does not only arise from the consideration of the horse, but so far as regards the man. If he is wanted to wait at breakfast, and confine himself the whole morning to the house, it is quite clear he cannot have anything to do with the equipage. If only wanted occasionally, then he can both drive and take charge of it. So far as driving it goes, there can be nothing objectionable in any man doing that; but I must say I have always considered it as extremely bad taste and a very poor affectation to see a man in a footman's livery carrying a tray about a drawing-room, who we know was strapping at a horse some time the same afternoon. When living in this mediocre way, superior women-servants are far preferable. The horse, or two horses, can be kept, we know, cheaper in private stables than at livery; but if you devote a man exclusively to one or even two, he will altogether cost as much as the horses; so the question merges into this: Which is preferred-keeping the carriage and horses at home, and keeping a coachman; or sending all to livery, and keeping a footman only? I should say, in a family in this position of society, the latter is by far the preferable plan. The idea that horses will not be done justice to at livery s, in a general way, a very unjust and fallacious one; for, I have o hesitation in saying that, provided you apply to a respectable person in his line, and he knows your horses are to remain with him, they have a far greater chance of being well done by than if left to the care of half the (soi-disant) coachmen in London. The carriage, harness, and horses will be properly turned out, for this simple reason-it is the master's interest they should be, in order to keep your custom, and to get that of others by your equipage being well turned out; and he saves nothing by allowing his meu to be idle. If the horses are not done justice to as regards feeding, they will show it; and he will lose them and his character. If your horses look badly from your using them unfairly, it is your fault; and for his own sake he will shortly tell you that you do so, and will not be very nice as to whether you take them away or not, for, in fact, keeping them will injure more than benefit his yard. Send for a known respectable man; agree by the quarter or half-year or year for your horses, at a price that will enable him to feed them properly as regards your demand on them as to work; put them under his charge; pay the stableman who takes care of them liberally; and your horses will have every justice: for it must be borne in mind that, though the majority of helpers in dealers' and livery yards are scamps unfit for private families, they are first-rate stablemen, and your horses will be under the eye of a man who knows how to treat them-an advantage that it is by no means certain they would derive from being overlooked by the generality of masters even, setting aside ladies. This much observation has taught me: Take a hundred horses kept in the private stables of the generality of persons, and a hundred kept in the best livery stables-more rough coats, impoverished looks, colds, coughs, cracked heels, and other sickness from bad management will be found, by three to one in the former. I should say just the same thing by a man keeping a hunter if he lives in London. Many persons do this and send their horse down the night before to meet any of the hounds within twenty miles of London. I This is done by some from a very mistaken motive of kindness to the horse; and from the same mistaken notion that they are consulting their own interest by having the horse under their own eye, and under the care of their own servant. We will look a little at this. In the first place, under such circumstances, so far as his stable treatment goes, for three days out of the four, that is, the day he goes out of town, the hunting day, and the day of returning-if sent such a distance-he is scarcely under their eye at all. Then comes the query, "Is their eye of any great advantage to him when it is over him?" and the care of their own servant is not always a guarantee that the care is of the very best sort. In fact, with the ordinary run of London grooms, I will answer for it that it is not. And supposing that it was, how can a horse, situated as he must be in London, ever be fit to go with hounds? The most proper thing that is done with him during the week, to prepare him, is his twenty miles' walk the day preceding hunting; and against this we have to set the very improper act of dragging a stiff and tired horse home the next day twenty miles along a turnpike road, in lieu of one-hour's gentle walk on turf, just to stretch his legs and conduce to recover his appetite. If he is brought home, that his owner may have him to ride in the park the intermediate days, the idea is unreasonable; probably, in fact almost to a certainty, if there was anything of a run, a horse thus treated through the week will refuse his corn at night, and quite as probably the next morning. Five hours on the road, with an empty stomach, and aching limbs, is not a very proper preparation for a show off in the park; and where is he to get a gallop to prepare him for the next hunting day, unless he is sent to some of the places stated to be for the exercise of hunters, close to town, where their feet and legs are battered to pieces in the spring and autumn, and they are smothered with mud if sent there in the winter? It is all very well to send a horse to Banstead downs in the morning, take a canter with the harriers, and trot him quietly home afterwards. The horse would be the better for the exercise twice a week, and his master too; but to expect one to be bottled up in London, and really go with fox-hounds, or the Queen's, is out of the question. I will venture to say there are more horses killed, injured, and lamed, and consequently more falls from those sent down to hunt under such circumstances, in proportion to the number out, in one season, than occur with all the determined riders in Leicestershire in half-a-dozen. And so it must ever be where horses are expected to go without their wind, stamina, and muscles being properly braced up by proper treatment. Let us look at this mode of doing the thing, and another plan; and see, setting aside being well carried, how, in point of actual money, the thing would work. I am now alluding to keeping a hunter at a hunting stable at livery. We will say a good fair horse, with average runs, will carry a man three times a fortnight-which a good wear and tear horse will do. If the distance is such as to bring you to the Queen's stag-hounds, or to any fox-hounds out of the reach of the omnibuses, your man must be out nine days a fortnight, paying for your horse, of course, sixpence a feed for oats, and the usual charge for hay; compare these expenses to what you would have to pay at a regular hunting stable, the balance would not be a fortune. At such a stable you have but the one expense, your horse is taken wherever the fixture may be; there is no blunder in mistaking places-so sure as the hounds are there, so sure is your horse. The horse has had his proper exercise, or a sweat, if wanted. If a frost sets in, without your troubling yourself about it, he gets a dose of physic; and if ordinary exercise cannot be given, artificial means are resorted to to give it. You have the advantage of a stud-groom over your horse, or horses, without keeping one. In fact, you ride a horse in condition, and equal to his task, instead of one to whom that task must be a labour of more than ordinary or necessary severity; for I consider that unnecessary that could be remedied without additional inconvenience or expense, or of perhaps any. It is any material I can conceive few things so unpleasant as telling persons anything that looks like assuming to oneself superior judgment to theirs. never grateful to their feelings, and there is something diabolical in willingly saying what can be considered as mortifying to that little amour propre that actuates us all. I have friends whom I value highly, who are always in some dilemma with their horses; in fact, they are a constant source of loss, and anxiety, and annoyance to them. I am sure to hear of their grievances, and I as surely and sincerely condole with them. Some of them have every feeling of liberality and kindness to do all that is right and proper, do nothing perhaps glaringly wrong, and if they were to ask me what they did wrong, unless I could watch all that was done, and under all circumstances, I probably could not tell them. But where things for a continuance go wrong, it is not chance or fate that usually brings it about. With others, in the same predicament, it might be no difficult task to point out where they erred. But then, in telling them of one error, the same want of knowing how to do right would probably only change the error, so the one might be as bad as the other. There are persons, who, if they inquired in what their bad management consisted, could only be fairly answered by being told in everything. You are cheated in the price in buying, buy a bad sort, manage them badly, ride them badly, and drive them badly, and the people you employ can do no better. Now, this is that kind of sweeping charge that no man could make up his mind to make. It would be true enough, though, as regards some people: let us hope there are but few in such a case. But wherever any man finds a constant something amiss with his horses, if he is one of the best judges in England, I should say, consult with another; something is wrong, and the physician is wanting. True, you are one yourself, and a clever one; but somehow you take a wrong view of the case-thousands are in this predicament with their horses. There is another mode of keeping the carriage and horses, that is, the jobbing; the advantages of which, as that of most things do, depend on the peculiar circumstances in which persons are placed. In a general way it is by no means the most economical one. Its pleasantry depends, in a great measure, on the turn of mind, or rather pursuit, of the person. Some men job hunters; agree for price, and the number they may choose to have placed at their disposal. So far as my particular turn goes, I should derive no more pleasure from riding Tilbury's horses during a season, than I should in riding a posthorse to Hounslow by way of an airing. I have been accustomed to own nice ones, had (I hope a pardonable) pride in them, and I am free to confess, in their condition, and sometimes performance. Now I cannot conceive anything flattering to this little harmless vanity in riding such a horse, the property and under the management of the servant of another. But the feeling of having made a horse the clever animal he is, and bringing him into the condition he is, does go somewhere towards showing you know what you are about. I am quite willing to allow that making a hunter, bringing him out in king's plate condition, and riding him (supposing the latter to be done), is no great matter to be vain about; but if a man's mind and talents are not constituted to the performance of great achievements, it would be hard to deprive him of enjoying the little triumph attendant on the performance of minor ones. We should have been sorry to see John Kemble sing a comic song between the acts of Hamlet. Now, I certainly could not play Hamlet, but I fancy I could manage "Jim along Josey." Well, it is better to be encored in that than hissed in Hamlet. So I have always fancied I could manage condition in hunters. In this cast of character I have been applauded-I hope I shall be encored. Families who have a great deal of night work, and only keep a pair of horses to their carriage, perhaps do well to job; for this reason-As I said before, horses cannot stand all sorts of usage: not that there is any cruelty in night work; but if horses are wished to be in prime condition, they cannot stand it so the job-master keeps horses for all purposes-gives you one pair for the day, and a pair of old seasoned hardy ones for night. A lady who keeps a pair of horses, if she is to trust herself and them to the sole guidance of her coachman, had better job; for though she will have a round sum to pay the job-master, she will always have a pair ready; whereas, her coachman, by one means or other, will contrive to get nearly as much out of her pocket, and she may not always be able to have her carriage, if coachee has a friend coming to see him, or wants to go to a party. From what I have said I trust I have borne out my assertion, that whoever undertakes the management of their stud, if they manage it badly must suffer in the pocket so long as the same management exists; this refers equally to the buying, management, and using it. Mr. Tilbury's horses do well because they are well done; the jobmasters' horses do the same from the same cause; so will your hunter, or other horse, if sent to proper places to livery. They will of course do equally well at home, if equally well managed, either by the master or studgroom. But a person may candidly say, "I cannot manage well myself, nor can I keep a stud-groom.' This is precisely the sort of person for whom I have written. It will be found I have written with a view to instruct any one how to manage-for to learn how to do this properly requires years of experience-but the one short (not flattering I allow), but honést advice, do not manage at all, is very easily learned. It is singular, if among a man's acquaintances he does not know one to whose judgment he can trust; if a man really does not know such a person, then I should say "Send your horses to livery at once." If, however, a man will not do this, really has no one he can consult with, or does not choose to do so, and cannot manage for himself, I can only say, in such a case, I can give no more advice than I have; and it is one in which "the patient must minister to himself." 109 THE BURTON HUNT. Hark! from that cottage by the silent stream, How indolence snores upon pillows of down! Envy the gentle repose of the clown, And in vain beg the blessing of ease! But we bonny fellows, who follow the chase, Can the slaves of a court-can the misers say this? Oh, may such never taste of our rational bliss, See, to the copse how the hounds scud along! Let's follow Lord Bentinck! he'll soon be in view. Yoicks! reynard skulks over the glade. Spur your coursers, good fellows! and briskly pursue, Or his craft will our vengeance evade, |