THE HORSE. 169 



with hounds.' His commendation of the steeplechaser as hunter 

 is one we fancy not generally shared, but, as usual, he gives 

 reasons for his taste worth considering : 



A good steeplechaser, properly sobered and brought into his 

 bridle, is one of the pleasantest hunters a man can ride, particularly 

 in a flying country. He is sure to be able to make haste in all sorts 

 of ground, while the smooth easy stride that wins between the flags 

 is invaluable through dirt. He does not lose his head and turn 

 foolish, as do many good useful hunters when bustled along for a 

 mile or two at something like racing pace. Very quick over his 

 fences, his style of jumping is no less conducive to safety than 

 despatch, while his courage is sure to be undeniable, because the 

 slightest tendency to refuse would have disqualified him for success 

 in his late profession, wherein also he must necessarily have learnt 

 to be a free and brilliant water jumper. 



Such a nag as this would certainly be a pleasant one to 

 ride ; and no doubt a horse good enough to win the Liverpool 

 under eleven stone or more would be both a brilliant and a 

 safe mount across Leicestershire. But all steeplechasers are 

 not good enough to win that race under such a weight; indeed, 

 they seem to get scarcer every year ; and all hounds do not run 

 across Leicestershire. Much as we respect Whyte-Melville's 

 opinion on all matters connected with horseflesh, we have 

 to doubt whether a man would be wise to look for a hunter in 

 a steeplechasing stable now-a-days. He might get hold of a 

 pearl of course, but the chances are, to say the least, very 

 doubtful. Even with a horse taken out of a racing stable 

 Whyte-Melville owns immense pains must be taken to make 

 him really fit for hounds. He warns you 'not to feel dis- 

 appointed that he seems to require more time and tuition 

 than his lower-born cousins.' * It is not that he has less 

 valour but more discretion ! In the monotonous progress of 

 training he has acquired, with other tiresome tricks, the habit 

 of doing as little as he can, in the different paces, walk, canter, 

 and gallop, of which he has become so weary.' And he tells 

 a story of the difficulty that famous horseman, Sir Charles 



