82 A COVERT SIDE. 



" Coming to grief — ah ! tliero you are too mucli foi 

 me, count. Coming to grief — and what may that be, 

 I prithee?" 



" Why, you will understand, my good friend, that 

 in modern fox-hunting, we ride no longer, as they did 

 in King George the Third's day, when the man who 

 came in first at the death, it mattered not how, per- 

 haps by riding all the lanes, cutting off corners, and 

 shirking fences, by knowledge of the country, was the 

 best man, and won the honors of the day. Nous 

 avons change tout celd, now-a-days, and the best man 

 is he who lives longest, nearest to the hounds, riding 

 his own line manfully and straight, no matter for his 

 jdace at the end, though, of course, he who is best 

 from first to last, is the best of all. When you fall 

 into the second flight, when you get so thrown out, 

 either by such a false turn, or such a fall as prevents 

 your being in the same field w^ith the hounds, or if 

 your horse stands still, or dies, you are said to come 

 to grief. But some one must come to grief, remember, 

 always ; and if it do not happen till at the butt-end 

 of a severe burst, or if it be by an unavoidable mishap, 

 there is no shame in it — it may be in case of a very 

 bold, though unsuccessful leap, the reverse." 



"I see. I shall try not to come to grief, then, in 

 the first field, or at the very first fence. That, I sup- 

 pose, will save a novus homo from ridicule." 



"A novus is never ridiculed here, if he rides boldly, 

 and makes a good offer at his own line. Every one 

 here knows that riding well to fox-hounds requires a 

 great many combinations — a very bold heart, a very 

 light hand, a very firm seat, and these three are 

 nothing, unless combined with a very quick eye, a 

 very cool head, and a very clear judgment. So that 

 for every stranger who goes tolerably, ten go wretch- 

 edly at the first start ; and if one give himself no airs, 

 commit no absurdities, but bo simple, frank, and 



