70 UNASKED ADVICE. 



bit ; and there is no bit wliicli will make a muff master 

 of a real '■'' handful/^ Horses tliat kick at others, or at 

 hounds, cannot be called ^^ handfuls ; ^^ they do not 

 endanger or trouble (very much) the rider. Kicking 

 at other horses is quite incurable, and a quiet horse 

 may be taught the art in one lesson ; kicking at hounds 

 is another thing, and may be cured in almost, if not 

 quite, all cases by patience and time. Time is a grand 

 thing — no man should ever be in a hurry with a horse 

 unless he be riding him at water : then, ingenuous 

 youth, blaze away ; keep him going ; squeeze him the 

 last three strides ; remember that Chandler jumped 

 39 feet, and that your horse, if he tries, can very likely 

 jump 30 ! Don^t be alarmed if you can help it, as the 

 best actor cannot conceal the unworthy sensation from 

 his steed; and when landed safely, and you hear your 

 nearest and dearest " go flop," don^t chuckle too soon — 

 not, in fact, before you are over the next fence; for 

 though your horse cleared the brook and galloped on, 

 he may have ricked his back. After all, is anxiety a 

 pleasurable sensation ? and what pursuit produces it 

 more freely than fox-hunting ? 



