I do not think it necessary here to enter into any foreign matter, such as the nature and economy of the establishment with which the field may be taken with reference to the country hunted, or the number of days weekly to be devoted to its business. We will suppose our young Nimrod has completed all such arrangements in a convenient fashion, and proceed to the res gestæ for which he has made preparation. In this hard-riding era, it is regarded as a dashing style of going to cover, by your aspiring tyro, to approach it as the crow would fly. If he must go thither across country, let him, at all events, avoid passing through, or riding too near any of the covers likely to be drawn during the day. If they hold a good fox, it is sure notice for him to quit, for he is ever on the qui vive. The result is, should the hounds be thrown in, they come upon a scent some hours old—crawl upon it over probably the cream of the country, never come on terms with him; and a capital day’s sport is lost to a whole field by a selfish half-hour’s lark. Arrived at the place of meeting, he should not address himself to the master, if he hunt his own hounds; or, in the other case, to the huntsman, notwithstanding he may be on familiar terms with them, beyond the mere exchange of a passing civility. Even then, a man, bent upon showing a good day’s sport, has his mind sufficiently engaged on the business before him. He is consulting temporary causes, by which to be directed as to the particular cover to begin with, and how it is to be drawn. The point of wind, the nature of the day, the weather of the preceding week,—all must be weighed, and brought to assist his judgment. A fox well found is always the most likely to be well accounted for.
But if conversation with the master or huntsman be inconvenient before hounds are thrown off, afterwards it becomes a positive impertinence. It is no excuse for doing so that they are not actually engaged at the moment. A huntsman, having drawn without a find, is probably waiting for some of his hounds; at the same time he is debating with himself what cover he shall next try, and how to get to it, as the wind may affect the best lying in it for his fox. He has also observed how his hounds have behaved, and has orders to give to a whip as to the conduct of some one prone to riot; or that a particular corner of the cover about being drawn shall be carefully watched. In short, success or failure are dependent on his management; and how can he deliberate if he is to stand a general catechism?
If it be a large cover, keep within hearing of the hounds and huntsman. This can only be effected by being down wind, and should be done without any reference to the distance round, which it may impose. Of course, it is not intended that a man should take any thing he can avoid out of his horse by galloping round a cover, but let him keep on steadily opposite the hounds, taking heed that he does not get so far forward as to endanger heading back the fox, and so spoiling his own and his neighbours’ sport. This I only recommend where covers are very large, and even then it may not be the best system. In all cases where it is practicable, I never throw a chance away by losing sight of hounds. I remember, some years ago, meeting Sir Richard Puleston at Cresford village, whence we trotted to a wood that skirts the high road to Chester. As we jogged forward, a friend overtook me, accosting me with, “You need not hurry yourself, for they’ll find nothing where they’re going: it has been beaten within an hour by a party of coursers, who have left nothing alive on four legs within it, you may rely.” In ten minutes, the pack and field were streaming, best pace, after a fox found in that same coppice, away for Shavington, over a country like the cream of Leicestershire or Northampton.
In fox-hunting, depend solely upon yourself, and keep with the pack. Even in going from cover to cover, be with them. Circumstances frequently arise which induce a huntsman to abandon trying a place upon which he may have previously fixed; and how often has a fox jumped out of a hedge-row in the centre of a pack trotting industriously away to look for a chance probably half a dozen miles off! In windy weather, when hounds are in cover, unless you draw it with them, it is two to one you never get away at all, and ten to one against a good start. I have had some experience of horses in my day, and have ever found, that, of all ways of beating them, the surest is that of trying to catch hounds. Laying aside the excitement and energy produced by the music, alongside of which they go sailing away in wild delight, it must be remembered that the pace of fox-hounds with a scent is equal to the best, if not superior, that any first-class hunter possesses. What sort of a nag then is it, that you can expect to catch them with ten minutes’ law? In calm weather, also, the danger of losing sight of hounds is by no means to be disregarded. There are some days (those which invariably carry the best scent) when hounds will find, and fly away like magic, not one in the pack attempting to throw tongue. Here, if the cover be large, unless you have them in your eye, the odds are you never get away; and see what you lose—the excellence of the scent has stopped the cry: the faster hounds go, the less they say about it.
When in a large cover, with hounds unavoidably out of sight, depend upon your ear much rather than upon the movements of others. You will constantly find men riding straight on end, merely because the hounds were running so when they entered, while very probably the fox has turned short, and is already away, with the pack at his brush, in an opposite direction. With a little patience and attention, your ear will soon come to the knack of detecting the line of hounds in cover: it is well worth your while to take pains to acquire this art. When you have learnt it, you will speedily find out the advantage it will confer upon your horse, and yourself too. It is by no means easy to lay down rules for that which so mainly depends upon circumstances; but it may be convenient to offer a few examples, upon which you may found a system for general application. Suppose, for instance, you have had a burst with your fox, and he has reached a large cover, in which there are strong earths, or beyond which lies a country too open for a blown fox to set his head for. If the earths are open, in he goes, and there is an end of him; if stopped, he turns, or leans to the right or left. During this time, brief as it maybe, you have eased your horse; he gets his wind (a minute, in many cases, will put him right after a very quick thing), and you are fresh, while your hard rider has been going best pace beyond the hounds, and comes toiling after you in vain. These points of practice, however, require good judgment, and great promptness of action. You must know well how to distinguish between a cry that grows faint and fainter, as a failing scent leads to a final check, and one that, from a crash, at once becomes almost wholly lost, as the pack flies to their fox with a view, or a scent breast-high.
You will, no doubt, at the commencement of your career, hear a great deal about the influence the wind has upon the line of chase. Do not take all such theory for gospel. I have tried my hand at a few systems of the kind, but only found one that admitted general adoption. When a fox, on being found, takes up wind at first, do not ride, though the pace be first-rate, so as to take much out of your horse. Foxes constantly, after going a mile or so up wind, turn and head back. This will let you in with a good start, and a fresh nag; and even should the chase hold on up wind, you run little risk of being thrown out, as you will have the cry to guide you, and the puff in, to enable you to get to them when the first brush is over.
One good effect of the hard riding of modern days is, that hounds are much less meddled with by strangers than they used to be when first I remember fox-hunting. Indeed, I am not sure that too much etiquette does not now exist upon that point. The total disappearance of the thong to the hunting-whip seems like carrying a good thing rather too far. A fox breaks probably under your horse’s nose: out comes the pack, none of the servants are at hand, and they run a field or two from the cover before any one stops them, or their own mettle allows them to turn: one crack of your whip would have saved all that. One thing you can do without your thong, but you should be very careful how you do it. I allude to hallooing a fox away. Never attempt to lift up your voice till he is evidently bent on going, and then give him at least a field’s law, or the odds are, back he goes, perhaps into the hounds’ mouths. When he is gone, then clap your hand behind your ear, and give the “Tally-ho—away!” to the best of the lungs that are in you. Should he merely show for a moment outside, and then pop in again, give a “Tally-ho—back!” that it maybe known where he was seen, as well as that he is not away. Another service in this latter halloo is, that all the points where it is likely he will try to break will be left clear for him. If a fox is seen crossing a ride or path, in cover, in front of you, pull up; and if hounds are at check, tally him, as it will serve as a guide to the huntsman.
In drawing a cover you may give this signal, should any fox cross you, but if you have run him in, be awake not to tally any but the hunted one, or you will have few thanks for your trouble. A little experience will easily teach you the difference between one just unkennelled and that which has stood any time before hounds. Not only will the former be sleek and unstained, but the method of going be very dissimilar. A fresh fox bounds off, throwing his hind legs clear from him, and his whole frame, from the tip of his nose to that of his brush, as straight as an arrow; if hunted, and at all blown or beaten, his action is laboured, like that of a rocking-horse, his back is curved, his brush drooping, and the ears thrown back, all the fire for which when found his eye is so remarkable, quenched, and exchanged for an air of cunning and subdued resolution. I am far from any design of counselling you to interfere with the business of a pack of fox-hounds that you may be either in the habit of hunting with, or one that you may merely meet by accident occasionally. Still there are instances in which to withhold all assistance would be to put the chance of sport in jeopardy, and in which the true lover of the chase ought to act first and think afterwards. Should any casualty, for example, so find you that, with hounds at fault, you catch a halloo that the huntsman does not or cannot hear, contrive so to place yourself between the halloo and the hounds that you may be heard by huntsman or pack, and so lead them on the line that the halloo proceeds from. I repeat, however, that these and similar aids must be offered with due discretion. The halloo may be a false one—true, but had you gone to make inquiries, you, too, would have been out of hearing—the points of fox-hunting require temporary and local adaptation, and a headpiece to direct all. Mere physical endowments will never make an accomplished fox-hunter—combined with judgment they are very excellent subsidiaries: for him who would shine in the chase
“Orandum est, ut sit mens sana in corpore sano.”
In riding to hounds it will essentially serve you if you bear in mind what ninety-nine out of a hundred seem never to give a thought to, namely, that the pack only acts pro tanto upon the line of country which a fox is likely to take. Independent of the point which it is assumed he will make for, he has a hundred other things to avoid, as well as the enemies baying on his trail. He settles his point, but he must also get to it unseen. Unless beaten and all but run into, he will give a wide berth to any thing like the habitation of man as well as man himself. Thus, by keeping your eye well before you, there is a chance that the turn hounds will take may be so far anticipated, that you avoid riding outside of their circle. It has been well said that when hounds are running, a man ought to consider what, under the circumstances in which things happen to be, be would do were he the fox. I cannot offer you better counsel. By adopting such a principle you will be enabled to foresee a check should you detect any thing in the line that the chase is taking, however far ahead—and if you have a knowledge of the country, you will calculate such chances almost to a certainty. In a district with which you are acquainted, the line a fox takes when found, will enable you to judge whether he has been before hunted, and if he has, the odds are he runs the same again. Even in cover you may fairly assume that he is accustomed to be stirred by the ring he takes, the points he tries, the gaps he uses in the fences, and similar observations, which should be the business on which you are intent from the moment the hounds are thrown in.