Captain Riddell 



in the Conyngham Cup. There was a big field, and it was a 

 fast run race, and Red Man, who was a desperate puller and a 

 magnificent fencer, running at the " Big Double" by the Herds 

 Garden fifty miles an hour, with no idea of a steadier, cleared 

 the lot in a fly, without touching it. In those days the jump 

 was five feet high and five feet wide at the top, with a dry 

 ditch on each side, and — we have it on the authority of his 

 rider — the horse jumped it with apparently no great effort to 

 himself. 



A wonderful feat indeed, and one not likely to be emulated, 

 for the very good reason that the obstacle has since been 

 much reduced in size. 



After the sixties, owing to his parliamentary duties, 

 Mr. Fitzwilliam practically abandoned the saddle, not without 

 a pang, you may be sure. Needless to say, however, that 

 this act of self-denial did not apply to other sports of the 

 field. 



Fitzwilliam and fox-hunting will always be coupled together, 

 and it is superfluous to add that since his retirement from 

 riding between the flags, there is no more staunch adherent 

 of the sport so aptly described by the immortal Jorrocks as 

 possessing all the elements of war, without the danger, than 

 the subject of this chapter. 



CAPTAIN RIDDELL 



If the reader were to refer to the back numbers of the 

 Field, commencing in the early sixties of the last century, and 

 turned to the hunting reports, it would be odd if, reading the 



195 



