Having made these preparations, you must turn your thoughts from necessaries to possible contingencies, and hold yourself in readiness for such. Procure a small, tidy valise, and in it place a complete change of warm clothing. You can dispense with fashionable and costly articles, and put in merely such things as will prove convenient in the possible event of your being either dyked, or subjected to such a wetting from above as would render it unsafe for you to proceed homewards in your riding-habit. Of course, I am now surmising that you either drive or rail to the hunt, and return the same way.
If you ride a hack to covert, or jog your hunter at an easy pace, you will not only find it impossible to carry a change of clothing, but you will not have any need of such, because nobody ever catches cold, even from wet clothes, so long as motion and circulation are kept up; but if you have a long drive homewards after a hard and exciting day, or a journey (even a short one) to perform by rail, I strongly advocate the carrying of the valise. It will not prove a source of the least trouble to you. You can leave it either in your vehicle or at the railway station, and it is an inconceivable comfort to be able to get into a dry suit when every stitch that you have on is clinging to your body, heavy with wet and mud. I advise the labelling of the valise in plain letters, if it is to be left in any waiting-room. To attend to this may prevent a good deal of possible confusion. Many ladies think it a trouble, I know, to carry such things about with them—just as men, when they go out walking, consider it “a nuisance” to carry an umbrella or an overcoat, even on the most uncertain and showery days—paying the penalty, of course, in drenched garments, rheumatism, and catarrh. The “trouble” in the first instance is very small; in the second it may be serious.
Having then made all square and ready, we have next to consider in what way you intend to proceed to covert. If by rail or vehicle, and that you happen to have friends of an obliging sort living close to the proposed meet, you may perhaps find them willing to give accommodation to your mount for the preceding night. If so it will be very pleasant, both for you and your horse, as the animal will be as fresh as a daisy to carry you—a cheery thing for both parties. You must, however, remember that you will be under a very decided compliment—one which many may not desire to incur—to the friend who shows you this favour, inasmuch as putting up a horse signifies either putting up a servant also, or sending a groom to meet the animal at the station; at all events it entails extra stable duties, and these must be considered and paid for.
Supposing that you do not send your horse anywhere the night before, see to it that he gets off betimes in the morning, and, if going by road, give your servant directions to take him to some quiet corner or laneway close to the meet, and to wait for you there until you come. I regard this as a very much better plan than having him led direct to the meet, and mounting him there in presence of an assembled crowd. Ladies who like a little bit of show generally prefer the latter way—but for true comfort, opportunity for overlooking the general turning-out of your horse, lengthening or shortening of stirrup-leathers, folding your muffling tidily away (instead of flinging it anywhere or anyhow into the vehicle), giving your groom directions where to meet you at the close of the day, and so forth, commend me to the former.
If a hunter is to be railed, let him go to the station well clothed, and send extra things along with him for coming home. Winter evenings are usually chilly, if not downright cold, and are very frequently damp as well; if, then, a heated animal, with every pore open from exercise and excitement, is called upon, unprepared, to encounter these combined atmospheric influences, coughs, catarrhs, rheumatic affections, and sometimes the more serious evils of inflamed or congested lungs, are certain to be the results.
Rise early yourself on a hunting morning; have a cold bath, if of a robust temperament—if not, tepid. Eat a moderate breakfast of white fish, cutlet, or steak, accompanied by dry toast or biscuit, and partake of very little liquid. Fill your flask with cold tea: it is more invigorating than either brandy or wine; and provide a small sandwich, or a biscuit or two, to put in the pocket of your saddle. This will be provision enough for the commissariat department.
If you have the luxury of riding a good hack to covert, and that the distance is not very far—say, from five to eight miles—you will be certain to enjoy it, and it will put you in fettle for the more serious business of the day. This again, like the bath, means if you are strong and hardy: in short, inured to long rides, and not by any means easily fatigued. If it be not so with you, it will be better to make arrangements to go by rail, or drive.
Some ladies ride their hunters quite long distances to meets, but as a rule they are not among the straight-going sort, being satisfied with seeing the first draw and the burst away over a good line of country, where the two or three preliminary fences are not such as to occasion many serious mishaps. I do not think that any lady who rides even moderately straight ought to hack her hunter for a longer distance than five or six miles of a good fair road, and the best way to take him will be at a brisk walk, alternated pretty frequently with a steady jog-trot, or a hand-gallop on the grass at the side. I do not at all object to a hunter being allowed to drink a little water before starting on his journey, although I know that very many disagree with me on the point; nor do I object to his having a few mouthfuls in the intervals of hunting; it will refresh him excessively, just as a small goblet of water would refresh you, although a large one might overload your stomach, or give you a chill.
On arriving at the meet, keep as quiet and as much in the background as you possibly can. It is better taste by far than to push forward in ever so small a degree. Do not trouble yourself with thinking about your own appearance, be it what it may; in all probability nobody will be minding you at all. If you are perfectly well turned-out, feel happy in the consciousness that you are so, but shun display; if indifferently, console yourself with the reflection that each man and woman present is occupied in admiring him or herself, and has neither time nor desire to admire you, or the reverse.
Do not expect that august personage, “the master,” to shake hands with you, even if acquainted, or to stop and talk. Salute him as he goes by, but nothing further.