RIDING RECOLLECTIONS 



friends, " has the pluck of the devil ! " B, to use 

 a favourite expression of the saddle-room, "has a 

 good nerve." Both are bound to come to grief 

 over some forbidding rails at a corner, the only 

 way out, In the line hounds are running, and 

 neither has any more idea of declining than had 

 poor Lord Strathmore on a similar occasion when 

 Jem Mason halloaed to him, " Eternal misery on 

 this side, my lord, and certain death on the 

 other ! " So they harden their hearts, sit down in 

 their saddles, and this is what happens : — 



A's horse, injudiciously sent at the obstacle, 

 because it is awkward, a turn too fast, slips in 

 taking off, and strikes the top rail, which neither 

 bends nor breaks, just below Its knees. A flurried 

 snatch at the bridle pulls its head In the air, and 

 throws the animal skilfully to the ground at the 

 moment it most requires perfect freedom for a 

 desperate effort to keep on Its legs. Rider and 

 horse roll over in an " Imperial crowner," and rise 

 to their feet looking wildly about them, totally 

 disconnected, and five or six yards apart. 



This is not encouraging for B, who Is obliged 

 to follow, inasmuch as the place only offers room 

 for one at a time, but as soon as his leader is out 

 of the way, he comes steadily and quietly at the 

 leap. His horse, too, slips in the tracks of its 

 fallen comrade, but as It Is going in a more 

 collected form, it contrives to get Its fore legs 



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