R EC RE A TION. 



5i 



Here they come, a lady in the lead ; 

 then, close behind, two or three men in 

 a bunch ; then the whole mass jumbled 

 together, tailing out, at the end, with a 

 few belated ones. The lady who leads 

 is finely mounted on a tall American 

 horse (most of the horses here are 

 the tough little Jamaican ponies, 

 thirteen to fifteen hands), and takes 

 the water jump well, her horse's hind 

 legs slipping just a little in the mud of 

 the bank 011 landing, but he recovers 

 well, not losing his stride or lead, and 

 on she gallops. Others follow her 

 close, but now one man comes to grief 

 and is thrown ; another lands on top of 

 him, and meets the same fate ; and still 

 another, until there seems an inextrica- 

 ble tangle all about that narrow crossing, 

 and meanwhile the great mass of riders 

 is bearing headlong down on them. 



Some dismount quickly and lead their 

 horses round (thereby losing all chance 

 ot the rosette); some stick on, but 

 scramble down and up, instead of 

 jumping ; while others go over in good 

 style, having a clearer path now that 

 the dismounted riders and their steeds 

 are out of the way. One rider, how- 

 ever, is so badly hurt by his fall that he 

 has to be carried away, and is seen no 

 more. His horse continues to follow 

 the chase for some distance, taking the 

 fences side by side with the others ; 

 but at last a colored groom manages to 

 catch him, and leads him away. 



The hunt is now widely scattered 

 over the plain, some streaming along, 

 taking their jumps in their stride, in 

 the most workmanlike manner ; others 

 refusing them, and being turned and 

 brought up at them again and again, 

 until they end by going either over or 

 through in some form — good or bad. 

 The lady who led has now lost her 

 place in this manner ; but after re- 

 peated efforts she has forced her mount 

 to take a stiff hurdle, and sweeps on, 

 passes every one, and is in the lead once 

 more ! 



Now they are passing into the wood, 

 where we lose sight of them, and, as 

 our people are well up in the front, we 

 wait no longer ; the coachman whips up 

 the horses, and after much nip-and- 

 tuck passing of other carriages (the 

 native Jamaican driving is fearful to 

 risk and wonderful to see), we leave the 

 grounds and get into the main road. 



Here, as we race along, we are 

 brought up suddenly to allow the 

 hounds to cross the road. They emerge 

 from a wild, weird path in the tropic 

 jungle on the right, where branches 

 hang so low that several men have lost 

 their hats, and one lady's hair streams 

 behind her; as she did not turn up at 

 the finish, she doubtless made for her 

 own home as quickly as she might. 

 The hunt dashes past the opening and 

 down a side road, too narrow for carri- 

 ages ; so, after waiting a moment or 

 two to be sure that no more are com- 

 ing, we hurry along and speed forward 

 to the general's pen, or country seat, 

 where the finish is to be. 



As we turn into the gate, the sight is 

 a pretty one. Broad lawns dotted with 

 huge mango trees, casting dense black 

 shadows on the turf beneath them, ex- 

 tend in front of an old Jamaican 

 house, with green-jalousied verandas ; 

 the general's flag is flying from the 

 gable of the roof ; and the whole scene 

 is backed up by the sweeping circle of 

 green hills beyond, rising steeply until 

 they merge in the distant blue moun- 

 tains, crowding their filmy peaks against 

 the sky. A large marquee covers the 

 refreshment tables, and groups of peo- 

 ple stand or sit or saunter about the 

 green lawns. The bright dresses of the 

 ladies make pretty bits of color, and the 

 booted and spurred men look properly 

 manly and sportsmanlike, as they doff 

 their caps to wipe their heated brows, 

 and talk over the "pace." Ladies, in 

 habits, are seen here and there in ani- 

 mated talk ; one, the governor's daugh- 

 ter, who w r as in the lead all along, wears 

 the rosette ; the governor himself mod- 

 estly sports the other, and deprecates 

 any compliments. Being an Irishman, 

 this sort of work must seem rather tame 

 to him. 



On the other side of the grounds, 

 carriages are drawn up under the trees, 

 rank after rank; and numbers of panting 

 and sweating horses are being scraped 

 and rubbed down by the colored grooms 

 (boys of all ages and sizes), the masters 

 standing by to see the work properly 

 done, and expediting it occasionally by 

 a judiciously forcible word or two. 



Just opposite the entrance gate is 

 placed the last hurdle ; and as we stand 

 chatting, a few belated horsemen dash 

 up, and over it. One, however, has to 



