PREFACE 



Who amongst us does not know the trials attend- 

 ing the beginning of a fresh season. The first time 

 you ride after months of rest is a species of torture 

 unknown to the general public. As a rule, the boots 

 which were so comfortable at the end of the season 

 have been put in thorough repair. They are so hard 

 and stiff you can scarcely draw them on, and when 

 you endeavour to walk downstairs, you feel like a cat 

 in walnut shells. The day is in all probability broiling 

 hot. You cannot even think of your usual attire 

 except with abject horror, and you array yourself (I 

 now have especially women in my mind) in kind of 

 nondescript garments, starting with a straw hat with 

 an elastic which has received no attention during the 

 interregnum and looks all right but is useless. You 

 have forgotten how to arrange your tie with that 

 exactitude for which you were famed, having taken 

 twice your usual time to dress you are ready to start 

 — on a mountain of flesh, something like a badly drawn 

 cow. Hov/ different to the animal when you dis- 

 mounted after the last day of the season — all spring 

 and muscle, treading as though going on air — a trifle 

 full, perhaps. 



The mountain moves off with shoes which have 

 only recently been put on, and you know at once your 

 horse feels very much the same as yourself in well 

 repaired boots. The horse itself is a mixture of sloth 

 and spirits — very unpleasant to the rider, and add to 

 this the fact the flies are biting sharp (which gives one 

 hope of much needed rain) the discomfort of that first 

 ride is complete. Most likely your stable department, 

 in the absence of any particular amount of work, have 

 spent their leisure moments in polishing your saddle, 

 which gives you the feeling of sitting on ice, and when 

 the turn for spirits seizes your animal, how you wish 

 the stable department had refrained from spending 

 their extra time over the saddle. 



The foregoing exactly describes my feelings on my 

 second volume. I look forward, however, to a very 

 pleasant time in giving the details of the seasons 

 during Mr. Carnegy's Mastership. The scent will be 

 good, and the difficulties, thanks to the vast amount of 

 information provided by my good friends, are not so 

 heavy. 



