J. 



SPORTING REMINISCENCES 



CHAPTER I 

 VERY EARLY HUNTING DAYS 



I THINK I should like this book to consist 

 of about a dozen words and then a toast. 

 Chapter I — Fox hunting with all the honours. 

 Chapter the last, a toast — Fox hunting ; but 

 perhaps my funds for fox hunting next year 

 might be curtailed if I simply sent that to my 

 kindly publishers. 



I cannot remember how old I was — probably 

 about three, if one can recall oneself at that age, 

 when I was first lifted on a horse in one of the 

 stables at home — but I remember it quite well. 

 My joy in the life I felt under me, my mischievous 

 little heels drumming at a big sleek side ; my fury 

 because they would not let me ride out of the box. 

 My mother, a very fine rider herself, taught me to 

 ride (sideways) without a saddle. We were allowed 

 a girth to hold on to and very long hair, because 

 my stud consisted of an ass called Donna Inez, and 

 a milk pony ; but my mother believed in balance. 

 I could gallop and trot, and in the end even jump 



