ioo The Old Surrey Fox Hounds 



him there, since he had acquired vicious propensities. 

 His jockeys could do nothing with him. 



" I liked a rough 'un in those days," Sam remarked, 

 "so I took on the big black with pleasure. He was a 

 beauty. He used to rear habitually when he was mounted, 

 so I slipped off him quickly one fine morning when he 

 was up, and pulled him over. He did not fancy that at 

 all, and soon became quiet. He turned out to be one of 

 the grandest hunters I ever rode ; he carried me well for 

 eight or nine seasons. No day was too long for him, no 

 fence too big. Towards the last, however, after I had 

 ridden him through a very severe run with a kill on the 

 hill, I got off him to take the fox, when the Master came 

 up and said that I had done for my horse. " He was all 

 right when I left him," was my reply. 



" Well, he's not all right now," rejoined the Master, 

 " because he has rolled down the hill ! " 



That story evidently lives pretty vividly in Sam's 

 memory ; he loves to talk about that game black hunter. 

 We don't get one like that every day. If the supply 

 were only more abundant the money might be found. 



" In addition to his other good qualities," resumed the 

 huntsman, " he was the best I ever rode for galloping at 

 top speed down our steep Surrey hills without the slightest 

 ' scotching ' or putting a foot wrong. He kept his hind 

 legs still, and galloped down, so to speak, with his fore 

 legs, as horses must do if they have to descend these 

 slopes at any pace. One has to keep their head straight, 

 sit still, and trust to providence." 



