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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.
Chapels Copyright No...
Shelf oF 301
/ 8
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.
WHIP AND SPUR
Ay EER AND
So
BY
COL. GEORGE E. WARING, JR.
ei
@
NEW YORK
DOUBLEDAY AND McCLURE
COMPANY .. . MDCCXCVII
na, (897
5 fs5° - .
OCT B} 1897 |
Foes te of consi
TWO COPIES RRcEMED ©‘ °
COPYRIGHT, 1897
BY DOUBLEDAY & MCCLURE CO.
CON AHN Tess?
or
PAGE
Wax : : : : ‘ ; : P 7
Rey. : : : ; ‘ é : 34.
WETTSTEIN SG
CaMPAIGNING witH Max ; : : : 93
How I cor my Overcoat. ‘ ; : £38
Two Scouts . i : ; ; 162
In THE GLOAMING . . é ‘ ‘ 5 2186
Fox-Huntinec In ENGLAND . ; : : 201
WEP AND SPUR:
NA
ee e|HEN the work on the Central Park had
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i)
fairly commenced, in the spring of 1858,
4+ I found—or I fancied — that proper
attention to my scattered duties made it neces-
sary that I should have a saddle-horse.
How easily, by the way, the arguments that
convince us of these pleasant necessities find
their way to the understanding !
Yet, how to subsist a horse after buying one,
and how to buy? The memory of a well-bred
and keen-eyed gray, dating back to the earliest
days of my boyhood, and forming the chief’ fea-
ture of my recollection of play-time for years ;
8 WHIP AND SPUR.
an idle propensity, not a whit dulled yet, to
linger over Leech’s long-necked hunters, and
Herring’s field scenes; an almost superstitious
faith in the different analyses of the bones of
the racer and of the cart-horse; a firm belief
in Frank Forester’s teachings of the value of
“blood,” —all these conspired to narrow my
-range of selection, and, unfortunately, to con-
fine it to a very expensive class of horses.
Unfortunately, again, the commissioners of the
Park had extremely inconvenient ideas of econ-
omy, and evidently did not consider, in fixing
their schedule of salaries, how much more satis-
factory our positions would have been with more
generous emolument.
How a man with only a Park salary, and with
a family to support, could set up a saddle-horse,
—and not ride to the dogs, — was a question that
exercised not a little of my engineering talent
for weeks ; and many an odd corner of plans and
estimates was figured over with calculations of
the cost of forage and shoeing.
Stable-room was plenty and free in the con-
VIX. 9
demned buildings of the former occupants, and
a little “ over-time” of one of the men would
suffice for the grooming.
I finally concluded that, by giving up cigars,
and devoting my energies to the pipe in their
stead, I could save enough to pay for my horse’s
keep; and so, the ways and means having been,
in this somewhat vague manner, provided, the
next step was to buy a horse. To tell of the
: days passed at auction sales in the hope (never
there realized) of finding goodness and cheapness
combined, — of the stationery wasted in answer-
ing advertisements based on every conceivable
form of false pretence ; to describe the number-
less broken-kneed, broken-winded, and_ broken-
down brutes that came under inspection, — would
be tedious and disheartening.
Good horses there were, of course, though very
few good saddle-horses (America is not productive
in this direction), — and the possible animals were
held at impossible prices.
Those who rode over the new Park lands usu-
ally rode anything but good saddle-horses. Fast
1*
10 WHIP AND SPUR.
trotters, stout ponies, tolerable carriage-horses,
capital cart-horses, there were in plenty. But
the clean-cut, thin-crested, bright-eyed, fine-eared,
steel-limbed saddle-horse, the saddle-horse par ex-
cellence, —may I say the only saddle-horse ?—
rarely came under observation ; and when, by ex-
ception, such a one did appear, he was usually so
ridden that his light was sadly dimmed. It was
hard to recognize an elastic step under such an
unelastic seat.
Finally, in the days of my despair, a kind sad-
dler, —- kept to his daily awl by a too keen eye
for sport, and still, I believe, a victim to his pro-
pensity for laying his money on the horse that
ought to win but don’t, — hearing of my ambi-
tion (to him the most laudable of all ambitions),
came to put me on the long-sought path.
He knew a mare, or he had known one, that
would exactly suit me. She was in a bad way
now, and a good deal run down, but he always
thought she “had it in her,” and that some gen-
tleman ought to keep her for the saddle, —
“which, in my mind, sir, she be the finest bit of
VIX. PS:
’orse-flesh that was hever imported, sir.” That
was enough. “Imported” decided my case, and
I listened eagerly to the enthusiastic story, —a
story to which this man’s life was bound with
threads of hard-earned silver, and not less by a
real honest love for a fine animal. He had never
been much given to saving, but he was a good
workman, and the little he had saved had been
blown away in the dust that clouded his favorite
at the tail of the race.
Still, he attached himself to her person, and
followed her in her disgrace. “She were n’t quite
quick enough for the turf, sir, but she be a good
‘un for a gentleman’s ’ack.”
He had watched her for years, and scraped
acquaintance with her different owners as fast as
she had changed them, and finally, when she was
far gone with pneumonia, he had accepted her as
a gift, and, by careful nursing, had cured her.
Then, for a time, he rode her himself, and his eye
brightened as he told of her leaps and her stride.
Of course he rede her to the races, and —one
luckless day — when he had lost everything, and
12 WHIP AND SPUR.
his passion had got the better of his prudence,
he staked the mare herself on a perfectly sure
thing in two-mile-heats. Like most of the sure
things of life, this venture went to the bad, and
the mare was lost, —lost to a Bull’s Head dealer
in single driving horses. “I see her in his stable
ahfter that, sir; and, forbieten she were twelve
year old, sir, and ’ad ’ad a ’ard life of it, she were
the youngest and likeliest of the lot,—you’d
swore she were a three-year-old, sir.”
If that dealer had had a soul above trotting-
wagons, my story would never have been written ;
but all was fish that came to his net, and this
thoroughbred racer, this beautiful creature who
had never worn harness in her life, must be
shown to a purchaser who was seeking something
to drive. She was always quick to decide, and
her actions followed close on the heels of her
thought. She did not complicate matters by
waiting for the gentleman to get into the wagon,
but then and there —on the instant — kicked it
to kindlings. This ended the story. She had
been shown at a high figure, and was subse-
VIX. 13
quently sold for a song,—he could tell me no
more. She had passed to the lower sphere of
equine life and usefulness, —he had heard of a
fish-wagon, but he knew nothing about it. What
he did know was, that the dealer was a dreadful
jockey, and that it would never do to ask him.
Now, here was something to live for, —a sort of
princess in disgrace, whom it would be an honor
to rescue, and my horse-hunting acquired a new
interest.
By easy stages, I cultivated the friendship of
the youth who, in those days, did the morning’s
sweeping-out at the Bull’s Head Hotel. He had
grown up in the alluring shades of the horse-
market, and his daily communion from childhood
had been with that “noble animal.” To him
horses were the individuals of the world, — men
their necessary attendants, and of only attendant
importance. Of course he knew of this black she-
devil; and he thought that “a hoss that could
trot like she could on the halter” must be crazy
not to go in harness.
However, he thought she had got her deserts
14 WHIP AND SPUR.
now, for he had seen her, only a few weeks before,
“a draggin’ clams for a feller in the Tenth Ave-
” Here was a clew at last, —clams and the
ner.
Tenth Avenue. For several days the scent grew
cold. The people of the Licensed Vender part of
this street seemed to have little interest in their
neighbors’ horses; but I found one man, an Irish
grocer, who had been bred a stable-boy to the
Marquis of Waterford, and who did know of a
‘poor old screw of a black mare” that had a good
head, and might be the one I was looking for ;
but, if she was, he thought I might as well give it
up, for she was all broken down, and would never
be good for anything again.
Taking the address, I went to a stable-yard, in
what was then the very edge of the town, and
here I found a knowing young man, who devoted
his time to peddling clams and potatoes between
New York and Sing Sing. Clams up, and pota-
toes down, — twice every week, — distance thirty
miles; road hilly; and that was the wagon he
did it with, —a heavy wagon with a heavy arched
top, and room for a heavy load, and only shafts
VIX. 15
for a single horse. In reply to my question, he
said he changed horses pretty often, because the
work broke them down; but he had a mare now
that had been at it for three months, and he
thought she would last some time longer. ‘“She’s
pretty thin, but you ought to see her trot with
that wagon.” With an air of idle curiosity, I
asked to see her, —I had gone shabbily dressed,
not to excite suspicion; for men of the class I
had to treat with are usually sharp horse-traders,
—and this fellow, clam-pedler though he was,
showed an enthusiastic alacrity in taking me to
her stall. She had won even his dull heart, and
he spoke of her gently, as he made the most of
her good points, and glossed over her wretched
condition.
Poor Vixen (that had been her name in her
better days, and it was to be her name again),
she had found it hard kicking against the pricks !
Clam-carts are stronger than trotting-wagons, and
even her efforts had been vain. She had suc-
cumbed to dire necessity, and earned her ignoble
oats with dogged fidelity. She had a little warm
16 WHIP AND SPUR.
corner in her driver’s affections, — as she always
had in the affections of all who came to know her
well, — but her lot was a very hard one. Worn
to a skeleton, with sore galls wherever the har-
ness had pressed her, her pasterns bruised by
clumsy shoes, her silky coat burned brown by
the sun, and her neck curved upward, it would
have needed more than my knowledge of anat-
omy to see anything good in her but for her
wonderful head. This was the perfection of a
horse’s head, — small, bony, and of perfect shape,
with keen, deer-like eyes, and thin, active ears ;
it told the whole story of her virtues, and
showed no trace of her sufferings. Her royal
blood shone out from her face, and kept it
beautiful.
My mind was made up, and Vixen must be
mine at any cost. Still, it was important to
me to buy as cheaply as I could, — and desir-
able, above all, not to be jockeyed in a horse-
trade; so it required some diplomacy (an account
of which would not be edifying here) to bring
the transaction to its successful close. The
VIX. Li
pendulum which swung between offer and de-
mand finally rested at seventy-five dollars.
She was brought to me at the Park on a
bright moonlight evening in June, and we were
called out to see her. I think she knew that
her harness days were over, and she danced off
to her new quarters as gay as a colt in train-
ing. That night my wakefulness would have
done credit to a boy of sixteen; and I was up
with the dawn, and bound for a ride; but when
I examined poor Vix again in her stable, it
seemed almost cruel to think of using her at
all for a month. She was so thin, so worn, so
bruised, that I determined to give her a long
rest and good care, —only I must try her once,
just to get a leg over her for five minutes, and
then she should come back and be cared for
until really well. It was a weak thing to do,
and I confess it with all needful humiliation,
but I mounted her at once; and, although I
had been a rider all my days, this was the first
time I had ever really ridden. For the first
time in my life I felt as though I had four
B
18 WHIP AND SPUR.
whalebone legs of my own, worked by steel
muscles in accordance with my will, but with-
out even a conscious effort of will.
That that anatomy of a horse should so easily,
so playfully, handle my heavy weight was a
mystery, and is a mystery still. She carried
me in the same high, long-reaching, elastic trot
that we sometimes see a young horse strike when
first turned into a field. A low fence was near
by, and I turned her toward it. She cleared it
with a bound that sent all my blood thrilling
through my veins, and trotted on again as though
nothing had occurred. The five minutes’ turn
was taken with so much ease, with such evident
delight, that I made it a virtue to indulge her
with a longer course and a longer stride. We
went to the far corners of the Park, and tried all
our paces; all were marvellous for the power so
easily exerted and the evident power in reserve.
Yes, Frank Forester was right, blood horses are
made of finer stuff than others. My intention of
giving the poor old mare a month’s rest was never
carried out, because each return to her old recrea-
VIX. 19
tion —it was never work — made it more evi-
dent that the simple change in her life was all she
needed ; and, although in constant use from the
first, she soon put on the flesh and form of a
sound horse. Her minor bruises were obliterated,
and her more grievous ones grew into permanent
scars, — blemishes, but only skin deep; for every
fibre of every muscle, and every tendon and bone
in her whole body, was as strong and supple as
spring steel.
The Park afforded good leaping in those days.
Some of the fences were still standing around the
abandoned gardens, and new ditches and old
brooks were plenty. Vixen gave me lessons in
fencing which a few years later, in time of graver
need, stood me in good stead. She weighed less
than four times the weight that she carried; yet
she cleared a four-foot fence with apparent ease,
and once, in a moment of excitement, she carried
me over a brook, with a clear leap of twenty-six
feet, measured from the taking-off to the landing.
Her feats of endurance were equal to her feats
of strength. I once rode her from Yorkville to
20 WHIP AND SPUR.
Rye (twenty-one miles) in an hour and forty-five
minutes, including a rest of twenty minutes at
Pelham Bridge, and I frequently rode twenty-five
miles out in the morning and back in the after-
noon. When put to her work, her steady road
gallop (mostly on the grassy sides) was fifteen
miles an hour.
Of course these were extreme cases; but she
never showed fatigue from them, and she did
good service nearly every day, winter and sum-
mer, from her twelfth to her fifteenth year, keep-
ing always in good condition, though thin as a
racer, and looking like a colt at the end of the
time. Horsemen never guessed her age at more
than half of what it actually was.
Beyond the average of even the most intelligent
horses, she showed some almost human traits.
Above all was she fond of children, and would
quiet down from her wildest moods to allow a
child to be carried on the pommel. When en-
gaged in this serious duty, it was difficult to
excite her, or to urge her out of a slow and
measured pace, although usually ready for any
VIX. 21
extravagance. Not the least marked of her pecu-
liarities was her inordinate vanity. On a country
road, or among the workmen of the Park, she was
as staid and business-like as a parson’s cob; but
let a carriage or a party of visitors come in sight,
and she would give herself the prancing airs of a
circus horse, seeming to watch as eagerly for some
sign of approval, and to be made as happy by it,
as though she only lived to be admired. Many
a time have I heard the exclamation, “ What a
beautiful horse!”
and Vix seemed to hear it too,
and to appreciate it quite as keenly as I did. A
trip down the Fifth Avenue in the afternoon was
an immense excitement to her, and she was more
fatigued by it than by a twenty-mile gallop.
However slowly she travelled, it was always with
the high springing action of a fast trot, or with
that long-stepping, sidelong action that the
French call @ deux pistes; few people allowed
her to pass without admiring notice.
Her most satisfactory trait was her fondness
for her master; she was as good company as a
dog, — better, perhaps, because she seemed more
22 WHIP AND SPUR.
really a part of one’s self; and she was quick
to respond to my changing moods. I have some-
times, when unable to sleep, got up in the night
and saddled for a ride, usually ending in a long
walk home, with the bridle over my arm, and the
old mare’s kind face close beside my own, in some-
thing akin to human sympathy; she had a way
of sighing, when things were especially sad, that
made her very comforting to have about. So we
went on for three years, always together, and
always very much to each other. We had our
little unhappy episodes, when she was pettish and
I was harsh,—sometimes her feminine freaks
were the cause, sometimes my masculine blunder-
ing, — but we always made it up, and were soon
good friends again, and, on the whole, we were
both better for the friendship. I am sure that I
was, and some of my more grateful recollections
are connected with this dumb companion.
The spring of 1861 opened a new life for
both of us,—a sad and a short one for poor
Vix.
I never knew just how much influence she
VIX. 23
had in getting my commission, but, judging by
the manner of the other field officers of the regi-
ment, she was evidently regarded as the better
half of the new acquisition. The pomp and cir-
cumstance of glorious war suited her temper
exactly, and it was ludicrous to see her satisfac-
tion in first wearing her gorgeous red-bordered
shabrack ; for a time she carried her head on
one side to see it. She conceived a new affec-
tion for me from the moment when she saw me
bedecked with the dazzling bloom that preceded
the serious fruitage of the early New York vol-
unteer organizations.
At last the thrillmg day came. Broadway
was alive from end to end with flags and white
cambric and sad faces. Another thousand were
going to the war. With Swiss bugle march and
chanted Marseillaise, we made our solemn way
through the grave and anxious throng. To us
it was naturally a day of sore trial; but with
brilliant, happy Vixen it was far different ; she
was leaving no friends behind, was going to meet
no unknown peril. She was showing her royal,
24 WHIP AND SPUR.
stylish beauty to an admiring crowd, and she
acted as though she took to her own especial
behoof every cheer that rang from Union Square
to Cortlandt Street. It was the glorious day of
her life, and, as we dismounted at the Jersey
ferry, she was trembling still with the delight-
ful excitement.
At Washington we were encamped east of the
Capitol, and for a month were busy in getting
settled in the new harness. Mr. Lincoln used
to drive out sometimes to our evening drill, and
he always had a pleasant word —as he always
had for every one, and as every one had for
her —- for my charming thoroughbred, who had
made herself perfeetly at home with the troops,
and enjoyed every display of the marvellous
raiment of the regiment.
On the 4th of July we crossed the Potomac
and went below Alexandria, where we lay in
idle preparation for the coming disaster. On
the 16th we marched, in Blenker’s brigade of
Miles’s division, and we passed the night in a
hay-field, with a confusion of horses’ feed and
VIX. 25
riders’ bed, that brought Vix and me very close-
ly together. On the 18th we reached the valley
this side of Centreville, while the skirmish of
Blackburn’s Ford was going on, —-a skirmish
now, but a battle then. For three nights and
two days we lay in the bushes, waiting for ra-
tions and orders. On Sunday morning McDow-
ell’s army moved out ;— we all know the rest.
Miles’s thirteen thousand fresh troops lay with-
in sight and sound of the lost battle-field, — he
drunk and unable, even if not unwilling, to take
them to the rescue, — and all we did was, late
in the evening, to turn back a few troopers of
the Black Horse Cavalry, the moral effect of
whose unseen terrors was driving our herds,
panting, back to the Potomac. Late in the
night we turned our backs on our idle field,
and brought up the rear of the sad retreat.
Our regiment was the last to move out, and
Vix and I were with the rear-guard. Wet, cold,
tired, hungry, unpursued, we crept slowly through
the scattered débris of the broken-up camp equi-
page, and dismally crossed the Long Bridge in a
2
26 WHIP AND SPUR.
pitiless rain, as Monday’s evening was closing
in. O, the dreadful days that followed, when a
dozen resolute men might have taken Washing-
ton, and have driven the army across the Chesa-
peake, when everything was filled with gloom
and rain and grave uncertainty !
Again the old mare came to my aid. My regi-
ment was not a pleasant one to be with, for its
excellent material did not redeem its very bad
commander, and I longed for service with the
cavalry. Frémont was going to St. Louis, and
his chief of staff was looking for cavalry officers.
He had long known Vixen, and was kind enough
to tell me that he wanted her for the new organ-
ization, and (as I was her necessary appendage),
he procured my transfer, and we set out for the
West. It was not especially flattering to me
to be taken on these grounds; but it was flatter-
ing to Vixen, and that was quite as pleasant.
Arrived at St. Louis, we set about the organ-
ization of the enthusiastic thousands who rushed
to serve under Frémont. Whatever there was
of ostentatious display, Vixen and I took part
VIX. 27
Peebiees See ie ee
in, but this was not much. Once we turned
out in great state to receive Prince Plon-Plon,
but that was in the night, and he didn’t come
after all. Once again there was a review of all
the troops, and that was magnificent. This was
all. There was no coach and four, nor anything
else but downright hard work from early morning
till late bedtime, from Sunday morning till Satur-
day night. For six weeks, while my regiment of
German horsemen was fitting up and drilling at
the Abbey Race-track, I rode a cart-horse, and kept
the mare in training for the hard work ahead.
At last we were off, going up the Missouri,
sticking in its mud, poling over its shoals, and
being bored generally. At Jefferson City Vixen
made her last appearance in ladies’ society, as by
the twilight fires of the General’s camp she went
through her graceful paces pefore Mrs. Frémont
and her daughter. I pass over the eventful pur-
suit of Price’s army, because the subject of my
story played only a passive part in it. At Spring-
field I tried her nerve by jumping her over the
dead horses on brave Zagonyi’s bloody field ; and,
28 WHIP AND SPUR.
although distastefully, she did my bidding with-
out flinching, when she found it must be done.
The camp-life at Springfield was full of excite-
ment and earnestness; Price, with his army, was
‘near at hand (or we believed that he was, which
was essentially the same). Our work in the cav-
alry was very active, and Vix had hard service
on insufficient food, — she seemed to be sustained
by sheer nervous strength.
At last the order to advance was given, and we
were to move out at daybreak; then came a
countermanding order; and then, late in the
evening, Frémont’s farewell. He had been re-
lieved. There was genuine and universal grief.
Good or bad, competent or incompetent, — this
is not the place to argue that, —he was the life
and the soul of his army, and it was cruelly
wronged in his removal. Spiritless and full of
disappointment, we again turned back from our
aim ;— then would have been Price’s opportunity.
It was the loveliest Indian-summer weather,
and the wonderful opal atmosphere of the Ozark
Mountains was redolent with the freshness of a
VIX. 29
second spring. As had always been my habit in
dreamy or unhappy moods, I rode my poor tired
mare for companionship’s sake, —I ought not to
have done it, —I would give much not to have
done it, for I never rode her again. The march
was long, and the noonday sun was oppressive.
She who had never faltered before grew nervous
and shaky now, and once, after fording the
Pomme-de-Terre in deep water, she behaved
wildly ; but when I talked to her, called her
a good girl, and combed her silken mane with
my fingers, she came back to her old way, and
went on nicely. Still she perspired unnaturally,
and I felt uneasy about her when I dismounted
and gave her rein to Rudolf, my orderly.
Late in the night, when the moon was in
mid-heaven, he came to my tent, and told me
that something was the matter with Vixen. My
adjutant and I hastened out, and there we be-
held her in the agony of a brain fever. She
was the most painfully magnificent animal I
ever saw. Crouched on the ground, with her
forelegs stretched out and wide apart, she was
30 WHIP AND SPUR.
swaying to and fro, with hard and _ stertorous
breath, — every vein swollen and throbbing in
the moonlight. De Grandele, our quiet veter-
inary surgeon, had been called while it was yet
time to apply the lancet. As the hot stream
spurted from her neck she grew easier; her
eye recovered its gentleness, and she laid her
head against my breast with the old sigh, and
seemed to know and to return all my love for
her. I sat with her until the first gray of
dawn, when she had grown quite calm, and
then I left her with De Grandéle and Rudolf
while I went to my duties. We must march
at five o’clock, and poor Vixen could not be
moved. The thought of leaving her was very
bitter, but I feared it must be done, and I
asked De Grandéle how he could best end her
sufferings, —or was there still some hope? He
shook his head mournfully, like a kind-hearted
doctor as he was, and said that he feared not ;
but still, as I was so fond of her, if I would
leave him six men, he would do his best to
bring her on, and, if he could not, he would
7
VIX. ol
not leave her alive. I have had few harder
duties than to march that morning. Four days
after, De Grandele sent a message to me at our
station near Rolla, that he was coming on nice-
ly, and hoped to be in at nightfall. “ Vixen
seems to be better and stronger.” At nightfall
they came, the poor old creature stepping slowly
and timidly over the rough road, all the old
fire and force gone out of her, and with only a
feeble whinny as she saw me walking to meet
her. We built for her the best quarters we
could under the mountain-side, and spread her
a soft bed of leaves. There was now hope that
she would recover sufficiently to be sent to St.
Louis to be nursed. ;
That night, an infernal brute of a troop horse
that had already killed Ludlow’s charger, led by
some fiendish spirit, broke into Vixen’s enclosure,
and with one kick laid open her hock joint.
In vain they told me that she was incurable.
T could not let her die now, when she was just
restored to me; and I forced from De Grandéle
the confession that she might be slung up and
é
32 WHIP AND SPUR.
so bound that the wound would heal, although
the joint must be stiff She could never carry
me again, but she could be my pet; and I
would send her home, and make her happy for
many a long year yet. We moved camp two
miles, to the edge of the town, and she followed,
painfully and slowly, the injured limb dragging
behind her ; I could not give her up. She was
picketed near my tent, and for some days grew
no worse.
Finally, one lovely Sunday morning, I found
her sitting on her haunches like a dog, patient
and gentle, and wondering at her pain. She re-
mained in this position all day, refusing food. I
stroked her velvet crest, and coaxed her with
sugar. She rubbed her nose against my arm,
and was evidently thankful for my caresses, but
she showed no disposition to rise. The adjutant
led me into my tent as he would have led me
from the bedside of a dying friend. I turned to
look back at poor Vixen, and she gave me a
little neigh of farewell.
They told me then, and they told it very ten-
VIX. 43
derly, that there was no possibility that she
could get well in camp, and that they wanted
me to give her over to them. The adjutant
sat by me, and talked of the old days when I
had had her at home, and when he had known
her well. We brought back all of her pleasant
ways, and agreed that her trouble ought to be
ended.
As we talked, a single shot was fired, and all
was over. The setting sun was shining through
the bare November branches, and lay warm in
my open tent-front. The band, which had been
brought out for the only funeral ceremony,
breathed softly Kreutzer’s touching “Die Ka-
pelle,” and the sun went down on one of the
very sad days of my life.
The next morning I carved deeply in the
bark of a great oak-tree, at the side of the
Pacific Railroad, beneath which they had buried
my lovely mare, a simple VIX; and some day
I shall go to scrape the moss from the inscrip-
tion.
RU BY.
|] WAS a colonel commanding a regiment
of German cavalrymen in South Mis-
souri, and must have a horse; it was
desirable to be conspicuously well mounted, and
so it must be a showy horse; being a heavy
weight and a rough rider, it must be a good
horse. With less rank, I might have been com-
pelled to take a very ordinary mount and be
content : my vanity would not have availed me,
and my rough riding must have ceased.
But I was chief ruler of the little world that
lay encamped on the beautiful banks of the Rou-
bie d’Eaux; and probably life was easier to all
under me when I was satisfied and happy. Iam
not conscious of having been mean and crabbed,
or of favoring those who favored me to the disad-
t
RUBY. 3:
wv
vantage of those who did not. I cannot recall
an instance of taking a bribe, even in the form
of a pleasant smile. It was probably easier, in
the long run, to be fair than to be unfair, and
therefore the laziest private ever ordered on extra
duty could not lay his hand on his heart and say
he thinks it was done because he was not diligent
in foraging for turkeys and hens for my private
mess. I had very early in life been impressed
with the consciousness that the way of the trans-
gressor ig not easy ; and as I wanted my way to
be easy, I fell into the way of not transgressing.
This may not have been a very worthy motive
to actuate the conduct of a military commander ;
but perhaps it was as good as the average in
our Department of the Southwest, where, if the
truth must be told, virtue did not have it all its
own way, —we were difterent from troops farther
east ; and although it made me sometimes wince
to have my conduct ascribed to a noble upright-
ness of purpose, and showed that it would really
have been more honest not to have been quite
so good, yet one should perhaps be satisfied with
36 WHIP AND SPUR.
having carried out one’s intention of treating every
man in the command, officer or soldier, as nearly
as he should be treated as the interests of the pub-
lic service, the good of the individual himself, and
one’s own personal convenience would allow.
Therefore, I say, I am not conscious of having
favored those who favored me, to the disadvan-
tage of those who did not; neither do I think
that (at this stage of our acquaintance) the Grafs
and Barons and simple Mister Vons, of whom the
command was so largely composed, entertained
the hope of personal benefit when they laid their
kindnesses at my accustomed feet, and tried to
smooth my way of life.
The headquarters’ mess was generally well sup-
plied, —and no questions asked. My relations
with most of the command were kindly, and it
apparently came to be understood — for German
cavalrymen are not without intelligence — that
the happiness of the individual members of the
regiment depended rather on the happiness of
its colonel than on any direct bids for his favor.
Be this as it may, I am not conscious of having
RUBY. oT
received such direct appeals, and I am entirely
conscious of the fullest measure of happiness
that my circumstances would allow; not an ec-
stasy of delight, —far from that, — but a com-
fortable sense of such well-fed, well-paid, well-
encamped, and pleasantly occupied virtue as had
left nothing undone that my subordinates could
be made to do, and did nothing that my condi-
tions rendered difficult. My own good-humor
was equalled’ by that of the regiment at large,
and the beetling sides of the Ozark valleys no-
where sheltered a happier campful of jolly good
fellows than the Vierte Missouri Cavalry.
We lay on the marvellous Roubie d’Eaux, at its
source; no such babbling brook as trickles from
the hillside springs of New England, but a roar-
ing torrent, breaking at once from a fathomless
vent in the mountain. The processes of forma-
tion with these South Missouri rivers are all hid-
den from sight, but, far away in the topmost
caves of the Ozark hills, the little streamlets
trickle, and unite for a larger and ever larger
flow, gorging at last the huge caverns of the lime-
38 WHIP AND SPUR.
stone rock and bursting upon the world a full-
grown river. Within our camp this wonderful
spring broke forth, and close at hand was a large
grist-mill that it drove. We were a self-sustain-
ing community, —in this, that we foraged our
own corn and ground our own meal. With simi-
lar industry we provided ourselves with fish, flesh,
and fowl.
The trees were bare with the November frosts,
but the Indian summer had come, and, day after
day, it bathed every twig and spray with its am-
ber breath, warming all nature to a second life,
and floating the remoter hills far away into a hazy
dreamland.
But personally, notwithstanding all this, I was
not content: I was practically a dismounted cav-
alryman. Indeed, it would even have been a pity
to see a colonel of infantry riding such brutes as
fell to my lot, for good weight-carriers were rare
in that section. I had paid a very high price for
a young thoroughbred stallion (afterwards, hap-
pily, sold for a large advance), only to find him a
year too young for his work, and the regiment
RUBY. 39
had been scoured in vain for an available mount.
I would have gone any reasonable length, even in
injustice, to secure such an animal as was needed.
It was not easy to make up one’s mind to order
a soldier to give up a horse he was fond of, and
some soldier had an especial fondness for all but
the worthless brutes. My reluctance to do this
was perhaps not lessened by the fact that it was
forbidden for officers to ride United States horses.
It finally became evident that the chances were
very small of ever finding a suitable animal, and
I even went out, on one shooting excursion,
mounted on a mule.
Up to this time the regiment had been all that
could be asked, but now it seemed to contain
a thousand ill-tempered, sore-headed men. The
whole camp was awry. Some of the officers inti-
mated that this was all the fault of the adjutant ;
that the orders from headquarters had lately been
unusually harsh. This officer, when remonstrated
with, insisted that he had only transmitted the
exact orders given him, and I knew that my own
action had always been reasonable, — on principle
40 WHIP AND SPUR.
so. Sometimes one almost wished himself back
in civil life, away from such constant annoy-
ances.
We had in the regiment one Captain Graf von
Gluckmansklegge, who was in many respects the
most accomplished and skilful officer of us all.
His life had been passed in the profession, and he
had only left his position of major in a Bavarian
Uhlan regiment to draw his sabre in defence of
‘die Freiheit,” in America, as senior captain of
the Fourth Missouri Cavalry. He was an officer
of Asboth’s selection, and had many of that vet-
eran’s qualities. ‘Tall, thin, of elegant figure, as
perfect a horseman as good natural advantages
and good training could make, and near-sighted,
as a German cavalry officer must be, he was as
natty a fellow as ever wore an eye-glass and a
blond mustache. He was, at the same time, a
man of keen worldly shrewdness and of quick
judgment,— qualities which, in his case, may
have been sharpened by long practice at those
games of chance with which it has not been unu-
sual for European officers to preface their coming
RUBY. 4]
to draw their sabres in defence of “die Freiheit”
in America.
With Gluckmansklegge I had always been on
friendly terms. Among the many lessons of his
life he had learned none more thoroughly than
the best way to treat his commanding officer ;
and there was in his manner an air of friendly
deference and of cordial submission to rank,
accompanied by a degree of personal dignity,
that elevated the colonel rather than lowered
the captain, —a manner that probably makes
its way with a newly fledged officer more surely
than any other form of appeal to his vanity.
One sometimes saw a brand-new second-lieuten-
ant made happier than a king by this same
touch of skill from an old soldier in his com-
pany, whom he knew to be far his superior in
all matters of service. To be quite frank, if I
have an element of snobbishness in my own or-
ganization, it has been more nurtured into life
by the military deference of better soldiers than
myself under my command than by all other
influences combined ; thus modified do the best
42 WHIP AND SPUR.
of us become in the presence of unmerited
praise.
One evening Gluckmansklegge came to my tent
door: “ Escoose, Col-o-nel, may I come?” And
then, flinging out his eye-glass with a toss of
the head, he went on, with his imperfect Eng-
lish, to tell me he had just learned from his
lieutenant that I could find no horse to suit
me; that he had a good one strong enough for
my weight, and, he thought, even good enough
for my needs. He had bought him in St. Louis
from the quartermaster, and would I oblige
him by trying him? He was quite at my ser-
vice, at the government price, for he, being
lighter, could easily replace him. Did I remem-
ber his horse, — his “Fuchs”? ‘He is good,
nice, strong horse, an he yoomp! — yei!!”
I did remember his horse, and I had seen
him “yoomp.” It had long been a subject of
regret to think that such an animal should be
in the regiment, yet not on my own picket-line.
It was well known that great prices had been
offered for him, only to make Gluckmansklegge
RUBY. 43
fling his eye-glass loose, and grin in derision.
“Fuchs is—how you call?— ‘heelty,’ an ge-
sund ; wenn you like, your Ike will go to my
company to bring him.” I did like, and I had
no scruples against buying him for one hundred
and twenty-five dollars. Ike, a handsome con-
traband, went early the next morning with a
halter for the Fuchs, and I was up bright and
betimes to try him.
I had only seen the horse before under the
saddle, perfectly equipped, perfectly bitted, and
perfectly ridden, an almost ideal charger. There
was a great firebrand scar on the flat of
each shoulder, where he had been fired for a
cough, — so said Gluckmansklegge ; — others in-
timated that this effaced a U. S. brand; but,
except this, not a sign of a blemish. In form,
action, style, color (chestnut), and training he
was unexceptionably good, and might well ex-
cite the envy of all good horsemen who saw him
under the saddle. Knowing him so well, I went
rather eagerly to the picket-line to refresh my-
self with the added sensation that the actual
ownership of such a horse must give.
44 WHIP AND SPUR.
There stood the new purchase, —a picture of
the most abject misery; his hind legs drawn
under him; the immense muscles of his hips
lying flabby, like a cart-horse’s; his head hang-
ing to the level of his knees, and his under-lip
drooping ; his eyes half shut, and his long ears
falling out sidewise like a sleepy mule’s. I had
bought him for a safe price, and he would prob-
ably do to carry Ike and the saddle-bags; but
I felt as far as ever from a mount for myself,
and went back to my tent wiser and no hap-
pier than before.
Presently Ike appeared with the coffee, and
asked how I liked the new horse.
“Not at all.”
“Don’t ye? well now, I reckon he’s a consid’-
able of a hoss.”
I sent him to look at him again, and he came
back with a very thoughtful air, — evidently he
had been impressed. At last he said, ‘‘ Well now,
Colonel, I don’t reckon you bought that hoss to
look at him on the picket-line, did ye?”
“No, Ike, or he should be sold out very
RUBY. +
pee Re ee a aa a
cheap; but he is not the kind of horse I sup-
Ld)
posed he was; he ought to work in a mule-
team.”
“Well now, Colonel, mebbe he is; but you
can’t never tell nothin’ about a hoss till you
get him between ye; and I reckon he’s a con-
sid’able of a hoss, I reckon he is.”
Ike was wise, in his way, and his way was a
very horsy one,— so my hopes revived a little ;
and when Gluckmansklegge came up on a capi-
tal little beast he had been handling (secretly
to replace the Fuchs), I had the new venture
saddled and brought round. He came blunder-
ing along, head and ears and tail down, and
stood like a leathern horse for me to mount,
Gluckmansklegge dropping his eye-glass and grin-
ning. It was as well to find out first as last
whether he had anything in him or not, and I
gathered up the curb-rein, which brought his
head into superb position and settled him well
back upon his haunches; but, as the movement
had been made with dignity, I gave him both
heels, firmly, — when we went sailing ! — how
46 WHIP AND SPUR.
high I don’t know, probably not fifteen feet, but
it seemed that, and covering a good stretch to
the front. It was the most enormous lift I had
ever had, and (after an appreciable time in the
air), when he landed square on all four feet, it
was to strike a spanking, even trot, the bit play-
ing loose in his mouth, his head swaying easily
with his step, and his tail flying. I had never
been more amazed in my life than by the won-
derful grace and agility of this splendid brute.
As he trotted along with his high, strong, and
perfectly cadenced step, he showed in the swing
of his head all the satisfaction of an athlete turn-
ing, conscious, lightly away from the footlights,
after his especial tour de force.
As Gluckmansklegge rode up, he said, “ Well,
Col-o-nel, how you like? Nice pretty strong
horse, what ?”
And then, his English failing him, he fell,
through an attempt at French, into German, in
which his tongue was far more ready than my
ear. Still it was easy to gather enough to un-
derstand some of the processes by which the
RUBY. 47
animal’s natural qualifications for his work had
been developed into such unusual accomplish-
ments; and then he glided into the compliment-
ary assertion that no one but the colonel of his
regiment could ever have hoped to buy him at
any price, —and of course he did not consider it
a sale. His original outlay, which he could not
afford to lose, had been reimbursed ; but the
true value of the horse, his education, he was
only too glad to give me. And then, the pleas-
ure of seeing his colonel suitably mounted, and
the satisfaction of seeing the horse properly rid-
den, really threw the obligation on his side.
Then, with his inimitable naiveté, he not only
expressed, but demonstrated, in every look and
gesture, more delight in watching our move-
ments than he had felt in his own riding.
“Praise a horseman for his horsemanship, and
he will ride to the Devil.” Gluckmansklegge (I
did not suspect him of a desire for promotion)
pointed to a strong rail-fence near by, and sug-
gested that the combination of man and horse
for that sort of thing was unusual. Whether it
48 WHIP AND SPOR.
was a banter or a compliment, it would have
been impossible for any man who properly es-
teemed himself and his riding to stop to con-
sider. Turned toward the fence, the Fuchs,
checking his speed, seemed to creep toward it,
as a cat would, making it very uncertain what
he proposed; but as he came nearer to it, that
willingness to leap that an accustomed rider will
always recognize communicated itself to me, and,
with perfect judgment, but with a force and
spirit | had never hoped to meet in a horse cf
this world, he carried me over the enormous
height, and landed like a deer, among the stumps
and brush on the other side, and trotted gayly
away, athlete-like again, happier and prouder
than ever horse was before.
Sitting that evening at my tent door, opposite
the spring, bragging, as the custom is, over the
new purchase, it occurred to me that that stream of
water and that bit of horse-flesh had some quali-
ties alike; so I christened the latter “ Roubie
d’Eaux,” which was soon translated and short-
ened to “Ruby,”
throughout the regiment.
a name henceforth familiar
RUBY. 49
To become my property was the only thing
needed to make him perfect, for Ike was born
in a racing stud in Kentucky, and had practised
all the arts of the craft, up to the time when, be-
ing both jockey and “the stakes” in a race he
rode, he was lost to a Missouri gentleman of for-
tune, and became a body-servant. He was once
confidential : —
“Well, now, Colonel, you see, this is how it
was: I hadn’t nothin’ agin my master, —he
was a right nice man; but then, you see, he
drinked, and I didn’t know what might become
of me some time. Then, you see, I knowed this
man was stiddy, an’ he’d jess done bought a
yallar gal I kinder had a notion for, an’ so, —
don’t ye see why?—well, the hoss could have
won the race fast enough, but then, you see, my
master, — well, he was a drinkin’ kind of a man,
an’ I thought I might as well fix it. I knowed
I was up for stakes, an’ that’s how I come to
Missouri ; I ain’t no Missouri man born, but that’s
how it was.”
He had become a good body-servant without
3 D
50 WHIP AND SPUR.
forgetting his stable training, and his horses bore
testimony to his skill and fidelity. After going
through the routine of a well-regulated stable,
he gave each horse a half-hour’s stroking with
the flat of his hands, brisk and invigorating ; and
the result was a more blooming condition and
more vigorous health than is often seen in horses
on a campaign. The best substitute that could
be secured for a stable was a very heavy canvas
blanket, covering the horse from his ears to his
tail and down to his knees, water-proof and wind-
proof. It was a standing entertainment with the
less dignified members of the mess to invite at-
tention to Ruby as he stood moping under this
hideous housing. Certainly I never saw him thus
without thinking that his time had at last come,
and that he surely would never again be able to
carry me creditably. Yet, as Ike’s devotion con-
tinued, he grew better and better, commanding
daily more of the respect and admiration of all
who knew him, and attaching himself to me more
and more as we learned each other’s wavs.
One never loves but one horse entirely, and
RUBY. 51
so Ruby never quite filled Vixen’s place; but
as a serviceable friend, he was all that could be
desired. The unsupplied want of my life, that
had made me restless and discontented, was now
satisfied, and my duties became easy, and my
pastimes (the principal times of South Missouri
warfare) entirely agreeable.
It was no slight addition to these sources of °
contentment to feel that the command had at last
awakened to a sense of its dereliction, and was
fast reforming its ways. I had hardly owned
Ruby for a fortnight before the old cheerfulness
and alacrity returned to the regiment, and by the
time we broke up our camp on the Roubie d’EKaux
and went over to Lebanon for the shooting sea-
son, the entire organization was in a most satis-
factory condition.
Our life in Lebanon was an episode of the war
that we shall not soon forget. To the best of my
knowledge and belief, after Price had retreated
from Pea Ridge, the only organized forces of armed
Rebels to be found north of the White River were
local bands of jay-hawkers, whose rebellion was
52 WHIP AND SPUR.
mainly directed against the laws of property, and
the actuating motive of whose military movements
was “nags.” The stealing of horses, with the
consequent application of Lynch law, was all that
the native male population had to keep them
out of mischief, for weeks and weeks together.
There was just enough of this sort of armed
lawlessness to furnish us with a semblance of
duty ; not enough seriously to interrupt our more
regular avocations.
Lebanon is on the high table-land of the
Ozarks, in the heart of a country flowing with
prairie-hens and wild turkeys, and _ bountifully
productive of the more humdrum necessaries
of life. Thanks to the fleeing of Rebel fam-
ilies, we found comfortable quarters without. too
severely oppressing those who had remained.
What with moving the court-house away from
the public square, leaving the space free for a
parade, and substituting a garrison flag-staff for
the town pump, we kept our men from rust-
ing; and when, after a time, we had established
a comfortable post-hospital and a commodious
RUBY. a3
military prison, Lebanon was as complete and
well-ordered a station as could be found in South
Missouri. I had the questionable honor and the
unquestionable comfort. of holding its command
from the end of January to the end of April, —
three dreamy months, that seem now to have
been passed in a shooting-lodge, under favorable
auspices.
As a legacy of the “Hundred Days,” when
the ‘‘ Fourth Missouri” was the “Frémont Hus-
sars,” we had an able-bodied and extremely well-
selected regimental band, that soothed our over-
tasked senses when we came in from our work
in the fields, gathering where our enemies had
sown, and (under the suspended game-laws of
the State) shooting grouse and quail in the early
spring.
Naturally, most of my official duties were such
as could be performed by an extremely well-reg-
ulated adjutant; and I usually passed his busy
half-hour (in private) with Ruby. There had
been an impetuosity about the horse at the out-
set which it was desirable to quell, and I rode
54 WHIP AND SPUR.
him regularly in a nicely fenced kitchen-garden,
where, after he learned that fences are not always
intended for leaping-bars, he fell slowly into the
routine of the training-school, and easily acquired
a perfect self-command and aplomb that enabled
him, under all circumstances, to await his rider’s
instructions.
I wish that less account had been made, in the
writings of those whose horse-stories have pre-
ceded mine, of the specified feats of their ani-
mals. The réle of a horse’s performances is
necessarily limited, and it is probably impossible
for a well-constituted mind to recite the simple
story of his deeds without seeming to draw
largely on the imagination. Consequently, an
unexaggerated account of what Ruby actually
did (and I cannot bring my mind to an embel-
lishment of the truth) would hardly interest a
public whose fancy has been thus pampered and
spoiled. But for this, these pages could be filled
with instances of his strength and agility that
would almost tax belief. Suffice it to say that
while, like most good high leapers, he would cover
RUBY. 55
but a moderate breadth of water, he would get
over anything reasonable in the shape of a fence
that could be found about the town.
I was a heavy weight, — riding nearly two hun-
dred pounds, —and necessarily rode with judg-
ment. If there was a low place in a fence, we
never chose a high one; but, at the same time,
if there were no low places, we took the best we
could find. Ruby seemed to know that the two
of us were solid enough to break through any
ordinary pile of rails, and what we could not jump
over we Jumped at. More than once did he carry
away the top rail of a snake fence with his knees,
and land fair and square on the other side; but
it was a very high leap that made this necessary.
He would jump on to the porch of the quarter-
master’s office (approached from the ground by
four steps), and then jump over the hand-rail and
land on the ground below again, almost wagging
his tail with delight at the feat.
His ear was quicker than mine for the peeping
of quail and for the drumming of grouse, and,
in the absence of a good dog, there is no doubt
56 WHIP AND SPUR.
that my pot (for which alone I have been said to
hunt) was better filled by reason of his intelli-
gence in the field, and because he would allow
one to shoot from the saddle. The birds never
mistook me for a sportsman until I was quite
in among them, blazing away.
In coming home from the prairie, we generally
rode round by the way of a certain sunken garden
that stood a couple of feet below the level of the
road. A five-foot picket-fence that stood at the
roadside had fallen over toward the garden, so
that its top was hardly four feet higher than the
road. This made the most satisfactory leap we
ever took,—the long, sailing descent, and the
safe landing on sandy loam, satisfied so com-
pletely one’s prudent love of danger.
I think I missed this leap more than anything
at Lebanon when, finally, we set out for Arkansas.
We made our first considerable halt early in
May, at Batesville, on the White River, — a lovely,
rose-grown village, carrying, in the neatly kept
home of its New England secessionists, evidence
that they remembered their native land, where, in
RUBY.
their day, before the age of railroads, the “ vil-
lage” flourished in all its freshness and simplicity.
It had now acquired the picturesque dilapidation,
in the manner of fences and gates and defective
window-panes, that marked the Southern domicile
during the war. Ruby had strained himself quite
seriously during the march, and had been left to
come on slowly with the quartermaster’s train.
This left me quite free for the social life, such
as it was, to which we —the only available men
that had been seen there since Price gathered his
forces at Springfield — were welcomed with a
reserved cordiality. Our facilities for forming
a correct opinion of society were not especially
good, but I fancied I should have passed my time
to as good advantage in the saddle.
We soon left for an active expedition in the di-
rection of Little Rock, of which it is only neces-
sary to say, here, that it lasted about a month,
and brought the writer acquainted with some very
unsatisfactory horses, —a fact which heightened
his pleasure, on striking the White River bottom
again, at finding that Ruby had been brought
3 *
58 WHIP AND SPUR.
over the ferry to meet him. Tired as I was, 1
+ook a glorious brisk trot through the Canebrake
Road, with a couple of leaps over fallen trees,
that revived the old emotions and made a man
of me again.
While we lay at Batesville we were unusu-
ally active in the matter of drill and _ reor-
ganization ; and this, with our engagements in
the town, kept us too busy for much recrea-
tion; but Ludlow and I managed to work in a
daily swim in the White River, with old saddles
on our horses, and scant clothing on our _ per-
sons. Talk of aquatic sports! there is no royal
bath without a plucky horse to assist; and a
swim across the swift current at Batesville, with
a horse like Ruby snorting and straining at every
stroke, belittled even the leaping at Lebanon.
From Batesville we commenced our memora-
ble march to join the fleet that had just passed
Memphis, following down the left bank of the
river to Augusta, and then striking across the
cotton country to Helena, — a march on which we
enjoyed the rarest picturesqueness of plantation
RUBY. 59
life, and suffered enough from heat and hunger
and thirst, and stifling, golden dust to more
than pay for it.
Helena was a pestiferous swamp, worth more
than an active campaign to our enemies, filling
our hospitals, and furrowing the levee bank with
graves. It was too hot for much drilling, and
we kept our better horses in order by daybreak
races. With the local fever feeling its way into
my veins, I was too listless to care much for
any diversion; but Ike came to me one evening
to say that he “reckoned” Ruby was as good
a horse as anybody had in the “camps,” and
he might as well take a hand in the games. I
told him I had no objection to his being run,
if he could find a suitable boy, but that both
he and I were too heavy for race-riding.
“JT don’t weigh only about a hundred and a
half,” said the ambitious man.
“Well, suppose you don’t, that is ten pounds
too much.”
“T reckon a man can ride ten pound lighter
’n he is if he knows how to ride; anyhow, if
60 WHIP AND SPOR.
Rube can’t skin anything around here, I don't
know nothin’ about horses.”
“Ike, did you ever run that horse?”
“Well, Colonel, now you ask me, I did jest
give Dwight’s darkey a little brush once.”
Conquering my indignation and my scruples,
I went over, just for the honor of the establish-
ment, and made up a race for the next day.
I have seen crack race-horses in my time, but
I never saw more artistic riding nor more capl-
tal running than that summer morning on the
River Road at Helena, just as the sun began to
gild the muddy Mississippi. The satisfaction of
this conquest, and the activity with which new
engagements were offered by ambitious lieuten-
ants, who little knew the stuff my man and
horse were made of, kept off my fever for some
weeks ; but I steadily declined all opportunity
of racing with horses outside of our command,
for I had been reared in a school of Puritan
severity, and had never quite overcome my con-
victions against the public turf. A corporal of
an “Injeanny regement” took occasion to crow
RUBY. 61
lustily — so I heard —because “one of them
French coveys” was afraid to run him a quar-
ter for five dollars. It appeared that a cleanly
European was always supposed by this gentry
to be French; and in the army at large I was
better known by the company I kept than by
my New England characteristics.
Naturally, Ike thought that, while Ruby was
engaged in this more legitimate occupation, he
ought not to be ridden for mere pleasure; and it
was only when a visitor was to be entertained,
or when I went out on plea of duty, that I
could steal an opportunity to leap him; but he
took one fence that fairly did him credit. It
was a snake fence measuring four feet and two
inches, with a deep ditch on each side cut close
to the projecting angles of the rails. Ruby car-
ried me over the first ditch into the angle be-
tween the rails, then over the fence into the
narrow space on the other side, and then over
the second ditch into the field. It was the most
perfect combination of skill, strength, and judg-
ment that was possible to horse-flesh ; and I think
62 WHIP AND SPUR.
Gluckmansklegge, who was with me and had sug-
gested the venture, despaired of ever getting his
promotion by any fair means, when we rejoined
him by the return leap and rode safely to camp.
Unhappily, even entire satisfaction with one’s
horse is powerless to ward off such malaria as
that of the camp at Helena, and in due time
I fell ill with the fever. The horse was turned
over to the care of the quartermaster, and Ike
and I came wearily home on sick-leave.
Late in the autumn we returned to St. Louis,
where one of the German officers told me that
the regiment had joined Davidson’s army at “ Pi-
lot K-nopp”; and after the Hun, our new ad-
jutant, arrived from the East, we set out for
headquarters, and took command of the cavalry
brigade of Davidson’s army.
From November until January we were tossed
about from post to post, wearing out our horses,
wearying our men, and accomplishing absolutely
nothing of value beyond the destruction of an
enormous amount of the rough forage, which
wculd otherwise have been used to feed ‘nags,”
RUBY. 63
— stolen or to be stolen, — and would have thus
tended to foster the prevailing vice of the region.
At last we settled down in a pleasant camp at
Thomasville, —a good twelve miles away from
Davidson, — and were at rest ; it was only those
near him who suffered from his fitful caprices,
and he was now encamped with the infantry.
Pleasant as we found it with our little duty
and much sport, I can never look back to Thom-
asville without sorrow. To say that I had ac-
quired a tenderness for Ruby would not be
strictly just; but I felt for him all the respect
and admiration and fondness that is possible short
of love. Vix had been my heroine, and my only
one; but Ruby was my hero, and I depended on
him for my duty and my pleasure more than I
knew. With his full measure of intelligence he
had learned exactly his réle, and he was always
eager, whenever occasion offered, to show the world
what a remarkably fine horse I had, — being him-
self conscious, not only of his unusual virtues,
but, no less, of the praise they elicited.
One sunny Southern day, toward the end of
64 WHIP AND SPUR.
January, Davidson had ridden over, with his fol-
lowing, to dine with us; and as we were sitting
before our mess-tent, mellow with after-dinner
talk of our guns and our dogs and our horses,
the General was good enough to remember that
he had seen me riding a chestnut that he thought
much too finely bred for field work : had I been
able to keep him? Then Ruby was discussed,
and all his successes were recalled, first by one
friend and then by another, until Davidson needed
ocular proof of our truthfulness.
Ike had taken the hint, and brought Ruby
round in due time, — glistening like gold in the
slanting rays of the setting sun, but blundering
along with his head down and ears drooping in
his old, dismal way. .
“© no, I don’t mean that horse,” said David-
son; “I mean a very high-strung horse I have
seen you ride on the march.”
“Very well, General, that is the animal; he
keeps his strings loose when he is not at his
work.”
“No, I have seen you riding a far better horse
RUBY. 65
—
than that; I am too old a cavalryman to be
caught by such chaff.”
To the great glee of the Hun, whose faith in
Ruby was unbounded, Davidson’s whole staff
turned the laugh on me for trying to deceive
the General just because he had been dining.
I mounted, and started off with one of Ruby’s
enormous lifts, that brought the whole company
to their feet. It was the supreme moment with
him. Full of consciousness, as though he knew
the opportunity would never come again, and
quivering in anticipation of his triumph, he was
yet true to his training, and held himself subject
to my least impulse.
We had lain in our camp for more than a week,
and there was not a vestige left of the recently
substantial fences, — only the suggestive and con-
spicuous gateways that stood to mark the march
of our armies from the Chesapeake to the Indian
Nation. But Ruby built fences in his imagina-
tion higher than any he had ever faced, and
cleared them without a scratch, landing close as
though the Helena ditch were still to be taken.
E
66 WHIP AND SPUR.
It would take long to tell all he did and how
perfectly he did it; he went back at last to his
canvas blanket, loaded with adulation, and as
happy as it is given a horse to be.
In his leaping he had started a shoe, and Ike
took him in the morning to the smith (who had
taken possession of an actual forge), to have it
reset. A moment later, the Hun cried, “ My
God, Colonel, look at Ruby!”
Hobbling along with one hind foot drawn up
with pain, he was making his last mournful
march, and we laid him that day to rest, — as true
a friend and as faithful a fellow as ever wore a
chestnut coat.
He had reared in the shop, parted his halter,
and fallen under a bench, breaking his thigh far
up above the stifle.
WETPTSTEIN.
D
= |l is a pleasant thing to be a colonel of
iS
SD
cavalry in active field-service. There
are circumstances of authority and re-
sponsibility that fan the latent spark of barbarism
which, however dull, glows in all our breasts, and
which generations of republican civilization have
been powerless to quench. We may not have con-
fessed it even to ourselves; but on looking back
to the years of the war, we must recognize many
things that patted our vanity greatly on the back,
— things so different from all the dull routine of
equality and fraternity of home, that those four
years seem to belong to a dream-land, over which
the haze of the life before them and of the life
after them draws a misty veil. Equality and Fra-
ternity ! a pretty sentiment, yes, and full of sen-
68 WHIP AND SPUR.
sible and kindly regard for all mankind, and full
of hope for the men who are to come after us;
but Superiority and Fraternity ! who shall tell all
the secret emotions this implies? To be the head
of the brotherhood, with the unremitted clank
of a guard’s empty scabbard trailing before one’s
tent-door day and night ; with the standard of the
regiment proclaiming the house of chief author-
ity ; with the respectful salute of all passers, and
the natural obedience of all members of the com-
mand; with the shade of deference that even
comrades show to superior rank; and with that
just sufficient check upon coarseness during the
jovial bouts of the headquarters’ mess, making
them not less genial, but void of all offence, —
living in this atmosphere, one almost feels the
breath of feudal days coming modified through
the long tempestuous ages to touch his cheek,
whispering to him that the savage instinct of the
sires has not been, and never will be, quite civil-
ized out of the sons. And then the thousand
men, and the yearly million that they cost, while
they fill the cup of the colonel’s responsibility
WETTSTEIN. 69
(sometimes to overflowing), and give him many
heavy trials, — they are his own men; their use-
fulness is almost of his own creation, and their
renown is his highest glory.
I may not depict the feelings of others ; but
I find in the recollection of my own service —as
succeeding years dull its details and cast the
nimbus of distance about it — the source of emo-
tions which differ widely from those to which our
modern life has schooled us.
One of the colonel’s constant attendants is the
chief bugler, or, as he is called in hussar Dutch,
the “Stabstrompaytr”; mine was the prince of
Trompaytrs, and his name was Wettstein. He
was a Swiss, whose native language was a mixture
of guttural French and mincing German. Eng-
lish was an impossible field to him. He had
learned to say “yes” and “matches”; but not
one other of our words could he ever lay his
tongue to, except the universal “damn.” But
for his bugle and his little gray mare, I should
never have had occasion to know his worth. Mu-
sic filled every pore of his Alpine soul, and his
70 WHIP AND SPUR.
wonderful Swiss ‘‘ Retreat” must ring to this day
in the memory of every man of the regiment
whose thoughts turn again to the romantic cam-
paign of South Missouri. What with other bu-
glers was a matter of routine training was with
him an inspiration. All knew well enough the
meaning of the commands that the company
trumpets stammered or blared forth; but when
they rang from Wettstein’s horn, they carried
with them a wm and energy that secured their
prompt execution ; and his note in the wild Ozark
Hills would mark the headquarters of the ‘‘ Vierte
Missouri” for miles around. From a hill-top, half
a mile in advance of the marching command, I
have turned the regiment into its camping-ground
and dismounted it in perfect order by the melo-
dious telegraphy of Wettstein’s brazen lips alone.
That other chief attribute of his, Klitschka,
his little beast, stayed longer with me than his
bugle did, and is hardly less identified with the
varied reminiscences of my army life. I bought
her, as a prize, with the original mount of the
regiment, in Frémont’s time, and was mildly
WETTSTEIN. ral
informed by that officer that I must be careful
how I accepted many such animals from the con-
tractor, though a few for the smaller men might
answer. Asboth, Frémont’s chief of staff, with
a scornful rolling up of his cataract of a mus-
tache, and a shrug of his broad, thin shoulders,
said, “ Whyfor you buy such horses? What your
bugler ride, it is not a horse, it is a cat.” His
remark was not intended as a question, and it
ended the conversation. Months after that, he
eagerly begged for the nine-lived Klitschka for
one of his orderlies; being refused him, she re
mained good to the end. She was an animal that
defied every rule by which casual observers test
the merit of a horse ; but analytically considered
she was nearly perfect. Better legs, a better
body, and a better head, it is rare to see, than
she had. But she lacked the arched neck and
the proud step that she needed all the more
because of her small size. By no means showy
in figure or in action, it took a second look to
see her perfect fitness for her work. Her color
was iron-gray, and no iron could be tougher than
72 WHIP AND SPUR.
she was ; while her full, prominent eye and ample
brain-room, and her quick paper-thin ear, told of
courage and intelligence that made her invaluable
throughout four years of hard and often danger-
ous service. Like many other ill-favored little
people, she was very lovable, and Wettstein loved
her like a woman. He would never hesitate to
relax those strict rules of conduct by which Ger-
man cavalrymen are supposed to govern them-
selves, if it was a question of stealing forage for
Klitschka; and he was (amiable fellow!) never
so happy as when, from a scanty supply in the
country, he had taken enough oat-sheaves to bed
her in and almost cover her up, while other
horses of the command must go hungry; and
was never so shaken in his regard for me as
when I made him give up all but double rations
for her.
Double rations she often earned, for Wettstein
was a heavy youth, with a constitutional passion
for baggage out of all proportion to his means
of transportation. Mounted for the march, he
was an odd sight. Little Klitschka’s back, with
WETTSTEIN. 73
A RS Se ea ke Se ees iad ee
his immense rolls of blankets and clothing betore
and behind, looked like a dromedary’s. Planted
between the humps, straight as a gun-barrel, the
brightest of bugles suspended across his back by
its tasselled yellow braid, slashed like a harlequin
over the breast, his arms chevroned with gorgeous
gold, — Wettstein, with his cap-front turned up
so as to let the sun fall full on his frank blue eyes
and his resolute blond mustache, was the very
picture of a cavalry bugler in active campaign.
Smoking, gabbling, singing, rollicking, from
morning until night, and still on until morning
again if need be, he never lost spirit nor temper.
He seemed to absorb sunshine enough during the
day to keep every one bright around him all night.
When at last his bugle had been stilled forever,
we long missed the cheer of his indomitable gay-
ety ; wearying service became more irksome than
while his bubbling mirth had tempered its dul-
ness; and even little Klitschka, although she
remained an example of steady pluck, had never
so potent an influence as while he had put his
own unfailing mettle into her heels. After she
4
74. WHIP AND SPUR.
was bequeathed to me, she was always most
useful, but never so gay and frisky as while she
carried her own devoted groom. No day was too
long for her and no road too heavy; her brisk
trot knew no failing, but she refused ever again
to form the personal attachment that had sealed
her and Wettstein to each other.
The two of them together, like the fabled Cen-
taur, made the complete creature. He with the
hardened frame and bright nature of his Alpine
race, and she with her veins full of the mustang
blood of the Rocky Mountains, were fitted to each
other as almost never were horse and rider before.
Their performances were astonishing. In addi-
tion to a constant attendance on his commander
(who, riding without baggage, and of no heavier
person than Wettstein himself, sometimes fagged
out three good horses between one morning
and the next), the Trompaytr yet volunteered
for all sorts of extra service, — carried messages
over miles of bad road to the general’s camp,
gave riding-lessons and music-lessons to the com-
pany buglers, and then — fear of the guard-house
WETTSTEIN. 5
and fear of capture always unheeded — he never
missed an opportunity for the most hazardous and
most laborious foraging.
He was a thorough soldier, — always ‘for duty,”
always cleanly, always handsome and cheery, and
heedlessly brave. If detected in a fault (and he
was, as I have hinted, an incorrigible forager), he
took his punishment like a man, and stole milk
for himself or fodder for Klitschka at the next
convenient (or inconvenient) opportunity, with an
imperturbability that no punishment could reach.
Once, when supplies were short, he sent me,
from the gttard-house where he had been confined
for getting them, a dozen bundles of corn-blades
for my horses; not as a bribe, but because he
would not allow the incidents of discipline to dis-
turb our friendly relations; and in the matter of
fodder in scarce times he held me as a helpless
pensioner, dependent on his bounty. When in
arrest by my order, his “ Pon chour, Herr Ober-
ist,” was as cordial and happy as when he strolled
free past my tent. Altogether, I never saw his
like before or since. The good fortune to get
76 WHIP AND SPOR.
such a bugle, such a soldier, and such a mount
combined, comes but once in the lifetime of the
luckiest officer. It was only his uncouth tongue
that kept him from being pilfered from me by
every general who had the power to “ detail”
him to his own headquarters.
So universal, by the way, was this petty vice
of commanding officers, that one was never safe
until he adopted the plan, in selecting a staff
officer, of securing his promise to resign from the
service, point-blank, if ordered to other duty, and
more than one offended general has been made
indignant by this policy. With Wettstein, I felt
perfectly easy, for the average capacity of briga-
dier-generals stopped far short of the analysis of
his dual jargon. Several tried him for a day,
but they found that his comprehension was no
better than his speech, and that his manifest
ability was a sealed book to them. He always
came home by nightfall with a chuckle, and “ Le
général versteht mich nicht. Je blase ‘ marrrsch’
fir halt! 7
So it was that, for a couple of years, this
WETTSTEIN. a
trusty fellow trotted at my heels through rain
and shine, by day and by night, with his face full
of glee, and his well-filled canteen at the service
of our little staff. Mud and mire, ditches and
fences, were all one to him and Klitschka; and
in Vix’s day they followed her lead over many a
spot that the others had to take by flank move-
ment.
Our work in Missouri was but little more than
the work of subsistence. We were a part of an
army too large for any Rebel force in that re-
gion to attack, and too unwieldy to pursue gue-
rillas with much effect. But now and then we
made a little scout that varied our otherwise
dull lives; and at such times Wettstein always
attached himself to the most dangerous patrol-
ling party, and Klitschka was usually the first
to bring back news of the trifling encounters.
At last, in February, 1863, when we had lain
for a month in delicious idleness in the heart of
a rich country, literally flowing with poultry and
corn-fodder, I, being then in command of a divis-
ion of cavalry, received an order from Davidson
78 WHIP AND SPUR.
to select six hundred of the best-mounted of my
men, and to attack Marmaduke, who was recruit-
ing, ninety miles away, at Batesville on the White
River in Arkansas. His main body, three thou-
sand five hundred strong, lay in the “ Oil-Trough
Bottom,” on the other side of the river. ih ; : : os | LOLS
Eight pounds, twelve shillings, and sixpence ;
which being interpreted means $47.30 in the
lawful currency of the United States. The hunter
and hack for one day cost $ 23.52.
An American friend living with his family in
Leamington (much more cheaply than he could
live at home), kept two hunters and a hack, and
hunted them twice a week for the whole season
(nearly six months) at a cost, including the loss on
his horses, which he sold in the spring, of less
than $1,500. I think this is below the average
expense,
FOX-HUNTING IN ENGLAND. 337
The cost of keeping up a pack of hounds is
very heavy. The hounds themselves, a well-paid
huntsman, two or three whippers-in, two horses
a day for each of these attendants (hunting four
days a week, this would probably require four
horses for each man), and no end of incidental
expenses, bring the cost to fully $20,000 per
annum. This is sometimes paid wholly or in part
by subscription and sometimes entirely by the
Master of the Hounds. One item of my friend’s
expenses at Leamington was a subscription of
ten guineas each to the Warwickshire, North
Warwickshire, Atherstone, and Pytchley hunts.
Something of this sort would be necessary if
one hunted for any considerable time with any
subscription pack, but an occasional visitor is
not expected to contribute.
A stranger participating in the sport need only
be guided by common modesty and common-
sense. However good a horseman he may be,
he cannot make a sensation among the old stagers
of the hunting-field. Probably he will get no
commendation of any sort. If he does, it will be
238 WHIP AND SPUR.
for keeping out of the way of others, — taking
always the easiest and safest road that will bring
him well up with the hounds, not flinching when
a desperate leap must be taken, and following (at
a respectful distance) a good leader, rather than
trying to take the lead himself. However prom-
ising the prospect may be, he had better not do
anything on his own hook ; if he makes a conspic-
uous mistake, he will probably be corrected for it
in plainer English than it is pleasant to hear.
One of the memorable days of my life was the
day before New-Year’s. Ford had secured me a
capital hunter, a well-clipped gelding, over six-
teen hands high, glossy, lean, and wiry as a racer.
“You ’ve got a rare mount to-day, sir,” said the
groom as he held him for me to get up; anda
rare dismount I came near having in the little
measure of capacity with which Master Dick and
I commenced our acquaintance, before we left the
Regent. He was one of those horses whose spirits
are just a little too much for their skins, and all
the way out he kept up a restless questioning of
:
FOX-HUNTING IN ENGLAND. 239
his prospect of having his own way. Still he was
in all this, as in his manner of doing his work
when he got into the open country, such a perfect
counterpart of old Max, who had carried me for
two years in the Southwest, that I was at home
at once. If I had had a hunter made to order, I
could not have been more perfectly suited.
The meet (North Warwickshire) was at Cub-
bington Gate, only two miles from Leamington,
and a very gay meet it was. The road was filled
with carriages, and there was a goodly rabble on
foot. About three hundred, in every variety of
dress, were mounted for the hunt, a dozen or so of
ladies among them. ‘Three of these kept well up
all day, and one of them rode very straight. The
hounds were taken to a wood about a mile to the
eastward of Cubbington, where they soon found a
fox, which led us a very straight course to Prince-
thorpe, about three miles to the northeast.
I had done little fencing for seven or eight
years, and the sort of propulsion one gets in being
carried over a hedge is sufficiently different from
the ordinary impulses of eivil life to suggest at
240 WHIP AND SPUR.
first the element of surprise. Consequently,
though our initial leap was a modest one, I landed
with only one foot in the stirrup and with one
hand in the mane; but I now saw that Dick was
but another name for Max, and this one moderate
failure was enough to recall the old tricks of the
craft. As the opportunity would perhaps never
come again, this one was not to be neglected,
and I resolved to have one fair inside view of real
fox-hunting. Dick was clearly as good a horse as
was out that day ; the leaping was less than that
to which we were used among the worm-fences,
fallen timber, and gullies of Arkansas and Ten-
nessee ; and there was but a plain Anglo-Saxon
name for the only motive that could deter me
from making the most of the occasion. Mr. Lant,
the Master of the Hounds, was not better mounted
for his lighter weight than was I for my fourteen
stone ; and his position as well as his look indi-
cated that he would probably go by the nearest
practicable route to where the fox might lead, so
we kept at a safe distance behind him and well in
his wake. The hesitation and uncertainty which
FOX-HUNTING IN ENGLAND. 241
had at first confused my bridle-hand being re-
moved, my horse, recognizing the changed position
of affairs, settled down to his work like a well-
trained and sensible but eager beast as he was.
From the covert to Princethorpe we took seven
fences and some small ditches, and we got there
with the first half-dozen of the field, both of us
in higher spirits than horse and rider ever get
except by dint of hard going and successful fen-
cing.
Here there was a short check, but the fox was
soon routed out again and made for Waveley
Wood, a couple of miles to the northwest.
Waveley Wood is what is called in England a
“biggish bit of timber,” and the check here was
long enough to allow the whole field to come
up. As we sat chatting and lighting our cigars,
“Tally-ho!” was called from the other side of
the cover, and we splashed through a muddy
cart-road and out into the open just as the
hounds were well away. Now was a ride for dear
life. Every one had on all the speed the heavy
ground would allow. In front of us was a “ bull-
11 P
242 WHIP AND SPUR.
finch” (a neglected hedge, out of which strong
thorny shoots of several years’ growth have run
up ten or twelve feet above it). I had often
heard of bullfinches, and no hunting experience
could be complete without taking one. It was
some distance around by the gate, the pace was
strong, and the spiny fringe had just closed be-
hind Mr. Lant’s red coat as he dropped into the
field beyond. ‘ Follow my leader” is a game
that must be boldly played ; so, settling my hat
well down, holding my bridle-hand low, and coy-
ering my closed eyes with my right elbow, with
the whip-hand over the left shoulder, I put my
heart in my pocket and went at it, and through
it with a crash! An ugly scratch on the fleshy
part of the right hand was the only damage done,
and I was one of the very few near the pack.
Dick and I were now up to anything; we made
very light of a thick tall hedge that came next
in order, and we cleared it like a bird; but we
landed in a pool of standing water, covering
deeply ploughed ground, the horse’s forefeet
sinking so deeply that he could not get them
FOX-HUNTING IN ENGLAND. 243
out in time, and our headway rolled us both
over in the mud, I flat on my back. Dick got
up just in time for his pastern to strike me in
the face as I was rising, giving me a cut lip, a
mouthful of blood, and a black and blue nose-
bridge. My appearance has, on occasions, been
more respectable and my temper more serene
than as I ran, soiled and bleeding, over the
ploughed ground, calling to some workmen to
“catch my horse.”
I was soon up and away again. There seemed
some confusion in the run, and the master being
out of sight, I followed one of the whips as he
struck into a blind path in a wood. It was a
tangled mass of briers, but he went in at full
pace, and evidently there was no time to be lost.
At the other side of the copse there was a set
of low bars, and beyond this a small, slimy ditch.
My leader cleared the bars, but his horse’s hind
feet slipped on the bank of the ditch, and he fell
backwards with an ugly kind of sprawl that I had
no time to examine, for Dick took the leap easily
and soon brought me into a field where, on a little
244 WHIP AND SPOR.
hillock, and quite alone, stood the huntsman, dis-
mounted, holding the dead fox high in his left
hand, while with his long-leashed hunting-crop
he kept the hungry and howling pack at bay.
The master soon came up, as did about a dozen
others, including a bright little boy on a light
little pony. The fox’s head (mask), tail (brush),
and feet (pads) were now cut off and distributed
as trophies under the master’s direction. The
carcass was then thrown to the pack, that fought
and snarled over it until, in a twinkling, the last
morsel had disappeared. This was the “death,”
—by no means the most engaging part of the
amusement. From the find to the killing was
only twenty-five minutes, into which had been
crowded more excitement and more physical
happiness than I had known for many a long
day.
The second cover drawn was not far away.
With this fox we had two hours’ work, mainly
through woods at a walk and with the hounds
frequently at fault, but with some good leaping.
Finally he was run to earth and abandoned.
FOX-HUNTING IN ENGLAND. 245
We then went to a cover near Bubbenhall, but
found no fox, and then, with the same luck, to
another east of Baggington. It was now nearly
four o'clock, growing dusk, and beginning to rain.
The hounds started for their kennels, and Dick
and I took a soft bridle-path skirting the charm-
ing road that leads, under such ivy-clad tree-
trunks and between such hedges as no other land
can show, through Stoneleigh Village and past
Stoneleigh Abbey to Leamington, and a well-
earned rest.
My memorandum for that day closes: “ Horse,
£2 12s. 6d.; Fees, 2s.; and well worth the
money.”
THE END.
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