PART III.

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[Illustration: A woman dressed in riding clothes]

LADIES ON HORSEBACK.

LEARNING, PARK-RIDING, AND HUNTING, WITH HINTS UPON COSTUME, AND

NUMEROUS ANECDOTES.

BY

MRS. POWER O'DONOGHUE

(NANNIE LAMBERT).

AUTHORESS OF "THE KNAVE OF CLUBS," "HORSES AND HORSEMEN,"

"GRANDFATHER'S HUNTER," "ONE IN TEN THOUSAND," "SPRING LEAVES,"

"THOUGHTS ON THE TALMUD," ETC., ETC.

LONDON:

W. H. ALLEN & CO., 13, WATERLOO PLACE, S.W.

1881.

[_All rights reserved._]

LONDON:

PRINTED BY W. H. ALLEN AND CO., 13, WATERLOO PLACE, S.W.

TO MY FRIEND

ALFRED E. T. WATSON, ESQ.,

AUTHOR OF "SKETCHES IN THE HUNTING FIELD," ETC.,

TO WHOM I OWE

MUCH OF MY SUCCESS AS A WRITER,

THESE PAGES

ARE GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED.

Transcriber's Note: The 15 pages of advertisements preceding the title

page have been moved to the end of this book.

INTRODUCTION.

In preparing this work for the press, I may state that it is composed

chiefly of a series of papers on horses and their riders, which

appeared a short time since in the columns of _The Illustrated Sporting

and Dramatic News_. How they originally came to be written and

published may not prove uninteresting.

One day, in the middle of February 1880, a goodly company, comprising

many thousands of persons, assembled upon the lawn of a nobleman's

residence in the vicinity of Dublin; ostensibly for the purpose of

hunting, but in reality to gaze at and chronicle the doings of a very

distinguished foreign lady, who had lately come to our shores. I was

there, of course; and whilst we waited for the Imperial party, I amused

myself by watching the moving panorama, and taking notes of costume and

effect. Everybody who could procure anything upon which to ride, from a

racehorse to a donkey, was there that day, and vehicles of all

descriptions blocked up every available inch of the lordly avenues and

well-kept carriage-drives.

There is for me so great an attraction in a number of "ladies on

horseback" that I looked at them, and at them alone. One sees gentlemen

riders every hour in the day, but ladies comparatively seldom; every

hunting morning finds about a hundred and fifty mounted males ready for

the start, and only on an average about six mounted females, of whom

probably not more than the half will ride to hounds. This being the

case, I always look most particularly at that which is the greater

novelty, nor am I by any means singular in doing so.

On the day of which I write, however, ladies on horseback were by no

means uncommon: I should say there were at least two hundred present

upon the lawn. Some rode so well, and were so beautifully turned

out, that the most hypercritical could find no fault; but of the

majority--what can I say? Alas! nothing that would sound at all

favourable. Such horses, such saddles, such rusty bridles, such

riding-habits, such hats, whips, and gloves; and, above all, such

_coiffures_! My very soul was sorry. I could not laugh, as some others

were doing. I felt too melancholy for mirth. It seemed to me most

grievous that my own sex (many of them so young and beautiful) should

be thus held up to ridicule. I asked myself was it thus in other

places; and I came to London in the spring, and walked in the Row, and

gazed, and took notes, and was not satisfied. Perhaps I was too

critical. There was very much to praise, certainly, but there was also

much wherewith to find fault. The style of riding was bad; the style of

dressing was incomparably worse. The well-got-up only threw into darker

shadow the notable defects visible in the forms and trappings of their

less fortunate sisterhood. I questioned myself as to how this could be

best remedied. Remonstrance was impossible--advice equally so. Why

could not somebody write a book for lady equestrians, or a series of

papers which might appear in the pages of some fashionable magazine or

journal, patronised and read by them? The idea seemed a good one, but I

lacked time to carry it out, and so it rested in embryo for many

months. Last June, whilst recovering from serious illness, my cherished

project returned to my mind. Forbidden to write, and too weak to hold a

pen, I strove feebly with a pencil to trace my thoughts upon odd scraps

of paper, which I thrust away in my desk without any definite idea as

to what should eventually become of them. In July, whilst staying at a

country house near Shrewsbury, I one day came upon these shorthand

jottings, and, having leisure-time upon my hands, set to work and put

them into form. A line to the Editor of _The Illustrated Sporting

and Dramatic News_, with whom, I may state, I had had no previous

acquaintance, brought an immediate reply, to send my work for

consideration. I did so; called upon him by appointment when I came a

few days later to London; made all arrangements in a three-minutes

interview; and the first of my series of papers appeared shortly after.

That they were successful, far beyond their deserts, is to me a proud

boast. On their conclusion numerous firms negotiated with me for the

copyright: with what result is known; and here to my publishers I

tender my best thanks.

In arranging now these writings--put together and brought before the

public at a time when I had apparently many years of active life before

me--it is to me a melancholy reflection that the things of which they

treat are gone from my eyes,--for alas! I can ride no more. Never again

may my heart be gladdened with the music of the hounds, or my frame

invigorated by the exercise which I so dearly loved. An accident,

sudden and unexpected, has deprived me of my strength, and left me to

speak in mournful whispers of what was for long my happiest theme. Yet

why repine where so much is left? It is but another chapter in our

life's history! We love and cling to one pursuit--and it passes from

us; then another absorbs our attention,--it, too, vanishes; and so

on--perhaps midway to the end--until the "looking back" becomes so

filled with saddened memories, that the "looking forward" is alone

left. And so we turn our wistful eyes where they might never have been

directed, had the prospect behind us been less dark.

A few more words, and I close my preliminary observations and commence

my subject. I cannot but be aware, from the nature of the correspondence

which has flowed in upon me, that although far the greater number of my

readers have agreed with me and entirely coincided in my views, not a

few have been found to cavil. Let not such think that I am oblivious of

their good intentions because I remain unconvinced by their arguments,

and still prefer to maintain my own opinions, which I have not ventured

to set forth without mature deliberation, and the most substantial

reasons for holding them in fixity of tenure. I have spent some

considerable time in turning over in my mind the advisability, or

otherwise, of publishing, as a sort of appendix to this volume, a

selection from the letters which were printed in _The Illustrated

Sporting and Dramatic News_ with reference to my writings in that

journal. After much deliberation I have decided upon suffering the

entire number, with a few trifling exceptions, to appear. They only

form a very small proportion of the voluminous correspondence with

which the Editor and myself were favoured; but, such as they are, I

give them--together with my replies,--not merely because they set forth

the views and impressions of various persons upon topics of universal

interest, but because I conceive that a large amount of useful

information may be gleaned from them, and they may also serve to amuse

my lady readers, who will doubtless be interested in the numerous

queries which I was called upon to answer. Whether or not I have been

able to fight my battles and maintain my cause, must be for others to

determine.

I likewise subjoin a little paper on "Hunting in Ireland"--also already

published--which brought me many letters: some of them from persons

whose word should carry undoubted weight, fully coinciding in and

substantiating my views with regard to the cutting up of grass-lands;

whilst further on will be found my article entitled "Hunting in

America," originally published in _Life_, and copied from that journal

into so many papers throughout the kingdom, and abroad, that it is

now universally known, and cannot be here presented in the form of

a novelty,--but is given for the benefit of those who may not have

chanced to meet with it, and for whom the subject of American sports

and pastimes may happen to possess interest.

N. P. O'D.

CONTENTS.

PART I.

LEARNING.

CHAPTER I.

A Popular Error.--Excellence in Riding attainable without any

Youthful Knowledge of the Art.--The Empress of Austria.--Her

Proficiency.--Her Palace.--Her Occupations.--Her Disposition.

--Her Thoughts and Opinions.--The Age at which to learn.--

Courage indispensable.--Taste a Necessity 1

CHAPTER II.

Learner's Costume.--The Best Teacher.--Your Bridle.--Your

Saddle.--Your Stirrup.--Danger from "Safety-stirrup."--A Terrible

Situation.--Learning to Ride without any support for the Foot 11

CHAPTER III.

Mounting.--Holding the Reins.--Position in the Saddle.--Use of

the Whip.--Trotting.--Cantering.--Riding from Balance.--Use of

the Stirrup. Leaping.--Whyte Melville's opinion 23

PART II.

PARK AND ROAD RIDING.

CHAPTER IV.

How to Dress.--A Country-girl's ideas upon the subject.--How

to put on your Riding-gear.--How to preserve it.--First

Road-ride.--Backing.--Rearing, and how to prevent it 44

CHAPTER V.

Running away.--Three Dangerous Adventures.--How to act when

placed in Circumstances of Peril.--How to Ride a Puller.--

Through the City.--To a Meet of Hounds.--Boastful Ladies.--A

Braggart's Resource 62

PART III.

HUNTING.

CHAPTER VI.

Hunting-Gear.--Necessary Regard for Safe Shoeing.--Drive to the

Meet.--Scene on arriving.--A Word with the Huntsman.--A Good

Pilot.--The Covert-side.--Disappointment.--A Long Trot 81

CHAPTER VII.

Hounds in Covert.--The First Fence.--Follow your Pilot.--A

River-bath.--A Wise Precaution.--A Label advisable.--Wall and

Water Jumping.--Advice to Fallen Riders.--Hogging.--More Tail 98

CHAPTER VIII.

Holding on to a Prostrate Horse.--Is it Wise or otherwise?--An

Indiscreet Jump.--A Difficult Finish.--The Dangers of Marshy

Grounds.--Encourage Humanity.--A Reclaimed Cabby! 111

CHAPTER IX.

Selfishness in the Field.--Fording a River.--Shirking a Fence.

--Over-riding the Hounds.--Treatment of Tired Hunters.--Bigwig

and the Major.--Naughty Bigwig.--Hapless Major 120

CHAPTER X.

Feeding Horses.--Forage-biscuits.--Irish Peasantry.--A Cunning

Idiot.--A Cabin Supper.--The Roguish Mule.--A Day at Courtown.

--Paddy's Opinion of the Empress 131

CHAPTER XI.

The Double-rise.--Pointing out the Right Foot.--The force of

Habit.--Various kinds of Fault-finding.--Mr. Sturgess'

Pictures.--An English Harvest-home.--A Jealous Shrew.--A Shy

Blacksmith.--How Irishmen get Partners at a Dance 144

CHAPTER XII.

Subject of Feeding resumed.--Cooked Food recommended.--Effects of

Raw Oats upon "Pleader."--Servants' Objections.--Snaffle-bridle,

and Bit-and-Bridoon.--Kindness to the Poor.--An Unsympathetic

Lady.--An Ungallant Captain.--What is a Gentleman?--_Au

Revoir!_ 159

PART IV.

HUNTING IN IRELAND 173

PART V.

HUNTING IN AMERICA 183

CORRESPONDENCE 192

LADIES ON HORSEBACK.

PART I.

LEARNING.

CHAPTER I.

A POPULAR ERROR.--EXCELLENCE IN RIDING ATTAINABLE WITHOUT ANY YOUTHFUL

KNOWLEDGE OF THE ART.--THE EMPRESS OF AUSTRIA.--HER PROFICIENCY.--HER

PALACE.--HER OCCUPATIONS.--HER DISPOSITION.--HER THOUGHTS AND OPINIONS.

--THE AGE AT WHICH TO LEARN.--COURAGE INDISPENSABLE.--TASTE A NECESSITY.

It is my belief that hints to ladies from a lady, upon a subject which

now so universally occupies the female mind--hints, not offered in any

cavilling nor carping spirit, but with an affectionate and sisterly

regard for the interests of those addressed--cannot fail to be

appreciated, and must become popular. Men write very well for men, but

in writing for us ladies they cannot, however willing, enter into all

the little delicacies and minutiae of our tastes and feelings, and so

half the effect is lost.

I do not purpose entering upon any discussion, nor, indeed, touching

more than very lightly upon the treatment and management of the horse.

A subject so exhaustive lies totally outside the limits of my pen,

and has, moreover, been so ably treated by men of knowledge and

experience, as to render one word further respecting the matter almost

superfluous. I shall therefore content myself with surmising that

the horses with which we may have to do throughout these remarks--be

they school-horses, roadsters, or hunters--are at least sound,

good-tempered, and properly trained. Their beauty and other attributes

we shall take for granted, and not trouble ourselves about.

And now, in addressing my readers, I shall endeavour to do so as

though I spoke to each separately, and so shall adopt the term "you,"

as being at once friendly and concise.

My subject shall be divided into three heads. First the acquirement of

the equestrian art; second, road and park riding; third, hunting; with

a few hints upon the costume, &c. required for each, and a slight

sprinkling of anecdote here and there to enliven the whole.

I shall commence by saying that it is a mistake to imagine that

riding, in order to be properly learnt, must be begun in youth: that

nobody can excel as a horsewoman who has not accustomed herself to

the saddle from a mere child. On the contrary some of the finest

_equestriennes_ the world has ever produced have known little or

nothing of the art until the spring-time of their life was past. Her

Imperial Majesty the Empress of Austria, and likewise her sister the

ex-Queen of Naples, cared nothing about riding until comparatively

late in life. I know little, except through hearsay, of the last-named

lady's proficiency in the saddle, but having frequently witnessed

that of the former, and having also been favoured with a personal

introduction at the gracious request of the Empress, I can unhesitatingly

say that anything more superb than her style of riding it would be

impossible to conceive. The manner in which she mounts her horse, sits

him, manages him, and bears him safely through a difficult run, is

something which must be seen to be understood. Her courage is amazing.

Indeed, I have been informed that she finds as little difficulty in

standing upon a bare-backed steed and driving four others in long

reins, as in sitting quietly in one of Kreutzman's saddles. In the

circus attached to her palace at Vienna she almost daily performs

these feats, and encourages by prizes and evidences of personal favour

many of the Viennese ladies who seek to emulate her example. There has

been considerable discussion respecting the question of the Empress's

womanliness, and the reverse. Ladies have averred--oh, jealous

ladies!--that she is _not_ womanly; that her style of dressing is

objectionable, and that she has "no business to ride without her

husband!" These sayings are all open to but one interpretation; ladies

are ever envious of each other, more especially of those who excel.

The Empress is not only a perfect woman, but an angel of light and

goodness. Nor do I say this from any toadyism, nor yet from the

gratitude which I must feel for her kindly favour toward myself. I

speak as I think and believe. Blessed with a beauty rarely given to

mortal, she combines with it a sweetness of character and disposition,

a womanly tenderness, and a thoughtful and untiring charity, which

deserve to gain for her--as they have gained--the hearts as well as

the loving respect and reverence of all with whom she has come in

contact.

I was pleased to find, whilst conversing with her, that many of my

views about riding were hers also, and that she considered it a

pity--as I likewise do--that so many lady riders are utterly spoilt by

pernicious and ignorant teaching. I myself am of opinion that childhood

is not the best time to acquire the art of riding. The muscles are too

young, and the back too weak. The spine is apt to grow crooked, unless

a second saddle be adopted, which enables the learner to sit on

alternate days upon the off-side of the horse; and to this there are

many objections. The best time to learn to ride is about the age of

sixteen. All the delicacy to which the female frame is subject during

the period from the thirteenth to the fifteenth year has then passed

away, and the form is vigorous and strong, and capable of enduring

fatigue.

I know it to be a generally accepted idea that riding is like music and

literature--the earlier it is learnt the better for the learner, and

the more certain the proficiency desired to be attained. This is an

entirely erroneous opinion, and one which should be at once discarded.

I object, as a rule, to children riding. They cannot do so with any

safety, unless put upon horses and ponies which are sheep-like in their

demeanour; and from being accustomed to such, and to none other, they

are nervous and frightened when mounted upon spirited animals which

they feel they have not the strength nor the art to manage, and, being

unused to the science of controlling, they suffer themselves to be

controlled, and thus extinguish their chance of becoming accomplished

horsewomen. I know ladies, certainly, who ride with a great show of

boldness, and tear wildly across country after hounds, averring that

they never knew what fear meant: why should they--having ridden from

the time they were five years old? Very probably, but the bravery of

the few is nothing by which to judge of a system which is, on the

whole, pernicious. It is less objectionable for boys, because their

shoulders are not apt to grow awry by sitting sideways, as little

girls' do; nor are they liable to hang over upon one side; nor have

they such delicate frames and weakly fingers to bring to the front.

Moreover, if they tumble off, what matter? It does them all the good in

the world. A little sticking-plaister and shaking together, and they

are all right again. But I confess I _don't like_ to see a girl come

off. Less than a year ago a sweet little blue-eyed damsel who was

prattling by my side as she rode her grey pony along with me, was

thrown suddenly and without warning upon the road. The animal

stumbled--her tiny hands lacked the strength to pull him together--she

was too childish and inexperienced to know the art of retaining her

seat. She fell! and the remembrance of uplifting her, and carrying her

little hurt form before me upon my saddle to her parents' house, is not

amongst the brightest of my memories.

We will assume, then, that you are a young lady in your sixteenth

year, possessed of the desire to acquire the art of riding, and the

necessary amount of courage to enable you to do so. This latter

attribute is an absolute and positive necessity, for a coward will

_never_ make a horsewoman. If you are a coward, your horse will soon

find it out, and will laugh at you; for horses can and do laugh when

they what is usually termed "gammon" their riders. Nobody who does not

possess unlimited confidence and a determination to know no fear, has

any business aspiring to the art. Courage is indispensable, and must

be there from the outset. All other difficulties may be got over, but

a natural timidity is an insurmountable obstacle.

A cowardly rider labours under a two-fold disadvantage, for she not

only suffers from her own cowardice, but actually imparts it to her

horse. An animal's keen instinct tells him at once whether his master

or his servant is upon his back. The moment your hands touch the reins

the horse knows what your courage is, and usually acts accordingly.

No girl should be taught to ride who has not a taste, and a most

decided one, for the art. Yet I preach this doctrine in vain; for, all

over the world, young persons are forced by injudicious guardians to

acquire various accomplishments for which they have no calling, and at

which they can never excel. It is just as unwise to compel a girl to

mount and manage a horse against her inclination, as it is to force

young persons who have no taste for music to sit for hours daily at a

piano, or thrust pencils and brushes into hands unwilling to use them.

A love for horses, and an earnest desire to acquire the art of riding,

are alike necessary to success. An unwilling learner will have a bad

seat, a bad method, and clumsy hands upon the reins; whereas an

enthusiast will seem to have an innate facility and power to conquer

difficulties, and will possess that magic sense of _touch_, and facile

delicacy of manipulation, which go so far toward making what are

termed "good hands,"--a necessity without which nobody can claim to be

a rider.

CHAPTER II.

LEARNER'S COSTUME.--THE BEST TEACHER.--YOUR BRIDLE.--YOUR SADDLE.--

YOUR STIRRUP.--DANGER FROM "SAFETY-STIRRUP."--A TERRIBLE SITUATION.

--LEARNING TO RIDE WITHOUT ANY SUPPORT FOR THE FOOT.

Having now discussed your age, your nerve, and your taste, we shall say

a few words about your costume as a learner. Put on a pair of strong

well-made boots; heels are not objectionable, but buttons are decidedly

so, as they are apt to catch in the stirrup and cause trouble. Strong

chamois riding-trousers, cloth from the hip down, with straps to fasten

under the boots, and soft padding under the right knee and over the

left, to prevent the friction of the pommels, which, to a beginner,

generally causes much pain and uneasiness. A plain skirt of brown

holland, and any sort of dark jacket, will suit your purpose quite

well, for you are only going to learn; not to show off--yet. Your

hat--any kind will do--must be securely fastened on, and your hair left

flowing, for no matter how well you may fancy you have it fastened, the

motion of the horse will shake it and make it feel unsteady, and the

very first hairpin that drops out, up will go your hand to replace it,

and your reins will be forgotten. As soon as you have put on a pair of

strong loose gloves, and taken a little switch in your hand, you are

ready to mount.

The nicest place in which you can learn is a well-tanned riding-school

or large green paddock, and the nicest person to teach you is a lady or

gentleman friend, who will have the knowledge and the patience to

instruct you. Heaven help the learner who is handed over to the tender

mercies of John, the coachman, or Jem, the groom! Servants are rarely

able to ride a yard themselves, and their attempt at teaching is

proportionately lame. Your horse having been led out, your attendant

looks to his girthing, &c., as stable servants are not always too

particular respecting these necessary matters.

The pleasantest bridle in which to ride is a plain ring-snaffle. Few

horses will go in it; but, remember, I am surmising that yours has been

properly trained. By riding in this bridle you have complete control

over the movements of your horse--can, in fact, manage him with one

hand, and you have the additional advantage of having fewer leathers to

encumber and embarrass your fingers. A beginner is frequently puzzled

to distinguish between the curb and the snaffle when riding with a

double rein, and mistaking one for the other, or pulling equally at

both, is apt to cause the horse much unnecessary irritation. It is

lamentable to see the manner in which grown men and women, who ought to

know so much better, tug and strain at their horses' mouths with an

equal pull upon both reins, when riding, as is the custom, in a bit and

bridoon. Perhaps of the two they draw the curb the tighter. It is not

meant for cruelty--they do not appear to be aware that it _is_ cruel:

but there is no greater sign of utter ignorance. Horses are not

naturally vicious, and very few of them who have had any sort of

fair-play in training, really require a curb, or will go as well or

pleasantly upon it as if ridden in a snaffle-bridle.

Your saddle is another most important point. Never commence, be your

age ever so tender, by riding upon a pad. Accustom yourself from the

beginning to the use of a properly constructed saddle, made as straight

as a board, seat perfectly level, and scarcely any appearance of a

pommel upon the off-side. A leaping-head, or what is commonly termed a

third crutch, is, in my opinion, indispensable. To procure a saddle

such as I describe you must have it made to order, for those of the

present day are all made with something of a dip, which is most

objectionable. I do not like the appearance of much stitching about a

saddle. It has always appeared to me absurd to see the amount of

elaborate embroidery which every old-fashioned saddle carries upon the

near flap. Nothing could be more unnecessary than an outlay of labour

upon a portion of the article which is always concealed beneath the

rider's right leg. There might be some sense, although very little, in

decorating the off-side and imparting to it something of an ornamental

appearance; but in my opinion there cannot be too much simplicity about

everything connected with riding appointments. A plainness, amounting

even to severity, is to be preferred before any outward show. Ribbons,

and coloured veils, and yellow gloves, and showy flowers are alike

objectionable. A gaudy "get up" (to make use of an expressive

common-place) is highly to be condemned, and at once stamps the wearer

as a person of inferior taste. Therefore avoid it. Let your saddle be,

like your personal attire, remarkable only for its perfect freedom from

ornament or display. Have it made to suit yourself--neither too

weighty, nor yet too small--and if you want to ride with grace and

comfort, desire that it be constructed without one particle of the

objectionable dip. There is a very old-established and world-noted firm

in Piccadilly--Peat & Co.--where you can obtain an article such as I

describe, properly made, and of durable materials, at quite a moderate

cost. I can say, speaking from experience, that no trouble will be

spared to afford you satisfaction, and that the workmanship will be not

only lasting, but characterised by that neatness for which I am so

strong an advocate. You should ride _on_ your saddle, not _in_ it, and

you must learn to ride from balance or you will never excel, and this

you can only do by the use of the level seat. A small pocket on the

off-side, and a neat cross strap to support a waterproof, are of course

necessary items.

Your stirrup is the next important matter. I strongly disapprove of the

old-fashioned slipper, as also of the so-called "safety" stirrup, which

is, in my opinion, the fruitful source of many accidents. Half the

lamentable mischances with which our ears are from time to time

shocked, are due to the pertinacity with which ladies will cling to

this murderous safety stirrup. So long as they will persist in doing

so, casualties must be looked for and must occur. The padding over the

instep causes the foot to become firmly imbedded, and in the event of

an accident the consequences are dire, for the mechanism of the stirrup

is almost invariably stiff or out of order, or otherwise refuses to

act. Mr. Oldacre was, I believe, the inventor of the padded stirrup,

and for this we owe him or his memory little thanks, although the

gratitude of all lady riders is undoubtedly due to him for his

admirable invention and patenting of the third crutch, without which

our seat in the saddle would be far less comfortable and less secure.

I dare say that I shall have a large section of aggrieved stirrup-makers

coming down upon me with the phials of their wrath for giving publicity

to this opinion, but in writing as I have done I merely state my own

views, which I deem we are all at liberty to do; and looking upon my

readers as friends, I warn them against an article of which I myself

have had woful experience. I once purchased a safety stirrup at one of

the best houses, and made by one of the best makers. The shopman showed

it off to me in gallant style, expatiating upon its many excellencies,

and adroitly managing the stiff machinery with his deft fingers, until

I was fairly deceived, and gave him a handful of money for what

subsequently proved a cause of trouble. I lost more than one good run

with hounds through the breaking of this dearly-bought stirrup, having

upon one occasion to ride quite a long distance away from the hunt to

seek out a forge at which I might undergo repairs. Nor was this the

worst, for one day, having incautiously plunged into a bog in my

anxiety to be in at the death, my horse got stuck and began to sink,

and of course I sought to release myself from him at once; but no, my

foot was locked fast in that terrible stirrup, and I could not stir. My

position was dreadful, for I had outridden my pilot, my struggling

steed was momentarily sinking lower, and the shades of evening were

fast closing in. I shudder to think what might have been my fate and

that of my gallant horse had not the fox happily turned and led the

hunt back along the skirts of the bog, thus enabling my cries for help

to be heard by one or two brave spirits who came gallantly to my

rescue. I have more than once since then been caught in a treacherous

bog when following the chase, but never have I found any difficulty in

jumping from my horse's back and helping him to struggle gamely on to

the dry land, for I have never since ridden in a safety-stirrup, nor

shall I ever be likely to do so again. It may be said, and probably

with truth, that my servant had neglected to clean it properly from day

to day, and that consequently the spring had got rusted and refused to

act. Such may possibly have been the case, but might not the same thing

occur to anyone, or at any time? Servants are the same all over the

world, and yet you must either trust to them or spend half your time

overlooking them in the stable and harness-room, which for a lady is

neither agreeable nor correct.

There is nothing so pleasant to ride in as a plain little racing-stirrup,

from which the foot is in an instant freed. I have not for a long while

back used anything else myself, nor has my foot ever remained caught,

even in the most dangerous falls.

I conceive it to be an admirable plan to learn to ride without a

stirrup at all. Of course I do not mean by this that a lady should

_ever_ go out park-riding or hunting _sans_ the aid of such

an appendage, but she should be taught the necessity of dispensing with

it in case of emergency. The benefits arising from such training are

manifold. First, it imparts a freedom and independence which cannot

otherwise be acquired; secondly, it gives an admirable and sure seat

over fences; thirdly, it is an excellent means of learning how to ride

from balance; and fourthly, in spite of its apparent difficulties, it

is in the end a mighty simplifier, inasmuch as, when the use of the

stirrup is again permitted, all seems such marvellously plain sailing,

that every obstacle appears to vanish from the learner's path. In

short, a lady who can ride fairly well without a support for her foot,

must, when such is added, be indeed an accomplished horsewoman. I knew

a lady who never made use of a stirrup throughout the whole course of

an unusually long life, and who rode most brilliantly to hounds. Few,

however, could do this, nor is it by any means advisable, but to be

able occasionally to dispense with the support is doubtless of decided

benefit.

I have often found my training in this respect stand me in good stead,

for it has more than once happened that in jumping a stiff fence, or

struggling in a heavy fall, my stirrup-leather has given way, and I

have had not alone to finish the run without it, but to ride many miles

of a journey homeward.

Nothing could be more wearisome to an untutored horsewoman than a long

ride without a stirrup. The weight of her suspended limb becomes after

a moment or two most inconvenient and even painful, whilst the trot of

the horse occasions her to bump continuously in the saddle,--for the

power of rising without artificial aid would appear a sheer impossibility

to an ordinary rider whose teaching had been entrusted to an ordinary

teacher. I would have you then bear in mind that although I advocate

_practising_ without the assistance of a stirrup, I am totally

against your setting out beyond the limits of your own lawn or paddock

without this necessary support.

CHAPTER III.

MOUNTING.--HOLDING THE REINS.--POSITION IN THE SADDLE.--USE OF THE

WHIP.--TROTTING.--CANTERING.--RIDING FROM BALANCE.--USE OF THE STIRRUP.

--LEAPING.--WHYTE MELVILLE'S OPINION.

Having now seen that your bridle, saddle, and stirrup are in proper

order, you prepare to mount, and this will probably take you some time

and practice to accomplish gracefully, being quite an art in itself.

Nothing is more atrocious than to see a lady require a chair to mount

her animal, or hang midway against the side of the saddle when her

cavalier gives her the helping hand. Lay your right hand firmly upon

the pommel of your saddle, and the left upon the shoulder of your

attendant, in whose hand you place your left foot. Have ready some

signal sentence, as "Make ready, go!" or "one, two, three!" Immediately

upon pronouncing the last syllable make your spring, and if your

attendant does his duty properly you will find yourself seated deftly

upon your saddle.

As I have already stated, this requires practice, and you must not be

disappointed if a week or so of failure ensues between trial and

success.

As soon as you are firmly seated, take your rein (which, as I have

said, should be a single one) and adjust it thus. Place the near side

under the little finger of your left hand, and the off one between your

first and second fingers, bringing both in front toward the right hand,

and holding them securely in their place with the pressure of your

thumb. This is merely a hint as to the simplest method for a beginner

to adopt, for there is really no fixed rule for holding reins, nor must

you at all times hold them in one hand only, but frequently--and always

when hunting--put both hands firmly to your bridle. Anything stiff or

stereotyped is to be avoided. A good rider, such as we hope you will

soon become, will change her reins about, and move her position upon

the saddle, so as to be able to watch the surrounding scenery--always

moving gracefully, and without any abrupt or spasmodic jerkings, which

are just as objectionable as the poker-like rigidity which I wish you

to avoid. How common it is to see ladies on horseback sitting as though

they were afraid to budge a hair, with pinioned elbows and

straightly-staring eyes. This is most objectionable; in fact, nothing

can be more unsightly. A graceful, easy seat, is a good horsewoman's

chief characteristic. She is not afraid of tumbling off, and so she

does not look as though she were so; moreover, she has been properly

taught in the commencement, and all such defects have been rectified by

a careful supervision.

With regard to your whip, it must be held point downwards, and if you

have occasion to touch your horse, give it to him down the shoulder,

but always with temperance and kindly judgment. I once had a

riding-master who desired me to hold my whip balanced in three fingers

of my right hand, point upwards, the hand itself being absurdly bowed

and the little finger stuck straight out like a wooden projection. My

natural good sense induced me to rebel against anything so completely

ridiculous, and I quietly asked my teacher why I was to carry my whip

in that particular position. His answer was--"Oh, that you may have it

ready _to strike your horse on the neck_." Shades of Diana! this

is the way our daughters are taught in schools, and we marvel that they

show so little for the heaps of money which we hopefully expend upon

them.

Being then fairly seated upon your saddle, your skirt drawn down and

arranged by your attendant, your reins in your hand and your whip

arranged, you must proceed to walk your horse quietly around the

enclosure, having first gently drawn your bridle through his mouth. You

will feel very strange at first: much as though you were on the back of

a dromedary and were completely at his mercy. Sit perfectly straight

and erect, but without stiffness. Be careful not to hang over upon

either side, and, above all things, avoid the pernicious habit of

clutching nervously with the right hand at the off pommel to save

yourself from some imaginary danger. So much does this unsightly habit

grow upon beginners, that, unless checked, it will follow them through

life. I know grown women who ride every day, and the very moment their

horse breaks into a canter or a trot they lay a grim grip upon the

pommel, and hold firmly on to it until the animal again lapses into a

walk. And this they do unconsciously. The habit, given way to in

childhood, has grown so much into second nature that to tell them of it

would amaze them. I once ventured to offer a gentle remonstrance upon

the subject to a lady with whom I was extremely intimate, and she was

not only astonished, but so displeased with me for noticing it, that

she was never quite the same to me afterwards; and so salutary was the

lesson which I then received that I have since gone upon the principle

of complete non-interference, and if I saw my fellow _equestriennes_

riding gravely upon their horses' heads I would not suggest the

rationality of transferring their weight to the saddle. And this

theory is a good one, or at least a wise one; for humanity is so

inordinately conceited that it will never take a hint kindly, unless

asked for; and not always even then.

To sit erect upon your saddle is a point of great importance; if you

acquire a habit of stooping it will grow upon you, and it is not only a

great disfigurement, but not unfrequently a cause of serious accident,

for if your horse suddenly throws up his head, he hits you upon the

nose, and deprives you of more blood than you may be able to replace in

a good while.

As soon as you can feel yourself quite at home upon your mount, and

have become accustomed to its walking motion, your attendant will urge

him into a gentle trot. And now prepare yourself for the beginning of

sorrows. Your first sensation will be that of being shaken to pieces.

You are, of course, yet quite ignorant of the art of rising in your

saddle, and the trot of the horse fairly churns you. Your hat shakes,

your hair flaps, your elbows bang to your sides, you are altogether

miserable. Still, you hold on bravely, though you are ready to cry from

the horrors of the situation.

Your attendant, by way of relieving you, changes the trot to a canter,

and then you are suddenly transported to Elysium. The motion is

heavenly. You have nothing to do but sit close to your saddle, and you

are borne delightfully along. It is too ecstatic to last. Alas! it will

never teach you to ride, and so you return to the trot and the shaking

and the jogging, the horrors of which are worse than anything you have

ever previously experienced. You try vainly to give yourself some ease,

but fail utterly, and at length dismount--hot, tired, and disheartened.

But against this latter you must resolutely fight. Remember that

nothing can be learned without trouble, and by-and-by you will be

repaid. It is not everybody who has the gift of perseverance, and it is

an invaluable attribute. It is a fact frequently commented upon, not

alone by me but by many others also, that if you go for the hiring of a

horse to any London livery-stable you will be sent a good-looking beast

enough, but he will not be able to trot a yard. Canter, canter, is all

that he can do. And why? He is kept for the express purpose of carrying

young ladies in the Row, and these young ladies have never learnt to

trot. They can dress themselves as vanity suggests in fashionably-cut

habits, suffer themselves to be lifted to the saddle, and sit there,

looking elegant and pretty, whilst their horse canters gaily down the

long ride; but were the animal to break into a trot (which he is far

too well tutored to attempt to do), they would soon present the same

shaken, dilapidated, dishevelled, and utterly miserable appearance

which you yourself do after your first experience of the difficulties

which a learner has to encounter.

The art of rising in the saddle is said to have been invented by one

Dan Seffert, a very famous steeplechase jockey, who had, I believe,

been a riding-master in the days of his youth. If this be true--which

there is no reason to doubt--we have certainly to thank him, for it is

a vast improvement upon the jog-trot adopted by the cavalry, which,

however well it may suit them and impart uniformity of motion to their

"line-riding," is not by any means suited to a lady, either for

appearances or for purposes of health.

You come up for your next day's lesson in a very solemn mood. You are,

in fact, considerably sobered. You had thought it was all plain

sailing: it _looked_ so easy. You had seen hundreds of persons

riding, trotting, and even setting off to hunt, and had never dreamed

that there had been any trouble in learning. Now you know the

difficulties and what is before you.

You recall your sufferings during your first days upon the ice, or on

the rink. How utterly impossible it seemed that you could ever excel;

how you tumbled about; how miserably helpless you felt, and how many

heavy falls you got! Yet you conquered in the end, and so you will

again.

You take courage and mount your steed. First you walk him a little, as

yesterday; and then the jolting begins again. How are you ever to get

into that rise and fall which you have seen with others, and so much

covet? How are you to accomplish it? Only by doing as I tell you, and

persevering in it. As your horse throws out his near foreleg press your

foot upon your stirrup, in time to lift yourself slightly as his off

foreleg is next thrown out. Watch the motion of his legs, press your

foot, and at the same time slightly lift yourself from your saddle. For

a long while, many days perhaps, it will seem to be all wrong; you have

not got into it one bit; you are just as far from it apparently as when

you commenced. You are hot and vexed, and you, perhaps, cry with

mortification and disappointment, as I have seen many a young beginner

do; bitterly worried and disheartened you are, and ready to give up,

when, lo! quite suddenly, as though it had come to you by magic and not

through your own steady perseverance, you find yourself rising and

falling _with_ the trot of the horse, and your labours are

rewarded.

After this your lessons are a source of delight. You no longer come

from them flushed and worried, but joyous and exultant and impatient

for the next. You have begun to feel quite brave, and to throw out

hints that you are longing for a good ride on the road. You now know

how to make your horse trot and canter; the first by a light touch of

your whip and a gentle movement of your bridle through his mouth; the

second by a slight bearing of the rein upon the near side of his mouth,

so as to make him go off upon the right leg, and a little warning touch

of your heel. You fancy, in fact, that you are quite a horsewoman, and

have already rolled up your hair into a neat knot, and hinted to papa

that you should greatly like a habit. But, alas! you have plenty of

trouble yet before you, plenty to learn, plenty of falls to get and to

bear. At present you can ride fairly well on the straight; but you know

nothing of keeping your balance in time of danger. Your horse is very

quiet, but if he chanced to put back his ears you would be off.

You are taught to maintain your balance in the following way:--

Your attendant waits until your horse is cantering pretty briskly in a

circle from left to right, when he suddenly cracks his whip close to

the animal's heels, who immediately swerves and turns the other way.

You have had no warning of the movement, and consequently you tumble

off, and are put up again, feeling a little shaken and a good deal

crestfallen. Most likely you will fall again and again, until you have

thoroughly mastered the art of riding from balance.

This is a method I have seen adopted, especially in schools, with

considerable success, but it is certainly attended with inconvenience

to the learner, and with a goodly portion of the risk from falls which

all who ride _must_ of necessity run. To ride well from balance is

not a thing which can be accomplished in a day, nor a month, nor

perhaps a year. Many pass a life-time without practically comprehending

the meaning of the term. They ride every day, hold on to the bridle,

guide their horses, and trust to chance for the rest; but this is not

true horsemanship. It could no more be called _riding_ than could

a piece of mechanical pianoforte-playing be termed music. When you

have, after much difficulty and delay, mastered the obstacles which

marred your progress, you will then have the happy consciousness of

feeling that however your horse may shy or swerve, or otherwise depart

from his good manners, you can sit him with the ease and closeness of a

young centaur.

This art of riding from balance is not half sufficiently known. It is

one most difficult to acquire, but the study is worth the labour.

Nine-tenths of the lady equestrians, and perhaps even a greater number

of gentlemen, ride from the horse's head; a detestable practice which

cannot be too highly condemned. I must also warn you against placing

too much stress upon the stirrup when your horse is trotting. You must

bear in mind that the stirrup is intended for a support for the

foot--not to be ridden from. By placing your right leg firmly around

the up-pommel, and pressing the left knee against the leaping-head, you

can accomplish the rise in your saddle with slight assistance from the

stirrup; and this is the proper way to ride. The lazy, careless habit

into which many women fall, of resting the entire weight of the body

upon the stirrup, not only frequently causes the leathers to snap at

most inconvenient times, but is the lamentable cause of half the sore

backs and ugly galls from which poor horses suffer so severely.

Having at length perfected yourself in walking, trotting, cantering,

and riding from balance, you have only to acquire the art of

leaping--and then you will be finished, so far as teaching can make you

so. Experience must do the rest.

It is a good thing, when learning, to mount as many different horses as

you possibly can; always, of course, taking care that they are

sufficiently trained not to endeavour to master you. Horses vary

immensely in their action and gait of going: so much so, that if you do

not accustom yourself to a variety you will take your ideas from one

alone, and will, when put upon a strange animal, find yourself

completely at sea.

Do not suffer anything to induce you to take your first leap over a bar

or pole similar to those used in schools. The horse sees the daylight

under it, knows well that it is a sham, goes at it unwillingly, does

not half rise to it, drops his heels when in the air, and knocks it

down with a crash,--only to do the same thing a second time, and a

third, and a fourth also, if urged to do that which he despises.

Choose a nice little hurdle about two feet high, well interwoven with

gorse; trot your horse gently up to it, and let him see what it is;

then, turn him back and send him at it, sitting close glued to your

saddle, with a firm but gentle grip of your reins, and your hands held

low. To throw up the hands is a habit with all beginners, and should at

once be checked. Fifty to one you will stick on all right, and, if you

come off, why it's many a good man's case, and you must regard it as

one of the chances of war.

The next day you may have the gorse raised another half-foot above the

hurdle, and so on by degrees, until you can sit with ease over a jump

of five feet. Always bear in mind to keep your hands quite down upon

your horse's withers, and never interfere with his mouth. Sit well

back, leave him his head, and he will not make a mistake. Of course, I

am again surmising that he has been properly trained, and that you

alone are the novice. To put a learner upon an untrained animal would

be a piece of folly, not to say of wickedness, of which we hope nobody

in this age of enlightenment would dream of being guilty. In jumping a

fence or hurdle do not leave your reins quite slack; hold them lightly

but firmly, as your horse should jump against his bridle, but do not

pull him. A gentle support is alone necessary.

That absurd and vulgar theory about "lifting a horse at his fences," so

freely affected by the ignorant youth of the present day, cannot be too

strongly deprecated. That same "lifting" has broken more horses'

shoulders and more _asses'_ necks than anything else on record. A

good hunter with a bad rider upon his back will actually shake his head

free on coming up to a fence. He knows that he cannot do what is

expected of him if his mouth is to be chucked and worried, any more

than you or I could under similar circumstances, and so he asserts his

liberty. How often, in a steeplechase, one horse early deprived of his

rider will voluntarily go the whole course and jump every obstacle in

perfect safety, even with the reins dangling about his legs, yet never

make a mistake; whilst a score or so of compeers will be tumbling at

every fence. And why? The answer is plain and simple. The free horse

has his head, and his instinct tells him where to put his feet; whereas

the animals with riders upon their backs are dragged and pulled and

sawn at, until irritation deprives them of sense and sight, and,

rushing wildly at their fences (probably getting another tug at the

moment of rising), they fall, and so extinguish their chance of a win.

I do not, of course, in saying this, mean for a moment to question the

judgment and horsemanship of very many excellent jockeys, whose ability

is beyond comment and their riding without reproach. I speak of the

rule, not of the few exceptions.

Half the horses who fall in the hunting-field are thrown down by their

riders; this is a fact too obvious to be contradicted. Men over-riding

their horses, treating them with needless cruelty, riding them when

already beaten: these are the fruitful causes of falls in the field,

together with that most objectionable practice of striving to "lift"

an animal who knows his duties far better than the man upon his back.

It is a pity, and my heart has often bled to see how the noblest of

God's created things is ill-treated and abused by the human brute who

styles himself the master. It is, indeed, a disgrace to our humanity

that this priceless creature, given to a man with a mind highly

wrought, sensitive, yearning for kindness, and capable of appreciating

each word and look of the being whose willing slave it is, should be

treated with cruelty, and in too many cases regarded but as a sort of

machine to do the master's bidding. Who has not seen, and mourned to

see, the tired, patient horse, spurred and dragged at by a remorseless

rider, struggling gamely forward in the hunting-field, with bleeding

mouth and heaving, bloody flanks, to enable a cruel task-master to see

the end of a second run, and even of a third, after having carried him

gallantly through a long and intricate first? It is a piece of

inhumanity which all humane riders see and deplore every day

throughout the hunting season. We cannot stop it, but we can speak

against it and write it down, and discountenance it in every possible

way, as we are all bound to do. Why will not men be brought to see

that in abusing their horses they are compassing their own loss? that

in taxing the powers of a beaten animal they are riding for a fall,

and are consequently endangering the life which God has given them?

There is much to be learnt in the art of fencing besides hurdle-leaping.

A good timber-jumper will often take a ditch or drain in a very

indifferent manner. I have seen a horse jump a five-barred gate in

magnificent style, yet fall short into a comparatively narrow ditch;

and _vice versa_; therefore, various kinds of jumps must be kept

up, persevered in, and kept constantly in practice. Two things must

always be preserved in view; never sit loosely in your saddle, and

always ride well from balance, never from your horse's head. In taking

an up jump leave him abundance of head-room, and sit _well_ back,

lest in his effort he knock you in the face. If the jump is a down

one--what is known as an "ugly drop"--follow the same rules; but, when

your horse is landing, give him good support from the bridle, as,

should the ground be at all soft or marshy, he might be apt to peck,

and so give you an ugly fall.

It is a disputed point whether or not horses like jumping. I am

inclined to coincide in poor Whyte-Melville's opinion that they do not.

He was a good authority upon most subjects connected with equine

matters, and so he ought to know; but of one thing I am positively

certain: they abhor schooling. However a horse may tolerate or even

enjoy a good fast scurry with hounds, there can be no doubt that he

greatly dislikes being brought to his fences in cold blood. He has not,

when schooling, the impetus which sends him along, nor the example or

excitement to be met with in the hunting-field. The horse is naturally

a timid animal, and this is why he so frequently stops short at his

fences when schooling. He mistrusts his own powers. When running with

hounds he is borne along by speed and by excitement, and so goes skying

over obstacles which appal him when trotted quietly to them on a

schooling day. It is just the difference which an actor feels between a

chilling rehearsal and the night performance, when the theatre is

crowded and the clapping of hands and the shouting of approving voices

lend life and spirit to the part he plays.

You will probably get more falls whilst schooling than ever you will

get in the hunting-field, but a few weeks' steady practice over good

artificial fences or a nice natural country, will give you a firm seat

and an amount of confidence which will stand to you as friends.

PART II.

PARK AND ROAD RIDING.

CHAPTER IV.

HOW TO DRESS.--A COUNTRY-GIRL'S IDEAS UPON THE SUBJECT.--HOW TO PUT

ON YOUR RIDING-GEAR.--HOW TO PRESERVE IT.--FIRST ROAD-RIDE.--BACKING.

--REARING, AND HOW TO PREVENT IT.

Having now mastered the art of riding, you will of course be desirous

of appearing in the parks and on the public roadways, and exhibiting

the prowess which it has cost you so much to gain.

For your outfit you will require, in addition to the articles already

in your possession, a nice well-made habit of dark cloth. If you are a

very young girl, grey will be the most suitable; if not, dark blue. If

you live in London, pay a visit to Mayfair, and get Mr. Wolmershausen

to make it for you; if in Dublin, Mr. Scott, of Sackville Street, will

do equally well; indeed, for any sort of riding-gear, ladies' or

gentlemen's, he is not to be excelled. If you are not within easy

distance of a city, go to the best tailor you can, and give him

directions, which he must not be above taking. Skirt to reach six

inches below the foot, well shaped for the knee, and neatly shotted at

end of hem just below the right foot; elastic band upon inner side, to

catch the left toe, and to retain the skirt in its place. It should be

made tight and spare, without _one inch_ of superfluous cloth;

jacket close-fitting, but sufficiently easy to avoid even the suspicion

of being squeezed; sleeves perfectly tight, except at the setting on,

where a slight puffiness over the shoulder should give the appearance

of increased width of chest. No braiding nor ornamentation of any sort

to appear. A small neat linen collar, upright shape, with cuffs to

correspond, should be worn with the habit, no frilling nor fancy work

being admissible--the collar to be fastened with a plain gold or silver

stud.

The nicest hat to ride in is an ordinary silk one, much lower than they

are usually made, and generally requiring to be manufactured purposely

to fit and suit the head. Of course, if you are a young girl, the melon

shape will not be unsuitable, but the other is more in keeping, more

becoming, and vastly more economical in the end, although few can be

induced to believe this. It is the custom in many households to

purchase articles for their cheapness, without any regard to quality or

durability, and this you should endeavour to avoid. Speaking from

experience, the best things are always the cheapest. I pay from a

guinea to a guinea and a half for a good silk hat, and find that it

wears out four felt ones of the quality usually sold at ten and

sixpence. There is no London house at which you can procure better

articles or better value than at Lincoln, Bennett, & Co., Sackville

Street, Piccadilly. For nearly half a century they have been the

possessors of an admirable contrivance, which should be seen to be

appreciated, by which not alone is the size of the head ascertained,

but its precise shape is definitely marked and suited, thus avoiding

all possibility of that distressing pressure upon the temples, which is

a fruitful source of headache and discomfort to so many riders. Hats

made at this firm require no elastics--if it be considered desirable to

dispense with such--as the fit is guaranteed. Never wear a veil on

horseback, except it be a black one, and nothing with a border looks

well. A plain band of spotted net, just reaching below the nostrils,

and gathered away into a neat knot behind, is the most _distingue_. Do

not wear anything sufficiently long to cover the mouth, or it will

cause you inconvenience on wet and frosty days. For dusty roads a

black gauze veil will be found useful, but avoid, as you would poison,

every temptation to wear even the faintest scrap of colour on

horseback. All such atrocities as blue and green veils have happily

long since vanished, but, even still, a red bow, a gaudy flower stuck

in the button-hole, and, oh, horror of horrors! a pocket handkerchief

appearing at an opening in the bosom, looking like a miniature

fomentation--these still occasionally shock the eyes of sensitive

persons, and cause us to marvel at the wearer's bad taste.

I was once asked to take a young lady with me for a ride in the park,

to witness a field-day, or polo match, or something or another of

especial interest which happened to be going forward. I would generally

prefer being asked to face a battery of Zulus rather than act as

_chaperone_ to young lady _equestriennes_, who are usually

ignorant of riding, and insufferably badly turned out. However, upon

this occasion I could not refuse. The lady's parents were kind, amiable

country folks, who had invested a portion of their wealth in sending

their daughter up to town to get lessons from a fashionable

riding-master, and to ride out with whomsoever might be induced to take

her.

Well, the young lady's horse was the first arrival: a hired hack--usual

style; bones protruding--knees well over--rusty bridle--greasy

reins--dirty girths--and dilapidated saddle, indifferently polished up

for the occasion.

The young lady herself came next, stepping daintily out of a cab, as

though she were quite mistress of the situation. Ye gods! What a get

up! I was positively electrified. Her habit--certainly well made--was

of bright blue cloth, with worked frills at the throat and wrists. She

wore a brilliant knot of scarlet ribbon at her neck, and a huge bouquet

in her button-hole. Her hat was a silk one, set right on the back of

her head, with a velvet rosettte and steel buckle in front, and a long

veil of grey gauze streaming out behind. When we add orange gloves, and

a riding-whip with a gaudy tassel appended to it, you have the details

of a costume at once singular and unique.

I did not at first know whether to get a sudden attack of the measles

or the toothache, and send her out with my groom to escort her, but

discarding the thought as ill-natured, I compromised matters by

bringing her to my own room, and effecting alterations in her toilet

which soon gave her a more civilised appearance. I set the hat straight

upon her head, and bound it securely in its place, removed from it the

gauze and buckle, and tied on one of my own plain black veils of simple

spotted net. I could not do away with the frillings, for they were

stitched on as though they were never meant to come off; but the red

bow I replaced with a silver arrow, threw away the flowers, removed the

whip-tassel, and substituted a pair of my own gloves for the cherished

orange kid. Then we set out.

I wanted to go a quiet way to the park, so as to avoid the streets of

the town, but she would not have it. Nothing would do that girl but to

go bang through the most crowded parts of the city, the hired hack

sliding over the asphalte, and the rider (all unconscious of her

danger) bowing delightedly to her acquaintances as she passed along.

Poor girl! that first day out of the riding-school was a gala day for

her.

The nicest gloves for riding are pale cream leather, worked thickly on

the backs with black. A few pairs of these will keep you going, for

they clean beautifully. A plain riding-whip _without_ a tassel,

and a second habit of dark holland if you live in the country, will

complete your necessary outfit.

I shall now give you a few hints as to the best method of putting on

your riding gear, and of preserving the same after rain or hard

weather. Your habit-maker will, of course, put large hooks around the

waist of your bodice, and eyes of corresponding size attached to the

skirt, so that both may be kept in their place, but if you have been

obliged to entrust your cloth to a country practitioner, who has

neglected these minor necessaries, be sure you look to them yourself,

or you will some day find that the opening of your skirt is right at

your back, and that the place shaped out for your knee has twisted

round until it hangs in unsightly crookedness in front of the buttons

of your bodice.

Let it be a rule with you to avoid using any pins. Put two or three

neat stitches in the back of your collar, so as to affix it to your

jacket, having first measured to see that the ends shall meet exactly

evenly in front, where you will fasten them neatly with a stud. The

ordinary system of placing one pin at the back of the collar and one at

either end is much to be deprecated. Frequently one of these pins

becomes undone, and then the discomfort is incalculable, especially if,

as often occurs, you are out for a long day, and nobody happens to be

able to accommodate you with another.

Pinning cuffs is also a reprehensible habit, for the reason just

stated. Two or three little stitches where they will not show, upon the

inner side of the sleeve, will hold the cuff securely in its place and

prevent it turning round or slipping up or down, any of which will be

calculated to cause discomfort to the rider.

It is not a bad method, either, to stitch a small button at the back of

the neck of the jacket, upon the inner side, upon which the collar can

be secured, fastening the cuffs in the same manner to buttons attached

to the inner portion of each sleeve. In short, anything in the shape of

a device which will check the unseemly habit of using a multiplicity of

pins, may be regarded as a welcome innovation, and at once adopted.

It is a good plan, when you undress from your ride, to ascertain

whether your collar and cuffs are sufficiently clean to serve you

another day, and if they are not, replace them at once by fresh ones;

for it may happen that when you go to attire yourself for your next

ride, you may he too hurried to look after what should always be a

positive necessity, namely, perfectly spotless linen.

There is a material, invented in America and as yet but little known

amongst us here, which is invaluable to all who ride. It is called

Celluloid, and from it collars, cuffs, and shirt-fronts are

manufactured which resemble the finest and whitest linen, yet which

never spot, never crush, never become limp, and never require washing,

save as one would wash a china saucer, in a basin of clear water, using

a fine soft towel for the drying process. I do not know the nature of

the composition, but I can certainly bear testimony to its worth, and

being inexpensive as well as convenient, it cannot fail, when known, to

become highly popular.

The adjusting of your hat is another important item. Stitch a piece of

black elastic (the single-cord round kind is the best) from one

side--the inner one of course--to the other, of just sufficient length

to catch well beneath your hair. This elastic you can stretch over the

leaf of your hat at the back, and then, when the hat is on and nicely

adjusted to your taste in front, you have only to put back your hand

and bring the band of elastic deftly under your hair. The hat will then

be immovable, and the elastic will not show. In fastening your veil, a

short steel pin with a round black head is the best. The steel slips

easily through the leaf of the hat, and the head, being glossy and

large, is easily found without groping or delay, whenever you may

desire to divest yourself of it.

I shall now tell you how to proceed with the various items of your

toilet on coming home, after being overtaken by stress of weather. No

matter how wealthy you may be, or how many servants you may be entitled

to keep, always look after these things yourself.

Hang the skirt of your habit upon a clothes-horse, with a stick placed

across inside to extend it fully. Leave it until thoroughly dry, and

then brush carefully. The bodice must be hung in a cool dry place, but

never placed near the fire, or the cloth will shrink, and probably

discolour.

Dip your veil into clear cold water, give it one or two gentle squeezes,

shake it out, and hang it on a line, spreading it neatly with your

fingers, so that it may take no fold in the drying.

Your hat comes next. Dip a fine small Turkey sponge, kept for the

purpose and freed from sand, into a basin of lukewarm water, and draw

it carefully around the hat. Repeat the process, going over every

portion of it, until crown, leaf, and all are thoroughly cleansed; then

hang in a cool, airy place to dry. In the morning take a soft brush,

which use gently over the entire surface, and you will have a perfectly

new hat. No matter how shabby may have been your headpiece, it will be

quite restored, and will look all the better for its washing. This is

one of the chief advantages of silk hats. Do not omit to brush after

the washing and drying process, or your hat will have that unsightly

appearance of having been ironed, which is so frequently seen in the

hunting-field, because gentlemen who are valeted on returning from

their sport care nothing about the management of their gear, but leave

it all to the valet, who gives the hat the necessary washing, but is

too lazy or too careless to brush it next day, and his master takes it

from his hand and puts it on without ever noticing its unsightliness.

Sometimes it is the master himself whose clumsy handiwork is to blame;

but be it master or servant, the result is too often the same.

Should your gloves be thoroughly, or even slightly wetted, stretch them

upon a pair of wooden hands kept for the purpose, and if they are the

kind which I have recommended to you--I mean the best quality of

double-stitched cream leather--they will be little the worse.

Having now, I think, exhausted the subject of your clothing, and given

you all the friendly hints in my power, I am ready to accompany you

upon your first road ride.

Go out with every confidence, accompanied of course by a companion or

attendant, and make up your mind never to be caught napping, but to be

ever on the alert. You must not lose sight of the fact that a bird

flitting suddenly across, a donkey's head laid without warning against

a gate, a goat's horns appearing over a wall, or even a piece of paper

blown along upon the ground, may cause your horse to shy, and if you

are not sitting close at the time, woe betide you! Always remember the

rule of the road, keep to your left-hand side, and if you have to pass

a vehicle going your way, do so on the right of it. Never neglect this

axiom, no matter how lonely and deserted the highway may appear, for

recollect that if you fail to comply with it, and that any accident

chances to occur, you will get all the blame, and receive no

compensation.

Never trot your horse upon a hard road when you have a bit of grass at

the side on which you can canter him. Even if there are only a few

blades it will be sufficient to take the jar off his feet.

If you meet with a hill or high bridge, trot him up and walk him

quietly down the other side. If going down a steep decline, sit well

back and leave him his head, at the same time keeping a watchful hand

upon the rein for fear he should chance to make a false step, that you

may be able to pull him up; but do not hold him tightly in, as many

timid riders are apt to do, thus hobbling his movements and preventing

him seeing where he is to put his feet. If he has to clamber a steep

hill with you, leave him unlimited head-room, for it is a great ease to

a horse to be able to stretch his neck, instead of being held tightly

in by nervous hands, which is frequently the occasion of his stumbling.

Should your horse show temper and attempt to back with you, leave him

the rein, touch him lightly with your heel, and speak encouragingly to

him; should he persist, your attendant must look to the matter; but a

horse who possesses this dangerous vice should never be ridden by a

lady. I have surmised that yours has been properly trained, and

doubtless you might ride for the greater portion of a lifetime without

having to encounter a decided jibber, but it is as well to be prepared

for all emergencies. Should a horse at any time rear with you, throw

the rein loose, sit close, and bring your whip sharply across his

flank. If this is not effectual, you may give him the butt-end of it

between the ears, which will be pretty sure to bring him down. This is

a point, however, upon which I write with considerable reserve, for

many really excellent riders find fault with the theory set forth and

adopted by me. One old sportsman in particular shows practically how

seriously he objects to it by suffering himself to be tumbled back upon

almost daily by a vicious animal, in preference to adopting coercive

measures for his own safety.

My reasons for striking a rearing horse are set forth with tolerable

clearness in one of the letters which form an appendix to this volume;

but, although I do it myself, I do not undertake the responsibility of

advising others to do likewise, especially if a nervous timidity form a

portion of their nature. I am strongly of opinion, however, that

decisive measures are at times an absolute necessity, and that the most

effectual remedy for an evil is invariably the best to adopt. I have

heard it said by two very eminent horsemen that to break a bottle of

water between the ears of a rearing animal is an excellent and

effectual cure. Perhaps it may be--and, on such authority, we must

suppose that it is--but I should not care to be the one to try it,

although I consider no preventive measure too strong to adopt when

dealing with so dangerous a vice. A horse may be guilty of jibbing,

bolting, kicking, or almost any other fault, through nervousness or

timidity, but rearing is a vicious trick, and must be treated with

prompt determination. It would be useless to speak encouragingly to a

rearer; he is vexing you from vice, not from nervousness, and so he

needs no reassurance--do not waste words upon him, but bring him to his

senses with promptitude, or whilst you are dallying he may tumble back

upon you, and put remonstrance out of your power for some time to come,

if not for ever. In striking him, if you do so, do not indulge in the

belief that you are safe because he drops quickly upon his fore-legs,

but on the contrary, be fully prepared for the kick or buck which will

be pretty sure to follow, and which (unless watched for) will be likely

to unseat even a most skilful rider. Both rearing and plunging may,

however, be effectually prevented by using the circular bit and

martingale, procurable at Messrs. Davis, saddlers, 14, Strand, London.

This admirable contrivance should be fitted above the mouthpiece of an

ordinary snaffle or Pelham bridle. It is infinitely before any other

which I have seen used for the same purpose, has quite a separate

headstall, and should be put on and arranged before the addition of the

customary bridle. Being secured to the breastplate by a standing

martingale, it requires no reins.

CHAPTER V.

RUNNING AWAY.--THREE DANGEROUS ADVENTURES.--HOW TO ACT WHEN PLACED

IN CIRCUMSTANCES OF PERIL.--HOW TO RIDE A PULLER.--THROUGH THE

CITY.--TO A MEET OF HOUNDS.--BOASTFUL LADIES.--A BRAGGART'S RESOURCE.

In the event of a horse running away, you must of course be guided by

circumstances and surroundings, but my advice always is, if you have a

fair road before you, let him go. Do not attempt to hold him in, for

the support which you afford him with the bridle only helps the

mischief. Leave his head quite loose, and when you feel him beginning

to tire--which he will soon do without the support of the rein--flog

him until he is ready to stand still. I warrant that a horse treated

thus, especially if you can breast him up hill, will rarely run away a

second time. He never forgets his punishment, nor seeks to put himself

in for a repetition of it.

I have been run away with three times in my life, but never a second

time by the same horse. It may amuse you to hear how I escaped upon

each occasion.

The first time, I was riding a beautiful little thoroughbred mare,

which a dear lady friend--now, alas! dead--had asked me to try for her.

The mare had been a flat-racer, and, having broken down in one of her

trials, had been purchased at a cheap rate, being still possessed of

beauty and a considerable turn of speed.

Well, we got on splendidly together for an hour or so on the fifteen

acres, Phoenix Park, but, when returning homewards, some boys who

were playing close by struck her with a ball on the leg. In a second

she was off like the wind, tearing down the long road which leads from

the Phoenix to the gates. She had the bit between her teeth, and held

it like a vice. My only fear was lest she should lose her footing and

fall, for the roadway was covered from edge to edge with new shingle.

On she went in her mad career, amidst the shrieks of thousands, for the

day was Easter Monday, and the park was crowded. Soldiers, civilians,

lines of policemen strove to form a barrier for her arrest. In vain!

She knocked down some, fled past others, and continued her headlong

course.

All this time I was sitting as if glued to my saddle. At the mare's

first starting I had endeavoured to pull her up, but finding that this

was hopeless, I left the rein loose upon her neck. Having then no

support for her head, she soon tired, and the instant I felt her speed

relaxing I took up my whip and punished her within an inch of her life.

I _made_ her go when she wanted to stop, and only suffered her to

pull up just within the gates, where she stood covered with foam and

trembling in every limb.

Her owner subsequently told me that during the three years which she

afterwards kept her she never rode so biddable a mare.

I must not forget to mention the comic side of the adventure as well as

the more serious. It struck me as being particularly ludicrous upon

that memorable occasion that an old gentleman, crimson with wrath,

actually attacked my servant in the most irate manner because he had

not clattered after me during the progress of the mare's wild career.

"How dare you, sir," cried this irascible old gentleman, "how dare you

attempt to neglect your young lady in this cowardly manner?" Nor was

his anger at all appeased when informed that I as a matron was my own

care-taker, and that my attendant had strict injunctions _not_ to

follow me in the event of my horse being startled or running away.

My next adventure was much more serious, and occurred also within the

gates of the Phoenix Park.

Some troops were going through a variety of manoeuvres preparing for

a field-day, and a knot of them had been posted behind and around a

large tree with fixed bayonets in their hands. Suddenly they got the

order to move, and at the same instant the sun shone out and glinted

brilliantly upon the glittering steel. I was riding a horse which had

lately been given me; a fine, raking chestnut, with a temper of his own

to manage. He turned like a shot, and sped away at untold speed. I had

no open space before me; therefore I durst not let him go. It was an

enclosed portion of the park, thickly studded with knots of trees, and

I knew that if he bore me through one of these my earthly career would

most probably be ended. I strove with all the strength and all the art

which I possessed to pull him up. It was of no use. I might as well

have been pulling at an oak-tree; it only made him go the faster.

Happily my presence of mind remained. I saw at once that my only chance

was to breast him against the rails of the cricket-ground, and for

these I made straight, prepared for the shock and for the turn over

which I knew must inevitably follow. He dashed up to the rails, and

when within a couple of inches of them he swerved with an awful

suddenness, which, only that I was accustomed to ride from balance,

must have at once unseated me, and darted away at greater speed than

ever. Right before me was a tree, one heavy bough of which hung very

low--and straight for this he made, nor could I turn his course. I knew

my fate, and bent on a level with my saddle, but not low enough, for

the branch caught me in the forehead and sent me reeling senseless to

the ground.

I soon got over the shock, although my arm (which was badly torn by a

projecting branch) gave me some trouble after; but the bough was cut

down the next day by order of the Lord Lieutenant, and the park-rangers

still point out the spot as the place where "the lady was nearly

killed."

My third runaway was a hunting adventure, and occurred only a few

months since.

I had a letter one morning from an old friend, informing me that a

drag-hunt was to take place about thirty miles from Dublin to finish

the season with the county harriers, and that he, my friend, wished

very much that I would come down in my habit by the mid-day train and

ride a big bay horse of his, respecting which he was desirous of

obtaining my opinion. I never take long to make up my mind, so, after a

glance at my tablets, which showed me that I was free for the day, I

donned my habit, and caught the specified train.

At the station at the end of my journey I found the big bay saddled and

awaiting me, and having mounted him I set off for the kennels, from a

field near which the drag was to be run. I took the huntsman for a

pilot, knowing that the servant, who was my attendant, was rather a

duffer at the chase.

The instant that the hounds were laid on and the hunt started, my big

mount commenced to pull hard, and by the time the first fence was

reached his superior strength had completely mastered mine. He was

pulling like a steam-engine, head down, ears laid backward, neck set

like iron. My blistered hands were powerless to hold him. He rushed

wildly at the fence, and striking the horse of a lady who was just

landing over it, turned him and his rider a complete somersault! I

subsequently learned that the lady escaped unhurt, but I could not at

the moment pause to inquire, for my huge mount, clearing the jump and

ten feet beyond it, completely took head, and bore me away from the

field

Over park, over pale,

Through bush, through briar,

until my head fairly reeled, and I felt that some terrible calamity

must ensue.

Happily he was a glorious fencer, or I must have perished, for he

jumped every obstacle with a rush; staked fences, wide ditches--so wide

that he landed over them on his belly--tangled gorse, and branches of

rivers swollen by recent rains; he flew them all. At length, when my

strength was quite exhausted and my dizzy brain utterly powerless and

confused, I beheld before me a stone wall, a high one, with heavy

coping-stones upon the top. At this I resolved to breast him, and run

my chance for life or death in the turn over, which, from the pace at

which we were approaching it, I knew must be a mighty one. In a moment

we were up to it and, with a cry to heaven for mercy, I dug him with my

spur and sent him at it. To my utter astonishment, for the wall was six

and a half feet high, he put down his head, rushed at it, cleared it

without ever laying a shoe upon the topmost stones, and landed with a

frightful slip and clatter, but still safely on his feet--where? in the

midst of a farm-yard.

Were it not that this adventure actually occurred to myself, I should

be strongly tempted to question its authenticity. That there are

horses--especially Irish ones--quite capable of compassing such a jump,

there cannot be the slightest doubt; but I have never before or since

seen one who could do it without being steadied as he approached the

obstacle. In the ordinary course of events a runaway steed would strike

it with his head and turn over,--which was what I expected and

desired--but no such thing occurred, and to the latest hour of my life

it must remain a mystery to me that upon the momentous occasion in

question neither horse nor rider was injured, nor did any accident

ensue. Nothing more disastrous than a considerable disturbance in the

farm-yard actually occurred; but it was indeed a mighty one.

Such a commotion amongst fowls was surely never witnessed; the ducks

quacked, the turkeys screeched, the hens ran hither and thither; two

pigs, eating from a trough close by, set up a most terrific squalling,

dogs barked, and two or three women, who were spreading clothes upon a

line, added to the general confusion by flinging down the garments

with which they had been busy and taking to their heels, shrieking

vociferously. In the meantime the big bay, perceiving that he had run

to the end of his tether, stood snorting and foaming, looking hither

and thither in helpless amazement and dismay; whilst I, relieved at

length of my anxiety, burst first into tears, and then into shouts of

hearty laughter, as I fully took in the absurdity of the situation.

After a considerable delay one of the women was induced to come forward

and listen to a recital of my adventure; and the others, being assured

that "the baste" would not actually devour them, came near me also, and

we held an amicable council as to the possibility of my ever getting

out, for the gates were locked, and the owner of the property was away

at a fair in the neighbouring town and had the key stowed away in his

pocket. To jump the wall again was impracticable. No horse that ever

was foaled could do it in cool blood; nor was I willing to risk the

experiment, even if my steed made no objection.

At length we decided upon the only plan. I dismounted, and, taking the

rein over my arm, led my mighty hunter across the yard, induced him to

stoop his head to enter by a back door through a passage in the

farmhouse, and from thence through the kitchen and front door, out on

to the road. I have a cheerful recollection of an old woman, who was

knitting in the chimney-corner, going off into screams and hysterics as

I and my big steed walked in upon her solitude, a loose shoe and a very

audible blowing making the entrance of my equine companion even more

_prononce_ than it would otherwise have been. The poor old

creature flung down her needles, together with the cat which had been

quietly reposing in her lap, and kicking up her feet yelled and

bellowed at the top of a very discordant voice. It took the combined

efforts of all four women to pacify her, and she was still shrieking

long after I had mounted the big bay and ridden him back to inform his

owner of how charmingly he had behaved.

I have now told you three anecdotes, partly for your amusement and

partly for your instruction; but I would not have you think that it

would be at all times and under all circumstances a wise thing to ride

a runaway horse against so formidable an obstacle as a stone wall. Mine

was, I hope, an exceptional case. When the animal was led down to meet

me at the station, I saw, not without misgiving, that I was destined to

ride in a so-called "safety-stirrup," and at the time when he took head

with me my foot was fixed as in a vice in this dangerous and horrible

trap, from which I could not succeed in releasing it. Feeling that my

brain was whirling, and that I could not longer maintain my seat in the

saddle, I rode for an overthrow, which I deemed infinitely better than

being dragged by the foot over an intricate country, and most probably

having my brains scattered by a pair of crashing heels. If a horse

should at any time run away with you, keep your seat whilst you

_can_ do so, and whilst you have anything of a fair road before

you; but if there is any danger of your being thrown or losing your

seat whilst your foot is caught, then by all means ride for a fall; put

your horse at something that will bring him down, and when he _is_

down struggle on to his head, that he may not rise until somebody has

come to your assistance. Of course the experiment is fraught with

excessive danger, but it is not _certain_ death, as the other

alternative must undoubtedly be. I cannot, however, wish you better

than to hope most fervently that you may never be placed in a position

which would necessitate your making a choice between two such mighty

evils. Avoid riding strange horses. No matter how accomplished a

horsewoman you may become, do not be too ready to comply with the

request to try this or that unknown mount. I have done it myself,

often, and probably shall again;[1] but my experience prompts me to

warn others against a practice which is frequently fraught with danger

to a lady. A horse knows quite well when a strange or timid rider gets

upon his back, and if he does not kill you outright, he will probably

make such a "hare" of you as will not be at all agreeable, either for

yourself or for the lookers-on.

[1] This was written previous to the accident which has

disabled me.

Whenever you take a young horse upon grass, whether he be a stranger to

you or otherwise, be prepared for a certain show of friskiness which he

does not usually exhibit upon the road. The soft springy turf beneath

his feet imbues him with feelings of hilarity which he finds himself

powerless to resist, and so you, his rider, must prepare for his little

vagaries. He will, most probably, in the first place try a succession

of bucks, and for these you must prepare by sitting very close to your

saddle, your knee well pressed against the leaping-head, and your

figure erect, but not thrown back, as the shock, or shocks to your

spine would in such a case be not only painful but positively

dangerous, and should therefore be carefully avoided. He will next be

likely to romp away, pulling you much harder than is at all agreeable,

and seemingly inclined to take head with you altogether. As a remedy

against this you must neither yield to him nor pull against him. I have

heard fairly good riders advocate by turns both systems of management,

especially the former; indeed, the expression, "Drop your hands to

him," has become so general amongst teachers of the equestrian art,

that it has almost passed into a proverb. I do not advocate it, nor do

I deem it advisable ever to pull against a pulling horse. When an

animal tries to forereach you, you should neither give up to him nor

yet pull one ounce against him. Close your fingers firmly upon the

reins and keep your arms perfectly motionless, your hands well down,

without giving or taking one quarter of an inch. In a stride or two he

will be sure to yield to your hand, at which moment you should

immediately yield to him, and his wondrous powers of intelligence will

soon enable him to discern that you are not to be trifled with. Were

you to give up to him when he rushes away or romps with his head he

would very soon be going all abroad, and would give you a vast amount

of trouble to pull him into proper form. Above all things, keep clear

of trees, of which I myself have an unbounded dread. Should you have

occasion to ride through a city, give your eyes and attention to your

horse, and not to passing acquaintances, for in the present dangerous

tangle of tramlines, slippery pavements, and ill-driven vehicles, it

will require all your energies to bring you safely through. Never trot

your horse through a town or city: walk him quietly through such

portion of it as you have to pass, and leave him abundant head-room,

that his intelligence may pick out a way for his own steps.

A very nice ride for a lady is to a meet of the hounds, if such should

occur within reasonable distance, say from four to eight miles. The

sight is a very pretty one, and there is not any reason why you should

not thoroughly enjoy it; but having only ridden to see the meet, you

must be careful not to interfere with, nor get in the way of those

about to ride the run. Nothing is more charming than to see three or

four ladies, nicely turned out, arrive to grace the meet with their

presence, but nothing is more abominable than the same number of

amazons coming galloping up in full hunting toggery, although without

the least idea of hunting, and rushing hither and thither, frightening

the hounds and getting in everybody's way, as though they were

personages of the vastest possible importance, and meant to ride with a

skill not second to that of the Nazares. Such women are the horror and

spoliation of every hunting-field. They dash off with the hounds the

moment the fox is found, but happily the first fence stops them, and a

fervent thankfulness is felt by every true lover of the chase as they

pause discomfited, look dismally at the yawning chasm, and jog

crestfallen away to the road.

There are many ladies, and estimable ladies, too, who take out their

horses every hunting-day, and by keeping upon the roadways see all that

they can of the hounds. Sometimes they are fortunate, sometimes not; it

depends upon the line of country taken. Their position is, in my

opinion, a most miserable one; yet they must derive enjoyment from it,

else why do they come? They surely cannot imagine that they are

participating in the hunt; yet it affords them amusement to keep

pottering about, and enables them to make their little harmless boast

to credulous friends of their "hunting days," and the "runs" they have

seen throughout the season. Indeed, so far does this passion for

boasting carry the fair sex, that I myself know two young ladies who

never saw a hound in their lives, except from the inside of a shabby

waggonette, yet who brag in so audacious a manner that they have been

heard to declare to gentlemen at evening dances, "Really we cawn't

dawnce; we are so tired! Out all day with the Wards--and had _such a

clipping run_!"

This sort of thing only makes us smile when we hear it amongst ladies,

but when men resort to it we become inspired with sufficient contempt

to feel a longing desire to offer them severer chastisement than our

derision.

I once asked a little mannikin, who had given himself the name and airs

of a great rider, if he would be kind enough to pilot me over an

intricate piece of country with which I was unacquainted. The creature

pulled his little moustaches, and sniffed, and hemmed and hawed, and

finally said, "Aw, I'm sure I should be delighted, but you see I ride

_so deuced hard_, I should not expect a lady to be able to keep up

with me." I said nothing, but acted as my own pilot, and took

opportunity to watch my hard-riding friend during the course of the

run. He positively never jumped a fence, but worked rampantly at locks

of gates, and bribed country-folks to let him pass through. The last I

saw of him he was whipping his horse over a narrow ditch, preparatory

to scrambling it himself on foot.

And this man was only one of many, for the really accomplished rider

never boasts.

PART III.

HUNTING.