THE BLACKSMITH 193 



pottering on the other side of the hill, picking the 

 scent over fallows or cattle-stained ground. A hunt 

 is not like a steeple-chase, where a few minutes make 

 all the difference. We have seen a man lose a shoe, 

 find a smith, get another put on, and jump in with 

 the hounds running back with their fox as he led the 

 horse out of the door. 



Some people are desperately inquisitive about a 

 horse's health, temper, appetite, and peculiarities, 

 asking no end of wise questions, and taking no end 

 of precautions, and yet we dare say it never enters the 

 head of one in a hundred to ask if he is a shoe- 

 thrower. Some, we dare say, will smile at the idea, 

 because such a blessing as a shoe-thrower has never 

 fallen to their lot. We remember some years ago 

 being in a party of foxhunters, where the productions 

 of a hunting contributor to one of the sporting 

 magazines was under discussion, and a gentleman 

 observed that he did not think the writer could be 

 a man of much experience, because he spoke of a 

 piebald hunter in the field as a curiosity, whereas, 

 said the speaker, "piebalds are quite common in 

 our country." So we are all apt to argue from what 

 we ourselves know. This gentleman lived in a 

 country where there was a famous piebald stallion, 

 but we may appeal to our readers whether a piebald 

 horse is not an unusual sight in the hunting field. 

 But this gentleman thought not, and we have the 

 same sort of idea, that shoe-throwers are not so 

 uncommon. Of course all horses will cast their shoes 

 occasionally, but there are some that make a point of 

 doing it at the very earliest opportunity. Indeed we 

 are something like the gentleman who lived in the 

 country with the piebald stallion — for a friend of ours 

 once bought a finely shaped white horse at Tattersall's, 

 perfect to look at, fast in his gallop, temperate at his 

 fences, but who invariably pulled off a fore shoe 

 before he had gone over half-a-dozen leaps — nay, we 



