6

There is, of course, in nearly every race, whether on the flat or over 'leps,' the hard-mouthed brute that bears heavily on the wrists ' and throws his head wildly about ;' but these animals do not by any means invariably fall to the lot of the amateur rider, who if he either puts himself up, or mounts for a friend, in a hunters' or farmers' stake-a not uncommon class of race, by the way, at a country meeting-is more likely than not to be on a horse with at least some pretence to good manners, and with sufficient tractability to allow him to feel the reins in his hands without numbing his arms to the shoulders with the strain.' It may, too, be observed that whatever may be the dimensions and depth of a Derby saddle, steeplechase weights almost always admit of a roomy pigskin, with a good many sheets of something heavier than brown paper' besides. The occasions from which the artist has drawn his view must indeed have been of the most unfortunate and lugubrious kind. He may rest assured that the course does not invariably lie through a sea of mud or a path of clay, and perhaps be comforted in learning that few riders are obliged to train so spasmodically as to lose half their natural weight and all their spirits. But the climax of descriptions sums itself up in one pictorial sentence, as near perfection of its kind as anything we have ever read: The bitter wind blowing off the 'bleak fields cuts through his thin jacket like a hundred-bladed penknife, drives the hail and sleet into his face, and pastes his wet sleeves to his arms.' So, then, the gentleman rider may expect to be more exposed to and suffer more from the adverse elements than his professional opponent, who, from not partaking of the same nature of flesh and blood, may be supposed to be impervious to such influences and to get up,' as the Oxford scout used to say of the man who never troubled him with a tub, nice and dry and com'fortable.' This much, at least, we will aver, that if the choice had to be made betwixt gentleman and professional to go through work under trying and unfavourable circumstances, we should eagerly select the amateur, whose heart may be fairly believed to be in the task before him—a sentiment which in the other's case can be only hoped for, and that not always with a great degree of confidence. And from this point of view alone, if from no other, it would be immensely desirable to encourage the appearance in the saddle of gentlemen jocks.

6

So then, too, although able to hold his own with hounds, the amateur's riding is all at once at fault between the flags, and unless his horse be a miracle of speed, staying, and cleverness,' he either makes him go outside the posts, or else sends him blundering at his fences. There are of course, as is sapiently remarked, horsemen and horsemen; there are men who lose their heads, if they do not lose their seats; there are men to whom, whether from bad luck or bad management, it happens that they retain neither; but, admitting an ample representation of modest muffs,' and 'asbhfully awkward duffers,' and leaving it optional to vacillating riders to accept the flattering offer of a mount first, and when they have got it to 'despise

' themselves' for having done so, we vigorously protest against this sweeping denunciation of amateur performers, and say that on a pleasant afternoon, across a fair course, with hunter's weights, average horses, and riders to match, the ludicrous is not the chief appreciable element in a country steeplechase. If a man requires nerve and ability to distinguish himself with hounds, these qualities will also alone enable him to pull through in a severely-run race, where he has not a moment's breathing-time either for himself or his horse, where, even if he has the advantage of knowing the jumps, they come faster and on the whole with more severity than in an ordinary run, and where the smallest mistake is generally fatal to success. For ourselves, we beg to disclaim any partiality for steeplechasing, and confess to being more than half inclined to range ourselves on the side of the sportsmen of the good old school, in whose day it was a new thing, and who are inveterately opposed to it as a hybrid and inadmissible sport altogether. Nevertheless we repeat that it is a good sight, and one which should not be condemned, for amateurs to show their pluck by going round a stiff course, and their quality by winning at the end, and they are deserving of very different criticism from that, if such it can be called, which is bestowed upon them by theSaturday Review,'

He

In hunting a man chooses his own line, and except now and then, need not fear the 'impact' of his neighbours: he makes play at his own pace, in accordance with his love of being with hounds, his desire for distinction, or perhaps the capabilities of his horse. helps himself with open gates, with weak places in his fence, with cutting off a sly corner as the hounds turn, and with the hundred and one chances that occur to a quick-witted workman in the course of a burst.

Not so is it with him who dons the silk. Perhaps he starts in a large field of horses, and the first three fences at least must be passed before there is much falling into places, or, rather, taking open order. When the ground is light, and the race begins at a great pace, it cannot be one of the pleasantest things to find yourself in the middle of the ruck, all crowding, hustling, rushing at the jump, and with so little width allowed between the flags that a horse swerving or refusing is almost certain to put some one or two others out of their stride, if not to bring down himself and them altogether. The sensation of knowing that if your own animal falls, you are not unlikely to be jumped upon by your immediate followers, cannot be a comfortable one; and it is stated of the famous Capt. Beecher, that when at the post for one of the great steeplechase matches of the day, and which were after the manner alluded to above, he would turn to his opponent, and beseech him that whatever he did he would not jump upon him. This contingency must of course be greatly increased in larger fields and within circumscribed boundaries; and it is really a wonder that favourites are not, from the fear of being upset, taken more care of, and made to run a waiting or at all events a patient race. This was strikingly exemplified in this year's Grand

National when the winner was brought so quietly along, while many of the others were tumbling one another over

'Post equites sedet ater Stevens:'

a doctrine, however, that suffers some disturbance when we remember the performance of Mr. Edwards in the previous year with very different tactics, and, to come to closer dates, his brilliant fivefold victories at Hambledon last April.

But let us pass to the next point of view taken by our essayist, the pricipal relish enjoyed by spectators, in a morbid desire to witness accident, or even death. A sporting character who has invested in 'a railway ticket feels as disgusted after a bloodless day as the majo at 'a bull fight when the picador has declined to shorten his lance.' 'Casualties, though not acknowledged to be so, are as essential a part of the programme as anything else;' and lastly, 'It is hard indeed if you have not a broken-backed horse or two, and a crushed rider or so, to enliven your talk on the way home.' We pause to ask ourselves whether it is actually possible that such excessive and ultra bosh can be written in earnest, and with the expectation of its being received as truth. Surely even the most misanthropical would hesitate to pass so extraordinary an estimate of the feelings that fill the hearts of the majority of an assembly of English holiday-keepers. We do not now speak of the roughs; the rabble always rush to an accident, and their coarse expressions and unfeeling stare are not to be noticed any more than they are to be wondered at. But what is true of one race may be true of another, and so perhaps we shall be presently told that the real cause of the enormous attendance at the University boat-race is the hope that some frightful collision of the steamers may take place, or that hundreds of people may, by the collapse of Hammersmith Bridge, be thrown into the river to be crushed or drowned. People who own or who have backed a horse cannot, of course, but rejoice in the discomfiture of an opponent, in whatever way it may come. Beyond this, however, we do not believe in the English, rough and ready as they are, being so savage and bloodthirsty as to delight in the mere spectacle of a brokenbacked horse, or to brighten up' when a rider is crushed. On the contrary, such an event always seems to detract from the day's enjoyment to quite as many as not, and with those who do not go so far in feeling, there is not much cheery satisfaction' in contemplating a 'shattered man,' or in hearing the pistol that seals his horse's fate. As to the charge of cruelty to horses, it is not one whit less necessary in the case of hunting, and it is difficult to see where there is more consideration in riding an animal to a standstill, or breaking his leg, with foxhounds, than in doing so over a steeplechase course. Hunting casualties are less considered because they are witnessed only by a few, and are, moreover, as common as blackberries, but they are not the less severe in their consequences to life and limb; and the obituary list for this last season will testify to the proportion

of deaths in the hunting-field as compared with those of steeplechasing.

It is often said that the pleasure and animation of which horses partake when following hounds forsake them at the post, but this is absurd; and though an old hunter will prick his ears when he hears a find, and will, from the force of habit, turn to the pack of his own accord when in full cry, he can know and care nothing whether he is galloping for a plate or for a brush. If the Legislature is to be addressed on the subject, hunting men will have to look to themselves as much as any one else; and we cannot but think there is less cruelty,' if there is any at all in either, in sending a horse round a course, than in wearing him out through long exhausting days, week after week, and often not only without any of the preparation a steeplechaser receives, but very far short of condition at all.

With regard to the dissipation these meetings produce among the rustic population, we will not so readily join issue, though the case of Hodge receives more elaborate treatment than it deserves. If stewards of minor races could be persuaded to do all they can to keep up the purer associations of the country,' by strenuously expelling all doubtful genii, whether presiding over gaming tables or other nets not spread in vain in the sight of rural birds, they would do much to raise and promote the real object of the meeting. Betting upon every event connected with sport is now apparently so inseparable from it that we cannot expect even the most primitive chase' to take place without more or less speculation; but if the country folk must take their pleasure therein, for goodness' sake let them not be advised to lay aside the chivalrous if innocent idea of standing the man or horse they know or like best, for a more scientific but less generous style of bookmaking. There is, after all, only one branch of sport in which this sordid and wagering element has no part long may the day be before it becomes the fashion at the meet to take the odds about finding in any given covert, the point the fox will make, whether he will go to ground, be killed, or lost, and twenty other eventualities that might afford much exciting scope for betting, in double, treble, or any combination of events. Betting against there being a scent, for instance, would on the whole, in an ordinary season and in an average country, be good business for the layer; but some discussion would possibly arise as to the presence of this ticklish and varying article.

Many representatives of the pencil muster at the covert-side-for it is now, unfortunately, no uncommon thing to see the gentlemen figuring as metallicians; and in these days, when there is a feverish excitement to make a good thing' out of every possible contingency, there is really no reason why business should not be combined with pleasure, and price-lists appear on a man's saddle-flap or at his back, as the fortunes of the day go on. Let us not, however, joke in so profane a manner on so sacred a subject, but rejoice in the belief that as nothing can approach so nothing could detract from all that makes the sportmanship, pure and simple, of foxhunting.

MY CRY FOR HELP.

I AM not naturally of a vindictive nature, far from it, but if there is any one thing that I nourish a fierce hatred for it is a thorough racecourse scoundrel; you may call him what you like, welsher, threecard man, roulette-table keeper, pickpocket, thief, for his vocation merely varies with opportunity.

Almost every created animal, I believe, man included, has a violent antipathy to some body or thing. It is a recognised fact that the most plethoric of bulls cannot calmly graze with a red object in view, no matter whether it be the sash of the matador or a petticoat; provided only it is of the obnoxious colour at it he goes half frenzied with rage.

The 'rough' has a mortal dread and aversion to either a policeman or soap and water; the garotter in loud outcries protests against the inhumanity of flogging; while the mamma of the period (if she will pardon me for introducing her in such company) shows by a cold manner, vulgarly styled as snubbing,' er by a sudden interest in nothing at all going on in an opposite direction, that the object of her peculiar detestation, the younger son, approaches. Well then, as I said before, I confess to an indomitable hatred for all sorts and conditions of race-course swindlers. I wage fierce war against the threecard man; having studied his craft for the purpose, I glory in taking an occasional half-crown or two from his ill-gotten gains; and if, as is very often the case, he is one too many for me, I deliberately set the police at him.

I draw the betting-ring for the welsher, and head him too if I can, as he steals away, and, stony hearted, wonder, after he has been stripped, whether I could proceed against him under Lord Campbell's Act, his light and airy costume after a rough handling being often. more suitable to a native race meeting at Magdala than to one in our less sunny clime; and my feelings towards him are of a similar character to what the sentiments of the late King Theodore might have been towards a native bookmaker, who might have rashly laid his majesty a thousand to fifteen a few times over against a 'dead 'one.' But the roulette-man is my especial enemy: I have broken up several unfair tables, and I am at this present moment, to inspire my pen, writing on a roulette cloth, one that I keep as a trophy. But how are the mighty fallen! this cloth, on which piles of gold and bank notes have once been, has now on it all that remains of the 'fiver' I went up to London with yesterday, a modest fourpenny piece, my ink is on zero, and a box of Partagas (nearly empty, I regret to say) occupies rouge.

But you will ask, Why should I cherish such a revengeful feeling towards the roulette-man, more than against any other ruffian? will tell you. Charlie Egerton and I were in the same regiment; I was staying with him for a few weeks' hunting, during the long 'leave,' at his father's place in shire. We were smoking our