NERVE 125 



three seasons, taking croppers as all in the day's 

 work, and then all at once given up hunting 

 altogether because his nerve has gone. He has, 

 perhaps, tried to "go" for a season, enduring 

 unknown tortures in the attempt, and then he 

 has given up altogether. He has never joined 

 the skirting brigade, not, perhaps, as some would 

 suggest, because he was too proud to do so after 

 having once been a first-flight man, but because he 

 did not care sufficiently for hunting. 



A curious instance of loss of nerve occurs to 

 my memory, and doubtless some of my readers 

 may know of similar ones. A man, a very fine 

 horseman, gave up really riding to hounds long 

 before he gave up riding steeplechases. One 

 would naturally think that the latter was the more 

 dangerous pursuit of the two, as indeed it is ; but 

 the man I have in my mind's eye rode well 

 between the flags long after he had developed 

 one of the keenest eyes for a gap of any man I 

 ever knew. 



Professional jockeys, whether on the flat or 

 between the flags, are rarely hard men to hounds, 

 though I have known some notable exceptions — 

 Custance, to wit, R. W. Colling, and Harry Luke 

 amongst flat-race riders, and Knox amongst cross- 

 country jockeys. But this must not be set down 

 to a lack of nerve altogether. In some instances 

 it may be due to this cause, but the principal 

 reason of their not riding hard is of a very differ- 

 ent nature. A jockey's time in his profession is 

 naturally a very short one. He has to work hard 

 to keep at a riding weight, and he knows that he 

 must make the most of his time. So, of course, a 

 bad hunting accident, or even a trivial fall such 



