Presented to
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of the
University of Coronto
by

bequest of

REV. H.C. SCADDING, D.D.

THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

By SIR FRANCIS B. HEAD, Barr.

WORKS BY SIR FRANCIS HEAD.

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America, free and untrammelled as himself.”—Frazer’s Magazine, Jam, 1861.

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Frazer's Magazine, Jan. 1861.

JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.

LONDON: PRINTED BY W. CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET,
AND CHARING CROSS,

THE HOUNDS ARE LATE TO-DAY!

He grew unto his seat ;
And to such wond’rous doing brought his horse,

As he had been incorps’d and demy-natur’d
With the brave beast.

Hamlet, Act iv. Scene
SECOND EDITION.

LOW DIOW
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE

1861.

The right of Translation is reserved.

STREET.

PREFACE,

THE writer of this little volume deems it only fair to
forewarn his readers that he is not, and never has been,
an inhabitant of that variegated region in creation com-
monly called “ the sporting world.”

He has never bred, raced, steeple-chased, nor betted
sixpence on any colt, filly, horse, or mare. He has never
seen, nor been seen by, the Jockey-Club. He has never
been on the turf. He does not belong to “ the ring.”

Nevertheless, sometimes in the performance of public
duties,—sometimes from private inclination,—sometimes
for the benefit of his health,—sometimes for recreation,
—sometimes for rumination,—sometimes to risk his life,
—and more than once to save it, he has, throughout a
long and chequered career, had to do an amount of rough-
riding, a little larger than has fallen to the lot of many
men,

His observations and reflections on horses and horsemen
he now ventures to submit to that portion only of the
community who, like himself, preferring a long tether
to a short one, take exercise on four legs, instead of
on two,

CONTENTS.

“ORE ET 334) OAR
RETIRE re oe | St SY By Co a
PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS—THE Horse ..

Mr. Rarey’s MODE oF suspurina Horsres—comPARED
WITH THAT PRACTISED IN SoutH AMERICA db S.

DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE CHARACTER AND CONDUCT OF
A WILD HORSE AND A TAME ONE... ee ee ee

HorsEMANSHIP—A JUST SEAT—A LIGHT HAND—THEIR
ADVANTAGES IN RIDING, IN LEAPING, IN GALLOPING
OVER ROUGH GROUND, IN GOING FAST DOWN HILL, IN

/ FALLING es se x0 se aS Ae sim sie 52

A JUMP INTO A STONE-QUARRY—THE MAMELUKE’S LEAP
OUT OF THE CrTaADEL oF Carro—LETTER FROM GEN.
Moors, AND STORY OF HIS FALL ON HORSEBACK OVER
APRECIPION-OF 237 FEET .. .. 9 .. 0 +s os

Mopbe oF rmrne At TIMBER aE © hos Aa

Water Jumping —Scene at a NortTHAMPTONSHIRE
BROOK . Re ee

DirFeRENT WAYs OF Swimminc A HorsE .. ....
DEEPENING Soc cm ee
Wee Anp Anuse or SPURS .. .. 9 .. «2 oe oe
How To TREAT A HUNTERINTHE FIELD... .._ ....

How To pking A Hunter Home .. .. .. .. we

44
51

54
62
63
65
74
80

6 CONTENTS.

How to Dress ror Huntina rere Sw. Slee See
How to Eat anp Drink ror HuntiIne Pe se

DIFFERENCE BETWEEN LEICESTERSHIRE AND SURREY
ELUONTING#L ce ck) as ee ee, ee

ARRAS TAB TM ane OSs) ‘laa hehe ace oc

SMOMMSHOMING oy, ‘se! Sick. spel © Uae ea eee
ONPRGUGHING FIORSES -, ° Ziulse: Gi. Gee) cones
SADDLES Bes) de, o's | MERE) ek, eee ene
BripieEs Te Sit eM ch Se

Inrrinsio VALUE OF A Horse .. .. «2 ce oo
GUNWSEVENG ss) ) 20. ae) duck ee eel ee
GN SINGEING 3.30 as: oe) Sau" (tee, Sees? hee © Cee

Meer or tHe Pyrcutey Hounps at ARTHINGWORTH TO
DRAW WATERLOO GORSE .. .. .- «s cc ve

EFFECTS CREATED BY THE S1GHT OF Hounps on Horsss,
Men, Women, Curipren, SHeep, Lamps ..

Cruetty or Hunting ConstIpERED LS. ee eee
Tuer Lamp AND THE Fox Wecn ie e cc

BENEFICIAL RESULTS, SOCIAL AND PECUNIARY, OF
HuntTING .. .. as a dats

SKETCH OF THE Lire AND DratH or T'Homas ASSHETON
SMITH a, eee a ee tare ro

On MinirAry HORsE-POWwmuR.. 2500) 90) an cre
On Hoppiine AnD AncHORING CAVALRY Horszs a

On CuLorororminea Horses vgs *:. 56. en eee

PaGE

167

173
195
206
215

Sate

MODE, IN NORTHERN PARTS OF SOUTH AMERICA, OF RIDING
OVER THE ANDES, ON A RED INDIAN.

QUERY, which is - THE SAVAGE?”

THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

Tue Horse. -

In almost every region of the globe, not only on its sur-
face, but at different depths beneath it, the history of the
horse is recorded.

** Fossil remains,” says Colonel Hamilton Smith in the twelfth
volume of the Naturalist’s Library, ‘“‘ of the horse have been found
in nearly every part of the world. His teeth lie in the Polar ice
along with the bones of the Siberian mammoth; in the Himalaya
mountains with lost, and but recently obtained, genera; in the
caverns of Ireland ; and, in one instance, from Barbary, completely
fossilized, His bones, accompanied by those of the elephant,
rhinoceros, tiger, and hyzna, rest by thousands in the caves in

Constadt ; in Sevion at Argenteuil with those of the mastodon ; in
Val d’Arno and on the borders of the Rhine with colossal urus.”

But what is most deserving of attention is that while all
the other genera and species, found under the same con-
ditions, have either ceased to exist, or have removed to
higher temperatures, the horse alone has remained to the
present time in the same regions, without, it would
appear, any protracted interruption; fragments of his

skeleton continuing to be traced upwards, in successive

8 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

formations, to the present surface of the earth—the land
we live in.

In like manner in history, sacred, profane, and modern,
the horse is to be found omnipresent, sharing in the con-
quests, in the defeats, in the prosperity, in the adver-
sity, in the joys, in the sorrows, in the occupations, and
in the amusements of man.

In Genesis xvii. 17, Moses records that the Egyptians
(1729 years before Christ), at a time when the famine
was sore in the land of Canaan, gave to Joseph their
horses in exchange for bread.

Two hundred and thirty-eight years afterwards (1491
B.c.), six hundred chosen chariots for nobles and generals,
all the war chariots of Egypt armed with iron to break ,
the enemy’s battalions, the horsemen, and all the host of
Pharaoh, in their pursuit of the children of Israel, were
overthrown in the midst of the Red Sea, so that there
remained not so much as one of them—(Exodus, chap.
XIV.)

“Then sang Moses and the children of Israel this song unto the
Lord, and spake, saying, I will sing unto the Lord, for he has
triumphed gloriously: the horse and his rider hath he thrown into
the sea.”—Exodus, chap. xv.

The Canaanites whom Joshua engaged at the waters
of Merom had cavalry, and a multitude of chariots drawn
by horses. Sisera, general of Jabin, King of Hazor, had

900 chariots of iron. Judah could not get possession of

THE HORSE. 9

the lands because the ancient inhabitants of the country
were strong in chariots of iron. The Philistines, in their
war against Saul, had 30,000 chariots and 6000 horsemen.
David having taken 1000 chariots of war from Hadadezer,
King of Syria, hamstrung the horses, and burned 900
chariots. During the latter periods of the Jewish mo-
narchy Palestine abounded in horses.

In 1 Kings, chap. iv., it is stated that, Solomon had
40,000 stalls of horses for his chariots, and 12,000 horse-
men.

Cyutacus, a King of Ethiopia, entered Egypt at the
head of 100,000 cavalry ; and from that period to Balak-
lava, and from it to the last battle in modern history,
horses in greater or less numbers have shared in the
dangers of war.

In many instances the history of an individual horse
forms part and parcel of the history of his rider: accord-
ingly we learn that Bucephalus (so called because his head
resembled that of a bull, Bou xefaros), when thirty
years old, saved the life of Alexander the Great, who,
in remembrance, built a city which he called after his
name.

We are, moreover, taught in our schools, that the Em-
peror C. Caligula, as an especial honour to his favourite
horse, not only created him a high-priest and consul, but

caused him to live in marble apartments, in which he

10 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

stalked about adorned with the most valuable trappings
and pearls the Roman empire could supply.

In statuary, ancient as well as modern, the horse lives
with his rider.

On the frieze of the Temple of Minerva, in the
Acropolis of Athens, at Nineveh, and numerous other
localities, are to be seen sculptured or painted, more or
less beautifully, ancient figures of men on horseback,

In all the great cities of Europe the horse and his rider,
or rather the rider and his horse, are ornaments deemed
worthy to occupy conspicuous positions in the most
important thoroughfares. Accordingly in London, within
a few hundred yards of each other, are to be seen eques-
trian statues of Kings Charles I., William III., George
III.; and George IV.

Mounted on one-charger, the Duke of Wellington in
his cocked hat and feathers, military cloak, sword, pistols
and spurs, in all weathers, rides triumphantly on the
summit of an arch at the western end of London, while,
at the same moment, in pantaloons and shoes, without
hat, stirrups, or spurs, mounted on another charger, he
appears, as a sentinel, in front of the Bank of England,
the commercial heart of the empire.

Among the great potentates of the earth, the coin
that is most currently used, in proffers to each other of

amity and friendship, is a horse. And accordingly, the

THE HORSE. 11

Beys of Tunis, of Algiers, and Egypt; every sovereign
in Europe, including the Czar of Russia, and the Sultan
of the Turks; the Emperor of Morocco, the Kings of
Persia and Abyssinia, and other rulers of smaller name,
have transmitted to the Queen of Great Britain, with
due compliments, specimens of their finest horses.

In the Life of Bruce, the Abyssinian traveller, it is
recorded that Fasil, after having assembled the leaders
of the Galla tribes, said to the noble Briton, ‘‘ Now, before
all these men, ask me any thing you have at heart, and
be it what it may, they know I cannot deny it to you!”
Bruce, of course, asked to be conducted immediately
to the head of the Nile. Fasil then turned to his
seven chiefs, who got up. They all stood round in a
circle and raised the palms of their hands, while he
and the Galla with great apparent devotion repeated
together a prayer, about a minute long. “Now,” says
Fasil, “go in peace: you are a Galla. This is a curse
upon them and their children, their corn, grass, and
cattle, if ever they lift their hand against you or yours,
or do not defend you to the utmost, if attacked by
others.” Upon this, Bruce offered to kiss his hand,
and they all went to the door of the tent, where there
stood a very handsome grey horse. “Take this horse,”
said Fasil, “as a present from me. But do not mount
it yourself. Drive it before you, saddled and bridled

12 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

as it is. No man of Maitsha will touch you when he
sees that horse,’—which proved a magician that led him
towards his object—an Aigis that shielded him on his
way.

In like manner to the people of France, the ‘ Moniteur’

has just officially made the two following announce-
ments :—

* Algiers, 19th September, 1860.

“The Emperor and Empress yesterday morning laid the first
stone of the fine boulevard which is to run along the shore. An
immense concourse of persons, both French and native, were col-—
lected, eager to see their Majesties, and the ceremony displayed a
most picturesque character. Under the skilful direction of General
Jusuf, contingents of the Kabyle infantry and cavalry of the three
provinces, with all the Aghas and Caids at their head, had been
assembled to come aud pay homage to the Emperor. After a sham
fight between the different tribes a grand fantasia took place by
from 9000 to 10,000 horsemen rushing forward at the swiftest
gallop, and discharging their firearms before their Majesties’ tent ;
aiterwards a magnificent charge was given by twelve squadrons of
Spahis, crossing the plain like a hurricane; then followed tilting
matches, gazelle, ostrich, and falcon hunts; a grand filing-off of
the Touaregs, with their faces veiled, and mounted on their
camels ; and of the Chambaas, those inhabitants of the depths of
the Desert, and the future carriers of French commerce into the
Soudan. After, in short, one of the most splendid spectacles that
could be imagined, all the Goums, forming an immense line of
battle, advanced majestically, with banners displayed and muskets
held high in the air, towards the eminence on which the Emperor’s
tent had been pitched. The chiefs, clad in the richest burnous,
alighted from their steeds and came in a body to present the horse
of homage, caparisoned with gold, and thus perform an act of sub=
mission to the Sovereign of France. At this moment, rendered

THE HORSE. 18

solemn by the beauty of the scene and the warlike appearance of
the various tribes whose long resistance has given glory to the
French arms, the Emperor could not prevent himself from giving
way to visible emotion. ‘The Bey of Tunis was present at this
grand solemnity.”

“‘ Paris, 28th September, 1860,

“‘General Count Pierre Schouvaloff, Grand Master of Police at
St. Petersburg, and his brother, Count Paul Schouvaloff, both
aides-de-camp to the Emperor of Russia, were received the day be-
fore yesterday by the Emperor Napoleon, and had the honour of
presenting to his Majesty four horses, sent as a present by the
Emperor Alexander. ‘These fine animals, which have been accom-
panied to Paris by a veterinary surgeon, four hussars, and a non-
commissioned officer of the Imperial Guard, are of the celebrated
Orloff race, and come from the Imperial breeding stud at Chre-
novsky. ‘They were selected from among a great number by the
Ozar himself; and during the two months that their journey from
the very heart of Russia has occupied, they have been the objects of
the greatest care. His Majesty greatly admired the beauty,
strencth, and symmetry of the horses, and expressed to the Counts
Schouvaloff how gratified he felt at a mark of attention which
showed the friendly relations existing between the two Sove-
reigns.” ;

In war, the value of these noble animals to man is well
described by Shakspeare’s thrilling exclamation of King
Richard—

“A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!”

In like manner, in civil life, how often has the school-
boy, who in his infancy had clutched with ecstasy his toy
—a little spotted horse on wheels—felt that he would
give his birthright for a pony !

14 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.
a eee

On his arriving at Oxford or Cambridge, how often has
the undergraduate, for the professed purposes of applica-
tion and recreation, submitted to his parents or cuardians
4 supplication for those three stereotyped wants of col-
lege life, “a little money, a private tutor, and a horse!”
Afterwards, in his manhood, and even in his old age,
how often has the Prime Minister of England, during a
most important debate, risen from his seat in Par-
liament to propose to the legion of senators around
him “that this House shall adjourn from Tuesday to
Thursday,” for the well known object (acknowledged
by “loud and protracted cheering”) of enabling him-
self, those who surround him, and everybody else, “to
go to the Derby,” to purchase “ Dorling correct card
of the names of the HORSES, and the colours of their
RIDERS !”

Among our leading statesmen, how many, as patrons of
the turf, have purchased for several thousand oulneas—a
horse! How many, including Pitt, Fox, Lord Althorp,
Lord Derby, Lord Palmerston, Sir Francis Burdett, &e.,
&c., have been ardent followers of hounds!

Her Majesty Queen Victoria and the Emperor Napoleon
III. each keep a pack of stag-hounds ; the Prince Consort,
a pack of harriers. During the Peninsular war, and again
while commanding the army of occupation in France,

the Duke of Wellington, besides fighting and writing,

THE HORSE, 15

maintained either a pack of fox-hounds or boar-hounds.*
George III. was strongly attached to hunting; his great
grandson, the Prince of Wales, “ loves it better still.”

In all our streets, in our fields, in our highways and
bye-ways, along the surface of merry England, and across
it; under ground in coal-mines; revolving in a mill ;—
in short, in every direction, and wherever we go, we see
before us—sometimes as man’s companion, sometimes as
his servant, sometimes as his slave, and occasionally as
his master—the horse, respecting which and his rider we
will flow, without further preamble, venture to offer to

our readers the few following remarks,

* About 44 years ago a Frenchwoman, the proprietor of a small
farm, showed us, as a great curiosity, a “billet de logement”
which had been inflicted upon her, of which the following is a trans-
lated copy :—

“The widow will lodge for one night fifty-four dogs.” [The Duke
of Wellington’s hounds just arrived from England. ]
“ (Signed) —.
‘* Mayor.”

“‘Tmaginez-vous donc,” exclaimed the poor old lady, uplifting
her eyes and the palms of both hands; ‘‘ Imaginez-vous donc—
cinquante-quatre chiens ! !”

Avd

16 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

Mr. Rarey’s Mope or Susppurnac Horses.

Ir is a singular fact, that although England produces the
finest horses in the world, and though the English people
have always fancied they understood their management
better than any other nation, yet, lately, not only have
we all been astonished by the superior knowledge on
this subject of a trans-Atlantic cousin, but what is still
more surprising, our sporting men have rushed forwards
to pay to Mr. Rarey no less a sum than about 15,0004.
for exhibiting to them a system of horse-breaking, the
philosophy of which is based upon a few simple facts,
which, although unreflected on, have ever been lying
close before our eyes.

Of all animals in creation, there is no one we should all
of us be so very sorry to lose as the horse. In peace and
in war, on burning sands under the equator, or on eternal
snow in the frigid zone, for pleasure or for business, well
fed or starving, he is always not only ready, but eager,
to the utmost of his streneth, to serve a master, but too
often inconsiderate, ungrateful to him, and unjust. As
soon as his courage is excited, no fall, bruise, blow, or
wound, that does not paralyse the mechanism of his limbs,
will stop him; indeed, with his upper and lower jaw

shot away, and with the skin dangling in ribands, we have

MR. RAREY’S MODE OF SUBDUING HORSES. 17

seen him cantering, apparently careless and unconscious
of his state, alongside of the horse artillery gun from
which he had just been cut adrift.

But although in the hunting-field, on the race-course,
or in harness, a horse will generally, from sheer pluck,
go till he drops, yet, whenever he encounters physical
strength greater than his own, our hero all of a sudden
acts like an arrant coward.

For instance, in the mail, it apparently matters not to
the spirit of the horses whether there be one passenger or
six—leght bags or heavy ones; on the contrary, the
greater the weight, the more eagerly do they strain to
force it to follow them. The faster they are allowed to
go, the harder do they pull, until, if the reims were to
break, they would enjoy the opportunity by running away,
not as in the days of Phaeton with the chariot of the
sun, but with say a ton and a half, of they know not
what, at their heels. And yet, if on the following day
the same high-flying, high-spirited, high-mettled horses
were to be hooked to a sturdy living oak tree, after two or
three ineffectual snatches to move it, no amount of punish-
ment would be sufficient to induce them to go to the end
of their traces ; in short, to use a well-known expression,
they would all ‘jzb.” Again, if a horse in harness, how-
ever resolutely he may be proceeding, slips upon pave-
ment, and falls heavily on his side, after vainly making

B

18 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

three or four violent struggles to rise, he becomes all of a
sudden so completely cowed, that not only without any
resistance does he allow his harness piecemeal to be
unbuckled, the carriage detached, and pushed away far
behind him, but, when lying thus perfectly unfettered,
it requires kicks, stripes, and a malediction or two, to
induce him to make the little effort necessary to rise from
his prostrate state.

Again, in the hunting-field, a noble, high-couraged
horse, a rusher at any description of fence, the very sight
of which seems to inflame his ardour, in most gallant
style charges a brook, which when he is in the air he
sees is too broad to be cleared. On his chest striking
against the bank, and while his rider, delighted at feeling
that he is not a bit hurt, is luxuriously rolling over and
over on the green grass like a rabbit that at full speed has
been shot dead, this gallant steed makes two, three, or
four desperate efforts to get to him; and yet, simply
because the mud at the bottom of the brook catches hold
of his hind feet, and the sticky perpendicular clay bank
grasps his fore ones, his courage suddenly fails him, and
as nothing will then induce him to make another effort,
it becomes necessary to send, often several miles, for
cart-horses to drag this high-bred animal out by his
neck.

But although this strange mixture of courage and cow-

a

MR. RAREY’S MODE OF SUBDUING HORSES. 19

ardice appears to us at first to be inexplicable, yet on
reflection we must perceive that it is in strict accordance
with the beneficent decree that ‘man should have domi-
nion over every beast of the field.”

The weight and muscular strength of a horse multi-
plied into each other, form a momentum which, if his
courage were as indomitable as that of man, would make
him the master instead of the servant of the human race ;
and accordingly, although, for all the purposes for which
man can require them, his energy and endurance are in-
vincible, yet, to ensure his subjection, his courage has
been so curiously constituted, that, as it were, by touching
the small secret spring of a safety valve, the whole of
it instantly evaporates; and although Mr. Rarey has
not exactly explained this theory, he has, with extra-
ordinary intelligence and success, reduced it to practice
as follows :—

When a horse of a sensitive and sensible disposition
is placed under the care of a man of weak nerves, he very
soon finds out that, by the help of his body, teeth, and
heels, that is to say by squeezing, crushing, biting, and
kicking his groom, he is able to frighten him; and no
sooner is this victory attained, than the tyrant begins to
misbehave himself to everybody in every possible way,
until, as in the case of Cruzser, it is declared dangerous to

approach him, even with food ; that no man can ride him ;

B2

20 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

in fact, that he is an- animal beautiful to look at, but tho-
roughly useless to mankind.

Now, to cure this disorder, the wild beast, for such
he is, with great precaution, by several guy-ropes, is
led close to the wheel of a waggon, under which Mr.
Rarey, putting his hands through the spokes, manages
to lift up and gently strap up one fore-leg, and to affix
a long strap to the fetlock of the other, which two
simple operations at once ensure the victory he is about
to attain.

As it gives a horse not the slightest pain or incon-
venience to stand for a short time on one fore-leg,
Cruiser, while “amazed he stares around,” is scarcely
aware that he is dog so; and as he is totally uncon-
scious of the existence of the other strap, he is perfectly
astounded to find that no sooner does he attempt to
resent Mr. Rarey’s bold approach and grasp, than, ap-
parently by the irresistible power of man, he is suddenly
deprived of the use of both his fore-legs.

The longer and the more violently he can be en-
couraged to resist, the more deathlike will be the trance
in which he is about to le. He struggles—struggles
—struggles—until, as in the three instances we have
described, his courage all at once evaporates, and with
heaving flank, panting nostrils, palpitating heart, flabby

muscles, and the perspiration bursting through every pore

MR. RAREYS MODE OF SUBDUING HORSES, 21

in the skin, he then allows his conqueror to sit on his
ribs, to fiddle in his ears, drum to the gaping and gasp-
ing audience: in short, as the Duke of Wellington
described Lord Ellenborough’s proclamation about the
gates of Sumnauth, to sing over his carcase ‘“‘a song of
triumph.” And thus as Achilles was mortally wounded
in the only vulnerable part of his body—the heel,—so
does Cruiser find that in a heart which had never before
failed him, and which had been the terror of all who
approached him, there exists a weak point, discovered
by Mr. Rarey, which has caused his complete subjection
to man.

“Ts this the face that faced ten thousand men,

And was at last out-faced by Bolingbroke?”

In old times this conversion of the bully into the
coward could only be effected, at great risk, by courage
and physical force, as follows :—

Some years ago Captain ——, the well-known steeple-
chase rider, bought at Tattersall’s, for a very small sum,
a magnificent horse that no stranger in the yard dared
approach, and which therefore was ‘‘ put up” and honestly
sold as a “ man-killer.”

On these propensities being explained by the purchaser
to his head groom, the resolute fellow bluntly replied that
he would not at all object to take care of the beast pro-
vided he were allowed, “in self-defence, to kill or cure

22 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

him ;” and accordingly, as soon as the homicide entered
his stable, with a steady step, but avoiding looking into
his eye, he walked up to him, and then, not waiting
for a declaration of war, but with a short, heavy bludgeon,
striking the inside of his knees, he ‘knocked his fore legs
from under him, and the instant he fell, belaboured his
head and body until the savage proprietor of both became
so completely terrified, that he ever afterwards seemed
almost to quail whenever his conqueror walked up to
him.

Now, on comparing the two opposite systems, humane
and inhuman, scientific and unscientific, just described,
it must be apparent to everybody, that while for the
latter a powerful hero must be procured, all that is
requisite for the former is calmness, gentleness, and two
little straps which, in a lower stratum, physically fight a
desperate battle, above which man morally and serenely
presides ; the horse, nevertheless, all the while ascribing
to him alone the whole credit of the victory eventually
attained.

Under the ordinary process used by horse-breakers, it
requires several weeks before a colt—often broken down
as well as in by the operation—surrenders his own will
to that of his mder, whereas Mr, Rarey has not only in
public repeatedly demonstrated, but many who have fol-

lowed his prescription have testified, that a young

,

/

*
4

bal |

MR. RAREY’S SYSTEM EXEMPLIFIED. 23

thorough-bred horse, perfectly unbroken, can, in the
course of about half-an-hour, be so thoroughly conquered
by the two straps which he conceives to be part and
parcel of the irresistible strength of his master, that so
soon as he is satisfied that his own powers of resistance
are of no avail, he subserviently allows himself to be
bridled, saddled, mounted, and ridden.

The principle of Mr. Rarey’s system of domination is
at this moment curiously exemplified in the little dairy
farm-yard of Mr. Roff, residing on the Brighton road, near
Croydon.

Some months ago, on approaching these premises, we
observed a lot of children playing with a yearling colt,
who, to our surprise, was allowing them to crawl between
his legs and fondle him in various ways, just as if he were
a dog. On riding into the yard to inquire by what ma-
gical means the little quadruped had keen made so gentle
and tame, we were informed by the old farmer who
owned him that his wife, kind to all her beasts,—

; ‘She milk’d the dun cow that ne’er offer’d to stir:

Though wicked to all, it was gentle to her,’"—
had for many years been yearning to add to them a pet
colt; that accordingly he had lately bought her one, and
that she had tamed it: with uxorious pride he added
‘she could tame anything.” As, however, we were per-

fectly convinced that his good wife, in spite of her comely,

24 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

honest face, could not fascinate a horse’s heart quite as
easily as a husband’s, we cross-questioned the latter for a
considerable time, until he at last mentioned (as if it had
nothing whatever to do with the subject) that when he
purchased the yearling (whose mother had just died), not
knowing how to bring it to his wife, with the assistance
of one or two men he strapped together all its four feet,
and then, lifting it into his cart, just as if it had been a
calf, he trotted away with it, jolting it and jumbling it
till he reached his home, where he uncarted it, and, in due
time, with his own hands, restored to it the use of its limbs.

Of course this was a much stronger dose of discipline
and subjection than Mr. Rarey has ever found necessary
to administer, even to Cruiser; “and there can exist no
doubt it was this cooling medicine, this soothing mixture,
which had produced the strange and salutary effects that
had attracted us into the little yard. And thus, in every
region of the globe, not only colts and horses, but all living
animals, man especially included, surrender at discretion
to any authority which, after a fruitless strugegle—such
a one for instance as induced Napoleon I., on the 15th
of July, 1815, to seek for refuge on board H. M. ship
Bellerophon from the allied armies of Europe—they find
it to be utterly impossible to resist.

The differences between the character and conduct of

ee

WILD AND TAME HORSES COMPARED. 25

a wild horse and a tame one are, we believe, not very
clearly understood. It is generally conceived that in the
difficulty of adhering, technically termed sticking to the
back of a horse, there exist three degrees of comparison,
namely :—

1. That it is rather difficult to ride a horse that has

been broken in.

9. That it is exceedingly difficult to ride one that has
been petted, patted, bitted, lounged, but not mounted.

3. That it must be almost impossible to mount and ride
a wild horse just caught, that has never been touched
by a human hand.

We will, however, humbly venture to assert that, in
certain instances, the three steps of this little ladder

might be reversed.

1. In a state of nature the horse is such a zealous
advocate of our popular principle of “ self-government,”
he is so desirous to maintain his “independence,” that
although he will allow almost any quadruped, even wolves
and lions, to approach within a certain distance, yet the
moment he sees a man, though on horseback, he instinct-
ively turns his tail towards him, and, when followed,
gallops away.

If, consequently, by the triumph of reason over instinct
he be caught, or rather by the lasso tumbled -head over

26 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

heels, saddled, and if all of a sudden, to his vast astonish-
ment, he finds sitting astride his back, with a cigar in his
mouth, the very human being he has always been avoid-
ing, his first and almost only feeling is that of fear; and
accordingly, if he be retained by the bridle, instantane-
ously, by a series of jumps on all four legs, he makes
impromptu his first hurried, untaught, unpractised effort
to dislocate a rider. But if, instead of being as it were
invited to perform these unsophisticated antics, he be
allowed, or rather, by whip and severe spurs, be propelled
to do what he most ardently desires, namely, run away,
his power of resistance is over, and his subjection ine-
vitable. For at the top of his speed, just as when swim-
ming, a horse can neither rear, kick, nor plunge, and
therefore at his best pace he proceeds on his sure road
to ruin, until not only all his wind is pumped out of
him, but after that, until twisted hide-thong and sharp
iron have converted his terror of man into an ardent
desire to be obedient to his will. In fact, like a small
nation that has unsuccessfully been contending against a
great one, he wishes to put an end to the horrors of war,

and to sue for the blessings of peace.

2. Ifa domestic horse that has been handled, fondled,
but never ridden, be suddenly saddled and mounted, the
rider has greater difficulties to encounter than those just

described: for the animal is not only gifted by nature

WILD AND TAME HORSES COMPARED. 4

with all the propensities of the wild horse to reject man,
but, from being better fed, he has greater strength to
indulge in them; besides which he enjoys the immense
advantage of being in a civilized, or, in plainer terms, an
enclosed country. Accordingly, instead of being forced
to run away, his rider is particularly afraid lest he should
do so, simply because he knows that the remedy which
would cure the wild horse, would probably kill dim. In
fact, the difference to the rider between an open and an
enclosed field of battle is exactly that which a naval officer
feels in scudding in a gale of wind out of sight of land,
and in being caught among sandbanks and rocks in a narrow
channel.

3. Of all descriptions of horses, wild and tame, by far
the most difficult to ride is that young British thorough-
bred colt of two or three years old that has been regularly
“broken in” by himself, without giving the slightest
warning, to jump away sideways, spin round, and at the
same moment kick off his rider. The feat is a beautiful
and well-arranged combination of nature and of art.
Like the pugilistic champion of England—Tom Sayers—
he is a professional performer, gifted with so much
strength and activity, and skilful in so many quick, artful
tricks and dodges, that any country practitioner who
comes to deal with him is no sooner up than down, io

rise from his mother earth with a vague, bewildered,

28 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

incoherent idea as to what had befallen him, or ‘ how
he got there.”

If a horse of this description and a wild one were
to be mounted simultaneously, each by an equally good
rider, in an unenclosed, uncultivated region, both the
quadrupeds probably at the same moment would be
seen to run away: the Briton for ever, to gain his

liberty ; the other quadruped, just as surely, to lose it!

Having now sufficiently discussed the character and
conduct of the horse, we will presume to offer, or
rather to bequeath to our readers, a very few observa-
tions as regards his rider.

SEAT ON A HORSE.

The best position of a man on horseback is, of course,
that which is most agreeable to both animals, and which,
from its ease and flexibility, as they skim together over
the surface of the earth, apparently combmes them imto
one.

Like everything in Nature, the variety of seats is in-
finite. They may, however, generically be divided
into two classes :

1. In the great plains of South America, in which it

SEAT ON A HORSE, 29

may truly be stated that for every male inhabitant
above five or six years of age Nature maintains at no
cost, no tax, and at no trouble to him, a stud of horses
whose number is legion, the rider sits almost perpendi-
cularly, with the great toe of each foot resting very
lightly on, and often merely touching its small triangular
stirrup, his legs grasping the horse’s sides slightly or
tightly, as prosperous or adverse circumstances may
require,

In this attitude, which may be said to be that of
standing astride over rather than sitting upon the sad-
dle, the pivot upon which the rider, gracefully bending
his body with a ball and socket movement, turns—in
throwing his lasso, in thrusting his lance forwards on
either side, or in looking behind him—is what is
termed by sporting men his “ fork.”

In the few instances where pistols are carried, they
are affixed behind the right thigh, firstly, that in the
common occurrence of the horse falling in his gallop,
they may not prevent the rider from rolling clear away
from him; and, secondly, because in that position the
- weapons are close to the rider’s right hand, which, as he
flies along, is to be seen always dangling just above the
but ends, ready to grasp them the imstant they are
required.

This attitude is not only highly picturesque, but parti-

30 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

cularly easy to the rider, who, while partaking of the
undulating motion of his horse, can rest his wearied
body by slight imperceptible changes of position on
the pivot or “fork,” on which, like corn waving in the
wind, it bends.

The British cavalry sit astride above their saddles
very nearly in this attitude, which, as we have just
explained, enables them with great facility to cut, or
give point in front, right or left, at cavalry or at
infantry ; and if they were not embarrassed by their
clothing, as well as by their accoutrements, and if, as
in the region to which we have alluded, they were to
use no pace but the gallop, each would soon become,
or rather he could not help apparently becoming, part
and parcel of his horse. But our gallant men, although
they have been subjected to innumerable experimental
changes of dress, &c., continue not only hampered and
imperilled by a hard cloak, holsters, and carbine affixed
in front of their thighs, and imprisoned, especially round
their necks, within tight clothing, but their travelling
pace, the trot (a jolting movement unknown and un-
heard of in the plains of South America), gives to
their body and limbs a rigidity painful to look at, and
in long journeys wearisome to man and horse. Indeed
in the French cavalry, and occasionally in our own, the

manner in which the soldier, in not a bad attitude, is

SEAT ON A HORSE. ol

seen hopping high into the air, on and off his saddle,
as his horse, at apparently a different rate, trots beneath
him, forms as ridiculous a caricature of the art of
riding as the pencil of our Punch’s “Leech” could pos-

sibly delineate.

2. Throughout the United Kingdom, civilians of all
classes, gentlemen, farmers, and yeomen, especially those
who occasionally follow the hounds, adopt what is com-
monly called ‘the hunting seat,” in which, instead of
“the fork,” the knees form the pivot, or rather hinge,
the legs beneath them the grasp, while the thighs, like
the pastern of a horse, enable the body above to rise and
fall as lightly as a carriage on its springs.

In this attitude the rider cannot turn his body to
the right or left, or look behind him as easily as he could
revolve upon his ‘‘ fork.”

For rough riding, however, of every description, We
hunting seat, though infinitely less graceful, is superior
to that of the cavalry of Europe, for the following

reasons :—

One of the most usual devices by which a horse endea-
vours to, and but too often succeeds in dislodging his
rider, is by giving to his back, by a sudden kick, a jerk
upwards, which, of course, forces in the same direction

towards the sky that nameless portion of humanity which

(She)
bo

THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

was partly resting on it, and which in the cavalry can-
not possibly get very far away from it.

But, in the hunting seat, the instant the mder expects
such a kick, by merely rising in his stirrups he at once
raises or abstracts from the saddle the point his enemy
intends to attack, and accordingly the blow aimed at
it fails to reach it.

Again, on approaching a large fence, by the same
simple precaution, the rider entirely avoids the concus-
sion of that sudden jerk or effort necessary to enable
the horse to clear it. In a fall, the pommel of the saddle
and the horse’s neck and head are much easier cleared
by short stirrup-leathers than by long ones. Lastly, in a
common trot, the former soften the jolt, which the latter
cannot easily avoid. In short, in a hunting seat, the
rider, to his great comfort and relief, rests more or less
on his saddle as long as he likes, and yet, the instant
he anticipates a blow from it, leaves it, without me-
taphor . . . behind him.

Of horsemanship it may truly be said, that about four-
fifths of the art depend on attaiming a just seat, and
one-fifth on possessing a pair of light hands.* But
although the attainment of these advantages is not in-
compatible with an easy, erect position on horseback,

* Beckford says, “First attribute of a good huntsman is courage. Next,
hands and seat.”

~
ee

SEAT ON A HORSE, ot

the generality of riders are but too apt to sit on their
horses in the bent attitude of the last paroxysm or
exertion which helped them into the saddle. Now,
when a man in this toad-like position rides along—say
a macadamized road—he travels always ready, at a mo-
ment’s notice, to proceed by himself in the direction in
which he is pointing, in case the progress of his horse
should be suddenly stopped by his falling down. Indeed,
when a horse, without falling down, recovers by a vio-
lent struggle from a bad trip, a heavy rider in this
attitude (called by Sir Bellingham Graham “a wash-
ball seat”) is very liable to shoot forwards over his head
im a parabolic curve, ending in a concussion of his
brain or in the dislocation of his neck,—the horse stand-
ing by his motionless body perfectly uninjured.

On the other hand, when a man sits upright, justly
balanced on his saddle, any sudden jerk or movement
forwards throws his shoulders backwards. If therefore,
while proceeding in that position, the horse thinks proper
to fall, the animal in the first instance is the sole suf-
ferer. He cuts his forehead, hurts his nose, breaks his
knees, bruises his chest, while his head, neck, forelegs,
and the forepart of his body, forced into each other hke
the joints of a telescope, form a buffer, preventing the
concussion the horse has received, from injuring, in the
smallest degree, the rider, or even the watch in his

Cc

34 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

pocket, which, without being ejected from the saddle,
goes ticking, ticking, ticking on, just as merrily as if
nothing had happened. If he only trips, a rider poised
justly in his saddle can easily recover him.

A horse will not only refrain from treading upon any
creature lying on the ground, but in hunting he will make
the utmost possible effort to avoid putting a foot upon his
master whenever

“On the bare earth exposed he lies.”

If, however, his owner, from a bad seat or from false
precaution, has suddenly thrown himself from his back,
it is often impossible for the animal, while struggling to
recover from a desperate trip, to avoid either trampling
upon or violently striking him.

For this reason a rider should never abandon his saddle
so long as his horse beneath it has a leg, or an infini-
tesimal part of one, to stand on, But so soon as his
downfall is announced by that heavy, thundering concus-
sion against the ground, the meaning of which it 1s impos-
sible to mistake, the partnership should instantaneously
be dissolved by the horseman rolling, if possible, out of
harm’s way. ,

But it occasionally happens not only that the horse
rolls too, but that the larger roller overtakes the smaller
one, the two lying prostrate, with the legs in boots under

the body whose limbs wear only shoes.

SEAT ON A HORSE. 35

If the rider happens fortunately to have the saddle
between him and the horse, his legs merely sustain a
heavy weight, from which they are harmlessly extricated
the instant the animal rises.

Should he happen wnfortunately to have the girths
between him and the horse, he lies, like Ariel in the
cloven pine, “ painfully imprisoned,” in a predicament
of which it is impossible for any one to foretell the
results.

As the quadruped is always more or less cowed by his
fall, he remains usually for about a minute or two as still
as if he were dead.

All of a sudden, however, just as if a bayonet had been
run into him, he struggles to rise.

To do so it is necessary that all his feet should take
hold of the ground. This they are prevented from doing
by the rider’s boots, which, operating as a handspike under
the body, keep it in a horizontal position, thereby causing
the four legs, like two pairs of blacksmith’s sledge-ham-
mers, to continue to strike heavily towards each other.

Between them lies, acting in this little tragedy the part
of Anvil, the poor rider, who can only avoid the hard
blows of two fore iron shoes, by wincing from them to
within the reach of two hind ones.

This violent struggle eventually ends by the horse rising,
leaving on the field of battle, slightly, seriously, or des-

c 2

36 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

perately wounded, his master, whom he never intended
to hurt.

In the hunting field, the bent position im the saddle
produces equally unpleasant results. On man and horse
coming cheerily to a fence, with what mathematicians
call “an unknown quantity” on the other side, if the
rider sits justly on his saddle, it is the horse and not he
that receives the concussion of any fall that may ensue,
simply because the spring of his animal in taking the
leap had thrown his shoulders backwards, and conse-
quently his head out of danger; whereas the nose of the
gentleman who had been riding alongside of him in the
bent attitude of a note of interrogation, is seen to plough
into its mother earth the instant the muzzle of his horse
impinges upon it.

For exactly the same reasons, in every description of
fall (and no volume would be large enough to contain
them all), similar results occur; and yet there is no pre-
dicament in which ‘“Toady” appears to greater disad-
vantage, and so keenly feels it, than when, in following
the hounds, he has to descend a very precipitous and
rather slippery grass hill.

If a horse be but properly dealt with, he can gallop
down a turf hill with nearly as much rapidity as along
a racecourse. A. tea-table would stand ill at ease on the

declivity, because its limbs are immovyeable; but a qua-

SEAT ON A HORSE. oT

druped, by throwing all his legs forwards and his body
backwards, has the power to adjust himself, with mathe-
matical precision, to almost any descent.

To insure his safety, however, it is essential that he
should be encouraged, by a loose rein, to carry his head
as low as possible, to enable him to take care of his feet,
and in case of treading on a rolling-stone to recover his
balance by throwing it up. Now, when in this position,
if the rider, following the instinct and the example of
the horse, throws his weight backwards—in fact, if from
the saddle the backs of the two animals are separated
from each other by only a very small angle, both can
descend the hill together at considerable speed without
the smallest danger. The only embarrassment the rider
has to contend against is an over-caution on the part of
the horse, amounting to fear, which induces him to try
to take the slope diagonally, very likely to result in
the poor animal slipping up on his side. In keeping
his head straight, however, care must be taken not to
induce him to raise it wp; and when this little diffi-
culty is overcome, no other of any sort or kind remains
to impede a safe and rapid descent.

Seated on his saddle, in the attitude we have de-
scribed, that admirable rider Jack Shirley, whipper-in
to the Tedworth hunt, with a large open clasp-knife
in his mouth, was one day observed fixing a piece of

38 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

whipeord to his lash, while following his hounds at a
slapping pace, down hill, his reins lying nearly loose
on old “ Gadsby’s” neck.

On the other hand when a gentleman, however fearless
he may be, sitting at an angle of 45°, like a 13-inch
mortar on its bed, attempts to ride down the steep
declivity described, the afflictions that befall him are
really piteous, for the instant his horse’s fore legs sink
considerably lower than the hind ones, he feels that unless
he holds on very tightly, he must inevitably pitch over
the bows of the vessel that is carrying him. To main-
tain his equilibrium he therefore pulls a little at his eurb-
bit, which not only raises his horse’s head till it nearly
touches his nose, but throws the animal and the weight
he carries into such a false position, that 1t becomes difli-
cult and dangerous to advance. ‘The restrained quad-
ruped, impatient to follow the horses before him, yet
altogether out of gear, on every little twitch at his bridle
keeps chucking up his head, until the rider, who a
moment ago expected to fall over his ears, now feels that
he is going to glide backwards over his tail, which 1s
nearly touching the hill. In short, the poor horse is
resting on his hocks instead of his hoofs, with his fore
feet barely touching the ground.

When a lot of riders find themselves in this hopeless

attitude, they generally, according to their amount of

SEAT ON A HORSE. 39

activity, crawl, jump, or vault from their saddles to
descend on foot, which they soon find very little im-
proves their case, for the heels of their boots not being,
like horse-shoes, concave, take insufficient hold of the
turf; and thus while they are slipping, sliding, and
tottering in the descent, each linked to a quadruped that
is bothering him to death, if, feeling a little alarmed,
they resolve to stop for a moment or two, their impatient
horses, unable to advance and unwilling to stand still,
often compromise the matter by running round their
masters, with the chance of rolling them, like ninepins,
down the hill.

In galloping for many hours, and especially for many
days, as soon as the muscles of the rider, by getting tired,
lose their obstinacy, it becomes impossible for him, if he
sits upright, to prevent his body undulating, to the infi-
nite relief of both parties, with every movement of the
horse ; whereas, if, ike an English jockey, whose seat is
well adapted for galloping at the utmost speed for a few
minutes, he rides like a frog on a shovel, he inflicts upon
his whole frame, as well as upon the poor animal that
carries him, an amount of unnecessary fatigue which pre-
maturely tires both.

For the foregoing reasons if gentlemen sportsmen who
occupy on the road and the hunting-field this false posi-
tion, would but allow Mr. Calcraft, in his peculiar way,

40 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

to lift them about half a dozen times a few inches into the
air, and then, as a tallow-chandler dips his candles, lower
them gently, easily, and perpendicularly to their saddles,
they would find themselves promoted in the world to a seat
on horseback which they would never wish to abandon.
As, however, our readers, we fear, must have become
very tired of the saddle, we will now relieve them from
hogskin, to submit to them a very few practical obser-
vations on the management of the bridle, the ordinary
uses of which, as everybody knows, are twofold, namely,
first to guide a horse, and secondly to restrain, or, when

requisite, to stop him.

As it is the disposition of a horse, when mounted, to
go fast, and as it is the disposition of a man to pull at any
thing in this world as little as possible, curb-bits and
curb-chains (as their names truly denote) have been in-
vented, by which the animal in all his movements on
parade or on the road is slightly thrown on his haunches,
with his head raised more or less above its natural level.
In this position his eyes are of course proportionally
elevated, and as there exists no obstruction on the maca-
damized roads, &c., on which he travels, he soon ceases to
look downwards; and although, if he then happens to
pass over a little hole, he may put a foot into it, or may

slightly blunder over half a shovelfull of loose stones which

MANAGEMENT OF THE BRIDLE. 4]

had escaped his observation, yet, if he has good action,
and a tolerable rider, he earns the character of being a
* capital hack.”

Now to metamorphose “a hack” into “a hunter” is
principally effected by the bridle, and yet the great
difficulty of the art is to learn not how much, but how
little to use it; in short, a considerable portion of what
the bridle has done has to be undone. Accordingly,
imstead of being encouraged to travel on his haunches
with his fore legs lightly touching the ground, the latter
must be required to bear the greater portion of the burden,
which it is the duty of the hind legs to propel. The
head has to be brought down to its proper level; and to
induce or rather to oblige the horse to make his eyes
the lantern of his feet, to study geology instead of astro-
nomy, he should be slowly ridden, with a loose rein, over
every little hole, grip, or heap that would be likely to
throw a hack down. Whenever he can be made to
stumble (if the rider feels that he will not actually fall),
the reins should instantly be dropped. In lke manner
he should be walked for several days over the roughest
ground that can be found, particularly land that has been
excavated to obtain the substratum and left in holes.
With a perfectly loose rein he should be gently trotted,
gently cantered, and gently galloped over a surface of
this description, the rider always dropping the rem when

42 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

he blunders. Vegetius, in describing the horsemanship
of the Parthians in the time of Xerxes, states that in
order to make their horses sure-footed over rough, broken
ground, they placed on a space of level ground a number
of wooden troughs of different heights, filled with earth,
over which in galloping they had many falls.

Under similar treatment, the strength, activity, intelli-
gence, and eyesight of the animal wili, as in a wild state,
cordially be combined by him to protect himself from the
degradation as well as punishment of falling; and so
ample and sufficient are these powers, that the rider will
soon find, that instead of having to hold his horse up, it
has become out of his power to throw him down. In fact,
under the guidance of nature, rather than of man, “the
hack” in a very short period, and without going over a
fence of any sort or kind, may thus be made competent to
follow hounds across any country in the United Kingdom ;
while, on the other hand, the nag that had only been
taught in a riding-school or in a dealer’s yard to jump
neatly over bars, gates, and hurdles, would, most parti-
cularly to the neck of his rider, prove to be infinitely
worse than useless.

Of course a horse is not a perfect hunter until he has
had a small amount (for he does not require much)
of experience in leaping; but as, with the exception of

water, every horse is able, willing, and eager to jump,

MANAGEMENT OF THE BRIDLE. 45

generally speaking, more than is desired, his rider has
merely to teach the noble animal beneath him to add
to his valour just enough discretion to induce him to
look, not before, but while he leaps.

A hunter when following hounds is so excited, that
if, in addition to his own eagerness, he be hurried at his
fences, he rushes more and more recklessly at them, until
he gets into needless trouble. On the other hand, just as
he approaches every fence, if he be always patted on
the neck, and gently restrained, he feels satisfied that
he is to be allowed to do the job; and accordingly, cur-
tailing his stride as he approaches, he does it not only
cleverly, but without any waste of exertion, which, to
use a common hunting-field expression, “he may want
before the day’s over.”

When a horse is enabled, like a soldier whose stiff
stock has just been unbuckled, to drop his head to its
natural position, he not only goes safely, but, without
risk of cutting his fetlocks, he can gallop over ground
deeply covered with loose impediments of any descrip-
tion; and, accordingly, in Surrey it has long been a
hunting axiom that it is the curb bridles which by
throwing hunters on their haunches in a false position
cause them to cut their back sinews with those sharp
flints which, in a snafile bit, they can clatter over with-
out injury. A good Northamptonshire rider, in lately

44 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

taking a fence, jumped over it into a stone quarry.
Now, if he had been in the bent attitude we have
described, he must inevitably have pitched on, and
have fractured his skull. From, however, sitting cor-
rectly on his saddle, his ankles, and not his head, suffered.

In hike manner when Mehemet Al, under the pretence
of investing his son, Toossoon Pacha, with the command
of an army, by a treacherous invitation inveigled the
Mamelukes into the summit of the citadel of El Kahira
(the Victorious), commonly called Cairo, and then sud-
denly dropping the portcullis, directed upon them from
barred windows on three sides a murderous fire, Amyn
Bey, rather than submit to such a death, spurring his
Arab charger over his writhing comrades, and across the
low crenated wall, jumped over a precipice of about fifty
feet; and yet, although of the horse it may truly be said
that

“* Headlong from the mountain’s height
He plunged to endless night,”

for, on reaching the hard rock, he was smashed to death,
the rider, who, no doubt, had expected the same fate,
was enabled, with only a broken ankle, to crawl away,
recover, and for nearly thirty years enjoy, with health
and wealth, the well-earned appellation of ‘the last of
the Mamelukes ;” in short

“The man recovered from the blow, the horse it was that died.”

~

GEN. MOORE’S FALL OVER A PRECIPCIE. 45

In further evidence, however, of the theory that when
a man sits properly in his saddle, it is the horse, and
not he, who suffers by a tumble, we submit to our readers
the following extraordinary narration by a young General
officer of high character, who has kindly permitted us to
publish it, briefly describing a fall on horseback to a
depth equal to 40 feet more than the height of the
weather-cock on the steeple of St. Martin’s church, in
London, or to double the height of the Duke of York’s

monument at the bottom of Regent Street.

“¢ United Service Club, 18th March, 1860.

“Tn June, 1848, at the island of Dominica, in the West Indies,
I fell over a precipice of 237 feet perpendicular height, upon the
rocks by the sea-side. ‘This occurred about a quarter past 7 o’clock
P.M., then quite dark, as no twilight exists in the tropics. Every
bone of my horse was broken, and I conceive my escape from in-
stant death the most miraculous that ever occurred. Three men, at
various periods, had previously been dashed to atoms at the same
spot, and one man twelve months after me, when the Legislative
Assembly passed a resolution to secure the road; but if twenty
thousand men were to fall there, I think nothing short of a miracle
could save one of them. My recovery from the shock I sustained
was also as miraculous as my escape with life. I sent out an artist
to take a drawing on the spot, and also had the place surveyed by
an engineer. I have often thought of putting down all the cireum-
stances of that extraordinary accident, but the dread of being taken
for a Baron Munchausen has restrained me. I do not expect that
any one will believe it, although there are many living witnesses.
Nor do I expect any sympathy, for, as soon as I could hold a pen, I
detailed the catastrophe to my mother to account for my long silence.
I received, in reply, in due course, a long letter detailing family
news, without any allusion to my unfortunate case, except in a

46 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

postscript, in which she merely said, ‘ Oh! William, I wish you
would give up riding after dinner.’ *
‘Wm. Yorke Moors, Major-Gen.

“P.S. During the fall I stuck to my horse.”

The details of this astonishing accident are very shortly
as follows :—

Colonel Moore, while commanding the troops in Domi-
nica, lost his way one evening after sunset.

As, in utter darkness, he was endeavouring to get
home, he came to several little imperceptible objects
which he forced his horse to cross. Shortly afterwards
the animal stopped at one which he seemed particularly
afraid of,

The soldier, unwilling to halt between two opinions,
but, on the contrary, determined to proceed as he thought
straight towards his home, at almost full speed rode at
the unknown impediment several times in vain, until the
animal, surrendering his instinctive fears, and possibly
knowledge, to the spurs that were propelling him, with a
violent jump into the air cleared the little low hedge, for

such it proved to be, bounding that awful precipice which,

like a wall, connected the upper story or table-land of

the island with the ocean which in solemn darkness
reigned beneath it.
Colonel Moore states that durmg his passage on horse-

* The accident occurred before dinner,

— SS

GEN. MOORE’S FALL OVER A PRECIPICE. 47

back through the air, almost every event of his life, large
as well as small, at about the rate of the electric tele-
graph, which transmits its ideas one hundred and eighty
thousand miles in a second, flashed across his mind as
distinctly and as vividly as if they were recurring.

By a sort of clairvoyance, of which in medical annals
there exist recorded several similar instances, he saw all
that in his lifetime he had done or left undone, and was
thinking

g, seriatim, of almost every friend and relative,
when, in an instant, all these bright fiery thoughts on
the past, present, or future tenses of his existence became
extinguished by a concussion which, depriving him of his
senses, left him with his legs in the sea and his body on
the rocks, apparently dead.

While lyimg, corpse-like, in this lonely state, whose
beneficent hand was it that all of a sudden dashed upon
his face the cool, fresh soft water that recovered him?
Whose voice was it that, almost at the same moment,
explained to him, not only the accident which had
befallen him, but the time that had elapsed since it
occurred ?
| The hand that restored to him his senses was that
which had already graciously placed his head in safety
upon the rock above the ocean that would have drowned
him, but in which his feet had been harmlessly floating.
It was the hand that had just created the tropical shower

48 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

which, as if administered to him by an angel, awakened
him from his swoon.

It was the hand that, “in the beginning,” when the
earth was without form and void, and darkness was upon
the face of the deep, had created that ‘lesser light to rule
the night,” which, just before he fell, he had observed
rising from the horizon, but which now, shining above
his head, upon four upturned glittering horse-shoes (all he
could see of his mangled beast), made known to him, at a
glance, that what had evidently befallen him, according
to the illuminated clock in the heavens, must have oc-
curred many hours ago.

With cool presence of mind, Colonel Moore, after
making several experimental movements, ascertained that
he was severely cut about the body and head; that his
right ankle was dislocated, and that his back was be-
numbed or paralysed by the concussion of his fall. As
soon, however, as the long wished-for sun rose, it shone
upon his bare, bleeding head with such excruciating force,
that, as a protection from its rays, he transferred his
cotton neckerchief to his scalp and forehead, leaving
sticking up above them the two ends, which, like the
remainder, were stained with his red blood.

After remaining in extreme pain for several hours, to
his great joy he saw a boat full of sable natives rowing

towards the spot on which, in the head-dress just de-

_~

‘wl

GEN. MOORE’S FALL OVER A PRECIPICE. 49

scribed, he was reclining. As soon as they came near to
him, in a faint tone he hailed them. On hearing his
voice, for a few moments they looked eagerly around in

all directions, until they espied him, when, instantly,

just as if they had seen and were pursued by an evil

spirit, away they rowed at their utmost speed.
After a considerable interval another black man came
celambering over the rocks, intent only on catching fish.
As soon, however, as his eyes caught a glimpse of the
poor sufferer’s bloody head and head-gear, the fisherman
was evidently seized with the same impression, and,
accordingly, in a paroxysm of fear, chucking his rod

and lie upwards to fall into the sea, as fast as his

hands and feet’ could carry him, he also, in his way,

scrambled out of sight.

After a long, painful interval, Colonel Moore’s ser-
vant, who, alarmed by his master not having returned,
had for many hours been in search of him, at last
tracked his horse’s feet to the edge of the precipice,
and on looking over it, seeing about half way down a
pockethandkerchief stickmg in the boughs of a small
projecting tree, he returned to the barracks, gave the
alarm, and accordingly, as soon as a boat could be pro-
cured, the soldiers, who rushed forward to man it, pro-
ceeded round the rocks, until Colonel Moore (who knew
nothing of his servant’s discovery) joyfully saw them

D

50 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

pulling, as hard as they could lay to their oars, towards
him.

It need scarcely be added that, regardless of the over-
whelming heat of the sun, the gallant fellows succeeded
im conveying their commanding officer on their shoulders
to the barracks, where he lay for some months in great
pain and danger.

However, in due time, the paralysed muscles of his
back recovered their tone, and eventually, without even
being lame, he became completely restored to the health,
activity, and energy that had always characterised him.

For a considerable time portions of his saddle, strips
of the hide and the broken bones of his horse, which,
lacerated by the branches of the trees:through which
the poor animal had fallen, was literally smashed to
atoms, were collected by people, who amassed a consi-
derable amount of money by exhibiting and selling them
as relics in evidence of one of the most extraordinary
accidents that, under the superimtending direction of

Divine Providence, has ever been survived by man,

MODE OF RIDING AT TIMBER. 51

MopE OF RIDING AT TIMBER.

In getting rapidly across a difficult country there are
two sorts of fences, each of which has to be jumped in a
manner the very opposite of that required by the other.
A young hunter will leap almost any ordinary fence,
particularly if it be broad, as well, and, from his im-
petuosity, often better than an old one. But there is
one description of barrier, called by hunting men “ tim-
ber” (that is to say stiles, gates, and rails, that cannot
be broken), which requires, in both rider and_ horse,
a great deal more discretion than valour: indeed of
*‘timber” it may truly be said that it is the most dan-
gerous and, on the other hand, the safest fence a man can
ride at.

If a young horse, highly excited, be ridden fast for
the first time in his life at a gate, it is very likely he
will clear it; on the other hand, it is quite certain that
if, despising bars through which he can see daylight, he
resolves to break the top one, the penalty attached to his
mistake will be a very heavy one: indeed nothing can
be more disagreeable to a rider and frightful to look
at than the result. Now, of course, the obvious way of
preventing this catastrophe is simply to teach a horse
—firstly, that he cannot break timber,—and secondly,

D2

Or
bo

THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

that he will have to suffer acute pain if he attempts to do
so. Accordingly, away from hounds and under no
excitement, he should be slowly ridden over two or
three low rails that will not break, with an unexpected
little twitch at his rein sufficient to make them severely
strike his hind legs. The moment this is effected the
rider should jump off, to allay anything hke excitement,
and to allow the animal, who will probably stand lifting
up the injured leg, to feel, appreciate, and reflect on the
whole amount of the pain he has incurred. As soon as
it has subsided, he should be again quietly ridden two
or three times over the offending rails, which, it will
then be found, nothing can induce him to touch ; and
having thus, at a small cost, purchased for himself very
valuable experience, he may afterwards in the hunting-
field be carefully made to jump any ordinary amount
of timber.

A sportsman can hardly ride too slowly at high tim-
ber; for as height and width (that is to say to jump
upwards or forwards) require different efforts, it 1s a
waste of the poor animal’s powers to make him do both
when one only is required. In slowly trotting up to
timber of any height or description, the nder should
carefully abstain from attempting, by the bridle, to give
his horse the smallest assistance. On the contrary, the

moment the animal begins to rise, his res should be

MODE OF RIDING AT TIMBER. De

et)

loosened, to be drawn up and tightened only as he
descends. With the single exception we shall soon
notice, this principle of self-management applies to jumps
of all sorts and sizes; for although, by a firm management
of his bridle, a hunter ought to be made to feel as he
approaches a fence that it is utterly impossible for him
to swerve from it, yet the instant he is on the brink of
taking it, his reins, as if by paralysis, should suddenly
cease to afford him the smallest help, or to interfere
Gith the mode in which (with only half a second to
think) he may determine to deal with it. If he expects
assistance, it may arrive a little sooner or a little later
than his patience or impatience approves of, and thus
between two stools (his own will and that of his mder)
both come to the ground; whereas, if he knows that
he has nothing to rely on but himself, he rises at his
timber in the best and safest possible manner—namely,
in his own way.

If we should have succeeded in satisfying our readers
that they cannot ride too slowly at timber, we trust
they will pardon us if we now endeavour to enforce upon
them as an equally immutable axiom, that it is impossi-
ble for them to ride too fast at water.

54 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

WATER JUMPING.

Throughout England, and especially in Leicestershire
and Northamptonshire, there are two descriptions of
brooks. In one the water is about a foot or twe below
the level of the green fields through which it peacefully
meanders. In the other, though deep enough to drown
a man, it flows and occasionally rushes ten or twelve
feet below the surface, between two loamy banks as per-
pendicular as the wall of a house. Ifa red, brown, or
black coat, attended by a pair of leather, kersey, or cor-
duroy breeches, ending in boots, plunge together into
the first, they simply go in dry and come out wet,
But, if a horse fails to clear the chasm, he is lable not
only to fall backwards upon these articles of apparel, but
afterwards, quite unintentionally, to strike their owner
during the awkward struggles of both animals to swim.

Now, although to some of our readers it may possi-
bly appear that the act of riding over “a bit of water”
of the latter description has no legal claim to be im-
cluded in the schedule headed “ the pleasures and
amusements of man,” yet it may most truly be said that
in a good run, or even in a bad one, there exists nothing
that gives an ordinary rider more intense pleasure than .
the sight, say a quarter of a mile before him, of those
well-known willows that indicate to him the line of

beauty of the brook he is shoitly to have the enjoy-

WATER JUMPING, a1)

ment of encountering—provided always that he knows
his horse to be, what is justly called, “good at water.”
On the other hand, it would be quite impossible to
describe into how very small a compass the same man’s
heart would gradually collapse, as it approached the very
same brook, on what is just as truly termed “a brute
at water.’ In any other description of fence the rider,
if he has not ruined his horse’s courage by vacillation of
hand or heart, may confidently rely that he will accom-
*plish it for him if he can, and if it cannot be accom-
plished, that he will try to jump through or over it, or,
generally speaking, a good deal more than humanity
dares to ride at.

If the bull-finch be too strong, the hunter may stick in
it, or forcing through it into the ditch on the other side,
may leave his owner hanging like a bird’s-nest im its
branches. An ox-fence—composed of two ditches, a
bank, a pair of hedges, and a stiff, low, oak rail—may
altogether prove too broad to be cleared. Timber also
may be too high to be topped; yet, in all these cases,
if the rider be but willing, the noble horse is always ready,
ay, eager, to do his very best, and many a broken back and
prostrate carcase, divested of its saddle and bridle, has been
the melancholy result ; and yet, with all this superabund-
ance of high courage, almost every horse instinctively dis-
hikes to jump water, an element which (until by a good
rider it has been unbewitched) he appears to conceive to

56 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

be forbidden to him to cross. For this reason, before a

sportsman can ride with confidence at a brook, he requires _

not only a stout horse, but to know what sort of a
heart lived beneath the waistcoat of the man by whom
the animal was last hunted, for however badly bred he
may be, he may have been made bold at water; while,
on the other hand, however high-bred and handsome he
may appear, however splendidly and cleverly he may

throughout the run have been crossing single and double

fences of every variety, yet, by an irresolute pair of hands,

he may have been spoiled at water. Accordingly, when
a gallant fox, followed after a short interval by a pack
of hounds and a large scattered body of men and horses,
passing like the shadows of summer clouds over the beau-
tiful green sward of Northamptonshire, glide rapidly
towards a brook, there occasionally appears among several
of them a sudden transmigration of hearts and bodies,
which to a foreigner, who did not understand the reason,
would appear to be utterly inexplicable.

Although ten or twelve horses, gallantly taking it im
their stride, have proved the jump to be an easy one, two
or three of the foremost riders are seen to pull up; appa-
rently afraid. In like manner, as horses and horsemen
who had been riding boldly approach, it becomes evident
to the meanest capacity, that the peg that holds in their
steam is gettine—sometimes in the biped, sometimes in

the quadruped, and sometimes in both—looser and looser

;
:
R

SCENE AT A BROOK. 57

as they advance. ‘The gallop is observed gradually to
faint imto a canter, which, as they approach the water,
gets slower and slower, until souse! souse! souse! they
one after the other blunder into it.

While a horse here is swimming, and there is struggling,
and while a human head with handsome aristocratic fea-
tures and black lank hair looking like that of Don Quixote
when drenched with curds and whey, is seen rising in
agony from below, two little thick-set, short-thighed men
in scarlet, who throughout the run had been shirking
many a small fence, cross the brook with terrific courage.
That thoroughbred-mare, which has been.clearing every-
thing, swerves, while the ugly brute in her wake bucks
over what she had refused as if he enjoyed the fun, which
he really does. See! at what a tremendous pace this
splendid-looking bay horse is galloping towards his doom.
Both spurs are in his sides; the slight waving movement
of the arms and shoulders of his fearless rider, and the
firm grip of his hands, as he draws upon first one side
of the bit and then the other, appear altogether to msure
success. As soon, however, as the well-known rogue gets
sight of the glare of the water, though his head is in
such a vice that it is out of his power to swerve, and
though his pace is such that it is utterly impossible for
him to stop, yet, as if all his four legs were suddenly
paralysed by fear, the high-bred sinner, all of a sudden,
refuses to lift them, and accordingly, for thirty or forty

58 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

feet, leaving behind a track like that of a railway, they
shde along the wet, rich, loamy turf, until horse, and
gallant, glorious Charlie* dive together, head-foremost,
into the brook! In a few minutes, men in coats of all
colours, trotting up one after another, walk their horses
cautiously to the edge of the chasm, crane over as if to
gaze at the frightened frogs that mhabit it, and after thus
losing more or less of time they can never live to recover,
canter or gallop in different directions in quest either
of a bridge or a ford.

Now, while this serio-comic picture is before the eyes
of our readers, that very small portion of them who have
never been actors in such a scene will no doubt be not
a little astonished to learn that of all fences on the surface
of the globe there is no one that is so easy for a horse to
jump as water.

If the footmarks of a good horse that has galloped over
turf be measured, it will be found that in every stride
his four feet have covered a space of twenty-two feet.
If, in cool blood, he be very gently cantered at a common
sheep-hurdle, without any ditch on one side of it or the
other, it will be found that he has cleared, or rather has
not been able to help clearing, from ten to twelve feet.
In Egypt, an antelope chased by hounds on coming sud-

denly to a little crack or crevice in the ground caused

* The Honourable C, C.

WATER JUMPING. 59
by the heat of the sun, has been observed at a bound
to clear thirty feet, and yet, on approaching a high wall,
the same animal slackens his pace, stops for a second, and
then pops over it. Almost any horse, particularly a young
one, if cantered at a small prickly furze-hedge, would pro-
bably with a little skip rather than a jump clear at least
fourteen feet, which in water would form a “ brook ”
that would stop more than half of the large field of riders
who in Northamptonshire and Leicestershire follow the
Pytchley, Quorn, and Cottesmore hounds. Indeed, it not
unfrequently happens that a ditch of glittering water, not
seven feet broad, over which every hound has hopped
hardly looking at it, will not only stop a number of horses
and riders, but in a few minutes will, to the utter disgust
and astonishment of the latter, contain several of them.

To prevent, however, this unnecessary and apparently
discreditable botheration, all that is necessary is for the
rider to overcome and overrule the instinctive aversion
which his horse, and possibly he himself, have to jump
water.

If, durmg a run with hounds, a young horse, that has
never seen a brook, going a good pace, without receiving
from the hands of his rider any tremulous check, arrives
at, say a low hedge, on the other side of which he sud-
denly sees a wide expanse of water, he is quite sure to
clear it ; and having thus broken the spell, if he be after-

60 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

wards only fairly ridden, he will probably require no
other instruction. If, however, as but too often is the
case, on arriving at water that can be jumped favourably
at a particular place, a young horse is obliged to wait for
his turn, and during that awful pause sees some hunters
refuse, and others splash in and flounder, he naturally
combines together theory and practice, and accordingly,
when called upon, refuses to do what he has always in-
stinctively considered to be wrong; and as, generally
speaking, it is impossible at that moment to force him,
the run is lost.

Under this state of the case, the master. of the culprit
on some fine non-hunting day, armed with spurs and a
cut-whip, should conduct him to any ugly-looking litle
ditch, not above half a dozen feet broad (for it is the
quality and not the quantity of the shining element that
creates his fear), and then, carefully abstaiming to excite
his courage, ride him at it very slowly and timidly, on
purpose to ensure his refusing it, which, of course, he is
quite certain to do. After once again leading him into
this trap, a duel, perfectly harmless to the biped, must
be fought. It may last ten minutes, a quarter, half an
hour, or possibly two hours; but, sooner or later, the
little misunderstanding is certain to end in the rebel all
of a sudden doing willingly, and then repeating five or

six times, what, after all, was nothing at all for him

WATER JUMPING. 6]

to do; and from that moment, if he be only fairly
“handled,” he will remember, whenever he sees water,
the lesson which taught him that it was made on purpose
to be crossed.

To maintain and encourage this doctrine, on coming
in sight of a brook, his courage, by very gentle touches
of the spur, should be excited, while, by pulling harder
and harder at the bridle, his speed inversely should be
slightly diminished, until he arrives within about eighty
yards, when, gradually relaxing the reims, and yet grasp-
ing them so firmly that it is impossible for him to swerve,
his pace should always be made to freshen as he pro-
ceeds, until on arriving at the brink it has attained its
maximum. In short, in riding at a brook, a horse should
be taught to feel that no choice will be given to him to
go in or over, but that over he must go, for want of time
to jump in.

By this simple management a horse will very soon
learn not only to rush at water, but to enjoy the very
sight of it; and as his rider can then trust implicitly
to his honour, we end as we almost began, by stating
that, although there exists no obstruction in a run that
creates so many sorrows as water, there is no fence that
is so easy for a horse to jump, if he will but try ; in fact
on coming to it at the top of his speed, if he will only

hop upwards a few feet, his momentum cannot fail to

62 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

carry him across;. whereas, if in approaching it he
slackens his speed, nine times out of ten he may safely
be booked to be “zn.”

Mopes oF SwimMMineG A Horse.

In England, a hunting man, in deference to the ther-
mometer and for the love of his clothes, usually avoids
forcing his horse to swim. In a warm climate, however,
the operation is attended with no danger or inconvenience
whatever. In riding gradually into deep water the ani-
mal, just before he floats, appears to step rather uneasily,
as if on legs of different lengths; but the instant his feet
take leave of the ground, or if at once he plunges out
of his depth from a bank, as soon as his head comes up
he proceeds as free from jolts of any sort as a balloon in
the air, grunting and groaning, nevertheless, heavily, at
the injustice of having a man’s weight superadded to his
own, the specific gravity of which but little exceeds that
of the element into which he is striving not. to sink,
Instinctively, however, adjusting himself to the most fa-
vourable position, which throws the hind part of his body
about a foot under water, he makes the best of a bad

bargain, and then all the rider has to do is not to destroy

MODES OF SWIMMING A HORSE. 63

the poor animal’s equilibrium by pulling even an ounce
at his bridle. Indeed, in crossing a broad stream, the
most effectual way to prevent over-balancing him, and
also to stop his grunting, is either to slip sideways from
his back, and then, half-swimming, to be dragged along-
side him by a lock of his mane firmly entwined among
the fingers of the right hand, or, as is invariably practised
by the red Indians, to be towed by his tail, in which
case the man floating on the surface of the water is quite
safe from the heels of the horse struggling many feet below
him. By this plan, of course, the water, instead of the
horse, sustains the weight of the man.

JupiIcious Ripe.

In a closely-enclosed country, with slow hounds, a cold
scent, and a fat huntsman, a good jumping nag is what
is mainly required. But to follow fleet hounds across
large grass fields, however excellent may be a horse’s
jumping, however clever at doubles, safe at timber, bold at
water; and though to all of these accomplishments be
added every qualification of hand, heel, head, and heart,
which an experienced rider can possibly possess, ‘the

tottle of the whole” must imevitably amount to “ disap-

64 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

pointment,” unless the animal be able to maintain the
requisite pace. And yet in a run it does not at all follow
that the leading horse is the fastest, that the hindmost is
the slowest, that a heaving flank is an indication of im-
paired lungs, or a still one of good wind. On the contrary,
it is often but too true that the first ought to have
been -the last, and the last the first; so much depends
on the manner in which the different horses have been
ridden.

When a man, pursued by a detachment of cavalry, is
riding to save his own life, or when, at the risk of his
life, he is trying to take away that of a poor little fox,
success in either case depends of course on the pace at
which he can proceed. Now it is a very common mistake
in both the instances we have named to endeavour to
attain the desired object by maintaining, like the seconds-
hand of a clock, an equable rate, whereas, just as a ship
spreads out and unreefs all her canvas when the wind is
light, and before a hurricane scuds away under bare poles,
so should the pace which a rider exacts from his horse
depend on the state or character of the ground he has to
traverse; that is to say, he should hold him together and
save him through deep-ploughed land,—race him across
light, dry turf,—grasping the mane, go slowly up the
last half of an ordinary hill,—spin him very fast indeed

down every declivity,—and in jumping fences endeavour,

USE AND ABUSE OF SPURS. 65

by tranquillizing rather than exciting, to induce him to
take as little out of himself at each, as is possible.

With considerate treatment of this sort, a warrior or
a sportsman may go from a given point to another in a
given time without distressing his horse, while the hot-
faced man who, in attempting to follow him, has been
straming through heavy ground, rushing up steep accli-
vities, restraining in going down hills, and galloping at
every fence, large or small, has not only blown his poor
horse, but as he sits astride his panting body and bleeding
sides, fancies he has done so by going fast ; and accord-
ingly, when he sees afar off the fellow who, on an inferior
animal, has outstripped him, he contemptuously wonders
to himself how such a tortoise could possibly have beaten
such a hare!

-UsE AND ABUSE OF SPURS.

Buxtorff, in describing the horses, chariots, and riders
of the ancient Egyptians, says that the word “ Parash,”
or rider, is derived from the Hebrew root to prick, or
spur.

In horsemanship there is no subject so worthy of consi-
deration, most especially by any one wearing the name of

E

66 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

a gentleman, as the use and the abuse of spurs. In riding
horses that since their birth have been roaming in a state
of nature, that have never tasted corn, and that have
never been excited by men to race against each other, it
would be impossible to imduce them to exhaust in man’s
service the whole of their strength except by punishment ;
for, as they have never obeyed any other will than their
own, so soon as they become tired, they attempt not only
to diminish their speed, but to stop altogether, and as
their bodies have no value whatever, and as their riders
have spurs with rowels an inch long, and no mercy, it
might be supposed that, under such circumstances, an
uncivilized human being would be very apt to inflict
unnecessary punishment on the poor subdued animal be-
neath him. But it is mercifully ordained that it is the
interest as well as the duty of man to husband the powers
of the animals that serve him, and accordingly the wild
rider, when carefully observed, is found to be infinitely
more lenient in the use of his spurs than the comrade
who. ¢alls himself civilized, simply because the former
by his own and his hereditary experience has learned
that the spur should be the dast, and not the first resource
of any rider who desires to be carried a given distance in
the smallest possible amount of time. Accordingly, to
attain this object, the animal on starting, without any
punishment, is restrained by his bridle, and encouraged,

USE AND ABUSE OF SPURS. 67

so long as it is possible to do so, in his zeal to advance :
when that begins to flag, by working the bit in his mouth
he is induced to proceed; when this fails, a very slight
touch of one spur becomes necessary, to be increased only
as required. When excitation on that side is found to
have lost its effect, it is tried very gently on the other;
and thus does the wild rider proceed, until he ends the
distance by coming in violently spurring with both heels
at every step of a gallop, that, from sheer faintness, has
dwindled down to a rate of hardly six miles an hour.

Now a civilized traveller almost invariably commits
not only the unnecessary cruelty but the error of using
his spurs the moment his horse, as he fancies, requires
them; by which means he for a very short time en-
courages, and then so completely discourages his poor
weak animal that he often fails altogether to get to the
end of the distance which his wild comrade, without
the slightest desire to be merciful, has rapidly and scienti-
fically accomplished.

In the management, however, of horses in England,
the conditions of the case are totally different. Tied to
mangers, in which they feast on dry oats, beans, and hay,
no sooner do they leave their stables than the very sight
of creation animates them; every carriage that trots by,
and every rider that passes, excites them. When brought

into condition, and then encouraged to compete against

Bae

68 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

each other, their physical strength, though artificially
raised to the maximum, remains far behind their instine-
tive courage and disposition to go till they die, in almost |
any service in which they may be employed. .

Under these circumstances, the use of the spur is to
enable man to maintain his supremacy, and, whenever
necessary, promptly and efficiently to suppress mutiny
in whatever form it may break out. If a restiff horse
objects to pass a particular post, he must be forced to do
so. If he refuses to jump water, he must, as we have
described, be conquered. But in every case of this
nature a combination of cool determination, plenty of
time, and a little punishment, invariably form a more
permanent cure than a prescription composed only of
the last ingredient; for as anger, in a horse as in a
man, is a short madness, an animal under its influence
is not in so good a state to learn and remember the
lesson of obedience which man is entitled to impart,
as when he has time given to him to observe that the
just sentence to which he is sternly required to submit,
is tempered with mercy.

But if the uses of the spur are few, its abuses are
many. On the race-course, the eagerness and impe-
tuosity of thorough bred horses to contend against each
other are so great, that for a considerable time it is

difficult to prevent them, especially young ones, from

USE AND ABUSE OF SPURS. 69

starting before the signal is given. As soon as they
are ‘ off,” it becomes all that the best riders in the
world can do merely to guide them: to stop them would
be impossible. Occasionally their very limbs “break

2”?

down” in their endeavours to win; and yet, while
they are exerting their utmost powers and strength,—
to the shame of their owners and to the disgrace of
the nation, the riders are allowed, as a sort of show
off, to end the contest by whipping and spurring, which,
nine times out of ten, has the effect of making the noblest
quadruped in creation do what is technically called “ sHuT
up, which means that the ungenerous and ungrateful
punishment and degradation that have been unjustly
inflicted upon him have cowed his gallant spirit, and
have broken an honest heart !

But the ignorance as well as the brutality of unne-
eessarily spurring a hunter is even worse than that just
portrayed. When a young horse that has never seen a
hound, is ridden up, for the first time in his life, not to
a meet, at which the whole pack are to be seen, but
merely to the side of a covert, which, hidden from view,
they are drawing, it might reasonably be conceived that
under such circumstances he could not have an idea of
their past, present, or future proceedings—we mean,
where they had come from, what they were doing, or
what they were going to do. However, no sooner does

70 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

a hound, from laziness, or possibly from feeling that he
has been sufficiently pricked by thorns, briars, and gorse,
creep out for a few seconds before him, than—‘ Angels
and ministers of grace defend us!”—the young horse
pricks up his ears, stares intently at him, holds his
breath, and, with a heart beating so hard that it may
be not only heard but felt by the rider, he breaks out
into a perspiration, which, on the appearance of a few
more hounds, turns into foam as white as soap-suds. On
an old hound—by a single deep tone, instantaneously
certified by the sharp, shrill, resolute voice of the hunts-
man—announcing to creation that the one little animal
which so many bigger ones have been so good as to
visit, is ‘at home,” the young horse paws the ground;
if restrained, evinces a slight disposition to rear; until,
by the time the whole pack—encouraged by the cheery
ery, “Have at him!”—in full chorus have struck up
their band of music, he appears to have become almost
ungovernable, and is evidently outrageously anxious to
do—he knows not what; and accordingly, when a sud-
den shriek, scream, or, as the Irish term it, “screech,”
rather than a holla, from the opposite side of the covert,
briefly announces, as by a telegram, the joyous little
word “ Away!” suiting his action to it, “away” the
young horse often bolts with his mder, just as likely

“‘away” from the hounds as with them. If he follows

USE AND ABUSE OF SPURS, 71

them, infuriated by ardour, which neither he nor his
rider have power to control, he looks at nothing, thinks
of nothing, until at full speed coming to say a stiff fence
he disdains to rise at, a lesson is offered to him, which,
however, he is a great deal too much excited to learn by
heart; and so, before his rider has had time enough to
uncoil himself from his roll, the “young ’un,” without a
thought or disposition to wait for the old gentleman,
leaves him on the ground to think about the hounds;
while with dangling stirrups, reins hanging loose on his
neck, and outstretched neck and tail, he is once again
“up and at ’em!”

Although, however, a horse, when his blood is hot,
does not appear to notice a fall, he thinks a good deal
about it in the stable; and, accordingly, the next time
he comes out, instead of being infuriated, he only evinces
a superabundance of eagerness and excitement to follow
the hounds, which his rider can gradually and often
rapidly succeed in allaying, until the animal may be
honestly warranted as “steady with hounds,” which
means that, although he will follow them over anything
till he drops, he has lived to learn that to enable him
to do so he had better not unnecessarily maim his legs or
tumble himself head over heels. With this mixture of
high courage and discretion he does his best; and, as

affecting evidence of this truth, although, after having

~
bo

THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

been ten or twelve hours out of his stable, with apparent

cheerfulness, he brings his rider home, yet it is the latter

only that then proves to be “as hungry as a hunter,”

>

while the exhausted stomach of the “vrai Amphitryon’
—the real hunter, remains for many hours, and sometimes
days, without the smallest appetite for corn or beans,

If this plain statement be correct, leaving humanity
entirely out of the question, how ignorant and contempti-
ble is that man who is seen during a run not only to be
spurring his horse with both heels whenever he comes to
deep ploughed ground or to the bottom of a steep hill,
but who, just as if he were singing to himself a little
song, or, “for want of thought,” whistling to himself a
favourite tune, throughout the run, continues, as a sort
of idle accompaniment to his music, to dangle more or
less severely the rowel of one spur into the side of a
singed hunter, who all the time is a great deal more
anxious to live with the hounds than he is! But, as
dishonesty is always the worst policy, so does this dis-
creditable conduct produce results opposite to those ex-
pected to be attained; for instead of spurring a_ poor
horse throughout a run hastening his speed, it has very
often put a fatal end to it.

In riding to hounds it occasionally happens that a
resolute, experienced, hunter, knowing what he can break

through, what he must clear, and who has learned to

~
=
—~

USE AND ABUSE OF SPURS.

be cunning enough never to jump farther than is neces-
sary, approaches a fence on the other side of which a
horse and rider have been just observed to disappear in
a brook that has received them, Now, if throughout the
run the rider has never once touched his faithful horse
with spurs, and if on reaching this fence both rowels
suddenly are made to prick him, in an instant he under-
stands the friendly hint, and accordingly, by exerting
much greater powers than he had intended, he saves
himself and his benefactor from a bad fall. In a few
cases of this nature the use of spurs to a sportsman is
. not only excusable, but invaluable. On no account,
however, should they be used to propel a hunter to
the end of a run, but, on the contrary, whenever the
noble animal tells his rider honestly that he is dis-
tressed, he should gratefully be patted on the neck,
pulled up, and walked carefully to the nearest habitation,
where he can rest and obtain a few gulps of warm gruel.
Humanity will not disapprove of this course ; but we also
recommend young sportsmen to adopt it, to maintain
their pleasures and to save their own purses. To ride
a distressed horse at a strong fence, is very. likely to
break a collar-bone, that will require a surgeon and halt
the hunting season to mend. ‘To ride him to death,
entails extortion from the breeches-pocket of a sum of

money—usually of three figures—to replace him.

74 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

How To TREAT A HUNTER IN THE FIELD.

Of the Ten Commandments which man is ordered to
obey, it may truly be said that there is no one which it is
not alike his interest as well as his duty to fulfil, In
every station in life in which it may have pleased God to
call him, he rises by being honest—sinks by being dis-
honest ; gains more by forgiving an injury than by
avenging it; creates friends by kindness—enemies by
unkindness; causes even bad servants to be faithful
by making them happy; and thus, while he is appa-
rently serving others, in reality he is materially benefit- .
ing himself.

By a similar dispensation of Providence, it is the m-
terest as well as the duty of man to be merciful to the
animals created for his use.

The better they are fed, and the more carefully they
are attended to, the more valuable they become. If by
any accident they be either maimed or lamed, money is
gained by giving them rest, lost by forcing them to
continue to move; in short, while sickness is costly so
long as it remains uncured, any neglect which causes a
diseased animal to die, inflicts upon the owner thereof
a fine exactly equal to what would have been gained had
he been saved.

This humane regulation of Nature, which may justly

HOW TO TREAT A HUNTER IN THE FIELD. 79

be entitled “‘a law for the protection of animals from
cruelty,” applies to every hunting stable, large as well as
small, not only in the United Kingdom, but through-
ovt the world. Indeed if it be lucrative to a man to take
care of the sheep, oxen, and other animals he is rearing
merely to eat, it is most especially his interest by every
attention in his power to enable his hunter to carry him
safely ; and yet, on this vital subject, for such it is, there
usually exists in the horseman a want of consideration
which, to any one who will reflect on the subject, must
appear highly reprehensible.

It may readily be admitted that hunting men, generally
speaking, make great efforts first to obtain horses sufh-
ciently strong to carry them, and secondly, to increase
their strength by administering to them plenty of the
very best food, with every thing that science can add,
to improve what is called their condition. But, strange
to say, after having thus made every possible exertion
to create or constitute a power sufficient to carry them,
after having at great expense and infinite trouble amassed
it, they unscientifically exhaust it; and accordingly at
the end of a long day it continually happens that a rider
dislocates a bone, cracks a limb, or loses his life, from
having as it were, like an improvident spendthrift,
simply from want of consideration, expended funds neces-

sary for his existence.

76 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

When Alexander the Great pompously asked Diogenes
what he could do to serve him, the cynic curtly replied,
“Get out of my sunshine.’ In like manner if a heavy
man, patting his hunter on the neck, were to ask
** What can I do to please you?” the dumb animal, if
he could but speak, would just as bluntly reply, “ Get
off my back ;” and yet men, especially heavy ones, will
throughout a long day sit smiling in their saddles,
without reflecting that by doing so they are every
minute and every hour wearying muscles which, after
having carried them brilliantly in one run, are, if a
second fox can be found, to be required to carry them
through another.

A deal board of the length of a horse’s back, with
its ends resting on the bottoms of two chairs, would
break, a stout pole would snap, and a rod of iron would
bend, under the feet of a heavy man jumping upon
them only for a few minutes; and yet the same heavy
man who in the same short period would become dead
tired of carrying even his only child, neglects to consider
the mechanical effects caused by the mere pressure (to
say nothing of the concussion produced by jumping) for
seven or eight hours of fourteen, sixteen, or eighteen
stone on a horse’s back, which is not a solid bone, but
one scotched or sawn by Nature into a decreasing series

of twenty-nine vertebra (namely, dorsal, 18; lumbar, 6;

HOW TO TREAT A HUNTER IN THE FIELD. 77

sacral, 5), averaging less than two inches in length and
breadth.

The wearying effects which the infliction of weight
produces on the muscular powers of a horse may be
practically demonstrated as follows:

In crossing a particular region in the plains of South
America, in which there are literally no inhabitants to
assist in catching the horses, it is necessary for the
attendant on the traveller to select and drive a troop
of them, which continue to gallop before him in high
spirits, while the animal beneath him, unaccustomed to
extra weight, becomes weaker and fainter, until with
bleeding sides, drooping head, and panting flanks, he
is left standing by himself on the plain completely
exhausted.

No less than five times is the traveller obliged to repeat
the operation of remounting what is called, what is con-
sidered, and what really is “‘a fresh horse,” which in
his turn, solely by his rider’s wezght, becomes tired,
without metaphor, almost ‘to death,” in the presence of
the unmounted horses, who, with nothing to carry but
their own carcases, are still showing no signs whatever
of distress.*

Now although a horse highly fed and in good wind

* The ancient Greeks practised riding two or three horses tied together:
the horseman vaulting from the tired to the fresh one.

78 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

and condition has greater muscular power than those in
the state of nature just described, it is undeniable that
the difference between carrying weight and no weight
must produce in each of them similar results; that is
to say, those muscles which are oppressed suffer by the
amount of weight inflicted upon them, multiplied by the
time they are subjected to it, and agai negatively enjoy
the periods of rest, be they ever so short, during which
they are relieved from it.

And yet, although every body learns by daily experi-
ence that the imposition of weight tires his own muscles,
that the abstraction of weight instantly relieves them ;
and although it is a known fact that when two thorough-
bred horses are racing together, an addition of only
seven pounds weight will cause the bearer of it to be
“ distanced,” yet men of rank, intelligence, wealth, and
generous feelings, are, at the outside of a covert which
the hounds are drawing, to be constantly seen late in the
day with cigars in their mouths, conversing and occa-
sionally even extolling to each other the qualifica-
tions of the noble animals on whose backs they have
been thoughtlessly sitting for six or eight hours, as
hard as a hen upon a nest full of eggs just about to
hatch.

In the army when a soldier who has committed an

offence is sentenced to crawl for several hours up and

HOW TO TREAT A HUNTER IN THE FIELD. 79

down a parade “in heavy marching order,” it is justly
called “ punishment drill.”

In like manner, if an unruly horse were to be sentenced
merely to stand in his stable for ten hours with a sack of
heavy oats, weighing (at forty-two pounds the bushel)
exactly twelve stone, the punishment or pain his muscles
would undergo in bearing such a weight for so long a
time would be so severe that by almost everybody it
would be termed “cruel.” But if, instead of being
quiescent, the sack of oats could by mechanical contriy-
ances be continually lifted up, and then by a series of
heavy blows dropped down upon vertebre which have
nothing but muscles to support them, the punishment
would be condemned as excruciating; and yet this
excruciating punishment is quite unnecessarily inflicted
upon hunters by a lot of good-humoured heavy men,
simply from neglecting to reflect that if they would,
only even for a minute or two, occasionally unload their
saddles, to walk a little, stand still a little, or,. while the
hounds are drawing, sit placidly upon the stile or gate
that is often close beside them, they would not only
perform an act of mercy, but they would impart or
rather restore strength, tone, and activity to muscles
which, if vigorous, can carry them safely, but which, if
exhausted, must inevitably fail when tested by a severe
run.

80 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

In deference and in reference to this law of Nature, it
may truly be added that the proprietor of a valuable
stud of horses would gain a great deal of money as
well as ensure safety if he would select and set apart,
say two of them for his groom te ride to covert, leading
by his side, with an empty saddle, the horse that is to
hunt; by which arrangement the cheap hack, which
from the covert-side has only to return to his stable,
-would carry, and the costly hunter which is to endure
the toil of a long day would for two, three, and occa-
sionally four hours be relieved from the weight of about
a sack of oats, to say nothing of but too often a pair of
hard and heavy hands; and thus the wealthy rider, on
descending from the box of his four-in-hand drag, would,
at a saving rather than an expenditure of money, have
secured for himself the benefit of mounting a fresh
hunter, instead of one more or less tired by what in our

statistical returns are designated “ preventible causes.”

How To BRING A HUNTER HOME.

Of the long list of hunters annually killed by what
is called “‘a severe day,” about one-third may be said
to have died from bad riding, and two-thirds by impro-
per treatment after the run was over.

HOW TO BRING A HUNTER HOME. 81

Supposing, as is often the case, that the majority of
the horses that are “in at the death” have been out
of their stables from seven to eight hours, that they have
been conspicuous in two or three runs, and that, with the
lower edge of the sun nearly touching the horizon, they
have to travel from fifteen to twenty miles to their
stables, a question of vital importance has to be deter-
mined, namely, whether they are to perform that exer-
tion in the way most agreeable to their riders, or most
advantageous to themselves.

In the settlement of this problem the poor horses have,
of course, neither voice nor vote. On their behalf, there-
fore, we will endeavour to contrast the attentions that
ought to be bestowed upon them, with the inconsiderate
treatment to which they are usually subjected.

Jn a severe day’s work a hunter suffers from a com-
bimation of three causes: violent muscular exertion, an
overexcitement of the circulation of the blood, and debi-
lity of his whole system caused by abstinence from food.

Of these causes, the latter produces by far the worst
results ; for although to the muscles may be given rest,
and to the circulation repose, the stomach of a horse is
so small and, im comparison to his noble spirit, so
delicate, that on becoming empty and exhausted it is
in an unfit state to digest food, and accordingly is bene-
ficently deprived by Nature of appetite to receive it.

F

82 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

Now, under all these circumstances, it is evident that
the most humane, and, taking the money value of the
poor animal into consideration, the most economical course
which the rider can pursue is as follows :

As soon as the day’s sport is over, the hunter should
be led, or ridden, at a walk for about a mile to some
stable—it little matters whether it be good, bad, or
indifferent—or strawyard, where he can stand for a
minute or two.

When the object for which he has been taken there
has been accomplished, about a third of a pail of gruel,
or lukewarm water, with a mouthful or two of hay,
should be given to him. To prevent his being chilled,
the instant he has swallowed it he should be mounted ;
and whatever be the distance he has to accomplish, he
should then be ridden homewards at a constant steady
pace of about seven miles an hour.

After a staghunt in which the hunter may have been
galloping principally on roads, soft ground (if it be not
deep) should be selected ; but when, as is usually the case
in fox hunting, the muscles have, during the greater part
of the day, been struggling in heavy soil, he should be
permitted to travel, as he invariably tries to do, on the
hard road.

As they proceed together, if the rider will dismount
for a few minutes to lead his horse down or up any

HOW TO BRING A HUNTER HOME. 83

very steep hill, both animals will be greatly relieved.
With this exception, however, there should be no altera-
tion of pace or stoppage of any sort or kind,

If, at the quiet rate described, the hunter begins to
blunder, it will be proper that he should be what is
termed ‘“‘wakened” by a word of remonstrance, or, if
that prove insufficient, by a slight touch of the spur.
But if, as is usual, the noble animal travels safely,
the duller he is encouraged to go, the greater will be
the relief to that overexcitement of the circulation of
his blood, and that violent palpitation of his heart, from
which he has suffered.

By this treatment a hunter in good condition can, m
the shortest possible time, be brought home not only
cool in body and tranquil in mind, but with hmbs less
wearied than when they took leave of the hounds.

On entering his stable, in the manger of which he
should find, ready to welcome him, a handful or two
of picked sweet hay, his bridle should be taken off,
his girths unloosened, and then, before his body is
touched, all his four legs, after being cleared only of
rough dirt, should, without a moment’s delay, be swathed
from the knees and hocks to the hoofs by rough bandages
of coarse common drugget, which maintain in the
extremities that healthy circulation which, from the
minuteness of their veins, is prone, after great exhaus-

F 2

84 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

tion, to stagnate, producing (especially when caused by
the ignorant custom of washing the legs) disorganisation
and disease throughout the whole system, as the following
fact will exemplify.

Several seasons ago almost every hunter in Leicester-
shire and Northamptonshire was afflicted by a combina-
tion of lumps, bumps, swelled legs, and cracked heels,
caused by the extraordinary wetness of the ground, and
the consequent ablutions of the legs. After the veteri-
nary surgeons had in vain nearly exhausted their phar-
macopeeia, the oldest and most experienced among them
directed that on no account should horses’ legs, after
hunting, be washed; and wherever this plain, sensible
prescription was followed, all the symptoms just described
rapidly subsided.

If the hunter, as is now-a-days almost invariably the
case, has been singed, the less he is excited and _tor-
mented by cleaning (the main object of which, with
many strappers, seems to be to make the poor animal
crouch his back, bite his manger, and violently work all
his legs as if they were on a tread-mill) the better.

At the expiration of about an hour white flannel
bandages should, however, be substituted for the coarse
ones, under which the dirt will then be found to
crumble away like warm sand.

If his ears (the opposite extremities or antipodes of —

HOW TO BRING A HUNTER HOME. 85

his legs) have become cold, circulation therein should be
restored by the groom quietly rubbing them with a
cloth; and as soon as they are dry, and the animal
what is called “comfortable,” a pailful of warm gruel
given to him at intervals, a bran mash, a rackful of hay,
a clean stall, some chilled water, and a fresh bed, will do
all that is possible to procure for him a night’s rest,
free from fever; and this vital object having been
accomplished, the next day he may receive without
injury, and indeed with great benefit, his usual allow
ance of the best oats and beans.

Now, in contrast to the mode of treatment just de-
seribed, we will endeavour to offer to our readers a
similar sketch of that which, especially by what are

’

termed “‘fast men” (possibly because ‘‘lucus 4 non
lucendo” they make it a rule never to “fast” or abstain
from any thing they desire to do), is usually adopted.
After the run is over, while one sturdy hound that all
the rest seem to be afraid of is stealing straight away
with the poor fox’s head, and while another at his
utmost speed, chased by several, is meandering through
the pack with a lump of unsavoury, very dirty fur in
his mouth, groups of riders, some sitting astride, some
like pretty ladies with a right leg hanging over the
saddle’s pommel, some with cambric handkerchiefs mop-

ping moist heads and red faces, and some adjusting

86 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER,

mustachios, are to be seen reciting to each other inci-
dents aqueous, terrestrial, and amphibious, of the run.
Here and there, one of the most handsome, as he talks,
leans forward for a moment to pat the neck of his—
thorough bred animal in grateful acknowledgment of
the particular feat he is describing.

In what is considered by all to be hardly a quarter of
an hour, (for when men sit conversing about themselves,
they little know how fast old father Time gallops), this
joyous conversazione ends by the talkers, after giving to
each other here and there a farewell nod, radiating in
masses along roads, or across a fence or two, to gain the
road that leads to their respective homes; but as, by
this time, in almost every mouth a newly-lighted cigar
happens to be gleaming, they resume their talk as they
walk towards an object described at the back of the head
of almost every one, in the humane words “gruel for
my horse,” to be obtained, not exactly at the first farm,
but at the first great town, be it even half a dozen or so,
miles off.

On reaching the best hotel, at which there is seldom
hot water enough ready for all the cavalcade, the horses
are handed over to that lot of idle attendants who,
some out of the stable and some from the bar, greedily
rush forward to grasp their bridles. “GRUEL” is most
kindly ordered for them all; but as it is voted that

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HOW TO BRING A HUNTER HOME. 87

there is no great necessity to see them drink it, the
landlord’s smiling invitation is accepted, and in a few
minutes, by one of those extraordinary contingencies that
nobody could have anticipated, each gentleman rider is
to be seen, in high glee and good-humour, sipping
from a tumbler (which for some quaint reason or other
happens to contain a silver spoon) something that is
evidently very wet and very warm. Alas! little
thinking that his poor faithful horse, whose perform-
ances he had so lately been describing, with cold clammy
ears is shivering, chilled by having just drank too freely
of “a summut,” without a spoon in it, that was wet
and cold.

On mounting, and clattering out of the paved yard of
the hotel, most of the riders fancy they are all the better
—many of their horses feel that they are all the worse
for the half hour’s rest and ‘ gruelling” that was ordered
for them, But although the quadrupeds leave behind
them the fatal pail, the silver spoon has apparently
accompanied the bipeds, who, like the favoured children
of Fortune, are, externally as well as internally, under
the influence of ardent spirits.

All thoroughly happy, they think neither of» their
horses nor their homes; but, according to the subject of
their conversation, and the state of their cigars, they

walk, trot, sometimes very slow, and sometimes very

88 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

fast, until, on coming to a portion of the road bounded
by grass, although their poor horses have had an over-
dose of both excitement and of heavy ground, they touch
them with their spurs, to re-enjoy, for a short distance,
a hand-gallop.

In short, travelling at what may either be described
as “every pace,” or “no paceat all,” they unnecessarily
excite and fatigue their horses; and yet, after all, though
undoubtedly ‘fast men,” they are often considerably
more than an hour longer in getting home than if they
had proceeded at a slow, quiet, steady, but unceasing
rate.

On reaching this goal the poor horse who, from eight
o'clock in the morning, has been working on an empty
stomach, is led by his bridle to his stable. The rich
man prepares himself for his dinner. Since he break-
fasted, at a quarter before nine in the morning, he has, at
a low average, enjoyed the slight intoxication of very
nearly a cigar per hour, besides certam refreshments
which he brought out with him, and the few crumbs of
comfort at the hotel at which he stopped to give “ gruel ”
to his horse.

Nevertheless, on the principle that “by-gones are
by-gones,” after his ablutions, exactly as if he had been
fasting, he sits down to a capital meal, joyous conversa-

tion, luscious wine. In due time he “joins the ladies,”

awe Ne ss SS. Q°>:.K.\..l\—~X3lOv =,"

HOW TO BRING A HUNTER HOME. 89

and as, with rosy cheeks, and with a cup of fragrant
coffee in his hand, he stands in patent-leather boots,
whispering soft nonsense, the butler, white in waistcoat
and in tie, most respectfully interrupts it to inform his
Lordship that “Mr. Willo’thewhisp ” has just sent up a
strapper from the stable to say that “ Harkaway” ‘has
took to shaking, and seems very queer indeed all over!”
and accordingly, on the evening of the next day, the poor
high-bred animal, with protruding tongue, glacy eyes
dishonoured by a few particles of dust, hollow flank, and
outstretched limbs, lies in his stall, stiff and stark, a
victim to the unintentional maltreatment and thoughtless

mismanagement of his noble master.

How To DRESS FoR HUNTING.

As in our Nursery Rhymes it is truly stated that—
““ Whatever brawls disturb the streets, there should be peace at home,”

so it might be expected that, however violently men may
differ among each other as to the shape, cut, or fashion
of their clothes, they would at all events, like a brood of
chickens nestling under their parent hen, concur together
in selecting that description of warmth which is congenial,

and im avoiding every substance uncongenial to their

90 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

nature. And yet how true and how strange it is to say
that of the best educated, most scientific, most itelli-
gent, and wealthiest classes in England, more than three-
quarters live and suffer, wither and decay, in clothing
as uncongenial to their nature as a covering of slate, in
substitution of their mother, would be to a nest of young
birds !

In a cold, wet, variable climate like England, where,
especially in winter, extra clothing to that granted to
man by nature is absolutely required, the sensible and
self evident course for the Lord of Creation to pursue
would be to select from the living creatures around
him, and appropriate, the fur, feathers, wool, or hair that
warm them.

And yet, instead of thus cherishing blood by what
has especially been created by Nature to warm blood,
we repair to the cold ground for succour! From its
produce we pick cotton and hemp, nourished by a cir-
culation of sap; in short, from a mixture of perversity
and ignorance which appear to be as inexcusable as
they are unaccountable, we run for protection to the
wrong kingdom, to commit the unnatural error of clothing
ourselves as vegetables stead of as animals !

If a man has had nothing to do in this world but,
with a crown on his head and with his knees closed, to

sit very still on a throne,—with a coronet balanced on

HOW TO DRESS FOR HUNTING. 91

his head, to walk very gently from one carpeted room to
another,—or in very tight boots to stand gaping at his
fellow creatures as, at different rates, they pass in pro-
cession before his club window, he may live, die, and
be screwed up in his coffin without ever discovering
the mistake he has committed; but, on the other hand,
if he has only for a few years been exposed to hard
work, and even without severe labour to the vicissitudes
of climate, he very soon finds out that he is suffering
from the uncongenial clothing in which he has been
existing. Indeed, our soldiers and sailors on active
service, whether within the tropics or the polar regions ;
our labourers, especially those who work underground in
mines; in fact all classes of people, sooner or later, are
not only by medical men admonished, but by the aches
and pains of Caliban, with all the ills which flesh is
heir to when it has been suddenly chilled, are forced
to discard vegetable covering, in order to nestle, for the
remainder of their lives, in woollen clothing next to
their skin; and when a man has lived to make this
important discovery, he keenly feels that although his
friend and neighbour would be grievously out of fashion
were he to walk about the world with his cotton
drawers over his woollen trousers, and with his Ivish-
linen shirt outside his coat, yet that it would be less

imsane and infinitely more reasonable for him to do so

92 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

than to exist, as is still the general custom of the com-
munity, in vegetable garments, covered on the outside
with woollen clothing. In fact, it is undeniable that a
sinner doing penance in a hair shirt enjoys better health
than a saint in a lawn one.

For ordinary work only ordinary protection may be
required; but as in hunting the rider is exposed to
every variety of weather, good, bad, and indifferent,—to
sunshine, cold, wind, rain, sleet, and snow,—to a heating
gallop, with a plunge into a brook, ending by a chilling
detention at every fresh covert which the hounds are
drawing, it must be obvious that to fortify himself against
all these alternations, he requires not merely the dress
superficially prescribed, namely, a scarlet coat, leather
breeches, top boots, and a hat or a hunting cap, but
beneath this gaudy surface the most wholesome descrip-
tion of underclothing that science can devise.

Now in the hunting field, experience, after a desperate
struggle, has at last demonstrated the advantages of wool ;
and, accordingly, for some years it has been, and is, the
habit and the fashion of most men, especially “the fast
ones,” entirely to discard linen, and in lieu thereof to
ride in flannel shirts—pink, red, crimson, or many coloured
—and in drawers drawn either from the back of a lamb
or a sheep. The coats are lined throughout backs and

sleeves with flannel; and as the waistcoats have also

HOW TO DRESS FOR HUNTING. 93

sleeves of the same material, the rider of the present day
is not only wholesomely warmed, but his clothing, from
being divided into many layers, is capable of keeping
out a moderate shower of several hours’ duration.

To provide, however, against a soaking day, it is usual
to put on woollen drawers of extra thickness; but as it
is impossible to foretell how long it will rain—for when
it pours early in the morning, it not unusually becomes
bright at eleven, and vice versa—this precaution often
proves not only unnecessary, but throughout the whole day
a very unpleasant incumbrance, which, after all, fortifies a
great deal more of the propria persona than is required.

A better plan, or “‘ dodge,” therefore, when the morning
threatens to turn into a drenching day, is to place over
the thin drawers on the surface only of each thigh,
(which, from its position in riding, and from the dripping
from the brim of the hat, invariably becomes wet, while
all the rest of the drawers remain dry), a piece of stout
serge or saddler’s flannel, which will keep out the rain
for a long time ; which, when wet, can in a moment be
drawn out, dried at any little inn, farm, or cottage fire,
and then replaced; and which, if, from the cessation of
the rain, it be not needed, instead of heating the owner,
ean be rolled up and transferred into one of his coat
pockets, to remain there like a letter addressed Poste
restante, ‘till called for.”

94 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

Of boots there are just two sorts: those that do protect
the mechanism of the knee, and those that don’t protect
it. Of these, the latter are the most fashionable. How-
ever, leaving the rider to make his choice, it need only
be observed that if the soles are broad, the feet within
them will be warm; and, if narrow, cold; simply from
the circulation of the blood having, by pressure, become
impeded,

Chilblains are often the result, though more usually
caused by the mistaken luxury, as it is called, of putting
the feet when chilled by hunting into warm instead of
into cold water, the temperature of which, if possible,
should be lowered in proportion to the coldness of the
feet: indeed, whenever flesh is frost-bitten, the well-
known practical remedy is snow; while on the other
hand an approach to fire instantly produces mortification.

And now for a very few words respecting the upper,
or garret-story of the rider.

In Leicestershire, many years ago, it was, and in Surrey
it still is, the fashion for “ fast men” to ride in the hunting
caps worn by all huntsmen and whippers in.

They were invented to protect the head, whereas they
have very properly been discarded in the shires because
they have proved to be its enemy, or rather the enemy
of the rider’s neck, which is liable, on a very slight
fall, as was lately the case with poor Lord Waterford,

HOW TO DRESS FOR HUNTING. 95

to be broken, literally on account of the protection given
to the head by the cap, which, instead of collapsing like
the buffer of a railway carriage, as a hat does when it
is crushed by a fall, transfers to the neck the whole con-
cussion of the blow.

In all hunting hats a small hole should be made, either
in the crown or sides, to admit fresh air, and to allow
the steam from a hot head to escape, instead of heating
the brain and injuring the hair.

As regards the latter, for the sake not only of our
masculine, but of our feminine readers (one of whose
innumerable natural ornaments is their hair), we will
venture to point out another mistake which is generally
committed by our seeking assistance from the manimate
instead of the animate portion of creation.

We all know that throughout our country, and indeed —
throughout the world, there are exposed for sale two
descriptions of oil; and as one of them is compressed
from vegetables, and the other obtained from animals,
without reflecting for a moment, it ought surely, at once,
to occur to everybody, that as all things were created
good, “according to their kind,” vegetable oil would not
prove to be “‘ good” for animal substances; and accord-
ingly, every coachman and stable-man concur in testi-
fying, on their practical experience, that while animal
oil mollifies and preserves all descriptions of bridles

96 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

and harness, vegetable oil burns and destroys any leather
it is applied to, disfiguring as well as impairing it by
deep cracks, crossing each other like network (declared
in Johnson’s Dictionary to mean “anything reticulated or
decussated at equal distances, with interstices between
the intersections”’).

But just as the texture of linen is infinitely finer and
more beautiful than that of broadcloth or flannel, so is
vegetable oil clearer and more inodorous than animal
oil, for which reasons the former, instead of the latter,
is almost invariably used by perfumers in concocting
what is sold by them as “hair oil,” which, when extracted
from almonds, olives, or any other vegetable substance,
is, although highly scented, exactly as injurious to hair
as it would be to harness; and thus it is lamentable to
observe young people blooming around us in all directions
becoming prematurely bald-headed, and older ones more
or less rheumatic, dyspeptic, &c., from having by their
own acts and deeds, namely, by rubbing their heads and
clothing their bodies with the wrong substances, foolishly
deserted the animal kingdom to which they belong, to go
over to an alien, that, for the purposes for which they seek
its protection, is really their enemy.

HOW TO EAT AND DRINK FOR HUNTING. 97

How To Eat AND DRINK For HUNTING.

When a young man “too tall for school,” that is to
say, who has just concluded his studies, is on the point
of what is called embarking in life, it would be well for
him if he would but pause for a few moments, on the
brink of his earthly career, to determine, not how he
can avoid, but on the contrary, which, out of the many
alluring pleasures standing im array before him, will
afford him, when selected, the greatest and most enduring
enjoyments.

Now these pleasures, sensual, literary, and religious,
may be compared to the different qualifications in a
large stud of horses, which, as we all know, may be
divided into three classes, namely—

1. Those that will carry their rider brilliantly for a
short time, and then, gradually failing, bring him early
m the day to what, m the hunting field, is termed
* orief.”

2. Those that will carry him well through three quarters

of a good run, and then give in.

3. Those which will not only carry him through any
run, however severe it may be, but end a happy day by

bringing him gloriously to his long home.

98 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

If this classification of the pleasures of this world be
correct, there can exist no doubt that it is the imterest
of every young person to select from them those which,
in intensity, increase instead of diminish the longer they
are enjoyed, and which in duration are eternal, instead
of being shorter than life.

Yet, supposing this wise selection to be made, it does

not follow, because one set of pleasures rank infinitely

higher than others, that the former should be exclusively”

pursued, and the latter wholly abandoned.

On the contrary, as rest restores the strength of the
body after hard labour, so do pleasures of a lower order,
if judiciously administered, recruit the exhaustion caused
by mental exertion.

Now, of all sensual pleasures, those of eating and
drinking produce, as we either use or abuse them, the
most opposite results.

When a young man commences his career, the engine
which is to propel him throughout his life, is, his
stomach.

If he preserves it, it will in return render him good
service. If he inconsiderately wears it out, whatever
abilities he may possess become to him of no avail.
Indeed the Spanish proverb truly says that in man’s
progress in the army, navy, law, church, or state, in short

in every profession, “it is the belly that lifts the feet.”

f

HOW TO EAT AND DRINK FOR HUNTING. 99

But the same remark is applicable, not only to every
profession, but to all our amusements and recreations.
A young horseman, therefore, who wishes to enjoy the
greatest possible amount of hunting, should ensure it by
taking the greatest possible care, not of his neck—not
even of his life, for, as has been shown, the less he
interferes with his horse in jumping, the safer he will
go—but of his stomach, or in other words, of his health.
To attain this object he has no penance whatever to
perform, for, as he is undergoing strong exercise, his
‘system requires, is entitled to, and ought to be allowed
ample support, say a capital breakfast; a crust of sweet
bread in the middle of the day; and after hunting is
over, a glass of pure cold water to bring him home to
a good, wholesome dinner, with three or four glasses of
super-excellent wine. Now if a young rider were to
tesolve to rough it on, or as many of his companions
would call it, to “stint himself” to, the diet above
described, he would sit down to every meal with an
appetite that nothing but healthy hunger can create;
and thus, even from the sensual gratification of eating
and drinking, he would derive the maximum of enjoy-
ment, which would not only on the following day exhi-
larate his spirits, and strengthen his body, but which,
by invigorating his nerves as well as his stomach, would

maintain for him, to old age, the best possible recreation

100 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

to his intellectual’ occupations, the manly exercise of
hunting.

Instead, however, of subsisting on the healthy diet _
just described, the ordinary practice of many hunting
men is to add to what may be called ‘“ Nature’s pre-
scription for the enjoyment of good health” the following
ingredients :—

1. After breakfast, before mounting the spiry covert
hack—a cigar.

2. On arriving at a hand-gallop at the meet; again

on reaching the covert—a cigar.

3. At two o'clock some cold grouse, a long suck
from a flat flask full of sherry, or brandy and water,
and—a cigar.

4. After the run, another suck at the flat flask—a_
cigar. Refreshment at the nearest inn, for man and_

horse, and—a cigar.
5. While riding home, per hour—a cigar.

6. On reaching home, a heavy dinner, a superstratum
of wine, an astronomical peep at the new moon, and—

a cigar.

For a short time, a stout system is exhilarated, and a

strong stomach may be invigorated, by a series of gifts

HOW TO EAT AND DRINK FOR HUNTING. 101

so munificently bestowed upon them by the right hand
of their lord and master.

But as Death eventually levels all distinctions, so do
a constant slight intoxication produced by tobacco, vinous
and spirituous liquors, with a superabundance of rich
food, sooner or later first weaken the stomach, and then
gradually debilitate the system, of the strong man as well
as of the puny one.

The first symptom of premature decay is announced by
the nerves, which, to the astonishment of the young rider,
sometimes fail so rapidly, that while the whole of the
rest of his system appears to him and to everybody to
be as blooming and as vigorous as ever, he is compelled,
under the best excuse he can invent, to sell his stud,
and abandon for the rest of his life the favourite recreation
he has himself destroyed.

Again, although the delicate network of the nervous
system may continue uninjured, the stomach, from being
continually over-excited, overwhelmed, and over-burdened
by a heavy, conglomerated mixture which it has not
power to digest, begins to become unable to execute, not
its natural functions, but the unnatural amount of work
it is called upon to perform. The blood becomes impure,
secretions are vitiated, the liver gets disordered, the
oppressed lungs are ready for inflammation, the brain is

heated, the pulse irregular ; in fact, the whole mechanism

102 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

of the system becomes so deranged that the rider
eventually experiences, to his vast regret, that he enjoys
rest more than exercise, and accordingly in due, or
rather in undue time, he retires from his saddle to an
elbow chair.

But he is hardly seated therem when the sudden
change in his habits, from an active to a sedentary life,

rapidly produces the usual effects. Did his big toe, un-

known to him, receive yesterday any little blow? Can —

he have sprained it in his sleep? What can possibly
have swelled it so? How shiny and scarlet it looks!
How burning hot it is getting! Gracious heavens, what
a twitch that was!! something must be mm it. That
something, oh! seems to be a red-hot file in the hands
of a demon who is rasping a hole in the bone. Ah!
Ai! oOOOH!!

But this little mischievous demon is only one of a
legion ; for besides the eating complaint, commonly called
gout, diseases, all more or less painful, produced by in-
temperate habits, or, in other words, by giving to the
poor willing stomach more food and liquor than it could
digest, are so innumerable, that it would require, and
does require, a library of books to describe them, with
regiments of medicine-men to prescribe for them—in
vain.

‘India, my boy,” said an Irishman to a friend on his

HOW TO EAT AND DRINK FOR HUNTING. 103

arrival at Calcutta, “1s jist the finest climate under the
sun. But a lot of young fellows come out here, and
they dhrink and they ate, and they ate and they dhrink,
and they die. And thin, they write home to their
friends a pack o’ lies, and: say, it’s the climate as has
killed 7em !”

But to return to the saddle. Instead of preaching from
it abstinence to hunting-men, they ought, on the contrary,
to be urged to enjoy the greatest amount of gratification
that can possibly be derived from eating and drinking,
not for a single day, week, month, or year, but through-
out their whole lives.

To enable themselves, however, to ascertain this
amount, it is necessary for them to put into a pair of
scales, to be accurately weighed against each other, the
enjoyments of temperance, and the sorrows and anguish
of intemperance. If, on doing so, they ascertain that
the balance is in favour of eating, drinking, and tobacco-
smoking ad libitum, they will act wisely in indulging in
all three to the utmost possible extent. If, on the con-
trary, they ascertain that some of these pleasures last
only for a few seconds, some for a few minutes, and none
for more than one or two hours, while, on the other
hand, the afflictions caused by intemperance endure for
months and years;—that “ felo-de-se” they put an end
to hunting, spoil cricket, stop shooting, and last, but

104 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

not least, ruin not only bodily but intellectual enjoy-

ments, they will act wisely by resolving to befriend —

themselves as they befriend their horses, namely, by
prescribing for all and each an ample quantity of food of
the very best description, and, if more be required by a

greedy stomach—the muzzle.

DIFFERENCE BETWEEN LEICESTERSHIRE AND SURREY
HUNTING.

When a stranger comes to hunt in “the shires” he is

surprised, and is usually a little alarmed, at the size of .

the fences, until he learns, by experience, how very easily
they are crossed; for although almost all non-hunting
people, especially ladies, fancy that it must be dangerous
to encounter a large fence, and easy to pass over a small
one, yet in practice the reverse, within moderate bounds,
may be said to be the truth: indeed, it is notorious that
of the bad accidents that happen in the hunting-field, at
least three-fourths occur either at small impediments or
at no impediment at all. For instance, perhaps the very
worst fall a rider can get is by his horse, at full speed,
stepping on the edge of a little rabbit-hole; next comes
that occasioned by one of his fore feet in his gallop

dropping into a deep drain about six inches broad; next

LEICESTERSHIRE AND SURREY HUNTING. 105

to that by his coming to a ditch too narrow to attract
his observation, or to a stiff hedge so low that he dis-
dains to rise at it; and at this rate danger diminishes,
until the rider arrives at what may be termed the point
of greatest safety, namely, a moderately high fence
through which (as in the county first mentioned) a
horse can at a glimpse see on the other side a broad
and deep ditch or small brook.

A hunter coming fast and cheerfully at a fence of this
description, no sooner is observed to prick his ears, than
in self-defence he is sure to try, and if he tries he is
not only sure, but by his momentum he cannot help to
clear it.

The great ease with which large fences can be crossed
produces the following rather curious result, namely, that
although the horses ridden after hounds in Leicestershire,
Northamptonshire, and Lincolnshire are infinitely superior
to those ridden in Surrey, yet the small, blind, cramped,
awkward, and consequently difficult, fences of the latter
county require, and therefore create, better horsemen
than those who, in “ the shires,” as joyously as swallows
in summer, are to be seen in leafless November skimming
together across grass fields separated by broad fences.

And it is for this reason, that while a horseman from
the small, difficult fences, if well mounted, has always been

found able to go and clear the broad, easier ones, the very

106 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

best riders from the region of the latter, whenever for
the first time they try to get across the former, must,
until they have been sufliciently educated, either submit
to follow experienced leaders or—break their necks.

But although of valour discretion has been declared
to be the better part, yet in hunting a constant necessity
to “look before you leap” is a virtue so exceedingly
painful to practise, that on the principle that -‘‘ where
ignorance is bliss ’tis folly to be wise,” the imperfect
rider, in a good country, may rest well satisfied that he
has infinitely more enjoyment than is allotted to the

superior horseman in a bad one.

THE STABLE.

A comparison between the true Briton’s love for his
home, and that of a horse for his stable, elicits con-
flicting facts which are very remarkable; for although
in theory and in law the house of the former is said
to be “his castle,” and although the latter is confined
to his stable by head-collars, pillar-reins, rack-chains,
halter-ropes, yet the hard, honest fact is, that the owner
of the castle often seizes every possible opportunity to
escape from it, while the inhabitant of the stable, if

left to his own accord, would never leave it.

THE STABLE. 107

It sounds very beautiful for the Englishman to sing—
‘¢ Be it ever so humble, there ’s no place like home ;”

for the Scotch poet to write—

**Oh Caledonia stern and wild,
Meet nurse for a poetic child ;”

and for his brother Paddy to exclaim—

*¢ Sweetest isle of the ocean,
Erin mayourneen, Erin go Bragh :”
yet it is impossible to deny that the song, the poetry,
and the exclamation are not in unison with the fact
that the songster, the poet, and the exclaimer are con-
stantly caught in the fact of having stolen away from
the very ‘“‘home,” the very “nurse,” and the very
“isle” they so ardently profess to love: indeed, in proof
of the alibi, every region of the globe, healthy or
unhealthy, and especially every town, city, and bathing-
place in Europe, could not only declare on affidavit
that its localities, high-roads, bye-roads, paths, and streets,
are, especially in summer time or flea-season, to be seen
crawling alive with deserters from British homes, but
to the questions, Who is waving that flag in the balloon
high above our heads?—Who is standing in solitary
triumph on the summit of that white capped mountain ?
—Who is it that has just descended from human sight

to the bottom of the sea in a diving-bell? nine times

108 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

out of ten it might truly be answered “A Briton,”
who, im apparent desperation, has sought refuge in the
clouds, in the region of eternal snow, or in the briny deep,
im order to get away from his “dulce domum,” and from
“the right little, tight little island” that contains it.

In almost every instance the home he has deserted is,
comparatively speaking, replete with luxury and com-
fort; and yet, from stuffed sofas, easy chairs, feather
beds, soft mattresses, warm fires, good carpets, a well- —
stocked library, cellar, larder, and dairy, flower and fruit
gardens, carriages on buoyant springs, a stud of horses,
faithful servants, and friendly neighbours, he has fled,
with, in one pocket, a purse which, wherever he stops,
by everybody is to be plundered; and in the other a
passport, not to happiness, but to every description of
what he has been educated to consider as a discomfort,
simply because, instead of being homesick, he has become
sick, almost unto death, of his “ home.”

Now, with these facts before us, which nobody can
deny, it is strange to reflect that while man, from all
parts of the United Kingdom, is to be seen centrifugally
flying from his domicile, the horse’s love for his stable
is a flame which brightens as it burns, and which
nothing but death can extinguish,

Those who have not studied or even observed the pro-

pensities of a horse, fancy that when, like a galley slave

THE STABLE. 109

chained to his oar, he stands tied to his manger, he is
in a prison, from which it would be an act of humanity
to liberate him ; and accordingly, if the animal has faith-
fully served them for many years, they feel disposed to
reward him, as the great Duke of Wellington rewarded
his gallant war-horse Copenhagen, by “turning him out
for the rest of his life.”

These notions, however, are perfectly erroneous. <A
horse not only loves his stable, he not only never wishes
to leave it, but whenever he is taken out of it, although
he may have been confined in it for many months, he
no sooner gets out of the door than he evinces a desire
to re-enter it. Every horseman, every coachman knows
and feels that the difference between riding or driving,
especially a thoroughbred horse from or towards his stable
is so great, that while in the one case it is often necessary
to spur or flog him from his home, the animal invariably
pulls hard, and on any trifling occurrence will start or
kick with joy, all the time he is returning to it; and
his neighs, responded to by his comrades within, express,
in horse language, how pleased he is to get back to them,
and how glad they are to recover him.

A horse loves his stable for the same reasons that ought
to induce his master to love his home—namely, because,
im society that pleases him, he lives well clothed, well

fed, and well housed; and therefore (however well in-

110 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

tended it may be) nothing can be more cruel to a faithful
animal that has all his life been accustomed to such
artificial luxuries, than to turn or ostracise him into a
park so soon as his age and infirmities require for him
if possible still greater comforts.

It would be thought harsh, ungenerous, and unjust,
were a nobleman to reward his old worn out butler,
and bent, decrepit, toothless housekeeper, by consigning
them both for the winter of their lives to the parish
workhouse, where, at no cost to themselves, they would
receive lodging, firmg, food, and raiment; but if, with-
out a shilling in their pockets, and without a rag on
their backs, his Lordship were to turn the poor old couple
adrift in the back-woods of North America, he would
confer upon them, in return for their services, exactly
the same sort of reward which is conferred upon an
old worn out horse when, suddenly deprived of the oats,
beans, hay, bed, clothing, warm stable, and companions
he has been accustomed to, he is all of a sudden, as a
reward in full for all the work he has performed, “ turned
out for the rest of his life.”

The extraordinary attachment of a horse to his stable,
especially if it contains many comrades, may be exem-
plified by the following anecdote :—

Some years ago a brown thorough-bred mare became

gradually afflicted by a spavin on each hind leg, which

THE STABLE. 111

on due consultation, were declared to be incurable except
by firing.

To undergo this painful prescription she was led from
a stable where she had been residing by herself to the
eavalry barracks at Hounslow, about a mile off, where
she was placed in a stable full of horses for a day or two
to undergo a preparatory dose of physic.

By men and ropes she was then cast, fired, and in
the course of two or three days, as soon as she could bear
moving, she was slowly led back to her master, who, with
kind intentions, turned her into a small field of nice,
cool, luxuriant grass, about one hundred yards beyond
his house.

After eating a few mouthfuls the poor animal raised
her head, snorted, looked first on one side, then on the
other, snorted again, stretched out her tail, trotted up
to a stiff post and rail fence, which she cleared, and then
passing unnoticed the loose box in which for many
months she had lived, forgetting and forgiving all the
sufferings that had been inflicted upon her, with raw,
bleeding legs, she galloped along the hard macadamised
road to the cavalry stable, to re-enjoy the society of the
dozen horses which only for a few days she had had the
happiness of associating with.

In constructing a stable the main object should be to

secure to the lungs of the horse pure air, and to prevent

112 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

the hay in the loft above him from being impaired by
foul air.*

By a simple shaft or chimney, and by other well-
known modes of ventilation, both these advantages can be
obtained ; and yet they are, comparatively speaking, of
no avail, if beneath the straw bed on which the horse
lies there exists a substratum generating and emitting
gases of a highly deleterious composition.

A stable may be well ventilated and well draimed,
the forage may be of the best description, and yet all
may be impaired by an atmosphere unfit for respiration ;
for if foul litter beneath be only covered, as is often, and
in many stables is usually the case, by a layer of white
straw, (like a dirty shirt under a suit of fine new cloth-
ing), distemper and disease must be the result.

Although therefore it should be the secondary duty
of a good groom to clean his horse, his primary duty is
to clean his stable ; for as, in a fast and long run across a
deep country, it is undeniable that the healthiest lungs
must triumph, it follows that a clean horse out of a dirty
stable cannot live with a dirty one of exactly the same
character and cast out of a clean stable.

But as it is always easier to preach wisdom than to
practise it, so is it infinitely easier to prescribe clean

* Youatt, in his valuable work entitled “‘THe Horsk,” truly says that
changes from cold to heated foul air are as dangerous to the animal as from
heat to cold.

THE STABLE. 113

litter than to maintain it. Indeed, it is almost impos-
sible to keep straw under a horse perfectly pure; and
accordingly, throughout the United States of America,
and even in New York, horses are often made to he on
bare boards, on which they appear to sleep just as
soundly as in a state of nature they would sleep on
ground baked hard by the sun.

On this fact being privately whispered by us to the
authorities at the Horse Guards, it was at once repudiated
by the assertion that it would ruin English cavalry horses
were they to be made to sleep without litter on hard
boards; and yet all the soldiers of Europe, cavalry as
well as infantry, in their guard rooms sleep and snore on
wooden beds, probably a good deal sounder than do their
respective sovereigns on bedding composed of wool, hair,
down, feathers, fine linen, blankets, and counterpanes.

“ Canst thou, O partial Sleep! give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ;
And, in the calmest and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king ?”—Henry IV.

Another disadvantage of straw-litter is that horses with
a voracious appetite are sometimes prone to eat it, whether
it be clean or dirty. To prevent them from thus dis-
tending as well as injuring their stomachs, it is usual
to inflict upon them a muzzle, which, by impeding
respiration, is more or less injurious to the lungs.

H

114 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

A better and indeed an effectual mode of prevention
is to substitute for straw, wooden shavings, which form

a cheap, wholesome, clean, and comfortable bed.

On SHOEING.

As a railway carriage is constructed on springs to
soften all ordinary jolts, and with buffers to alleviate any
violent concussion;—as the human mind is gifted with
a buoyancy which enables it cheerfully to meet any
trifling vexation, and with sentiments of religion which
maintain its serenity under the severest afflictions, so do
the pastern above a horse’s foot and the frog beneath
it protect: the body of the animal from the continual
slight concussions and occasional severe ones to which,
in ordinary and extraordinary exertions, it is liable to
be subjected.

The pastern, like the instep of those Spanish women
whose heels in walking scarcely touch the ground,
gives grace and elasticity to every step; indeed, in the
walk, trot, canter, and gallop of a horse we clearly see
the spring of his pasterns softening the movements of
their own creation.

But while the career of the body is thus rendered

ON SHOEING. 115

safe and delightful, the imterior mechanism of the foot
is protected by one of those simple, beautiful, mechanical
arrangements which in every direction demonstrate to
us the superintending providence of an Almighty Power.

If the sole, front, sides, and back of a hunter’s foot
had been created as solid and as inelastic as the gold
or silver case of what is called a hunting watch, the
interior of the former, like that of the latter, would
receive material damage from a heavy blow against the
ground.

The coating, however, of hard horn or armour which
shields the front and sides of the sensitive foot from
any obstacle in its course, does not equally extend to
that portion of it in the rear, out of harm’s way, called

the heels, beneath which we find on examination a
| triangular cushion of an Indiarubber-like composition,
which, on concussion, or even by compression, acting
as a wedge, forces the heels that contain it, outwards.

By this beautiful arrangement, when a hunter with
his front legs extended, jumping over a broad fence,
lands on a hard macadamised road upon his two fore-
feet, the heels which receive the greater portion of
the concussion are expanded by it in exact proportion
to the weight of the bodies of the horse and rider, and
the violence of the blow being thus alleviated, the sensi-
tive mechanism of the foot is shielded from injury.

H.2

116 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

And yet, strange to say, simply by the act of shoeing,
this merciful protection im every country in the world
is, generally speaking, destroyed !

If a mischievous or ignorant clown were to drive a
nail through a chronometer, he would only destroy an
insensible and inanimate work of art; but when a man
of wealth, intelligence, and science—the proprietor of a
valuable horse, on whose safe going his comfort, and
occasionally his life depends—deliberately nails to the
poor creature’s living, expansible feet four obdurate,
inexpansible iron shoes, he is really guilty of an act of
barbarity and barbarism which would scarcely be expected
from a savage, for besides mstantly impeding the expan-
sive apparatus of the foot, he effectually stops its growth.

Under this treatment the young horse, by day and by
night, not only lives in shoes which, though they may
not hurt him very much in the stable, always pinch
him “in his utmost need,” or rather speed; but, like
a Chinese lady, he outgrows his own feet, until, on
attainmg his full size, it is discovered that his body,
which, like that of Dives, his master, has always worn
fine clothing, and has fared sumptuously every day, has
nothing but a set of colt’s feet with contracted heels
‘to carry it!

To prevent, or at least to alleviate the sufferings acute

and chronic just described, Mr. Turner, of Regent Street,

ON SHOEING. 117

introduced the unilateral system of what he called “ half-
nailing,” which consists in affixing the shoe by nails on
the outside and round the toe only, leaving the inner
side totally unsecured.

By theorists it was, of course, asserted that this arrange-
ment would prove to be defective and inefficient. In
practice, however, not only is the contrary the result,
but, on nearly thirty years’ experience, we are enabled
to maintain the apparent paradox that in riding along
or across any and every description of country, a shoe,
when half-nailed, is more secure than when wholly
nailed; in fact, that it is insecure almost in proportion
as it is tightly nailed, and secure in proportion as it
is loosely nailed. é

The reasons are obvious.

When a horse is standing still, or lying fast asleep in
his stable, his shoes are, of course, firmer when wholly than
when only half-nailed. So soon, however, as, mounted by
say a heavy man, he begins to move, there commences,
out of sight of every human eye, a desperate, and in
deep ground a subterranean struggle between the works
of Nature and of Vulcan the blacksmith, or, in plainer
words, between the expansive efforts of the frog and
hoof and the arbitrary metallic shoe that is restraining
them.

At each step the contest is renewed; and while, by

118 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

an acceleration of pace, its violence is increased, the
domination of the tyrant at every stride is infinitesimally
diminished in consequence of the nails, which have to
bear the whole brunt of the battle, becoming looser and
looser, until, by a jump on hard ground, or some other
violent concussion, the expansive power of the foot bursts
the impaired fetters that have been restraiming it, and
the poor animal, thus suddenly emancipated from his shoe,
leaves it either buried in mud, or, with every nail in its
socket, glittering on the grass behind him.

Now, under the system of half-nailing, the battle we
have just very faintly described does not take place.
The foot can’t struggle against nails which don’t exist ;
and accordingly, just as the pliant reed remains erect
after the storm that in its immediate neighbourhood has:
torn up by its roots the sturdy oak, so does the half-
nailed shoe, by allowing the horse’s foot to expand, per-
form by gentleness what violence has failed to effect ;
and therefore it remains, throughout a severe run, hard
and fast, where Vulcan placed it.

The Greeks and Romans did not shoe their horses,
but, for long journeys, were in the habit of protecting,
by leathern sandals, strengthened by iron, and orna-
mented with silver or gold, their feet, to the substance

and shape of which they paid great attention.

“The first’ thing,” wrote Xenophon more than 2200 years ago,

ON SHOEING. 119

‘that ought to be looked to in a horse is his foot. For asa house
. would be of no use, though all the upper parts of it were beautiful, if
the lower parts of it had not a proper foundation, so a horse would
not be of any use in war if he had tender feet, even though he should
have all other good qualities, for his good qualities could not be
made of any available use.”

In many parts of the world the horse, though severely
worked, has never yet been shod. Indeed, in some of

the towns in South America it would still cost more

money to shoe a horse than was paid to purchase him.

On Rovcuine Horses.

Although of all axioms no one is more trite and true
than that “there is a right and a wrong way of doing
everything,’ yet our readers will hardly be prepared to
learn that the Anglo-Saxon on one side of the Atlantic
roughs his horse in the mght way, and on the other
side in the wrong way!

In the United States, and especially in Canada, the
surface of which for half a dozen months in every year,
white as a bridal plum-cake, is composed of snow or ice,
the toe as well as the two heels of each shoe are roughed ;
and as, in consequence thereof, the horse on every foot

stands upon a tripod, his sinews and muscles not only

120 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

remain in their proper position all the time he is in
a stable, but while crossing a level country the sole of
each foot when it presses the ground is parallel to its
surface.

Tn ascending a hill the front cog, in descending a hill
the two hind cogs, and in traversing a plain the three
cogs, of each shoe catch firm hold of the ground; and
accordingly the horse, whether in ascent, descent, or on
level ground, works in so true a position, and is so
efficiently roughed, that out of deep snow he can, at
any gradient, gallop suddenly upon what is called “clare
ice,” almost as hard as iron, without the slightest danger
to himself or his rider.

Now, in England, generally speaking, horses are most
unscientifically roughed on their heels solely, which not
only at once, even in the stable, especially when the out-
side cogs are unequally turned up, throws the mechanism
of their feet and fetlocks out of gear—it not only forces
them while travelling on a dead level into a false position,
but, after all this maltreatment, the poor animal finds out
that he is very inefliciently roughed.

For imstance, in descending a hill, only the cog or
cogs of the heels of each foot, which can never be placed
parallel to the ground, take hold of it. In ascending,
his case is infinitely worse ; for, as it becomes necessary,

especially when he is drawing a very heavy load, that

‘

ent te

ON ROUGHING HORSES. 121

he should raise his heels off the road in order to stick
into it his toes, he then discovers that while the hind
portion of his shoe which he abstains from using has
been roughed for him, the front part, which, for the
ascent, especially requires to be roughed, has been left
untouched. Even to gallop a horse, shod in the English
fashion, over level ice, is exceedingly dangerous ; for
although, so long as by a powerful bit he is forced on
his haunches, the two cogs at the back of each shoe take
hold, yet, if the poor animal be allowed to drop his head
in order to propel himself at his utmost speed by his
unroughed toes, they immediately slip from under him,
and he thus experiences a defect, which it is astonishing
should have been so long perpetrated by a nation who,
at an enormous expenditure of time, intelligence, and
money, have succeeded in rearing a breed of horses, the
finest in the world, coveted by every foreigner, but which

they persist in rudely roughing in the wrong way !

SADDLES,

Ifa saddle does not come down upon the withers and
back-bone of a horse, the closer it approaches them the
firmer it fits; and as, in the matrimonial alliance which

122 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

exists between the quadruped and the biped, whatever
is agreeable to the one is usually so to the other, a
roomy saddle, on which the rider can sit with ease and
comfort, is also beneficial to the horse, because it spreads
the weight he has to carry over a large surface, and

the pressure per square inch being thereby diminished,

a sore back is less likely to be created, and per contra,
for the very same reason, the human skin is less likely
to be rubbed. P |

Less than a century ago it was deemed necessary by
hunting men to tie their saddle to their horse’s tail by
a crupper, which, at every jump, must have compressed
the vertebrae of the poor animal, like the joints of a
telescope when slightly closed by a jerk. The object
of this barbarous apparatus was to prevent the saddle
shipping forwards, whereas, by the opposite apparatus
of the present day, a breast-plate has been substituted,
to prevent the saddle from slipping backwards. ‘The
difference between these two conflicting precautions has
been caused by the difference in the breeding, and con=
sequently in the size of the horse’s belly, which, in the
time of our ancestors, was lusty, instead of being—as in”
the present day, when many hunters are racers, and all
in high condition—fine and slim.

When a horse is exceedingly light in the carcase, or
as it is technically termed “ tucked up,” it is usual among

SADDLES. 123

grooms and riders to girth the poor creature as tightly

. as they can, in order, as much as is possible, to relieve
. the breast-plate; but imstead of assisting it, the grievous
mistake first paralyses its action, and then, if it be weak,

breaks it, for the following simple reasons.

- If a horse, with a belly tapering like a cone, be
tightly girthed, his saddle, whenever it slips backwards
(which it must do in ascending a steep hill or bank),
remains hard and fast on the part of the back to which it

has retired, straining against the breast-plate, whose
straps have not power to make it re-ascend the cone:
whereas if, on the contrary, the saddle of a light-
earcased horse be unusually loosely girthed, although
mm ascending an acclivity the saddle slips backwards
until it is retained by the breast-plate, yet, the imstant
the horse either descends a hill, or gallops upon level
ground, his own action, combined with the power of
the breast-plate straps affixed to the saddle and girths,
put an end to all strain upon the latter, by drawing
the loosely-girthed saddle forwards into its proper posi-
tion. And it is for this reason that horses of all shapes

ought to be girthed less tightly when they carry breast-
plates than when they are without them, and always two
holes looser when they are light-carcased than when they
are lusty.

Formerly it was the usual custom in the hunting-field,

124 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

as it still is on the road, to secure the saddle by two
narrow girths, each buckled on either side to one strap,

This arrangement has lately been superseded by what

are called Fitzwilliam girths, composed of one of double

breadth with two buckles at each end, and of a narrow
one encircling and secured to the broad one by two
loops, through which it passes.

By this admirable alteration perfect safety is obtained ;
for, as the broad girth is secured to four straps, if, say
one on each side burst at a leap, the other two remain
efficient ; and even if all break, those of the narrow
girth retain the broad one in its place; while, on the
other hand, if the straps of the broad girth hold, the

narrow one is prevented by the loops above described

¢

from dangling, in case either of its two buckles should

give way.

Whereas, by the old arrangement, if out of four straps
any one burst at a leap, its girth instantly dangled,
leaving the safety, and possibly the life of the rider, to
depend on only two straps, by the rupture of either one
of which he would suddenly, without his knowledge, be
riding, possibly at a large fence, without any girths
at all.

But, although hunting men have gained a step or
stride by this new fashioned girth, they have lately, as

if to balance the account, retrograded to the wisdom of

SADDLES. 125

their ancestors by discarding the modern stuffed saddle-
flap in favour of that ancient hard one which for many
years has been used only by postilions.

For ordinary riding, and especially for ordinary riders,
a quantity of stuffing in the form of a sausage, in front of
their shins, no doubt retains them in their seat.

In hunting, however, this retention has for many
years been producing strains of the large muscles of
the thigh, which, although of common occurrence, none
of the sufferers could very clearly account for. On reflec-
tion, the cause is obvious.

In riding over a large fence, or in any sudden blunder
the horse may commit, the rider, without losing his seat,
is liable to be thrown, body and bones, forward two or
three inches, and accordingly on the plain flat hard flap
he glides onwards without inconvenience or injury to the
exact extent required.

- But when, instead of being able to do so, his knees
and shins are suddenly arrested by the stuffing imme-
diately in front of them, the momentum of his body
causes it to bend forwards on the pivot formed by his
knees, on the same principle as a cart-load of earth
propelled along a new railway embankment is chucked
over its extremity on being suddenly stopped by a log
of timber placed there transversely for that very object ;
and accordingly, the great muscles of the thigh which

126 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

have to sustain this conflict between the moveable and
immoveable parts of one frame are often so severely
strained, that they require, for many months, to be
bandaged by a leathern strap.

The plain flap is considerably lighter than the stuffed
one. It is a sovereign cheaper; im case it gets into a
brook it dries easier ; and after all, it is infinitely more
agreeable to ride on. For all these good reasons, in Leices-

tershire, Northamptonshire, and Lincolnshire, which may _

be termed the region in England of large fences, it
has been generally adopted. However, as Peter in his
‘ Letters to his Kinsfolk’ truly observed that although the
mail ran from London to Edinburgh im forty-eight hours, —
it required always six months for fashions in dress to
travel from the former metropolis to the latter, so
throughout almost all the other counties hunting men
continue to sit behind that costly, ugly, thigh-straining

sausage stuffing which the riders to the Pytchley, Quorn,

aa 2 eee ee ee er ee

and Cottesmore hounds have so properly discarded.

BRIDLES.

Arrian states that the Persians, in battle, had no
bridles, but governed and guided their horses by nose

bands, covering sharp pieces of iron, brass, or ivory.

BRIDLES. 127

The curb bit, though used in the time of the Roman

sented riding with one of extraordinary leverage), was
eet adopted by the English until Charles I. in the
year of his reign issued a proclamation, com-
manding that no person serving in the cavalry should
e the snaffle, but in lieu thereof the curb only.

On the frieze of the Temple of Minerva, in the Acro-

till ridden) without bridles or saddles.

The best bridle for a horse is, of course, that which
is best adapted to the particular work he is required to
perform.

_ For racing over turf, where he is required to extend
himself like a greyhound, the snafle-bit only is almost
invariably selected.

For cavalry purposes, where he is required suddenly
to throw himself on his haunches, wheel to either side,

gallop back again, a curb-bit only is used.

For hunting, both bits are necessary ; for while across
turf, light soil, and over fences of almost every descrip-
tion, the snaffle is a safer guide than the curb-bit, yet

128 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

in going through deep ground the latter is absolutely
necessary to enable the rider, by holding his horse together,
not only to prevent him from extending himself—in which
attitude his hind feet would overreach his fore ones before
they could be extricated from the sub-soil—but to stop
him quickly, for instance to pop through a gap on either
side, which he would otherwise override for a considerable
distance.

To leap over the hedge of a plantation full of trees
on a hot horse, with only a snaffle-bit im his mouth,
would be dangerous, and often impracticable; whereas
it might easily be effected with a curb-bit, by which
the animal could moreover be made to ascend a steep
narrow bank, creep along it, and then jump off it,
over perhaps the only practicable point in the fence
beyond it.

The shape, make, and leverage of bits of all descrip- - )

tions of course depend on the mouth and disposition of
the particular animal for which they are required.

It may, however, be generally stated that for all horses
a plain snaffle is better than a twisted one; and that of
curb-bits, those are the best which give to the rider the
maximum of mechanical power, with, to the noble animal
beneath him, the minimum of pain.

To a war horse, as well as to his rider, it may be

immaterial whether he be infuriated by spurs pricking

BRIDLES. 129
his sides, or from the laceration of his mouth by a harsh
bit, purposely constructed to hurt him.

As regards a hunter, however, the case is quite dif-
ferent ; for while on the one hand his becoming infuriated
is dangerous to his master as well as himself, a total
absence of pain induces him to give calm attention to
the difficult work he has to perform.

Although, therefore, according to the animal’s disposi-
tion a sufficient amount of leverage is required, the
smocther the bit is made the more willing will he be
to submit to it, and the less will he be disposed to
quarrel with it; indeed this principle has more than
once been exemplified by the fact of a runaway horse,
over which his rider had apparently no control, stopping
gradually of his own accord, in consequence of the rupture
of the curb cham, which, having infuriated him by the
agony it had inflicted on his lower jaw, aad actually
caused the very danger it had been created to prevent.
And it is for this reason that a leathern strap ought
almost invariably to be placed under the hard twisted
curb chain, by which simple addition acute pain is
removed, without any diminution of strength of the

chain or of the leverage of the curb-bit.

130 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

IntTRINSIC VALUE OF A HORSE.

Although it is a common axiom that ‘“ the value of a
thing is exactly what it will fetch,” yet im the hunting-
field the price at which a horse has been sold is very
rarely a criterion of his real worth, the reason being that
his performances are made up of three items, of which
he himself forms only one, the other two being stable
management and good riding, for neither of which is the
quadruped entitled to claim the smallest amount of credit ;
and yet, on the principle that “ handsome is that hand-
some does,” it is a usual error, especially among young
sportsmen, to estimate that a horse which goes brilliantly
must be a good one, and vice versa ; whereas an ordinary
description of animal, in splendid condition, and judici-
ously ridden, cannot fail to leave far behind him a
superior one injudiciously ridden, made up of flesh instead
of muscle, of impure instead of pure blood, and of bloated,
unpractised, instead of healthy, well-exercised lungs, For
these reasons it continually happens that a horse that has
been observed to go what is called ‘ brilliantly ” through-
out a run, is, at its conclusion, sold for a considerable
sum, in addition to another horse, on which the purchaser,
in a few weeks, leaves behind him the animal he had sold,

whose owner now to his cost discovers that

INTRINSIC VALUE OF A HORSE. 131

‘The lovely toy so keenly sought
Has lost its charms by being caught”
by him.

But the price of a hunter is materially affected by the
quality as well as the qualifications of his rider, whose
position in the world often confers upon his horses a
fictitious value ; and accordingly the hunting stud of the
late Sir Richard Sutton—sold by public auction shortly
after his death—realised sums exceeding by at least 40
per cent. what subsequently proved to be their current
value when transferred to the stables of people of less
renown.

Again, a respectable, first-rate horse dealer succeeds in
his profession, not so much by his superior knowledge of
the animals he buys, but by the quantity and quality of
the eloquence he exerts in selling them. Every hunter,
therefore, that is purchased from a great man of this
description is necessarily composed of, Ist, his intrinsic
value; and 2nd, of the anecdotes, smiles, compliments,
and praises, which, although when duly mixed up with
an evident carelessness about selling him, captivated the
listener to purchase him, like a bottle of uncorked ardent
spirits evaporate, or, like a swarm of bees, fly away, almost
as soon as the transaction is concluded, leaving behind

them nothing but the animal’s intrinsic value.

EZ

132 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

On SHYING.

It often happens that a horse brimfull of qualifications
of the very best description is most reluctantly sold by
his master ‘‘ because he shies so dreadfully,” a frolic which,
to a good rider, is perfectly harmless, and which, if he
deems it worth the trouble, he is almost certain to cure.

A timid horseman, however, not only believes that his
horse is frightened at the little heap of stones at which
he shies, but for this very reason he becomes frightened
at it himself; whereas the truth is that the animal’s sensa-

tions in passing it are usually compounded as follows :—

Of fear of the little heap .

ms
. po:
whip and spur . . 4%

- Yo

Now, if this be the case, which no one of experience
will deny, it is evident that the simple remedy to be
adopted is, first, at once to remove the great cause of the
evil complained of, by ceasing to apply either whip or
spur; and, secondly, gradually to remove the lesser cause
by a little patient management which shall briefly be ex-
plained.

When a horse has been overloaded with a heavy charge
of oats and beans, which may be termed jumping powder,
and primed by a very short allowance of work, his spirits,

like the hair trigger of a rifle, are prepared on the

SHYING. 133
smallest touch to cause a very violent explosion. In fact,
without metaphor, on the slightest occurrence he is not
only ready, but exceedingly desirous, to jump for joy.

The casus belli which the animal would perhaps most

enjoy would be to meet a temperance run-away awning-
covered waggon full of stout, healthy young women in
hysterics, all screaming; or to have a house fall down just
as he was passing it. However, as a great conqueror, if
he cannot discover a large excuse for invading the terri-
tory of his neighbour, is sure to pick out a very little
one, so does the high mettled horse who has nothing to
start at, proceed under his rider with his eyes searching
in all directions for something which he may pretend to
be afraid of. Influenced by these explosive propensities
he cocks his ears at a large leaf which the air had gently
roused from its sleep, as if it were a crouching tiger ;
and shortly afterwards a fore leg drops under him as sud-
denly as if it had been carried away by a cannon shot,
because in the hedge beside him a wren has just hopped
from one twig to another nearly an inch.
_ Now, of course, the effective cure for all these symptoms
of exuberant, pent up spirits is a long, steady hand-gallop
up and down hill across rather deep ground. Before, how-
ever, this opportunity offers, man can offer to the brute
beneath him a more reasonable remedy.

The instant that a horse at a walk sees at a short dis-

134 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

tance before him, say a heap of stones, at which he pre-
tends to be or really is afraid, instead of foremg him on,
he should be allowed or, if it be necessary, forced to
stop, not only till he has ceased to fear it, but until, dead
tired of looking at it, he averts his eyes elsewhere.

While advancing towards it, so often as his fear,
or pretended fear, breaks out, by instantly bringing
him to a stand-still it should in like manner be over-
appeased.

In slowly passing any object which a horse appears to
be afraid of, the error which is almost invariably com-
mitted is to turn his head towards it, in which case, re-
volving upon his bit as on a pivot, the animal turns his
hind-quarters from it, and in that position with great
ease shies more or less away from it; whereas, if the rein
opposite to it be pulled firmly, he not only instantly
ascertains that his rider’s desire is im opposition to, instead
of in favour of forcing him towards the object of his fear,
but when his head is drawn away from it, although he is
able to rush forwards, it is out of his power to shy late-
rally.

Now, instead of endeavouring thus to triumph over
instinct by reason, instead of allowing a horse more time
even than he requires to appease his own apprehensions,
be they real or pretended, the course which a gentle-

man’s groom usually adopts is, like giving fuel to fire,

SHYING. 135

to add to the animal’s fear of the object he is unwilling
to approach, his infinitely greater fear of a pair of plated
spurs.

The oftener and the stronger this ignorant prescription
is applied, the more violent becomes the disease it under-
takes to alleviate, until, on its being declared to be incur-
able, the poor frightened animal is sold for a fault almost

entirely created by human hands and inhuman heels.

The extent to which a timid animal can be appeased
by kindness is, at the present moment, beautifully exem-
plified by a deer, which has been so divested of its fears
by Tom Hill, the huntsman of the Surrey foxhounds, that
the animal not only accompanies the hounds when taken
out for exercise, but eats biscuit, and actually sleeps with
them in the kennel.

If, during their meal, two of the hounds fight, by a
pat with his fore feet he tries to separate them. If, at
exercise, anything alarms him, with a bound or two he
vaults for safety into the middle of the pack. And yet,
when in this citadel, if any strange dog approaches them,
with malice prepense he rushes out at him, as if deter-
mined to kill him. In short, by kind superintendence
the deer has become as fond of blood-thirsty hounds as
they of him,

156 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

SINGEING.

As it 1s incumbent on all civilized communities to be

kind to every living being,—as our laws profess to main-
tain this Christian axiom,—and as there exists among
us a Society self-constituted for the especial purpose of
“the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals,” it would be very
difficult satisfactorily to explain, at least to them, why,
in violation of so benign a theory, we deliberately practise

the following fashions :—

1. Of cutting off all our sheep’s tails,

2. Of dittoing the tails of all dogs that take care of
sheep.

3. Of dittoing the ears of terriers.

4, Of dittoing a portion of the tails, and occasionally
of the ears, of our horses.

0. Of piercing with a sharp awl the ears of all our
daughters, in order to insert therein golden rings, which,
by equalizing all, can confer no possible benefit on any
one: that is to say, provided Euclid is correct in declaring
that ‘when equals are added to equals, their sums are
equal,”

If any person among us defaces a statue, he is liable

to punishment and to the execration of the public; and

SINGEING, 137

yet there can be no doubt that in every sense of the
word it is more barbarous to mutilate the living original
of an Almighty Creator than a cold stone or marble
copy thereof, chiselled more or less imperfectly by human
hands.

About forty years ago it was the general custom to
dock the tails of all hunters, covert-hacks, and waggon-
horses, so close, that nothing remained of this picturesque,
beautiful ornament of Nature but an ugly, stiff stump,
very little longer than the human thumb, which, especially
in summer time, was seen continually wagging to the
right or left, in impotent attempts to brush off a hungry
fly, biting the skin more than a yard off. At about the
same period an officer in our army took to the Cape of
Good Hope a gentle, beautiful, thoroughbred mare, which,
to his astonishment, the natives appeared exceedingly
unwilling to approach. The reason was, that her ears
had been cropped; and as among themselves that punish-
ment was inflicted for crimes, they were induced to infer
that the handsome mutilated animal had suffered from a
similar cause—in fact, that she was viczous.

From the same premises, and by the same reasoning
faculties, they might as erroneously have conceived that
the holes bored through most of the English ladies’ ears
denoted the existence of a uniform speck of some sort

or other in their characters.

138 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

Having briefly enumerated only a few of the mutila-
tions which, in different regions of the earth, man inflicts,
not only upon the animals around him, but upon himself,
we will proceed to notice a prescription of modern date
which has produced very astonishing results,

As in crime there exists an essential difference between
cutting off a man’s head, and cutting off only his hair, so
in cruelty does there exist a similar difference between
the fashion which mutilates the body of an animal, and
that which deprives him only of its covering: still, how-
ever, the practice of clipping, shaving, and singeing horses
must, to every person, at first sight appear so incompre-
hensible that a slight notice of the subject may possibly be
deemed worthy of a few minutes’ consideration. :

To a wild horse, roaming in a state of perfect freedom,
Nature grants an allowance very similar to that which
every inhabitant of Grosvenor Square gives to each of
his tall powdered footmen: namely, board, lodging, and
two suits of clothing per annum; with this important
difference, however, that while the poor pampered, gaudy
menial is ignorantly dressed throughout the whole year
in cloth and plush of the same thickness, the animal is
beneficently provided with two different descriptions of
clothing, namely, a light thin silky coat for summer
wear, and a thick fur one to keep him warm and com-

fortable throughout the winter months.

SINGEING. 139

Now it might be expected that if man undertook to
interfere with this provision, he would, in accordance
with the spirit and meaning of the act by which it had
been decreed, extend its principle by relieving the horse
of a portion of his covering during the excessive heat
of summer, and by bestowing upon him a little extra
warmth in winter; whereas, by the operation about to
be described, he makes the animal’s cold weather coat
infinitely less able to resist cold tha that purposely
created for sunshine only.

About fifty years ago, during the Peninsular war, it
was observed that the Spanish muleteers gave to the
animals they had charge of great apparent relief by rudely
Shearing off the hair that covered their bodies ; and on
the idea being imported into England, our hunting men,
principally at Melton, commenced the practice by “clip-
ping,” at a cost at first of about five guineas, their
hunters.

This operation, which, in its infancy, occupied four
or five days, was succeeded by the practice of shaving,
which, in about as many hours, left the animal as bare as
the hide of a pig that had just been killed, scalded, and
scraped.

This latter operation, however, was found to be attended
with two opposite disadvantages: for, if perpetrated too

soon, it required to be repeated, or rather to be succeeded

140 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

by clipping; and if delayed till the growth of the thick
coat had subsided, the horse remained throughout the
winter naked like an elephant.

In order therefore to shorten the coat exactly in propor-
tion to its uncertain growth, it was determined gradually
and repeatedly to burn it by fire to the minimum length
prescribed, that is, leaving only sufficient to conceal the
bare skin.

When the animal has thus been denuded of his coat,
so long as he remains in his hot stable it is restored to
him with compound interest, by two, and occasionally by
three suits of warm clothing, which he might expect
would, like that worn by his lord and master, be in-
creased as soon as he should be led from his covered
domicile into the open air. But the contrary operation
takes place; for while his owner is swathing himself in
his extra flannel hunting clothing, the singed quadruped
at the same moment, in order to be taken to the
meet, at one haul is denuded of the whole of his indoor
clothing, a bridle is put imto his mouth, a saddle on his
bare back, and in this state, literally, without metaphor,
more naked than he was born, he is suddenly led or
ridden ten or fifteen miles through perhaps wind, rain,
sleet, or snow, to be exposed throughout the whole day
to sudden sweats and sudden chills, in temperatures and

at elevations of the most trying description.

SINGEING. 141

Now, of course, in theory, nothing can be more un-
natural, and it might be added more barbarous, than this
treatment; and yet, strange to say, by acclamation it
would be declared by every horse-owner who has tried
it that, in practice, it produces to the animal not only
beneficial, but unexpected, results.

The lungs appear to become stouter.

Hot swelled legs suddenly get cool and fine.

The appetite grows stronger.

The flesh increases.

The muscles thicken.

In consequence of greatly diminished perspiration
the amount of food necessary to recruit the body may be
reduced, at least, one feed per day.

After hunting, the skin, instead of breaking out from
internal debility and exhaustion, remains dry.

Lastly, as mud and dirt cannot take hold of a singed
coat, and consequently as little or no grooming is re-
quired, the animal, on reaching his stable, soon enjoys
rest, instead of being for an hour or two teased, excited,
and irritated, by being tied up, hissed at, and cleaned.

But, against all these advantages, it is only fair to
weigh the amount of suffermg which it is supposed by
us a horse endures by being stripped of his coat and
clothing, and in that naked state being suddenly plunged,

during winter, into the external air.

142 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

In ascertaining this amount of suffering, however, we
must not commit the error of estimating a horse’s sensation
by what, under similar circumstances, we imagine would
be our own, for the cases are quite different.

Throughout the frame or fabric of man, his blood,
however proud it may be, circulates so feebly, that on
bemg subjected to a low temperature it actually, like
fluid in a pipe, freezes in his veins ; whereas throughout
the body of a horse it is propelled with such violence,
that, like the deep water m the Canada lakes, it is beyond
the power of cold, however intense, to stop it; and accord-
ingly, when everything else around stands frozen, it
triumphantly continues its fluent course. In fact, the
relative power of the two animals to resist cold is fully
proportionate to the difference between their muscular
strength; and as the human being, notwithstanding its
weakness, is strong enough to endure the sudden tran-
sition from a hot bath to a cold one, or, as is the custom
in Russia, to a roll on the snow, so, 4 fortiori, is a hunter
gifted by Nature with a circulation of blood powerful
enough to enable him, without injury or suffering, to bear
an apparently unnatural mode of treatment, which, al-
though it makes us almost shiver to think of, is productive
to his stouter frame of beneficial results, of inestimable

value.

MEET OF THE PYTCHLEY HOUNDS. 143

MEET OF THE PytcHLEY Hounps at ARTHING-
WORTH.

Among hunting men there is nothing so unpopular as
what is called by the rest of the world a most beautiful,
clear, bright day. The gaudy thing is disagreeable to
eyes because it is dangerous to the bodies to which they
respectively belong; for when every twig glitters in the
sunshine, and every drop of dew that hangs upon them
looks like a diamond, the fences so dazzle the eyes of
riders, and especially of horses, that a number of extra
falls are very commonly the result. Soft ground, dull
weather, an easterly wind, and a cloudy sky, form the
compound that is most approved of. On such a day, and
under such circumstances, we beg leave to invite our
readers to sit with us patiently for a very few minutes in
a balloon, as, like a hawk hovering above a partridge, it
hangs over the quiet little village of Arthingworth, in
Northamptonshire. Those hounds, headed by that
Whipper-in riding so lightly and neatly on his horse,
and surrounding their huntsman Charles Payne, jogging
along, seated in his saddle as if he had grown there, are
on that portion of the Queen’s highway which connects
Northampton with Market Harborough. They are the
Pytchley hounds, the hereditary property, not of the pre-

144 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

sent master, but of the hunt. They are on their way from
their kennel at Brixworth to a park at Arthingworth to
draw “ Waterloo Gorse,” which means that every man
who intends to come (and their name is legion) will send
there, not his best-looking, but, what is infinitely better,
that which he knows to be “his best horse,” simply
because the covert of Waterloo not only usually holds a
good fox, but because it is encircled by very large grass-
fields, enlivened in every direction by the severest fences
in Northamptonshire. See how quietly along every high-
road, bye-road, and footpath, horses and riders, of various
sizes and sorts, walking, jogging, or gently trotting, are
converging towards a central point! Schoolboys are
coming to see the start on ponies; farmers on clever
nags; others on young horses of great price; neatly-
dressed grooms, some heavy and some light, are nding, or
riding and leading, horses magnificent in shape and breed-
ing, in the most beautiful condition, all as clean and well-
appointed as if they had been prepared to do miserable
penance in Rotten Row. And are all these noble and
ignoble animals beneath us going to the hunt? Yes,
and many more that we cannot see. Look at those
straight streams of white steam that through green fields
are concentrating from north, south, east, and west upon
Market Harborough, from Leicester, from Northampton,

from Stamford, and from Rugby—denoting trains that,

MEET OF THE PYTCHLEY HOUNDS. 145

at the rate of thirty or forty miles an hour, are hurrying
boxes all containing hunters for the meet.

On the huntsman and hounds slowly entering and taking
up their positions in the small park at Arthingworth,
excepting two or three farmers, no one is there to receive
or notice them. However, in a few minutes, through
large gates and through smaller ones, grooms on and with
their horses walk steadily in ; while Charles Payne, occa-
sionally chucking from his coat-pocket a few crumbs of
bread to his hounds, most of whom are looking upwards
at him, leaning over his horse, is holding confidential
conversation with a keeper. <“ Jt’s too bad!” whispers
an old farmer, who had just been entrusted with the
secret that another fox had last night been shot by
poachers; ‘and, what's more, it’s been a-going on IN
MANY WAYS a long time.” ‘‘ Yes!” replies Charles
Payne, looking as calmly and philosophically as Hamlet
when he was moralismg over Yorick’s skull; “ you may
rely upon it that, what with greyhounds,—and poachers,
—and traps,—and poison,—there are very few foxes now-
a-days that die a natural death” —meaning that they
were not eaten up alive by the Pytchley hounds.

But during all this precious time where are all the
scarlet coats? Oh! here they come, trotting, riding, and
galloping to the meet from every point of the compass,
and apparently from every region of the habitable globe,

K

146 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

some of the young ones—diverging as usual from their
path of rectitude—to lark over a fence or two. Along
the turnpike and country roads, drags with four horses,
light dog-carts with two, post-chaises and gigs, each laden
with men muftled up in heavy clothing, showing no pink,
save a little bit peeping out at the collar, are all hurrying
onwards to the same goal; and as these living bundles,
with cigars in their mouths, are rapidly landing in the
park, it will be advisable that we also should descend
there to observe them.

By about a quarter before eleven the grass in front of
the hospitable hunting-box of one of the late masters
of the Pytchley—who, take him all in all, is one of the
very best riders in the hunt—becomes as crowded as a fair
with sportsmen of all classes, from the highest rank in the
peerage down to—not exactly those who rent a 67. house,
—but who can afford money and time enough to “ hoont,”
as they call it. While two or three well-appomted ser-
vants in livery are very quietly, from a large barrel,
handing glasses of bright-looking ale to any farmer or
groom who, after his long ride, may happen to feel a
little thirsty, and while others from white wicker-baskets
are distributing bits of bread and lumps of cheese to any
man who may feel that beneath his waistcoat there is
house-room to receive them, the honourable and gallant

proprietor of the brown barrel and white baskets, lounging

MEET OF THE PYTCHLEY HOUNDS. 147

in his red coat, &., on his exalted lawn, with sundry
small scratches (from bull-finches) on his face, with some-
thing now and then smoking a little from his mouth,
and with that placid and easy manner which in every
situation of life distinguishes him, says to any friend in
pink that happens to pass him, “ Won’t ye go IN for a
moment ?” But, without invitation, most of the aristo-
crats, leaving their horses with their grooms, to ascend
a flight of ladder steps which raises them to the lawn, walk
slowly and majestically across it, adjusting their hair,
“just to make their bow.’ When that compliment has
been paid, they pause for a second or two in the hall,
and then recross the lawn, indolently munching, and
with perfumed handkerchiefs carefully wiping lips or
mustachios (as the case may be), which, if they were
very closely approached, might possibly smell partly of
cherries, to proceed to their respective grooms, and mount
their horses.

“ Move-0n,-Str?” says Charles Payne, in his sharp,
quick tone, touching his cap to the master, who slightly
nods to him. “ Now-then,-gentlemen!” he adds, “ ware
HOUNDS, ¢f you please!” and accordingly, surrounded by
them, onwards he, his two whips, and about two hundred
horsemen, proceed at a walk to cross for nearly half a
mile magnificent fields of grass of from eighty to a hun-
dred acres. As the Pytchley and Quorn men are, for the

é K 2

148 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

reasons we have explained, each mounted on the very
best of their stud, it need hardly be stated that the lot
of horses before us are an accumulation of the finest speci-
mens in the world; and yet with the highest breeding,
courage, and condition, with magnificent figures, and
with bone and substance sufficient to carry, through deep
ground, from twelve to eighteen stone, there is a calm,
unassuming demeanour in their walk, which it seems
almost impossible sufficiently to admire. in like manner,
among the riders, nobody appears to have the smallest dis-
position to talk about what he is going to do, or apparently
even to think of where he is proceeding. A man from
Warwickshire will perhaps describe the run he had there
on Thursday; while another will fashionably say to a
Leicestershire friend—‘ Did you do anything on Fri-
day ?’—but most of the field are conversing as they nde
along, not at all about foxes, but about Lords Palmerston,
Derby, Italy, the Pope, Xe.

On arriving close to Waterloo Gorse, Charles Payne
pulls up to remain stationary for a couple of minutes,
surrounded by his hounds, who, instead of gazing at his
face, are all looking most eagerly at the covert, until
the two whips, getting round it, have each taken up a
position on the other side. “ Now-rHEn-little-bitches !”
says Charles, as, with a twitch corresponding with his

voice, he waves forwards his right hand, in which is

MEET OF THE PYTCHLEY HOUNDS. 149

grasped the silver horn presented to him by the farmers.
Without taking the smallest offence at the appellation
(which after all is a just one, for, as they are the fastest
of his two packs, Charles does not object to bringing
them to “ Waterloo”), in they dash; and in a second
Charles and his horse are over the low flight of rails,
to gallop along a briary path which conducts them to a
small open space in the centre of the covert. The
greater portion of the field, in coats of many colours,
congregate on its right.

But ‘ quanto sono insensibili questi Inglesi!” Instead
of evincing the smallest degree of anxiety, the conyersa-
tions we have described are renewed; and though cer-
tainly nobody seems to care the hundred-thousandth part
of a farthing about what his lips are saying, and though
the countenance of every man appears to acknowledge
that, on the whole, he is well enough satisfied with this
world, yet men and horses remain perfectly cool, and
occasionally cold, until it might be fancied by any old
soldier standing a mile off that a shell had suddenly
burst in the middle of them. “Pray, don’t holla!”
exclaims an old sportsman in a loud whisper. “ By
JOVE, HE’S AWAY!” screams a very young one in pink,
pointing to a shepherd who, grasping a struggling dog
with one hand, is holding up his hat with the other.

Half a dozen loud, slow, decisive, monotonous blasts from

150 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

Charles Payne’s horn are instantly heard, while his hounds,
tumbling over each other, jump almost together over a
small hedge and ditch out of the covert, with their
beautiful heads all pointing towards Leicestershire. As
they and reynard take the opposite side of the large
grass field in which the riders had assembled, the start
of the latter is very nearly as sudden as that of the former.
Packed together almost as closely as the wild young crea-
tures that on Epsom course run for the Derby, the best
men and the best horses belonging to the Pytchley, Quorn,
Cottesmore, and Warwickshire hounds start together over
turf down a gentle declivity, at the bottom of which runs
an insignificant stream. Steady horsemanship in every
rider is necessary to prevent treading on those imme-
diately before, or jostling those on each side. Many a
horse, by shaking his head, clearly enough shows how
unwelcome to him is the restraint. From this conglo-
meration nearly a dozen men extricate themselves by
the superior speed and management of their horses.
Before them* is a well-known broad and strong fence,
which, without competing against each other, they most
gallantly charge, “magn& comitante caterva,” followed
by the great ruck. One,—two,—three,—four,—five,—
six men and horses take it almost together in their
stride, and, to the astonishment of the remainder, all
disappear! Every horse had well cleared the broad ditch

* This scene we happened to witness,

MEET OF THE PYTCHLEY HOUNDS. 151

on the other side, but all nearly simultaneously had landed
in an artificial bog beyond it, made for draining purposes
only a few days before, and in which the six men and
the six horses, each perfectly unhurt, are now as prostrate
and as “ comfortable ” as if they had, to use the old nurse’s
expression, “just been put to bed.” The Hon. Fred.
Villiers and Harry Everard are the first over and down.
As they le together in the mud, looking upwards, they
see coming over the stakes of the hedge the Fitzwilliam
girths of the horses of Henry Forrester and Thomas
Atkinson (Vive L’ Empereur !), followed almost instantly
by two strangers. However, nearly as quickly as they
all fell, they severally arise, mount their horses, and
gallantly regain the hounds. The field of riders, unable
to comprehend what has happened, and moreover unable
as well as unwilling to stop their horses, as it were
by word of command, all gracefully swerve together in
a curve to the right to take two stiff fences instead
of one. About half a dozen, on perfect timber-jumpers,
cross a ditch overhung by a stout ash rail, firmly fixed
between two trees; the remainder break their way through
a bull-finch, and then, throwing their right shoulders
forward, at a very honest pace, all make every proper
effort to catch Charles Payne and the few others who
with him had followed the line of the hounds.

We should certainly tire and jolt our readers very

grievously were we to presume to hustle them through

s

152 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

the well-known and splendid run that ensued. Not only,
however, do our limits forbid us to do so, but as we
shall shortly have to quote hunting-anecdotes from a
very superior pen, we willingly pull up to make, in

cool blood instead of in hot, a very few remarks.

EFFECTS CAUSED BY THE SIGHT OF Houwunps.

A description of a fox-hunt is not very agreeable either
to read or to write,—firstly, because it records a series of
events of no very great importance when they are over;
and secondly, because the picture generally bears the ap-
pearance of exaggeration; the reason being, that it is
composed of two parts, one of which it is almost impos-
sible accurately to delineate. The danger or difficulty
which a man and horse incur in taking any particular
leap depends on the one hand upon the size of the fence,
and on the other upon the combined amount of weight,
strength, and activity which the horse can bring up to
it. In trade, if a given weight, whether small or great,
be put into one scale, it can be at once overbalanced
by putting a still greater weight into the other scale.
But while the dimensions of a fence can accurately be
measured, it would be not only very difficult to determine
the physical powers of a hunter, but, even if the state-

ment could be made, ninety-nine people out of every

EFFECTS CAUSED BY THE SIGHT OF HOUNDS. 153

hundred would most certainly disbelieve it; for, as the
old proverb says, “seeing is believing ;” so when a man
has ridden a horse across his farm for many years, he
is fully persuaded that,—to use another common expres-
sion,— he knows what he is made of.’ But the truth
is, he only knows what he has done, and what he can do
under the maximum of excitement he hitherto has ever
experienced ; what he does not know, and indeed what
without trial he can have no idea of, is the enormous
amount of latent physical power in his horse which even
the sight of hounds will develop.

For instance, in riding a hack along the road, the con-
fidence or, as it may be termed, the courage of the rider
depends not on himself, but on the strength and action of
the animal he is bestriding. If the nag picks up his feet
quickly, and pops them down firmly—if he goes stout
in his canter and strong in his gallop, his owner rides
boldly. If, however, the very same hero crosses a poor,
weak, weedy animal, with strait action, tripping in all his
paces, and with his toes sending almost every loose stone
rolling on before him, he declares the instant he dismounts
that he has been frightened ; which difference, in truth,
only means that, on trial, he has satisfactorily and unsatis-
factorily ascertained the physical powers of the first horse
to be amply sufficient, and those of the last totally insuffi-
cient, to perform the given amount of work he requires.

Now it is really no exaggeration to say, that the excite-

154 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

ment to a horse caused by the presence of hounds creates
in his physical powers as wide a difference as exists be-
tween those of the two nags just described. The old,
jaded, worn-out, “grogzy” hunter, who came hobbling
out of his stable, and who has been fumbling and blunder-
ing under his groom along the road, no sooner reaches the
covert side than, like a lion “shaking the dew-drops from
his shaggy mane,” he in a moment casts away the ills
which flesh is heir to—in short, his prostrated powers
suddenly revive; and accordingly it is on record, that
in one of the severest runs with staghounds ever known
in Essex, the leading horse was aged, twenty-two. Again,
on the road, when a horse has travelled thirty or forty
miles, he usually becomes more or less tired; whereas,
during the ten or twelve hours that a hunter is out of
his stable, he will, with the utmost cheerfulness, besides
trotting more than that distance on the road, follow the
hounds for many hours across a heavy country and large
fences ; and as it is well known that, in harness, a horse
is less fatigued by trotting before a carriage on a hard
macadamized road for forty miles than in dragging it
through an earth road for ten, it would appear almost
fabulous to state how many miles on the road, or espe-
cially on dry turf, could be performed by the amount of
excitement, activity, and strength expended by a hunter.

during a long and severe day’s work.

EFFECTS CAUSED BY THE SIGHT OF HOUNDS. 155

For the foregoing reasons, if a man during summer
rides his hunters, he will see a variety of fences which,
as he quietly ruminates, he will pronounce to himself to
be impracticable, simply because he can both see and feel
that they are greater than the powers he is bestriding ;
and yet, when the trees are leafless and the hounds run-
ning, if he happens on the same horse to come to these
very fences, he crosses them without the smallest thought
or difficulty—not because he is excited (for the cooler he
rides the better he will go), but because, while the height
and breadth of each fence have not since he last saw
them increased, the physical powers of his horse, deve-
loped by hunting, have been, to say the least, doubled.
The scales which in summer had turned against him
now preponderate in his favour ; and accordingly Pru-
dence, who but a few months before, with uplifted hand,
had sternly warned him to “ beware!” with smiling face
and joyous aspect now beckons to him to “ Come on!”

The feats which the mere skin and bones of a horse
can perform during hunting are surprising. The com-
paratively small shin-bone of his hind legs will, without
receiving the smallest blemish, smash any ordinary
description of dry oak or elm-rail, and occasionally shiver

the top of a five-barred gate, and yet, strange to say,

-though the frail bone so often fractures the timber, the

timber is never able to fracture the frail bone, which,

156 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.
a ee ee a

generally speaking, receives not the smallest injury from

org

the conflict. Again, when even a singed horse at great

speed has forced his way through a high, strong, spiteful-

looking thorn-hedge, frightening almost into hysterics the ©

poor little “bullfinch” that is sitting there, he almost
invariably passes through the ordeal with his skin per-
fectly uncut, and often not even scratched !—nay, a
horse going at great speed may be thrown head over
heels by a wire fence without receiving from it the
smallest blemish !

The trifling facts we have just stated will, we believe,
not only explain the courage and physical powers of
a hunter, but the difficulty of describing to non-hunting
readers, without an appearance of exaggeration, the feats
which, during a run, he can without danger or difficulty
perform ; for, instead of boasting about a large fence, it is
an indisputable fact that it is infinitely safer for the
horse, and consequently for his rider, than a little one,
at which almost all their worst accidents occur: indeed
when a liberal landlord, for the benefit of his tenants,
cuts through their fields a series of narrow deep drains,
to be loosely filled up with earth, it is good-humouredly
said by hunting men, that he is “collar-boning” them!

And now it is an extraordinary truth that the excite-
ment which the horse feels in simply witnessing the chase

of one set of animals after another, seems to pervade

EFFECTS CAUSED BY THE SIGHT OF HOUNDS. 157

every living creature on the surface of the globe. In
savage life, the whole object, occupation, and enjoyment
of man, whenever he is not engaged in war, consists in
catching and killing almost any of the creatures that
inhabit the wilderness through which he roams. In a
drop of putrid water a microscope informs us that animal-
cules of all shapes and sizes, with the same malice pre-
pense, are hunting and slaying each other. The 600
boys at Eton, if collected together, would resolve readily
among themselves to receive with decorum, and no doubt
with youthful dignity, any great personages about to
honour them with a visit; and yet, while the grand
procession was approaching them, or even just after it had
arrived, if a rat were to run about among them, all their
good intentions in one moment would be destroyed.
During the grand reviews in France of the Alhed
armies under the command of Wellington, although the
British troops had behaved steadily enough at Waterloo,
it was found that the presence and authority of “the
Tron Duke” were utterly unable to keep them immoveable

as soon as the hares began to jump up among them.

Nay, at Inkerman, while the battle was raging, several

men of the Guards were observed by their officers sud-
denly to cease firmg at the Russians, who were close
to them, in order to “prog” with their bayonets a poor

little scared hare that was running among their feet!

158 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

In like manner, although the Anglo-Saxon race are

proverbially phlegmatic (a word described by Johnson to —

mean “dull; cold; frigid”), yet no sooner do they hear,
in the language of Shakspeare,
““The musical confusion

Of hounds and echo in conjunction,”
than the windows of manufactories are crowded with
pale eager faces, the lanes, paths, and fields become
dotted with the feet and ankles of people of various classes
and ages, whose eyes are all straining to get a glimpse
of the run. If Dolly be among them, her cow, wherever
she may be, is quite as curious as herself.

As the fox, who has distanced his pursuers, lightly
canters along the hedge-side of a large grass field, the
sheep instantly not only congregate to stare at him, but
for a considerable time remain spell-bound, gazing im
the direction of his course. Herds of bullocks with
noses almost touching the ground, and with long straight
tails slanting upwards, jump sometimes into the air, and
sometimes sideways, with joy. As soon as the hounds
appear, the timid sheep instantly follow them, and
accordingly, almost before the leading rider can make
for and get through perhaps the only gap in an imprac-
ticable fence, eighty or a hundred of these ‘ muttons,”
with fat, throbbing, jolting sides, rush to and block up
the little passage, im and around which they stand,

a

q

EFFECTS CAUSED BY THE SIGHT OF HOUNDS. 159

forming a dense mass of panting wool, on which no blow
from a hunting-whip or from a hedge-stake produces
the slightest effect ; and thus the whole field of gentle-
men sportsmen, to their utter disgust, are completely
stopped. “ J had no idea,” lisps a very young hard-riding
dandy, in as feminine and drawling a voice as he can
concoct, ‘‘ I really hadn’t the sLicutest idea, before, that
sheep were such

fools!” But their offspring are,
in their generation, no wiser. <A poor little lamb, almost
just born, the instant it sees the hounds, will not only
leave its mother to follow them, but under the legs of
a crowd of horses—that if they can possibly avoid it
will never tread upon it—canters along, until, its weak
knees and lungs failing, it reels, and is left lying on its

side, apparently dead.

; } CRUELTY OF HUNTING CONSIDERED.

Over the closed eyes, panting flank, and exhausted
frame of this tiny, mnocent, and yet seduced orphan, who
had never known its father, and has just lost its mother,
we will venture to offer to our readers a very few remarks
on the strange dissolving view that has just vanished, or
rather galloped, from their sight.

160 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

“It’s just,” said Andrew Fairservice to Frank Osbaldistone,
‘famaist as silly as our auld daft laird here and his gomerils 0°
sons, wi’ his huntsmen and his hounds, and his hunting cattle
and horns, riding haill days after a bit beast that winna weigh sax
punds when they hae catched it.”

To the foregoing observation it might also have been
added, that in the extraordinary exertions we have
described, the pleasures enjoyed by the ‘‘bit beast” in
being hunted, when compared with those of the two or
three hundred animals, human, equine, and canine, that
are hunting him, are as disproportionate as is his weight
when compared to the sum total of theirs.

« No!” said the haughty Countess of to an aged

huntsman, who, cap in hand, had humbly invited her
ladyship to do him the honour to come and see his
hounds, “‘ Wo! I dislike everything belonging to hunting
—it is so cruel.”

“«CrUEL!!” replied the old man, with apparent astonish-
ment, “why, my lady, it can’t possibly be CRUEL, for,”
logically holding up three fingers in succession,

“< We all knows that the GENTLEMEN Like it,

“ And we all knows that the nosskEs like it,

* And we all knows that the HouNDS like tt,

* And,” after a long pause, ‘‘none on us, my lady,
can know for certain, that the FOXES don’t like it.”

It may strongly be suspected, however, that they do
not enjoy being hunted to death, and consequently that

CRUELTY OF HUNTING CONSIDERED. 161

the operation, whenever and wherever it is performed,
is, to a certain degree, an act of cruelty ; which it is only
hypocritical to vindicate by pretending to argue that
Puggy has been sentenced to death to expiate his sins ;
for if, instead of robbing a hen roost, it had been his
habit to come in all weathers secretly to sit on its nests
to help and hatch the chickens, ‘“ The Times” news-
paper would have advertised ‘“ hunting appointments ”
which would have been as numerously attended,—the
hounds would have thrown off with the same punctuality,
—and men and horses would have ridden just as eagerly
and as gallantly to be in at the death of the saint as of a
sinner, whose destruction all barn-door fowls, geese, tur-
keys, pheasants, and rabbits in his neighbourhood would
certainly not be disposed to regret.

As regards, however, the hunted animal, as well as
the creatures that hunt him, we will observe that the
suffermgs of a fox that is eaten up by hounds are pro-
bably not much greater and possibly a little less than
those of the poor worm that on our hook catches the fish,
—of the fish that catches the worm,—of the live eels
that we skin,—or of the sheep and bullocks that are every
day in thousands driven footsore to our slaughter-houses.

If our Arthingworth fox had taken in ‘“ The Times,”
the Waterloo covert, after all the preparations we have
described, would most certainly have been drawn “ blank.”

L

162 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

But while undertakers in scarlet, in black, and in brown
coats, were expending many thousand pounds in pre-
parations for his funeral, he, totally unconscious of them,
was creeping within it, in the rude health and perfect
happiness he had enjoyed in Leicestershire, his native
county.

All. of a sudden he hears disagreeable sounds, and
encounters unpleasant smells, that sentence him without
delay “to return to the place from whence he came.”
With elastic limbs, and a stout heart to propel them,
“away” he starts) Everything he does evinces extraor-
dinary resolution, determination, and courage. While the
high-bred hounds that are following him over-top every
hedge, he dashes through their boughs, thorns, and briars,
as straight as an arrow from a bow. When, on reaching
the ‘‘earth” he has been making for, he finds that it 1s
stopped, instead of weakly dwelling there, “away” he
again starts for some other cunning hidingplace. As he
proceeds, his wind, but not his courage, fails him, until,
on the pack approaching him, though any one of them
would have yelped piteously had but one of his toes
been caught in a trap, yet, so soon as the leading hound
comes up, he pitches into him, and when the infuriated
pack rush in upon him, he invariably dies in the midst
of them, without the utterance of the smallest moan,

sigh, or sound. In fact, within the breasts of all who have

THE LAMB AND THE FOX. 163

pursued him there does not exist a braver heart than
that over which the huntsman, cracking his whip to keep
the hounds at bay from it, is triumphantly crying ‘* WHoo-
oop!” *

THe LAMB AND THE Fox.

But the plot of our drama thickens. For on the green
carpet of our little theatre, on which so many actors have
been performing, there now lie tragically before us, as it
were side by side, the body of a swooned lamb, and the
carcase of a dead fox. Let us therefore for a moment
place each into one of the scales of Justice, to weigh
the relative specific gravities of these two tiny emblems—

* Some seasons ago the master of the Pytchley determined “to give to
the hounds” a fox that had run to ground in a narrow culvert commu-
nicating with the Reservoir at Maidwell.

To prevent the poor animal escaping from his doom, the hounds were made
to surround the mouth of the drain before the order was given to “lift up
the sluice.”

On the words being uttered the eyes of all the riders who encircled the
pack were, of course, concentrated on one point. A slight noise was heard,
some dead sticks appeared, followed by a violent rush of water, in the
midst of which, rolled up like an immense hedgehog, appeared the fox, who
no sooner got into daylight, than, before a hound could snap hold of him, he
jumped to the left, and, at almost the same instant, popping through the
only little hole in the thick hedge that bounded the drain, burst away, dis-
tanced the pack of enemies, quadruped and biped, that followed him, and thus
escaped a death from which nothing but his extraordinary quickness and deter-
mination could have saved him.

Fer:

164 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

the one of innocence, the other of guilt—as regards their
utility to man.

When a lamb has been nursed, reared, fattened, and
killed, its quarters afford say four good dinners, or possibly
one dish only at four great dinners, and as soon as, either
above stairs or below, his bones have been cleanly picked,
the history of his usefulness is at an end. But the
benefits which a fox confers upon his country would,
though stewed down for hours, require very many more
dishes to contain them.

If an individual migrates in search of happiness, he not
only may travel many a weary mile without attaining it,
but sooner or later, foot-sore, leg-wearied, and dejected,
he will be sure to discover that a very small proportion
of the trouble, time, and money he has expended would
have procured for him at home contentment or peace
of mind, the greatest of all earthly blessings. For truly
may it be said, that there exists nothing in a garden or
in a field more easy to cultivate than domestic happiness,
composed, as we all know, of innumerable small fibres,
which, by the laws of Nature, taking root m every direc-
tion, attach a man, like Gulliver in the island of Lilliput,
to the ground on which he has happened to take rest.

A cynic may sneer at the rich man who, with his own
hands, and with bent back, sows flowers 6 deck his path,

and who plants trees to grace shrubberies to harbour the

THE LAMB AND THE FOX, 165

birds that are to sing to him, He may despise him for
delving and digging, for carpentering, lathe-turning, and
for other labour which a paid workman could infinitely
better perform. But if this labour sweetens the cup of
human existence, by giving that health to the body,
which invigorates the mind for its studies—in short, if
this mixture of physical and mental exertion results in
producing contentment, the labourer, however high his
rank, without deigning to revile the philosopher, may
justly return thanks to that Almighty Power which, by
such simple means, has enabled him, by dulcifying his
*‘domum,” to produce for himself domestic happiness.

As, however, what is good for the parts must also
be beneficial for the whole, it must be evident that, in
spite of the sneers of the cynic, it is equally wise for a
people to foster and encourage among themselves any
description of healthy recreation or amusement that may
_have the effect of creating among the community not only
a friendly acquaintance with each other, but an indissolu-
ble attachment to “the land they live in.” Indeed, if
this salutary precaution were to be neglected, lamentable
consequences must ensue ; for, like two merchants dealing
in the same article, so do Virtue and Vice strenuously
compete against one another, by each, at the same moment,
offering to mankind, pleasures for sale.

The great cities of the Continent, especially Paris, in

166 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

this respect possess powerful attractions, which, unless
they were to be neutralized or rather counteracted by
national attachments of still greater power, would inevit-
ably drain from the United Kingdom, especially from the
country, a large proportion of those wealthy classes whose
presence, expenditure, and charity have proved so bene-
ficial to their respective neighbourhoods. In lke manner,
as Nature abhors a vacuum, so, if the affluent among the
middle and lower classes, with a little money and leisure
on hand, were to find themselves without some whole-
some recreation, it is proverbial that a certain sable
personage, who delights in idleness, would very soon, in
his own service and in his own peculiar way, “set them
to work.”

But however wise it may be for an individual within
his own precincts to create recreation to suit his particular
palate, it is not so very easy to concoct any amusement
that shall be pleasing to the taste of many ranks of the
community as well as be generally beneficial to the whole.

A public racket-court or fives-court can only contain a
very small party.

The far-famed national game of cricket (the stock in
trade of which consists of a ball, some bats, half-a-dozen
stumps, and eleven players) is adapted only to that bright,
joyous, sunshiny half of the year, which, with its flowers

and fruits, hardly requires to be enlivened, leaving the

‘

— |

THE LAMB AND THE FOX. 167

dreary months of winter totally unprovided with amuse-
ment.

What therefore, pro bono publico, we require is to
invent, if possible, some description of national recreation
which, in all weathers, shall concentrate in groups over
the whole superficies of the kingdom, people of all con-
ditions, from the highest ranks down to the lowest, to
join together in a healthy, manly, harmless sport, requiring
coolness, good temper, science, and resolution: and lastly,
which shall manure, or top-dress, the entire surface of
the country by broad-casting over it, annually, a large
amount of gold, silver, and copper.

Now the invention of hunting produces all these bene-
ficial results. At the appointed meet, classes in ordinary
life as distinctly separated from each other as the various
castes in India, first assemble together, and then, during a
good run, are jostled together in lumps, and by bumps,
which, by collision, produce many a spark of generous
feeling that, under ordimary circumstances, could not
possibly have been elicited. For instance, not very long
ago, during a run in Leicestershire, a well-dressed, good-
looking young stranger was seen to pull up, dismount,
and run to the assistance of an old man lying under a
horse that was struggling violently above him. In extri-
cating the prisoner the liberator was repeatedly kicked.
However, although his flesh and coat were cut, and a

168 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

silver flask flattened in his breast-pocket, he resolutely
effected his object and then cantered away. “ Who's
that?” said a gentleman to a farmer who had gallantly
assisted in the extrication. ‘I don’t know his name,”
was the reply, ‘but, whoever he is, he stuck to him like
a RIGHT GOOD ’UN!” About a month afterwards it tran-
spired that the ‘right good ’un,” who had risked his life
to help one he never before saw, and whom probably he
will never see again, was Lord C., now Marquis of H.,
and heir to the dukedom of D. In the hunting field,
unfettered by prescriptive rights or privileges, the head
and heart of man rise or sink to that level, whatever it
may be, that intrinsically is their due. In short, irre-
spective of parentage, education, or income, any rider may
assume whatever position he can take, and, so long as he
leads, no one can prevent his wearmg the honours, what-
ever they may be, of the day.

Hunting is generally accused of being a very dangerous
amusement, and yet by medical returns it might easily
be demonstrated that it is not so injurious to a man’s
health or so fatal to his life as going to a succession of
balls, or especially of good dinners; in fact, there can be
no doubt that a London season blanches, per cent. per
annum, more cheeks, and requires more physic and more
coffins, than a hunting season.

How little danger, instead of how much, belongs to

THE LAMB AND THE FOX. 169

hunting, is daily proved by, comparatively speaking, the
impunity with which inexperienced people join in the
chase. If a crowd of 150 or 200 persons of all ages and
shapes, none of whom had ever before been in a boat,
were all of a sudden, say during Christmas holidays, to
dress themselves like tars, and then compete with sailors
in every sort of weather, the chances, or rather the cer-
tainty, would be, that, without any disparagement to the
art of boating, at least half of them would be drowned
from sheer ignorance and inexperience. Again, if an
eccentric gentleman in London, making his coachman
stand up behind his carriage, were to require his foot-
man to drive it, the vehicle, before it could reach the
Opera-house, would probably be either smashed or upset ;
and yet, its fate would not be admitted as proving that
it is dangerous to drive. In fact, it is a common proverb,
that, in order to be proficient in any trade, it is necessary
to be first duly apprenticed to it. But in the hunting-
field no education at all is deemed requisite. And,
accordingly, so soon as a young man, “ gentle or simple”
(though oftener simple than gentle), can get hold of
money, he buys a stud of horses and hacks, hires grooms,
orders three or four scarlet coats with the appurtenances
thereto, goes to Melton, makes his formal appearance at
a crack meet, and his informal disappearance into the first

brook, or on the other side of the first fence he comes

170 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

to, and yet, “ Oh! pray catch that horse if you please!”
is usually the only result, repeated over and over again
without injury to anybody. Now, if people who really
have never learned to ride, mounted on young horses
who have never learned to hunt, can thus attempt to
follow hounds without damaging much more than their
clothes, it ought to follow that an experienced rider on
a clever hunter has, at all events, not more danger to
apprehend than other people are liable to, who ride solely
on hard roads, on which a horse is very apt to travel
carelessly, and always falls heavily. Will Williamson,
now upwards of eighty years of age, who has been hunts-
man to the Duke of Buccleugh for more than fifty years,
and whose worst accident was lately caused by being
overturned in a dog-cart, still follows his hounds; and,
in like manner, in every part of the kingdom are to be
found old men who, with very little to complain about,
have been hunting from their boyhood, and occasionally
from their childhood.

Charles Payne, the huntsman of the Pytchley, was
much damaged by being thrown out of a gig; while, a
short time ago, his head whip, who had fearlessly crossed

almost every fence in Northamptonshire, dislocated his

shoulder by slipping off a little deal table. The gallant |

master of the Tedworth hounds was severely injured in

his conservatory ; the huntsman of the Surrey fox-hounds

an

Aq

THE LAMB AND THE FOX. 171

within his house by a fall. Lastly, it may truly be
asserted, that, in hunting, more accidents occur from over
caution in riders than from a combination of boldness and
judgment ; indeed, if hunters could but speak, they would
often whisper to their riders, “Jf you keep taking such
affectionate care of MY HEAD, yow ll throw me DOWN.”

The encouragement given to farmers to breed horses of
the best description, the high prices paid to them for hay,
oats, beans, and straw; the sums of money expended for
the purchase or rent of hunting-boxes, lodgings, stables,
earriage-houses, &c., added to a variety of other incidental
expenses, large and small, amount to a grand total which
it would be less easy to underrate than exaggerate.

But besides the sums which hunting-men, by maintain-
ing from eight to fourteen hunters, with grooms and
strappers in proportion, distribute in their various locali-
ties, in almost every county men of rank and fortune step
forward to support, more or less at their own private cost,
a huntsman, one or two whips, hounds, and a stable full of
horses, for the recreation and amusement of the community.

With this generous object in view, the late Sir Richard
Sutton, for many years, spent about 10,0007. a-year in

“maintaining two packs of hounds and a stud of about fifty
horses, for which he readily paid enormous prices.

In any portion of the globe, except the United King-
dom, the price of dog-flesh in England would appear

uy 4 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

utterly incomprehensible. In 1812 Lord Middleton gave —
1200 guineas for the pack he purchased. When Mr,
Warde gave up the Craven country Mr. Horlock paid
him 2000 guineas for his hounds; while Lord Suffield —
coolly handed over to Mr. Lambton 3000 guineas for his”
pack without seeing them. To Mr. Conyers the master
of the Tedworth hounds offered for ‘ Bashful” 100 gui-
neas ; and for another bitch, called “Careful,” 400 guineas, —
or 10,080 frances; a sum which, in any village in France,
would be considered for a peasant girl—though neither
bashful nor careful—a splendid marriage portion.

Before Sir Richard’s death, Lord Alford, Lord Hope-
toun, Lord Southampton, and, since his decease, Lord
Stamford, who keeps seventy horses, have come forward to
bestow upon the hunting counties around them the same
noble and munificent assistance which, on a smaller scale,
is as liberally given in many other localities; and yet,
without one minute item, the sum total of the enjoyment,
the recreation, the health, the good fellowship, the hard
riding, the enormous sums of money distributed over the
United Kingdom to maintain that ancient, royal, loyal,
noble, and national sport which seriatim we have endea-
voured to describe would suddenly be annihilated, were
we but to lose that tiny unclean beast, that dishonest
little miscreant that everybody abuses—THE Fox.

Lille Sacet.

THOMAS ASSHETON SMITH. 173

But the scene suddenly shifts,——a small cracked bell

in a violent hurry rings,

the slight shuffling of a few

running-away feet is heard, the green curtain which

scarcely half a minute ago had dropped slowly rises,
‘and in the centre of the little stage there now appears,
reposing by itself, a white wicker cradle containing a
new-born baby, who will rapidly grow before our readers
into a character intimately connected with the sayings
and doings, the scenes and incidents we are endeavouring
to describe.

THoMAS ASSHETON SMITH,

Born in Queen Anne Street, Cavendish Square, London,
on the 2nd of August, 1776, was the grandson of
Thomas Assheton, Esq., of Ashley Hall, near Bowden,
in Cheshire, who assumed the name of Smith on the
death of his uncle, Captain William Smith, son of the
Right Honourable John Smith, Speaker of the House of
Commons in the first two Parliaments of Queen Anne,
and Chancellor of the Exchequer in the preceding
reign.

As Shakspeare, in his immortal history of the Seven
Ages of Man, briefly described the first as “the infant,

174 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

mewling, &c., in its nurse’s arms,” so of the childhood.

of Tom Smith the only occurrence we are enabled to )

record is that his mother, one day, found him lying on
his nurse’s lap, gasping like a tench just landed from a

pond.
“ What's the matter with the child?” she eagerly in-
quired.

“ Nothin,’ replied the calm nurse; “he’s doing
nicely.”

om, aaa F

As regarded the present tense, this answer was the —

truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Had,
however, the question been ‘‘ What Aas been the matter
with him?” with the same grammatical accuracy the
reply would have been, “If you please, Ma’am, he has
just thrown up a large pin,” which, unperceived, he
had managed to swallow.

On his reaching the second age of man—that is to say,
when he was but seven years old—he was sent “ with
his satchel and shining morning face” to Eton, where,
on his arrival, he found himself the youngest boy in the
school.

The busy,hive of the United Kingdom, we all know,
is divided into cells, in each of which, at this moment,
a raw material is being converted by labour into some
particular description of manufactured goods. In one

cell, a Minister of State is concocting, from crude evi-

THOMAS ASSHETON SMITH. 175

dence, a speech, a budget, or a despatch. In another
cell, a young woman, with a protuberant cushion on her
lap, covered by an intricate pattern, marked by pins with
heads of various colours, is as indefatigably labouring for
the welfare of her country by twirling, twisting, and
twiddling innumerable bobbins of fine thread into Honiton
lace. In other cells, workpeople are converting broad-
cloth into clothes, leather into shoes, horse-hair into wigs,
medicine into pills, lead into bullets, brass and tin into
cannon, iron into rifles, alkali and grease into soap.
Within what is called a “ scrap-mill,” by the power of
steam, controlled by a single man, broken bolts, bars,
nuts, nails, serew-pins, &c., are made to revolve, until by
rumbling, tumbling, rubbing, scrubbing, bruising, beating,
hustling, and jostling each other, all are turned out clean
and bright, fit to be welded together for any purpose that
may be required.

At Eton, by a similar process, about 600 boys of
all sizes and shapes—red-haired, white-haired, black-
haired ; long-legged, short-legged, bandy-legged ; splay-
footed, pigeon-toed; proud, humble, noisy, silent, good-
humoured, spiteful, brave, timid, pale-faced, sallow-faced,
freckled and rosy-cheeked, weak and strong, clever and
stupid, pliable and pigheaded—yet all controlled by that
unwritten, immutable, imperishable code of honour which,

like a halo, has always illuminated their play-ground and

176 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

their school, are hustled together on water, in water,
under water, and out of water, until, when the door of
their scrap-mill is opened—although their minds and
bodies are as dissimilar as ever—they all turn out
polished gentlemen, prepared to encounter those hard-
ships, dangers, vicissitudes, difficulties, and, above all,
base temptations in life, which high-bred principles are so
especially well adapted to resist.

For eleven years Tom Smith remained at this school,
where he acquired a taste for classical literature, which
characterised him through life. Pope, Shakspeare, and
Horace, from which he used to quote long passages, were
his favourite authors; he could also, without pressure,
spout out the whole of the Epistle of Eloisa to Abelard.
But what reigned at the back of his head and in the
citadel of his heart was an ardent love for athletic exer-
cises of any description, especially for cricket and boating,
He was also, throughout his whole life, affectionately
attached to fighting; and Etonians, old and young, to
this day, record, as one of the severest contests in the his-
tory of youthful pugilism, the desperate battle he fought
with Jack Musters, a kindred spirit, of whom it has
been said that he could do seven things—namely, ride, —
fence, fight, swim, shoot, play at cricket and at tennis—
as well as any man in Europe. His pugilistie propen-
sity, which appeared so early, was conspicuous through-

a

J

=

THOMAS ASSHETON SMITH. 177

out his life. While hunting in Leicestershire he was
prevailed upon to stand for the borough of Nottingham.
On proceeding to the poll, he found not only the town
placarded with “No foxhunting M.P.,” but a guy in a
red coat, tailed by a fox’s brush, burning in effigy of
him before the hustings. His appearance there elicited
tremendous yells and hootings, which apparently no
authority could subdue, until, with a stentorian voice,
heard above the uproar, Tom Smith exclaimed, ‘“ Gen-
tlemen! as you refuse to hear my political principles,
be so kind as to listen to these few words: JU fight
any man among ye, little or big, and will have a round

- with him now for love!” In an instant, as if by magic,

yells and groans were converted into rounds of cheers,
demonstrating the strange stuff, be it good, bad, or indif-
ferent, that Englishmen are made of.

On another occasion, while riding down the Gallowtree

Gate, in Leicester, he struck the horse of a coal-heaver,

~ who, in return, cut him sharply across the face. Smith

jumped immediately from his horse, and the driver from
is cart, the latter doffing his smock-frock, the former
his cart, the latter doftfing 1 k-frock, the fi
ening his coat and turning up his sleeves. The conflic
buttening his coat and t g up his sl Ty flict
was desperate ; and from a fellow weighing fourteen stone,
and standing six feet high, he was receiving severe punish-

ment, when, by constables and a crowd of people, the

combatants were separated. “You shall hear from me

M

178 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.
ee ee !tt—~S “a
again!” said Smith to his gallant smutty antagonist.
True to his word, the next morning the squire’s groom

was seen inquiring where the coal-heaver lived. On

finding the man, whose face, like his master’s, had received
some heavy bruises, he said to him, “Mr. Smith has
sent me to give you this sovereign, and to tell you you're
the best man that ever stood before him.” “God bless ~
his honour!” replied the man, “ and thank him a thousand
times.”

When Tom Smith was at Eton, fighting had not cropped —
to the surface of a schoolfellow and friend who in after
life, known by the name of WELLINGTON, greatly dis-—
tinguished himself in this world by seeking and by
gaining pitched battles. ‘I suppose, Smith,” said the
old silver-haired Duke to him, one day, in London,
“you've done now with fighting 2” “Oh, yes,” replied |
Smith, then in his sixtieth year, “ I’ve quite given that |

*” suddenly correcting himself, he added, “Vil

up ; but
fight yet any man of my age.”

At Chapmansford, when upwards of seventy, a rough
country fellow, before a large field of sportsmen, threw a
stone at one of the hounds of the old squire, who instantly
struck him with his hunting whip. “ You daren’t do that
if you were off your horse,” said the man. The words
were hardly out of the clodhopper’s mouth when (in the
seventh age of man) Smith stood before him, with a pair

THOMAS ASSHETON SMITH. 179

of fists clenched in his face, in so pugilistic an attitude
that the fellow took to his heels, and, amidst the jeers of
his comrades, ran away.

In 1794 Tom Smith quitted Eton to become a gentle-
man commoner at Christ Church, Oxford, where, with
great diligence and assiduity, he hunted regularly in
Oxfordshire and Northamptonshire,—became a fearless
swimmer,—learnt to pull a sturdy oar on the Isis,—was a
good shot and billiard-player,—and excelled as a batsman
in the cricket-field on Cowley Marsh and Bullingdon.
On leaving the University he became a member of the
Marylebone Club and a regular attendant at Lord’s during
the summer ; he was also a member of the Royal Yacht
Club. » Mr. Smith’s love for science and shipbuilding
induced him to build several sailing and steam yachts.

He considered himself to be the practical originator of

the wave line, and, by the advice of the Duke of Wel-

lington, he submitted to the First Lord of the Admiralty
some important hints for improving the construction of
gunboats. In autumn, winter, and spring, he instinc-

?

tively ‘‘ went to the dogs,” or, as in sporting phraseology
it is termed, “took to hunting,” so eagerly, that in 1800,
when only twenty-four years old, he was signalized in
song as a daring rider in that celebrated run from Billesden
Coplow, in which but four gentlemen, with Jack Raven
the Whip, were able to live with the hounds.

M 2

180 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER. ,

In 1806 he succeeded Lord Foley at Quorn, and for
ten years hunted Leicestershire with first-rate hounds,
for a portion of which he had paid to Mr, Musters 1000
guineas, until, in 1816, he took the place of Mr. Osbaldis-
ton in Lincolnshire, where he hunted the Burton country
for eight years. He then, ceasing for two years to be
a master of hounds, hunted with the Duke of Rutland
and in the neighbouring counties until 1826, when, taking
up his residence at Penton Lodge, he created for himself
a new country between Andover and Salisbury. In 1830
—two years after the death of his father, from whom he
inherited a very large fortune—he removed to Tedworth,
which he had lately rebuilt with magnificent kennels, and
stables in which every hunter had a loose box. In these
stables he had often as many as fifty horses, all in first-

rate condition. For thirty-two years he hunted the Ted-

worth country without ever asking for subscriptions of”

any sort or kind. All he begged of the landowners and
of those who hunted with him was to preserve foxes to
enable him to kill them. At his meets his friend and
guest the late Duke of Wellington often attended. In
stature Mr. Smith was about 5 feet 10 inches high, athletic,
well-proportioned, muscular, but slight. His weight was
between eleven and twelve stone. Witha highly-intelligent
but resolute countenance, containing (as was observed of
it) “a dash of the bulldog,” he had plain features.

Le

Peake

THOMAS ASSHETON SMITH. 181

* That fellow Jack Musters,’ Tom Smith used to say,
* spoilt MY beauty.” For several years, though his name
was seldom found in the debates, he represented in
Parliament Carnarvonshire and Andover; and in 1832,
in consequence of the riots which took place in that
year, he raised, at his own expense, a corps of yeomanry
cavalry, reviewed by the Duke of Wellington, the troopers
of which were chiefly his own tenants or farmers of the
neighbourhood. For upwards of fifty seasons he con-
tinued to be the master of hounds, until, after having
been in his saddle for seventy years, the boy who in
1783 went to Eton when he was seven years old, died
at Vaenol on the 9th of September, 1858, aged eighty-
two.

At the earnest request of his widow, Sir John E.
Eardley-Wilmot (assisted by extracts from the ‘ Field’
newspaper), with considerable spirit and ability, has lately

compiled a series of graphic incidents and _ sketches,

forming altogether a memoir—or, as he terms them,

‘Reminiscences’—of the life of one whom Napoleon I,
addressed as “le premier chasseur d’ Angleterre,” and
who was also called by the Parisians “le grand chasseur
Suir.” From this volume we shall now submit to our
readers a few extracts.

** Lord Foley,” wrote ‘ Nimrod,’ “ was succeeded in the possession
of the Quorn hounds by that most conspicuous sportsman of modern

182 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

times, Thomas -Assheton Smith. As combining the character of a
skilful sportsman with that of a desperate horseman, perhaps his
parallel is not to be found; and his name will be handed down to
posterity as a specimen of enthusiastic zeal in one individual pursuit,
very rarely equalled. From the first day of the season to the last he
was always the same man, the same desperate fellow over a country,
and unquestionably possessing, on every occasion and at every hour
of the day, the most bulldog nerve ever exhibited in the saddle.
His motto was, ‘Tl be with my hounds;’ and all those who have
seen him in the field must acknowledge he made no vain boast of
his prowess. His falls were countless; and no wonder, for he rode
at places which he knew no horse could leap over ; but his object —
was to get, one way or the other, into the field with his hounds. As
a horseman, however, he has ever been superexcellent. He sits in —
his saddle as if he were part of his horse, and his seat displays vast —
power over his frame. In addition to his power his hand is equal to
Chifney’s, and the advantage he experiences from it may be gleaned
from the following expression. Being seen one day hunting his
hounds on Radical, always a difficult, but at that time a more than
commonly difficult, horse to ride, he was asked by a friend why he
did not put a martingale on him, to give him more power over
his mouth. ‘Thank ye,’ he replied, ‘but my left hand shall be my
martingale.’ ”

His fame and success in Lincolnshire were as great as
at Quorn. The Melton men followed him, knowing they
were sure of good sport wherever he went, although
scarcely one of them was quite prepared for the formidable
drains or dykes in the Burton Hunt. Shortly after their
arrival there, they found a fox near the kennels that
crossed a dyke called the Tilla. Tom Smith, the only
one who rode at it, got in, but over, leaving behind him

fourteen of the Meltonians floundering in the water at

THOMAS ASSHETON SMITH. 183

the same time, which so cooled their ardour that, excepting
Sir H. Goodricke, gallant David Baird, and one or two
others, they soon returned to Melton.

Mr. Delmé Ratcliffe, in his work on the ‘ Noble Science

of Fox-hunting,’ describes Tom Smith as follows :—

“T could nowhere find a more fitting model for the rising genera-
tion of sportsmen. . . . He was an instance of the very rare
union of coolness and consummate skill as a huntsman, combined
with the impetuosity of a most desperate rider; and not only was
he the most determined of all riders, but equally remarkable as a
horseman.

“Now I am not going to give merely my own opinion of Mr.
Thomas Assheton Smith, as a horseman and rider to hounds, but
shall lay before my readers that of all the sporting world, at least
all who have seen him in the field ; which is, that, taking him from
the first day’s hunting of the season to the last, place him on the
best horse in his stable or on the worst, he is sure to be with
his hounds, and close to them too, In fact, he has undoubtedly
proved himself the best and hardest rider England ever saw, and
it would be vain in any man to dispute his title to that character.”

Again, says Mr. Apperley—

“Let us look at him in his saddle. Does he not look like a
workman? Observe how lightly he sits! No one could suppose
him to be a twelve-stone man. And what a firm hand he has
on his horses! How well he puts them at their fences, and what
chances he gives them to extricate themselves from any scrape
they may have gotten into! He never hurries them then; no
man ever saw Tom Smith ride fast at his fences, at least at large
ones (brooks excepted), let the pace be what it may; and what a
treat it is to see him jump water! His falls, to be sure, have
been innumerable; but what very hard-riding man does not get
falls? Hundreds of Mr. Smith’s falls may be accounted for:

184 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

he has measured his horses’ pluck by his own, and ridden at
hundreds of non-feasible places, with the chance of getting over
them somehow.”

Again: “No man,” says Dick Christian, ‘ that ever
came into Leicestershire could beat Mr. Smith—I do not
care what any of them say ;” while “ The Druid,” in ‘ Silk
and Scarlet,’ after giving some very interesting anecdotes
of Tom Smith, says of him, “* However hasty in temper
and action he might be in the field or on the flags, he
was the mightiest hunter that ever ‘ rode across Belvoir’s

sweet vale’ or wore a horn at his saddle-bow.”

“His wonderful influence,” he adds, ‘‘over his hunters was
strongly exemplified at another time, but in rather a different
manner. He had mounted a friend, who complained of having
nothing to ride, on his celebrated horse Cicero. The hounds were
running breast-high across the big pasture lands of Leicestershire,
and Cicero was carrying his rider like a bird, when a strong flight
of rails had almost too ugly an aspect of height, strength, and
newness for the liking of our.friend on his ‘mount.’ The keen
eye of Assheton Smith, as he rode beside him, at once discerned
that he had no relish for the timber, and seeing that he was likely
to make the horse refuse, he cried out, ‘ Come up, Cicero!’ His

well-known voice had at once the desired effect; but Cicero’s —

rider, by whom the performance was not intended, left his ‘ seat’
vacant, fortunately without any other result than a roll upon the
grass.”

“1 have said,’? remarks Nimrod, “that Mr. Smith’s make and
shape, together with a fine bridle-hand, have assisted him in rising
to perfection as a horseman.”

“* T once saw,” relates a friend, “a fine specimen of Mr. Smith’s
hand and nerve in the going off of a frost, when the bone was not
quite out of the ground. We were running a fox hard over Salis-

99

ai nila &

aT Ta

THOMAS ASSHETON SMITH. 185

bury Plain, when all at once his horse came on a treacherous flat,
greasy at top, as sportsmen say, but hard and slippery underneath.
The horse he rode was a hard puller, and very violent, named
Piccadilly ; and the least check from the bridle, when the animal
began to blunder, would have to a certainty made him slip up.
Here the fine riding of the squire shone conspicuously. He left
his horse entirely alone, as if he were swimming; and after floun-
dering about and swerving for at least a hundred yards, Piccadilly
recovered himself, and went on as if nothing had happened.”

** At the end of a desperate run, he once charged the river Wel-
land, which divides the counties of Leicester, Northampton, and
Rutland, and is said to be altogether impracticable. The knack he
_ had of getting across water is to be attributed to his resolute way of
riding to hounds, by which his horses knew that it was in vain to
refuse whatever he might put them at.”

One day when Smith was drawing for a fox on his
famous horse Fire-King, he came to a precipitous bank at
the end of a meadow, with a formidable drop into a hard
road. ‘ You can’t get out there, Sir,” said a civil farmer.
“I should like very much to see the place where WE”
(patting Fire-King) “cannot go,” was the reply, as down
he rode, to the astonishment of the field.

“Tn falling,” says Sir J. Eardley Wilmot, “he always contrived
_ to fall clear of his horse, The bridle-rein, which fell as lightly as
breeze of zephyr on his horse’s neck, was then held as in a vice.
Ta some instances, with horses whom he knew well, he would ride
for a fall, where he knew it was not possible for him to clear a fence.
With Jack-o-Lantern he was often known to venture on this
experiment, and he frequently said there was not a field in Leices-
tershire in which he had not had a fall. ‘I never see you in the
Harborough country,’ he observed to a gentleman who occasionally
hunted with the Quorn. ‘I don’t much like your Harborough

186 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

country,’ replied the other, ‘the fences are so large.’ ‘Oh!’ ob-
served Mr. Smith, ‘there is no place you cannot get over with a
fall.” To a young supporter of his pack, who was constantly falling
and hurting himself, he said, ‘ All who profess to ride should know
how to fall?”

The author of ‘ Silk and Searlet’ says :—

“Tt was a great speech of Mr. Smith’s, if ever he saw a horse
refuse with his Whips, ‘ Throw your HEART over, and your horse
will follow. He never rode fast at his fences. I have heard him
say scores of times, ‘When a man rides at fences a hundred miles
an hour, depend upon it he funks.’”’ a

Sir William Miles confirms this statement :—

“Mr. Smith,” he remarks, “always said, ‘ Go slow at all Fences,
except water. It makes a horse know the use of his legs, and by so
riding he can put down a leg wherever it is wanted.’ ”

Long Wellesley had a horse which he declared no man
could see a run on. “He only requires a rider,” said
the squire. ‘ Will you ride him, then, at Glen Gorse?”
*‘ Willinely!” replied Smith, who, after several falls,

killing his fox, was presented with the animal, which

he accordingly named ‘“ Gift.”
The history of the education of Smith’s favourite horse,
Jack-o’-Lantern, is described as follows :—

“We were riding,” said Tom Edge, “to covert through a line
of bridle-gates, when we came to a new double oaken post and rail
fence. ‘This is just the place to make my colt a good timber
jumper,’ said the squire; ‘so you shut the gate, and ride away
fast. This was no sooner done than the squire rode at the rails,
which Jack taking with his breast, gave both himself and his rider

THOMAS ASSHETON SMITH. 187

‘such a fall, that their respective heads were looking towards the
fence they had ridden at. Up rose both at the same time, as if
nothing very particular had happened. ‘ Now,’ said Tom Smith,
‘this will be the making of the horse; just do as you did before,
and ride away.’ Edge did so, and Jack flew the rails without
touching, and from that day was a first-rate timber fencer.”

g, did Tom Smith

succeed in breaking a bone: once at Melton, when he

Only on two occasions, while huntin

consoled himself by learning arithmetic from the pretty
damsel at the post-office ; and afterwards, when one of
his ribs was fractured, owing, as he said, to his having

a knife in his breast-pocket :—

“And yet,” says Sir J. Eardley Wilmot, ‘‘ notwithstanding the
gallant manner in which he always rode, never turning from any
fence that intervened between him and his hounds, he never had
a horse drop dead under him, or die from the effects of a severe
day’s riding. It is also a fact well recorded that he was never
known to strike a horse unfairly. ‘How is it,’ asked a friend,
‘that horses and hounds seem never to provoke you?’ ‘ They are
brutes, and know no better, but men do,’ was the reply.”

The most extraordinary hunter in his stable, “‘ Ayston,”
was pigeon-toed, and so bad a hack, that he had to be led
to covert; and yet at no time would his master have
taken a thousand guineas for him.

After the famous Billesden Coplow run, in which
Tom Smith maintained so prominent a place, he sold the
horse he that day rode, called Furze-cutter, for which he
had given 26/7., to Lord Clonbrock for 4002.

The Rev. Francis Dyson, now rector of Creeklande, on

188 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

being ordained, was appointed to assist his father, the

clergyman at Tedworth :—

“Mr. Smith,” says Sir J. Eardley Wilmot, ‘ was so pleased with -
his first sermon, that, on coming out of church, he slapped the
young curate on the back, and said, ‘Well done, Frank! you
shall have a mount on Rory O’More next Thursday.’ Young ~
Dyson had many a run afterwards out of the squire’s stables, for
his performances in the field pleased as much as those in the
pulpit.

“Once, when the hounds were running short with a sinking fox, —
a person clad in a long black coat, and evidently thinking scorn —
of the fun, inquired of the Whip what the dogs were then doing. —
‘Why, Sir, said Dick Burton, throwing a keen glance down the
inquirer’s person, ‘they are preaching his funeral sermon.’ ”

In 1840 Tom Smith proposed to pay a visit to his
old friend Sir Richard Sutton, whose hunting had been
stopped by a severe accident. On hearing of this move-
ment, Mr. Greene of Rolleston, who had been one of his
best pupils in his Leicestershire days, requested him, in
his way to Lincolnshire, to bring his hounds once more
into his old country, Mr. Hodgson, who then hunted —
Leicestershire, having handsomely placed the best meet
at his disposal. The veteran, for he was then sixty- -
four, accepted the challenge, brmging with him eighteen
couples of his finest hounds, of great substance, open-
chested, and in splendid condition.

“Tt would be vain,” writes Sir J. Eardley Wilmot, ‘‘ to endeavour

to commemorate the scene which took place when Tom Smith, sur-
rounded by his hounds, met the field at Shankton Holt on Friday,

THOMAS ASSHETON SMITH. 189

the 20th of March. More than two thousand horsemen, one-third
of whom appeared in pink, were assembled. Men of the highest
birth and station, men who had served their country with deeds
of most daring gallantry by sea and land, men who in political
or social life were the most brilliant in repute, thronged to do
honour to the first fox-hunter of the day. They had come from
remote counties, and more were pouring in along the grassy slopes
and vales, or skirting the well-known gorse covers. As Dick Chris-
tian remarked, ‘the first lot were at Shankton Holt when the tail
end wern’t out of Rolleston gates.’ Cold must have been the heart
of him who could behold without joyous emotion the crowds of
grey-headed horsemen hurrying forward to shake hands with their
old friend and fellow-sportsman, each calling vividly to memory
some scene where he had acted the most conspicuous part. More
than twenty years had rolled away since he had resigned the lead
in that magnificent country. There had been splendid riders since
his day ; and while time had thinned the ranks of the veterans,
younger men had either achieved or were achieving fame—Frank
Holyoake, now Sir Francis Goodricke, well known for his splendid
feats on Brilliant; Colonel Lowther, Lord Wilton, Lord Archibald
_ Seymour, George Payne, Little * Gilmour, Lord Gardner, George
Anson, and a host of sportsmen, well deserving the reputation they
had won, yet all strangers to the doings of this hero of the Quorn,
except through anecdotes familiar to them as ‘bousehold words,’
In addition to these were a very goodly display of carriages-and-four
- filled with ladies, and pedestrians without number. The hounds
_ with Dick Burton were drawn up on the lawn, while the vast group
! of horsemen formed a circle, with the carriages and assembled crowd
outside. After the friendly salutations were over, and their enthu-
siastic character astonished no one but the Illustrious Stranger ¢
present, Mr. Smith took his hounds to Shankton Holt, where he
drew only the bottom of the covert; thence to Norton Gorse,
| Stanton Wood, Glooston Wood, and Fallow Close, all blank. It
|

* Like William of Deloraine, “‘ good at need,”
+ Prince Ernest, brother to Prince Albert.

190 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

was an unfavourable .day for scent,—a bright sun with north-
easterly wind, not a cloud to be seen, and the cold intense. A fox
having been found by Mr. Hodgson, in Vowes Covert, as already
stated, away went the hounds towards Horringhold, leaving Blasto
to the right. Here Mr. Smith took a strong flight of rails into a
road, quite like a ‘young ’un.’ The fox soon afterwards crossed the
Welland, and went away for Rockingham Park, where, it being late,
they whipped off.”

From 1830 to 1856—that is to say, until Tom Smith
had reached the age of eighty—with his indomitable

energy and undaunted courage he continued to hunt his
hounds at Tedworth, spending his summers at Vaenol
on board his yacht. His head was as clear and his hand
as firm as they had been twenty years ago. If he felt not
quite well in a morning, plunging his head into cold
water, he used to hold it there as long as he could, which
he said always put him to rights. It is true he had
curtailed his meets to four only a week, but on these
days the farmers were delighted to see “the old Squire”
vault on horseback, as usual, blow his horn while his
horse was carrying him over a five-barred gate, and, with
a loose rein, gallop down the sheep-fed hill-sides with all
the alacrity of a boy. But although the hourglass of his
existence appeared to be still as bright and clear as
ever, the sand within the upper portion of the crystal
was now running to its end. In September, 1856, while -
at his summer residence in North Wales, he was suddenly
seized with an alarming attack of asthma, which, by the

THOMAS ASSHETON SMITH. 191

use of stimulants and by the assiduous attention of Mrs.
Smith,—at this period herself in a very weak state of
health,—was so far subdued that on one of his horses
saddled appearing at the door—although five minutes
before he had been gasping for breath on the sofa—he
mounted the animal, and broke away, as if instinctively,
to seek for himself a stronger stimulant than his physician
could prescribe—the sight once again of his hounds.

“ Although,” writes Sir J. Eardley Wilmot, very feelingly, ‘“ he
_ rallied from this attack in an astonishing manner, he was no longer
the same man. ‘The erect gait was bent, and the eagle eye had lost
its lustre.”

The able writer of ‘ Silk and Scarlet’ gives the following
graphic and affecting description of Tom Smith the last
time he appeared at the meet with his hounds :—

“The covert side knew him no more after the October of 1857,
when he just cantered up to Willbury on his chestnut hack Blemish,
to see his hounds draw. Carter got his orders to bring the choicest
of the 1858 entry, and he and Will Bryce arrived at the usual
rendezvous with five couple of bitches by the Fitawilliam Hard-
wicke and Hermit. He looked at them a short time, and exclaimed,

‘WELL, THEY ’RE AS BEAUTIFUL AS THEY CAN BE,’ bade both his
men good-bye, and they saw him no more.”

He returned to Tedworth as usual—

“But,” writes Sir J. Eardley Wilmot, ‘at the annual meet on
the 1st of November, 1857, the hounds met without the accustomed
centre figure of their master, who slowly rode up to them without
his scarlet. He remarked, quite seriously, that if he had worn his

192 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

hunting gear, and his pack should observe that he could not follow
them, they would show their sorrow by refusing to hunt the fox.
A universal gloom pervaded the field; he looked wistfully and
lovingly at his old favourites, the heroes of many a well-fought
field; and as he quickly went back into the hall, shrinking almost
from the outer air, while the horsemen and pack turned away slowly
towards the shrubberies, every one felt with a heavy heart that the
glory of the old foxhunter had at length departed.”

The state of Mrs. Smith’s health having for many
years caused her husband great anxiety, in 1845, in
order, as he said, “ to bring Madeira to England,” he con-
structed for her at Tedworth a magnificent conservatory
or crystal palace, 315 feet in length and 40 in width,
in which, enjoying the temperature of a warm climate,
she might take walking exercise during the winter
months. A Wiltshire farmer, on first seeing this build-
ing, observed, he supposed it was for the "Squire to hunt
there whenever a frost stopped him in the field.

“It was a melancholy spectacle,” writes Sir J. Eardley Wilmot,
“‘to see Tom Smith the winter before his death, when he could no
longer join his hounds, mount one of his favourite hunters—Euxine,
Paul Potter, or Blemish—with the assistance of a chair, and take
his exercise for an hour at a foot’s pace up and down this conser-
vatory, often with some friend at his side to cheer him up and while
away the time until he re-entered the house, for he was not allowed
at that period to go out of doors. Even in this feeble condition,
‘quantum mutatus ab illo Hectore,’ once on horseback, he appeared
to revive; and the dexterity and ease with which he managed,
like a plaything, the spirited animal under him, which had scarcely
left its stable for months, was most surprising.”

THOMAS ASSHETON SMITH. 193

During the last days of his existence he rested rather
than took exercise on that noble animal the horse, which
for seventy years he had so resolutely and yet so consi-
derately governed. His mind, in its declining hours, had
also its support. ‘Throughout his life, without osten-
tation and often in secret, he had been charitable to
people of various conditions. Of the two thousand work-
men in his quarries, scarcely one of them had ever been
taken before a magistrate for dishonesty. Never was he
known, if properly requested, to refuse to give a site for
a church or even fora Dissenting chapel. Both he and
Mrs. Smith invariably went to church on foot, it beng a
rule with them never, except in case of illness, to have
either carriage or horse out on Sundays.

A few weeks after he had completed his eighty-second
year he had a sudden attack of the same symptoms which
had shaken him so severely in 1856. In a moment of
consciousness, evidently aware of his approaching end,
pointing to his faithful valet, he said to his devoted wife,
“Take care of that man!” and when Mrs, Smith left
the room, he said to her maid, “ Watch over your mis-
tress ; take care of HER.” <A few hours afterwards—

“* Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history ”—

on the 9th of September, 1858, while Mrs. Smith’s sister
was watching by his bedside, a slight change came over
N

194. THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

his countenance, but before the doctors or even his valet
could be summoned,—-with a gentle sigh expired Thomas
Assheton Smith, bequeathing, on half a sheet of writing-
paper, the whole of his vast possessions, producing from
50,0002. to 55,0002. a year, to his widow (who survived
him only a few months); and moreover leaving behind
him a name that will long be remembered not only by the
farmers and riding men of the counties he hunted, but
by all who are disposed fairly and justly to appreciate the
lights and shadows which constitute the character of
“The English Country Gentleman,” one only of whose
recreations we have endeavoured to delineate to our
readers in the foregoing slight sketches of those three
gallant animals—the Horsr, the Fox, and last, though
not least, the FOXHUNTER.

THE ROYAL ENGINEER TRAIN PRACTISING LASSO DRAUGHT.

To face page 195

ON MILITARY HORSE-POWER. 195

On Minitary Horsre-Power.

As the momentum or force of a shot is said to be its
weight multiplied by its velocity, so the strength of an
army may not unjustly be estimated by multiplying its
physical powers by the rate at which (if necessary) it can
be made to travel: in short, activity is to an army what
velocity is to a shot, or what the rigging of a vessel is
to its hull. But, although we refuse to increase the
weight of a shot unless we can proportionately preserve
our power to propel it, yet, in Kuropean warfare, this
principle, as regards the “ matériel” of an army, has not
always been kept in mind. Inventions have very easily
been admitted, which afterwards have not been so easy
to carry. It is true, they have added to the powers of
the army, but they have so diminished its speed, that,
encumbered by its implements and accoutrements, a
European, like an East Indian army, has often felt that
it requires less science to fight than to march ; and thus,
when Bonaparte, in his retreat from Moscow, was sur-
rounded by Cossacks, which his troops were unable to
erush only because they could not get at them, his well-
known confession proves that when the field is vast, and
its resources feeble, the distance between regular and
irregular warfare “is but a step,’—the reason being,

N 2

196 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

that the superior strength of the former is worn out by
the superior activity of the latter, or, as Marshal Saxe
expressed it, ‘‘its arms are of less value than its legs.”

Now, it is undeniable that this want of activity proceeds
partly from the weight of the “ matériel,” but princi-
pally from the following very remarkable imperfection
in the military equipment of Europe.

It is well known that not only every soldier, but every
human being following an army, is subject to military
discipline, and that his labour may, at any time, and
for any purpose, be required of him; but, although the
rational being is thus called upon to work with cheerful
obedience for the grand objects of the army, the physical
powers of the brute beast have never yet been developed ;
and accordingly for the various, sudden, and momentary
emergencies for which horse-power has often and urgently
in vain been required, horsé-power (the cavalry) to an
enormous extent has existed upon the spot, a military
element which it has hitherto been considered so imprac-
ticable to control, that the guns, ammunition, treasure,
&e., which European cavalry have oftentimes bravely
won, their horses have been supposed totally incapable
to carry away; and the laurel which was positively in
their hands they have thus been obliged to abandon.
Again, for sieges in countries which have been drained

by the artillery and cavalry, not only of horses, but of

ON MILITARY HORSE-POWER. 197

sustenance to maintain them, it has often been absolutely
necessary to bring forward, by bullocks and other ineffi-
cient means, the battering train, ammunition, entrenching
tools, materials, &c., amounting in weight, even for the
attack of a second-rate fortress, to several thousand tons.
In moments of such distress the infantry working in the
trenches have often severely suffered from the delay
occasioned by the want of horse-power, while their com-
rades, the cavalry, have been deemed incapable of sharing
the honour and fatigue of the day, from the anomalous
conclusion that, although it is easy to extract from men
manual labour, it is impossible to extract from horses
horse-power; and yet there exists no reason why, in
moments of emergency, cavalry horses should not be
required to work (most particularly at drag-ropes) as
well as infantry soldiers; for although the patient endur-
ance of hardships and privations is one of the noblest
features in military life, yet absolutely to suffer from
the want of what one positively possesses 1s, even in
common life, a discreditable misfortune, indicating not
bodily weakness, but mental imbecility.

Even in that noble department, the Horse Artillery
itself, there existed throughout the Peninsular War a
striking example of latent power which had never
been exerted. To each gun there were attached twelve
horses trained to draught. Of these, only eight possessed

198 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

the means of drawing: the gun might therefore, in
mechanical calculation, be said to be propelled by an
engine of eight horse-power; and if a morass, or any
other obstacle, over-balanced this power, the gun was
either deserted, or (as was customary) the infantry were
harnessed to it, by drag-ropes, in the immediate presence
of four draught-horses, whose powers (besides officers’
horses) it was conceived that we were unable to com-
mand.*

Now, to awaken, at no expense, the important, natural,
yet dormant powers, not only of cavalry but of all other
horses, and, consequently, to afford the means of acce-
lerating (when required) the movements, grand or small,
of an army, would surely be more beneficial than even
to suggest an improvement in its arms; for it may justly
be said that our present weapons are destructive enough
—that even if we could succeed in making them more
so, still our enemies would retort them upon us—that
the advantage, or rather the disadvantage, would then
be mutual—and that, eventually, war would only be
made still more destructive ; but by giving activity and
mobility to European armies, the science of war is pro-
moted; and even if the benefit to the civilized nations

* To the 12-pounder Armstrong gun (which sighted to 8° gives a range
of 3000 yards) are now attached eight horses in harness, and eight more on
which the non-commissioned officers and men, including horse holders, are
mounted. Of these, four are supplied with web breast harness and traces:
to a proportion of the remainder lassos are supplied.

ON MILITARY HORSE-POWER, 199

of Europe should be equal (but this, from the superior
size and strength of English horses, would evidently be
in our favour), yet it would at least shield the profession
from the disgrace of being again persecuted, in any
country, by an uncivilized army; and if the navy of
England, laden with its immense weight of metal, is
endeavouring, by science and reflection, to accelerate its
rate of sailing, so that it can not only stand against the
largest fleet, but can chase and run down the smallest
pirate, surely the British army, already distinguished
by its heart and its arm, should never rest satisfied
until it can sufficiently develop its locomotive powers
to be able to overtake and punish the insults of irregular
troops.

Having now endeavoured to prove, 1st, That in Euro-
pean warfare there positively does exist a serious imper-
fection; and 2ndly, That it is for the interest, and due
to the character, of the profession, that this imperfection
should be corrected, we will proceed to explain the
reasons which have lately induced the Duke of Cambridge
by the following order to direct the attention of the Bri-
tish cavalry to the practice of lasso draught, (which for
more than two years, by order of the Inspector-General
of Fortifications, General Sir John Burgoyne, has been
most successfully and scientifically adopted, by Captain

Siborne, R.E., commanding the Royal Engineer Train,

200 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

under the intelligent superintendence of Colonel Henry
Sandham, Director of the Royal Engineers’ Establishment
at Chatham.)

Extract from the Queen’s Regulations, page 126.

“In order that the cavalry may, upon emergencies, be
available for the purposes of draught, such as assisting
artillery, &c., through deep roads, and in surmounting
other impediments and obstacles which the carriages of
the army have frequently to encounter in the course of
active service, ten men per troop are to be equipped with
the tackle of the lasso.”

In Europe, Asia, Africa, North America, and a consi-
derable portion of South America, for every purpose of
drawing, a horse is confined between two traces; and
accordingly, whenever for the first time in his life he is
placed in this predicament, so soon as one of them touches
or tickles him on one side, he flies from it to the other
trace, which suddenly arrests him, and, usually blind-
folded by blinkers, being ignorant of, as well as alarmed
at, the unknown objects that are restraining him, he occa-
sionally endeavours to disperse them by kicking; and
even if he submits, it requires some little experience to
tranquillize his fears. For these reasons, throughout the
regions enumerated, a horse that has never been in har-
ness, however valuable he may be, is totally useless in a

moment of emergency for the purposes of draught.

ON MILITARY HORSE-POWER, 201

Now throughout that region of South America which
extends in 35° south latitude from Buenos Ayres on the
Atlantic, to Santiago and to Valparaiso on the Pacific
Ocean, harness is composed of nothing but a surcingle
and a single trace, by which the horse draws as a man
would drag a garden-roller, by one hand instead of by two.

By this simple mode all the merchandise, and all the
travellers that have ever traversed on wheels those im-
mense plains that separate the two great oceans of the
world, have been transported.

For military purposes its efficiency has been thus sub-
stantiated by General Miller in his history of ‘The War
for Independence :’—

‘Our corps consisted of ten six-pounders and one how-
itzer. Each gun was drawn by four horses, and each
horse ridden by a gunner, there being no corps of drivers
in the service. A non-commissioned officer and seven
drivers were, besides the four already mentioned, attached
to each piece of artillery. Buckles, collars, cruppers, and
breast-plates were not in use; the horses simply drew
from the saddle, and with this equipment our guns have
travelled nearly 100 miles in a day.”

But besides its efficiency for all the requirements of
either peace or war, the singular advantage of this simple
harness is that any description of horse, tame or wild,

uses it without noticing it; for if the single trace which

202 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

passes immediately beneath his hip bone happens (which
it ought not) to press against his side, by shrinking from
it only an inch it instantly ceases to touch him; and as
there then remains nothing to confine, tickle, or alarm
him, he refrains from kicking, simply because there is
nothing to kick at, and from quarrelling because he can

see nothing in the world to quarrel with.

With this equipment, if a party of native riders, hunting .
ostriches in South America, are requested to help the
horses of a carriage across a river, and up a steep bank,
similar, for instance, to that of the Alma, in a moment
they affix their lassos, conquer the difficulty, attain the
summit, and then, with tobacco smoke steaming from
their mouths, gallop away to follow their sport.

The Royal Engineer Train have demonstrated by
public experiments in this country, that with this
simple equipment, which would injure neither the efli-
ciency nor the appearance of the cavalry, any number
of horses, whether accustomed to draught or not, are
capable of bemg at once harnessed to any description of
carriage, not only (see sketch) in front to draw it forward,
but in rear to hold it back, or even sideways to prevent
its oversetting—in short, that it is a power which can
be made to radiate im any direction; and as its character
stands upon a much firmer foundation—as it is bond

jide the common mode of draught in South America—

ON MILITARY HORSE-POWER. 203

in constant use for all military and civil purposes—a
practical invention which, under all circumstances, has
been always found to answer, it is evident to demon-
stration,—1st. That if it can transport artillery, &c.,
across the lofty, vast, and rugged features of unculti-
vated America, it would surely be serviceable on the
roads and bridges of civilized countries. 2ndly, That if
it can be adapted to unbroken horses, it cannot be imap-
plicable to the trained horses of our cavalry. And, 3rdly,
That as both the surcingle and trace are made, in Ame-
rica, of nothing but the skins of bullocks, we should,
on active service, be able in all countries at least to
obtain this material, and generally many others.

It must, moreover, be observed, that as a mounted
horse (7. e. a horse and man) are heavier than an un-
mounted horse, the former with a lasso can drag a
heavier weight than the latter with a collar and traces.*

Now, supposing for a moment that not only our cavalry
were to be furnished with, but that every saddle-horse
receiving rations in a European army was to be ordered
to wear the South American surcingle (which costs less
than English girths and surcingle, and which experience
has proved to be, merely as a girth, superior to a common

* On active service, when a gun sticks in very heavy ground, it has been
usual to place a gunner upon every unmounted horse, and, if necessary,

behind every driver on the mounted ones. By this additional weight or
power a gun has repeatedly been eatricated and brought into action.

204 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER,

one), and to carry a halter of the usual regulation length,
but long enough for a single trace, without detailing the
various important as well as trifling services which might
be performed, is it not evident that the general activity
of the army would most materially be increased ? that,
in fact, this equipment would form an era in military
warfare ? that it would be an enormous, and, in Europe,
an unheard-of engine of say twenty or thirty thousand
horses’ power, which, at a moment’s warning, could
either be called forward or dismissed, and, after all, main-
tained at no expense whatever? for it must ever be kept
in mind, THAT WE POSSESS, AND ALWAYS HAVE POS-
SESSED, THE POWER; all that, for five and thirty years,
we have until lately in vain proposed, is—to rouse it into
action.

If the propriety and future utility of this project should
be admitted, there is one most important observation
to be made. The characteristic feature of this simple
harness is, that having been invented for unbroken horses,
it possesses the singular military advantage of being at
once applicable to any sort or description of horse, But
it is well known to every reflecting mind, that there is
no useful art which does not, somewhere or other, require
attention ; and to this general rule the American harness
is certainly no exception ; for though any horse will draw

in it, yet it does require, on the part of the rider, con-

ON MILITARY HORSE-POWER. 205

siderable experience and attention. ‘The single trace
must be managed in a particular manner, or, in turning,
it gets under the horse’s tail: unless it is properly held
in the hand at starting, the horse may break it by the
jerk. There are several other little precautions neces«
sary, most particularly in the mode of adjusting the
surcingle, which requires considerable practice and atten-
tion.

The many curious and indeed scientific applications and
combinations of power of which this simple harness is
capable, form a beautiful example of what even uncivilised
man can contrive when his attention has been long and
steadily directed to a solitary object. And surely the
ingenuity and practical experience of one nation are
worthy the patient attention of another. But the ap-
parent simplicity of many a useful invention has often
been its ruin; and this observation is most particularly
applicable to lasso harness, which is, im appearance, so
very simple, that it seems to require only to be seen to
be perfectly understood : yet, efficient as it is m America,
and efficient as it will be to any nation in Europe that
will give to its merits sufficient time and a fair trial,—
yet, on some little experience and reflection, it is most
confidently stated that, as a theory, it certainly is of no
use at all; and the truth of this observation will at once

be proved by the complete failure and confusion which

206 THE HORSE ‘AND HIS RIDER.

will inevitably take place if our cavalry try the harness
without first not only patiently but cordially and zealously
learning how to use it. Yet this ought not, im common
justice, to condemn the principle; for, could cavalry,
without some little instruction, succeed in driving even

with our own harness ?—Could French coachmen, without

practice, drive our mails?—Could our English postilions
drive the five horses of a French diligence? And if
driving is thus a science of many departments, it would
not be reasonable to expect that our cavalry should be

able to drive, merely because they have learnt to ride.

How to Hospsie AND ANcHOR HoRSEs.

“* Hard pummelling,” said the Duke of Wellington to
the Guards at Waterloo, “ Hard pummelling, Gentlemen !
Well, we must just see who'll pummel the HARDEST.”

During the reign of Brown Bess the great battles of
Europe were decided very much in the manner above
described.

Two armies met on a battle-field, or two fleets on
“‘the wide, rude sea,” as in England two prize-fighters
have entered a small space encircled by ropes, to “see

who'll pummel the hardest.” In all three cases, endur-

ia

HOW TO HOBBLE AND ANCHOR HORSES, 207

ance, indomitable courage, and physical strength sooner
or later conquered.

As, however, in mechanics, a timid, puny boy, with
the assistance of a pulley, could drag towards him Mars
or Hercules, so must the new arms of precision lately
invented, give victory, not to the bravest or the strongest,
but to whichever of two combatant armies shall exercise
their deadly weapons with the greatest amount of science.

And, as fortification has justly been defined “ the art
of enabling a small body of men to resist for a considerable
time the attack of a greater number,” so will, in future,
the science of war consist in the art of concealing by every
possible artifice the general commanding, his staff, his
artillery, cavalry, and infantry, from the fire of rifled
cannon and Minié muskets, of which, when properly
directed, it may be said that almost ‘every bullet will
have its billet.”

On this principle, if England were to be invaded, it
would be the endeavour and the duty of the general
on whose intellectual powers the destiny of the empire
would hang, to direct his army to take against their
enemy (after, in spite of his utmost efforts, they had effected
a landing), not, as in by-gone days, “the field,” but rather
possession of the banks, hedges, and ditches thereof; to
make every great mansion, building, or village, by loop-
holing their walls, a Hougoumont; every railway embank-

208 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

ment a covert-way and parapet ; every hollow road a pro-
tector or ambuscade for cavalry or infantry ; the scarped
summit of every hill a battery; in short, by avoiding
exposure, and by every means that ingenuity can devise,
to make the invaders, during every step of their advance,
smart under a lash, and fall from blows, administered
by a nimble, intellectual army which they feel, which
they are literally dying to see, but which is skilfully
continuing, out of their reach, to decimate their ranks,
in order that when the great battle is given, the in-
vading army—though infinitely superior when it disem-
barked—shall be reduced to a force inferior in number to
that of the stern, steady, stalwart defenders of their native
soil.

It is evident, however, that to carry on war on the
above principle, it will be necessary that cavairy, in their
equipment as well as drill, should undergo a complete
revolution, with a view to enable them in future, in addi-
tion to the use of their sabres, to help artillery with their
lassos,—act as mounted infantry,—in short, make them-
selves generally useful; for, at present, they form on a
field of battle so large a target, that under existing cir-
cumstances they would have, either out of harm’s way to
sit on their horses all day long waiting for an opportunity
not likely to occur, or be destroyed by rifled guns and
muskets before their services could be required : in fact,

HOW TO HOBBLE AND ANCHOR HORSES. 209

as it would be impossible for them to charge men in
squares, or even in position armed with muskets of un-
erring aim, they could be of little use until after the battle
was won, by following up the enemy in their retreat.

Now, instead of being the dearest and the most useless,
they would become the cheapest and most efficient branch
of the army, if, besides occasionally using their lassos to
help our Armstrong guns, &c., they had power to skim
along hollow roads, &c., to the vicinity of the summit of
a hill or any other position, from which, half or wholly
hidden, they could, with short Minié rifles, direct a
deadly fire upon an overwhelming amount of advancing
troops, from whom they could gallop away—only to re-
attack them—the instant it became prudent to do so.

But to enable cavalry or volunteer mounted yeomanry
to act in this manner, how, it will be asked, could they
manage to leave their horses ?

To this important question we will reply, not by any
theoretical project, but by a statement of facts, which,
though generally unknown in England, have for many
generations been in constant practice in other parts of the

world.

1. Throughout Russia, the Cossacks,—whenever for any
reason, small or large, they have wished to leave one
horse, or a regiment of horses, to stand alone, to ruminate

0

210 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

either in the snow or on a verdant plain—have, for ages,
been in the habit of, as it were, riveting them to the
ground, by tying together their two fore fetlocks by a
pair of hobbles, to the centre of which is affixed a nar-
row strap that buckles over the hock of one hind leg.
By this triangular apparatus (weighing less than one
pound), which out of four legs leaves only one at liberty,
the animal physically and morally is completely para-
lysed ; indeed he is not only unable to move away, but
after his first fall is afraid again to try to do so.

2. In South Africa, farmers and sportsmen of all de-
scriptions have long been in the habit of what they
term “ anchoring” their horses by a lump of lead, from
three to five pounds in weight, carried in a small pocket
buckled to the outside of their near or left holster.

To this “ anchor” is attached a piece of cord about ten
feet long, which, passing and running freely through both
rings of the curb bit, and hanging from them like a
loose rein, is fastened to a D or ring on the off-side of the
saddle.

No time need be lost in displacing the lead from its
pocket when necessary, as it can be jerked out on the
ground in the act of dismounting.

When a horse has been thus anchored, if he attempts
to move on, his nose is brought down to his breast by the

HOW TO HOBBLE AND ANCHOR HORSES. 211

cord, which, tightening equally on both sides, acts exactly
like a bridle in the hand of a rider; and as the pressure
of the curb-chain ceases so soon as he stops, he soon
finds out that the best thing he can do is to stand still
and graze.

As the cord is not fastened to either ring of the bit,
but merely runs through both, the pressure it exerts
when the horse tries to move is equal on both sides; and
therefore, on the pulley principle, a lead of four pounds
weight makes it necessary for the horse to overcome with
his mouth a steady and continuous pressure of eight
pounds on the extremity of the bit lever before he can
move forward. On mounting hurriedly the cord is
grasped with the reins, the anchor is raised, and while
galloping away is adjusted in its pocket.

Although this invention has proved to be admirably
adapted for farmers, for hunting and shooting, or for staff
or engineer officers while reconnoitring or surveying (for
which purpose General Sir John Michel, now commanding
a brigade im China, has used it with great success), it could
not safely be applied to cavalry; for as the horse has
power, if he chooses to endure the pain inflicted by his bit,
to “pull” or drag the anchor, were he to run away with
it, its oscillations would be very dangerous in a camp.

To carry the additional weight of the anchor would also
be considered as an objection ; but this could be entirely

0 2

212 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

got rid of by any intelligent staff officer affixing to a rope,
—whenever he wished for reconnoitring to tether his
horse,—a stone, a piece of wood, or any other heavy sub-
stance, which he would unlash and leave behind him so

soon as his object on foot had been accomplished.

3. In Mendoza, San Luis, Santiago, Buenos Ayres, and
all other cities in the provinces of Rio de la Plata, in
Chili, and in Peru, whenever a young dandy, calling
upon his innamorata, is informed that she is “en casa,”
that is at home, he dismounts, extracts from his waistcoat
pocket a beautiful pair of slight hobbles (weighing only
two ounces), which by two silver buttons he affixes to the
fetlocks of his high-bred horse, who, swishing with his
long tail the innumerable flies that assail him, and looking
at every animal that canters by him, stands stock still,
until within the house all the compliments of the season
have been paid, and all the songs to the guitar exhausted.

In those countries every cavalry soldier carries a pair
of such hobbles for his horse, not in his pocket, but as an
ornament dangling from the throat-lash of the bridle.

By this invention a horse is not so thoroughly secured
as by that used by the Cossacks ; and accordingly, if he be
overfed, very fresh, and greatly alarmed, he has power in
a very awkward gait to move away.

On active service, however, where horses have more

HOW TO HOBBLE AND ANCHOR HORSES. 213

work than food, it would prove efficient for a single horse,
and would completely arrest a troop when connected toge-
ther by their collar chains, by which arrangement a move-
ment, however slight, by any one horse would be restrained
by the vis inertiz of all the rest.

On the above suggestion being submitted by us about
six months ago to General Sir John Burgoyne, with the
vivacity and energy that distinguish him, he instantly
directed it to be properly tested by the mounted troop of
the Royal Engineer Train, who, as regards both bridles
and saddles, are equipped as cavalry.

The result of the experiments, under the superintend-
ence of Colonel Henry Sandham, and the able assistance
of Captain Duff, R.E., has proved so eminently successful,
that any one visiting Aldershott is now enabled to see six
or eight horses hobbled at intervals of about thirty feet
asunder, standing motionless, while the riders of the rest
of the troop to which they belong, with drawn sabres flash-
ing in the sun, are galloping through them backwards and
forwards ; and as of course cavalry horses could be made
to do the same, it has been substantiated that that noble
branch of our army, as also our volunteer yeomanry, by
merely carrying hobbles, which only weigh two ounces
per pair, would at once be enabled, in addition to other
services, to act, whenever requisite, as mounted infantry.

To an officer of the staff or engineers, sent to deliver

214 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

an order to, or to reconnoitre a locality which on horse-
back it would be certain death to him to attempt to ap-
proach, a pair-of hobbles would enable him, or, in case of
invasion, any possessor of a horse and a Minié rifle, to
ride as far as with safety he could advance, and then by
dismounting and securing his animal to creep, or if neces-
sary, crawl onwards along the bottom of a ditch, or behind
any bank or hedge, sufficient to conceal him from the fire
of an army of unerring marksmen to whom, after making
all necessary observations, he could invisibly administer
deadly blows.

As, however, in future warfare it will of course con-
stantly occur, that appropriate cover in appropriate situ-
ations and directions will not be available, our army, how-
ever perfect it may be made in the light infantry rifle
movements above described, should be discouraged from
relying on them, lest such an idea should lead, not only
to a timid course of procedure on the part of the General
commanding, but to a conception in the minds of British
soldiers, whose favourite weapon has hitherto been their
bayonets, that the odds will be much against them unless
they be hidden from the fire of their enemy.

ON CHLOROFORMING HORSES. 215

On CHLOROFORMING Horses.

In the first book of Genesis, although on the bursting
out of light; on the gathering together of the waters to
let the dry land appear; on the creation of the grass, the
herb, and the fruit-tree ; of the sun, moon, and stars; of
the fishes of the sea; of the fowls of the air; of the beast
of the earth, of the cattle, of every living creature, and
everything that creepeth upon the earth, we are informed
by Moses that on each of these successive formations “ God
saw that it was good ;” yet, the same six important words
of approval were not (as in all the previous instances they
had been) especially uttered on the creation of man, the
reason possibly being that of the works of creation every
thing was fixed, and “of its kind” immutably “ good,”
save human reason, which, for the weal or woe of the
favoured race on whom alone it was bestowed, was gifted
with an elasticity by which its character, capable of being
elevated or depressed to almost immeasurable distances
above or below the level of its original creation, might
become either “ good” or evil.

And accordingly, while the heat of the sun, the light
of the moon, the brightness of the stars, the force of the
hurricane, the velocity of light, the movements of the
heavenly bodies, the return of the seasons, have neither
increased nor diminished in the smallest degree; yet

216 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

human reason, since the moment of its creation, has never
continued within the same limits, simply because its
cumulative powers have enabled it to inherit, increase,
and transmit knowledge which, by the triumph of reason
over immutable instinct, has, in accordance with the
Almighty decree, given to man dominion over the fish
of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the
cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping
thing that creepeth on the earth.

As property, however, in animals as well as in acres,
“has its duties as well as its rights,” it might have been
expected (at least by them) that when the Lord of the
creation thus obtained possession of the superior physical
strength of brute beasts, he would deem it just to impart
to them in return a small tithe or share of any discovery
by human reason that could alleviate the work which,
in subjection to its power, they were required to perform ;
and as in mercantile firms it is usual for the partners to
expend for their mutual benefit the amount of the capital
they respectively contribute, it might have been expected
that in the alliance which has taken place between men
and horses, a similar division of profits would have been
adopted. But lke “Trish reciprocity,” the advantages
are all on one side; or in plainer terms, Reason screws
all it can out of Instinct, giving to the poor brute, its

owner, nothing in return.

|

ON CHLOROFORMING HORSES. P17

For instance, when man found that his unshod horse
could only carry him per day a small number of miles, he
invented for and presented him with iron shoes, in return
for which he required the wearer thereof to carry him
more than double that distance.

To the old fashioned lever, attached to the extremity
of which a horse revolving a mill could only draw up per
day a small quantity of water, or knead a small quan-
tity of clay, man as he improved in mechanical know-
ledge added a wheel, in return for which he required the
quadruped worker thereof to lift treble the amount of
water, or to knead treble the amount of clay.

Along the rough muddy roads that existed throughout
Europe half a century ago, a horse could with difficulty
draw a single man seated in his gig or “buggy.” As
soon, however, as by human science roads were mac-
adamised, z.e., levelled and improved, there arose as it
were out of them (like mushrooms in a meadow) innu-
merable descriptions of four-wheeled carriages, in which
the horse, simply because he was enabled, was required
to draw, in addition to his master, his wife and three
or four of their children,

When by the invention of railways the locomotive en-
gine suddenly superseded animal power, the horses,
instead of sharing in a discovery by human reason

which seemed to promise to them emancipation from

218 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

slavery, found that by it they were merely to be trans-
ferred from good highways to bad bye-ways.

If thousands of omnibuses, cabs, and canal-boats, which
have been plying seven days in the week, are suddenly
restrained by human laws from running on the Sabbath,
the proprietors instantly diminish the number of their
horses, expressly for the purpose of continuing to give to
each the same amount of work and of rest, the latter, like
“* the best of oats, beans, and chopped hay,” being bestowed
upon him solely to enable him to perform the maximum
amount of work.

In short, by the common rule of three, as well as by
the common rule of life, quaintly exemplified by the fol-
lowing extract, human reason calculates that if 7000 horses
are necessary to work for seven days per week, only 6000
will be wanted to work for six days.

“*Sunpay AND WEEKDAY ReLicions.—The tides come twice a-
day in New York Harbour, but they only come once in seven days
in God’s harbour of the sanctuary. They rise on Sunday, but ebb
on Monday, and are down and out all the rest of the week. Men
write over their store door, ‘ Business is business,’ and over the
church door, ‘ Religion is religion ;’ and they say to Religion,-‘ Never
come in here,’ and to Business, ‘ Never go in there.’ ‘ Let us have
no secular things in the pulpit,’ they say; ‘we get enough of them
through the week in New York. ‘There all is stringent and biting
selfishness, and knives, and probes, and lancets, and hurry, and

work, and worry. Here. we want repose, and sedatives, and healing
balm. All is prose over there; here let us have poetry. We want

ON CHLOROFORMING HORSES. 219

to sing hymns, and to hear about heaven and Calvary ; in short, we
want the pure Gospel without any worldly intermixture.’ And so
they desire to spend a pious, quiet Sabbath, full of pleasant imagin-
ings and peaceful recollections; but when the day is gone, all is laid
aside. They will take by the throat the first debtor whom they
meet, and exclaim, ‘Pay me what thou owest. It is Monday.’
And when the minister ventures to hint to them something about
their duty to their fellow-men, they say, ‘Oh, you stick to your
preaching. You do not know how to collect your own debts, and
cannot tell what a man may have to do in his intercourse with the
world.’ God’s law is not allowed to go into the week. If the mer-
chant spies it in his store, he throws it over the counter. If the
clerk sees it in the bank, he kicks it out at the door. If it is found
in the street, the multitude pursue it, pelting it with stones, as if it
were a wolf escuped from a menagerie, and shouting, ‘Back with
you! You have got out of Sunday.’ There is no religion in all this.
It is mere sentimentalism. Religion belongs to every day—to the
place of business as much as to the church. High in an ancient
belfry there is a clock, and once a week the old sexton winds it up;
but it has neither dial plate nor hands. The pendulum swings, and
there it goes, ticking, ticking, day in and day out, unnoticed and
useless. What the old clock is in its dark chamber, keeping time to
itself, but never showing it, that is the mere sentimentality of reli-
gion, high above life, in the region of airy thought; perched up in
the top of Sunday, but without dial or pointer to let the week know
what o’clock it is, of time or of eternity.”—American Paper.

It may be impracticable to prevent man from taking
to himself the whole benefit of every ingenious invention
by which the physical power of the horse can be in-
creased, yet surely, either by legislation or by the power

of public opinion, he should be required to grant or rather

220 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

transmit to the poor animal, as a gift from Heaven, the
benefit of any scientific discovery that may save him
from unnecessary and indescribable agony under opera-
tions almost all of which are prescribed either for the
self interest, pride, or fashions of his master.

But although the avowed object of the criminal laws of
England is to prevent crime by the infliction of a scale of
punishments which, fearful enough to deter the guiltiest,
are all divested, so far as science can devise, of bodily pain ;
although we deprecate any suffering on the tread-mill be-
yond that of ordmary hard labour; and although even
for the murderer we have invented a machinery of rope,
planks, and bolts to produce a sudden and almost painless
death, yet, until lately, people of both sexes, of all ages,
and of every sort and condition, have under the surgeon’s
knife been subjected to tortures which it would have
been beyond the ingenuity of the most merciless tyrant
that ever existed to have invented.

The screams, however, which have resounded through-
out the civilized world—in private houses, in palaces, in
cottages, on the field of battle, between the decks of ‘men-
of-war, and through the doors and windows of all public
hospitals,—have lately, by the command and blessmg of
Almighty God, been suddenly stopped by the administra-

tion of chloroform, which now, diluted in the proportion

ON CHLOROFORMING HORSES.

221

of three parts of vapour to ninety-seven parts of atmos-
pheric air, causes a patient, at no risk whatever of his life,
and at a cost amounting to less than two-pence, to be
bereft, not necessarily of his senses, but merely of sensa-
tion, while the knife, without the infliction of the slightest
pain, is performing on his living body the most appalling
operations,

“And the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam, and
he slept: and he took one of his ribs, and closed up the flesh
instead thereof.”

Now, if in return for this extraordinary alleviation,
or rather annihilation of all suffermgs under surgical
treatment, man should deem it his duty to render public
thanks to that Ommipotent Power from which it has
proceeded, is it possible for him practically to perform
any more acceptable act of acknowledgment than to allow
the dumb creatures in his service to participate in a
blessing which, by Divine authority, has been imparted to
the possessors, not exclusively of human reason, but with-
out favour or exception, of animal life ?

As regards his horses, the performance of this duty is
especially incumbent : for not only, like all other animals,
are they hable to the accidents and ills that flesh is heir
to, but some of the cruelest operations to which they are

subjected—such, for instance, as cutting off and cauteris-

222 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

ing their tails, burning their sinews with red hot irons,
dividing and cutting out a portion of a nerve, with other
excruciating operations on young horses, under which
they are often heard to squeal from pain—are inflicted
on them, to comply with either a useless as well as a
barbarous fashion ;—or to enable them ‘‘ to go for another
season’s hunting ;”—or to make them “‘ sound enough to
sell;” or for the attainment of conveniences of which
the horse derives not the smallest share: and as the
high-bred, broken-down hunter has no voice to ask for
mercy,—as he cannot boast of possessing reason,—as he
has inherited no knowledge,—as he has no power to
bequeath any,—as his whole energies have been devoted
to the service and enjoyments of man, by whose mechanical
contrivances he is now “ cast” with his four feet shackled
together, lying prostrate on a heap of straw ;—just before
the red-hot iron sears his over-strained sinews, or the
sharp knife is inserted into his living flesh—surely, in a
eivilized country like England, some high power should be
authorized to exclaim, not ‘*‘ Woodman, spare that tree!”
but ‘* Sportsman, SAVE that horse!” by chloroform, from
the agonising torture to which you have sentenced
him !

You are a man of pleaswre:—save him from unneces-
sary pain. You are a man of business :—inscribe in that

ON CHLOROFORMING HORSES. 223

ledger in which every one of the acts of your life is
recorded, on one side how much Ae will gain, and on the
other, per contra, how very little you will lose, by the
evaporation of a fluid that will not cost you the price
of the shoes of the poor animal whose marketable value
you have determined, by excruciating agony to him, to
increase.

As he lies prostrate, all that is necessary to save him
from suffering the smallest amount of pain is, to desire the
operator with his left hand to close the animal’s upper
nostril, while beneath the lower one he places a quarter of
a pint tin pot, containing a sponge, on which is gradually
dropped, from a little vial, chloroform sufficient to deprive
him of sensation, which can readily be tested by the occa-
sional slight prick of a pin; and although, when thus
lulled into an unconscious state, the noble animal may,
during a dreadful operation, possibly dream that

“« He sees war’s lightning flashing,
Sees the claymore and bayonet clashing,
Sees through the blood the warhorse dashing ”—
yet, on the restoration of sensation, which usually occurs
some minutes after the operation is over, he calmly awakens,
raises his head, and looks around, perfectly unconscious of
all that has occurred to him!

In every point of view in which it can be considered,

224 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

this boon, granted by Heaven to the brute beast, should
not be withheld from him by man.

On Mr. Henry Thompson, the celebrated practising
surgeon at University College Hospital, and also at Mary-
lebone Dispensary, being lately asked ‘‘ What are the
occasions on which you are in the habit of administering
chloroform?” he energetically replied, “ For everything
that gives PAIN.”

If, therefore, man to this enormous extent is benefited
by chloroform, what right has he to withhold it from his
own animals, to whom, not only in equity, but by the
laws of God, it belongs as much as it belongs to him ?

Their claims are so affecting, and so obvious, the
remedy that would save them from all pain is so cheap
and simple, that it is, we feel, only necessary to appeal to
the public to obtain by acclamation a verdict in their favour,

Professor Spooner, in an address delivered by him to
the students of the Veterinary College in October last,
stated that in the two chief Veterimary Colleges in France—
at Alfort and at Lyons—pupils, twice a week for seven
hours a day, are instructed in surgery by the “vivi-
section” or cutting up of living horses, who, until they
actually expire, are subjected to a series of cruelties
which, although Mr. Spooner professionally described and

deprecated, we dare not repeat.

ON CHLOROFORMING HORSES. 225

What a disgrace it is to France, and especially to her
brave army, that while every cavalry soldier who dis-
tincuishes himself in action, covered with medals and
“olory,” may proudly end his days in the Hotel des
Invalides,—the horse that carried him in all his brilliant
charges, &c., when he is worn out and unfit for service, is
liable to be led into an arena in the heart of “The
Empire,” to be, before the public, not honoured nor
rewarded, but, inch by inch, and bit by bit, to be dis-
sected alive, until by the last sigh from his lungs, and by
the last pulsation from his heart, he ends his account with
his inconsiderate, ungenerous, and ungrateful country !

The English veterinary surgeons of the present day
are so far superior to those of the last generation—they
are so willing and so proud to follow in their important
vocation whatever new discoveries may be humanely and
successfully practised in our public hospitals, that if
our Sovereign, the Commander-in-Chief of our army,
our noblemen, sportsmen, and men of education, cha-
racter, and wealth, would but combine together in deter-
mining to require that chloroform shall invariably be
administered to their creatures “ for everything that gives
pain,” the “fashion” would quickly be followed, even by
the most unreflecting portion of our community; and
England, “great, glorious, and free,” would then stand
distinguished in the world, not only for the strength,

. Pp

226 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

stoutness, endurance, weight, and swiftness of her animals,
but by her merciful protection of them under surgical

operations.

“@ righteous man regartcth his beast: hut the tender
mereies of the wicked are cruel.”

IN GRATITUDE TO
THE HORSE,
THE FOREGOING IMPERFECT OBSERVATIONS,
APPLICABLE TO ALL LIVING CREATURES,
ARE RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED

To THE CONSIDERATION OF THE PUBLIC,

BY

HIS RIDER.

LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET,
AND CHARING CROSS,

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April, 1861,

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ee eee eee

PUBLISHED BY MR. MURRAY. 5

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BRITISH CLASSICS. A New Series of Standard English

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PUBLISHED BY MR. MURRAY. 7

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———_ Se

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a

PUBLISHED BY MR. MURRAY.

i)

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12 LIST OF WORKS

FANCOURT'S (Cot.) History of Yucatan, from its Discovery
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Handbook of Architecture. Being a Concise
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FERRIER’S (T. P.) Caravan Journeys in Persia, Afghanistan,
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History of the Afghans. Map. 8vo. 21s.

FEUERBACH’S Remarkable German Crimes and Trials, Trans-

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FISHER’S (Rey. Grorcr) Elements of Geometry, for the Use of
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FLOWER GARDEN (Tux). An Essay. By Rev. Tos. Jamus.
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FORBES’ (C. 8.) Iceland; its Volcanoes, Geysers, and Glaciers.

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PUBLISHED BY MR. MURRAY. 13

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14 LIST OF WORKS

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GREEK GRAMMAR FOR SCHOOLS. Abridged from Matthiee.
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16 LIST OF WORKS

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PUBLISHED BY MR. MURRAY. 17

HEIRESS (Tux) in Her Minority; or, The Progress of Character.

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HERODOTUS. A New English Version, from the Text of Gais-

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©

18 LIST OF WORKS

HOME AND COLONIAL LIBRARY. A Series of Works

adapted for all classes of Readers. PostSvo. Published in Parts at
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[*** Those Works with a * are in Two Parts.]

VOYAGES, TRAVELS, AND ADVENTURES.

*THE BIBLE IN SPAIN. By Grorcr Borrow.

*JOURNALS IN INDIA. By Pisuop Heser. 4 Parts.

TRAVELS IN THE HOLY LAND. By Capraiys Inpy and MANGLEs.
MOROCCO AND THE MOORS. By J. Drummonp Hay.
LETTERS FROM THE BALTIC. By a Lavy.

NEW SOUTH WALES. By Mrs. Merepira.

FATHER RIPA’S MEMOIRS OF THE COURT OF HINA.

A RESIDENCE IN THE WEST INDIES. By M. G. Lewis.
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*GIPSIES OF SPAIN. By GrorcE Borrow.

*TYPEE AND OMOO; OR, THE MARQUESAS AND SOUTH SEAS.

By Hermann MELVILLE. 4 Parts.

MISSIONARY LIFE IN CANADA. By Rev. J. Assorr.
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*HIGHLAND SPORTS. By CHaszezs St. Joun.

JOURNEYS ACROSS THE PAMPAS. By Sir F. B. HEAp.
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A VOYAGE UP THE RIVER AMAZON. By W.H. Epwanrps.
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*ADVENTURES IN MEXICO. By G. F. Ruxton.
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BUSH LIFE IN AUSTRALIA. By H. W. Haye@anrra.
ADVENTURES IN THE LIBYAN DESERT. By Bayte Sr. Jouy.
*A RESIDENCE AT SIERRA LEONE. By a Lapy.

HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, AND HISTORIC TALES.

THE SIEGE OF GIBRALTAR. By Joun DrixkKwATER.

THE AMBER-WITCH. By Lapy Durr Gorpon.

OLIVER CROMWELL & JOHN BUNYAN. By Rosert Soutuey.
LIFE OF SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. By Joun Barrow,

THE FRENCH IN ALGIERS. By Lavy Durr Gorpon.
HISTORY OF THE FALL OF THE JESUITS.

*LIFE OF LOUIS, PRINCE OF CONDE. By Lorp Manon,
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SALE’S BRIGADE IN AFFGHANISTAN. By Rev. G.R. Greia.
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*STORY OF BATTLE OF WATERLOO. By Rev. G.R. Gutta.
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CAMPAIGNS AT WASHINGTON. By Rey. G.R. Guzia.

*LIFE OF LORD CLIVE. By Rev. G. R. Guezie.

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF HENRY STEFFENS.

*SHORT LIVES OF THE POETS. By Tuomas CampsEt.
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LONDON & NORTH-WESTERN RAILWAY. By Sir F. B. Hzap.
*LIFE OF GENERAL MUNRO. By Rev. G.R, Guzia.

PUBLISHED BY MR. MURRAY. 19

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q2

20 LIST OF WORKS

KING’S (Rev. S. W.) Italian Valleys of the Alps; a Tour
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(Rev. C. W.) Antique Gems; their Origin, Use, and
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KINGLAKE’S (A. W.) History of the War in the Crimea.

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KNAPP’S (J. A.) English Roots and Ramifications; or, the

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KUGLER’S Italian Schools of Painting. Edited, with Notes, by
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German, Dutch, and Flemish Schools of Painting.
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LABARTE’S (M. Jutes) Handbook of the Arts of the Middle Ages
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LABORDE’S (Leon px) Journey through Arabia Petreea, to Mount
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LANE'’S (E. W.) Manners and Custonis of the Modern Egyptians.
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LATIN GRAMMAR (Kine Epwarp VIrn’s). For the Use of
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First Book (Kine Epwarp VIrn’s); or, the Accidence,
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LAYARD’S (A. H.) Nineveh and its Remains. Being a Nar-
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Nineveh and Babylon; being the Result
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Popular Account of Nineveh. 15th Edition. With
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LESLIE'S (C. R.) Handbook for Young Painters. With Illustra-
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———— _ Autobiographical Recollections, with Selections
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Life of Sir Joshua Reynolds. With an Account

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SS.

PUBLISHED BY MR. MURRAY, 21

LEAKE’S (Cou.) Topography of Athens, with Remarks on its
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Plates. 2 Vols.5vu. 30s.
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Disputed Questions of Ancient Geography. Map.
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Numismata Hellenica, and Supplement. Completing a
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Peloponnesiaca: A Supplement to Travels in the Morea.
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LETTERS FROM THE SHORES OF THE BALTIC. By a
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Sierra Leone, written to Friends at Home.
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