BREEDING 33 



cycles, and it is not in the power of mortal 

 man to command success where the 

 element of chance comes in. Some men 

 apparently cannot do wrong for years in 

 anything they undertake, and they are 

 apt to arrogate to themselves every turn 

 in fortune's wheel as the outcome of their 

 own cleverness. When disaster ultimately 

 overtakes such as these (as it usually 

 does, sooner or later), they generally howl 

 like whimpering curs. 



The luckiest small breeder I wot of 

 is my friend John C. Hill, of Willough- 

 ton, who was a neighbouring farmer 

 of mine at one time. He generally 

 kept a hunt-chaser years ago that could 

 win a race at the local meetings, 

 and rode himself An extraordinary 

 good man to hounds he was, especially 

 on certain days. He is a man of 

 few words, but when you saw him 



D 



