs and one for the quick things, is,
I t3 important. It is the best preventative of
refusals that I know; good horses ridden in this way
should never turn their heads when going really fast.
It is a cure, too, for the fault of showing off - coming
suddenly out of a crowd and charging a big and unnecessar:/-
fence to impress onlookers with 7rour prowess - and such-
like cont< ptible proceedings.

A lad may learn much by selecting a really good first
flight man as his pilot, but for a time only; it must

-54-

not become a habit. During that time let Impress
two things on hi . First, let him give his pilot
ample room and see him well into the next field before
he rides at a fence, for horses often fall a length
or two after landing. That obligation must never be
forgotten; it is a crime to j\.imp on a man who is taking
you by "the shortest and most direct route'' to houn' .
Secondly, let him try and watch the leading hounds for
himself, anc alw ys be on the look-out for a chance to
turn inside his pilot and then to ride his own line for
a while. If he has been folic." real artist, he

11 be struck by the fact that the best and easiest
places in the fences always seem to come opposite to
him, .'areas when he turns off on his own line, that
is far from being the case. But the artist has spotted
the best place to jump out of each field as he jumps
into it, and gradually diverges to his selected place,
so that it seems, as it were, to come opposite to him
of its own accord.

There we come on a great secret - how far to go out
of your line to get an easy place. On that point, I
think, not even the greatest of our riders to hounds
could lay down any rule. Some fences solve the difficulty
by having only one possible place, so you .■■ ': go there.
But on this point I can only say that when fences are
reasonable and hounds are running fast, it is a mistake
to go any considerable distance out of your way for an
easy place. How far to diverge must depend on the fence,
the going, your horse, and the pace the hounds are running,
and can only be learnt by practical experience. en
once you have picked your place, stick to it; to change
upsets your horse, and to those riding near him a man
who changes about is a danger and a nuisance.

I have often been struck by the almost touching
faith of the "ruck" in their leader's judgment. In
any hunt you will find little groups waiting, with more
or less impatience, their turn at one particular spot
on a fence, while close by are other places just as easy

-55-

or easier. But such groups are composed, of riders
without initiative, their guiding rule being to go
iVQ others have gone.

;ooc horse an, .ho has learned, as he ;"umps into
a field, to estimate the fence out of it and to pick
the best place in 'it, has gone a long way towards being
a first flight man.

Of course, the far side of a fence must always be
a more or less unknown quantity. If this were not so,
riding to hounds would not be half the fun it is. at
it takes a very big ditch to trap a horse ridden freely,
yet collectedly, over a flying country, and if it is a
case of banks, the extra lift a horse will put in when
he finds a trap on the landing side is astounding.

In the grass countries especially, with big fields
out, a man must learn to gallop. You must gallop in

est at the start, slip over the first two or three
fences wherever you can get at them, then, if hounds run
on, you ought to find yourself with a more or less clear
front and in a position to watch the leading hounds and
pick your jes.

One tip, which I was given before I went for my
first winter on the grass, I have found invaluable
and never forgotten. It was this: i matter how
fa: t hounds are run or how great a burry you are
in, take a strong steadier at your horse before each
fence. Pull right back into a canter twenty yards or
less from the fence, and then set him at it". Ridden
in this way, I have found that horses .lump bigger and be
and take less out of themselves.

ze of advice has proved very useful bo
to myself and others. Some years ago I met a frie
at Tattersall' s , and he asked me to come and look at a
horse he thought of buying, a horse with a reputation,
although quite a young one. It was full of quality,

-56-

but struck me as rather leggy, and I c rubbed it a good
deal. Next day he bought it for a very good figure,
which showed at least that ha attached no undue importance
to my judgment. In the winter I went to stay with him,
and as soon as I arrived he told me the new grey did not
i_o well with him, and . ■ refusing, and added that
he wanted me to ride it. I was, as usual, snort of
horses, and said I should be only too delighted. Now,
my friend's strong suit in riding to hounds was extreme
courage. He rather adopted the "loose rein and bloody
spur" methods. Although he went very -..ell en a horse
that suited him, I suspected the long-legged new purchase
got all abroad and sprawled about - felt, in fact, that
he was not collected enough to do himself justice at a
big fence, so refused. This idea proved correct, for
a few days later his owner returned to the subject and
■eked me how I would ride the horse. Now, the state of
my stud made a practical illustration most desirable, but
we had i^ad a good hunt and a good dinner, so I handed on
the tip just us it was given to me. It was adopted, the
horse refused no more, and I never had my ride.

The habit of selecting ground when hounds are running
must net be ignored, for it is an important matter,
short course cf hunting with foot beagles - a very
interesting sport - would do many people good on this point
and on several ethers. You do not, for instance, see
people on foot press in on hounds "at fault", as riders
too often do, nor do they chatter quite so much at a check,
but puff and blow in comparative silence. Neither do they
try to follow hounds when they are being cast, prepared
to press them the moment they recover the line and before
they can really settle to it. And, returning to the
question of selecting good going and easing your horse
when you can, any moderately intelligent human being,
running with beagles, will pick out the lightest, and
soundest ground he can find to run on, and will carefully
watch hounds to save, himself as much as possible. Sub-
stitute "ride" for "run", and that is what you nave to
do when riding to hounds.

-57-

It is important, too, when fox-hunting, to study
the direction of the wind. len hounds are drawing
or hunting in big woodlands, and the wind is high, if
one does not keep down wind, it is easy to lose them
completely; and when hounds are running across the
wind in the open it is well to keep down wind of them,
for tired foxes nearly always sink the wind. But
it is a mistake to think that a fox, even a tired one,
never turns up wind: I have seen men lose a hunt from
a too implicit belief in this rule, and the failing does
not seem to have been unknown to our grandfathers, for
Beckford, writing of huntsmen, says; "I have known them
lose foxes rather than condescend to try up the wind at
all".

The importance of closely watching hounds, both
for the^r sakes and your own, cannot be exaggerated.
I shall return to the subject in another chapter, from
the hound point of view; but here I will only add that
unless you learn to watch hounds closely and study their
ways, you will never ride up to them well, day in and
day out, aa s good man should.

In my opinion the good man to hounds is the persistent
performer - the man who tries each day he goes out, and
who tries equally on all his horses, who always tries to
get a start, and when he fails sees all he can of a run
from a back seat, while, without riding his horse's head
off, he is on the look-out to alter that back seat to a
front one.

ben all is said and written about riding to hounds,
the greatest secret is a grim determination, when you
are well placed alongside hounds, to stay there; and
when you get badly away, an equally grim determination
to stick to it and put matters right at the first chance
you get. The man who, when he gets a good start and
when he is riding his best horse, can flash over country
brilliantly for fifteen minutes and then dies away, is
of no account.

A very de^r old friend of mine afforded a good
illustration of what such determination can do. In
his youth all sport, except hunting, had come his way.
Of that he had none, nor, I think, more riding than falls
to the lot of an Adjutant of a Highland regiment.

-58-

<2 ' , ;e brought hj e of the strongest of

our ii '.and countries, and he took to hunti once.

a rode cheap horses am long days, a

generally see bo me stale, yet he i]
saw It well. Often I wondered ' it.
day I four 1J Hoping beside hi i, close to
hounds, up a long, steeply-sloping grass fie] . t the
top, sta ' out on the sky-line, n -1 and

ost forbidding- looking fence. There te and

no gap; H ' not see. to atter you hac Lt, it
. s nasty eve ire.

I looked at ray friend's horse and, at a rous
estimate, put hi three parts heat. ing that

ot quite realise what he was in for, I called
to hi "We shall both take it ho at the top of the
hill.'1 "Yes,!' he replied, 1: the most matter-of-fact
way, "I suppose we shall."

he plodded steadily on, drove at the fence, t(
a fairly 11, lost not a ' be in get < i ig up,
jumped on i Lorse, and proceeded in the e of

hout another wor . , that is the sort of
spirit that takes a man to hounds on all sorts of horses
and in' all sorts of countries.

I may add I was riding a very brilliant horse and
had no intention of falling erely s;v Ln e" out of
politeness. ven so, I on] just got oi ith a "peck".

piickness at the start is essential for ev an
who wants to ride his own line, and no doubt is even
moro essential for heavy than light weights. ith a
Dig field out you must gallop at once, whatever your
weight, hut when the field ir small a light -weir'
a fast horse can afford a little time. But he must

ounds closel:/", a nd. be reaay to take a front seat
if they really settle to run.

The quickest hen - " t at a start I ever saw \
ole friend Tom Atkinson, of G-lenwilliar , to whose
help and judgment I owe many a good Irish hunter. To

-59-

see him thunder down from a Limerick hillside gorse
on one of his enormous horses and rocket over the wall
or bank at the bottom was a sight not easily forgotten.
I at least could never catch him until the weight began
to tell and the big horse to tire; but, tired or not,
it had to go on galloping and jumping. I don't think
I ever lured him on to the scales, but am certain he
was giving me, at a low estimate, not less than eight
stone. He had mastered the truth that horses can give
away weight, but not distance, and was, I believe,
admitted to be one of the best heavy-weights in Ireland.

With a nice free nunter that has come perfectly to
hand, it is quite easy, and may at times be useful, to
jump fences on the slant; not to ride at them straight,
but to take them at an angle. At quite small fences, if
you are in a great hurry, you can save ground by doing
this, but you must take care there is nobody near you
or you may get knocked over. I have more than once
found it very useful in the old-fashioned type of point-
to-point races, when there was only one flag and you had
to get to it by the shortest route you could find.

In these days of tarred and slippery roads it is
again of value to be able to jump into them on the slant.
If there is a narrow grass siding and you land on it,
pointing in the direction you want to go, you can complete
the turn on the grass before coming on to the slippery
surface. But if you go straight in, your horse is on the
tar at once, tries to turn on it, and a fall is almost
inevitable, and such roads are nasty hard falling. I
have only tried this plan over small fences, when jumping
either from field to field or into roads, but I have read
that Asheton Smith, the mighty hunter, adopted it when
riding at very high, strong timber, on the grounds that,
so ridden, his horses gave him less dangerous falls.

If you want to go straight in and out of a lane or
road, select a weak place or hole to go out at, and
chance the fence in. Any horse will jump into a road,
but it requires a very resolute one to jump out if the
fence is black and strong. . I have found this tip very
useful in point-to-point racing, and have seen many refu-
sals in that class of racing owing to the neglect of it.

-60-

I always think a great deal of nonsense is talked
(I speak, of course, as a light -weight ) about ' Lng
*ses at drops. If you cone to a f- ' Lg flying

fence with a drop on the landing side, then of course
there is a jar, and you cannot collect your horse too
carefully or lie too far hack in your le as you
land. Remember it is very little use lying back in
your saddle if you stick your feet out in front of
you: as you lie back they must be bac too, or
all the jar comes into your stirrups. If at such a
fence, as. your horse almost ;ers from the shock
of lam 5 , you j< ell on to his neck or he

to your thrust-forward stirrups, you are of con-
siderab] istance in toppling " over, or at the
best adding to the .jar a: risl of injury.

Lut in jumping a clover horse down into a deep
lane or such-like place, there is very little risk of
hurtin ; hi or of a fall. 4- such places the fence is
often weak and you c ill your horse into it and and
then drop hi I have had some horses that seemed

to have the knack of landing as lightly as a bird, and
they were always ready to jump down any reasonab
height, clear proof that it did hot .jar them. Vith a
horse that gets nervous and makes a Lid, hurriei ju ,
it is altogether another matter. It is, I thinl , at
such places that the man who "makes" his own horses an
rides them too, in mild bits, has an ;e.

fore leaving the subject of ri iing to hounds,
one word on "bucking," or "s " ;," as it is now
called. Believe me, it is best n lone. It is
so fatally eas:^ to talk about your horse and his
wonderful powers, and incidentally to it a

derful rider he has, but con't do it. I really
think men in the hunting field are more correctly
reckoned up tl. here else. If you go well you
11 get the credit L1 out a ' 'or it.

len I have noted who have been underestimated are
the very one- who are always explainir
go. I don't deny for a re are so

ood o "swank", but I am sure all their
real friends wish they wouldn't.

I remember once eomin J^ Londc ith a
'rlage full of lunti , and. one n
rays full of his own prowes s irning to tell
us about he had been in, ■■'•est of us having
been out with ;k. Just get tj

fairly under . hen a quiet voice fro corner
inter d: ] tirae for iJ~ all;

on fro "umped the locked gate an

then ontirel;- to yourself." ore of

t run .

•00O00-

-32-

CHAPTBR VIII

But the player may strain every finger in vain,
And the fiddler may rosin his how,
i.or flourish nor string such a rapture shall bring
As the music of sweet Tally-no '.

YTB - ^LVILLE.

If I began to write on the advantages of fox-
hunting over all other sports, I should fill pages
and possibly become extremely tedious; so, remembering
Sam Y.'eller's remark with reference to the differing of
tastes accounting for the existence of fancy waistcoats,
I will refrain.

But one thing I will say, and that is that fox-
hunting "stays" with those who really love it in an
extraordinary way. Some of the keenest men I nave
known have ranged from seventy-five to eignty-five,
and I could even name men at, or over, the former age
who would take on strong timber with the best of the
rising generation.

It stays with us, too, in another way - it stays
in our memories. For myself, I know I remember the
really brilliant hunts I have seen far better than I
remember anything else, far better than chase or race,
even if lucky enough to get home first. I am sure I
am not peculiar in this, for I have often met men with
whom I have ridden a good hunt, years afterwards, and
found they recollected every detail just as vividly as
I did.

Some of the best and keenest men I have known, men
who "stay", and are a stay to their own hunts, are not
men who ever care for crashing along in front and cutting
out the work. That is grand fun for these whose tastes
lie that way, but there is many a real good sportsman
who does not care for it. I have noticed, too, that the
men who do most for their hunts are not always those who
are most conspicuous when hounds run hard. So that,
while admiring and giving due credit to the gallant souls
who are always ready to go in front and cut out the work,
let no one sneer at good sportsmen who nave no such am-
bitions.

-63-

I have hunted with fox-hounds in many countries,
good, had, and indifferent, but however small or easy
they were to cross, I have never been in one of which
some local enthusiast did not remark to me: "if a
horse can cross this country, he can cross any country".
I never presumed to difTer, for I like the local en-
thusiast, and have much -.ore respect for him than for
the man who only shoots in his own country and dashes
off to the shires to hunt, doing little or nothing
for his local pack, in some extreme cases failing even
to keep a fox in his home covers. Such a man is
beneath contempt, and I should enjoy seeing the local
enthusiast jump on him.

In the above remark, however, if you substitute
"man" for "horse", you will not be far from the truth.
The man who thinks for himself and finds his own way
over country when hounds run will go just as well in
one country as another. Take a good man from the
provinces, put him down in the shires, with the right
stamp of horse, and he will take his usual plac . . It
may take him a day or two to get used to slipping the
crov;d - the crowd who have no wish to go, and who get
in the way - but after that, on a fast "big- jumped"
horse, as they say in Ireland, he will find it .ost
probably rather easier to ride his own line than at
home. For the shires are made to be ridden over, so
to speak, and on the right type of horse it is easier
to get to hounds in those favoured localities than in
many provincial countries.

It would seem very probable in the future that
men will more often have to selecb one sport and stick
to it. The class of man who hunted, raced, shot and
fished, who was able to 5:0 in for all sports, will
hardly be so numerous as in the past.

If a man finds he can only afford one sport, and
selects hunting (to me it seems incredible that anyone
should not, but that, I know, is being narrow-minded),
he can get far more joy and pleasure out of it by really
1 trying to understand the noble science. During these
(Jl glorious autumn mornings in the big woods with the cubs
he can learn so much about fox-hunting. There are
usually only a few out, and one c:.;n often be of use to
the officials of the hunt, end it is a good chance to
study the hounds in their work and learn to know some of
the . Knowing at least a few of the best hounds and
watching them in their work always adds to one's pleasure

-64-

These joys the men who were busy with other- sports
until well on into November never realised. There is
no shadow of doubt about this fact - the more a man
learns about fox-hunting, the more he will enjoy it.

And how much, too, a really keen man can do to
help the sport in his own neighbourhood by setting a
good example in the hunting field. kindly word of
thanks for any little service rendered, an occasional
half-crown to back it, a prompt apology and payment for
any concrete bit of damage done by the individual, such
as a smashed gate or stile, puts the matter right.

A little care to get round stock, so as to prevent
them getting out of a field; or, if they have slipped
out, a little time spent in getting them back or penning
them in elsewhere. Consider the trouble we give when,
by leaving a gate open, we let a couple of horses oat of
a field into a high-road. They may go almost any dis-
tance, and it may mean two days' work or more for a man
before they are found and got home. Then, too, when
riding about the country, both when hounds are not run-
ning and when they are, I would urge on everyone always
to consider how they can avoid doing damage. One could
fill pages with instances of want of thought which must
be very annoying to the farmer. There is a certain
class of rider who is always in a desperate hurry when
it involves cutting across the corner of a wheatfield
or something of that sort, yet whose hurry dies away
when he comes to a fence, where he will patiently await
his turn to walk through a gap; such men always seem
to me very contemptible.

Then, too, beware of excitability and swearing at
large. Some men seem to think that because they are
out hunting they may swear at anyone. It is certainly
very annoying when a man won't open a gate or let you
through his yard, but much more can be done by going
and having a quiet talk with him than by swearing when
both you and he have your tempers up.

I could quote several cases to prove the harm that
excited abuse has done to hunting; one especially remains
in my memory. A small landholder was rather slow in
going to open a gate, and the gate proved diffic\ilt to
open. An excited member of the field, irritated by the
delay, abused the man. Now, the small-holder was un-
fortunately both bad-tempered and well off. He

-65-

promptly put a wire fence all round his property, kept
his gates locked, and warned hounds off.

The sad thing about it was that the man who did
all the harm was a keen, good sportsman, with charming
manners except when he got excited out hunting. For
years, though, the matter could not be put ri I . I
have known even more trivial things put men against
hunting, and very often they nurse their grievance and
won't tell anyone what it is.

All cannot subscribe largely, but all who are keen
can help the hunt in many little ways. As I have
already said, it seems certain, too, that expenses will
go up and subscriptions will have to oe increased.
After all, our subscriptions have in the past been a
very small part of our expenses. This proportion will
have to be altered. young man too often lavishes
money on his horses, on his clothes, and in Londo
during a frost, and gives a very inadequate subscription
to hounds.

As for horses, we cannot go without them, but we
may have to do with a smaller and cheaper stud and
produce a bigger subscription. The man with a small
stud, who rides his horses about in the summer and
takes them cub-hunting, has an advantage over the man
with the big stud, who hurries down after the season
has begun, and hardly nows one of bis horses from
another. He at least misses the great pleasure of
getting his horses perfectly to hand, so that they do
exactly what he wants in the way he wants.

//hyte Melville, in his very fascinating "Riding
Recollections," gives the following vivid description
bearing on this point. (I would go bail that the
reverend gentleman in question had onl;^ a small stud,
and did not leave the exercising of them entirely to
grooms ) .

"I remember," he writes, "seeing the Rev. John
er, an extraordinarily fine rider of the last
generation, hand his horse over an ugly iron-bound stile
on to some stepping-stones, with a drop of six or seven
feet, into a Leicestershire lane, as calmly as if the
animal had ceen a lad- tie was taking out for a walk.

"He pulled it jack into a trot, sitting very
close and quiet, with his hand raised two or three
inches above the withers, and I can still

w

-66-

recall, as if I had seen it yesterday, the curve of
neck and quarters, as, gently mouthing the bit, that
well-broken hunter poised lightly for its spring, and,
landing in the sane collected form, picked its way
daintily, step by step down the declivity, like a cat.'1

Such perfection of understanding between horse
and rider can only, I think, be arrived at by the man
who has a small stud of which he is complete master -
that he has, in fact, made to his hand. I would
argue that to have such a perfect animal is a great
joy and, if achieved, should more than compensate for
the necessity of a bigger subscription and a smaller
stud.

It is very easy to have too large a stud, which
means a number of horses alwa-^s short of work and
above themselves in condition. Horses in that state
are never at their best or pleasant to ride. In
fact, the only advantage I can see in a big stud, apart
from the pleasure of mounting friends, is that in spite
of any run of bad stable luck, you can always go hunt-
ing. A man with only four or five horses, if sport has
been good and he has been really shoving them along,
may easily find himself with nothing to ride for a time.

Still, a small stud saves much money, and the
owner will be better carried. I have often thought
second horses might urell be abolished. Second horse-
men do much harm, add to the expense, and when one good
stout hunter is tired, his rider has had a good day's
sport. Then, too, if none of us had second horses,
after a good hunt in the morning we should all ride
with less liberality and dash in the afternoon, use
our heads more and nurse our horses, but we should see
the sport nevertheless. Also we should find out which
are the really stout, staying hunters, their blood
would be sought after, and our breed of stayrers, not
too plentiful, improved.

When second horses are used, no Mian should be
allowed to ride as second horseman until he has received
careful instruction as to shutting all gates, avoiding
damage to crops, together with a few hints as to his
general behaviour in the hunting field.

To show how little some men know of their large
studs, I can quote a case of a good out very wealthy
sportsman who, after a quick thing in which he had
gone well, remarked to a friend: iat a nailer this

-67-

mare is! She is the only one I ever have a real go on
now." His friend replied that no doubt the animal was
a "nailer," but it did not happen to be a mare. It
turned out that not only had he mistaken his favourite
mare, when changing horses, for a gelding, but for a
gelding in which he had no confidence whatever! The
man of the small stud, who has to make his own hunters,
is at least saved from that kind of mistake.

It is a great point to dress properly for hunting.
.-. red coat is a passport in all the countryside., and
villagers like to see a smart turn-out. But again
subscriptions must come before clothes. n old song
runs in my head -

If my life should depend on the wager,
I know not which brother I'd bac .
The Parson, the Squire, or the Major,
The Red, or the Pink, or the Black.

We may be perfectly certain the major, who no doubt
was in a smart cavalry regiment, spent more on his hunt-
ing kit than the parson brother, but it does not appear
to have given him any advantage when hounds ran.

So that if the proposition is accepted that hunting
can only be carried on in these days if subscriptions
come first, it can be shown that we shall not lose much
individually by that. on one considers, too, what
one can get for a hunt subscription, who can deny that
if they have to be very greatly increased we shall still,
if we have any real love of hunting, get our money's
worth in full?

Consider, for one thing, how long the sport lasts.
If you don't mind early rising, you can begin v/ith cub-
hunting in September, even earlier with some packs.

Then comes the regular season in November, and,
bar a frost, you can keep steadily at it to at least
the end of larch. And even a short frost is sometimes
welcome to the owner of a hard-worked little stud.

Hunting, too, is the most democratic of all sports,
and brings together good fellows of all classes. The
penniless younger son may take a better place on his

-68-

cheap hunter, when hounds run, than the lord-lieutenant
on a five-hundred guinea one. The smallest farmer
can ride clean away from the biggest landlord, provided
he is the better man.

Money tells in providing good hunters, but it
also provides French cooks and too many luxuries, and
that soon takes away the nerve to make use of them.
To really enjoy hunting, we must keep ourselves fit
and hard.

There is no sport like it on this old earth of
ours, and I often think of the remark made to me by
an enthusiast I met in Rio Janeiro, of all strange
places: "I have been over a great deal of the world,"
said he, "in search of sport, but when all is said
and done, give me the little stinking fox."

■ooOoo-

-e>y-

•-PTER IX.

He guides them in covert, he leads them in chase;
Though the young and the jealous try hard for his place,
•Tis Bachelor always is first in the race.
He beats them for nose and he beats them for pace.

" ELVILI .

It has been suggested and would be, I think, a
very excellent plan if everyone were obliged, before
going fox-hunting, to pass a little examination and
answer a few simple questions on the noble sport.

One thing that I would try to impress on every
lad who takes seriously to hunting is this: from the
time hounds move off from the meet until they go home,
keep your "whole attention concentrated on the- . If
a lad begins in this way from the first, it will soon
become a habit, and, almost without knowing it, he will
find himself always on the alert and watchful. So
much, too, can be done by every individual member of
the field, if his attention is really fixed on the
sport, to make the work of the hunt servants less try-
ing. Both the huntsman and his hounds and the whippers-
in have constantly to pass through the "field." If
you are on the look-out and make way for them, it makes
their work much easier, and the example one man sets in
making way is quickly followed by others.

It is always worth while trying to help the hunt
servants in any way, and they appreciate it. They
are good fellows, and many a kindly hint have they
given me from time to time, and they alone, of all men,
are worth attending to if they drop a word in the
morning as to what sort of scent to expect. Fro:
coming on with hounds and knowing them so well, they
can sometimes form a fairly sound opinion on that
mysterious essence.

As well as always being ready to make way in lane
or roadway, be careful, unless you have the utmost

-70-

confidence in your horse, to turn him so that he can-
not kick at hounds when the pack is passing yon . A
kick that kills a good hound is very quickly and easily
given, and then you have done a terrible thing. I
remember once riding home after a good hunt with Tom
Bishop, who was then hunting the Grafton. He talked
for long of one particular dog-hound - let us call him
Bachelor - who that day had done some very fine work
down a road. It was easy to see what absolute con-
fidence he had in the hound, and pride he took
in his stoutness and nose. The very next day the bitch
pack was out - for Bachelor ran with the bitches - the
poor hound was kicked by a newcomer's horse and killed
dead. Our long talk as we rode hone made me realise
the tragedy of it.

It is an absolute obligation on anyone riding young
horses to take the greatest care that his youngster is
given no chance to kick hounds. In a wood one has to
be extra careful : as hoimds come bounding out on to
the rides they are apt to frighten a horse, and a fright-
ened horse kicks. It is generally easy to tell, from
the direction a huntsman is drawing, what rides the
hounds will break into, and then to take precautions.
If you keep "at" a horse's mouth he will seldo: kick,
but if he makes the attempt punish him severely. It
is not difficult, as a rule, to cure horses of kicking;
but better still, never let them begin. Have dogs
about in the stable and take them : I you when you

■e hacking, and send them to exercise with the horses.
Best of all, walk a couple of foxhound puppies: young
horses soon get accustomed to hounds then.

I often think that if people who hunt would always
try to be on the look-out to help things on, instead of
being so ready to criticise, it would be an exceedingly
good change. One gets so weary of criticism that is
ignorant, and I have noticed that those who know most
ss.j least. There are probably not more than three or
four huntsmen with real genius hunting hounds in Great
Britain at any given time. Yet certain folk are not
content with a good hardworking huntsman, who shows
them good sport when there is good scent and he has a
fair chance : they grumble away, and seem to think that
every pack they choose to hunt with is entitled to a
first-class heaven-sent genius. How often, in my

-71-

long hunting life, have I listened to this sort of thing:
'New, what on earth is our idiot of a huntsman doing?

Anyone could tell his fox - By Jove, they've hit it!

Gome on ! "

Of course, if they don't hit it, the lecture on
hunting goes on, and if by any chance the critic's idea
happens to be right (and he can't be wrong every time),
he is so pleased with himself as to be a positive
nuisance for the rest of the day. hen they do hit it,
as likely as not he dashes off and, unless checked,
presses hounds before they have again reall?r settled
on the line.

At a check you usually see people coming up,
determined not to pull up until they are .lust a little
bit in front of where the leaders have stopped; this
is most unsporting. Say that three or four men, who
have really been with hounds, pull up, they are not
in the least likely to have given hounds too much room,
so why cannot their followers accept the situation and
stay a little behind them? That was the position
when hounds were running, and there is nothing very
clever or daring in taking the lead at a check.

Let your rule be to pull up in good time when
leading, to pull up hehind the leaders when you are
not, and in either case to keep your mouth shut. A
lot of people talking does not help hounds or huntsman.

Ladies are great offenders, not entirely from
their own fault. If they are properly "entered" -
that is to say, if they have a relative or friend who
knows all about the sport of fox-hunting, and studies
how to avoid doing damage to crops, and who will pass
on his knowledge to them, then all is well. I have
noticed that women so educated are quite as thoughtful
for hounds, hunt servants, and farmers' interests as
any man, if not more so.

But such women are rather the exception. If an
ignorant lad comes out, he will soon get well sworn at
if he does stupid things; but most men are very loath
to find fault with women in the hunting field. There-
fore the woman who is not well "entered" has much less
chance of learning how to behave from being cursed at
large than a man has.

-72-

So it is up to the ladies, I think, to make a
point of learning something about hunting, if they
mean to hunt, and they can then do much for the sport
by their influence and by setting a good example.
They might also remember that their dear favourite
horses hurt people just as much when they kick them
as if they were ordinary hunters! Ladies will not,
as a rule, punish their horses for kicking; they are
too gentle with them.

The position of M.P.H. is not all fun; try to
make it as easy as possible. He is sure to have to
swear at you sometimes. Nobody goes hunting who does
not do some stupid things, and you may get sworn at,
too, when you are not to blame; but in any case take
it all in good part and bear no ill-will. I must add
the most perfectly controlled fields I have ever known
have been worked on the quiet system, without any
yelling or swearing.

I think any old Grafton man will bear me out when
I say that no man ever controlled a field better than
the present Lord Penrhyn. He not only never swore,
but very seldom spoke. Ee was always in the right
place when wanted, and had only to hold up his hand.

A master with a jealous temperament is the hardest
of all to bear with; jealousy is not wanted in the
hunting field. The jealous hound who, when leading,
will go on when he knows he is off the line, trying to
carry the pack with him, is best hung. The jealous
rider who is always read y to spoil sport, provided he
can establish the fact that he really is in front of
everybody else, can't be hung, but a good many people
often wish he could.

All lads, of course, should know the unwritten law
that 7^ou must not gallop in the wake of hounds; it
makes them wild. An equally well-known but often
ignored law is that which prevents your going on if
any man has got down to pull open a gate, or anything
of that sort, until he is in the saddle again. It is
not sufficient to shoot past, saying as you do so, "Can
you get up all right?" taking great care at the same
time not hear his answer. No, yoii ought really to wait

Englishmen are, as a rule, very slow at getting

-73-

into the saddle, partly, of course, owing to the kit
they ride in. But any lithe, active lad Can learn
to vault into the saddle if he takes a little trouble
over it, and it is well worth learning. It will save
time in a hunt, and may make the difference between
winning and losing a point-to-point.

But what I would most of all try to impress on
the youngster is this: if you want really to enjoy
hunting, to ride straight and well to hounds when
you are young, and follow the sport from a less ambitious
position when you grow old - learn really to love and
understand it - read books tnat will explain the art of
hunting, listen to and question men who really know,
and, above all, watch hounds and keep your attention
en the sport while you are out.

Never be in a hurry to holloa if a fox breads
cover near you. Let him get well away before you
holloa, or you may turn him back into tne cover. Ho
rule is more often broken.

When hounds have run a fox into a cover or wood,
and you view a fox away, then indeed you ,.iust be care-
ful. Remember what Beckford says: "Changing from a
hunted fox to a fresh one is one of the worst accidents
that can happen to a pack of foxiiounds."

If you are not certain that the fox you have viewed
is the hunted one, don't holloa, but go at once to the
master or huntsman, tell him you have viewed a fox
away, and give your opinion for what it is worth. If
you describe the fox accurately it will be a great
help, and he is almost certain at some period of the
hunt to have been already viewed either by tne master
or the servants.

Let me close with one more quotation from Beckford,
which we may all take to heart: "Whoever has followed
hounds has seen them frequently hurried beyond the scent.'

So, leaving that warning to sink in, farewell and
good hunting'.

THE E1ID.

c<

1

^ebsterFam/lyLtorafyofVeterin^ow.
Cur: Medicine

■ ' cf;c/ne at

North Grafton, MA 01536

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