ON HUNTING. 35 



V. 



BRIDLE AND SADDLE. 



IT is high time that you and I came down to earth and 

 stern realities. With the utmost abandon we have 

 flourished over the cream of Leicestershire, dealt* with 

 its bullfinches, oxers and water ; it was but child's 

 play. The walls of Galway and Badminton held for us 

 no fears. The " narrows " of Limerick, the ditches and 

 " doubles ' of Meath, were as naught in our wild career. 

 But it was all like riding a hunt from the railway carriage 

 window. How easy does it seem to sweep from fence to fence, 

 to select the right spot in each. No sooner do we drop, light 

 as air, into one field, than the way out of it suggests itself 

 in a flash. Nothing causes a moment's delay ; no pack 

 ever existed that could shake us off. But let us cast from 

 us these vain imaginings and get to practical business. One 

 hears a great deal about " hands," that quality most essential 

 to horsemanship. The principal means of communication 

 between man and horse are from rider's hands to horse's 

 mouth ; and whether the horse goes pleasantly and safely 

 or the reverse depends on the touch conveyed. There are 

 good hands and bad hands, light and heavy, restraint 

 without pain or irritation or pull devil pull baker, which 

 means discomfort, danger, lost temper and the possible, 

 nay probable, spoiling of a good horse. Good " hands " 

 are the outcome of touch and sympathy. A motor 

 driver has " hands " when he changes speed on a hill, 

 from top to third, double clutches, and skims upward 

 without the click of a gear tooth and without imperceptibly 

 changing the motion of his car ; and the man has none who 

 fails to change till his " revs " have fallen too low, thrusts 

 in his third with a scream when engine and gear speeds are 



