332 



NKW ENC^r.A.M) I AUMER, 



Mny 7, 1830 



LIBRARY OP USEFUL KNOW^LEDGB. 



[Cntnut* /rrm ragi ?M.] 

 CBAPTCH IV. 



THE DIFFERENT nilEEDS OF ENGLISH 

 HOUSES. 



The hunter inny be fiiirly riilJen twice, or if 

 not with any very hard ihiys, three times in tlie 

 week ; hut nfter a thornnghly hard day, nnd evi- 

 dent distress, three or four days' rest sliould he al- 

 lowed. Tliey who are inorciful to tlifir horses, 

 allow about thirty duy.s' work in the course of the 

 season ; with gentle cxert-i.se on each of the in- 

 termediate days, and particularly a Hweat on the 

 day before hunting. There is an account, how- 

 over, of one horse who followed the fox-hounds 

 aeventydvo times in one season. This feat has 

 never been exceeded. 



We recollect to have seen the last Duke of Rich- 

 mond but one, although an old man, nnd when he 

 Lad the gout in his liands so severely that he was 

 obliged to be lifted on horseback, and both amis be- 

 ing passed through the reins, were crossed on his 

 breast, galloping down the steepest part of Bow 

 Hill, in the ueigl.horhood of Goodwood, almost as 

 abrupt as the ridge of an ordinary bouse, and 

 cheering on the hounds with all the ardor of a 

 youth.* 



The horse. fully .shares in the enthusiam of his 

 rider. It is beautiful to watch the old hunter, 

 who, after many a winters' hard work, is turned 

 into the park to enjoy himself for life. His atti- 

 tude and his countenance when, perchance he 

 hears the distant cry of the dogs, are a study. If 

 he can, lie will break his fence, and over hedge, 

 and lane, and brook, follow the chase, and come 

 in first at the death. 



' Sir John Malcolm, in hie Bketchcs of Persia, ffives 

 an amusing account of the impression which a fox liunt 

 in the Enjriiati atyle made on an .^rab. 



' 1 was entertained by listening to an Arab peasant, 

 who, with .nnimatcd gestures was narrating to a group 

 of his countrymen all he had seen of this noble hunt 

 " There came the fox," said he, pointing with a crooked 

 stick to a clump of dale troea; " there he came at a great 

 rate. I hallooed, but nobody heard nie, and I thought 

 ho must get away ; but when he got fjuite out of siglu, 

 up camo a larg« spotted dog, ana then another and 

 another. They all had their noses to the ground, and 

 gave tongue — whow, whow, whow,so loud, I was fright- 

 ened. Away went these devils, who soon found the 

 poor animal. After them galloped the Foringoes (a cor- 

 ruption of Frank, the name given to an Kuropean over 

 all Asia,) ihouting and trying to make a noise louder 

 than the dogs. No wonder they killed the fox among 

 thom." ' 



The Treasurer, Burleigh, the sage councillor of 

 Queen Elizabeth, could nt)t enter into the pleasures of 

 the chase. Old Andrew Fuller relates a quaint story of 

 him : — 



' When some nobleman had gotten William Cecil, 

 Lord Burleigh to ride with tlieiii a hunting, and the 

 sport began to be cold, " What call you this r^' said the 

 treasurer. " Oh! now th* dogs ore at fjult," was the re- 

 ply. " Yea," quoth the treasurer, " take me again in 

 such a fault, and I'll giv^ you leave to punish me " ' 



In former times it was tno fashion for women to bunt 

 as often and as keenly as the men. Queen Elizabeth 

 was oitrcmnly fond of the chase. Rowland Whyte, in 

 a Utter to .Sir Robert Sidney, says, ' Her miijosly is 

 well, and excellently diH|>osod to hunlinir ; for cvoiy 

 Mcond day she is on hoiseback, and continues the sport 

 long.; 



'1 Ills custom soon afterwards began to decline, and 

 the jakoa and sarcasms of the witty court of Charles II. 

 contributed to discountenance it. 



It is a curious circumxtanee, that the first work on 

 biiniing that proceeded from the prois, was from the pen 

 ofa fiMiiale, Juliana llurnes, or Bsrners, tb« sister of Lord 

 I'erniirs.anil prioroasoi the nunnery of Sopewull, about 

 the year Mijl. 



A horse that had, a short time before, been se- 

 verely fired oil three legs, nnd was placed in a 

 loose box, with the door, four feet high, closed, 

 and nn aperture over it litlle more than three feet 

 square, nnd HiatidinL' himself nearly sixteen honils, 

 nnd master of fifteen sione, hearing the cheering 

 of the huntsman nnd the cry of the dogs nl no 

 great distance, sprung through the aperture with- 

 out leaving a single mark on the bottom, the tup, 

 or the sides. ^ 



Then, if the horse be thus rcarty to exert him- 

 self for our pleasure — and pleasure alone is here 

 the object — it is indefensihle and briilul to urge 

 liiin beyond his own natiir.il ardor, so severely as 

 w - sometimes do, and even until nature is quite 

 cxhntisteil. We do not often hear of u ' h ird 

 day,' without being likewise informed, that one or 

 more horses either died in the field, or scarcely 

 reached home before they expired. Some have 

 been thoughtless and cruel enongh to kill two 

 horses in one day. One of the severe.st chases 

 on recoril was by the King's .stag hoiimls. There 

 was an uninterrupted burst of four hours nnd 

 twenty minutes. One horse dropped dead in the 

 field ; another died before he rould reach the slu- 

 ble ; nnd seven more within n week afterwards. 



It is very conceivable, nnd does sometimes hap- 

 pen, that entering as fiiliy as his master into the 

 sports of the day, the horse disdains .Jo yield to 

 fiitigiic, and voluntarily presses on, until nature is 

 exhausted, and he falls and dies ; but murh often- 

 er, the poor animal has, intelligibly enough hinted 

 his distress; unwilling to give in, yet painfully 

 and faulteringly holding on. The merciless rider 

 rather than give up one hour's enjoyment, tortures 

 him with whip and spur, until he drops and ex- 

 [lires. 



Although the hunter may be unwilling to re- 

 linquish the chase, he who ' is merciful to his 

 beast' will soon recognise the symptoms of exces- 

 sive and dangerous distress. To the drooping 

 pace nnd staggering gait, and heavy flank, nnd 

 heavy bearing on hand, will be added a very pe- 

 culiar noise. The inexperienced person will fan- 

 cy it to be the beating of the heart ; but that has 

 almost ceaseil to beat, and the lungs are becoming 

 gorgeil with blood. It is the convulsive motion of 

 the muscles of the belly, called into violent action 

 to assist in the now laborious office of breathing. 

 The man who proceeds a single mile nfter this 

 ought to suflor the punishment he is inflicting.* 



Let the rider instantly dismount. If he has n 

 lancet, nnd skill to use it, let him take away five 



' We should almost rejoice if the abused quadruped, 

 cruelly urged beyond his powers, were to inflict on his 

 rider the punishment which a Spanish ruffian received, 

 when mercilessly torturing, in a similar way, a poor In- 

 dian slave, who was carrying him on his back over the 

 mountains. It is thus related by Ciptain Cochrane, 

 (Colombia ii. Il'i?.) — ' Shortly after p.i.ssing this stream, 

 wo arrived at an abrupt precipice, which went perpen- 

 dicularly down about fiticcn hundred feet, to a moun- 

 tain torrent below. There Lieutenant Ortegas narrated 

 to mo the fcdlowing anecdote of ibe cruelty and punish- 

 ment of a Snanish Officer : — This inhuman wretch, h.iv- 

 ing fastened on an immense pair of mule spurs, wasin- 

 ccssantly darting the rowols into the baro flesh of the 

 tortured sillero, who in vain rernonstr.ited with his per- 

 secutor, nnd assured him he could not quicken his pare. 

 The officer only plied his spurs the more, in proportion 

 to tlio mnriiiuis of the sillero. At last, the man, roused 

 to tho highest pitch of infuriated cxcitcm»nt and re- 

 sentment, from the relentless attacks of llio officer, on 

 reaching this place jerked him from his chair into the 

 immense (lenlhs of tho torrent below, whor* he was kill- 

 ed, and his liody could not be recovered Tho sillaro 

 dashed oil' iit full s|>(.>i-d,. escaped into the mountain, 

 and was aovcr after heard of 



or bix quarts of blood ; or if he bus no lancet let 

 him cut the burs with his pocket knitc as deeply 

 as he can. Th : lungs mny be thus relieved, and 

 the horse mny he able to crawl home. Then, or 

 before if possible, let some powerful cordial be 

 odiiiiiiistered. Cordials are, gen(i(ullv speakini', 

 the disgrace and bane of the stable ; but here, and 

 almost here alone, they are truly valuable. They 

 may rouse the exhausted powers of nature ; ilicy 

 ■nay prevent what the medical man would rail the 

 reaction of inflammation ; nllhough they are the 

 veriest poison when inflammution has commenced. 



A favorite hunter fell after a long burst, nnd 

 lay stretched out, convulsed, and apparently dy- 

 ing. His master procured a bottle of good slierrv 

 from the house of a neighboring friend, and pour- 

 ed it down the animal's throat. The horse im- 

 mediately began to revive; soon after got up; 

 walked home, and gradually recovered. The 

 sportsman may not always he able to get this, but 

 he may obtain u cordial-ball from the nearest far- 

 rier, or he may beg a little ginger from some good 

 house wife, and mix it with warm ale, or may give 

 the ale alone, or strengthened with u little rum or 

 gin. When he gets home, or if he stop at the 

 first stable he finds, let the horse be put into the 

 rooUst place, and then well clothed and diligently 

 riilihod about the legs and belly. The practice of 

 piiltiiig the aiiimul, tliire distressed, into ' a com- 

 fortable warm stable,' and excluding every 

 breath of air, has destroyed many valuable horses. 



We are now describing the very earliest treat- 

 ment to be adopteil, and before it may be possible 

 to rail in an experienced practitioner. This stimu- 

 lating ;)lan would be fatal twelve hours afterwards. 

 It will however, be the wisest course to commit the 

 aninial,the fii°!>t moment it is prarticable, to the care 

 of the veterinary surgeon, if such there be in the 

 neighborhood, in whom confidence can be pla- 

 ced. 



The labors and the pleasures of the. hunting 

 season being passed, the farmer makes little or no 

 difference in the management of his untrained 

 horse ; but the wealthier sportsman is somewhat 

 at a loss what to do with his. It used to be thought 

 that when the animal had so long contributed, 

 sometimes voluntarily, and sometimes with a little 

 compulsion, to the enjoyment of his owner, he 

 ought, for a few mouths, to he perniilled to seek his 

 own amusement, in his own way ; and he was 

 turned out for a summer's run nt grass. Fashion, 

 which governs everything, and now and then 

 most cruelly and abiirdly, has exercised her ty- 

 ranny over this poor quailn.ped. His field where 

 he could wander and gambol as he liked, is chang- 

 ed to a loose box ; and the liberty in which be so 

 evidently exulted, to an hour's walking exer- 

 cise daily. He is allowed vetches, or grass 

 ocrosioi ally, but from his box he stirs not, except 

 for bis dull morning's round, until he istakeit into 

 training for the next winter's business. 



In lliks, however, as in most other things, there 

 is n medium. There are few horses who have 

 not matrrially suf!'ercd in their legs, ond feet, be- 

 fore the close of the hunting season. There is 

 nothing so refreshing to their feet as the damp 

 roolnrss of the grass into which they are 

 turned in May ; and nothiiig so rulculnieil lo 

 remove every rnlargrmeni and sprain, as the gen- 

 tle exerrise which the aiiimni voluntarily takes 

 while liLs legs are exposed lo the cooling process 

 of evaporation, which is taking place from the 

 hcrbirgc ho trends. The e\pcrunco of ogc» 

 lias shewn, that it is superior to all tho cnibrocn- 



