Among the many advantages afforded by the "iron road" to lovers of hunting there is none more appreciable than the facility it affords to those who reside in a non-foxhunting country of getting to hounds with ease and rapidity. Without any greater inconvenience than the necessity of early rising, a lady who lives in Tyburnia or Belgravia may easily enjoy a day's hunting in Warwickshire or Leicestershire, and be in her own home again in reasonable time in the evening. During the early spring hunting of the present year, several ladies came to Market Harborough and Melton on these sporting expeditions, and returned the same day thoroughly satisfied. One party, consisting of three ladies and as many gentlemen, seemed to me to have been admirably organised, and to be quite a success throughout. They left Saint Pancras at eight o'clock in the morning, in a saloon carriage, arrived at Melton at half-past ten, and were at the meet at eleven, with military punctuality. They enjoyed a capital day with the Quorn hounds, left Melton at half-past six, after riding a considerable distance back, and arrived in town at nine o'clock. A novel and agreeable feature in the arrangement was that the party dined in their luxurious carriage while being whirled back to the metropolis, a first-class dinner and the best of wines having been furnished from the hotel, and served in admirable form. After the journey and the sport one of the ladies (I was told) held a numerously attended and fashionable reception at her own house the same evening; and with a brougham in waiting at St. Pancras, and a pair of fast horses, joined to the wonderful "smartness" (if I may be permitted the expression) displayed by the fair and aristocratic votary of Diana in the field, I should think the thing quite possible as regarded time. The above-named party was mounted at Melton by some friends; but, by giving fair notice, thoroughly good and well-made hunters can always be secured by any of the Midland hunting centres by those who do not care to rail their own horses from London. Market Harborough is still more accessible than Melton, being but two hours from London, and situated in the centre of a splendid grass country, hunted by Mr. Tailby; while a smart trot of eight miles would bring the sporting voyageur to Kilworth Sticks and the Pytchley, provided the right day was selected. Rugby, too, is equally accessible, and boasts a fair hotel, where the charges are not more extortionate than they are at Harborough, which is saying a good deal. The hunting in the vicinity of Rugby, however, amply compensates for a little overdoing in the matter of charges. It is scarcely possible to go to Rugby the wrong day to get at hounds within a reasonable distance, and some of the meets of that admirable pack, the North Warwickshire, are frequently at such picturesque and convenient trysting places as Bilton Grange—now celebrated by the Tichborne trial, and sworn to as the place where the "Claimant" was not. However this may be, a straight-necked and wily gentleman is generally to be found at home, either in the plantations of the grand old demesne or close by at Bunker's Hill or Cawston Spinney, who is tolerably certain to lead the claimants for his brush a merry dance across the glorious grass country to Barby, Shuckborough, or Ashby St. Leger. The fences, too, in this part of the Midlands are just the thing for a lady's hunting, and, while quite big enough in most cases to require a little doing, they are by no means so formidable as those in High Leicestershire and the Quorn country. The old-fashioned bullfincher is rare, and double ox fences equally so, while there is a pretty variety of nice stake-and-binders, pleached hedges, and fair-water jumping, with an occasional flight of rails, big enough to prove that the fair equestrian's hunter can do a bit of timber clean and clever. In fact, I know no country I would as soon select for a young lady to commence regular hunting in as that in the vicinity of Rugby. Combe Abbey, Misterton, and Coton House are all sweetly English, as well as thoroughly sporting places of meeting, and the truly enjoyable trot or canter over the springy turf, which everywhere abounds by the roadside in these localities, and makes the way to covert so pleasant, has more than once been pronounced by hunting critics to be more desirable than hunting itself in parts of England where the road is all "Macadam," and the land plough, copiously furnished with big flint stones, such as one sees in Hampshire. Apropos of which charming country there is a sporting tale prevalent in this real home of the hunter. A rich, middle-aged, single gentleman, a thorough enthusiast about foxhunting, had a nephew, a very straight-going youngster, who the "prophetic soul" of his uncle had decided should one day be the man of the country in the hunting field, and second to none over our biggest country; and, to enable "Hopeful" to lead the van, the veteran mounted him on horses purchased regardless of expense. Furthermore, determined that no casualty in the way of breaking his own neck should suddenly deprive his favourite nephew of the golden sinews of the chase, the old Nimrod made a very proper will, leaving all his large property to his fortunate young relative. Things, indeed, looked rosy enough for our young sportsman. Youth, health, wealth, a capital seat, and fine hands upon his horse, any quantity of pluck, a thorough knowledge of hunting, and plenty of the best horses to carry him—who could desire more? Alas that it should be so! even the brightest sunshine may become overcast—the fairest prospect be marred—by causes never dreamt of by the keenest and most far seeing among us. At the termination of a capital season in the Midland, our youngster, not content to let well alone, and, like that greedy boy Oliver still "asking for more," unknown to his worthy uncle, betook himself to the New Forest in Hampshire. "Hopeful" was a sharp fellow enough, and he did not believe that all was gold that glittered; but he was under a very decided impression that wherever there was a good open stretch of green level turf it was safe to set a horse going. Alas! the luckless young sportsman was not aware that in the New Forest this is by no means a certainty, and one day, when riding to some staghounds, determined to "wipe the eye" of the field, he jumped a big place which nobody else seemed to care for, and, taking his horse by the head, set him sailing along the nearest way to the hounds. A lovely piece of emerald-green turf was before him; he clapped his hat firmly on, put down his hands, and, regardless of wild cries in his rear, made the pace strong. Suddenly and awfully as the Master of Ravenswood vanished from the sight of the distracted Caleb Balderstone and was swallowed up in the Kelpie's Flow, so disappeared "Hopeful" and his proud steed; both were engulfed in a treacherous bog, and, before either horse or man could be extricated, "the pride of the Shires" was smothered in mud beneath his horse. Next season, at a "coffee-housing" by a spinney side, where hounds were at work, an old friend of the bereft uncle ventured to condole with him on his loss. "Sad business," he said, shaking his old hunting chum warmly by the hand; "sad business that about poor Charlie down in Hampshire!" "Sad, indeed," replied the veteran uncle, returning the friendly squeeze. "Who would have thought my sister's son would have ever done such a thing? Staghunting was bad enough," he continued, as the irrepressible tear coursed down his furrowed cheek; "staghunting was bad enough, but to go at it in Hampshire—I shall never get over it. As to his being smothered, of course that served him perfectly right." Turning, however, from the above melancholy instance of degeneracy in sport to the pleasanter theme of the right locale in which a lady should commence foxhunting, I must not forget Leamington, the neighbourhood of which beautiful and fashionable watering place affords some capital sport to those who delight in "woodland hunting." The woods at Princethorpe, Frankton, and the vicinity, hold some stout foxes that afford many a nice gallop, while the country is rideable enough for a lady if she keeps out of the woods. Leamington, too, has first-rate accommodation for hunting people. There are, indeed, no better hotels to be met with anywhere than the "Regent" or the "Clarendon," or more moderate charges for first-class houses; while the "Crown" and the "Bath" afford capital quarters for gentlemen, and ample provision for doing their horses well. The charming Spa, moreover, is at an easy distance from Rugby, and by railing a horse to the latter place, ready access can be had to hunting in the open country, six days in the week. My advice, then, to young ladies, who desire to witness foxhunting in perfection, is to select one of the above-named localities, and to put herself at once under the guardianship in the field of a thoroughly good pilot who knows the country. Words of advice to the latter are superfluous. All the men who undertake the responsible office of guiding a lady after hounds hereabouts are quite at home at their business, and it may be satisfactory to my fair readers to know, that, although there are a great number of ladies riding regularly with hounds in the North Warwickshire, Pytchley, and Atherstone country, no accident attended with injury to a lady rider has occurred within my recollection, which extends over a long series of years. The initiation at cub hunting will have given our pupil confidence, and accustomed her to the excitement shown more or less by every horse at the sight of hounds; and careful attention to the rules of jumping before laid down will insure safety if she adheres carefully to her pilot's line. It is as well, however, that she should understand wherein consists the reason for what her hunting guide does, and what should be done and left undone, from the time of arrival at the meet until the retour de chasse. In the first place, then, while her mentor will of course see to her girths and horse appointments before a start is made to draw a covert, the lady should carefully look to her own dress, head gear, &c., and be certain that everything is in its place, and shows no signs of giving way. But if anything chances to be out of order—if she has ridden to the meet any considerable distance—it is best to dismount and repair damages at once. As a rule, there are always houses available for this, and nimble-fingered dames zealous in the service of any lady who desires their assistance. When the fair votary of the chase travels to the meet on wheels, I recommend her by all means the use of a warm overcoat, of which the Ulster is very convenient, and was very much worn for the above purpose last season. In proceeding from the meeting place to the covert a great thing is to keep out of the crowd—no matter how well-behaved a horse the rider may be on—because in a ruck there is always more or less danger of her being kicked herself. The most likely position for a good start will of course be selected by the pilot; but it should be remembered that to be quiet while hounds are at work in covert is a fixed law of the hunting code; to avoid heading a fox when he breaks away, another vital point; and no exclamation of surprise or wonder should be allowed to escape the lips, even if a fox (as I have seen happen more than once) should run between the horses' legs. Foxes, though it may be assumed that they all possess a large amount of craft and cunning, differ as much in nerve and courage as other animals; and while one will sometimes dash through a little brigade of mounted people, the shout of a small boy on foot may turn him back; and while Reynard, again, will frequently rush off close to a lady's horse and take no notice of either him or his rider if both remain quiet, the waving of a handkerchief, or even the slightest movement of the lady on her steed, may cause Sir Pug to alter his mind, and thus a good thing may be spoilt. For the foregoing reasons, therefore, to be perfectly quiet and remain steady, if near a possible point at which a fox can break away, is indispensable. When hounds are settling on his track great care should be taken to avoid getting in their road, or in any way interfering with them. After they have settled, the object should be to go well to the front and keep there—first, because the greatest enjoyment in hunting, viz., seeing the hounds work, is by that means attained; and, secondly, whenever there is a check, a lady riding well forward gets all the benefit of it for her horse, whereas those who lose ground at the start, and have to follow on the line, keep pounding away without giving their horses a chance of catching their wind—a very material thing in a quick run. A check of a few minutes, affording a good horse time, has enabled many a one to stay to the end of the longest run, when an equally good animal has been "pumped" in the same thing for want of such a respite from his exertions. Again, a great point to be observed is to maintain such a position as will enable the rider to turn with the hounds at the right moment; resolutely resisting any temptation in order to cut off ground, to turn too soon, and risk spoiling sport by crossing their line. It should be remembered that it is quite as easy to jump the fences when one is in the front rank, as it is when sculling along with the rear guard, and much safer, because the ground always affords better foothold and landing, when it has not been poached up by a number of people jumping. This is especially the case after a frost, when the going is at all greasy. Even in cases when hounds slip an entire field, and get the fun all to themselves, still those who get away well at first will have all the best of the "stern chase." If, fortunately, our fair tyro is well up when a fox is run into and killed, she should carefully avoid getting too close to the hounds when they are at their broken-up prey. There are always keen eyes about that can discern on these occasions whether a lady has been riding straight and well, and there will not be wanting some gallant cavalier to offer her the tribute due to her "dash" and good workmanship, in the shape of that coveted trophy of the chase, the brush. There may, however, be more than one lady up on these occasions (I have seen several after very good things), and, as a rule, the brush is most likely to be offered to the lady of the highest rank. These trophies, therefore, are scarcely to be counted upon as a reward for even the best and straightest riding—the less so as of late years it has been observed that in most cases a very stout and straight-necked fox succeeds in eluding his pursuers, and "lives to fight another day." In beginning regular hunting, one good run in a day for a lady should suffice for some little time. In November the days are very short, and often enough a fox started after three o'clock will be running strong when darkness comes on. For a lady, and a beginner especially, it is best to leave off and trot quietly home while there is yet daylight. As regards "get up" or equipment, I must add to my former suggestions that a lady for the hunting field should be provided always with a waterproof overcoat, which should be rolled up in as small a compass as possible, and is better carried by her pilot or her second horseman (if she has one out) than attached by straps to the off-side flap of her own saddle; as, in addition to spoiling the symmetry of the saddle on that side, I have seen instances of things so attached hanging up in ragged fences, no matter how carefully they may have been put on. A sandwich case and flask are highly necessary also. Hunting is a wonderful promoter of appetite, and it is not beneficial to a young lady's health to go from early breakfast to late dinner time without refreshment; while it is quite possible—nay, very probable in a grass country—that she may be a long way from head-quarters when she leaves the hounds, and in a part where refreshment for a lady cannot be had for love or money. The Melton people have met this requirement very efficiently. Thus, into a very flat, flexible flask, with a screw-cup top, they put a most succulent liquid, composed of calves' foot jelly and sherry. This flask is accompanied by a very neat little leather case, which contains half a dozen nice biscuits, or, in some instances, a small pasty, composed of meat. These cases, with the flask, are made to fit into the pocket of the saddle on the off-side under the handkerchief, and the flap of the pocket is secured by a strap and buckle. To roll a waterproof neatly, the following plan is the best: Lay the garment down flat, opened out, on a table, the inside upwards; turn the collar in first, then turn the sleeves over to the inside, laying them flat; next turn in both sides of the coat from the collar downwards, about eight or ten inches; then turn in the bottom of the garment about the same distance, when it will form a pocket. One person should hold this steady while another rolls the collar end very tightly up towards the pocket; it will then fit into it so closely as to make a very small and compact roll of the whole coat. I must not omit to say that, in addition to the first-rate hunting to be had in the Midlands, there is some good sport with hounds obtainable nearer the metropolis, namely, in the Vale of Aylesbury, with that noble patron of sport, Baron Rothschild. But still I must award the palm to Leicestershire, Warwickshire, and Northamptonshire as far away superior to anything in the hunting way to be seen in any other part of England. In whatever part, however, the fair lover of hunting seeks her sport, she should bear in mind that when she is once away with hounds she cannot be too particular as to riding her horse with the utmost care and precision, and to avoid taking liberties with him by jumping big places for the sake of display. It cannot be too strenuously impressed upon her mentor that, as long as the true line to the hounds can be maintained, the less jumping that is done, the longer the horse will last; that one big jump takes as much out of him as galloping over three big fields; and that he should be ridden every inch of the way, because when hounds get off with a good scent it is impossible to say that they may not keep on running for a couple of hours, in which case, if too much is done with him at first, he will inevitably, to use a racing phrase, "shut up." The light weight of most hunting ladies is a point in favour of the horse; but it is more than counterbalanced by the absence of support which a man who rides well can give with the right leg. It is the absence of this support in the case of a lady's horse, however well ridden, that causes him to tire sooner than he would if ridden by a gentleman; and hence the necessity in selecting a horse to carry a woman with hounds for having not only staying power, but two or three stone in hand. Nevertheless, although unable to give to the animal as much help as can be afforded by a gentleman, ladies can do much by the exercise of that tact and judgment which is their peculiar gift. Every lady who hunts is sure to be more or less an enthusiast about horses, and is always, according to my experience, ready to adopt any suggestion which tends to their well doing. I therefore venture to point one or two matters which I trust will be found useful. In the first place, when the hounds have settled to their fox and people have shaken themselves into their places, the fair rider in her early essays in the field should bestow her principal attention upon the animal, upon which depends much of her sport. With a good man by her side, she will run no risk from thrusting neighbours, and although she cannot too soon begin to have "one eye for the hounds and another for the horse," it is the latter which demands all her energies. The whole business is exciting. The genuine dash, the vigour, the reality, that is so striking to a novice when hounds come crashing out of covert, through an old wattle, or bounding over a strong fence; the up-ending and plunging of impatient young horses, the brilliant throng of fashionable equestrians, the rattle of the turf under the horses' feet as they stride away—all these, or any of them, are quite sufficient to warm up even old blood, and are certain to send that of the young going at such a pace that all rule and method in riding is very apt to be forgotten, or thrust aside in the eager desire "to be first." It is just at this critical moment that I would advise my fair readers to lay to heart the necessity of controlling their excitement, because it is at such a time that a horse, especially at the beginning of the season (if allowed), will "take out of himself" just what he will want hereafter, assuming a stout fox that means business to be to the front. A soothing word or two, and "making much" of the excited steed, will generally cause him to settle in his stride and cease romping; whereas, if the rider is excited as well as the horse, we have oil upon fire at once. Again, it cannot be too forcibly impressed upon ladies riding with hounds that the latter require plenty of room to work. "Place aux dames" is a rule rigidly observed by gentlemen in the hunting field. Room for the hounds should form an equally inviolable law with ladies in the same place. And it is the more necessary to impress this upon beginners, because many a first-rate man who pilots ladies, although bold as a lion over a country, and cautious to a degree as to the line he takes for his fair compagnon de chasse, is oftentimes far too modest to check her exuberant riding, and the consequence is, many an anathema—not loud, but deep—is bestowed upon both by exasperated masters and huntsmen. Unlike the professional riding master, a first-rate pilot—such, I mean, as is paid for his services—though well behaved and respectful, is likely enough to lack much education, except such as he has received in the saddle or on practical farming matters; and his awe of a lady, properly so called, is so considerable as to preclude his exercise of the fortiter in re altogether, no matter how much his charge is unwittingly infringing the rules of sport. I saw an amusing instance of this not long ago. A lady, the widow of a wealthy civil servant in India, having returned to her native land laden with the riches of the East, being still young and excessively fond of riding, purchased a stud of first-class hunters, took a nice little hunting box in Leicestershire for the season, and engaged the services of a very good man to pilot her. As a rule every lady rides in India—some of them ride very well; but a rattling gallop at gun fire, in the morning, over the racecourse at Ghindee or Bangalore, is quite a different matter to a gallop with the Pytchley hounds. The "Bebe sahib" (great lady) had no idea, mounted as she was, of anybody or anything (bar the fox) being in front of her. And be it known to those who have never been in India that "great ladies" there are "bad to talk to," being in the habit pretty much of paying very little attention to anything in the way of counsel coming from their subordinates. Our Indian widow was no exception. So she did all sorts of outrageous things in the field in riding in among the hounds—and, indeed, before them—to the disgust of the master and everybody else, including her pilot, who in her case was certainly no mentor—but the latter was too well paid to risk offending the peccant lady; he ventured a gentle hint or two, and, being snubbed, gave it up for a bad job. He was so severely rated, however, by the masters of hounds in the district—one of whom declared he would take them home directly he saw the lady and her pilot with them—that the latter was fairly at his wits' end to know how to keep the too dashing widow within bounds. Sorely puzzled, he sat in his spacious chimney nook one night smoking his pipe in moody silence, his wife knitting opposite him. "What's the matter, John?" began his spouse. "Matter!" he replied; "it's enough to drive a man mad; Mrs. Chutnee's going again to-morrow, and, as sure as fate, she'll ride over the hounds or do something, and get one into trouble." "What makes her go on so, John?" again inquired the cara sposa.—"Go on! it is go on: I think that the name for it. Go on over everything! no fence is too big for her. I like her for that, but she never knows when to stop. Last week she knocked an old gentleman over, and he lost a spick span new set of teeth as cost, I dare say, a matter of twenty guineas; and the day before yesterday she lamed a hound as was worth a lot of money, to say nothing of hurting the poor brute. I don't know what to be at with her, and that's a fact, because, barring her going so fast, she is the best-hearted lady ever I see." And John relapsed into silence, blowing mighty clouds of smoke, while his wife plied her knitting-needles. But a woman's wit, in difficult cases, is proverbial; and in the watches of the night a bright notion, based upon knowledge of her own sex, flashed upon the anxious mind of the snoring John's wife. The result was as follows. Next morning, true to time, John was in attendance to accompany the fair widow to the field. They had some distance to ride to covert, and after a smart spurt of a mile or two on the sward, the lady pulled her horse up to walk up a hill. "John," said the lady (who was in high spirits), "what do people here think of my riding?"—"Well, some thinks one thing, and some thinks another," was the reply. "That's no answer," observed the fair interlocutor; "what do they say? that is the thing. I know one thing they can't say; none of them can say they can stop me over any part of the country, no matter how big it is." Opportunity, says some wise man, is for him who waits. Now was John's opportunity to avail himself of his clever little wife's bright idea. "Stop you, my lady! no, that's just what they do all say; and what's more, they say you can't stop yourself—that you ain't got no hands, and your horse takes you just where he pleases, if it's even right over the hounds." The "Bebe sahib" was bitterly chagrined, for she prided herself justly upon her capital hands upon a horse. She was silent for a few minutes, and then she said, "I want you to tell me what to do, just to let these people know, as you do, that I have hands."—"Then I will tell you, my lady," said John, brightening up. "Just you do this: when the hounds get away, you let me go first, and keep your horse about a hundred yards behind me. I'll pick out a line big enough, I'll warrant, and that will show them all about your seat and your jumping. Then about the hands; if you please, whenever I pull up, you do the same. They say as you can't stop your horse, you know." "Can't I?" said the little lady, "can't stop my horse when I like! I'll let them see that. Can't stop! I should like to know what a woman can't do if she makes up her mind to do it." John's wife was a capital judge; there was no more riding over hounds or disarranging of elderly gentlemen's teeth. But the "Bebe sahib" has taken me to the extremity of my space, and I must pull up, reserving further observations and suggestions on the hunting field for my next chapter. |