HAND. 85 



he deny a half-tired animal that support, amounting even 

 to a dead pull, which might cause a hunter fresh out of his 

 stable to imagine his utmost exertions were required 

 forthwith. Nevertheless, whether "lobbing along" 

 through deep ground at the punishing period, when we 

 wish our fun was over, or fingering a rash one delicately 

 for his first fence, a stile, we will say, downhill with a 

 bad take-off, when we could almost wish it had not 

 begun, we equally require such a combination of skill 

 science, and sagacity, or rather common-sense, as goes 

 by the name of "hand." When the player possesses 

 this quality in perfection it is wonderful how much can 

 be done with the instrument of which he holds the 

 strings. I remember seeing the Reverend John Bower, 

 an extraordinarily fine rider of the last generation, hand 

 his horse over an ugly iron-bound stile, on to some 

 stepping-stones, with a drop of six or seven feet, into a 

 Leicestershire lane, as calmly as if the animal had been 

 a lady whom he was taking out for a walk. He pulled 

 it back into a trot, sitting very close and quiet, with his 

 harfd raised two or three inches above the withers, and 

 I can still recall, as if I had seen it yesterday, the curve 

 of neck and quarters, as, gently mouthing the bit, that 

 well-broken hunter poised lightly for its spring, and 

 landing in the same collected form, picked its way 



