AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 75 
eorrespond with those of the horse, and by keeping this 
maxim steadily in view, he will seldom be ata loss. It 
sometimes happens that a steep bank opposes the sports- 
man’s progress, which it is not possible to jump, (and 
banks indeed present very frequently, awkward jumps, 
even when jumping is practicable,) but every perfect 
hunter will make his way over such places, and the rider 
must suit himself to the motion accordingly. 
Riding to Hounds is a business where courage is regard- 
ed as an indispensable qualification ; but, although I am 
quite willing to allow to courage whatever may justly be 
its due; yet it cannot be denied that getting well over a 
country depends much more upon the judgment ; and he 
that would be a good workman, must unite the two as 
much as possible, never forgetting that the former ought 
to depend on the latter :—‘* The better part of valour is 
discretion. ”’ 
The pursuit of the fox was formerly a work of three 
or four hours ; and frequently extended to a much greater 
length of time. According to the modern system, the bu- 
siness is generally completed in about an hour ; and the fox 
is often killed, but more frequently lost, in half that time. 
The old English hunter wasa large, heavy, powerful horse, 
whose excellence consisted principally in his leaping or 
jumping; and, in fact, it may be justly observed, that he was 
very well calculated for the hounds which he had to follow; 
but, with modern hounds, he would have been run out of 
sight in a very few minutes. ‘¢ J¢ ts the pace which kills,” 
an observation common enough in the mouth of a sports- 
man ; one that merits the deepest consideration, and which 
cannot do otherwise than carry conviction to every re- 
flecting mind. If a horse be pressed, and continued but 
only for a short time at the top of his rate, he becomes so 
exhausted that he cannot clear his jumps ; and he thus en- 
dangers his rider’s neck, to say nothing of losing the 
sport; but, as far as relates to the old English hunter, as 
the slowness of the pursuit allowed him to go within him- 
self, or at his ease, so he was generally able to clear his 
leaps ; and although he might not be able to gallop half as 
fast as the modern hunter, he might perhaps be as good a 
fencer, if not better, since even cart horses have been 
known to clear enormous jumps. 
In modern hunting, however, it is indispensable that 
the horse should possess great speed, if his rider is to en- 
joy the diversion ; and as the business of the chase is so 
much more rapid than formerly, it requires more judg- 
ment in the sportsman in riding to hounds ; yet, since no 
blown horse can be trusted even at a moderate jump, the 
necessity of keeping the horse’s wind in him must appear 
so obvious as to need no further elucidation. 
That the horse is as fond of the chase as the rider is evi- 
dent, since his eye will be seen to sparkle with pleasure 
the moment he perceives the preparations for hunting. A 
horse, on his way to the place of meeting, will frequently 
manifest the pleasure he feels by a variety of antics; and 
when the hounds have been thrown into cover, and are 
trying for a fox, his impatience for the run is evinced by 
characteristic indications which are too clear and too ex- 
pressive to be misunderstood. Nor under any other cir- 
cumstances will a horse make the same desperate exer- 
tions, as in following hounds. In the latter end of the 
season of 1825, I had been hunting for a short time with 
Sir H. Mainwaring’s hounds ; and, upon my return home, 
was mounted upon a mare, which, from haying been much 
overworked, seemed scarcely able to go more than four 
or five milesan hour. I had something more than twenty 
miles to ride, and commenced my journey about nine 
o’clock in the morning. Whitley Gorse, the fixture for 
that day, for Sir H. Mainwaring’s hounds, lay in my road, 
and as I proceeded, the hounds, with their attendant hunts- 
man and whippers-in, overtook me. The mare perceived 
the approach of the hounds, before I was aware of the 
circumstance, and the first signal I reeeived was her lifting 
up behind so high and so unlooked for, that I was thrown 
upon her neck. I accompanied the hounds to the cover, 
which was within a few score yards of the road, and they 
were no sooner thrown in than my mare manifested a de- 
gree of impatience which I had not expected to experience 
in her jaded state. In a few seconds, a fox was found ;— 
he broke away in gallant style with the hounds at his brush, 
and my mare testified so strong an inclination to follow, 
that I indulged her. I was never better carried ; and after 
a brilliant thing of one hour and five minutes, I witnessed 
the death of the fox. I mention this merely to show what 
that generous creature, the horse, will perform under such 
an excitement as hunting. 
Having noticed the impatience which the horse mani- 
fests immediately prior to the run, it follows, as a necessa- 
ry consequence, that, if this impatience ke not judiciously 
restrained and his powers properly used, he must be blown 
very early in the run. The fact is, the commencement of 
the run is the most difficult part of the business—it is that 
which puts the judgment and skill of the rider to the se- 
verest test ; and the horse should be so managed as to pre- 
vent him from exhausting his strength in what may be 
called the first burst, and yet keeping him well with the 
hounds. Indeed, it appears to me that the horse goes much 
more pleasantly to himself as well as to his rider, when 
he has got what is called second wind ; and the same re- 
mark is susceptible of a more extensive application. The 
fox gets second wind, the hounds get second wind, as well 
as the horse, and the run, which up to this period might 
