I will begin with the last one first, as it was a very transient experience.
One very snowy winter we had to take recourse to a sledge to get about the roads at all, and although it is very delightful at first, when one hopes that every night will bring a nice thaw (how the frozen-out fox-hunter prays for that night), after three or four weeks' incessant frost and snow the novelty of sleighing wears off and one longs for some new excitement.
We had arrived at these extremes, my father and I, so, struck by a happy inspiration, we one day determined to "yoke" three ponies abreast in our sledge and see what would happen. We had not long to wait for the result, for no sooner were they harnessed and we leapt in, than away they all went with one accord down the avenue as hard as ever they could rattle, kicking great hard snow-balls into our faces all the way. Down the hill and across the grass like mad things. My father put the whip between his teeth and held on with all his might. I relieved him of his whip and sat tight, until we reached a big beech tree, with a sort of mound round its roots. Here the ponies disagreed as to which side they should go, but, to avoid any jealousy or ill-feeling, they settled the question by one going to the right, while the other two elected to take the left-hand side of the tree. This fairly finished our flight, for the sledge dashed up sideways against the roots and then turned over like a turtle. Of course we were both precipitated on to the road and were dragged along some little way by the rugs. Fortunately there was a gate which happened to be shut a little further on, and this ended our troubles by stopping the ponies altogether, and there they all stood with their heads craning over the fence, while we picked ourselves up and disentangled ourselves from the débris. Luckily the sledge being so very near the ground we were not hurt, and really, being dragged along by the rugs was rather a pleasant sensation. Though it is a good thing to remember, when one is being run away with, under ordinary circumstances in a carriage, to undo the rugs and keep your legs clear, in case of accidents.
How often have rugs and petticoats caused one to fall headlong in getting in and out of "machines" (as our Scotch people say). Never shall I forget one Sunday morning, on our arrival at the church door, when I proceeded (in all the glory of my Sunday-go-to-meeting apparel) to climb down from the dog-cart, which was pretty high and fitted out with the most inhuman arrangements of steps. I tripped jauntily off the first step towards the second when I became aware that my body was extended on the cold, cold ground, and my head was resting confidingly between the horses two hind feet. What had happened? Oh, only my frock had remained swathed round the top step, that was all. Mercifully the horse was tame, and made no objection to my unexpected arrival among his hind legs. I had to crawl out from under the cart, covered with mud and speechless with fury. Two broken knees, and two scratched palms, gloves destroyed beyond all hope, and my hat jobbed over one eye, everybody in fits of laughter, of course, especially my own family. Why is it, I wonder, that one's own relations always display such extreme lack of good taste on such occasions? I must say I arose from that puddle in anything but a Christian-like and Sabbatical frame of mind.
I fared better, however, than another young friend of mine, who, in dismounting out of the very same cart, turned a catherine wheel and alighted on the road with a broken arm.
Be cautious, therefore, and always scramble out of a cart or carriage backwards, and, if the step be high, see that your dress descends with you and does not remain at the top.
One of the tandem drives I mentioned happened some two years ago, when my sister and I were staying with some friends about sixteen miles from home. We had been out cub-hunting all morning, found an old fox, and had a capital run, which landed us quite close to our own front door just in time for luncheon. This, of course, we could not resist, so we put our horses in and to our joy discovered a dog-cart had arrived—sent by our kind hostess to convey us back to her house, while the groom led our horses home. Having sent them off under his charge we proceeded to put the harness horse into his dog-cart, and were just about to start when a telegram arrived from my father (who was also away from home), ordering our groom to take a horse over to K—— for him to hunt next day.
As "K" happened to be the very place we were starting for, we determined to take his horse over ourselves. But how? that was the question.
We did not quite like the idea of tying him on behind, for well we knew he would be certain to tumble over something during the journey and contrive to break his knees.
Why not tie him on in front we both exclaimed, with that "one great mind which jumps."