And here suffer me to advise you, if you should ever chance to be left without a leader, do not fall into the mistake of following the others, for my experience of hunting is that nine-tenths of those out do not know where they are going, nor where fox or hounds have gone before them. Cut out a line for yourself, and follow the pack. A pilot is, of course, a great acquisition, if he be a good one, but throughout some of my best runs I have performed the office for myself, and have succeeded in being in at the death. But then I am not a beginner, and I am surmising that you are. Keep about six yards behind your leader; follow him unswervingly, and jump after him, but not on him. Always wait till he is well out of the way before you take the fence in his wake. Your horse will jump more readily having the example of his before him, but I cannot too well impress upon you the necessity of allowing him to get well over before you attempt to follow. One of the ugliest falls I ever got in my life was through riding too close upon my leader. The run was a very hot one, and only four of us were going at the time. None, in fact, but those who had first-rate horses had been able to live through it. We came to a wide branch of a river, swollen by recent rains. My pilot, going a rare pace, jumped it safely; I came too fast upon him. My horse's nose struck his animal's quarters, which, of course, threw my gallant little mount off his balance, and prevented his landing. He staggered and fell back, and we both got a drowning! I was dragged up with a boat-hook, the horse swam on until he found a place to scramble up the bank, and then galloped off over the country. I recollect standing dismally by that river, my pilot and two wreckers scraping the mud from me, and wringing my drenched garments, whilst two or three more were scouring the adjacent lands in search of my truant steed. When, at length, he was caught, I had eleven miles to ride to the place at which I had left my trap, and was obliged on arriving to change every atom of my clothing, and wash off the superabundant mud in a horse-bucket, kindly lent for the occasion.
The fall involved the loss of the run, the loss of a habit, the loss of many odd shillings to wreckers, the loss of my temper, a wound from the boat-hook, and a heavy cold, the result of immersion on a perishing winter day. All these disasters were the punishments consequent upon my impetuosity in coming too close upon my leader; therefore, having thus myself suffered, I warn you, from woful experience, never to tread upon the horse jumping in advance of you. Allowing, even, that you do not cannon against him, there is another casualty which may not improbably occur. Supposing that he falls and throws his rider, your horse may in alighting just chance to plant a foot upon the empty saddle of the prostrate animal, the slippery nature of which throws him off his balance, and you and he roll upon the earth together—perhaps receiving a kick from your pilot's struggling mount. From this species of accident many evils have from time to time arisen, and therefore I dutifully endeavour to put you well upon your guard. I would also again remind you that if you really mean to ride an intricate country, you should never under any circumstances neglect to bring a change of clothing, for you may at any moment be dyked, and to remain in wet garments is highly dangerous,—not so long as you are exercising, but during the journey to your home. It is not in the saddle, but in vehicles and railway carriages that colds are contracted and the seeds of disease are sown. It may not be out of place here to offer you a piece of wholesome advice. Should you at any time have the ill-fortune to be riding a kicking horse in the midst of a crowd, always put back your hand when the cavalcade pauses, to warn those behind not to come too close to the heels of your unquiet steed. By so doing you may save an accident, and may, moreover, guard yourself from more than one anathema. I once saw the horse of a fiery old General kicked by the mount of a young nobleman, who thought it not worth his while to offer an apology. "See here, young man," said the irate officer, riding up to the offender's side, "whenever you come out to hunt on brutes like that you should paste a danger-card upon your back, and not run the risk of breaking valuable bones. I have said my say," he added, "and now you may go to the devil!"
A few hints next as to jumping.
If, in the course of a run, you meet with stone walls, do not ride too fast at them. Always steady your horse at such obstacles, and follow my oft-repeated advice of leaving him abundant head-room. If you have to cross a river or very wide ditch, come fast at it, in order that the impetus may swing you safely over; few horses can cross a wide jump without having what is called a "run at it." Never expect your animal to take such obstacles at a stand, or under the disadvantages consequent upon coming at them at a slow pace. Should the leap be a river or wide water-jump, suffer your horse to stretch forward his head and neck when coming up to it. If you fail to do so, you will most probably go in, for an animal who accomplishes his work requires his liberty as an absolute necessity, and, if denied it, will teach you, at the cost of a good wetting, to treat him next time with greater consideration. You will frequently see men ride pretty boldly up to some yawning chasm or ugly bullfinch—stop and look at it, hesitate an instant, and then, by cruel spurring, urge an exhausted animal to take it at a stand. This is truly bad horsemanship, and leads to many direful results. A good rider will, on perceiving that the obstacle is a formidable one, turn his horse round, take him some little distance from it, and then, again turning, come fast at it—quick gallop, hands down, horse's head held straight and well in hand, but without any pulling or nervous reining in. Such a one will be pretty sure to get safely over.
Should your horse, in jumping a fence, land badly, and slip his hind legs into a gripe or ditch, do not wait more than an instant to see if he can recover himself; you will know in that time whether he will be likely to do so. The best advice I can give you is to kick your foot free of the stirrup and jump off before he goes back. You will thus keep your own skin dry; and, if you have been fortunate enough to retain a light hold of the rein, you can rescue your horse without much difficulty; for an animal, when immersed, makes such intelligent efforts to release himself, that a very trifling assistance upon your part will enable him to struggle safely to your side, when you can remount him and try your chances of again picking up the hounds. Be cautious, however, in pulling him up, that you do so over smooth ground. I had a valuable young horse badly staked last season through being dragged up over a clump of brushwood after a fall into the Lara river.
Should your steed peck on landing over a fence you will be pretty certain to come over his head, for this is an ugly accident, and one very likely to occur over recently-scoured drains. You may, however, save both yourself and him, if you are smart in using your hands in assisting him to recover his lost equilibrium.
In the event of your horse jumping short with you, either from having taken off too soon or from any other cause, and falling upon you into a gripe, you may (when you gain a little experience) be able to stick to him without leaving the saddle. The first effort a fallen animal makes is to try to get up; therefore, if you are not quite thrown, hold on to his mane, and as he struggles to right himself make your effort to regain your seat. Be guided, however, in doing this by observing with a quick glance whether there are thorns or brambles overgrowing the place, for if there are, and your horse on recovering himself strides onward in the ditch, seeking a place at which he may get out, your face will undoubtedly suffer. This sort of thing once occurred to me in the course of a day's hunting. I held on to my animal when he fell, and regained my seat without very much difficulty, but before I could recover my hold of the bridle he had rushed forward, and my face was terribly punished by the overhanging brambles.
Be very careful, in this matter of holding on to a fallen animal, not to confound the mane with the rein. By clinging to the former you assist yourself without in the smallest degree impeding the movements of your horse; by clinging to the latter you seriously interfere with his efforts at recovery, and most probably pull him back upon you.
And this brings me to the subject of hogging horses' manes. Never, under any circumstances, allow an animal of yours to be thus maltreated. Not only is it a vile disfigurement, depriving the horse of Nature's loveliest ornament, but it also deprives the rider of a very chief means of support in case of accident. Many a bad fall have I been saved by clutching firmly at the mane, which an ignorant groom had oft implored me to sacrifice; and many a good man and true have I seen recover himself by a like action, when a hog-maned animal would undoubtedly have brought him to grief. Grooms are especially fond of this system of "hogging," and many a beauteous adjunct of Nature's forming has been ruthlessly sacrificed to their ceaseless importunities to be permitted to "smarten the baste." Tails, too, are remorselessly clocked by these gentlemen of the stable; not that they really think it an improvement, any more than they veritably admire the hogging process, but it saves them trouble, it lightens their labours, they have less combing and grooming to attend to. Tails were sent by Nature, not merely as an ornament, but to enable the animal to whisk away the flies, which in hot weather render its life a burthen. Man, the ruthless master, by a cruel process of cutting and searing, deprives his helpless slave of one of its most valued and most necessary possessions. I do not myself advocate long switch tails, which are rarely an ornament, being usually covered with mud; but I maintain that "docking" is cruel and unnecessary, keeping the hairs closely and evenly cut being quite sufficient for purposes of cleanliness, without in any way interfering with the flesh; therefore, do not reject my oft-repeated plea for "a little more tail."