As a steady thing, the children found rabbits and guinea pigs the most satisfactory pets. The guinea pigs usually rejoiced in the names of the local or national celebrities of the moment; at one time there were five, which were named after naval heroes and friendly ecclesiastical dignitaries—an Episcopalian Bishop, a Catholic Priest, and my own Dutch Reformed Pastor—Bishop Doane, Father O’Grady, Dr. Johnson, Fighting Bob Evans, and Admiral Dewey. Father O’Grady, by the way, proved to be of the softer sex; a fact definitely established when two of his joint owners, rushing breathless into the room, announced to a mixed company, “Oh, oh, Father O’Grady has had some children!”

Of course there are no pets like horses; and horsemanship is a test of prowess. The best among vigorous out-of-door sports should be more than pastimes. Play is good for play’s sake, within moderate limits, especially if it is athletic play; and, again within moderate limits, it is good because a healthy body helps toward healthiness of mind. But if play serves only either of these ends, it does not deserve the serious consideration which rightly attaches to play which in itself fits a man to do things worth doing; and there exists no creature much more contemptible than a man past his first youth who leads a life devoted to mere sport, without thought of the serious work of life. In a free Government the average citizen should be able to do his duty in war as well as in peace; otherwise he falls short. Cavalrymen and infantrymen, who do not need special technical knowledge, are easily developed out of men who are already soldiers in the rough, that is, who, in addition to the essential qualities of manliness and character, the qualities of resolution, daring and intelligence, which go to make up the “fighting edge,” also possess physical hardihood; who can live in the open, walk long distances, ride, shoot, and endure fatigue, hardship, and exposure. But if all these traits must be painfully acquired, then it takes a long time indeed before the man can be turned into a good soldier. Now, there is little tendency to develop these traits in our highly complex, rather over-civilized, modern industrial life, and therefore the sports which produce them serve a useful purpose. Hence, when able to afford a horse, or to practise on a rifle range, one can feel that the enjoyment is warranted by what may be called considerations of national ethics.

As with everything else, so with riding; some take to it naturally, others never can become even fairly good horsemen. All the children ride, with varying skill. While young, a Shetland pony serves; the present pony, Algonquin, a calico or pinto, being as knowing and friendly as possible. His first small owner simply adored him, treating him as a twin brother, and having implicit faith in his mental powers. On one occasion, when a naval officer of whom the children were fond came to call, in full dress, Algonquin’s master, who was much impressed by the sight, led up Algonquin to enjoy it too, and was shocked by the entire indifference with which the greedy pony persisted in eating grass. One favorite polo pony, old Diamond, long after he became a pensioner served for whichever child had just graduated from the sheltie. Next in order was a little mare named Yagenka, after the heroine of one of Sienkewicz’s blood-curdling romances of mediæval Poland. When every rideable animal is impressed, all the children sometimes go out with their mother and me; looking much like the Cumberbatch family in Caldecott’s pictures.

BLEISTEIN JUMPING
From a photograph, copyright, 1902, by Clinedinst, Washington, D. C.

Of recent years I have not been able to ride to hounds; but when opportunity has offered I have kept as saddle horses one or two hunters, so that instead of riding the road I could strike off across country; the hunter scrambling handily through rough places, and jumping an occasional fence if necessary. While in Washington this is often, except for an occasional long walk down Rock Creek or along the Virginia side of the Potomac, the only exercise I can get. Among the various horses I have owned in recent years Bleistein was the one I liked best, because of his good nature and courage. He was a fair, although in no way a remarkable, jumper. One day, May 3, 1902, I took him out to Chevy Chase and had him photographed while jumping various fences and brush hurdles; the accompanying picture is from one of these photos. Another hunter, Renown, was a much higher, but an uncertain, jumper. He was a beautiful horse, and very good-tempered, but excessively timid.

We have been able to fix a rifle range at Sagamore, though only up to 200 yards. Some of the children take to shooting naturally, others can only with difficulty be made to learn the rudiments of what they regard as a tiresome business. Many friends have shot on this range. We use only sporting rifles; my own is one of the new model Government Springfields, stocked and sighted to suit myself. For American game the modern small calibre, high power, smokeless-powder rifle, of any one among several makes, is superseding the others; although for some purposes an old 45–70 or 45–90, even with black powder, is as good as any modern weapon, and for very heavy game the calibre should be larger than that of the typical modern arm, with a heavier ball and more powder. But after all, any good modern rifle is good enough; when a certain pitch of excellence in the weapon has been attained, then the determining factor in achieving success is the quality of the man behind the gun.

My eldest boy killed his first buck just before he was fourteen, and his first moose—a big bull with horns which spread 56 inches—just before he was seventeen. Both were killed in the wilderness, in the great north woods, on trips sufficiently hard to afford some test of endurance and skill. Such a hunting trip is even more than a delightful holiday, provided the work is hard as well as enjoyable; and therefore it must be taken in the wilderness. Big private preserves may serve a useful purpose if managed with such judgment and kindliness that the good will of the neighborhood is secured; but the sport in them somehow seems to have lost its savor, even though they may be large enough to give the chance of testing a man’s woodcraft no less than his marksmanship. I have but once hunted in one of them. That was in the fall of 1902, when Senator Proctor took me into the Corbin Park game preserve in New Hampshire. The Senator is not merely a good shot; he is a good hunter, with the eye, the knowledge of the game, and the ability to take advantage of cover and walk silently, which are even more important than straight powder. He took me out alone for the afternoon, and, besides the tame buffalo, he showed me one elk and over twenty deer. We were only after the wild boar, which have flourished wonderfully. Just at dusk we saw a three-year-old boar making his way toward an old deserted orchard; and creeping up, I shot him as he munched apples under one of the trees.

CHAPTER XII
IN THE LOUISIANA CANEBRAKES

In October, 1907, I spent a fortnight in the canebrakes of northern Louisiana, my hosts being Messrs. John M. Parker and John A. McIlhenny. Surgeon-General Rixey, of the United States Navy, and Dr. Alexander Lambert were with me. I was especially anxious to kill a bear in these canebrakes after the fashion of the old Southern planters, who for a century past have followed the bear with horse, hound and horn in Louisiana, Mississippi and Arkansas.