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.
I said at the commencement of these pages that I should offer little or
no discourse upon the general management of horses; yet, in one
reserved instance, I may be permitted to break through my rule. If you
want your hunters to thrive, do not let them have a single grain of raw
oats. People have laughed at me when I said this, and have scarcely
waited for the turning of my back to call me a mad woman; but a few of
the scoffers have since come to thank me, and if you adopt my plan you
will think that this little volume would have been cheap at a ten-pound
note. There are, of course, times when raw oats must be given, for your
horse may not always be in your own stable. At such times it is a good
plan to mix chopped clover or grass through the feeding, taking care
that grain and clover be thoroughly mingled. The judicious mixture of
green meat will go far towards counteracting the binding effects which
raw oats will be likely to have upon a horse not accustomed to it, and
will also induce him to masticate his food, which an animal inured to
softer feeding will otherwise be apt to neglect, wasting the corn by
dropping it from his mouth in a slobbering fashion, making no use
whatever of his grinders, and swallowing a certain portion without
chewing it at all. I am, for various tried reasons, a thorough advocate
for Mayhew's and Shingler's style of feeding upon cooked food, mingled,
of course, with good sweet hay, or an admixture of the juicy grasses
upon which the animal in its unfettered state would be prone to live.
In my stable-yard are a large boiler and an unlimited supply of good
water. The groom boils sufficient oats to do for two or three days,
and, when cool, mixes through it a small proportion of bruised Indian
corn. On this the horses are fed as with ordinary oats three times
daily, and so enjoy the feeding that not one grain is left in the
mangers, which are placed _low upon the ground_. The surest proof
of the efficacy of this excellent and economical feeding is that my
horses never sweat, never blow, never tire. When other hunters are
standing still, mine have not turned a hair; and, as prize-winners and
brilliant goers, they cannot be excelled.
The principle I go on is this:--If I eat a cupful of raw rice, it
certainly does me no good; but if I boil it, it makes three or four
times the quantity of good, wholesome, digestible food, every grain of
which goes to the nourishment of my body. And it is precisely so with
the oats and the horse. In addition to this feeding, I give abundance
of good, sweet, _moist_ hay, varied by green food in summer,
substituting carrots in the winter-time, of which vegetable they are
particularly fond. The carrots are given whole, either from my hand or
put loosely in the manger. I never suffer them to be cut up, unless it
be done _very finely_, either by myself or under my supervision, to
induce a delicate feeder to taste his food through which the chopped
carrots are rubbed. Grooms, with their accustomed ignorance, are almost
always in favour of the "cutting up," but I regard it as a most
dangerous practice. If the carrot be left whole the horse will nibble
at it, and will bite off just such pieces as he knows he can chew and
swallow, but there is more than one instance upon record of horses
choking themselves with pieces of cut carrot, and very many who have
nearly done so. I can feed my horses upon this system for very little
more than half the sum which my neighbours are expending, with
advantages which are certainly fourfold. I consider it an excellent
plan to vary horses' feeding, as it tells quite as beneficially upon
animals as upon ourselves;--and for this purpose there cannot, in my
opinion, be anything better than the forage-biscuits, manufactured
by Spratt & Co., Henry Street, London, ten of which are equal to one
good feed of oats, and are so relished that not so much as a crumb
is suffered to go to waste. They combine all the most nutritious of
grains, with dates and linseed added in such proportions as experience
has pointed out to the inventor to be the best. They are then baked,
and thoroughly dried, so that they are entirely deprived of moisture,
and will consequently keep good for any length of time. The baking
process being complete, they are, when eaten, practically
half-digested,--or, as I may say, they present the materials to the
horse in the most digestible form in which it is possible to give them.
There are certain chemicals used in very minute quantities in the
manufacture of these biscuits, which are productive of highly
beneficial effects upon animals thus fed,--improving their muscular
development, and imparting to their coats a peculiarly healthy and
brilliant appearance. One feed of the forage-biscuits three or four
times weekly is the proper allowance,--and they should be given whole,
as the same objection applies to the breaking of them as I have set
forth in my dissertation upon the cutting up of carrots.
I now desire to warn you that if you hunt in Ireland you must be
prepared for the laughable and most ingenious frauds which the poor
people--alas! _how_ poor--will certainly endeavour to practise upon
you. I can, and do most fully, commiserate their poverty, but with
their attempts at imposition I have long since lost patience. Doubtless
they think that everybody who hunts is of necessity a rich person, and
conceive the idea that by fleecing the wealthy they will aid in
blotting out the poverty of the land. Nothing delights the old
cottage-woman more than to kill an ancient hen or duck on a
hunting-morning, and then, when the hunt comes sweeping past her door,
out rushes the beldame with the bird concealed beneath her apron, and
throwing it deftly--positively by a species of sleight of hand--beneath
your horse's hoofs, kicks up a mighty whining, and declares that you
have "kilt her beauty-ful fowl!" I was so taken aback upon the first of
these occasions that I actually stopped and paid the price demanded;
but, finding that the same thing occurred the following week in a
different locality, I ascertained that it was a trick and declined to
be farther hocussed.
It is likewise a common thing for a man to accost you, demanding a
shilling, and declaring that it was he who pulled your ladyship's horse
out of the ditch or quagmire on such and such a day. You do not
remember ever having seen his face before; but if you are a hard-riding
lady you will be so frequently assisted out of difficulties that you
cannot undertake to say who nor how many may have helped you
unrewarded, and, being unwilling that any should so suffer, you bestow
the coin, most likely in many instances, until you find that your
generosity has become known and is consequently being traded upon.
I remember one day, a couple of winters ago, when returning from
hunting, I lost my way, and being desirous of speedily re-finding it, I
accosted a ragged being whom I saw standing at a corner where four
roads met, and inquired of him the most direct route to the point which
I was desirous of reaching. The creature hitched his shoulders,
scratched his collarless neck, pushed the hat from his sunburnt
forehead, and, finally, looking down and rubbing the fore-finger of his
right hand upon the palm of his left, thus delivered himself:
"I axed him for a ha'penny, and he wouldn't give it to me; but he put
his hand into his pocket and pulled out a pinny, and gave it to me, and
I took it in--ho, ho! and he gave me a letter to take up to Mrs.
Johnston, and when I took it to her, she opened it and read it. Now,
didn't I give her the letter?"
"Really," said I, "I know nothing about Mrs. Johnston nor her letter. I
want to know the nearest way to Dunboyne station."
"I axed him for a ha'penny," began the man again. And then I had the
whole story of the "pinny" and "Mrs. Johnston" repeated for me over and
over, without a smile or any variation, until my vexation vanished, and
I fairly roared with laughter. Guessing at once how the land lay, I
produced a little coin with which I presented him, and which he
immediately pocketed, and, touching his ragged feather, pointed down
one of the roads, and said quite sensibly, "That's the right road, my
lady." And so I found it. This man, I was subsequently informed, made
quite a respectable maintenance by stationing himself at the
cross-roads on daily duty, and informing every passer-by that he "axed
for a ha'penny" but was generously treated to a "pinny," together with
the story of Mrs. Johnston and her letter, accompanied by all the
shruggings, and scratchings, and sniffings, which never failed to
provoke the laughter of the hearer and to elicit the coveted coin.
The Irish, with all their little failings, are a hospitable people, and
full of pungent wit. I was one evening wending my way to Sallins
station, after a long and wearisome day's hunting. My tired horse was
suffering from an over-reach, and I was taking him as quietly as I
could, consistently with my anxiety to be in time to catch the train by
which I desired to return to town. So utterly jaded were we both--I and
my steed--that the way appeared very long indeed, and I asked the first
countryman whom I met how far it was to Sallins. "Three miles," he told
me, and I jogged on again. When we had traversed quite a long distance,
and I thought I must be very near my journey's end, I ventured upon
asking the same question of a farmer whom I met riding a big horse in
an opposite direction to that in which I was myself going. It was a
matter of about two miles, he told me, or mayhap three, but not more he
thought, and I was certainly not going wrong; I was on the right road,
and no mistake. I took out my watch. No hope for me now. I was
undoubtedly late for the train which I had hoped to catch, and must
wait two long hours for the next. A poor-looking little cottage was
close at hand; to it I trotted, and looked in at the door. The family
were at supper, all gathered about a narrow table, in the middle of
which lay a pile of unpeeled potatoes and a little salt. The mule, upon
which much of their fortune depended, was supping with them; thrusting
his poor attenuated nose over the shoulders of the children, and
occasionally snatching a potato, always receiving a box for so doing,
to which, however, he paid no sort of heed. I was at once invited to
enter, and gladly accepted the invitation, for I was cold and tired,
pleased to ease my horse and get him a draught of meal and water. I sat
down in the chimney-corner, thankful for the rest, but determined to
withstand all entreaties to share the family supper, and my risible
faculties were sorely put to the test, when my host, balancing a potato
upon his fork and dipping it in the salt, presented it to me, saying,
"Arrah! take it my lady, just _for the jig o' the thing_!" Of
course I took it; and never have I enjoyed the richest luxury of an
_a la Russe_ dinner more than that simple potato in a poor man's
cabin, in company with the mule and the pigs. When I stood up to go I
carefully inquired the distance, for it was dark, and I had long since
lost the remainder of my party. The man offered to accompany me to the
station, and I believe he was actuated solely by civility, and not by
any hope of gain. My horse was sadly done up; he had stiffened on the
over-reach, and limped painfully. We proceeded but slowly, and, sighing
for the patient suffering of my dearly-loved steed, I made the
observation that the miles were very long indeed. "They _are_
long, my lady," said the man, who was walking before me with a
lanthorn; "but, shure and faith, if they're long they're narra'!" And
with this most intelligent observation he closed his mouth, and left me
to ponder upon it undisturbed until we arrived at the station.
One more anecdote, and I have done with them.
On one of last season's hunting-days the hounds met at Courtown, and
great excitement was abroad, for the Imperial lady was expected to join
the chase. She was, however, prevented through indisposition from
attending, but Prince Liechtenstein and a very distinguished company
came over from Summerhill. As we were trotting to the covert the
country-folks were all on the alert, for not having heard of the
disappointment respecting the Empress they were anxiously expecting
her, and many were the surmises respecting her identity. I was riding
close to the front, escorted by Lord Cloncurry, and as we swept past
one of the wayside cottages, two men and a woman rushed out to stare at
us and to give their opinions upon the "Impress." "Which is she?" cried
the female, shading her eyes to have a good look,--"That must be
_her_ in front, with his lordship. Oh! isn't she lovely? A quane,
every inch!"
"Arrah! shut up, woman," said one of the men, testily interrupting her.
"That's not her at all, nor a taste like her! _The Impress is a
good-lookin' woman._" I need not say that this genuinely-uttered
remark took the wind completely out of my sails, and that I have never
since dreamed of comparing my personal appearance with that of any
woman whom an Irishman would call "good-lookin'."