liii r!iliM'fi^''''^i •■-'^■:■ liifeli iii^i;■;^ui^^;1• ^ __St^ ^ t/ ^ K^ 9^A>^^ just say, " There they go," or "That's them by the wood yonder/' Some people tell me. as an excuse for this sense- less kind of racing, that it encourages the breed of superior horses. Nonsense. Is it to be supposed that any man will ever breed under the idea of v/inning a steeple-race? Are not men of large fortune, who give their hundred, hun- dred-and-fifties, and two hundred for hunters, sufficient to encourage the breed of superior horses? I will tell these persons what steeple-racing does encourage. It induces certain men to be always on the look-out among breeders, farmers, gentlemen's studs, &c., for something they consider to possess first-rate steeple-racing properties, to buy him at any price, to bring him out, lose a race or two, get heavy odds against him for some good thing, then, much to the surprise of most people, win it, win three or four of the best of these good stakes, and then, when their horse is in the full confidence of their friends and the public, rob both by again losing — of course only by some pretended acci- dental circumstance. This in no shape alters public opinion as to the horse's capabilities, or his owner's wish to have won. He is again entered for another stake, goes on well up to the time, never w^as better or more fit to go. The pot is now put on in good earnest, for this hocussing can- not last for ever with the same horse; every bet that can he got on is taken: of course he loses, so docs every one but his own party. It will be now said he has a leg, is laid on the shelf till some opportunity is ripe to bring him EST MODUS IN REBUS. 51 fout again, when, if intended to lose, he is "quite recovered," is "if any thing better than ever;" he goes, and loses: or, taking the other tack, he is stated to he regularly stumped up, but his owner is determined to give him one more %. He nov/ goes, and wins as it suits his party's hook. Suc- cess and a halter to them ! for, to fill the pockets of such a set, are some of the best horses the world produces sacri- ficed, and butchered to make them win if wanted to win, and dosed, to save appearances, when intended to lose. If steeple-racing was merely a race of two or three miles over a fair hunting line of country, it would perhaps be as good an amusement as any other race, with no more suffer- ing to the horses engaged in it, and would in fact be a pretty sight. Why is it always made four, and often more miles? For this reason: those who make it a profession, and get horses for this express purpose, have by this a bet- ter chance of winning. Why are five, six, and seven hun- dred guineas given for particular horses ^for this purpose? Not because they are superior as hunters for a gentleman's riding, but because they possess extraordinary qualifications for this purpose: and this purpose is . what? sport, or the pleasure of seeing the horse win? Not a bit: win or lose, the purpose is to cheat the public. This the public will say is cruel to them: I say it "serves them right:" they should not bet about these things. I am quite sure of one thing, it is an unnecessary and wanton cruelty to horses, and this does not serve them right. Matches against time is another precious mode of filling the pockets of a set of miscreants — robbing the public, and subjecting a noble animal often to suffering and punishment at which humanity shudders. Matches against time might take place without any undue practice of cruelty, if the suf- fering of the animial was (which \.\. never is) in such cases made any consideration. What he may be able to do with any ordinary suffering is not the calculation at all; but what extra-Qx^iwAXY suffering and e.T/rft-ordinary punish- ment may force him to perform is calculated upon; and here it becomes absolute and unqualified brutality — for brutality I always maintain it to be, where, for the sake of winning money, we subject any animal to such treatment. VV^/2 are fj-equently told " the mare was pulled up showing 0'4 LEX TALIONIS. very little symptom of distress;" or 'Hhe horse came in quite fresh." Yes, I know wliat is meant by not "show- ing sjnnptoms of distress:" it means only that no symp- toms were sliown which indicated that death would ensue; and "quite fresh " means that the horse walked to his sta- ble without support, which in such exhibitions is not al- ways the case. To propose or undertake any match against time that it could be supposed any horse, or at all events a particular horse, could perform with common ex- ertion would in no way answer the purpose of those who make a business of such things: money could not be got on sufficient to make it worth thair while: but propose some feat that appears almost impossible, and then the pot can be made to boil. It is true it sometimes boils over: may it ever do so, and may its owners be put in it with a stout lid hermetically sealed! However, succeed or not, in performing such matches it rarely occurs that these un- natural exertions are made, and the animal does come in showing (or at all events feeling) no symptoms of distress. The perpetrators of them justly fear the execration of the public, consequently alwaj's maintain they were done with ease. I saw the conclusion of a match about three years ago. A horse known to be in no condition, a cripple, but thorough-bred, was backed to do a gallop-match of seventeen miles within the hour over one of the most hilly and dis- tressing roads (for a turnpike road) England could produce, two miles of which were at that time newly gravelled in the old way. He won, it is true; but ivhat a win! His shoulders, where he had been chiefly spurred, were in a perfect jelly of blood; his sinews had given way; the back of his pastern nearly touched the ground on being pulled up; and it was only by the support of several men that he was kept from falling, and thus got into a stable. To the disgrace of my country, be it said, his rider, who was also his owner, was allowed to remain with a whole skin. There is certainly a society for preventing cruelty to ani- mals ; but their laudable exertions are rendered all but use- less by the restrictions our feeling legislature puts on their power. The owner of this horse might have been fined 40s. ! What would he care when he made as many hundred by the match in bets and the match monev? If A MEIVCirUL MASTER. 53 he could have been fined double his winnings, he would be careful in future how he publicly exercised hi'3 bratality. 1 should like to have had him naked as his horse, ti^d io the pole of a carriage, made a kind of near-side wheeler of for ten miles, I would have taught him the full effects of a dravving-stroke with a double thong, and before I had done with him he should have been a perfect judge of what distress and punishment are to bear. I had locked up the preceding pages in my desk, intend- ing to add a few lines to them at my leisure, nor for months had I given them a thought, till the recent T^edford match of execrable notoriety recalled them to my recollection; and, singular enough! I had left off writing after mention- ing a match against time won by the very hero of the Bed- ford tragedy. I had given my opinion of the match I had alluded to, and in no very measured terms stated my ten- der wishes towards its perpetrator. I had mentioned no name, hoping he would take a lesson from its result, and by following his trade would in future gain a livelihood by more respectable means than acts of premeditated inhu- manity. But, as if "he meant to show the reed on which I leant" in forming such hopes of him, the Bedford match has not been the only one by many in which this same Burker of horses has been since engaged, nor is the pony the only one he has killed in his brutal vocation. It has been brought forward, in extenuation of the cruelty of the late match, that no whip was allowed to be used during its performance. This only makes the thing worse. So, because (as it turned out) the owner knew that such was the game and generous nature of the little animal, that he would go till exhausted nature could do no more rather than feel the whip, his merciless master could sit behind him, witness his sinking efforts, and only stop him .... when? why, when he found it impossible to win the match. We are told he had said, " if he found the pony was dis- tressed, he would pull up." He certainly did pull up when he was distressed — distressed enough, for he was vir- tually dying. But, supposing it could have been thought that, distressed as he was, he could have staggered on so as to have won the match, will any man believe ho would have been pulled up? No, not even those who own the 5* 54 FACTS ARE STUBBORN THINGS. enviable distinction of beinp; classed among Mr. Burke's friends would believe it. There is truly great humanity in stopping, or rather permitting, a wretched animal to stop, when he can go no longer! There is a wide differ- ence between pulling up a horse luhen he is distressed, and doing it so soon as we fmd he is so. Was this done here? No; the pony had been pulled along for miles in the se- verest distress. It is stated that Mr. Burke valued the pony highly, and was much annoyed at his death. I am quite willing to believe he was so: so he would have been had he lost a 50/. note. That he valued the pony highly was doubtless the case: he valued him, because from his extraordinary powers he had been and still was a source of profit to him: how far beyond this he valued him has been clearly shown — he drove hitn to death! Then Mr. Somebody-a-Vet talked about congestion of the lungs, of overloaded atmosphere, et cetera: the greatest truism he set forth was the verv scientific supposition, that had the pony remained in the stable he would not have died. Let me ask, whether, among the horses that worked the Bed- ford coach up and down on the same day, any particular mortality took place. I have not heard of any, and rather believe all these horses did their fair day's work, notwith- standing the state of the atmos})her€ on that day; nor do I believe one case of cono;estion of the lnnn;s occurred amono; the (say) forty horses working the coach up and down. It is worse than nonsense bringing forward such attempted excuses for what will admit of no excuse. Mr. Spring's opinion was then given as to how far he considered the pony as being in a state of distress. Now, by his own showing, it appears he has been present at many matches against time. People are seldom found voluntarily present at exhibitions from which they derive no pleasure: we may therefore lairly conclude that Mr. Spring does derive plea- sure from such matches, consequently becomes one of the clique. If so, his testimony relative to the humanity of the driver, or the distress of the animal, comes before us in a very questionable shape ; for it is just in these matters possible he may allow as great a latitude to his conscience as Mr. Burke himself. I mean no illiberal insinuation against Spring in a general way by this remark: he keeps AN EVERY DAY OCCURRENCE. 55 a very respectable house, conducts it in a very respectable manner, and, ^'tbis present enterprise set oir bis bead,'^ and a participation in similar pursuits, is bimself a very respectable man. Tbinking tbus of bini, I would in all «j;ood feeling just bint, tbat attending to bis friends and cus- tomers, vvbo are always glad to see bim, will be to tbe ad- vantage of tbem and himself, and attending a little less to Mr. Burke and bis pursuits will increase tbe estimation in which our worthy landlord is held by those who wish bim well, or whose estimation is worth having. Reverting to tbe boast of tbe pony having been driven without a whip reminds me of an anecdote told of a noted coachman. He was for som.e reason or other taken off one coach to be put on another: be was told by tbe late coach- man of tbe latter that no man could get tbe first team be w^ould have to start with along, or, at all events, " thrash- ing in a barn was light work to driving them.'^ He made no reply, but contrived to get into tbe stable during the morning, and unobserved locked himself in with the afore- said team: he then took a broomstick, and belaboured each and all of tbem, shouting at them at tbe same time till they would have jumped through the wall, if they could, the moment be spoke to tbem. This done, be walked quietly out. On tbe team being put to the coach, they from habit took tbe thing as coolly as ever; sundry jokes passed on tbe new coachman; offers of extra whips, a shoulder to each wheel, and the late coachman presented his successor with a stout ash-wattle by way of an apprentice. Coachee took it all in good part, got on his box, and waited tbe signal. *' Right," cries the guard ; then at one word from the well- remembered voice, to tbe perfect astonishment of every one, off each horse bolted like a snipe just flushed. Tbe secret afterwards came out. .1 do not mean to assert tbat this kind of thing was practised on the pony; but I do say, that a voice tbat had often been followed by a severe stroke of the whip would have been quite sufli- cient (as the event proved) for so high-spirited an animal. Let me remind my readers, tbat there is also a way of punishing a horse by his mouth, to get him along — a vile and uncoacbmanlike practice, I allow, but sometimes re- sorted to. If a snatch at (or rather on) a horse's mouth 56 "to make a wash would hardly stew a child.'' by means of the reins is alvva3^s followed by a few strokes of the whip, the horse very soon learns that the one is as much a signal to go on as the other; and both being a pu- nishment, he accelerates his speed in both cases to avoid it Thus we see that driving without a whip is no proof that a horse is not forced to cruel and unnatural exertion if a good one, and bad ones are never selected for such per- formances. We are told that Burke on ordinary occasions treats his horses kindly. 1 am not prepared to gainsay this, not be- ing conversant with his general habits; nor ever having had the opportunity of seeing his stable management, should 1 be justified in giving any opinion of how his horses are treated: in that respect probably very well, as it is his interest to have them at all times prepared in a cer- tain degree for any match occasion may put in his way. 1 am not representing Mr. Burke as a demon who delights in cruelty for cruelty's sake; but where his interest is concerned, we have plenty of proof from various results that mercy would plead in vain. I am willing to allow it to be possible that in riding or driving a horse to death he may even experience some feelings of compunction; but it is a very poor excuse for the murderer that he is very sorry to cut our throats while he perseveres in doing so to gain our money; nor is it any excuse for this man that he feels sorry to torture a generous animal, while he does so merely from his accursed cupidity. That any man can be found to publicly or privately encourage him is a disgrace to human nature. When I say him, I mean his pursuits: I war not with the man, but with his disgusting and various cruelties. Above all other men, every true sportsman should set his face against them, and raise his voice to cry them down. We have quite enough to do to defend ourselves and our cause against the clamour that a set of twaddlers often raise against both. In the name of Sporting, then, let us not give them so fair a han- dle to lay hold of as detecting us in tolerating, much less in countenancing, useless and revolting barbarities. I remember seeing when a boy, on Hindhead Hill on the road to Portsmouth, a stone placed by the road-side, and engraved on it were nearly these words: "In detcsta- "FORBID IT, HEAVEN, THE HERMIT CRIED." 57 tion of a barbarous murder committed on the body of an unknown sailor." I should like to see a similar stone put up somewhere on the Derby road, by subscription, stating it to be "In execration of a cruel match against time that took place on this road, 1844, when one of the best little animals of his day was driven to death by his inhuman master." It would be a lasting testimony of the good feel- ings of the inhabitants of the different towns, and prevent at least their road from ever being disgraced in future by such exhibitions; for twist it as you will, palliate it as you will, a most disgraceful and brutish exhibition it was, so, as Falstaff says, " there's an end of it.'' That the degree of distress horses undergo in matches against time is not always commensurate with the greatness of the undertaking is quite clear. What would be merely a good long breathing gallop to one horse, would be great distress to another. Speed, stamina, and condition, or, vice versa, the want of them, must always cause this. That such horses as Vivian, Lottery, The Nun, and many others of this class, could, when in proper form, do a gal- lop match of twenty miles within the hour with really very little distress, I am quite willing to admit; but such horses are not put to such things. First, they are too va- luable to be risked at it for only perhaps a hundred; and secondly, no money could be got on in such a match, for who would bet against them? If the owner of The Nun sold so game and good an animal, and she changed and changed hands till infirmity brought her value to fifty pounds, then she w^ould be caught up in a moment by some of these match-making gangs: then a bet would be made to do some feat that only extraordinary lasting qua- lities and game could accomplish; and then even on three legs no one knows what an animal like her, who will go under the whip, as she has often done, might not be made to accomplish: but would not any one worthy the name of man shudder at such an exhibition, and at such monsters as the instigators and encouragers of it? Yet such scenes do constantly take place, and, what is more, the owner of the winner is often cheered and lauded as if he had really performed some meritorious and heroic action! J have personally been accused by ladies of showing ^ 58 SEEDS OP ARMS. iistance. The rate of fifteen miles an hour in a trot will keep the tendons and muscles of a very fast harse to nearly their utmost tension i A rOUNG JOCK AND AN OLD PHENOMENON. 73 whereas the same rate in a gallop, not being any thing like what^they are in that pace capable of, leaves them com- paratively at ease. Take a child by the hand, and walk at such a pace as to enable him at his best walk to keep up with you, you will very soon find the little fellow bc2;in to run. The fact is, he cannot walk at the rate of three miles an hour without putting his muscles to their utmost stretch: he would tire at the pace in a walk in a quarter of a mile; whereas he will trot along cheerfully at an in- creased rate of going, and gambol before you into the bar- gain. Reasoning by analogy, the horse finds out the same thing, and this so often induces him voluntarily to endea- vour to canter in harness. In my humble opinion, trotters much oftener rise in their trot from distress than people fancy, who are apt to impute their doing so to impatience. It may be in one sense of the word from this feeling, but it is not from impatience to go faster; for probably from habit such horses as Dutchman, Confidence, Wanky, and many others, can trot a mile nearly as fast as they could gallop it: it is impatience under the aches and pains they feel in their limbs and muscles from having been kept at their top speed for a length of time, which they try to ease by breaking into a change. It is difficult to get some irri- table horses to settle to the trot at first, and impatience of temper causes this: but when old practised horses such as I have mentioned, after having settled to their pace, do rise, I am quite satisfied it generally arises from the cause I mention. I may be wrong: but such has ever been my opinion. As some proof of this, when quite a young boy I was put on old Phenomenon, whose owner assured a gentle- man present that from practice in her trot, and never being allowed to be cantered or galloped, she positively could trot at a greater rate of speed than she could gallop. Whe- ther this was the case or not I cannot say, but I will state what occurred: the reader will then draw what inference he pleases from the result. I was desired to take her half a mile up the road, to turn, and, as well as the short dis- tance would permit, to get her up to her top speed in her trot; then to get her into a gallop (which 1 did with diffi- culty,) to her best in that pace; and then to strike her 7 74 AN ESCAPE. three or four times with the whip. I did so; and from her gallop, as quickly as she could, she actually did change to her trot, ancl so far as I could judge she went faster than in her gallop: she ought to have been a pretty good judge of her own powers at that time, for I believe she was eighteen years old, at least so I understood. Now, though I plead guilty to being an advocate for a little galloping in harness, I do not mean that sortof scram- bling harum-scarum driving I have sometimes seen, where, like the general re])resentations of the steeds of the Sun^ each horse appears to go his own way; and, as if ten miles were not long enough, they are made thirteen, the track of the wheels on the road leaving a very correct drawing of the worm of a corkscrew. Such a driver should never be given but one description of carriage, and that is a wheel- barrow. We certainly hear of accidents occurring frequently enough: but it appears quite miraculous to me that they do not occur much more frequently than they do, when I see the number of persons undertaking to drive, who, take their horse or horses from the carriage they draw, could positively no more put them into it again properly than a dog-ribbed Indian could put together a Chinese puzzle. To show that I by no means exaggerate the probability of this case, I w^ill mention an instance or two corroborative of the fact. I once saw a gentleman driving three ladies in a phaeton with a very fine horse, who was performing, sundry and various antics pretty enough in themselves, but by no means desirable in a low phaeton. The gentle- man, little as he knew about the matter, knew enough to find out that something was wrong: he stopped, got out. examined the horse and harness, was quite satisfied all was right, so got in again; but on starting again he got his car^ riage on a dead lock, so, had tlie horse gone two yards further in the same direction, as a matter of course over they would all have toddled. Out, very wisely, bolted my gentleman again, and, still more wisely, stood at the hoi'se's head till some one came up. This some one happened to be myself, whose assistance was earnestl}^ requested. He could in no way account for the conduct of the horse, that had taken them very quietly to an old lady's house where A PAGE. 75 they had dined close by: he thought it quite extraordina- ry; I did not. It appears, he had on his return put the Iiorse into the phaeton himself, had passed the traces through the back band tugs, which he thought were in- tended only for that purpose, had carefully buckled the belly band, leaving the shafts outside the whole; these he had supported by the breeching hip-straps only, and in this way intended to get home safely over eight miles of a hilly road. I put him to rights: the horse, luckily a very fine- tempered one, went off quietly, and I trust the party got home safely. Now, after all, I will be bound these ladies would again trust themselves to the gentleman, and he would again undertake the driving them. My next gentleman I met driving a phaeton also, with a pair of queerish ill-matched cobs, and a page covered with buttons by his side. They were travelling along quietly enough, but I saw something was wrong, as each cob seemed by the turn of his head as if he was intently looking for something in the hedge on his own side of the road. Before they quite came up to me, I had discovered the occasion of this, and as there were ladies in the car- riage, I took the liberty of stopping the turn-out, and asked the gentleman if he considered the way in which his reins were buckled to his bits as advantageous? in which case, I of course should bow to his superior judgment. "He was not aware of any peculiarity in their application." This was enough. 1 altered them. The fact was, instead of crossing his coupling-reins, he had applied each to its own side; so of course his horses' heads were pulled into the position of the flukes of an anchor. I had not quite done with him yet; for finding his traces not drawing quite in the usual line, 1 found he had passed them through the hip- straps of his breeching, the cobs half carrying the fore-car- riage of the phaeton on their rumps, and of course tight- ening the pole-pieces, so they were kept together as lov- ingly as possible, so far as their bodies went; their necks and heads, however, being in the direction above described. After altering this also, I took my leave: my friend did the same, very coolly. I am quite confident he thought the alteration of no earthly consequence, and probably con- sidered me an impertinent fellow for my interference. I 76 DENTRIFUGAL COACHMANSHIP. puzzled myself all the way home as to who my friend might be, and how his horses got put together in such a novel manner: but it was of no use; 1 could come to no conclu- sion on the subject. Having occasion some months after to get something done to a tooth, I went to a neighbouring town, knocked at the door of a dentist, when who should open it but the page of buttons innumerable, and of course in the operator I saw my friend the master of the cobs. I then learned he kept them at livery, had on tTie day I met him been to a pic-nic, and then, with the valuable assist- ance of the page, had put his cobs to in the novel w^ay I have mentioned, which, ^;ar excellence, we will call the dentrifugal plan. Friend the third appeal's in the person of an acquaint- ance who called on me one morning in a very neat phaeton, quite a George the Fourth, a very aristocratic-looking gal- loway, and a set of harness which he considered perhaps in equally good taste. Oh, ye Dryads and ye Fauns, what a set of harness! the near side of an old plated double set! I inquired into the origin of this incongruous amalgama- tion, and found that the phaeton was a present, the gallo- way had been purchased at ten sovereigns as perfectly sound (worth forty if he had been so,) and the harness, li- terally covered with plated ornaments, he had bought at a sale for two pounds the double set, very economically thinking, that, as the set was a dead bargain, and, as he thought, would do equally well for two horses in one way as in another, he might sell the one so as to get the other for nothing for his own use: but he unfortunately found, that although the silvered ornaments destined for each horse to carry would load a hand-cart, no one would look twice at the second set, so he retained them with the comfortable assurance that he was harnessed for life (so he was in truth with his bargain.) But the best of the joke, and indeed the only joke in the anecdote, was this: the harness which the auctioneer guarantied as complete really was so, and sported a pair of breechings about five inches in width. These, of course, as in all double harness, went into the trace buckles, and with a pole and pole pieces were quite adequate to the purposes of breeching: but when used in a phaeton or gig, acted about in the same way to their A GALLOWAY FOR THE MILLION. 77 destined purpose as the strap of a troiiser would, if placed behind the leg instead of under the foot. But there was a breeching on the galloway; so, of course, my acquaintance drove down every hill with perfect confidence. He had as yet met no accident. The truth was, this galloway, which was half blind and broken-winded, by the aid of the dash- hoard as well as the tugs, stopped the phaeton going down hill. Now had another horse been put in, what would have been the consequence? why, a kicking match in which I will back the nag to have the best of it. In a light gig, or in the generality of phaetons, there is danger enough even ^vhen properly appointed; but when otherwise, unless the animal that draws it is as quiet as a sheep, the danger is really imminent. When I speak of a coachman, 1 beg it to be understood I do not mean always a stage-coachman or a gentleman's coachman, but use it as we do the word sailor as applied to any one who contributes to or undertakes the management of a vessel, v/hether sea-boy or admiral. I know little, in- deed nothing, about these matters; but I imagine a sailor v^'ould be considered as having little pretension to that cha- racter if he could only steer a vessel in a calm sea with every sail properly set. I apprehend he would be expected to know every rope in his ship, their different uses, be able to detect an}^ thing that was wrong, and be equally able to set it right with his ovvn hand. A coachman also, is not merely one who, with every thing put right for him, can contrive to turn corners without running against a post, or one who can manage to wend hi^ vvay aloi^g a road or mo- derately frequented street: he should understand his car- riage, know its component parts, and their effects on its safety and running. If he docs not know this, he may be driving with something about it loose, cracked, strained, broken, or misplaced, at the imminent risk of his own and his companions' lives; and if not a judge of its running well or ill, his horses will suffer; for the difference between the running of one carriage and another may probably, when loaded, be nearly or quite half a horse. I need scarcely say it is also necessary he siiould understand the full effect of every strap and buckle about his harness; for on properly harnessing and bitting horses, all their comfort 78 A BIT OF COMMAND AND A BIT OF ADVICE. and that of the driver depends: more accidents happen from the want of this than from any other cause; and horses are also often very much punished in their work from such ne- glect. A man ignorant of all this does not know w^hat is likely to lead to danger; and of course, when once in it, is as helpless as a child in adopting perhaps the only means of getting out of it. The reader has doubtless often seen a coachman, before taking hold of his reins, go to all four of his horses' heads, lay hold of their bits, and feel if each horse is properly bitted. Perhaps this to some has appeared a useless precaution: the coachman knows better; he knows that on that a great part of his safety depends. 1 should perhaps much surprise many persons by stating that a horse improperly bitted will sometimes set him kick- ing: they may say, " What on earth has his mouth to do with his heels?" A great deal, with some horses. They say the devil is good-tempered when he is well pleased ; so am I, and so is a horse; and while he is, he goes plea- santly, and quietly. Now put too severe a bit in his mouth, and, what is ten times worse, put the reins into rude hands, his mouth gets punished: this naturally irri- tates, and puts him out of temper: then let any little thing occur that at another time he would not have cared for, in his present temper he sets to milling away at once; yet to take the other side of the question, 1 am in general an ad- vocate for commanding bits, of course more or less so ac- cording to each horse's mouth; but I mean commanding so far as relates to that horse: but then horses thus bitted must be given up to a coachman, not a Yahoo with fists like a sledge-hammer. In single harness, particularly in breaking or driving a horse disposed to kick, he should have a very severe bit in his mouth, by means of which, if he begins his nonsense, you may bring him up at once on his haunches or nearly on his tail. This is no pleasing operation to him: it is meant as punishment, and a few times repeated will make him fear to begin again. But this must be judiciously done, and when other and gentler measures fail: a horse thus severely bitted should be driven by a man with hands as light as a feather, though, should occasion require it, as strong as those of a giant. A severe bit with such a horse also prevents that pleasing accompa- I A MARE OF HONOUR. 79 niment to kicking, namely, running away, a circumstance of very common occurrence. So far as single harness is concerned, I never drive without a kicking-stiap, and that not merely a make be- lieve, but one that will stand ditto repeated. I had as a very young one, three or four milling matches in single harness, for then I cared little what I drove; but as I found I always came off second best in body or pocket, I took to kicking straps, mean to continue them, and re- commend my friends to do the same. I have heard it said by good judges that they sometimes make a horse kick. I will not dispute the fact: they may sometimes do so, or make him disposed to do it; but I have a vague opinion of my own that it is better a horse should attempt to do mischief half a dozen times without being able to effect it in any serious way, than he should once effectually save the coach maker the trouble of taking a gig to pieces. I only reason from my own experience and practice. Since I used kicking straps, I have never paid eighteenpence for repairs from kicking: yet within a few months past I drove for a year a fast mare, who would always kick if she had a chance given her, and did attempt it constantly; but my strap always kept her down so as to prevent mischief. I was recommended to do away with it, and was assured she would then not attempt it, but 1 did not think proper to trust to her honour. The person who advised me to do so bought her, and she repaid his confidence by doing what I told him she would do, kicking his gig to atoms. She was not to blame; on the contrary, she was a perfectly honourable mare; she always promised, as far as dumb show could promise, that she would kick if she could, and I never knew her break her word, nor did she with him. The guarding against the probability of getting into difficulties or danger I consider the first duty of a coach- man; the knowing what is likely to lead to either, an in- dispensable part of his qualification to become one; and when in difficulty, a fine hand, strong nerve, a quick eye, and presence of mind are all necessary to extricate him from it. Here the coachman shows himself, and here the tyro universally fails: the latter sees tlie effect plain enough, but knows nothing of the cause; consequently, he either 80 PRESENCE OF MIND. sits still and does nothing, or if he does any thing, in all probability does what increases both the ditliculty and the dano;er. In proof of what presence of mind and knowing what to do in an emergency will effect, I will mention what occurred to myself and a friend, who in addition to being the best horseman in his regiment, was also by far the best coachman in that or most others. Coming down Piccadilly in his phaeton with a p^ir of splendid goers, when nearly opposite the Duke of Cambridge's, in the middle of the short hill, the pole broke just behind the pole-hook: nineteen men out of twenty would have stopped, or attempted the impossibility of stopping tiie carriage, and a smash must have in that case been the inevitable consequence: but no; quick as his thought could have sug- gested tbe manoeuvre, he whirled his horses round, and w^e were quietly and safely sitting with our faces up-hill in a moment. A nearly similar accident happened to myself I was driving, in fact breaking, a pair of thorough-bred ones to harness, four and five years old, own brothers; they had both become perfectly handy and were perfectly good tem- pered, but from youth, high blood, and high condition, ready to avail themselves of any excuse for a lark. I had driven them all about a town perfectly well and all right, till, coming down a hilly street, 'up went my pole nearly to their ears, my toe-board nearly coming on their rumps. I now found something was all wrong, and guessed the cause. A moment, and a milling bout must have been the conse- quence. I struck them both sharply; off they went like two startled antelopes, down the hill at about eighteen miles an hour, feather-edging every thing we passed, I ex- pecting to give something an insider: but we escaped; the opposite hill ascending enabled me to pull up, when I found, sure enough, the pole-pin had been left out. Which looked the most frightened when we stopped I know not, myself, the man behind, or the horses; I only know that I felt frightened enough for all four, and, judging by the screams as we came along, a good many others were frightened too. I liave hitherto merely confined my observations to amateur drivers: let us now look a little to those who en- TIMES PAST AND PRESENT. 81 gage themselves as hired coachmen. Among these, the mail, and fast-coach coachman takes (or I ought to say took,) and deservedly, the first place. Among these, from the year (we will say about) 1790 to 1S40, we could point out many men, who ranking in point of family and education as unquestionable gentlemen, have l^een induced, some by adverse circumstances, and many by imprudence, to seek a livelihood by driving coaches. And here let me make some remarks on this subject. That the situation of a stage-coachman cannot in any way be consonant with the feelings of a gentleman, is a matter upon which there can- not be two opinions among rational men. The greater then the merit in the few who have had resolution enough to adopt this mode of providing for themselves or families, in preference to despicably living in idleness, trusting to elee- mosynary assistance from friends, or being guilty of acts that, if not in law, at least in morality, amount to neither more nor less than those of the common swindler. I can instance the case of one of the most gentleman-like men I know. He was in difficulties; he took a coach, showed himself tip top as a coachman vvhile on his box, and pre- served the perfect manners of a gentleman when off. He is since married, enjoys an income of nine hundred a-year, and has every prospect of shortly coming into a title, with a property of fifteen thousand. I sincerely wish his im- prudences had never laid him open to charges of a less commendable nature than driving a coach. 1 consider his doing the latter as a redeeming clause in his favour when opposed to the former. There can be no doubt the Four- in-Hand-Club, and the mania for driving, first gave that impetus to coaching that eventually brought it to the zenith of its glory — " but all its glory's past.'^ Sixty years since, the post boy was considered as holding a superior station to the stage-coachman, and was in fact superior in his man- ners and address to the other. This naturally followed from his having more intercourse with gentlemen, who, in those days, would as soon have thought of travelling by the road-wagon as by the stage-coach; consequently the persons employed to drive coaches were the red-faced burly gin-and-beer drinking animal we see represented in some old prints; while the post boy was a smart, knowing, intel- 82 ^rOURNlNG COACHES. ligent fellow, and a complete coxcomb in his way: when his horses became too bad for his use, they were turned over to the coach. The speed, as it was then thought, of the mail coaches first induced gentlemen and respectable persons to travel by them. This probably gave the first fillip to coach-proprietors, who soon saw it would be their interest to do their work better, and they did so. I should say that Kirby's Chichester Coach was perhaps the first (or nearly so) really well appointed coach on the road. As coaches improved, so did coachmen, and consequently the class of persons who travelled by them. Then came the four-in-hand rage. These amateurs, whenever they saw a superior man as a coachman, noticed him; this produced further reformation in the manners of coachmen. Gentlemen then began to secure the box-seat: and then came on observations on the merits or demerits of the team, the harness, ocC. All this was carried by the coachman to the coach-owner, who consequently began to feel a laud- able pride in his turns out, got superior men on all his coaches; and when such men as Lord Sefton, Sir H. Pey- ton, Mr. Agar, Mr. Ward, cum raultis aliis, condescended to notice a coachman or patronize his coach, the fame of that coachman and coach was established. It was in fact to the encouragement such men gave where they saw en- couragement was deserved, that the public are (I am sorry to adcl I must now say were) indebted for the speed, com- fort, and safety with which they were enabled to travel by public conveyances. Then, when this business had arrived as near perfection as perhaps it could be brought, came that curse or blessing, as the future will show, to mankind — steam; and here for the present, so far as coaching is con-- cerned, ends the drama. We must now mention the private gentleman's coach- man; and here is another class of men, who, if things con- tinue to regress as they are now doing, will, in a very few years, become very scarce indeed. Economy has, doubt- less from necessity, becomxC so much the order of the day, that numberless families who were accustomed to keep their chariot and coachman, with a groom for their saddle- horses, have now put down chariot and coachman, got a Brougham, Clarence, or some other description of vehicle A COURT DAY. S3 that goes with one horse, which the groom drives in addi- tion to his former husiness. Those men who moved in a certain rank of life kept a coachman for their lady's use, and one for their own chariot: this latter functionary is now, in a vast numher of cases, dispensed with, and a cab and tiger stand in the stead, or the Brougham and groom again. Body-coachmen will always probably be indispen- sable to the establishments of noblemen: but in many of them now he occasionally drives his master's chariot — a thing he was in former days never expected to do, unless on such an occasion as going to court. The first coachman to a woman of high fashion requires much more knowledge of his business than people generally suppose. Here every jolt must be broken; no chucking of his carriage over the crossings in the street; no sndden pulls up, or hitting horses with so little judgment as to cause a sudden back- ward jerk to the carriage; no stopping at doors so as id leave it swaying backwards and forwards to the full ex- tent of the check-braces, and the discomfiture of its delicate and fastidious inmates: the carriage must start, go on its Way, and stop as smoothly as it went off. Let the accus- tomed perfect coachman of such a lady be exchanged with- out her knowing it, and a merely moderately good one put in his place, I will answer for it, that before he had driven her a quarter of a mile the check-string would be pulled^ and inquiry made whether he was ill, mad, or in liquor? Merely passing safely between other vehicles would not be sufficient to satisfy one accustomed to be driven by suci? an artist as a first-rate body-coachman. To any amateui of driving, it is really a treat to see such men handling their horses on such occasions as a court day. They may be seen threading the mazes of a dense crowd, their car- riages gliding about like so many gondolas on the grand canal at Venice; no fuss, no pulling and hauling; a turn of the wrist is sufficient for horses accustomed to be driven by such coachmen. All seems easy to the by-standers, no difficulty appearing; but this apparent ease shows the mas- terly hand that is at w^ork. There is a kind of free-ma- sonry among such men that enables them to detect the perfect coachman at a glance. A cast of the eye at the hands of each other on meeting is sufficient to show to 84 CKITICIS.MS. each what the otiier intends doing: they know the}- will each do what they intend, though only two inches of spare room is between them: with confidence in their mutual skill, they fearlessly pursue their course with as much pre- cision and certainty as if the wheels of their carriages were confined in the track of a railroad. Mishaps, or even mis- takes, on such an occasion hardly ever occur; and for this reason, they are all or nearly all perfect artists. But go to the theatres, the scene is widely different: here is to be heard swearing, whipping, smashing of panels, plunging of horses, vociferations of coachmen, cads, and constables — the whole place a perfect pandemonium. This contrast arises from, in the latter case, numberless men being em- ployed to drive carriages that have little pretensions to the name of coachmen. These clumsy w^orkmen often fall to the lot of single ladies, and nearly always to tradesmen who keep a carriage, the owners of vvhich, not being competent judges of driving, take a coachman from the recommenda- tion of others, who probably know as little of the matter as themselves. Here let me strongly recommend ladies never to take a coachman on mere recommendation, unless they well know the person giving the recommendation is a per- fect judge of the requisite qualities of one. If they consi- der a man to be such a one as they want to engage, be- fore finally doing so let tbem get some one of their acquaint- ance who thoroughly understands such matters to sit by his side on a box for half an hour: he will then either be at once disapproved of, or if the contrary, they will be certain of having a servant who understands his business. Ten pounds a year more in wages will be amply made up by avoiding coachmakers' bills for repairs, or those of veteri- nary surgeons for accidents to horses. They will also have their carriage-horses and harness neatly turned out, and properly and safely driven by a man w4io looks like a coach- man, instead of getting one who does not know how to do either, and who will probably be asked by some knowing fellow, " Pray, sir, w^ho feeds the hogs when you are out?" or, '' 1 say, neighbour, how much extra does your governor give you for milking?" or, should both footman and coach- man be slovenly, loutish-looking fellows, the former will probably be addressed in something like the following re- DONE TO A TURN. S5 fined phraseolojry: — " I say, llck-platc, when you'd done the knives, why didn't you clean that spoon on the box there?" An untaught, stupid house-servant plagues and mortifies one by his awkwardness; but a similar sort of coachman should never be trusted at large without a string and collar about his neck to keep him off coach-boxes. If this won't do, put a ring in his nose and fasten him up. I have only, in the foregoing page or two, paid a just tribute to the merits of the coachmen of noblemen or men of large fortunes, but I must at the same time remark, that I riever yet saw a gentleman's coachman who could drive four horses that he had been unaccustomed to: they make the worst stage-coachmen of any men who have been in the habit of driving at all: they have been so used to horses all matched in step and temper that they are absolutely lost v/ith any others. I would put any one of the best London coachmen, who drives four-in-hand occasionally, behind some teams over a thirteen-mile stage: here he would not only fail in keeping his time to perhaps half an hour, but would very likely, if with something like three tons and a half behind him, not get them home at all, or, at all events, would bring them to that enviable state wdiere three stand still, while (as Matthews used to say) he whops the fourth. Coachmanship is therefore to be showm in various ways, as well as the want of it, and is exhibited under as various circumstances. Show me the man who would, as Mn Agar did, (I believe it was Mr. Agar,) bring his four-in- hand out of Grosvenor Place, down Messrs. Tattersall's passage into the yard, round the cupola there, and back again into Grosvenor Place; the whole done each horse all the time in a trot — a feat unprecedented in the annals of coachmanship, and one never before, or I believe since, at- tempted. Here is a proof of what fine hands and horses properly bitted can do. Look at Batty or the late Ducrow driving, or rather riding and driving, their horses with long reins round the arena: there is also a proof of what hands and proper training can do with the same animal we sec pulled and hauled about, wdiipped and punished by animals on two legs, with scarcely more intellect than their quad- ruped victims. The Petersburg driver, with his bells and sleigh, is equally a coachman in his way. The Canadian S 86 "A CONSUMMATION DEVOUTLY TO BE recklessly, as it appears to us, crosses his corduroy roads'3, drives over half-formed bridges, or down declivities, with his pole three feet above his horses' heads, in a way none here could do it. The condiicieur of the Paris diligence brings his five horses, with his toiun behind them, in a trot into the inn-yard at Calais. All three are coachmen in their way, and, rmitatis mutandis, none of them could perform the parts of the other. I have no doubt but to da each well requires about an equal share of intellect and practice. 1 trust, by what 1 have already said, I have shown that driving, to do it well, should be learnt scientifically,, and that there is much more danger in trusting ourselves in the hands of persons ignorant of these matters than is generally supposed. My object lias been, not to instruct, but to induce some abler pei'son to do sa. If I succeed in this desirable object, I can only say I shall read such a work with much interest; and, aware as I am that I have much to learn, I doubt not, if such a work is written by one qualified far the task, I shall be convinced I have much more to learn than I at pi'esent imag^ine. I hope the generality of persons will estimate their own pretensions in the same way, for, whatever th^y may think, it would be much to the advan- tage and safety of themselves, their friends, their horses, and the public, that they should do so. 87 THE MARTINGAL. ■*' Humanum sura, niliil a me alicnum puto," I HAVE used the above quotationj being quite aware tbat my subject will appear at first to be one of very minor im- portance. So it would, had I chosen a perch-bolt as a sub- ject to write about. Now a perch-bolt most persons know is a common-place round piece of iron of some nine or ten inches long;, and of about one in diameter; yet upon this simple piece of iron depends in a great degree (or rather depended when perches were more in use) the limbs and lives of perhaps some sixteen or eighteen passengers. I mention this to show on what trifles we often rely for our safety or comfort, or perhaps !:oth; and if I can show that we owe both these to a martingal, it will appear, that, small and slight as it is in bulk and strength, and trifling as it is in value, it is not altogether a subject of such utter insigni- ficance as may be supposed. Should 1 fail to do this, I shall not only candidly allow, but strenuously maintain^ that the fault rests with the stupidity of the writer, and not from the want of utility in his subject. As I never ven- ture to write on any subject from theoretical principles, but draw my premises from practical experience, I am quite willing to admit that where 1 am wrong I have very little excuse to bring forward, and must take it for granted that with me the bump of intellectuality is very faintly deve- loped, if developed at all. For 1 am in about tlie same si- tuation as a man who has passed the last t%venty years of his life cutting pegs for shoemakers. If, during that time, he has not learned the best mode of making a point to a wooden peg, what a glorious fellow he must hel I will tell you, reader, what he must be — he must be as stupid a fellow as myself, if I am wrong. As, however, 1 am sure that ail 1 write is not wrong, i beg to remark that I throw out my ideas just as the husbandman does his chaff" from the barn-door^, leashing my readers to pick out the few grains of S3 MARTINGALS AND MUSTACHIOy. corn it contains, rejecting the rest, or the whole together, just as it suits their judgment or fancy. Little as this suhject may call for any very erudite pole- mical discussion, its use or disuse has nevertheless given i-ise to many differences of opinion among riding men; and though all perhaps quite competent judges of horses and horsemanship, still prejudice or habit has induced them to form very opposite opinions of its merits — some at once anathematizing the martingal as an adjunct only used by those resolved on self-destruction, as in fact a kind of sui- cidal instrument, the sure prelude to an inquest oi felo de se; whilst others as strongly advocate its utility. Among those who ride, but are not horsemen — which comprise at least ninety-nine out of a hundred of those who do ride — 1 scarcely ever found one who at the bare mention of a martingal did not at once exclaim against it; and though they might not exhibit quite as much horror in their coun- tenance as Priam did of old when he found the ghost wish- ing to cultivate his acquaintance in his bed-room, still throwing a very sufficient degree of terror into their looks at the idea of using one, and a very fair proportion of sur- prise and contempt at my ignorance in offering a word in its favour, though you might see them very composedly riding the next day on some stumbling brute absolutely fastened down by a nose martingal. And why? because they were not aware it was a martingal, and one of a really dangerous description. If 3^ou asked them why they had it put on, probably half of them could give no better rea- son than that they thought it looked well. Probably the same man could give you about as good a reason for wear- ing mustachios. U he had but an ostrich feather stuck in his horse's tail, or his own, they would be complete. I have mentioned one description of martingal as being a very useful adjunct; of another, as in nine cases out of ten as useless ; and in the way it is generally put on more or less a dangerous appendage to a horse's head. 1 will presently state my reasons for these opinions; but, first, we will enumerate the different kinds of martingals in use. The term martingal I consider as applicable to any thing we attach to a horse's head in order to keep him from raising it higher than we wish; and I consider there are THE REARING BIT. S9 five difTerent modes of doing this, all o[ which may be termed martingals. First, the running rein (as we generally call it,) which is fastened to the girths, passes through the ring of the snaffle, and thence to the hand. By this, if a man knows what he is ahout, and has hands, he can bring his horse's head as low as he pleases, and keep it there. This is of great use to a regular star-gazer, but should never be put on to any other. Second 1}^, we have the running rein fastened near the points of the saddle, and, as the other, passing through the snaffle-rings to the hands. This is commonly applied to young horses, and is of the greatest use in keeping their heads steady, in proper place, and preventing them from avoiding the restraint of the bit by throwing them up. Now with both these assistants a man may add to or relax th.eir restraint by his hands, or, in more riding phrase, may give and take with his horse: in fact, no description of bri- dle or martingal is fit for general use that in any way pre- vents his doing this to its fullest extent. We will call No. 3 the racing-martingal, coming from the girths to the hand-reins. This is the martingal whose utility I contend for C07i amore. No. 4 is the severest of all descriptions of martingals, and only to be used on a very determined rearing or plun- ging horse, and as a severe punishment in case he does either. It consists of a ring of iron made in the shape of a heart, with rings on each side to fasten the head-stall to, and two more near the bottom to receive two billets, which end in a strap that goes to the girths, supported by the neck-strap, similar to the one in common use to the racing or hunting martingal. The strap, going to the girths, may of course be lengthened or shortened to any degree, by which latter process the severity of the restraint is in- creased. The way it should be put on is this. Put the wide part of the bit in the mouth, and the narrow part un- der the jaw; the headstall must be left just long enough to allow the bit to rest on the bars of the mouth, behind the tusks, and beneath the riding bit (of whatever kind that may be;) then bring your horse's head as low as you wish it to be. If he is only moderately restiff, about the or- 8* 00 A SET-TO. (Unary place in which a head should he in a gallop will do: if he is more violent, or is apt to rear, but not danger- ously, bring his nose to about a level with the point where the neck is set into the chest: if he is a determined rogue, an old offender, and one disposed to hog up his back, plunge violently, and then vary the entertainment by rear- ing, so as to leave it an equal bet whether he falls back- wards or qot, bring my gentleman's nose nearly on a level with the point where the forearm is set into the shoulder. In either of these cases, fasten his head to the level you bring it to by the strnp going to the girths, and mind the strap be of sufficient strength to prevent iiis breaking it. Should he set plunging, which he is likely enough to do on finding himself restrained, it then becomes, in magic- lantern terms, ''pull devil, pull baker;" it is, in short, which tires first — the martingal holding him, or he hurting his mouth in trying to break the martingal. "Ten to one on martingal:'' martingal has it all the way, and wins in a canter. I have seen several set-to's in this vvay, but never saw a different result, or any thing even like a dead heat. I should always recommend as a proper precaution, the first time this martingal (or rearing-bit as it is called) is put on, that it be tried in a meadow, or some place where a horse cannot bark his knees or hocks, should he throw himself down, which, though rarely the case, he might do, if a very determined one, when restrained to a very great degree for the first time. I never saw one do so, however vicious, but it might happen; nor did I ever see one that was not cowed after a few plunges. He gets such a les- son in a few miqutes, that he generally leaves the da capo to leas experienced pupils. The great merit of this bit with a plunger or rearer is, that it makes him practically feel that whenever he attempts to do wrong he hurts him- self; and he also finds he is so completely bafiled in every attempt at violence, that he gives it up, or in recent slang, ciLts it. The way it acts is simply this: before a horse plunges or rears, he is sure to begin by flinging his head about, and this he generally does suddenly : the moment he does so, or flings it up, the bit acts on\he bars of his mouth, and being firmly held by the strap to the girths, po elasticity or ^^ielding can take place j consequently he WON THE FIRST ROUND. 91 gets a positive sharp blow on the bars every time he calls the bit into action. He soon finds this out; finds also he cannot break it, and submits: in short, is completely sub- dued. I do not mean to say it would be impossible for a horse to rear with this bit on, inasmuch as we see a goat do so, with his nose between his forelegs; but the goat has been practising this all his life; the horse has not, nor did I ever see one attempt the feat. The same thing holds good with plunging: he cannot well plunge and keep his head quiet; and if he does not keep it so with this bit on, I wish him joy. I had a horse which had sense enough to be quite aware that though a canter with light summer clothes on and six stone on his back was rather a pleasant recreation, a four- mile sweat with heavy sweaters and eight stone over them, was toute une auire chose: in short, he knew as well when he was to sweat as I did. His usual exercise lad could not (ret him along at any pace at all, and when a stronger and consequently heavier lad was put up, though he by dint of a good ash-plant and rating him might hustle him along for a couple of miles, m.ore or less, before he had got him more than half his proper sweating-distance, he would begin shaking his head, throwing it as high as the martin- gal would let him, then throw it nearly to the ground, and away he would bolt any where, in spite of fate, or at least of any lad. I got one of these bits for him, put it on moderately tight, and sent him up the gallop: he began liis old tricks, but found himself hampered; had a short light, was beat, and never attempted the least resistance afterwards. I must, however, remark, that this bit, or martingal, whichever we may term it, is by far too severe to be trusted in the hands of any common groom, who it generally happens has no riding hands at all; but, with the management of a man who has, it is in extreme cases a very useful and efficacious assistant. No. 5, and last, comes the nose-martingal. This is a very mild counterpart of the last; and its being in any de- gree a counterpart is the very reason why I reprobate its use for general purposes, for which, as I before said, no bit or martingal can be proper where we are, as with both these, unable to relieve our horse of its restraint by our hands, 92 RATHER HARD TO PLEASE. This martingal, like the rearing one, fastens to the girths; no elasticity or yielding exists here; but the reason why this does not possess the severity of the former is, the one acts on the horse's mouth, this only on his nose; but even this is often made a mode of punishment, or, to say the least, of great annoyance to the horse if he is ridden by a man with had hands. A rider of this sort never keeps them down; conse- quently he is constantly pulling his horse's head up: the poor brute naturally gets into the habit of poking out his nose and carrying his head too high, and, in order to get some relief for his mouth, keeps continually tossing his head up, by no means a pleasant trick to the rider, Vv^hatever it may be to the horse, particularly if he happens to be one who foams at the mouth, and is ridden against the wind. That all this has been taught him by bad hands never enters his rider's head; consequently on goes a nose-martingal: this remedies the evil, it is true, but the result is, the poor horse is punished for tlie rider's awkwardness: for, mind, he makes no difference in the position, and consequent ef- fects of his hands; so it just amounts to this, the martingal pulls the horse's head down, and the gentleman pulls it up; and thus his mouth is kept in a kind of vice of the rider's own invention — (I wish he would take out a patent for it to prevent any one else from imitating it.) If It is not put on short enough to produce the wished-for effect, it is useless: if it is, it is converted into a mode of punish- ing a well-disposed animal, which would willingly learn to carry his head as the rider would wish him, if he had knowledge enough and hands good enough to teach him how to do so. 1 am only surprised a horse does not at once turn sulky and restitf under such unreasonable treat- ment; for were he endowed with the useful faculty of speech, would he not naturally say, "If 1 attempt to carry m}^ head high in compliance witb your hands, a strap on my nose pulls it down; if, in obedience to that, 1 attempt to carry it low, your hands pull it up: pray, sir, how am I to carry it?" But there is one occasion in which I could tolerate the use of the nose martingal, and that is in harness, where horses have learnt this truly annoying habit of constantly tossing up their heads: and here again I am satisfied it in fact arises from improper treatment, namely, having horses NECESSARY, IF NOT QUITE JUST. 93 kept on a tight gagging or bearing rein till their necks ache to that degree that they are fain to throw their heads up to gain a temporary relief from an unnatural and conse- quently painful position. This habit having been attained, no matter from what cause, we must endeavour to cure him of it, which it will require a little justifiable severity to effect. The rearing-bit will do this in a very few days; first of course taking off or easing the bearing-rein, then put on the rearing-bit, but loose, so as in no way to restrain or inconvenience him so long as he carries his head at any reasonable or allowable height. But the moment he tosses it up, he gets a rap on his jaw; and this occurring as often as he repeats the offence, a few hints will suffice. This is better than constantly using a nose martingal, even in harness. I may be asked why I so decidedly object to the nose martingal for general use in riding, while, as will be shortly seen, I as strongly advocate the use of the racing-martin- gal when it is in the slightest degree required? My ob- jection to the nose martingal then is this: if a horse makes a blunder, whether a trifling one, or one likely to end in a pair of broken knees, up goes his head; now though this is by no means necessary to enable him to recover himself, but on the contrary prevents the rider helping him to do so, still, from the very sudden violence with which he generally chucks his head up, the nose-band gives him vir- tually a sharp blow on his nose. It would be rather a curious experiment, if we saw a horse falling, to give him a blow with a stick on the front of his nose to induce him to exert himself to raise his fore-quarters. I should say it would rather help him to fall plump on his knees ; yet the «6>.9e-martingal in a limited sense positively does this: should he recover himself (in spite of this,) the next time he commits a similar faux pas^ he remembers the blow he got the last time, and is afraid to exert himself, dread- ing a similar return for his exertion; for the rider cannot of course in any way cause the Jixed martingal to relax one inch of its tension, which with all other martingals ex- cept the rearing-bit he can do. For ladies (who more fre- quently use the nose-martingal than men) I hold it in ut- ter dread and abhorrence, unless put on so very long as 94 BAD HABITS SHOITLD BE ALTERED FOR LADIES. merely to act if the horse tosses his head so high as to greatly annoy them. Even in this case I should say, cure laim of the habit, then he will not want any martingal at 5ill. 13ut if he is so incorrigible as to render the /le^e-mar- tingal necessary, he will never be fit to carry a woman : «et rid of him at once, unless you want a chance of getting rid of the lady. This common courtesy obliges us to con- sider as an impossibility even among married men. Having now vented my spleen on all and every fixed martingal, except on very particular occasions — and which I trust will occur to my readers about as often as angels' visits, or those of real friends — I will venture my opinion on the use of the simple racing or hunting martingal, to which I never found but one objection during twenty-five years of hunting experience. Without a little attention, it will sometimes, when you are opening a gate, catch the upright bar; and in very thick strong coverts it sometimes is caught by a straggling bough. This little occasional in- convenience is, however, counterbalanced a hundred-fold h^ its general utility. I do not of course mean that it is useful on a horse who does all you wish, and nothing that you do not wish, without one. If his head and neck are so formed by nature that he carries them both in a proper place, we cannot improve on nature: but unless this is de- cidedly the case, practical experience has taught me that a martingal can alone ensure our comfort and safety, and en- able us to render our horse obedient to the rein, which we never can make him if his head is in an improper degree of elevation. We will suppose, that from carelessness, the pole-pin of a carriage has not been properly put in, or put in at all ; we probably find no inconvenience arise from it so long as we go on a level road or up hill: but suppose, on beginning to descend the hill, we find the end of the pole on a level with our horses' ears, I can make a quota- tion tolerably apt to our situation— yhc///* descensus Jiuerni, I think we should wish there had been such a thing invented as a pole martingal. A horse getting his head up is not perhaps likely to lead to so serious a catas- trophe: but whenever he does get it proportionably above the proper level, we have no more command of him than of the carriage. I believe every riding man (I mean hor.se- TOUNGT HEADS AND OLD HANDS. 95 man) will allow that all our command over a horse while riding him both begins and ends in our command over his mouth. This 1 shall consider as a point given. I have thus endeavoured to prove getting his head up loses us this command : if this point is also ceded to me, I think we may fairly come to the conclusion, that whatever pre- vents his doing that by which we do lose our command of him is a resource never to be dispensed with where we run the slightest chance of wanting it, and this resource is of course the martingal. I do not know whether race-horses were better tem- pered a hundred years ago than they are now, whether they had better mouths, or jockeys had better hands (I should think none of these suppositions likely to have been the fact;) but certainly long since that period mar- tingais were but rarely used in races; now we as rarely see a race ridden without one. This may probably arise from more two-3'ear-olds being brought to the Post than there were in the time ef our forefathers. These young ones, we know, take at times all sorts of freaks and gam- bols ; and, let me ask, what could any man do with these ivithout being able to command their mouths? Of course, nothing. They would be all over the course, or perhaps out of it, just as their fancies led them ; nor could all the Chifneys, Scotts, or Days in England get them together at the Post. The martingal has been found to steady the heads of such horses, and to enable the jockey to keep them in command while running. This has probably led to its general use on almost all race-horses: if therefore a perfect command of a horse's mouth has been found ne- cessary on a level race-course, it must be also necessary when we ride over all descriptions of ground and all de- scriptions of fences. 1 have heard many persons express a fear that in hunt- ing a martingal would confine a horse, and perhaps prevent his rising at his leaps. I have heard others at once assert that it did, yet allowing at the same time that they had never tried one. I cannot but think the latter gentlemen rather too fast. Now, as I have before stated, 1 have not only tried them, but constantly used them on every horse I ever rode that in the slightest degree wanted one; 96 THE POLES MAY MEET. and I have universally found it to be the case, that when- ever he does want a martingal, he will be made to rise better at his fences with one than without one. In illus- tration of this, I must again allude to the demi-perpendi^ cular pole. We will suppose that we wanted the fore- Wheels of the carriage to rise so as to get over any obstacle on the road, would the pole rising up in the manner I have described in the remotest way contribute to raise the wheels? Not at all: the pole only would rise, the wheels would remain dead on the ground. We will say by way of hypothesis that the carriage is a living object: the four wheels correspond to the legs of a horse, the body to his body, and the pole to his head and neck: the driving seat is the fulcrum from which we act. If we wished to induce the carriage to elevate its forepart, should we take out the pole-pin, when by so doing we could affect nothing but the pole itself.'' I humbly conceive we should rather take care that the pole was retained in its proper place; then, by acting on its extremity, the carriage, finding it could not lift up its pole alone, would lift up its foreparts altogether. Now I consider we act in a very similar manner on a horse, and that a loose-necked one, with or without a martingal, bears a close affinity to a carriage witii or without a pole-pin. In fact, if 1 may use the expression without having a pun added to my other sins, our great object is to keep both Wiqw jjoles in their proper places. I have attempted giving something like an ocular de- monstration of what 1 mean, by scratching with my pen in a rough way the parts of three horses, which, from the downward inclination of their bodies, may be supposed to be either coming over a di'op-leap, descending a steep de- clivity, or tumbling on their knees whichever the read(^r pleases to imagine, tor in either case all the support we can give is by the bridle, or, in more sporting phrase, keeping fast hold of their heads. " Keep fast hold of his head, Jem," is no uncommon direction to an exercise-lad. This is all very well and very proper where it can be done; but I should like to see the lad or man who could do so with a devil carrying his head like No. 1. 'i'he rein on the martingal shows where the head should be, and would be if the martingal was used, but where it is, 1,2, 3, AND AWAY," IN DIFFERENT WAYS. 97 wc have ao eartlily hold of the hrute. No. 2, has his head in a position that may enable a man just to guide him; but any support is out of the question: attempt to give it, and his head would go to position No. 1. Now No. 3, has his head just in the place that would enable the rider to give him support, and by throwing his body back, and slightly clapping the spurs to his horse's sides, he would inducti him in a drop-leap to throw out his forelegs, or, if in the act of blundering, would prevent his actually coming on his knees. I have thus far endeavoured to show that permitting a horse to throw up his head when and as high as he pleases can in no way be advantageous, and that preventing his doing so can, by no mode of reasoning, be attended by disadvantage, 1 have not yet done with arguments to prove this. I conceive most men will agree with me that a horse which does not require any martingal is preferable to the ane that does. Why does the one require none? Simply because he never puts his head in a position to re- quire one. He does all we can ask a horse to do, carrying, his head properly. If he does this, it must be quite clear' that an undue elevation of the head is quite unnecessary in any necessary exertion, and that preventing a loose- necked horse doing that which no perfect horse ever at- tempts, can in no way curtail his powers or action on the road or in the field. In short, he can do every thing at his ease, except look out for the Aurora Borealis; and I conceive his astronomical researches can be dispensed with without prejudice to his value. I have been led to a much greater length than I intend- ed by this subject. I shall therefore only make another remark or two upon it. Let it be remembered, that if we do confine a horse too much by a martingal, it can only arise, first, from its being put on too short, and, next, from the rider's want of judgment and hands. The man whey 98 HATS OFF. possesses these always can and will give Iifs horse all the liberty required for his safety and comfort as well as that of his rider, while hunting or on the road. I shall only add, that 1 would never put a bad rider on a horse of my own without a martingal: for then, give him an easy snaffle^, and he may keep his hands where he pleases, up to his ears> or in his pockets. My horse's mouth will not be affected by them ! Finding new that my pen has got her head up, and ha& for some time been going away with me much farther than I intended she should have done, the reader will I dare say be glad to find that I here punish her by clapping ort martingal No. 4. This has stopped her career, and affords me the opportunity of very respectfully taking my leave;. 99 HEAD, HANDS, AND HEELS. On reading the heading of the following pages many may indulge in a little satire, and say, "Ohi we see Hie'- OVER is driven to extremities." Now, if I was under any engagement or even promise to supply a certain quantity of pages to Maga, 1 have not a sufficiently good opinion of the fecundity of my brain to doubt for a minute that I should very shortly be driven to extremity, but as this is in no way the ease, I beg to assure any one who has made such a remark, that the shaft of his satire falls per- fectly innocuous, and though I do select the extremities of the hum.an body as subjects to make a few observations upon, it is not the extremity of the case that induces me to do so. The head par excellence is generally considered as en- titled to more respect than those other extremities to which I have alluded; not that I consider it is by any means always entitled to this pre-eminence, for we very often find it to be the least effective part of many people. We have people with w^eak heads, and shallow heads (and these great people too;) nay, we have had such things as even ministers with such heads; and, ^Hnfandum Reginajuhes renovare dolor em,'''' we have had kings and queens without any heads at all; though, as I conclude, after the little cere- mony of decapitation had been gone through, the sove- reignty probably ceased. I must most willingly recall my assertion of there having been kings and queens without heads, though "when that this body did contain a spirit," it was a sovereign. My humble observations shall not, however, soar so high, but content themselves by merely alluding to that plebeian sort of head that is necessary for common sporting and riding purposes; and for these, let me assure my readers, more head is required to do the thing ivell than many may imagine. This leads me to mention an anecdote I once overheard. A wicked young dog of a riding-boy in my stables remarked to a regular 100 head! chaw-bacon of a fellow who was fillhig a dung cart, that '^^no one but a born fool would stand fillinc; a (hing cart." — "Wouldn't he?" says Whapstraw; "why there's twice as much room each side of the cart as there is in it, so a born fool would throw two forkfuls each side and one in !" Now it certainly is not necessary that the calibre of a man's mind should be of extraordinary diameter to fill a dung-cart; still, ^'sic parvis comjjonere magna solebam,^^ there was a good deal of pith in Whapstraw^s remark; and if we could so far overcome our amour j^^^ op re as to apply it to ourselves before we undertake a thing, we should much less frequently find ourselves "nowhere" than we do. But to allude to the head as it relates to the management of horses. — The first proof of the w^ant of head is exemplified in the breeder: he goes on either making injudicious crosses, or breeds in-and-in till he yearly produces that nondescript sort of animal that we daily see, and which is not calcu- lated for any one useful purpose. He is made, it is true, to do a something, but he only does that something some- how, and can do nothing well. The same trouble and expense would have produced a really good sort of ani- mal for at least some purpose, but the breeder wanted a head. Then, to make things worse, the animal (I will not call him a horse) is put into the hands of some Yahoo of a country-breaker: he, I will back at twenty (or a hundred if you wish it) to one, wants a head; and consequently it will be found, that if he gets an awkward ill-disposed colt into his hands, he makes him worse; and give him a clever promising one, he turns him out of his hands a brute. I fully maintain, that a man to break young horses should be (to a certain extent) a man of education, at least of suf- ficient education to have taught him to think; but, unfor- tunately, any totally ignorant fellow who happens to have a firm seat, strong arms, strong nerve, and of course an enormous whip, fancies he possesses all the requisites of a colt-breaker, l&y opposing brute force to brute force, he certainly generally succeeds in making the colt carry quiet when turned out of his hands, kept down by work, and often by low keep; but he has most probably so far ruined SCIONS OF A NOBLE STOCK. 101 Ihe temper of the horse as to make him fear and hate the very sight of a rider; and so soon as from proper keep and ordinary work the horse recovers his spirits, we hnd we have a wilful restiff beast on our hands. Most pro- bably he is then sent back to the same breaker, who, by the same means he used before, again puts him into the stable of the owner quiet, with this exception, that his temper is worse than before, which he will not fail to show so soon as he has ^opportunity and spirits to do so. Now let a trainer for the turf get a colt into his hands, first to break, and then train, how widely different is his management of a young one! These persons have generally some head, which if they have not acquired by education they have by practical experience, from having been generally through the duty of extra lad, regular riding-boy, riding the light weights, head-lad, probably jockey, and finally trainer. J3y this time, the man has learned to think, to combine cir- cumstances, to look to causes and effects, to study the dif- ferent tempers of horses, to circumvent, by his superior sense, experience and cunning, their cunning and evil pro- pensities, of which some possess a very considerable share. J^y evil propensities, I do not mean absolute vice, for very few young horses are naturally vicious; but still they have various tricks and propensities that would shortly degene- rate into absolute and most determined vice if they were put into the hands of a common country colt-breaker. I do not consider that young racing colts are on an average naturally more vicious than other colts; but I have always found them disposed to play those pranks that coarser-bred horses seldom dream of. In short, if I may use the ex- pression to a horse, they are alwa3's ready for a lark if you give them the slightest chance. Now if, in one of these larks, they were to throw a boy off, and which they certainly would do or attempt to do if he began taking im- proper liberties with them, the colt will probably become trickey ever afterwards; and if he does, he becomes of lit- tle use as a race-horse. To render these colts steady and amenable to the hand and will of the rider and jockey re- quires more patience, contrivance, foresight, and head than many people imagine, ^i'hey must not be allowed to have their o.vn way with you: you must have your own way '9* 102 PREVENTION BETTER THAN CUP.E. with them (of course supposing it to be a right one.) They must be brought to a state of subjection; but at the same time they must neither be flurried nor frightened, and must be on high feeding. Starving down would not do here: no damp must be put on their spirits: the stamina must be kept up, and you have a high-couraged animal to deal with: if he is once provoked sufliciently to exert his powers, once comes to know them, by getting the best of the set-to, which in such a case he is very likely to do, no race-horse will ever he be. Now the difference of the system of the common colt- breaker and the trainer is this: the first, by punishment and brute force, breaks his colt of doing wrong: the latter teaches his to do right: he takes care to avoid his being placed in situations and under circumstances that might induce him to rebel. Let the common breaker get a colt that is nervous, timid, and apt to be frightened at any thing he meets or sees, what would he do? He would take the horse purposely vv^here he would be sure to meet constant objects to alarm him: every time he starts, the whip and spurs go to work — in other words, the heels: now, if he had a head that was of any use to him, lie would reflect a little, and this would show him the folly and brutish igno- rance of his conduct. So because the colt is alarmed al- ready by what he sees, he frightens him ten times more by voice, whip, and spur. Hence we so often find that after a horse has shied, say at a carriage, when the object has passed it takes a considerable time before he becomes paci- fied. All this arises from the dread of punishment which he has been accustomed to. Horses have good memories, and do not easily forget ill usage. We frequently see a man (if he be not a timid rider,) on his horse refusing to face an object, determine that he shall do it, and imme- diately forces him up to it: the very exertion used to make him do this increases his terror of it, and a fight ensues, when, should the rider gain his point and get him up to the object, the moment his head is turned to leave it he bolts off as quickly as possible: he has not been reconciled to it, and will shy at it just as much (perhaps more) the next time he sees it; for now he recognises it as an enemy, and has been taught to know by experience what he only fearcci ADDING FUEL TO FIRE. 103 before: namely, that it was a something that would (and as he found did) cause him annoyance and injury. Had the rider, as soon as he found his horse alarmed on seein^i- this object, stopped him, let him stand still, caressed and encouraged him, the horse would have looked at it, and, finding no attempt made to injure him, would have gra- dually approached it; then smelt at it (if a stationary ob- ject,) and finally have walked away coolly, collectedl}^, and satisfied, and the next time he saw it, or a similar object, would care very little about it. A little reflection would tell us that these would be the difierent results of the two difierent treatments; but, unfortunately for horses, reflec- tion and consideration are not the predominant qualities of the generality of horse-breakers or grooms. Race-horses, it is true, are not used much on the public roads, still they frequently have to go there, and as on a race-course they must see all kinds of strange sights, it is quite as necessary to teach them to face such objects without alarm as any other horse. Indeed a race-horse liable to be alarmed by crowds or noises never could be depended upon; but they are taught to be fearless of both, and in rather a difierent manner from that used by tlie colt-breaker or groom. Now we will suppose a trainer had a colt which was easily alarmed by passing objects, other horses galloping near him, or persons coming up to him, how would he be treated? he would be sent away by himself, where it was certain no objects would approach close enough to alarm him: here he would be exercised, whether for three days or three weeks, till he had gained composure and confidence: he would then be brought a little nearer the subjects of his alarm, where they might attract his observation, but could in no ways annoy or frighten him. Day by day he would be brought still nearer to them, till they became so familiar to him that he would cease to notice them at all, or merely as indifierent objects. iVssuredly this is rather a more reasonable mode of treatment than the one generally re- sorted to, and, what is more, it never fails — the fault or in- firmity is got over, and for ever. Th.ere is one description of horse uith whicli I might be temj)ted perhaps to oblige a common colt-breaker; namely, gome brute which appeared so incorrigibly sulky and vi- 104 THE WEAK GO TO THE WALL. cious that I might not wish men who were valuable for better purposes to undergo the trouble and risk of having any thing to do with him; not but that I should be quite aware that a man with a better head would be more likely to succeed; but for the reasons I state, I would perhaps give the savage to one of these kill-or-cure gentry, and let the two brutes fight it out. As I said before, all men about horses require head, but few more so than a trainer; not that there is any mystery in training: proper feeding, properly watering, proper phy- sic, exercise, work, and sweating, are all the means that can be employed to bring a race horse into the highest or rather best condition his constitution is capable of: but it is improperly administering and adapting all and each of tliese to each, part'tcular horse where the head of the trainer is required; and in doing this is shown the difference between the mere practical trainer and the man who has discrimi- nation enough to watch his treatment as it affects these different horses, and vary it accordingly — that is, if he will give himself the trouble to think about the subject. This requires a degree of integrity and devotion to the interest of his employer that ^\Qxy man is not disposed to show, and ingenuity and mind that few men in such situations possess. This leads me to make a few remarks on large and first-rate racing or training establisliivionts. These are no places to send a third or fourth rate race-horse to: first- rate trainers hate even second-rate horses: they feel they will do them no credit: their whole and sole attention is devoted to the pets or flyers of their stables; while the in- ferior horses (who by-the-by require the greatest attention to their training, in order as much as possible to make su- perior condition make amends as far as it will go, for their want of speed or stoutness) are turned over to the head- lad, and may think themselves fortunate if they engross much of his attention: consequently, bad as they may be, they are rendered worse from their not being brought out in their best form. A very little from being ciuiie right will bring a first-rater to the level of a second: what t!ien will, being very far from up to his mark, bring an inferior horse to? why, he will have no chance v/ith any thing but a road wagon when brouglit out to run, A PROMISING BARGAIN. 105 There can be no doubt but many valuable race-horses are lost by the obstinacy and prejudice of trainers: they take a dislike to a colt; fancy he can't be good: what is the consequence? the owner of course wishes him to be tried. Now a horse requires to be pretty much in the same condition to be fairly tried as he does to race. This unfortunate colt will not be got into this condition; takes his trial, and of course is beaten by the more favoured ones "as they like:" the trainer's prognostic is fulfilled (nobody eould doubt that,) the bill is paid, the colt is sold by Messrs. Tattersall, and "so m.uch for Buckingham." It is quite certain that the best trainei^ and the most en- lightened men in their business are tlie best men to send a horse to; that is, if they will exert their knowledge and abilities in his favour: but if they will not, though they may have a head, their not using it is as fatal to the horse and his owner as if they had no head at all. I can exemplify a little of the effects of trainers dis- liking a horse by a case in point. 1 bought a horse — which had been in a public training establishment — he was a bad one at best, and, what was worse, a nervous, fretful, and at all times a very difficult and vicious one to dress. He had run several times, and never won, nor had a chance of winning any thing. When I bought him, he had not an ounce of flesh or muscle on his bones, and looked as blooming in his coat as a singed cat, and she with the hair turned the wrong way: in fact, I took him in exchange for an unpromising yearling, or I should never have got him. Now it required no great share of head to see that some- thing in his treatment had been wrong, and that, bad as he was, he had been made worse. What that wrong was forty- eight hours were sufficient to show: he looked frightened to death, and in the stable was ready with his heels the moment any one went near him, as if he expected that whoever did intended him some grievous bodily harm: in short, he had been over-worked, got frightened at his work, and equally frightened in the stable. The latter part of the story I found out before he had been in the box half an hour, from hearing the boy who brought him, and was attempting to dress him, bullying him all the time he was doing so. " Thinks I to myself, if you lived with 106 AN IMPROVING PUPIL. me, I need not wish (for I know) you would get it. I threw the horse totally out of work, and gave him long walking exercise by himself, with a particularly placid good-tempered boy on his back, till he came to his appe- tite, and made the boy during this time invariably give him his oats out of a bowl from his hand. This brought them on good terms with each other, and in one month this boy could do any thing he pleased with him. 1 then put him gradually to work, gave him two sweats where in his former hands he would have had a dozen. He gained confidence with himself and with people; I ran him five times, taking care to put him where he would only meet his own sort of company. He won four times, and the fifth ran second, the good stewards allowing a horse to fitart which had no business there; but though he was proved disqualified, I was chiselled out of the stakes: at all events 1 never got them. Now there was no ingenuity required about this horse; but it shows that if the head had been a little more employed about him in his former training, and the heels much less in his races, he would always have done better. I could instance, however, several horses which have always been trained by the same men, they not by any means men of superior intellect, and yet have brought these horses out in good form, and have been very successful with them. This, however, in no way militates against my axiom, that the more mind a man possesses the better trainer he is likely to be, provided he uses that mind. Such men as I have alluded to have probably lost their horses many races during the first season they had them under their care, from not discovering for some time how to treat them, so as to bring them out in their best form — like a botch of a watchmaker, who attempting to regulate your watch, moves the regulator a mile too far to the right, by which he converts it into a locomotive under high pressure: he then moves it as much too far to the left; so when you wish to get up at nine and look at your watch, you find it pointing to a quarter to four. He blunders at last on the right medium; so do such trainers: from finding what does jio( succeed, they at last find out what does, and then wisely keep to it; whereas a man with more head RIGHT AT LAST. 107 would have found out in one month what it took them tvvelv^e to discover. Still 1 would rather send an inferior horse where I might suspect he would suffer in a temporary way frcMTi want of ability in his trainer, than to where I should l>e nearl}^ certain he would permanently suffer from want of attention. I should as soon think of asking William Scott to ride a pony for a bridle and saddle as 1 should of sending a leatJier-plaler to John to train. Peo- ple who know little of horse affairs really consider that any stupid blockhead is equal to the management of them. This is however quite a mistake; he would be no such thing. I have no doubt the most blundering, thick-headed attorney that ever commenced the commonest action at law would think himself much degraded by any compari- son being made between his abilities and those of Scotty and would fancy, though twenty years had failed to beat law into his thick skull, that as many weeks would make a trainer, however obtuse his faculties might be. So they might make as good a trainer as be a lawyer. Preserve me from the hands of the one, and my horse from those of £he other! I think \vc might anticipate the actimi being; spoiled in both cases. Nothing looks prettier or more easy to do when we see a jockey give his horse the preparatory canter before a; race: I scarcely know any ordinar}^ situation that sets a man off to greater advantage; and certainly, with a tole- i-ably good seat and hands, the head is not much in this^ ease called in question. But this is only tl-^e manual, and if I may use the expression, the handicraft part of the bu- siness. This is not riding the race. We will not, how- ever, as yet look quite so high as the jockey, but shall find some head is required even by a very subordinate little personage — the ordinary riding-lad who rides the horse m his exercise, work and most probably sweats. He, little as we may think of him, will never be worth his keep if he is a stupid fellow. Some boys never can be taught to know what they are about, never can be taught what many persons would think very easy to learn — the pace yoit wish them to take their horse along, or in fact the pace they are going when they are on him. Others with clear- er heads and more observation learn this very shortly; lOS A DIVINE RIDING BOY. when they have learnt it, they become very valuable to a trainer. Such a boy will take directions, and implicitly obey them: so would the other if he could: but he could not, l>ecause he w^ould not be a judge of whether he was obeying them or not. Such a lad would never be fit to lead a gallop if he lived to the age of old Parr. I remem..- ber once seeing a trainer in (I think) one of the most fran- tic passions I ever saw a man, and with good reason. He had put a lad on a fidgety flighty horse to get very gentle exercise. This lad was notorious for two qualities: stupi- dity was one, but perfect steadiness was the other. I heard the trainer give this boy these simple direc- tions: — "When you get to the Turn-of-the-lands, turn a-bout, let your horse come away of himself; sit still, and keep him at a quite gentle half gallop." The first part the boy obeyed; but he soon allowed his horse to steal away with him, and the trainer saw he was extending his stride every stroke he took. As soon as he got within hail, he held up his hat: the boy took the hint, but instead of get- ting his horse by degrees off his speed, he pulled him off his stride altogether into a canter of six miles an hour. The hat was off again, and gently waved to come on: and on he did come with a vengeance, at a Leger pace. Up went the hat again, and if ever a man was mad in a tem- porary way, that trainer was the man. The boy was now near enough to see his master's gesticulations, and stopped his horse the moment he could, and ivalked him up to us. I saved the poor fellow a thrashing, but he was turned off that evening as incorrigible. He was hired by a clergy- man, and made an excellent servant: no power on earth ever could have made liim worth a penny in a racing- stal)lc. The learning to be a good judge of pace is really very difficult. The walk, the trot, and top speed are all dis- tinct definite paces that every ploughboy knows: but the intermediate paces that a race-horse at exercise and in strong work has to go become distinct to the rider only by practice and observation: the different style of going and action in different horses deceive very much. Some feel to be going much faster under you than others, though they teallv ajx not;, and vice versa. A lad to lead a gallop to- ABC DIFFICULT TO LUARN, 109 day on a smooth-going long-striding horse, and to lead one the next on a compact quick striking one, and make the pace exactly the same on both, requires no small share of discrimination and judgment. A boy may be told, on a horse in strong work, to " bring him away the first mile at his usual pace, to hustle him along a hit the next mile and a half, and to come along the next half mile at a good tell- ing pace." This is all A B C to a clever and p>ract.ised lad, and he would do it to a nicety. But to begin, what is the "usual pace " he is told to go? Now many boys, though they had followed half a dozen horses for a fort- night up the same gallop at a given pace, send them by themselves, would no more go the same pace than they would fly, or know more of the pace they were going than they or 1 should how many knots an hour a ship was fj;oing. Allowing me a little latitude of idea, I will compare the learning all this to learning music and to sing. Tell a man to strike F natural on the pianoforte; there it is de- fined: so is the walk, trot, and gallop. Tell the same man to sound F natural on his own voice: this is " bie7i aiih^e chose -y nothing but practice, judgment, and ear will teach him to do this; so will nothing but practice, judgment, and obsei-vation teach a lad to judge of pace, easy as people may think it. I hope by what I have said I may have induced those unacquainted with these matters to raise the qualifications of my little friends (riding lads) a line or two in the scale of their estimation, and to believe that not only a head^ but a tolerably good one, is required for them to be worth any thing. We will now ascend the ladder of pre-eminence, and get to the top, w^here the jockey and trainer have been stationed while we have been alluding to the lads, who have taken their stations on its different steps, according to their pretensions. We now come in contact with the jockey, to whom I have much pleasure in introducing my country cousins. The jock to whom I introduce them is not quite that sort of animal they have been accustomed to see, with a red pocket-handkerchief round his neck, a redder face, and red or white glazed calico jacket, corduroys and ma- hoganies, a whip weighing half a pound, and spurs droop- 10 110 "now, gallant SAXON, HOLD TPIINE OWN." ing on his heels. No, no, my jockey in his common, of jockey dress is a shade different from him: his boots are beautifully made; his trousers cut as riding trousers should be cut, well strapped down and fitting well to the foot; his waistcoat rather long (as a sporting man;) his coat a single- breasted riding coat; his cravat well put on, an aristocratic hat, and doe skin gloves (quite clean:) this is his dress. In looks, he is rather pale, a reflecting-looking face, a keen eye, head well put on, and all but gentleman-like ^ no thick muscle at the back of it (I hate a man who has,) with a modest respectful manner and carriage, but with just enough confidence to show that he feels himself a respectable, and is known to be a clever man in his profession (or calling.) This, ladies and gentlemen, is my jockey in mufti. When dressed to ride, ev^ery thing is well made, put on in good taste, and he is neatness personified, tie is now^, we will suppose, on his horse, and giving him a canter. Here many a young aspirant for fame vvishes himself in his place, and no doubt thinks nothing could be more delightful or' easy. How he would like to show ofl^ before the ladies J and so he might on some horses. But our jockey hap- pens to be on one who sometimes would give a man some- thing else to think about, and who, quietly as he goes now (ridden as he is,) would, if our young aspirant was on him^- in all probability gratify his heart's desire, and show him OFF to the ladies. Our jockey is, we will say, on l^ay Middleton: how still he sits on him; his hands in the right place, motionless, but just feeling his horse's mouth. And now he is pulling him up; how gradually he does this, as if he fancied his reins made of a silken thread, <7nd a rude pull would break them. It is not so, however: he knows no rude pull would break them, but it might his horse's temper. We will now suppose him running: coirld our would be.jock be by his side, he would say that the Bay Middleton "he had seen taking his canter had become a very different animal when extended with from 15 to 20 horses mnning v*'ith !iim, and some perhaps at him. He would find, if on his back, it was not exactly like riding up Rotten Row; and I fear that what his lad3^e-love might think of him would engross less ©f his thoughts than what his horse might do with him. This, however, is still only the manual, and, though difE- » NOT WON YET. Ill cult, is by far the least difficult part of the jockey's busi- ness. He thinks little about how he is to manage his horse, but he must think a great deal about how he is to manage the race : that is, not how he is to keep his horse in the phice he wishes him to be, but where that place should be for the best. Many things have to be considered before he can determine on this. Here the head goes to work, and has been long before the day of running. Doubtless the trainer, the jockey, and the owner (if he interferes in the matter) know perfectly well the kind of race that would suit their own horse best; but they will not be al- lowed to run the race as they like, for others will make a pretty shrewd guess at the kind of race our jockey would wish for his horse, and will therefore (if they consider him dangerous) take care it shall be run in a diametrically op- posite way. And could a man even command a race to be run as he wishes, a good deal would have to be considered when this was accorded to him: for possibly the very kind of race that suits his horse would also suit two or three others that he is afraid of; so, all he could ensure even by this would be beating sixteen out of twenty. This is in no way ensuring winning the race. He may have, and pro- bably has considered, as far as human foresight will go, how such horses as he is afraid of are likely to run in the race, and has made up his mind how to act under every circumstance. We will say he has done so, and feels he has them beaten; but he finds others a good deal better than he thought. He has then to think again; for here is a new feature in the race: but, worse than all, he may- find some unthought-of devil show in front full of runr. ning: he may have patience to wait, hoping this new customer may shut up: but suppose he finds he does not, he must not let this new comet run in shaking his tail at him without a struggle for it. He knows if he calls upon his own horse before he can live at his best, he will beat him; and if he lies too far out of his ground, we have been taught lately that a few strides will not always take a "race away from another horse, though he may be on a flyer. What is he to do now? He can do but one thing: he knows his horse's speed; he must judge how he feels under him, what powers are left in him, and time it tQ 112 "practice such a nicety, that when he does set-to with him, those powers shall last just to the winning-post, but would fail in three strides beyond it. And to this nicety will a per- fect jockey ride his horse. Does tills, let me ask, require no head? Is this a mere mechanical business that any blockhead is equal to? He may ride, and even make a fair horseman; but before he can be a jockey he must be taught io think: and what must be the quickness of observation and decision required where a man has only perhaps three minutes given him to observe, decide, and act! 1 have only represented a supposed circumstance or two to show the difficulties a jockey has to contend with, when h\ fact they are innumerable. It is not merely that he may ride four or five different horses on the same day, 4ill of whicii may require to be differently ridden; but un- der different circumstances the same horse requires it also. Horses under the best training will sometimes (mares fre- quently) go back a little, and not be quite up to their usual mark on the day of running: he may be running under higher weight than he has been carrying, or the reverse: all this the jockey must consider, not merely as it will af- fect the running of his own horse, but of others in the race. Talk of head, why a state trial does not require more to carry it on, and possibly it may not be of as much consequence whether it is lost or gained as many of our races. I stated in the commencement of these papers that a cer- tain degree of education would be very desirable in a per- son who undertakes breaking young horses, and also in a trainer: I trust my reader will think that it would be equally advantageous to the jockey. That there are many good jockeys ivithout we know: but I maintain that they would probably have been still better with, with of course the addition of practice as well. I remember to have spoken in a few opinions lately no flattering terms of gentlemen jockeys (that is, as jockeys;) but this says no- thing against my theory. I must have education and prac- tice combined to produce better jockeys than we have, and it is from the want of practice only that gentlemen fail: but though they seldom ride a race well, if they wevo^ ig- StTCH PAY BETTER THAN HALF PAY. 113 norant men, with the little practice they have, they would ride it still worse than they do. I know theoretical prin- ciples alone will never make a workman in any thing; but the man who commences with a good stock of them will nmch sooner become one than a man who has none. No gentleman will undergo the necessary ordeal to make him a perfect jockey; yet there are some gentlemen whose names I could mention who could tell most jockeys a great deal more than the latter know of their business (the practical part excepted.) I will mention one of our aris- tocracy who can ride very nearly as well as our best pro- fessional jocks, and much better than nine out of ten of the others — General Gilbert. He only wants the ordinary jockey's practice to be perfect. Here education (the pre- cursor to fine judgment in any thing a man undertakes) has led to what most jockeys want — head. If poor Pavishad had such a head, he would have been a still more perfect Jo'd^ey on his horse than off. Some jockeys will perhaps ridicule the idea of education improving them: I dare say tlie}^ will: all, or nearly all, ignorant persons are self-sufft- cient enough, and hate any theory. I should say to such, '• Quid rides? do tefabula narratur. In these " piping times of peace," in this era of general distress, when we see close relatives of Nobility toiling tiieir eight hours at the desk of a Public Office for SO/, or 90/. per annurr), we are led to think that it matters little in what way a man can mjvke his 300/. or 400/. a-year, pro^ vided the occupation is not in itself disgraceful. We might, therefore, expect that we should have some very superior men now following the occupation of professional riders; but there are many things that will always prevent this being the case. With a \q.ty few exceptions, I do not call to my recollection more than a very few — Powell, the M'Donoughs, Mayne, and a few others, for instance — though Mayne was hardly to be called publicly profes- sional, as he only trained, and sometimes rode for Lord Howth. But these can only ride at high weights, Powell particularly so, who never would deny to himself or his fiicnd an}^ of the good things of this life (if he could help it;) therefore can only be considered as steeple-chase riders. I think I am within the mark when I say, not oas 10* 114 SELP-DENIAL EXEMPLIFIED. man in a thousand can ride the weight of a flat-race rider, and certainly no man can hope to make a good income as such a jock who cannot get on his horee at Derby weight; and many of those who can, do it at an expense of bodily discomfort that nothing but habit enables man to bear, and of which few persons are aware. It is not quite agreeable to see every one enjoying themselves but oneself. Af- ter a good dinner, it is all very fine to say it matters little what a man eats; but when the quality and the quantity of these vulgar creature-comforts are both limited to the small- est degree of nourishment the frame is capable of enduring, the thing is not quite so pleasant, particularly when to this are added certain little walks of a diaphoretic nature that are in no way pleasing addenda to the banyan days. No- thing can be pleasanter than to go on a visit to the noble patrons of the Eglinton Park, Croxton Park, or Bibury Meetings (where the weights are made to suit gentlemen,) and there to show off as one of the jocks. We will sup- pose a jock (that is to be on to-morrow) at the dinner table: a few sips of white soup or julienne, with a glass of sherry, prepare him for two or three forkfuls of turbot, or John Dory, or the fish most in season: " Champagne, sir!" a slice of venison, (the sauce is exquisite:) ^-Champagne, sir!" the chapon aux truffesis magnificent (Champagne:) a mi- nute particle of the vol au ve)it brings on another " Cham- pagne, sir." As our jock considers he must keep on the muzzle, he determines to be abstemious, and finishes with merely an orange fritter and some jelly. Stilton, parmesan or Gruyere? Neither. Macaroni is lighter for a jock, who is now enabled to wait for the dessert, the more so as from having taken so little, he has had a glass of Maraschino to prevent any cramp in the stomach : and this imboldens him to venture on a little ice, and then an olive, taken to pre- pare him for the claret. Here we will leave him till we find him revelling in the greater enjoyment of the society of the ladies in the drawing-room There, conversation, music, charades, tableaux vivans, and perhaps a quadrille got up at the moment, bring on the tray supper, only a trai/ supper, but constituting every delicacy that can tempt aris- tocratic appetite. He eats, that is, vulgarly e^^.? — nothing; Wit, bird-like, pecks a grain of many things. In short, his "take the gocd the gods provide. ' 115 abstemiousness amounts in point of fact to the same thing as if he had devoured a couple of good mutton-cl.ops. He now begins to think that with the aid of his valet he can get to bed. In the morning, breakfast: jocks should not eat breakfasts; he will only therefore take something light. Chocolate? No. A cup of Mocha enlivens, and givesener- gy to the nerves: three or four plover's eggs are light : so are prawns, a potted lamprey, and a mere forkful o^ galantine clc gibier aux truffes. Fearing his wasting system may not have produced the effect of making him lighter, he deter- mines on a walk after breakfast; and really takes one as far as the conservatory wMth the ladies, visits the gold fish in their marble ocean, and takes a peep at the gold and silver ])!ieasants. It is now time to dress, and on go the gossamer boots; ditto ditto unmentionables and satin jacket: over this such a love of Chesterfield or Taglioni ! Notwith- standing all this, he is no puppy nor fool, and perhaps rides his race well, and with plenty of nerve (considering the de- privations he has submitted to,) and that with a 41 b. saddle he can ride 12 st. 1 am afraid my jock, who has to ride 7 st. 12 lb., has not passed his time quite so pleasantly. While the one was at dinner, the other was getting his tea; dinner he had none: some dry toast and a cup of tea suffice in place of the other's three meals: notwithstanding which he finds himself over-weight in the morning. He also takes his walk, but rather in a different way: a couple of flannel waistcoats, ditto drawers, a great coat, flannel cap, and a fast walk of two or three miles out and back is not visiting the gold fish. Nor would one cup of tea and bit of dry toast be quite agreeable to our gentleman jock. It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that we have so few men of education making riding races a profession: still, as some boys select this occupation, if as boys they were brought to think more than they are, I maintain they would become more scientific, and consequently much better jockeys from this sort of education. Having said thus much of the different functionaries of the /i/r/ let us now inquire how far hunting may require head in its pursuit. I doubt not there are many persons who think any ordi- 116 HUNTSxMEN SOMETIMES PUPPIES. nary fellow who can " whoop," and ^' halloo," blow a horn and ride boldly, is. good enough for a huntsman. Of course no sportsman thinks this; but I am not making these observations for the edification of sportsmen: I ne- ver, on any occasion, presume to write for their instruction; but I am endeavouring to show those of the world who are not sportsmen that our pursuits approach nearer to their own in point of the requisite of mind (or as I have termed it, head) than they have hitlierto supposed. If I succeed in this, my most aspiring hope will be re- alized. I have always considered, that, take him all in all, a huntsman who is first-rate as a kennel huntsman, and mode- rately good in the field, supposing the entire management of the pack was left to him, would during a season show more sport than if his attributes were reversed. If I am wrong in this opinion, I am, (as I hope I am on every oc- casion,) open to correction. My reasons for having always held this opinion are, that if the pack are bad in them- selves the best chase huntsman on earth cannot make them good; if they are good in a general way, the less the hunts^ man interferes with them the better. 1 have known many crack coachmen whose great fault was driving too much. Mayne, whom I have mentioned as a race-rider, though a most superior horseman, ahvays rode too much: he never could keep quiet in his saddle, but was always doing some? thing with his horse, and sometimes beat him, by doing what he considered was assisting him. I have seen many crack huntsmen who I felt perfectly convinced hunted their hounds too much; in short wanted to kill their fox, by their own sagacity instead of allowing the hounds to do so by theirs, and would all but take them ofi^ their noses to get the credit of a knowing cast — a degree of puppyism and arrogance in a huntsman which I consider quite un- pardonable. I shall quote an instance of this kind of thing, and the huntsman's excuse for it. Hounds were running with a burning scent, but came to a check: a couple or two shortly hit it off; the pack joined, and away they were going, when, to every one's astonishment, the first whip was sent to get them back, the huntsman riding, hallooing, and blowing his horn in a different direction. THE SCHOOLMASTER WANTED. 117 He made a cast, but not a hound owned the vestige of a scent; so he was forced to try back (hateful at all times to a fox-hunter.) Coming to the spot where they were rting dogs wlicn b:id ones; a fox-hound or greyhound parlieularly so: a bad pointer sometuTies makes a capital watch-dog. This, by-the-by, brings to my recollection an acquamtance of mine who hunted with the Epping hounds (at least so he said, for I never joined the hunt.) He came to see me, on my promising to mount with the (then) King's hounds and the Old Ber- keley; but wishing to show himself a sportsman in every way, he brought down a bran new Manton and (as I after- wards found out) a bran new dog. He stated that he brought but one, concluding 1 was a shot Now 1 never pointed a gun at a head of game in my life. 1 did as a boy knock swallows and pigeons about, and made sad de- vastation along the hedgerows; and as I always insisted on the contents of my bag or pockets being made into pies, I may fairly assert, that I have devoured more larks, black- birds, thrushes, sparrows, chaffinches, greenfinches, and every other finch, than perhaps any man in England, for no sort came amiss to me. So much for my shooting ex- ploits. On expressing my regret at not having pointers and settei-s to lend, I offered as a substitute the clioice of half-a-dazen capital bull-terriers, or a French dog, which would ring the bell, fetch my hat, stand on his head, and perform various other exhibitions, and might (for all I knew) find game. However, my ofier was declined, add- ing, with a self-satisfied look, that ^hls/avoioiie was quite sufficient single-handed : he had always found him so when- ever he had tried him." (This w^as the truth.) Off vve went, with a stable-boy canying a new game-pannier. Carlo appeared perfectly steady, which my friend told me he was warranted to do when he first bought him, but he did not say that was within three days, and of some fellow in the city road. Well, he trotted along after us as if he was led in a string. On getting to some fields where I knew birds always laid, his master gave the important wave of his arm, and "hie on !" Carlo looked very much like wondering what he meant. "Hie away !" cries his master in a louder tone. Carlo looked up in his face, and wagged his tail. His master said he was a timid meek dog. Pie patted, and encouraged him. Carlo, in gratitude, saluted him with his dirty paws on the white cords. "Hie on, A RUM DISTILLER. 121 good dog!" Carlo did now poke his nose into a furrow^ very much as if he was looking for a mouse. My poor city friend could stand it no longer: he fleW into a rage; and while I was bursting my sides laughing, he gave Carlo a whack with his gun, who in return gave an awful yell, and then incontinently looked to his scrapers, topped the field-gate like a greyhound, and on our going to the hedge to look after the valuable animal, we saw him half a mile on the London high road at top speed; and as it was but twenty miles to town, I doubt not but Carlo got safe back to his kennel in the city road before evening. I had sisked a couple of friends to meet my city acquaintance, but spared him by not even mentioning Carlo. However, he could not stand the thing. My boy had told the story in the stable and kitchen, and off the Epping hero went the next morning. I dare say I lost a good thing by not seeing him go with hounds. Now, though I am no shot, I know when a pointer be- haves well or not; and as Carlo certainly afforded me ten times the amusement I should have enjoj^ed from the best dog Osbaldeston ever shot over, it is ungrateful in me to say a word in his dispraise. But 1 must candidly allow, that, if I did shoot, he was not just the sort I should like. Head was wanting in this case, either in the dog or his tu- tor, or both. With many ap6loo;ies to my headers for this digression, 1 will now return to the kennel huntsman. I must beg my readers not to suppose the duty of a huntsman when out of the field to consist merely in seeing his hounds cat their pudding. "Do fox-hounds eat pudding?" I think I hear some schoolboy ask, or perhaps some gentleman who may have left school some forty years (if either happen to read what 1 have written.) Indeed, my good sir, they doj and beef, and broth, vegetables, milk, and other good things, at times; and what is more, each gentleman hound is sepa- rately invited to dinner, ushered into the dining-room with all proper ceremony, and when there, if he does not con- duct himself with proper dog courtesy to his fellow guests, is very severely reprimanded. I am free to allow the said guests, or most of them, do follow the American table-d^hdte custom of helping themselves to any thing and every thing 11 122 ^ STAND NOT, ETC. ETC., BUT GO AT ONCE." within their reach, eatino- as fast and as much as tliey can, and then taking themselves off, the dinner conversation consisting in both cases of an occasional growl when inter- rupted in the process of boiling, I do not say masticating, their food. That seeing his hounds get proper food, in proper quan- tities, proper medicine, and proper exercise, is one duty of the huntsman, mo«t persons know; but where head in him is chiefly required, is in the breeding of such hounds as are adapted to his particular country. Hounds that will sail away over the large enclosures and fine scenting-ground of Leicestershire, would make no hand of some of our cold clayey small enclosed countries, nor would they like the dry flints of Kent. Hounds may be too highly bred for some countries, where they hardly dare throw up their heads for twenty strides together, but mu&t pick it out every yard. Such hounds would lose patience, overrun the scent, and in such cases, their blood being up, would hunt any thing, ay, the parson of the parish, if they got on the scent of him, and possibly kill him too, if they ran in to him. That great judgment is required in forming a really per- fect pack is shown by the fact, that where the master un- derstands the thing, and will take the trouble of attending to it, we always see the best packs. Few huntsmen could have got together such a pack as the Raby when Lord Darlington personally attended to the breeding and hunt- ing them; or such as at one time the Ward lady pack, and some others of the present day. Both the packs I have mentioned I saw when quite a boy, and have never forgot- ten them. This perfection was, however, the result of years of experience and expense. Hounds must not only have different qualifications as to speed for different coun- tries, but different shape and make. In an open country, where hounds I may say race into their fox, the tall, very high-bred, and somewhat loose coupled hound is required. In such countries where foxes go long distances in search of prey (and coverts generally lay wide,) they {;not the coverts) are in good wind, seldom over fat, and, knowing they have only speed to trust to to save themselves, go off at once, and go in earnest. If, therefore, their speed is great, what must the pace be to catch them? Such hounds LONG TAILS AND SHORT TAILS. 123 would not do however in hilly countries: hills would tire them to death; while their game being a shorter legged animal, would beat them hollow. Here the well-knit, low, long and broad hound must be had: liere positive physical strength is wanting both in hounds and horses. Fine noses are unquestionably most desirable in all hounds and in all countries, but are more indispensable in some instances than in others. I should say, where the very finest are re- quired is in an open, bad-scenting country. Here hounds have little or nothing in the shape of fences to stop them; and to carry on a slight scent at a racing pace requires the ne plus ultra of a nose. A very thickly-enclosed country does not allow hounds to go this pace; consequently, if it is a bad-scenting one, hounds are more disposed to stoop to a scent. Speed also is a great desideratum in a hound; but, as in horses, there are two distinct sorts of speed, something like that of the greyhound and the rabbit. Now match these to run a hundred yards and start, I am not quite clear but bunny would have the best of it. He would get half the distance before the longtaii would get to half his speed. Perhaps we should call the first quickness, the latter speed. It is this sort of rabbit-like quickness we want both in hounds and nags in a very enclosed country: both must be able to get to their best pace at once. Put me in a country where the fields were only an acre each, and on a quick cob, 1 would beat old Vivian in his palmy days, unless he is very much altered since the time 1 knew him ten years since — I mean, altered as to being quick and handy: he is altered enough in every other way. Now these different requisites a huntsman has to get into his hounds for his particular country, which can only be effected by judicious crosses: nor are they to be obtained in the first generation. Put a remarkable speedy, dashing, flighty dog to a meek, steady, slow, close line hunting bitch, or vice versa, we must not flatter ourselves we shall arrive at the happy medium. We may have got nearer to what we want; hut the produce may be too high or too low — may still have too much of the glare and dash of the one parent, or too much of the want of it of the other. We must now cross again, and persevere till we arrive at per- fection, or near it. This, it will be perceived, is not come 124 A DEGENERATE RACE. at in one or two seasons; and, in a general way, I think I ghall be found somewhat near the mark when I said that in about four seasons I sliould like to take a peep at a nevvly organized pack; and then I make the proviso, that a head of the right sort has been at work for them; if not, com- mend me to two or three good terriers in a barn full of rats: I should at all events see some description of sport carried on as it ought to be. Let me add another thing: I know of few situations a man can be placed in to call forth all the attributes of a per-^ feet gentleman so much as being the master of foxhounds? he has so many interests to consult — so many opinions (and man}^ of them ridiculous ones) to listen to — ^often so much ill-breeding in the field to bear — so many tempers to conciliate — that nothing but the greatest urbanity of man- ner, added to steady determination, can carry him through; and this even after he has brought his pack to be all but faultless. I hope my readers will now agree with me, that to manage a pack of foxhounds, requires more head thai:i those who think it does not probably possess. We now see weekly so many steeple-chases advertised, that we may be led to the inference that either it requires very little or no head to ride one, or that the English have become all at once more than usually enlightened. Neither of these premises, are, however, the fact, though the in-s qreased number of steeple-races is. That numbers of per- sons do now ride in these races is quite clear; so numlDers ride in the Park; yet in both these cases I could pick out a few simple ones. To ride a steeple-chase well, like doing every thing else well^ certainly requires considera-? ble skill; but I cannot consider it requires by many der? grees the same skill as riding a flat race. In the latter case, horses are often so very equally matched, that the best jockey is (barring unforeseen circumstances) all but sure to win: if the talents of two jockeys are very disproporr tionedj I should say the thing was certain. Now in a steeple-race the thing is not drawn so fine. Many horses start for a steeple-race, the owners and riders of which per^ fectly vvell know, that unless some accident or mistake, or not happening to be in their best form on that day, occurs to some two or three others' horses, their own has no "GOOD NIGHT GOOD NIGHT, AND IS IT SO?" 125 earthl)^ chance: but such accidents do occur, and their horse is let go, hoping (charitably one would say) that some of these accidents would overtake the favourites. When any of these races end in a close thing, the skill of the jockey can hardly be shown: both horses are so beat that it is only how far whip and spur, and lasting, may enable one poor brute to canter in before the other. This is my objection to making steeple-races four miles: it always produces a long tailing business, occasions serious accidents, broken backs and bones, and ends in no race at all. In Ireland, at Ashbourne, and other two mi!e steeple- races, I have seen six or seven horses top the last fence nearly abreast at something like a racing pace, and really an interesting struggle take place — horses blown, I will allow, but not worn out by fatigue. Here real jockeyship is available: the horse has something left in him for the jockey to have recourse to, and head and hands are of im- portance. A considerable portion of judgment and know- led;;;e of a horse's particular powers are quite requisite in a steeple-race: numbers of those who do ride think little about this; consequently, they would be beat on very su- perior horses by first-rate riders on bad ones. Some horses, for instance, have extraordinary powers through dirt; I have generally found such horses go well up and down hill. At this game they will go a pace that would choke many others. These horses can generally go nearly the same pace from end to end; whereas in deep soil the more brilliant and faster horse has to be nursed, and must trust to speed when he gets on galloping ground. Some horses require driving at their fences; others, holding hard: some like to go at them, and will do so, in spite of you, like a steam-engine; others would be frightened if rode at them in this way: some horses, like old Vivian, will jump though dead tired; others will only do so (with any safet)^) when quite fresh (and mighty pleasant animals the latter are to ride four miles.) JNIany horses, if a litfle blown, by taking a pull at them, will recover, while others will not, but, if once distressed, put on their niirht-caps, and desire you to ^* call on them to-morrow." Geldings I have generally found recover wind sooner than stallions; 12Q "be wise in time.'' that is, when in hunting condition : when drawn fine as race-horses, the difference between them is trifling, if any. All these things must be, and are, attended to when we put a first-rate man up to ride. He has a certain stock of animal power given him at starting, and his good judgment teaches him how to husband it, so as to keep the most he can to bring him home again; but he must have a head to think and hands to do it; and as for heels, he will want a little of them too: but, if an artist, he will never use tl)em improperly, or when he can do without them. I saw some very proper remarks made lately in a Sport- ing Journal on the unfairness of the ground marked out for a steeple-chase. Now, I know many of our first-rate riders: I wish them well; and, in proof of this, tell them that if they break all their necks it serves them right. These are ail valuable men to the sporting world; — many of them valuable members of society: What bu- siness have they to go risking their necks over impro- per and unfair courses to please the gaping multitude, or in obedience to the wishes of men who would not them- selves ride over half the course for all the land it covered? If the first-rate riders were all to join and object to unfair courses, they would show their good sense, and the thing would be better arranged. Ordinary hunting fences are dangerous enough at the pace they are forced to ride at them; but to ask men to ride at fences made dangerous purposely ^ and that at a part of the race when horses are beat, is most unfair, unsportsmanlike, selfish, and cruel. If they fancy that an objection on their parts would lay them open to a charge of fear, I would ask, would any man doubt the courage of such men as the Marquis of Angle- sey, Lord Ponsonb}^, or Colonel Wyndham, should either or all of these decline a duel with muskets at six paces? Men of their established courage might refuse to face a pop-gun if they chose : so might our known steeple-chase riders refuse tq break their bones for the gratification of the public. Would any man suppose Powell, Oliver, M'Donough, and many others, did it through fear, or from any other motive than a duty they really owe to themselves, their families, and friends? I suspect those gentlemen who 50 obligingly lay out these break-neck courses would hang A SPORTING JURY. 127 back a little, if, in case of accident, they were called on to support a man crippled through their kindness. If I had the laying out steeple-race courses, I would on all occasions call in, say five known steeple-chase riders who were 770/ to ride in that particular race, and take the majority of their opinions as to the fairness of the course, or of any particu- lar fence in it. This would set the thing to rights. Nor do I consider any man ought to be allowed to mark out a course unless he be a rider himself, or would be willing to ride over it. I have heard many masters order their ser- vants to ride a horse at a fence they dare not attempt them- selves: this may be fair enough, if their fear arises from the apprehension of tumbling off; but to ask a servant to ride at a place we think too dangerous in itself to risk our own necks at, is, I humbly conceive, neither more nor less than a cowardly stretch of povv^er. If I had repeatedly put a horse at a fence, and could not get him to face it, and Oli- ver happened to be by, I might ask him (knowing him a better horseman than myself) to see what he could do. This would be all fair, and most probably he would suc- ceed: at all events, 1 will answer for him he would with perfect good humour tr}^ Half the ordinary run of men in riding at fences are forced to occupy their attention in keeping their seats: this gives them quite enough to do; consequently, steadying their horse in going to his fence, assisting him in rising at it, and, what is of quite as much importance, supporting him on landing, is out of the ques- tion. Now all this is done by a horseman: his only fear is that his horse may refuse; that his powers may not be equal to tlie fence to be got over; or that, from its extreme awkward nature, he may fall. Of himself — that is, his seat — he entejlains no concern: and I firmly believe, if Powell or Oliver wanted to go to Bath, and their horse could take off at Hyde Park Corner, clearing Windsor Castle in his way, they would consider it as pleasant a mode of transit as you could give them. Talking of seat, I cannot help mentioning an instance of perfection in this way that came under my notice when seeing Powell riding Primrose in a steeple race (a sharp- ish little mare with ten stone on her — I think in this case she carried near, if not quite, twelve.) About the middle 128 COUNTERFEIT RESEMBLANCE OP TWO BROTHERS. of the race they had to face a bullfinch, with an honest fif- teen-feet brook on the other side: but what constituted the danger was, first, the coming to it was down hill; secondl}^, the horses could not see the brook till they rose at the leap; and, thirdly, there was but one narrow penetrable place in the hedge. For this of course they would all make; and I consider, in such a case racing to iLfor lead to be one of the most dangerous manceuvres in a steeple- race. Fortunately, Powell had sufficient lead to render this unnecessary: at it he came, and over all he went: the weight told on poor Primrose, and down she came on her knees on landing. 'J'his kind of thing, hunting men know by experience, gives one about the same gentle inclination to go over one's horse's ears that a cannon ball gets from a quantum suff. charge of gunpowder. Not so, however, in this case. There sat our friend Powell as cool and erect as one of the Life Guards we see in Parliament Street, his mare as fast held, and his hands in the same place they were when galloping over the preceding meadow. Up he had her, and off before the next horse took the leap. So much for seat. To have this in perfection, and the strong- est nerv^e, are certainly both indispensable if a man m.eans to ride steeple-races, or indeed to hounds, and to ride well. This reminds me of what Tom Belcher once said to a sixteen-stone friend of mine, who thought himself pretty much of a man, and wanted to study sparring. Tom looked at him: " Well," said he, "' you're big enough, if you're good enough; but before you learn sparring, let me ask you one question — Can you bear licking? — for I don't care how good you may be, you will be sure to find some customer to make you nap it, though you may lick him." So, if a man is afraid of a fall, he has no business hunt- ing, much less steeple-racing. Still seat and nerve alone will not do. If they were the ne plus ultra of a rider, Mr. W. M'Donough would ride better than his brother; for of the two, I should say he was the boldest, or, in alluding to him, I should say the most desperate rider. Why then cannot he ride as well as the other? Why I do not say: but he cannot, and what is more, never will; and I have no doubt he is aware of it, giving him at the same PRACTICAL LESSONS. 129 time every credit for being a very superior horseman. A. M'Donough possesses certain qualifications that must always make him " deserve, when he cannot command success" — great courage, a quick eye to his own and other horses, a good judge of pace, great patience (a rare quality in a young one,) never takes more out of his horse than he can help, and never uses whip or spur without absolute occasion. I really believe some men are born horsemen. I will mention one in the person of a young man who has lately rode a good deal in England — Byrne. I think I may ven- ture to say he never was on a horse till he was twelve years old: his father was no horseman; nor did the young one ever get his riding education in a school; if he had, he would never have rode as he can. He had a love born in him for horses, and the way he made himself a horseman was this: he got leave to ride horses (not race horses) at exercise, and tumbled off till he learned to stick on ; and riding all sorts gave him hands, which he very shortly got to perfection. I know no man living who can make a perfect gentleman's hunter better than Byrne: at the same time, if I was asked whether I would as soon put him on a horse to ride a steeple-race as Oliver, Powell, and some half dozen others, I should say, no : he has not had their experience, though perhaps as horsemen there may be very little difference between them and him. But, without alluding to natural abilities, experience generally gives head: it also (but not always) gives hands; every fool has heels; and the o;reater the fool the Jess likely he is to forget it, or allow his horse to forget it either. I like to see a man ride bold and straight to hounds, but I also like to see him ride with judgment; and, as I have on a former occasion said, I am convinced, in a gene- ral vvay, the men who do ride the straightest distress their horses the least. A bold rider, and merely a hard rider are two very different people: the first, in a fair and sports- manlike way, shares the danger with his horse; in fact, risks both their lives and hmbs together like an honest fel- JQw: the other merely takes it out of his unfortunate horse where his own dearly and well-beloved neck is in no danger. I hate such a* self-loving devil, though I value my 130 A HARD RIDER. neck as much as others, and think a boy of mine was not far out in an observation he made — somcthino; like the one made by Aberneth}^ when a patient remarked that it |i;ave him great pain to raise his arm: " What a fool you must be then/' said he, '^ to raise it/' — IMy boy said nearly the satne in effect. I was hunting with Ward: this boy was on a five-year-old, quieting him to hounds. Will the Whip was on a beast of a mare they called Long Jane, and long enough, high enough, and lanky enough Long Jane was: in short, as one of the machines for boj's to practise gym- nastics upon, she would have been invaluable. Poor Will put her at a ditch, and in she went. ^' I knew thee would'st tumble in," said Will, " when I put thee at it." — " Then what a fool you must have been to have done it!" says the boy, who, by-the-by, would ride at any thing, the only difference being, he never thought he should fall, or rather his horse. I certainly have rode at many fences where I thought I stood a very fair chance of a purl; but as certainly never rode at one where, as Will said, I knew I should get it. — A hard rider is another thing. I will mention one who lived on the middle of the hill going from Egham to Englefield Green: his name I forget, but Charles Davis can vouch for the truth of my picture of the man, who always hunted with the king's harriers when Davis whipped in to his father (one of the most repectable and superior men of his standing in life I ever knew.) This said hard rider weighed about fourteen stone, and kept a miserable little pony, on which he hunted. He never was quiet. The moment a hound challenged, in went the spurs, and off he was, as if a fox was found in an open country. 1 believe he hunted the poor pon}^ to death. I met him some time afterwards, when he told me he had bought a regular hunter, and on this he appeared some time afterwards, in the person of a black galloway mare, about thirteen and a-half hands, and thin as a lath. If he rode as he did on the pony, what did he do on this supe- rior animal? He put on the steam in good earnest till she stopped. On my remonstrating with him on his cruelty, he remarked he was ^waj-s a hard rider! Now this bears me out in what I once stated in my Remarks on Cruelty, " th^t a man who was cruel to hi? horse would be HUNTING FOR THE MILLION. 131 found so in every situation in life." I was told a greater brute to a wife never existed than this hard rider. He had neither head nor hands; but he had heels, and spurs on them for his horse; and, if report says true, arms and fists, or a stick at the end of them for his wife: at any rate, he saw the end of her. I make no doubt but the generality of the hunting men of 1844 will contend that hunting never was known in such perfection as during the last twenty years. Quite younkers, I know, think that even twenty years since people knew little about doing it as they think it ought to be done: bul as to the sport their fathers enjoyed when of their age, they consider the thing must have been a bur- lesque upon hunting. These young gentlemen are a little too fast; and I maintain that hunting may be, nay, has already been, too fast. In this I am quite sure many of the best sportsmen will agree with me. It has in fact ceased to be hunting. I love both racing and hunting, but I allow myself to be no admirer of racing-hunting or hunt- ing-racing: the endeavouring to amalgamate them spoils both. Now I call it racing-hunting where hounds come at once on a fox, go off at his brush, and run into him with- out a check in twenty minutes. This I am quite willing to allow is very good fun — call it fun if you like — and I am satisfied; but no man shall tell me it \sfox-hiinfiiig. A gentleman in Warwickshire lately bought some fox- hounds: he did not attempt to say he meant fox-hunting; in fact he never tried for a fox: he avowedly hunted drags. The idea was at first a good deal ridiculed, but it seemed he knew his field and friends better than they knew them- selves, for it took wonderfully; and when they found it killed their horses, and they rarely could see the end of the run, they all declared it was inimitahle. Now if he meant this as a keen bit of satire on his friends' knowledge of hunting, he must have enjoyed the thing amazingly over his fire-side, which I dare say he did, for he knows what hunting is, and can ride. Why not then have some packs of drag-hounds kept, and make three distinct amusements, all good in their way! We might then have racing in its legitimate way, when we wish for such a treat; drag hunting, when we want a 132 A SHORT TRIAL. galloping and leaping 'bout; and hunting, for fox-hunters, instead of two mongrel amusements. What I mean by hunting-racing is, that most perfectly ridiculous custom of introducing hurdles on a race-course, and this when it ib^ not attempted to call it a hunter's stake. This is also fun^ perhaps, but certainly not racing: and if it took place at a revel among jumping in sacks and grinning through horse- collars, would be a very interesting wind-up. 1 am sorry to say that I fear we have not quite as much head as our ancestors in our system. I hate slow hunting, never liked hare-hunting; like hounds to go, and keep going; but I really do think three-quarters' speed fast enough for a hunter; that is, provided he is fast: if he is not, however good he might be in every other qualification, I would never ride him twice. I might be asked, why, if I think hounds may be bred too fast, do 1 make speed so much a sine qua non in a hunter? I will answer this by an observation on a different subject. Whenever I want a buggy-horse, I always try him, and my trial gives far less trouble than most people's, but it is one I never found fail. I first put my horse in a moderate trot — say eight miles an hour at the bottom of a moderate hill ; if he will- ingly keeps the same pace up to the top, I have seldom found him a bad mettled one: if, on the contrary, he begins^ lagging, hitching in his pace, or shuffling, 1 have had trial enough: depend on it he is a rogue or a very weak horse^ So much for gameness: for this, though no great trial, it may be said, is a pretty fair criterion to judge by. Now for pace, I always try a horse one mile: if he cannot do that with tlie most perfect ease a few seconds under four minutes, I never buy him as a regular buggy-horse for the road; a horse merely to drive in London streets, is another thing. Here showy action only is wanted. Now I do not w^ant to drive twenty miles faster than other people, but I will have fast ones, for two reasons; I do like now and then, if I find some one on the road driving at me be- cause he thinks he has a goer, to take the conceit out of him. Half a mile does this, and gets rid of him: he then leaves you to enjoy your own dust, if there is any, without the pleasing addition of his. But a far more sensible rea- son for liking a fast one is this: if he can trot at the rate "keep their heads straight, they'll all jump.'^ 133 of seventeen miles an hour, going at the rate often is play to him. So it is with a hunter: if he is fast enough to catch hounds, he can go with them without distress as to pace: if lie is not fast, and very fast, he cannot, and indeed not always even when he is. Speed I must maintain to he the first thing to look at in purchasing a hunter, or a horse to make one of; and if my friends will be kind enough to find me m speed, I will find myself in neck and jumping. Comparatively speaking, they can all jump if we choose to make them : but they cannot all go. There is not one borse in fifty, wiih the size, shape, make, and breed of a hunter, that cannot if he jjleases take any ordinary fence we meet with in crossing a country. I may be told that perhaps he may not pleasiC to do this; this is by no means impro- bable: we see this sometimes with the best of them, even with steeple-chase horses. In such a particular case, and at that particular fence, we may possibly be beat; but if he in a f^eiieral way should not please to jump, he must then put his patience and determination to the test with mine. I will answer for it, in nineteen cases out of twenty I teach him he must jump when and where I please: but I cannot make him go if there is no go in him, and it would be folly and cruelty to attempt it. Head, hands, and heels may make him a fencer, but they can't make him a g-per. We are told that hounds must now-a-days be vefy fast to kill their foxes; that "meets" being often atteleven o'clock, unless hounds get on the best possible terni's with their fox, they cannot hunt him: granted. I am afraid that something like Abernethy's reply will apply here. My Lord says, " there is so little scent, that if my hounds do not race down their fox, they cannot hunt him down, because we meet so late." Some rude fellow (like my- self,) who loves fox- h7U2 1 VI g, might say, " Then why don't you meet earlier?" Half the field would say, " We can't; we were all at Lady So-and-so's till four this morning." I know this as well os they do. 1 know they can't; at least 1 know they won't; for people now-a-days must en- joy late parties, and fox-hunting too, but not fox-hunting in perfection, unless they consider hounds racing across country perfection. If they do, it is all very well; but I really think the Warwickshire drag just as good; indeed 12 134 GOING THE PACE, better, for they would kill more horses, and that seeilis the thing by which we are to judge of the goodness of the day's sport! If a young man should be asked in the even- ing what sport he had in the morning, he would reply, if it had been what he considered good, " Capital! one of the best things this season: the horses were lying about in all directions; five died in the field; I expect to hear by to- morrow's post that mine is dead also.'^ — This would be unblushingly told to a lady, I suppose to show what a fine fellow the rider must be! Now 1 should really think this to a w^oman of a reflecting mind would be about as much recommendation as if he had slaughtered an ox, and about as much proof of the soundness of his head as of the good- ness of his heart. If a horse breaks a limb, his back, o-r his neck, hunting, it does not much matter; it is a fair ac- cident: and there's an end of him: the rider may share the same fate, and sometimes the loss to society is about equal. A horse may occasionally be killed by over-exertion, without his rider having felt him particularly distressed ; but when we find men literally boasting of the number of horses killed by themselves and their friends, I am inclined to think the heels have been more at work than the head. When I state that I consider hounds may be bred too fast, I do not mean it solely in allusion to its requiring greater speed and exertion on the part of the horses, but that I consider it spoils hunting. We may naturally infer, that when a man keeps or undertakes the management oi a pack of foxhounds, he is a judge of fox-hunting; and, as I iiave before said, I doubt not but some of these gentle- men, if left to their own inclinations, would like a little more real liunting tl-^an fashion allows: but those who keep hounds wish to please their friends; they have also a very pardonable, nay proper pride in hearing the pack con- sidered a crack one, and this they would not be, though they might kill their fox, or a brace a-day, unless they ac- tually coursed him: hunting up to him would not do. So the master goes with the tide; he is master of the hounds; but fashion is the master of him. One who only manages a pack must of course please his members, or where is the cash? That, in keeping foxhounds, goes pretty fast too: so the hounds must go the devil's pace to catch that. I A BARONET. 135 venture a hope, that though I do think it is quite possible hounds may be too fast, my brother sportsmen will not think that I am too slow, for I like fast ones, in men, horses, or dogs; but my countryman, John Bull, never seems to know any medium; and for this I can in no way account: his temperament is by no means enthusiastic in any way; yet, where fasliion leads him, he always goes " the whole hog," and is never satisfied with what is rea- sonable. At present, nothing can be fast enough: but I should not be surprised if ten years hence our young sprigs of fashion voted the exertion of going fast a bore; and, if they did, we should see them hunting in George the Fourth's pony phaetons. I should then be held as a savage; a kind of ()jibbe\vay, inadmissible, because I like hounds to go as fast as any fair hunter can carry me, but at the same time letting the pace be such as I can see hounds work — a thing I am quite sure many hunting men do not care about one farthing. Fox-hunters used to decry coursers, " the mean murdering coursing crew," but now they bring fox-hunt- ing as near coursing as they can. I have said that going out late produces the necessity of having very fast hounds: so it does to a certain degree: but this is not the " be all and the end all here:" fashion is the prbniitn mobile of the thing, and a certain little, and it is a little^ feeling among our high-flyers adds to it. For instance: I was travelling a few w*eeks since in one of those old-fashioned vehicles we have heard of, a four-horse coach. In it got as hard-favoured hirsute-looking homo as one would wish to see in the smiling month of April. They called him Sir Thomas. 0, thinks I, judging from his appearance, a deputy from the king of the Cannibal Islands, knighted for bringing a caudle cup made of a hu- man skull: but 1 was quite wrong, as I found afterwards. However, not having the fear of the baronet before my eyes, we got on very well together — that is, neither open- ing our mouths for the first twelve miles. " At length he spoke:" we got better acquainted; and at a certain part of the journey I ventured a feeler, by saying it looked like a good hunting country — and, I assert, a good hunting coun- try it looked — undulating, but not hilly, fair fences, large enclosures, and, judging from the foot-marks of cattle anci 136 THE RIGHT SORT IN MAN OR HOUND. tracks of wheels, seemed as if it had carried sound during winter. But my hirsute companion differed from me, say- ing he knew the country well, and had hunted every inch of it: it was the worst country he ever rode over. I asked, "Why? was it a bad-scenting country, or were foxes scarce?" He said, -'* Neither: but the foxes were apt to run rings: it rode light, and as the fences were not particularly strong, every fellow could get along, and it was a serious annoyance, on 200 guinea horses, to find a pack of farmers et cetera riding with one." This, it seemed, was the only charge he could bring against the country. Well, thinks I, you're an ugly devil to look at, that's poz, and from your speech 1 suspect not the best fellow in the vs^orld to know. So, because a man might not, like him, be able to keep a dozen hunters worth two hundred guineas each, yet w^as fond of hunting, this hairy bit of aristo- cracy sets up his bristles, because he cannot shake him off. I'll answer for it he is a selfish, overbearing savage. Now, I tell you what, Ursa Major, I shrewdly suspect the fault did not lie in the country or the nags, but that you found a few honest fellows, who took the unwarrantable liberty of riding as well, or a little better than yourself, and that perhaps over some of their own land, where they were so unmannerly as to " come between the wind and your no- bility," even on horses of less value. How I should like to mortify the devil by picking out some forty pound hack- looking rum-'un, and having a turn at him. 1 know no- thing of what sort of workman he may be; probably much better than myself; but as he is neither lighter, younger, nor 'much handsomer, if I ever do meet him with hounds, I'll have a twist with him, even without picking a nag for the express purpose. I mention this anecdote, because it just dove-tails with a shrewd suspicion I have often entertained, that the fashion- able ha])it of calling every run a bore that is not racing arises in some measure from the same feeling of selfishness and vanity demonstrated in Sir Hairy Headpiece. This is a very distinct sort of feeling from that which emanates from a good-natured contest with and among brother sportsmen during a run, or from that of a high-spirited young-' un, who, in the enthusiasm of youth, would say, PUPPIES. 137 "Now only give me the right sort of countr}^, and I'll show you the way." 1 would clap him on the back, as I would a young hound that had a little too much devil in him, and say, ^* You'll be one of the right sort when you know a little more: sail away, my fine fellow, and may the winds be prosperous for your voyage through life!" Young hounds and young sportsmen should both have a little too much dash about them at first; nor do I object to see both ready for mischief when it only proceeds from mettle and high blood. A little rating will perhaps set both right: if not, the whipper-in very soon will the one, and a few falls the other; the breed is right in both. A true fox-hunter and sportsman is no doubt in a gene- ral way, however perfect a gentleman he may be, as far removed from an effectual fop as two separate things can be: yet I have seen among men who ride hunting a very fair sprinkling of the latter, and it is chiefly among these that we hear the complaint that the run is never fast enough or severe enough to please them, insinuating by this that both themselves and their horses are so superior that what is great to others is bagatelle to them. You will hear such chrysali pretending to abuse their horse: if he happens to put down his head, they will give him a rap across the ears with their whip, with " hold up, brute," to show how little they think of 300/.; or, "come up, you old cripple;" or, after a brilliant run, " my old screw went like bricks to- day." These are the sort of gentry that had better stay at home, instead of the farmers; that is, so long as the lat- ter conduct themselves inoffensively. The sort of men I allude to are pests to Masters of Hounds: they are always doing some harm, and don't know how to do good. It is quite proper that Almack's or a drawing-room should both be exclusive. But fox-hunting is intended for fox-hunters, be they who they may, so long as they conduct themselves like sportsmen in their several grades of life: yet I am aware there is an esprit du corps among a certain clique that would, if it could, render fox-hunting exclusive also. But in this clique you would never find such names as Dar- lington, Alvanley, Kinnaird. Drumlanrig, Wilton, Howth, IVlaidstonc, Forester, Wyndham, Smith, Oliver, Peel, and a hundred other light and welter weigiits: these are really 12* 138 REAL BORES. horsemen and sportsmen: they go the pace, it is true, and an awful pace they do go; and why? because they must do so to be in their place, and in their place they will be: but it does not follow that they would not like, by way of variety, to sometimes see a little more hunting and less racing, and would candidly confess they sometimes find the pace a lettle stronger than is convenient. They would not be afraid to say so, knowing themselves and their nags to be ne plus ultras; the ephemeri would. I would quite agree in wishing the pace and country to be such as to get rid of the " Pray-catch-my-horse " sort of gentry : they are a real nuisance; therefoi-e it is quite fair to wish to shake them off. If these good people could ride in bal- loons over one's head, it would be all very well, and I for one should be glad to see them enjoy themselves: they would then be out of the way. In chase, let every one take care of himself, as the bull said when he danced among the frogs. If you cannot make your own wa}', do not at all events get in the way of those who can, which these folks always do. Hunting being but an amusement, of course every man has a right to ride as he pleases, pro- vided he does not interfere with his neighbour. If a man chooses to butcher his horse, he may do so, if he neither rides over hounds nor induces them to overrun the scent. So have the slow coaches as great a rigiU to help each other out of all the ditches in Christendom if they like, or to carry a lasso to catch each other's horse — (I wonder they never thought of this) — provided they do not make landowners angry by riding over turnips, wheat, or clover leys to make up lost ground, or herd together in perhaps the only practicable part of a fence, exerting their custo- mary benevolence to each other, all of which they invaria- bly do. The pace and country I should like would be just such as to make it necessary for a man to ride bold and straight, or go home, but still to be such as to allow a fox advantage enough to give hounds at times some work to get at him. By work, I mean nose work. Without this, I must say I consider a great deal of the zest, anxiety, and beauty of hunting is lost; that is, to a man who enjoys see- ing hounds, and seeing them hunt; and dearlj^ I love a fox-hound. SPREES GOOD, BETTER, AND BEST. 139 If I was asked, whether I did not consider fifty men well mounted sett lug each other across a certahi distance of country a good sjDree, I should of course say it was; and if there were no hounds to be got at, I should join in it. Doing this with a drag would be a far better spree; and really if hounds after a fox are only to race across country, it brings hunting merely to spree the third and best. I have, in speaking of the pace hounds now go, made use of the terms noiv and noiv-a-days: in doing so, I m.ean it in reference to what I have heard they did perhaps fifty years ago; for I am not aware they go faster than they al- ways have gone since I first hunted. I am quite clear that I never saw as good real hunting as my ancestors did. I have seen bolder and better riding most decidedly: but as to hunting, I have seen more of that in one week's cub-hunting than in a whole season's regular hunting; and I fancy 1 really do know what hunting means. At all events, 1 was blooded when only seven years old. It may be said that practice never improves some people: this may be my case; if it is, I can't help it. Let us suppose hounds to have been streaming away a burst of four or five miles, have come to a check, and the huntsman not at the moment up with them. On his get- ting to them, it would be of the first importance to him to know what hound or hounds were leading, or rather had been. If it were some particular hounds, he would know to all but a certainty that so far his fox had come; and on making a cast forward, they would hit it olT again. If, on the contrary, the leading hounds were wildish ones, and such as (when assisted by wild riders) he could not quite trust, he would then have to judge for himself, and then head comes in request. Now I will venture to say, that ask three-fourths of the field as to which or what hounds had brought on the scent to a given s])ot, they had no more looked at the hounds than they had at the heavens. How should they? 1 hey had been attending to their horses, looking how Lord Such-a-one and the JNIessrs. So-and-so ivcnt: this had given them plenty of work for head, hands, and Jieels — with some perhaps the two latter having been most employed. As to the hounds, whether they had been running riot, heel, or hare, they knew not, and cared not 140 "morgan rattler." so long as they kept going. Are such fox-hunters? No; but I will mention an anecdote of one who was. I was out with the Old Berkeley; the hounds had been going a killing pace, the huntsman beat. Mr. M , as bold a rider as ever faced a fence, was, as usual, up with them. We came to a check: "hold hard! hold hard!" cries M — : "give them room." Several hounds spoke: not a word of encouragement from M — . At last a couple on the other side of the hedge opened. "Yoicks, Rival, and Rory!" cries M-^; "that's it." Over he went with a screech that made the country ring agnin, capping them on, and riding like mad. In a few fields we ran in to our fox Who-whoop! This was something like the thing, and 710 mistake/ And now as to pace so far as it relates to horses. "It is the pace that kills," said Meynell, and he was right. I know what fast, veri/ fast horses are, my weight enabling me to ride thoroughbred ones: but even blood is to be distressed, and I must say I always feel that when distress comes on, pleasure goes off. Some do not think so; but of such perhaps the less we say the better. Having hitherto complimented the Ae^/f/ and hands quite sufficiently, I am quite ready to allow the heels their fair share; and so useful do I think them, wlien controlled by the head and actiuij; in concert with the hands, ihat when on horseback 1 consider they should in most cases have a pair of spurs attached to them. The only difference of opinion between myself and soine others of their utility consists in this, they begin to use them most when I con- sider they ought not to be used al all, namely, when their horse is beat. I consider spurs should be worn for more reasons than I shall now specify: but of these I will men- tion a few. Many horses, I think indeed the generality of them, go livelier and safer when tliey are aware we have ^ spurs on: it keeps them on the qui vive, and frequently prevents them attempting to do wrong, knowing we have so ready a mode of punishment at hand, or rather at heel. If we want an unlooked-for and momentary exertion made, nothing produces it like the spurs. If a horse becomes re- fractory, we probably (nay certainly) want both hands for our reins: Vv^hat could wc (]o in this case without spurs? A VERY SENSIBLE MARE. 141 With a horse which is apt to swerve at his fences, we can- not so well keep him straight with one hand while we use the whip with the other: here the spurs must come into use, and in such a case, cork him tight, and that with a pair of Latchford's best. Still this would not do in all cases. I can mention one. I had a mare, as fine a fencer as ever was ridden, but a little nervous in facing any thing that looked unusually big and thick. I could always tell a hundred yards before 1 came to it if she was frightened. In this case I just took a gentle pull at her, spoke to her, or gave her a pat on the neck, and over she went to a certainty. -'Instead of this," but touch her with a spur, she would stop dead, and kick a town down. For this reason I never rode her with spurs. This is, however, a case of rare occurrence, though some race-horses will do nothing if they know you have spurs on, and are forced to be ridden without. The mare I al- lude to had several times sent her late master over her head: she was always a little fidgety on being mounted; but after I had given her a gentle kick or two with my heels, and she found no spurs were in the case, she became perfectly quiet, and one of the pleasantest hunters living. Spurs are at times to be made the means of assisting a horse, in deep ground particularly: bring your horse's nose a little closer to his chest, touch him lightly with the spurs, and he collects himself directly, shortens his stride, and gets through dirt with half the labour he would otherwise do. In short, spurs judiciously used are a hint to a horse as to what we want him to do, a means of making him do it, and a very proper and severe punishment when he re- fuses to do this, or at all events to try. But as I think we ought not to wish him to go when in a state unfit to go, though I do not presume to dictate to others, I shall con- tinue my old practice of keeping my spurs quiet just when many others begin making the most use of theirs. 1 may be wrong, but I am sure my horses have never thought so; and as I always make them do what is right to please me, I think it but fair I should sometimes do what is just to please them, or, to say the least, not to abuse them. I recollect reading of some student, having an author to translate whose writing was somewhat difficult to turn 142 MATIERE EMBROUILLE. into English from his peculiar idioms; so whenever he came to a passage he could not perfectly comprehend, he always made a marginal note to this effect, " raaiiere ern- hrouilley I shall esteem myself particularly favoured, if, on reading these sheets of" Heads, Hands, and Heels," the reader does not make the same note on the whole: but different ideas have struck me as I got along, and in my harumscarum omnium gatherum, way I have traversed a much wider field than I ever contemplated entering. Ha- ving, however, got so Air in the mire, I may as well plunge a little farther, and try to get out with as little detriment to myself or the patience of the reader as I possibly can. I have ventured my crude ideas on colt-breeders, break- ers, trainers, jockeys, stable-boys, huntsmen, gentlemen, and I know not who besides — a something about racing, and hounds and hunting — and also of riding hunting, which I know is rather a dangerous subject to treat upon: but as I am seldom personal in my remarks, I trust I as seldom give offence; and this imboldens me, after having ventured some hints on riding, to risk one more on the subject of the kind of horse to ride— 1 mean with hounds. From the days when men went hunting on demi-peak saddles, not merely with cruppers, but a light breeching, their horses' tails in a club, and a large single-headed curb bit, to the year 1750 — when our good grandpapas went out at four in the morning enpapillotes with overall worsted stockings — any thing like a thorough-bred horse as a hun- ter was never even thought of; and indeed until within the last twenty years the hunter and the race horse were con- sidered as distinct from each other as two valuable animals of the same species could well be. In fact, in those days — I need go no farther back than fifty years — the qualities of the thorough-bred horse were not called for in the hun- ter, at least they were not indispensable, as they now are; but such is my predilection in favour of blood, that though hounds did not go the pace fifty years since they do now, I feel satisfied that at the pace they did then go our ances- tors would have been much better carried by highly-bred horses than they were by the kind of horse they then rode. If hounds went fast, the nearly or quite thorough-bred one could do the thing; if they did not, he would have carried "CATCH HIM WHO CAN." 143 them with the greater ease. 1 am quite aware that it would be very difficult indeed to get thorough-bred ones equal to some men's weight. If a man is only fit to be moved on a timber-carriage he must judge for himself; but I really think any moderate weight may, if he selects them properly, and gives money enough, find horses all but, if not quite, thorough-bred that can carry him. In proof of what blood will do, f will mention one instance, and, as it occurred with a horse of my own, I can vouch for its authenticity. A friend of mine, who was an honest sixteen stone in his saddle, had sent his hunter to my house to hunt the next day, and came himself by coach, I engaging to lend him a hack to ride to covert. I had just bought a very neat thorough-bred horse that had been running, four years old; him I had ordered to be saddled for myself, and a very fair useful kind of hunter that I drove in my buggy, being a bit of a trotter, for my friend. However, more from joke than any thing else, he would mount the tho- rough-bred. Having but six miles to go, this did not mat- ter; but on coming to the meet, our horses were not there: ni}^ friend's groom being a stranger, and the boy who took my horse having lately come to me, they had mistaken the meet. This w^e did not know, so expected momentarily their arrival. The hounds found immediately, and went off; when to my utter dismay, off went my friend on my little bit of blood, and though I conclude he had never seen a fence, 1 can only say, having got the start of me, with all the exertion 1 could make over four miles of fair coun- try, I never could catch him. It is true he had a man on him who would drive a horse either through, in, or over any thing; but to see one that I should never have thought of hunting with my weight going such a bat with sixteen stone satisfied me what blood will do. I do not mean to say the horse could have carried him as a hunter j but he had had such a specimen of the little one's game and powers, that he bought and constantly rode him hack; and when I saw him two years afterwards, he had not a windgall on any leg. I should have thought our ancestors had a tolerable in- sight into the weight race-horses can carry when they saw 144 AN EMBRYO HUNTER. the Beacon Course run over by one carrying eighteen stone in not above a n)inute and a half more than it usually takes to do it with elg/it; some people, having heard of such things, are apt to carry them too far, and, when told what blood will do, go and buy some weedy bad-constitutioned wretch, and then are surprised that he cannot carry them as a hunter. Now a horse may not be worth one farthing as a race-horse, and become first-rate as a hunter: but then his not racing must not proceed from any other cause than want of speed. If from naturally bad temper, or bad con- stitution, he shuts up as a race-horse, so he will as a hunter. I am aware, that unless we breed them it is not an easy matter to get a thorough-bred horse likely to make a hunter; still they are to be had. A good made strengthy thorough-bred colt may be tried as a two-year-old, and found wanting in speed; m.ay again be tried at three years, and fail again: he may then be still held over in the hope that when he had nearly done growing he might make a valuable Cup-horse, and thus persevered with till five years old, occasionally beating still worse than himself, so as just to delude his owner, which such horses usually do, master all along paying the piper, whose music is not had, as Pad- dy says, " for less than nothing." Now this is just the sort of nag I should look out for as a hunter — handsome^ good constitution, good temper, possessing all we want in a race-horse except the chief thing — speed. There is re-^ ally magic in that little word speed: it does every things from the "terrible-terrible-high-bred-cattle-gentleman," to^ the " gee-wo" horse. Yes, reader, the cart-horse should have speed; that is, speed as a cart-horse. I have had a turn at these sort of gentlemen; have had twelve eating my hay and oats, and have learned that pace in their walk, makes a difference to the farmer. Defend me from a bell- team — I do not mean belle, but a team that carries bells: — they will condescend to walk two miles and a half an hour, four horses drawing two tons: they look well; so does a footman six-feet-two without his shoes; and in point of real utility they are about on a par, except to be equally pampered, and are both too aristocratic to hurry them- selves. But speaking of things that really are, or rather were^^ A CHASE WITH MUSICAL ACCOMPANIMENT. 145 speedy, among my other speedy possessions (many of them, '^ heu mlfii^^ too speedy in their exit^) I had once aspeed)^ donkey, and the way I became possessed of Jack is rather curious. I was riding, and on a sudden heard a pattering offset behind me, accompanied by, I think, the most dis- cordant, all-horrible, all-monstrous, all-prodigious, unearthly noise I ever heard. On looking back, 1 found this conca- tenation of sweet sounds proceeded from a jackass at full speed, accompanied by that amiable companion for an evening's ramble, a very large bull-dog, also in full career. They passed me. I believe I have seen hunting in all shapes, but this was something new; so I determined to see the end of the chase. Jack, how^ever, soon left Bully far behind, and 1 suppose he thought he had also left all his troubles there: but he found (as many a good man has done) that troubles hang most cursedly on a scent; and if one actually comes to a fault, some other hits it off, and '^at's you again." This was the case with Jack; for no sooner had he shaken off Bully, than the running was taken up by a young fox-hound at his walk at a farm-house — so much for the good hounds learn at walk, on which I may perhaps at some future time venture a hint or two. How- ever, such was really Jack's powers of going, that he also beat young sorrows-to-come into the bargain, and made good his way to his master's cottage. After a good mile heat at a pace that quite prepared my nag for a sweat on the morrow, had I intended to give him one. I made up my mind at once to buy Jack, for I saw some fun in him. Now it was not that he was handsome, nor could I judge of his amiability or utility, but as Moore says, " Oh 'twas a something more exquisite still !" That Jack could go, my horse could swear; that he ought to go, the Filho-da-Puta length of his quarters satisfied me; but independently of all that, there was a kind of derisive catch-if-you-can twist and twirl of his tail while he was going, that was irresistible. Seeing me well mounted, the cottager, I suppose, considered a guinea or two, more or less, was no object to me {Mem. he did not know me;) so he succeeded in diddling me out of three guineas for Jack, 13 146 A SELL. (just three times what he would have sold him for iri it common way, and have given the Filho-da-Puta quarters and knowing twist of his tail into the bargain,) nor would he then send Jack to my house without the proriiise of a gallon of beer. I have no doubt the whole family at the cottage thought a good deal of business had been done in a short time — they had sold one ass and found another. 1 Was right after all; and neither Jack nor I had so much of the ass in us as we looked to have. I put Jack into posi^ tive training; first, in order to see what difference could be made in the animal by such treatment; and, secondly, meaning to astonish the natives at a revel in a village close by with my newly purchased racer. He trained on won- derfully, and I found, that however thistles may he consi-- dered by these gentry as a bonne bouc/ie, oats made a great change in appearance and spirits. One day, however, I conclude the boy had giv^en him a little more in the gal- loping way than Jack approved, for he sent up his heels^ put down his head, and over it the boy came. Jaok most uncourteously left without taking leave, and came home at apace that said "Swaffham forever!" Some friends dined with me next day, and our conversation about two horses they had ridden to my house ended in my taking the shine out of them, by saying, I had a jackass, that, give him two hundred yards, should beat either of their horses a mile next day. This put them on their mettle, and the bet ran thus — if they beat. Jack W\^s theirs: if Jack beat, they en- gaged to give a ten pound note for him. Jack vvas treated next morning to two runs home loose, pursued by a man on horseback smacking a good sounding hunting-whip after him. In the afternoon my friends came, and we went to the place of starting. Jack knew it well Now my friends expected the boy who rode him up to the start Would also ride him home. No such thing: his saddle was taken off": the bridle (made ready) at the word "go " was slipped off, and, as before, away came Jack, giving the immortal twirl of the tail, and an occasional kick uj), with an accompani- ment not to be mentioned to ears polite. I do not think they gained twenty yards on him. I must allow they both laughed too heartily all the way to do their best; but if they had, the}' could not have caught him. I pocketed my note. " THE HIGH-METTLFD RACEB's A HACK," ETC. ETC. 147 and they made a note, not too much to underrate donkey- speed in future. 1 hope my reader is interested enough in Jack to wish to know what was his after-fate. I can only give this much of it: my friends gave him to a friend to carry his son; but I am sorry to say, Jack, Hke many people, did not know when he was well off, for after pitching little master over his head, he was sold to a travelling tinker: it was then with my racer Jack, as it often is with many another crack — '^ Bellows to mend." Let us now return to the cup-horse I said I should be inclined to purchase as a hunter. Having made no figure as a two, or three, or four years old among first-rate horses, por at five having done enough to warrant his being kept as a useful second-rater, no doubt his master will be willing enough to do what he ought to have done two years before, sell him for the best price he could get. In this way a really fine five-year old horse may often be got at fifty pounds less than he could have been bred for. But the purchaser must not of course think he has bought a hunter. He might as vvell suppose, because he had bought the pro- per quantity of cloth, that he had got a coat; he must get the tailor: so for the horse, we must get the horseman, with heads, hands, and heels, to make the hunter; upon these will the perfection of the coat and the hunter depend. I have heard persons say that thorough-bred horses were seldom good leapeps: how in the name of common sense should they be? they have never been taught to be so. Tl)ey can, like all animals, jump if they please in a wild way; but to do it safely, coolly, and scientifically, must be taught them. They can jump well enough, high and wide enough for any thing they want in a state of nature: but to take all kinds of artificial fences vv^ell is a perfection to be learnt. Of course no race-horse knows any thing about it: he has been placed in situations where he never was per- mitted to attempt to jump, nor as long as he continues a race-horse will he ever be. I dare say neither Bee's-wing nor Catherina would take a common hurdle with a man on their back willingly; nor would Bran, or Ratcatcher, or Sir Hercules: but supposing the three latter were not as racers vvhat they were, had 1 beepi fortunate enough to have 148 SALUTARY LESSONS. got them, I rather think, that after I had had them six months, I could on them with hounds have been there or thereabouts. So far from being thorough-bred militating against a horse being a fencer, I maintain it to be a great point in his favour. Thorough-bred horses are generally better made for spring and propelling powers in their quar- ters than other horses. This is just what we want to make a leaper; their only fault is one that a little judgment and patience will rectif}^, the want of having been taught. The great requisites for a hunter are speed, spring, wind, and durability: all these the thorough-bred possesses beyond all comparison in greater perfection than other horses. Why, then, should they not make hunters? Only, as 1 be- fore said, get them strong enough. Seventy-four knew nothing of fencing when he was first put to steeple-racing, and I believe was particularly awkward at it; but he learned to jump afterwards; so they will all with practice. I do not mean practice with hounds: this, till he knows some- thing about it, I consider the worst practice a young horse can have. He is in a hurry, and the rider is in a hurry; consequently the thing is done in a hurried and slovenly manner, if done at all; and at best he only gets over some- how. One month's practice, taking the horse out with another, where you can pick proper fences for him, and bring him on from one thing to another, will teach him more than six months with hounds. They need not be large ones either: the horse, after having been taught to jump coolly and to a certainty eight or nine feet of water, will afterwards, when excited with hounds, jump fifteen; if he does not, I fear the fault will be in the rider, not the horse. I have seen a good round number of falls with hounds, and have had enough myself to satisfy any reasonable man. I speak, therefore, from observation and practice, when I assert, that where one fall occurs from large spreading fences (if within the bounds of reason,) twenty take place at blind awkward small ones. It is to teach the horse how to manage these that requires practice, and this it would take a very considerable time to teach him with hounds. We may in the course of a run come to a fence where the ditch is so filled by briers as to be all but imperceptible: ANCIENT LAWS AND iVIODEllN LAWS. 149 we ride him at it; most probably he gets over, but he has gained no lesson or experience by this; he is not aware he has escaped a trap: but if we had taken him out, we will say shooting (and nothing makes a fencer sooner,) he would probably have been led over twenty such in the course of the morning, for 1 would look out for such for him; he would perhaps have blundered into three or four; and, find- ing a bed of brambles and thorns is not a bed of roses, that one day would make him careful of such for life; and so on with other descriptions of difficult places. Fair hunting fences he will of course be rode over; and doing these when he has nothing to distract his attention from his bu- siness — which is the leap — will teach him to do them pro- perly, and that in a very short time. Once taught to do this, he is a hunter for ever, and a master of his business. Of all things, timber is what a horse should be made the most perfect in taking, and get the most practice at; first, because a mistake at stiff' timber is more fatal in its conse- quences than at any other fence; and, secondly, it is a de- scription of one that requires on the part of a horse exer- tions the least natural to him. Brooks or dry ravines are things he would meet with in a state of nature. If gallop- ing in a v/ild state he would come to one of these, and was excited, he would as naturally extend his stride or bound to twenty feet as he had taken twelve in his gallop; but timber is quite a different affair. Dame Nature, capital workwoman she is in making an oak tree or an heir to an estate, never made a five-barred gate in her existence; con- sequently she never gave a horse an idea of jumping one. in practising horses at a leaping-bar, 1 have often been astonished at the absurdities and wanton severity I have seen used. It is very common to see a naked bar so ad- justed as to fall in case a horse should hit it. Now this is the very time when it should be immovable: the allowing a bar to give way will spoil all the horses in the world: if he is a young or unpractised one, we are positively teach- ing him to knock down or attempt to knock down timber whenever he sees it, instead of clearing it. How is a horse to know we want him to jump over what he finds it easier to knock down? And then, if he does knock it down, he is often severel}^ flogged for what he does not know is la"" 150 LESSONS FOR BEGINNERS. wrong. A bar should be well clothed with furze: this teaches a horse it is not to be touched with impunity: it should then be confined so as in one respect to be like the law of the Medes and Persians, not to be moved ; while in another it should, like some laws near home, be left so as to be rolled backwards or forwards, just as may suit the will of the higher powers. But though it may do this, let a horse get once hung on it, he would as soon be hung as get there again, when he has been taught how to avoid it; for before he can get off again, he Vv^ill be in the situation I well know you are in a suit of chancery, where, though you gain your cause, you are ver}^ comfortably skinned be- fore )'ou do so. People will put a bar up perhaps three feet high, and say "he can jump that if lie can jump any thing." We know that; but at first he cannot jump any thing in height, at least he does not know that he can, never having probably tried ; so, as to him, it seems an im- passable barrier: he naturally enough does not try: but he tries to shove it down; if it gives way, he is spoiled; if not, he is flogged because he does not do what he does not know how to set about doing. He then probably turns sulky, and kicks at you: then he gets flogged for that; so he gets twice flogged, as boys often do at cheap schools, from the ignorance of his tutor. If the horse never saw a bar before, lay it on the ground — yes, positively on the ground, you will see he will make a jump even at that: probably that would have carried him over two feet. He has already learned two things at this one jump; namely, that by jump- ing he gets over the obstacle, and that he can jump two feet high: this even he did not know before: raise it six inches, he will take it next time at that height: let him do that two or three times, caress him, and send him away: he has done enough for his first lesson, and has learned a good deal. Put it on the ground again next day; you are sure he will not refuse that: then again the six inches; then a foot, and so on: he will take three feet in a week, and very shortly the height of a gate. Another may at the end of a fortnight have been driven and flogged over as great or a greater height than mine has taken; but if he has, I will answer for it he has sometimes jumped it, some- times tumbled over it; and very often refused it. He has HORSEMEN NOT WANTED AT THE BAR. 151 only learned, that by making a kind of effort of some sort, he can sometimes get over his leap, and sometimes tumble over it: mine has got his lesson perfectly; knows how to set about the thing scientifically; feels and knows, by very moderate exertion, he can do the thing to a certainty; is not afraid of it; so never refuses it, either from want of confidence in his own powers, or from having been dis- gusted with leaping from its having been made a punish- ment to him. People generally make a horse jump too often over the same thing: this farther disgusts him: when he has acquitted himself well, leave off; otherwise you tire and put him out of humour. I have heard people give as a reason for having leaping- bars made to go down, that they do it for the safety of the •' man." This would be all very well if bars were intended for men to ride over; but they are not: they are only in- tended to teach young horses the rudiments of leaping in hand. If you wish to show how a horse will carry over a fence, take him to a proper place, and there ride at hedges, ditches, hurdles, or gates, as you please, and leave the bar in the school-room. A young horse left to the tuition of a groom seldom makes a neat and perfect fencer: they drive horses over their fences; this causes them to rush headlong at them; by doing which they either blunder into them, or do, what is almost as bad, take twice as much out of themselves as they have any occasion to do. This soon beats them, and then they cannot, if they would, jump high or wide enough. A horse, in taking his spring, should be taught to do in the field what his master should do after dinner — take enough, and not too much: doing the reverse will tell on both in time. It is all very well to say that some men, like the friend I mentioned on my thorough-bred, will drive a horse in, through, or over any thing; this will do, and is quite pro- per with a horse who knows how to do his business, but will shirk it if he can; but it will not do with a young one. If an old offender, who, from sheer roguishness, vvill swerve or balk his fences if he can, keep an ash-plant between his ears that you have taught him will visit one or other side of his nose, according to tlie side he swerves to; send him at it so as to persuade him he must go in, if he does not go 152 HANDS, ^EEJ,S, AND HEADS. over: if Tie should choose the former, which is very un- likely under such circumstances, afford him no assistance to get out till you have given him a good thrashing while in: he got into the scrape from laziness or roguishness, and deserves all he gets. Strongly as I at all times advocate the greatest kindness to horses, I can be as severe as any body with a lazy or badly-disposed one, and can bring both hands and heels into pretty free use; but I hope I always use some head in considering whether a refusal of my wishes proceeds from ignorance or inability, or from other causes: too many, I fear, suffer when the former is the case. While writing these wandering observfitions, the heels have had a sinecure. I have made considerable use of the hands, and some, though perhaps very indifferent, use of the head. I shall, however, now use the latter for a pur- pose to which, perhaps, my reader may say I ought to have (levoted it long ago — making my bow. 153 HINTS ON HORSE-DEALERS AND DEALERS IN HORSES. Qui capit ille facit. — Old Proverb. That readers should attach credence or give attention to the observations, opinions, or facts promulgated by any writer, it is necessary, or, to say the least, quite desirable, that they should be impressed with the opinion that he is quite conversant with the subject or subjects on which he writes. That I am so, I must earnestl}' but very respect- fully beg the public to lake my word: that I am equally competent to write upon such subjects is quite another matter: I am perfectly satisfied I am not. Still this will not render what I write one atoni of less utility. Facts are still facts, however homely may be the language in which they are set forth; and if the public derives any ad- vantage from those facts being set forth, the end will be just as well attained as if they were clothed in the most erudite or poetic language that inspiration could suggest. Before any one can be capable of guarding others against errors and impositions, he must first make himself perfectly master of in what those errors consist, and how the impo- sition is practised. To guard others against errors, expe- rience in the cases where those errors are committed will suffice: but to detect the means by which impositions are practised, it becomes necessary to get among those who practise them; to place yourself by some means in situations where you can hear their private conversations, get inti- mately acquainted with the tools or means emplo^-ed, and perfectly learn how those tools are made use of: then, and not till then, is any one qualified to j^ive beneficial hints and advice to others. How or why I have placed myself in situations to have seen so muclt of the subjects of these hints and observations, matters nothing to the public: suilice it to sa}^, I have seen them much, and now offer the results of such observations to others, to whom I shall only say. 154 ^^IF you MQUE WOULD ASK, J SHUN NO QUESTIONS." " Si quid novisti rectius istis Candidus imperii, si non his utere mecum, There is no nation in Europe where the horse is made an object of so mucii importance as in England j conse^ quently Englishmen are, taking them in the aggregate, the best judges of horses in Europe. Most of our nobility and men of fortune are so, and English horses are now be-^ come, taking them in all the various purposes to which they are applied, unquestionably the best in the world. 'I'he Arab is certainly as particular in the breed of his horse Hnd in the care o^ him, as we are here; but his attention and care are directed to one particular description of horse, and he knows of no other; it is left for England to pro- duce horses all bred for, and adapted to, their various pur- jiuses, and each of his own class the finest animal in the world. Horses for draught, for the road, and for the turf have been bred among other nations, and for these purposes animals have been produced of a moderate quality. But the Leicestershire hunter has been till within a few years description of horse confined to the United Kingdom: here he has hitherto reigned unattempted to be rivalled j for here, and here only, has fox-hunting appeared in the ^enith of its glory. Haifa century ago a foreigner had nQ conception such a description of animal existed. The case is now altering very fast, and the spirit of racing, hunting, and even steeple-racing, is becoming widely diffused among some of our foreign neighbours, Four-in-hand, however, still remains among them a complete stutnbling-block; and a foreigner is generally about as good a judge of a well ap- pointed mail, with its four blood horses, as I should be of a Ceylon elephant with his howdah. He likes la parade of four horses to his carriage as well as we do; but here his gratification ends: that there should be any in driving then> does not come within his conception. He would consider |t an ungentlemanlike thing to dp, and it would be so in his country, where it is not the custom of men of fashion tp {\q it. Here, to be a first-rate four-in-hand whip is in a li- mited sense held all but an accomplishment. This arises in a great measure from the circumstance that to become so a man must be or have been either a man of fortune or a stage-coachman. His not being or having been the lat- A HINT. 155 ter, leads to llie inference that he is or has been the former. Hunting and the turf are also the pursuits of men of fortune. That most senseless and unsportsmanlike amusement, Steeple-racing, is, I am sorry to say, becoming so< No men carry out the axiom, "that whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well," more than the English do in all sporting pursuits. The four-in-hand rage brought out among gentlemen some of the best coachmen in the world. Hunting, particularly in Leicestershire, has produced amon;i; our aristocracy many such Capital workmen across a country as to enable them to equal sonie of our professional artists in a steeple-race. Racing would probably produce the same results, but that the light weights nece.ssary to this amusement constantly require deprivation and exertion to attain that few gentlemen are found willing to submit to. Now all these pursuits undoubtedly render those who participate in them iirst-rate judges of the qualifications, powers, and merits of the horse for all such purposes as gentlemen apply them to; and the constant and consequent buying and selling of such horses renders them pretty good judges of their relative value as to price. Long may such men enjoy such amusements, and long may they possess fortunes to do so! There are without doubt pursuits of a higher order, pursuits that produce more beneficial results to mankind in general; but every man of fortune has an undoubted 1 ight to spend that fortune in such pursuits as he Conceives affords him the most gratification; and pro- vided that pursuit be a harmless one, no one has a right to interfere with it. The pursuits of the sportsman, while carried on by the gentleman, are generally not only harm- less, but beneficial to others. They give employment to many, anrl occasion a great deal of money to be circulated. This alone must benefit others: how far it may the sports- man himself is quite another affair: should the time ever arrive when from a reverse of fortune he is no longer able to enjoy them, there is perhaps no living being who can apply his knowledge to so little beneficial account to him- self as the sportsman, or one who can derive so little ad- vantage from the money be has spent in his pursuits. There have been sOme so situated, who, from having been accustomed to drive their own four-in-hand, have derived 156 GENTLEMEN NO TRADESMEN. a good income from becoming stage-coachmen: the Brighton and Hath roads particularly boasted several. I know one, and one only, who for some time hunted a pack of fox- hounds: but these are a few out of hundreds, perhaps thou- sands, who have found they could not make their know- ledge of horses or horse pursuits available in any beneficial pecuniary point of view. It may be supposed that such men, with all their experience and knowledge, might, if they made up their minds to such a degradation, commence business as horse-dealers, livery-stable keepers, commission stable keepers, or repository keepers: they might certainly commence; but before they can promise themselves to go on in any one of these undertakings with any chance of success, they must forget or set at naught every sentiment they have from infancy been taught to cherish, and oblite- rate from their minds all the high-wrought and sensitive feelings of the gentleman. No qualified aberration of them will do: no, it must be an utter annihilation of them. It will be said that this total dereliction of all former habits and feelings it is impossible for a gentlemen to efiect. I know it is; and for that reason, if he was to commence trade, he would not succeed in it. I never yet met with or heard of any gentleman who ever did, and I will venture to predict that no one ever will — at all events in any of the trades or occupations I have mentioned; and in all probability a sportsman is still less adapted to trade of any other kind. It is not to be supposed that a . liberal education militates against a man learning any busi- ness; quite the reverse; it would probably assist him in so doing: but to learn that business as a tradesman, re- quires years of such humilation as no gentleman would or could submit to. Ijeing a first rate judge of a horse will not enable him to be a horse-dealer. A gentleman may know perfectly the relative value of horses, and may easily ascertain that of any other article of merchandise. So far as buying and selling goes, he may even learn where, and in some measure how, to buy and sell to the best advan- tage: but this no more qualifies him for a tradesman than learning the newest fashions would make the tradesman a ge.itleman. I hope I have said enough on this subject to prevent any gentleman fancying that, should he ever find A LITTLE POACHING. 157 it necessary, he can, as a dernier ressource, turn those pur^ isuits he followed as amateur to any account as a tradesman. I have heard many say they were certain they could. I only earnestly hope they will never have occasion to try. I have stated, that no g;entleman ever has or ever will succeed as a regular horse-dealer. That there are, how- ever, many who in a private way to a very Considerable extent deal in horses is a notorious fact, and a fact as much to be regretted as it is impossible to be denied. It is si subject of still farther regret, that among them are found those who in every other transaction are men of unble- mished honour and integrity. If these gentlemen con- ceive that they carry on this underhand kind of private trade without its calling forth very severe animadversions from those who abstain from it, they very much deceivd themselves: and they labour iinder the influence of a still farther error if they suppose they can continue its practice without losing very considerably in point of character in the estimation of their friends and acquaintance. Placing them in comparison with the regular horse-dealer, I have no hesitation in saying, that so far as this pursuit is concerned, I consider the latter the most respectable man. He sells you a horse openly as a dealer, as a man who disposes of him avowedly for profit. You probably place no reliance on his word or confidence in his honour. He does not ask you to do so, nor is he oflTended if yoti do not. You purchase of him in most cases under a written warranty, or one given before a Witness. If the horse does not an = swer the description given of him, the law ig open to yoii for redress; or if you have just cause of complaint, hd generally at once takes the horse back. Now if you buy of the gentleman dealer in horses, you tfust to his word and to his honour. If you are deceived, which by-fhe-by you will find by no means an uncommon case, what \% yo6r resource? You must either keep your bafgain, bi if you hint that you have been taken in, a quarrel ensues, and you are called out for presuming to doubt the word or honour of a man who in such cases forfeits both perhaps twenty times in the year. Such men are, however, as yet rare among gentlemen, and 1 trust will long remain so. From the moment a gentleman first harbours the idea of ]4 158 he'll ro in time. making money of horses by buying; and selling them, he has taken the first step towards degradation, and then facile descensus Averni, He probably, indeed most pro- bably, at, first has no farther view than in an honourable way av'ailing himself of his superior judgment and taste. He is unforturi'ile enough to sell three or four horses to advantage. This gives him encouran;ement, and probably for the first time in his life he feels the pleasure of making money; and he continues to speculate with success. Hither- to he has done nothing wrong: his horses have all turned out as he represented them. He now, however, happens unfortunately to get a horse not quite what he should be. What is he to do with him? Is he to sell him at a loss? A very sliort time ago he would have done so; but now the itch, for making money has taken too firm a hold of him. He enters into> a kind of compromise with his con- scieiiice, and the horse has really perhaps nothing material the matter with him. He avails himself of his position in society, and sells him, on his word, as a perfectly sound horse. If he prov^e otherwise, he does not allow he had been guilty of a deception, but pledges his word of honour, that he was sound with him and when he sold him. This closes the transaction Having thus escaped with impu- nity, instead of taking it as a salutary warning of the danger of such transactions — Having once been guilty of a dereliction of honour and integrity^, he goes on till he unblushingly (in dealers' phrase) sticks a screw into a friend whenever he can find ar> opportunity. This is about a fair sample of the usual career of those who commence pri- vately dealing in horses. It is a pursuit that every gentle- man should avoi-d. It is as^ demoralizing in its influence on the mind, and eventually as fatal in its efiects as to cha- racter, as is the pursuit of the professed gambler and black- leg. " AH fair in horse-dealing,'^ is an idea that some per- sons profesSi It is a very erroneous one. It is an idea that no- sensible or honourable man can seriously entertain. There is no- more excuse for premeditated deception in the sale ofa^ horse than there is in any other transaction. The moment a man can bring himself to think there is, he would pick a pocket. We will naw look a little into the character and con- AB UNO DISCE OMNES. 159 duct of the regular horse-dealer. 1 know of no class of men on whom so j^reat and (what is much more unfair) so indiscriminate a share of odium is thrown as on the horse- dealer. I am free to allow tliat if we could collect toge- ther every person employed, directly and indirectly, openly and covertly, in the sale of horses, we should he able to exhibit to the world a very tolerable (or it may perhaps be said intolerable) mass of iniquity. We must not, how- ever, from this draw the inference that it necessarily fol- lows all horse-dealers are dishonest. Take them from the highest to the lowest, that perhaps nine out of ten are more or less so, I think, is very probably the case. But my humble opinion, that tradesmen in any other line are pret- ty much the same, and in about the same proportion, is not perhaps absolutely erroneous. The only difference is this: the horse-dealer cheats ^f?c man in the day to the tune of twenty-five pounds; the other cheats in smaller sums, a hundred in the same time and to the same amount; al- ways especially keeping the fact in our minds, that, in ad- dition to his hundred customers, he would be as ready as the dealer to cheat any one man to the amount of the twenty-five pounds if the opportunity offered. There is one circumstance that ought to be taken into consideration, and pleads very much in favour of the fair horse-dealer (supposing our purchase from him does not answer our ex- pectation, or perhaps his representation,) that is, the nature of the article in which he trades. I know of no one article of trade in which a man is so often deceived, and in which he so often deceives himself, and in which the horse-dealers are often, much oftener than is supposed, deceived themselves. Respectable dealers do take every precaution in their power not to get an unsound horse into their stables. They can- not, however, with all their precaution at all times prevent this. But they will not in such a case risk their character by selling such a horse to their customers. A horse may be purchased in the country from the breeder apparently sound: he may have hitherto been so; and yet Ijefore he may have been at work one week he may be the very re- verse. Some hidden internal cause that the most practised eye could not detect may have long existed, the efliects of which only become apparent on the animal being put to work. Here no blame can possibly attach to the dealer; 160 FORTITER IN HE. jie has bought him with every warranty of soundness: has travelled him perhaps a hundred miles home: has had him several days in his stable, and found him all he expected: he has every right to think him a sound horse; as such he sells him: still such a horse may deceive both the dealer and purchaser when put to the test of work and change pf treatment. Vicious as w^ell as unsound propensities in the horse frequently lay dormant for a very conside- rable time: they also may be only called forth on change of treatment. A really vicious horse in the stable is easily detected and to be avoided; but there are tempers and dispositions in horses, as well as in men, of which we never get the slightest intimation till some hitherto untried provocation calls them forth. This probably never has pccurred in the stable of the dealer. If a horse is intended for harness, which is a description of work that more than any other calls forth his vicious propensities, if he has any, he is put into a break by the side of a practised break-horse, who knows nearly as well what to do by the side of .either a timid or violent companion as the man who drives them could tell him. I could in fact bring forw^ard in- stances of good temper, patience, sagacity, and, when called for, determination on the part of some of these horses, that would not be credited by those unacquainted with this part of the dealer's business. Instances have been known of the break-horse being provoked to that pitch by a plun- ging and a kicking horse hy his side, that he has caught him by the neck between his teeth, and shook and held him till he became perfectly quiet. The young horse is gradually and carefully brought on till he is perfectly steady with a steady helpmate: he is then matched and driven with another who has gone through the same schooling. The pair are then driven together till both are become q.Tiet and handy. The dealer now considers them — and certainly is justified in putting them into the hands of any customer — as a pair of horses fit to be put to his carriage. Still it might and does sometimes happen that one or both of them may become unruly or set to kicking the first day they are used. This almost invariably arises, when it does occur, from injudicious or at least from in- considerate treatment. I am quite satisfied that where one INDISCRETION NATURAL TO YOUTH. 161 young horse does mi-chief from vice, ten do it from alarm; and there is no telling what a frightened horse will attempt or do: he is a thousand times more ditHcult to con- trol than the most vicious one. A coachman may have driven his carriage for years in perfect safety in all situa- tions, and may be an excellent coachman; but if he suffers himself to forget he has hold of a pair of young ones, with- out any other fault on his part, he will be almost certain to get into difficulties and danger, if not worse. A sudden stroke of the whip to a young horse, who has perhaps ne- ver before felt it, would set him plunging at once. Going more rapidly down hill than they have been accustomed to do will often alarm young horses. Turning very sharply round a corner brings one or the other horse, according to the turn right or left, suddenly on the pole, and confuses !)im. That most abominable and uncoachmanlike prac^ tice of pulling horses shnrp trp at a door throws them suddenly on their haunches, causes their feet to slip about in all directions, and, unless their mouths are made of cist-iron, severely injures them. Old horses will bear all this, because (like the eels) they are used to it; but depend upon it young ones will not. It may be said they should be driven by the dealer till they are as steady as old horses: so they have been, and in point of docility and temper are disposed to do all that can reasonably be re- quired of th?m: but we cannot give the experience or staid habits of a man of forty to a lad of sixteen. Boys, it is commonly said, wnll be boys; so will young hoises be young horses. Like youth in mankind, they must have time to gain experience; and till they do gain it, they must be treated accordingly. Horses at best are but brutes; and, as I have before said, no man can tell what their tempers may be when roused. But the tempers of young horses never should be roused if gentle usage will prevent it. They seldom or ever are, in the hands of the dealer or man of judgment. It would be rather an extraordinary proceeding on the part of a dealer if he was purposely to frighten or irritate the temper of a young horse in order to ascertain what under such circumstances he would do. There can be no doubt, that of the numerous accidents we often see and djily hear of, as occurring to gigs, ph;ie' 14* 1G2 "GIVE A DOG A BAD NA:MK/' ETC. tons, and other vehicles, three out of four arise from want of judgment in the driver. He is not aware of what is likely to produce accident; consequently takes no steps to prevent it. He has probably no conception that a strap buckled too tight or left too loose will render a horse uneasy in his harness, irritate his temper, set him plung;ing, and finally kicking and running away. This horse might have been a week since bought of a dealer, might have been driven in a double and single harness, have always gone perfectly quiet, and aUviys would have done so if common judgment had been used. This is all we have a right to expect from a high-spirited horse. He dors not promise us to carry a phaeton or gig down a hill on the top of his tail, or to be flayed alive by his harness from our carelessness. If any person wishes one that would permit this, I recom- mend the gentleman a rocking-horse. Now in any case of this kind, without making any investigation as to its cause, the effect having occurred, the first person censured is the dealer. No arguments on earth will persuade the purchaser that it arose from any other cause than the deal- er having sold him a vicious horse; and he will probably feel farther convinced that he well knew he was so. In short, whatever failing a horse may exhibit after being purchased, whether as to soundness, temper, constitution, or any thing else, deservedly or not, the dealer is sure to be set down as a rogue. If, even feeling he is not called upon to do so, he offers every reparation in his power, or makes it, he will be no better off: on the contrary, it will be only set down to his disadvantage, as evincing a con- sciousness that he vyas to blame. If he refuses to do this, the case is carried into a court of law; and whenever any horse case does get there, so universally biassed and pre- judiced are the feelings of the court in favour of the pur- chaser and against the dealer, that though no jury would willingly be guilty qf a decision of gross injustice, when the assertiqns of one party are implicitly believed, and those of the other totally the reverse, it is easy to judge in whose favour the case will end. Another stumbling-block in the way of the dealer arises from a cause little suspected by his customers. This arises from their servants. If the dealer does not submit to be A FIX. 163 pillaged by them, it matters little how good may be the horse he sells: he will be made to turn out badly by some means or other. Let it be understood that I am now speaking of ser- vants, as of other classes of men, en 7nasse: there are many faithful, honest, and attached individuals among these; and that there are not more is quite as much the fault of the master as of the man; for so long as masters will say, ^' 1 knovv my fellow is as great a rascal as ever lived, but he turns my cab out so well I cannot part with him;" so long does he encourage this man in being so, and others to follow his example: and so long as a master or mistress will keep servants who they know are daily rob- bing them, and nightly associating in public-houses with the lowest of the low, probably thieves and pickpockets, and retains them jn their service m.erely because they are clever in their several capacities, so long will they have rascals for their servants; and such the generality of Lon- don servants are, or by example shortly become. It is no uncommon thing for a gentleman to desire his coachman to look out for a pair of horses for his carriage. Should he be peremptorily ordered to go to some specified dealer, the thing is easy enough: he bargains to get 51. 10/. or 15/. for himself? the dealer must add this to the price he would otherwise be enabled to take for his horses, and there is no farther harm done than the purchaser paying in fact for his own servant the additional price put on to satisfy his cupidity. Now should the purchaser offer to buy the horses at a price about as much less as the sum the dealer knows he must give to the servant, what is he to do? He has the choice of three alternatives — to pay the servant out of his own pocket, lose the sale of his horses, or sell them knowing they will be abused, and con- sequently bring him into discredit with his customer. They will be made, in short, a lasting source of annoy- ance to the master, be a theme of constant abuse of the coachman from the first day, who will take care they lose condition, go badly, and have always something the mat- ter with one or both whenever they are wanted; and final- ly the master in his own defence will be obliged to sell 164 DOING A LITTLE BUSINESS. them: he loses really a good pair of horses and the dealer a good customer. Should the master or mistress leave it to their coachman to get horses from any person he pleases, then the case will be this, or something very like it. He will go to different places and different dealers, not to find where or of whom he can purchase the horses on the best terms, or such as are best suited to the purpose of his employer, but to find where and of who.ii he is likely to make the most for himself in the shape of bribe. If he sees a pair of really good sound horses, and finds he is only to expect a couple of sovereigns; he rejects them at once and for ever. If he then sees a pair by no means intrinsically so good, and finds he is to get ten, he considers of them, and leaves the deal open till he sees if he cannot do better 'for himself.) Now, if he finds a pair of very fine-looking horses in the hands of some low dealers, both of which he knows to be screws, and he is to get fifteen sovereigns if they are purchased, in such a case the master or mistress trusting to his judgment, they are purchased. Now, here will follow very different treatment to what befell the unfortunate horses where the dealer did not " come down handsomely.'' Thet thing the gentleman re^ quests isj that he may not be gitigered, that no whip may be used, that he may be allowed to stand as he likes, and then go as he likes (this is supposing the gentleman knows what he is about:) he is quite right, for this is the way lie will be treated while in his possession, and this is the way in which he will be allowed to go. If he goes handsomely, cheerfully, and well when thus left to himself, he is in al} probability naturally a good goer, a free and light-hearted horse. Now, let the dealer «;o to look at a horse in a gen-r tleman's stable, he will most likely be shown by the groom in the same quiet way I have described: to this the dealer- has no objection, but he will see a little more of him before he buys him: he then makes a positive agreement as to th^ price he is to have him for, if he buys him : this, done, he tells his own man who generally accompanies him on such occasions, to take hold of his head, gives him a ^'corn," in other words a bit of ginger, puts him against d^ wall, give^ him a few strokes of the whip to waken him a bit, tells his. man to ''run on," rattles his whip-ha'.dle in the crown of his hat, and then sees how (he horse will look when he shows him. The dealer is as right as the gentleman. They each wish to see the horse in the way in which he is to answer their different purposes, and the purpose for which each buys him. The difference, however, between his an- swering the purpose of the two buyers is very great. If he does not meet the gentleman's views and wislies, he is quite in his way; in fact, useless to him. It cannot turn out so with the dealer: he has got a youn^j, sound, bloomt ing, selling-looking horse, which is enough for him, be his THE LONG ODDS. 177 imperfections in other particulars what they may (at least to a certain extent:) if he does not suit one customer he will another, and thus he is sure to sell him to some one: whereas the gentleman, in getting what does not suit him, may think himself well off if he gets rid of him at 15/. or 201. loss. We will say he is fortunate enough to buy only two before he gets a third that does suit, and loses the low- est sum, 15/., by each. He had originally g;iven 100/., and loses 30/. by the two, besides expenses. How much richer is he than if he had gone to the dealer and given him 130/. for one that he (the dealer) had bought for 100/.? It strikes me, not much, except in one respect, and that is iii experience — which, by the by, if he afterwards maUes use of it, is really cheap at the 30/. I have merely supposed the private gentleman goes tvvice to a fair, and gets two horses that do not suit him on trial, and have concluded that on his third attempt he has suc- ceeded. To show that I am very much below the mark in the odds I have given against him, we will suppose that he had gone to a dealer's yard and was shown forty or fifty horses: out of these he sees nine or ten that, in point of size, price, and figure, appear to be likely to answer his purpose. Now, if he would at first tell the dealer the particular qua- lification he requires in the horse he wishes to buy, he would save himself, the dealer, and his servants, a great deal of trouble. He would in that case be put on two or three out of the ten that happened to possess these parti- cular qualifications ; he would be allowed a fair and rea^ sonable trial, and would no doubt get what he wanted. This will show that the dealer knew there were but two or three out of the ten that were likely to meet his particular wishes; and also shows that among ten horses, all looking like what he wants, it is just seven to three against his getting one that is even likely to suit him. He rides the three, and finds one, and one- only, of three that he ap- proves. As it therefore appears that out of ten horses, each of which looked like what he wanted, he finds but one that is so, it must be as clear as any demonstration Euclid could mike, that had he seen these ten horses in a fair, it is just nine to one against his having fixed on the one for his pur- pose. Now, when I speak of this horse being fit for his 178 YOUNG DEVILS. purpose, I beg it may be understood that I only mean that he finds him so as far as regards pleasantry to ride or drive. As to his turning out good, or good for nothing, when put to work, that is quite another affair: he must take his chance for that, as every man must who buys a young sound un- tried horse. In exemplification of this I recall to mind an anecdote of Wimbush. I took a friend to him to buy a pair of carriage-horses: he fixed on a pair, saw them driven, and quite approved of them ; so did I. He then said, " Now, Mr. Wimbush, I buy these horses from the recommenda- tion of my friend, and I rely on you that they are a pair of good horses."— "Pray don't. Sir," says Wimbush; •'! know nothing about that. If you want a pair that I can answer for as good ones, I will take a pair off a job that I can an- swer for; but these young devils I have only bought in a fair. I have warranted them quiet in harness and sound, and they shall be so to you: but, as to their goodness, you must take your chance of that." — My friend bought the young devils, as Wimbush called them, and they turned out well: but supposing they had proved diametrically the reverse, it would have been no fault of his: he could not tell what effect different work and different treatment might produce: all he could be expected to do, in truth all he could do, was to put such horses in his customer's hands, that, as far as he had seen or knew of them, were likely to answer the purpose for which they were designed. He has then done all in his power; his customer has got what he no doubt considers the great desideratum to get, young sound horses, and must keep them for better for worse, as the thing may turn out: they may be very desirable attain- ments: I can only say I never bought such in a general way for my own use, or ever will, nor would the dealer for his: he knows better; he buys such for sale, because he knows the generality of his customers will buy none other of him, and of course his interest is to meet their wishes and opi- nions : his own upon this subject he wisely keeps to himself: he knows, and I know, that a young horse from his sta- ble cannot be fit to do one day's moderate work under at least six weeks from the time of his being purchased. Few persons are aware of this; and even those who are so are often impatient to get their new purchase to work, and EXOTICS. 179 trust to their luck that he does not get amiss in conse* quence. Hence the great number who get all sorts of dis- eases soon after being put to work. On this subject, how- ever, more anon. Very few persons are at all aware of the treatment a young valuable horse has undergone before he gets into the dealer's hands. In the first place, such a horse has never done one day's even moderate work since the day he was foaled. The breeder would not risk his doing it It matters not to him be he good or good for nothing; he merely wants him to look well by the time he means to offer him for sale; and provided his constitution and stamina are good enough to enable him to be brought to this, it is all he requires or cares about. He has tried him suffi- ciently to ascertain that he rides pleasantly at the end of Jive miles; he is in no way interested in what he might do at the end of twenty, nor will he risk his knocking his legs about or cutting his ankles by trying. Why should he? When he sells him, he does not guaranty to sell you a good horse: he gives a warranty that he is a certain age,, that he is sound and free from vice; and provided he proves to be so, he has conscientiously fulfilled his com- pact with the purchaser. Now for some months before any of the great fairs, the horses the breeder intends sending there are being pre- pared for the purpose; that is, by taking no more exercise than is absolutely necessary to keep them in health, and are literally put up to fatten, like any other beast for mar-- ket, placed in an even and waim temperature in the stable,, to keep their coats fine; and by the time they are wanted for sale are made in every way ripe for the purpose. They come out fat, blooming, beautiful in their skins, and of course in the highest spirits, but as unfit for and incapable of a day's work as the pampered child of a lady of fashion, and as sensible of even the slightest variation of the at-^ mosphere as any exotic from the hot-house. In this state they are sold to the dealer, who is forced to nurse them- like children, to get them home in safety, in which, how- ever, and particularly in bad weather, he does not alwa}^^ succeed. Supposing they do arrive safely at his stables^ as he is quite aware how they have been treated,, li© ISO USEFUL ANIMALS — VERY. is forced (for a time at least) to keep them in the same forced and artificial state. He knows well enough that by so doing he is laying the foundation for all sorts of dis- eases; but what is he to do? He dares not change the system, except by slow degrees; and this in a great mea- sure he does, if he keeps any of them long enough; but probably some of them are sold in two or three days after their arrival. Now let me ask, what on earth is an animal in this state fit for beyond being shown in a dealer's yard? Why literally nothing, till, figuratively speaking, he has been taken to pieces and put together again. Of all the internal diseases to which the horse is liable, and more particularly fat horses, inflammation of the lungs- is by far the most prevalent, the most sudden in its com- mencement, the most rapid in its progress, and the most fatal in its effects. It is to this disease that horses in the' state and condition I have mentioned are, more than anj^ other, particularly liable. Once attacked by it, unless im- mediately and judiciously attended to, two or three dayS' bring on the crisis, which under such circumstances mostly ends in death: yet do and probably will most persons per- severe in putting such horses to work without preparation- for it. By so doing, they are unjust to themselves, the- animal, and the dealer from whom he has been purchased^. who in most cases, however, comes in for all the blame* whereas it rests solely with the impatience, ignorance (in? this particular,) or obstinacy of the purchaser. No horse* in the artificial state 1 have described should be put to' even moderate work under about the six weeks I have' mentioned before. During this time he should get at least two, generally three, doses of physic, and proper exercise, which., after the first three weeks, should be daily but gra- dually increased. He should also by the same gradual means be got to bear a stable of proper temperature, and get accustom^ed to change of weather. His drink and his food should also be changed, and in lieu of the constant hot mashes, hot gruel, hot potatoes, and I know not what other trash he was fattened on, good oats and an occasional cooling mash should be substituted. By the end of the six weeks a large portion of the gross and unhealthy fat with which he was loaded will have been got off, and he VARIATION AND SPECULATION. 181 may be put to moderate work with safety. I say mode- rate work, for let not the purchaser imagine his horse is yet in condition for severe exertion: all that has as yet been done for him has only been undoing what never ought to have been done; consequently he is now only in that state when the proper means of bringing him into condition can with safety be resorted to: this, good and proper food, good stable manngement, and regular work will effect without farther difficulty or danger. There may be perhaps many persons who may think the precau- tions 1 have pointed out as unnecessary, and the danger 1 have represented as exaggerated; if there be such, and doubtless there are many,"^ let them ask any respectable dealer, or any other really good judge of horses, whether I am so. If they say I am, I will bow with submission: if not, and the advice I have given is acted upon, I shall feel my time, so far from having been thrown away, has been usefully employed. I stated a few pages back, that probably the dealer might ask something like 130/. for the horse he had bought at 100/. Now I by no means intend to infer that this is about the average advance he would ask on his purchase: this must all depend on the particular merits of each horse. What may be his average profits on all his horses, nothing but his books can tell. On some his profit will be enor- mous, and on soine a very moderate one; some will only save their price and expenses; by some he will lose con- siderably, while occasionally, from deaths or accidents, he must lose both cost-price and expenses in toto. This very great fluctuation may appear sinj^ular to a person not con- versant with this particular trade: it is, nevertheless, a true statement of the fact. It never struck me till this moment that I possessed in- tuitive genius or talents of the higher order: I am, how- ever, now quite convinced that such is the case, inasmuch as I found out, in some part of these hints, that a horse is not a mahogany dining-table: till he is, the profits on his purchase can never be reduced to any thing like a cer- tainty. This arises in a great measure from the very little time first-rate dealers can bestow in the examination 16 182 QUITE THE RIGHT SORT. of each horse they buy. A dealer of inferior o;rade, who intends purchasing half a dozen horses, can afford to lose two or three days in the purchase of them: and if he saves 201. by so doing, it answers his purpose, and he is well paid for his time, trouble, and the numberless underhand tricks he has made use of to get them at his own price—* of which I purpose giving some idea when I speak of this class of dealer. Not so with the large dealer: he purchasCwS perhaps fifty high-priced* horses in two days: he cannot afford, on an average, ten minutes to the examination of each horse: his practised eye and constant habit enable him to purchase half a hundred horses, so as, taking them to- gether, they pay him; but he could not stand higgling for a few pounds in the price of each horse, or even give him- self time to investigate every minor circumstance relative to each: he buys on a broad scale, and, taking them toge^ ther as a lot, buys them well; of course some turn out bet* ter, some a little worse, than he at first sight thought them to be. Still this off-hand mode of buying pays him; for if he devoted a couple of hours to the getting any one par- ticular horse five pounds cheaper, by this delay he would only gain the five pounds in him, and lose fifty by missing five other horses that he would have purchased in these two hours. I know of no man who generally gives so little trouble in buying a horse, or as a stranger is so de* sirable a man to offer a horse to, as one of this class of dealers: he sees your horse out; if he does not like him, he makes up his njind at once — he would not buy him at any price, but generally civilly tells you he is a very clever horse, though too big or too little for his purpose; in fact, makes some excuse for not purchasing him, so as not to offend you. If, on the contrary, he thinks him adopted to his purpose, he inquires the price; and if he finds it far exceeds his ideas of his value, he states at once that it is far beyond what he can afford to give, thanks you for the sight of him, wishes you a better customer^ and thinks no more about him. On the other hand, if he finds you ask something like his estimation of his value, he tells you what, as a dealer, he can afford to give; and if you do not take it, there is no harm done, lie seldom alters much in his offer: if you agree to take it, he gets you to si^n a A TRUMP CARD. 183 receipt and warranty, hands you your money at once, and the transaction is ended. It not unfrequently happens that a particular horse or two are brought into the fair for which an astounding price is demanded. This does not frighten a dealer of high re- pute: if he really sees him to be what he would call " quite a nice one," price does not deter him: he makes up his mind to have him, and have him he w^ill; twenty or thirty pounds more or less makes no difference in his determina- tion, for with a horse of this sort, it is not whether he ex- pects to get twenty or thirty pounds' profit, but that he in- tends to make eighty or a hundred by him. He, therefore, often buys him at a price that makes the bystanders stare (if there happen to be any;) he is quite right: he knows of purchasers ready for such a horse at any price he may choose to ask for him the day he gets him home, for when horses get beyond a certain price, their value is nominal. It is, in fact, what certain men will give rather than go without them. Ho knows this, and it is his interest not to let such a horse escape him: he will probably pay better than half a dozen of his other purchases. It is the usual practice of dealers when they have bought say a dozen horses, to send them off to some town ten or fifteen miles from the fair. This is done for several rea- sons: it gets them thus far on their home the day they are bought, they rest better out of the noise of a fair, and it saves considerable expense in stable room; for it is a fre- quent trick with innkeepers to charge enormously for stalls during any of the great fairs. These horses stand in the town to which they have been sent, till those that have been subsequently purchased arrive, and till the dealer himself arrives also. Here he has them all paraded be- fore him, or, in more dealer-like phrase, he has a private show — to see, on a second inspection, how they look, how they go, whether they appear sound, and in a fit state to go on. And here, if the reader were in his confi- dence, he would hear something like the following re- marks, made on the different horses as they are led out. We will suppose the dealer has a friend or brother-dealer with him, overlooking the lot: — "That's a useful sort of nag, and not much too dear. Run on, Jack; that horse 184 HE GETS HIS PRICE FOR "A PONY." goes well; that'll do: go in. . , . Something like this is perhaps said of four or five: " Come on, Jack; now I like this horse a deal better than 1 did when I saw him yesterday. I was very near losing him. I am glad now I did not; he is a better nag than I thought he was; he'll do : go in." ..." Now here is a hor^^e wants but lit- tle to be quite a nice one : I booked him the minute I saw him; run on; he can go; he cost a hundred, and cheap at the money: come on." . . . The next alters the tone a little: " Why, Jack, that ain't the gra}^ I got of the parson?" — "Yes, it is, sir." — "Why, I thought him a deal bigij;er horse ; but then he makes a deal of himself when going, and that deceived me : the parson got the best of me: he ain't a bit too cheap, and not a very bad one neither; there, go in." . . . "Nowhere comes one of the best nags I have bought for some time : 1 look on him as the best horse in the fair for leather. 1 gave a good deal of money for him, a hundred and fifty; but he is sold at three hundred. — (N. B., being sold in this case does not mean that he actually is so, but that he will be sold to some particular customer so soon as he gets home.) — 1 oflfered a hundred for him last year; he was only a baby then; I like him better now at the odd fifty; there, go in." .... " Come on : why that horse is lame. I said yesterday I was sure he did not go level, but the gentleman said he never, was lame in his life ; 1 dare say he thought so : he must go back; let him be put in a loose box, and I will write about him." ..." Ah ! here comes one I was sure I should not like. I hated the devil the minute I saw him, but I was fool enough to be tempted by price: I thought him cheap: sarves me right: there, take him away ; I've seen enough of him ; we'll ship him as soon as he gets home to somebody at some price." . . " Here's a horse I gave plenty of money for ; but he is a nice nag : I wanted him for a match for Lady : she is a good customer, and I mean to let her have him just for his ex- penses; go in, Jack, and bring out the pony." .... "There now, if I know what a nice pony is, there's one; I gave eighty for him ; he'll roll over — (roll over means just double his cost price :) I mean him for Lord ; he won't ride one over fourteen hands, and rides eighteen A THING IS WORTH WHAT IT WILL FETCH. 185 stone: he's cheap to him at a hundred and sixty: if such men won't pay, and they want to ride, let them go by the road wagon." This is a tolerably general sample of the kind of ob- servations likely to be made on horses bought in a fair; and allowing it to be so, the reader will see, that if a dealer sometimes buys too dear, how little chance would a person unaccustomed to fairs have in attempting to purchase there? It cannot be a matter of surprise that the dealer, however good a judge he may be, should perhaps buy one out of six that may not pay him : it is only surprising that he should get so many that do. Let a private individual try to do this, and he wilj find his average, in lieu of one out of six that may not pay well, will be more likely to be six out of seven that he will lose by. Among the horses I supposed the dealer as havinii; bought, was one for which he states he gave one hundred and fifty, and he is certain of selhng him at three hundred. We will allow that one hundred and fifty is a strong price for a dealer to give for a harness- horse, which, so far as he knows, has only soundness, good looks, and action to recommend him, and that a hundred and fifty added is a strong profit : granted that it is so ; but it by no means follovvs, if he does sell him at three hun- dred, that he sells him at a hundred and fifty more than he is worth, or indeed even at one sovereign more : the value of a thing is what it will sell for. He does, in this case, unquestionably sell him at a hundred and fifty, say two hundred, more than his general marketable price among t\\Q generality of purchasers; but this is not the light in which such a horse is to be looked at. He was not pur- chased at first for the generality of purchasers, but for a particular market — and that market composed of a select number of men of fortune, amateurs in horses, who, to gratify their vanity, taste, or caprice, or perhaps all to- gether, are content to give these sort of prices. The man of wealth and fashion will have his gratifications (no mat- ter in what:) he expects and is willing to pay for them. If his cook is really a superior arliste, he gives him a hun- dred or a hundred and fifty pounds a-year — pretty strong wages, no doubt: still, if other men of the same rank would be willing to give this cook {artislr, I beg his pardon) the 16* X86 A HORSE-DEALER NO BROKER. same, that is the man's value among those who can afford to employ him — I again beg his pardon; I should say, avail themselves of his talents. It is just so with the horse: so long as he is kept and used by the same class, so long he is worth the three hundred, and if he changed hands among this class, would bring the same price. Though the dealer had a particular customer in his mind's eye when he bought this horse, and sold him to this identical custo- mer, he perhaps knew of several others who would have purchased him at a similar price. In this case then he in reality sold the animal for no more than his value to the purchaser, though paying a high profit to the dealer. This brings u])on the carpet another pnge in the cata- logue of crimes placed to the account of the dealer, which is, the difference between buying of^ and' selling to him. On this subject much more might be said than 1 intend troubling the reader with. I must, however, remark, as a primary clause of my defence of him in this particular, that it is not a part of his trade to repurchase horses, or to buy them at all after they have been in and about London. We will suppose, by way of one particular case, that the purchaser of the horse I have been lately alluding to, with- out having any fault to find with the animal. Avho, on the contrary, we will suppose has turned out to be all he anti- cipated or wished, still for some reason wishes to dispose of him. The first thing he probably does is to go to the dealer from whom he purchased him., and, perhaps natu- rally enough, expects he will be disposed to bu}^ him. Now I must first apprize my reader, that a dealer would at any moment just as soon see that gentleman who is repre- sented as wearing those pleasing appendages of horns and hoofs enter his yard, as a horse he has sold, when he re- turns there for the purpose of being sold to him, particu- larly a horse of the value of the one described. He knows he cannot in repurchasing do justice to himself, and at the same time give satisfaction to his customer; consequently, to avoid, if possible, giving any offence, or losing his money, he begins (and perhaps with truth) by declaring that his stables are quite full ; that he has really more horses on his hands than he knows what to do with; that the season for harness-horses is nearly gone by: that lie is "folly as it flies." 1S7 selling off his own horses of this sort to make room for liunters, which are the only horses he intends buying till the spring; that in the sprino; he would be happy to buy a dozen such as the one offered, but that now he should have to keep the horse and lay out of his money for at least seven months before he could think of even offering him for sale." Now all this is more or less true, though the whole is set down as mere excuses on the part of the dealer; and they are most unquestionably brought forward to avoid entering on the proposed treaty; and it finally ends in his giving what is really the best and most honest advice under exi.sting circumstances, namely, that the horse should be turned out for the winter, in which case he would again come out a splendid horse for the pur- pose for which he was at first purchased. This advice is, however, almost certain not to be attended to. The real fact is, his owner, as a man of fashion and fortune, was de- termined to have one of the finest horses in London for his cab: he bought him; his friends had all seen and admired him; the novelty of the thing was over: and a new to}^ is wanted, for as toys such horses must be estimated. The owner was determined to have a wiiistle for his amuse- ment; he bought a highly ornamented one at the season when whistles were in demand; paid a proportionate price for it; has blown it till whistles are no longer in demand; and, forgetting it is but a whistle, is greatly surprised to find he is likely to pay rather dear for his music. Mais revenons h nos tnoiitons. We left the owner strenuously urging the dealer to purchase, and the latter as assiduously endeavouring to get out of the affair. Let us suppose that the owner loses if he sells the horse — on whom should the fault rest? Certainly not on the dealer. If a nobleman or gentleman is content to buy such a horse for his use as is driven by a hundred other noblemen and gentlemen, from a hundred to a hundred and fifty would have been probably the maximum price. Such a horse, making allowance for the time of year in which he might be offered for sale, would always command something close upon the same price: but if any person is determined to possess any rarity, no matter of what sort, and afterwards wishes to dispossess himself of it, he must either find a 188 purchaser among those who are on the look-out for rarities, or make up his mind to pay dearly for his temporary pos- session of it. The dealer naturally declines buying what he knows he must lose money by; and no blame can be attached to him for so doing. The owner forgets, in wish- ing to sell his horse, that he partly does so because people of fashion are leaving London, and that he is doing so him- self: he forgets, that instead of giving without a murmur, three hundred for this same horse, that he would not pur- chase him at the time he wants to sell him at even half the original price; he ought to consider that others would feel the same thing, and that the dealer, aware that such is the case, wisely declines burdening himself with an unsaleable commodity. In fact, the dealer should have been the last person instead of the first to have been applied to. An animal of this description once purchased should be sold only to and among a certain circle, till time and use have rendered him no longer a novelty, and bring him to the price of ordinary purchasers, among whom he would pro- bably be sold, re-sold, and sold again without much loss, if any, to his diflferent masters. I have dwelt thus long on this supposed case, to account for the great fluctuation often arising in the price of the same animal in a few months, which does not arise from any diminution in his intrinsic value, but depends on the situation in which he is placed from being offered to dif- ferent classes of persons, and to account for the fact that gentlemen do, as they represent, often purchase so dear, and ar« compelled to sell (comparatively) so cheap. But this is not confined to horses only: it will be found to bear equally on any other description of merchandise. The tradesman must have his profit. If you want to dispose of any purchased article, the least you can expect to lose is the tradesman's profit on it, and the quantum of loss to be sustained depends on the judgment employed in the pur- chase, and the description of article purchased. A friend of mine, a very good judge of horses in a gene- ral way, went to see a horse for a wager carry a dealer's boy over a monstrous high wall. I accompanied him, Was much astonished at the leap, and quite as much that so heavy-headed, ill-made a beast should be capable of the GETTING IN. 189 feat. My friend was so infatuated by the performance, that nothing I could say prevented his buying the brute at a hundred and fifty guineas; and if he intended to keep him to do nothing but jump a brick-wall for the entertainment of his friends, he was worth the money; but for any other earthly purpose, he was not worth twenty pounds, as noth- ing else could he do with satisfaction to any one who rode him. I met my friend a few weeks afterwards riding the beast, and expressed my surprise at his so doing; but he made a very sensible reply, which silenced me at once: "My dear fellow, 1 am not a very ricli man: I have found him quite as bad as you told me I should, but I cannot afford to lose a hundred guineas, which I must do at the least if I determine at once to sell him : so I ride the wretch till I can find as great a fool as myself to buy him." For- tunately he hunted about till he did find the fool he want- ed, and got off with no farther loss than the keep of the animal for a few months. Having mentioned the folly of my friend, and the risk he ran of losing a considerable sum by pleasing his fancy, it is but fair I should mention an instance of my own, who, being some years his senior, ought to have known better. I went to see a stud of horses for sale at TattersalPs; I per- ceived that one horse among the stud seemed to attract very great attention, and this I thought was easily account- ed for from his being one of the finest horses I think I ever saw. But I found another cause for this general attraction, when I heard he was not only beyond any competition the widest jumper in the stud, but known to be the widest brook or drain-jumper in Lincolnshire, where he had been hunted. He was put up with the rest, and I bought him at a hundred guineas. He was no sooner knocked down to me than 1 felt I had done wrong. Several others of the same stud were sold at far higher prices, not one of which could any way be compared to him as to looks, size, or breeding: in short, I felt certain he was too cheap to be good. A couple of guineas to the head-groom produced no explanation but that he was a very good horse, the fastest in the stud, and the biggest jumper in Lincolnshire. I hunted him ; found him fast enough to go at his ease up to any hounds with any scent; nothing too big for him to 190 GETTING OUT. take in his stride, and a mistake seemed Impossible, so it was at any tiling he cliose to try: but he seemed to think it quite beneath his dignity to jump at any ordinary fence; and 1 should say, during three times 1 rode him with hounds, he was on his nose with me twenty times. He had another pleasing propensity: if there were twenty little water-drains in the field, I would back him to put his foot into every one of them. I was lucky enough, how- ever, to find a farmer who piqued himself on being the boldest rider in the country where I was hunting, and had pn more than one occasion pounded the whole Field. It struck me the widest jumper in all Lincolnshire and my dauntless friend the farmer would be well matched: it ended in my allowing him to try "Lincoln'^ at a brook that had been considered in the hunt as impossible without a boat or taking a cold bath. The price was agreed upon if the horse did it: he took it and to spare. I drew 50/., taking in exchange decidedly one of the cleverest hunters I ever had, and eventually sold him at a hundred and fifty when fourteen years old. From these two little anecdotes it will be seen how much the prices of horses depend on circumstances. Had my friend not had patience to wait for the right customer, he would probably have lost a hundred by the wall jump- er: had I attempted to sell my Lincolnshire bargain in his own country, fifty would have been his estimated price, though very fast, very good, singularly handsome, and in some respects no doubt an animal of astonishing powers. I have said that the amount of loss to be expected by a purchaser on selling the article purchased depends in a great measure on the article itself. The facility or diffi- culty of disposing of most articles chiefly depends upon the utility and general demand for the article in question. If it be one in general demand, it is usuallj^ to be got rid of at little more loss than the tradesman's profit, provided it has not been used so as to prevent it being again sold as new; if, on the contrar}-, it is an article of taste or veriu, it has probably been bought at a fancy price; and should there be a necessity of selling this, excepting among the cognoscenti, the loss on the purchase must be necessarily THE GIVE-AND-TAKE TLA F E. 191 great: no matter whether a bronze horse or a live one, the principle applies the same. As for example: — Two ladies go to the same silversmith's — say Storr and Mortimer — as a house of undoubted respectability. Mrs; A. orders dinner-forks, Spoons, and ladles, and dessert to correspond in proper proportions, silver bread-basket, and a waiter or two, the amount of which adds up to 200/.: Mrs. B. orders an epergne of beautiful workmanship, which comes to the same sum. The forks and spoons of course elicit no remarks from Mrs A.'s friends, being articles of daily use and regarded as common necessaries; while, on the contrary, Mrs. B.'s epergne is pronounced quite new, recherche^ and in accordance with her general good taste and judgment — (Remember, reader, the three-hundred- g'iinea cab-horse vvas admired just as much.) Now w€^ will suppose the two ladies, after a time, wish to exchange their different purchases for other articles of a newer or a different pattern: mark the results. Mrs. A.'s articles cost her about Is. Gel. per ounce, and in round numbers we will say they weighed 550 ounces: in exchanging them she would probably lose 2*. an ounce, about in money 55/. Mrs. li.'s beautiful epergne, which perhaps weighed 100 ounces, is not an object of comm^on demand like spoons and forks; therefore, had it weiglied the same, would not be worth as much: but it was in no way sold by weight, and all its beautiful and elaborate workmanship tells for nothing; so this article loses, first at least 12/. on its weight of 100 ounces, and the actual value of it as old silver is about 25/. Assuredly this is really worse than horse-deal- ing, and the loss arises from precisely the same cause. 300/. vvas too much to give to please the fancy for the mo- ment in the cab-horse, and 200/. too much for the epergneV Neither the dealer nor Storr and Mortimer were to blame; The dealer often sells horses within a few days after he has purchased; but, on the other hand, he keeps some many weeks, and even months, before he finds a customer for them, notwithstanding he has used all his ingenuity, indus- try, and patience to dispose of them: yet the private indi- vidual is quite surprised and dissatisfied, if, when tired of his purchase, he cannot in a few days get him off his hands without considerable loss. The dealer had patience to wait 192 "the varlet's a tall man 'fore heaven. '^ many weeks before he could get his price, notwithstanding his extensive connexion and knowledge of his trade: the least then the gentleman can do is to use the same patience^ take the same time, and adopt the same means in endea- vouring to find a purchaser. This, however, he will not do, nor could he if he would: he must therefore make a severe sacrifice, unless he is fortunate enough to find the same kind of person my friend was for many months in search of when wishing to sell the horse of brick-wall no- toriety. After all, however, is said, and the sacrifice made, there is no great cause of complaint, provided he has been gi-atified by the temporary possession of what he only bought for temporary gratification. He might with as much reason complain, after eating a pine that cost him 14*. It is true a pear would have slaked his thirst just as well, but he did not think so: at the time, the pine he fan- cied, and the pine he would have; the pear was too com- mon for his aristocratic mouth, though he might, like My Lord riuntingtower, have eaten a dozen of the latter for half the price of the former. There is a great satisfaction in serving such customers, and it is really cruel in them to damp that satisfaction by even hinting at the price they have paid. 1 have often lamented when a boy that the knife I had bought never, after three days, looked the same as it ap- peared in the cutler's shop: people will generally find this hold equally with a horse bought out of a dealer's hands: he there looks as he probably will never look again while in their possession; at least, this is the case with the gene- rality of horses. They there see a horse brought to the highest state of perfection in point of appearance that hu- man ingenuity can effect, or to which he is capable of be- ing brought: the stable he stands in is so constructed as to set him off to the best advantage; even his quarter-cloth is put on to show his shape with the most efiect; his head- collar is made so as to give a light and pleasing appearance to his head; not a hair in his tail or mane is permitted to lie the wrong way; his very shoes are shaped to give his foot the very best form; when brought out, he is not per- mitted to stand for a moment, in a disadvantageous posi- tion. If he is a fine horse, in order to show how little is BYE PLAY. 193 required to show him off, you may hear the dealer say to his man, "Let him stand where he likes, Jem; it don't matter how he stands," laying a strong emphasis on the word he; but depend upon it the dealer knows perfectly well when he says this that he is standing on one of the mofet advantageous spots in the yard; and not taking him to the general show-place has its effect on the purchaser's mind: it does not look dealer-like, and has an air of carelessness about it, as much as to say, you may buy him or not as you like. We will suppose the customer wishes to ride the horse himself on trial: a private servant would proba- bly call for a saddle, and put it on the horse's back as he • stands: the dealer's man knows his business better; he knows that horses never look to advantage during the operation of being saddled, but on the contrary set up their backs, swell against the girths, and put themselves in un- seemly positions. To avoid all this, the horse is taken into the stable, and there saddled, care of course being taken that the saddle is put on so as to set his shoulder off to the best advantage. While the ceremony of combing and water-brushing his mane and tail is gone through, he has had time to set down his back, and comes out looking like himself and "all right.'' We will now suppose he has been ridden, brought back, and approved of: he is then not allowed to stand one minute, but is taken at once into the stable — for this reason, he has been seen and ridden, and has given satisfaction, and he may therefore be consi- dered sold. No advantage could be gained by his being farther inspected; therefore, while all is well, and the cus- tomer favourably impressed with his merits, he is takert away, lest by any possibility he may do something to of-^ fend, or look to less advantage than he has hitherto done. Now the private individual knows irothing about the ne- cessity of attending to all these minuti^: it heVer struck him they were attended to, because it wds all done as a matter of course and habit, consequently there was nothing particular in the conduct of the dealer or his man. No orders wxre given; but it was done: and by this kind of apparently simple routine many a customer is done also — I should on second thought rather say induced to buy, for in all this really nothing in any way unfair has been prac- 17 194 "'tis strange. *tis passing strange,"^ tised. The dealer has, like any other tradesman, set hFs; good's off to^ the best advantage, and his man only done his part to the same purpose. The man. who* keeps a muslin and lace sliop parades his goods, and his Hyperion-curled assistant shows his lace over his hand. I allow this to be ail fair, stud the dealer in- horses and the dealer in lace are equally honest. The twa subordinates are also equally ho- rvest, though not eq. Thje dealer's man does what no woman could do; the other does what only a woman ought to do. But to return to> the horse that has been shown, seen^ ridden, approved of, and purchased. A few da3'S after these events, the owner wishes to show his purchase to a friend, and recollecti^ng the imposing appearance of the nag in the dealer's yard, he naturally expects he will look the same now, and strike his friend with the same admi- ration the owner felt on seeing him. Greatly, however, to his surprise and dismay, he perceives him to cnt quite a different figure, barely looking the same animal. He cannot understand tliis: he sees that it is so, but why it is so he can in no way account for. Had he read the few hints 1 have given, merely as relating to a very few of the attentions paid to appearances when shown b}^ one who knows something of his business, he would not be quite so much in the dark: still, supposing him to make some use of those hints, he cannot nor ever will show the horse, or any horse, like the dealer. How should he? he was not bred to the trade. ' Reverting to the objection dealers have to purchase a horse they have sold, the reader must bear in mind my having before represented the passion most people have for horses quite fresh. Now this perfectly fresh look goes off in a horse much sooner than most persons suppose; and though, provided he has been only moderately worked for six months, he is intrinsicall}^ a far belter animal for use, and sometimes in-^proved to the eye of a judge from having lost some of his superfluous fat, this will not alter the case: he does not look so new (for new is not an inapprapriate term to be applied to a dealer's horse.) This newness doeSj and I suppose will continue to put a stamp of valu« ANALOGIES. 195 on whatever is sought to be purchased by the generaVrty of mankind. To have the first of a thing seems the great desideratum, whether in a horse or any thing else. The dealer is aware of this infatuation en the part of hi-s custo- mers: he knows the horse i« a better and more useful ani- mal than when he sold him, but he knows his customers would not like him as well: he finds them horses; he is not bound to find them sense; and till he or something else does, the new horse wilJ be preferred. This predilection for very youn-g horse-s would almost lead to the belief that people imagine that in every five- year-old unused horse they have a right to expect a given quantum of work, as in every bottle of wine they have a given number of glasses full : now if there was any analogy between the certain quantum of work in the horse and the quantum of wine in a bottle, there can be no doubt but the predilection would be judicious. Tlie bottle from which two glasses have been taken is not worth as much by one sixth as the fresh bottle that contains twelve: so if we could be certain that in every five-year-old horse thoTe were twelve years of work, the horse that had been used two years would, like the bottle, be just one sixth diminished in value. But this is not the case: the same calculation in no way holds good between the two objects: but between a horse and a watch something like a simile may be brought to bear, as we naturally expect both to go; and so they both do more or less; some go very well, some moderately so, some very badly, while some, figuratively speaking, cannot go at all. The action of both depends beyond doubt in a general way on the scientific manner in which the working parts of each have been put together; and the du- ration of time that each will continue to go depends on the goodness of the material of which each has been made. If we go to a good watchmaker and pay him a good price, he can be almost certain in selling a watch that will go well, and continue to do so, from knowing th.e goodness of its materials, and the skill employed in putting them together. The manufacturer of any other article can be equally cer- tain of its relative goodness; but I know of no manufacturer of horses; and until one is found, though our eye can tell jjs the horse that goes well_, we must trust to chance as to 196 GOING SOMEHOW. how long he will continue to go: the soundness of hig ma- terials can only be found out by trial; and yet such is the perversity or folly of men in general, that though some one has risked this trial, the horse none the worse for it (in- deed the better,) and proved to be likely to continue a good and useful servant, it is this very trial that will in nine eases out of ten depreciate him in the estimation of a pur- chaser. I think I can now bring the purchasing a horse and a watch in such close affinity as to bear precisely the same pn each. We will suppose a salesman (not a manufacturer) to have twenty new watches sent him for sale, all good- looking, but the maker unknown: in this case neither he por a purchaser can form any opinion of their goodness, nor have either the slightest means of judging of their re- lative soundness of material : all that a purchaser can do is to select the one that pleases his eye, and that he finds will ^t all events go at present. We will say ten of these are ^old, and at the end of the year, like horses, some have gone well during the whole time; others have continued to go for the same time, but badly ; some have gone for six months, and then could go no longer; while some did not go for a \yeek. Suppose the purchaser of one of the two or three that have gone well for the twelve months, and are still going on well, should he wish to sell his purchase, and the same salesman again undertakes the sale of it, we might naturally suppose that every person would take this proved good watch in preference to one of the new ones of whose goodness he must run all the risk. No doubt every man of sense would do so: but depend upon it, nine persons out of ten would prefer a new one, unless the other was to be sold at a greatly depreciated price: and even then most persons would still take the new one, and console them- selves with the idea and common opinion, " If I get a new thing 1 know the wear of it." Do they? If they do, they know more than any other person does: at least, it is so as far as regards horses. Now could any reasonable man ex- pect the salesman to take this watch upon his own hands? or if he did, must he not do so at a very low price indeed in comparison with its original one? The horse-dealer in taking back a horse is placed in the same predicament — in- TOYS FOR GROWN CHILDREN. 197 ^eed in a worse, inasmuch as a watch is worn unseen by the public, and consequently has not been rendered common in its eyes; but the horse has. If we are oflered a second- hand watch, it is a thousand to one that we ever know its former possessor, or that any one will tell us that the watch belonged to Lord B ; but let his horse be offered for sale, and though my lord had only driven him twelve months, the salesman of him, be he who he may, will be told, " Why, that's Lord B.'s old cab-horse.^' Any thing that has become blaze in London has also become valueless, or at least to a great degree it has become so. A young friend of mine, while on the peninsula, bought a beautiful and very English-looking milk-white horse, and was fortunate enough shortly afterwards to meet with an exact match for him. Their manes and tails were really magnificent; but he took it into his head to dye them a very pretty light chestnut, with rather a pinkish hue. A lady of very high native rank there fell in love with these pink-tailed horses, and he sold them to her at an enormous sum. He certainly sold them as they were, nor did he say the tails were not dyed, but he took very good care not to say that they were; in fact, the question was never asked: if it had, I am quite sure he would at once have said that they were. Some time after the hair began to grow, and of course the tails and manes began to put on a suspicious appearance, but luckily, just in the nick of time, his regiment was ordered home. Of course, the manes and tails after a time came to their own much more becoming colour; they were, after all, a magnificent pair of horses, and the lady had no reason to complain of any thing but the price. Supposing such a pair of horses, with really pinkish- chestnut manes and tails, fell into Anderson's hands; his door in Piccadilly would be besieged by the elife of the beau monde; and whether he chose to ask two or six hun- dred for the pair would matter little. Many, it is true, would not buy them at all, but those who were so inclined would give any thing he chose to ask; and probably, before they had been driven a week, some one would tempt the owner by the offer of a couple of hundred more to induce him to sell them. Let these be driven till the end of the 17* 198 SADDLED WITH A BARGAIN. season— they would have been seen by every one, their novelty would have worn off; and novelty was their re- commendation: the owner would probably have become tired of them, and would heartily wish their tails h^d also baen dyed. When he purchased them, perhaps not more than one person in five thousand would have liked them ; but now he finds no one will have them at all. Second- hand things of any description sell badly enough; but if I was to rack my brains for a month to hit upon any thing second-hand the most difficult of all others to get rid of, I should certainly say a pair of milk-white horses with pink- ish-chestnut manes and tails. Anderson would probably recollect them with many pleasurable feelings: I should imagine he would be the only one who would. In nearly the commencement of these hints I stated my firm conviction that no gentleman could make money by horses as a tradesman. 1 farther, in no measured terms,' gave my opinion of those who use their position in society as a cloak to their being in fact horse-dealers. This can only last for a time: that is, till they are found out. I have also given it as my impression that a respectable dealer is the best source from which a gentleman can sup- ply himself with horses, and have at the same time allowed that purchasing in this way he will lose by his horses if he wishes to sell them. It might be remarked, from what I have said, that the only inference to be drawn is, that a gentleman must either be a rogue, or lose by all his horses. I do not quite mean this; but I am afraid it comes very near the truth. It must, however, be recollected, that I allude to gentlemen who are not in the sporting term " horse men," who know little about them, merely have them as necessary appendages to their position in life, and as objects of utility and luxury to which they are accus- tomed. Such men must undoubtedly expect to lose by their horses. Why should they not? They lose by their furniture, their clothes, their carriages, and indeed by every thing; yet they abuse the dealer if they lose by a horse. Having said that gentlemen in a general way must lose by horses, I vv^ill now endeavour to show that there are some gentlemen who not oqly do not lose, so far as price JUDGES, BUT NOT BIG WIGS. 199 goes, but who really keep half a dozen or more horses at very little expense. Mind, I do not mean they make money by them; that is quite a different thing: but they get their show and amusement for a hundred or two a year, which costs others a thousand or much more. I'his can only be done by men who from practice and decided partiality to horses have acquired a quick eye, good taste, and perfect judgment in choosing their horses — a perfect knowledge of the best stable-management of them after- wards — and, finally, fine judgment, fine hands, a fine seat, and fine nerves in riding or driving them. This is only to be acquired by beginning early: riding must from in- fancy have been as natural to him as walking, or, with a few exceptions, he will never become a horseman. A tailor may begin at five-and-twenty to first get on a horse, and yet make a capital dragoon: he would nev^er, however, be made (as least not one man in a thousand would) a hunting rider. Look at the difference between the manner and seat of a man who began from childhood, and the school- taught adult; the first steps into his saddle without hesita- tion or preparation: the moment he is there, you see he is at home and in his element as much as a duck is the mo- ment she touches the water. The other prepares himself for the exploit; then prepares to mount; mounts; seats himself, prepares himself and horse to move; and when he i\oes move, you can see by his riding that it is an effort; and it always strikes me that a dragoon looks (though we know it is not so) as if he was afraid of his horse: he looks artificial; while the other and his horse look as if, like the Siamese twins, they had been born together. A man with these advantages can do a great deal with horses: he is not certainly a manufacturer of horses, but he is in a great mea- sure a manufacturer of hunters, hacks, harness-horses, &.c. He really buys the raw material, and makes it into what other people pay a high price for. He cannot perhaps aflford to pay three hundred for a horse fourteen or fifteen years old, because he is a perfect made hunter: he knows how to make a hunter, then why should he pay for one ready made? To him the making a horse is as much an amuse- ment as making a picture or a garden is to another: he really makes the horse valuable, and has a right to that 200 THE TWO TEAMS. value when he sells him. His good judgment makes him select a young horse that hs sees ought to be first rate as a hunter:, he takes care to buy him at a price that will do no great harm supposing he finds he does not answer his •expectation as a hunter: his size, figure, looks, and action, will probably at all events command what he gave for him — say a hundred; so he is no great loser under any circum- stances; for if he, from some constitutional cause, is not good enough for a hunter, he makes him into a first-rate harness-horse: the one that does make a hunter shows him a great deal of amusement for a season or two, and then he is asked to take three or four hundred for him. Men of this known judgment never have occasion to offer their horses for sale: it is enough that he has carried Mr. a season or two, as it is quite well known he would not have ridden the same horse ten times if he was common- place. He has no objection to selling a horse to pay a hundred; it lessens his stable expenses: but he would not punish himself by riding a brute in order to make money. There is nothing in any shape derogatory to the character or conduct of a gentleman in what he does: he is a good judge, a good horseman, a good sportsman: all this tends to the results I have mentioned: he is, moreover, in all probability, a good fellow, or people would have nothing to do with him or his horses. Long may such men ride and prosper! I wish we had more of them. There are other men who are especially driving men: these can do the same thing by their nags, and perhaps drive their four-in-hand at as little expense as others do their cabs. A friend of mine, whose income never ex- ceeded 2000/. a year, always contrived to keep six, seven, or eight hunters during the season, and had his team during the summer; added to which his bachelor menage was in perfect good taste. He had one summer got together four very good goers, and few men could hold them together better than he could. Coming along the road from Ham- mersmith, he overtook a friend also driving his team, who piqued himself on having fast ones: they had a few mi- nutes' chat, when, to the latter gentleman's perfect asto- nishment, my friend went *nvay from him and the fast ones with perfect ease. They met an hour afterwards in BEAT WITH HIS OWN WEAPONS. 201 the Park, and when they had come side by side, the same result took place. It ended in a deal, and they actually exchanged teams, harness and all, my friend drawing a hundred in the exchange. During the next few days the rivals did not meet again. My friend was driving his new barter, getting them properly bitted, and, in road lan- guage, pulling them together. The fact was, three of these horses were beyond comparison much faster than his for- mer team, but the fourth could neither step with nor go with the others. This horse he got rid of, (and more of him anon,) and put in one to the full as fast as the others: they were then one of the fastest teams in London, and he made them step toojether like soldiers, whereas before they only seemed to have been put together to be in each other's way. My friend now again appeared in the Park, and shortly after was joined by his friend and the noto- rious team; the same go-by was now given him that he had given a short time before, and doubtless his friend thought the hundred he had given for the exchange was well laid out: but miracles never cease: and who can con- trol his fate? My friend permitted him to get a few car- riage lengths in advance; then put on the steam, caught his friend, and passed at a good fifteen miles an hour. Had Tarn O'Shanter on the gray mare, Mazeppa on the wild horse, Byron's Giaour on his black steed, or Scott the jock mounted on the ghost of Pegasus, passed, he would have been surprised; but his surprise would have been tame in comparison with his'perfect astonishment at the matchless style of going, and the pace of his former bays. But so it was; he was beaten, and beaten hollow by his own horses! True, one had been changed; but this he did not know or perceive. The result ended in their again changing, and my friend again receiving a hundred for so doing. I said I would allude to the horse taken out of the team: he was a fair goer, but had not harness-action. My friend found this out in half an hour, and immediately drafted him: he rode him, put him into the hunters' stable, and he came out first-rate. Now, here was a young six-year-old horse being sacrificed, and spoiling his companions, from being put into his wrong place. So much for judgment, or rather the want of it! Judgment in horses certainly i? ^202 A NOBLE FENCER. eot possessed by one man in a hundred who keeps and iises them, and yet scarcely one man in that hundred will ^llow or believes he does not possess it. I doubt not many a young city gentleman, who daily drives his Stan- hope from Finsbury Square to his little secret establish- inent in the New Road, fancies he could drive a Dutchman or any other horse in a match as well as VVoodriffe, and that he could make him do it in the same time^ though iialf of these gentlemen want a hand for each rein, and a third for their whip, and then they would only be in the way of each other. Let the generality of persons see a horse or horses go well across ^ country or in harness, they •are very properly struck with admiration of their povvers; hut they seldom give half the credit they deserve to those who drive or ride them, whereas a much greater share of the merit of the performance belongs to them than people are apt to imagine; yet it would be difficult to persuade them that the same horses would not do the same thing in their hands. I was fool enough once to buy a reed of a fellow in the street, who certainly imitated all sorts of birds most beautifully. I thought what a deep hand I was when I insisted on having the identiaking him curvet all down the ride or yard. He then desires to ride him himself; orders the stirrups to be lengthened, measures their length by his arm, twists his- fingers en Dragoon in the mane; motion one, two, three, and he is mounted. He rides, looking at every visible pari of himself, for in his opinion a very goo "Well, I think he is." Out follows another shilling. "I pinted out tliat horse to you, sir, when you came into the stable: I knew he wauld suit you:" (another shilling:) "I am glad you've got him, sir," — (no lie this) — "for though he's as quiet as a lamb, he is a high-couraged horse, and 'tisn't every man can ride him as you can." (Shilling th& 216 A CUSTOMER WHO WOn't BE SHAVED. third.) Tom sees the purse closing, so, finding soap will do no more, he touches his hat again; in goes the money into his pocket; in goes his tongue into one cheek; and then in goes Tom and two or three companions to the public-house, takes something short, and then goes to see what is to be done with the other customer, about whom he makes inquiry something in this way: "I say, Jem, which way did that covey go with t'other horse? Oh, here he comes; he's a wide-awake chap that, I'll pound him; soap won't do with he." We left this covey, as Tom in his aristocratic language termed him, taking a cursory look at the horse. I may be asked why he takes only a cursory look at him? For a very different reason from that which induced Muff to do the same thing: he only in this stage of the business does this to see how he likes his general appeal ance, for it would be useless to take the trouble to minutely examine a horse (a thing not to be done in a minute,) and then find, on see- ing him move, that he had no more action than a three- legged stool. After therefore having ascertained from his general appearance whether he quite likes it or not, he sees him run: if he likes it, he does so to ascertain whether his action corresponds with his looks : if it does not, he saves all trouble by ordering him in. This order Tom know.*, it is useless to hesitate in obeying, for, as he Kiy^, soap^ persuasion is of no use here. If this purchaser should not like much the looks of the nag, he orders him to be moved' that he may ascertain whether his action is such as to make- amends for his want of appearance. For this, he does not,, as Muff did, direct Tom to mount him : he merely says- (for such men in these cases deal pretty much in mono- syllabic terms,) "go on, walk," Jf this pleases him, or" nearly so, he then merely says, "run on.'^ When he has^ seen enough of his trot, on the horse returning he holds up his hand: "wo-ho." Tiie nag is now placed against the wall: "give him the length of his bridle, and let him stand."" The dealer and his men well know what this means, and by this time thoroughly know the sort of customer they have to deal with. They see he is, as Tom says, wide awake: they know he will have his own way, and see the horse in his own way, or not look at him at all. It is true, NOT TO BE HAD. 217 that if this horse has been bit two days ir> the dealer's sta- ble, he has been taught his lesson too well not to be kept on the qui vive, if wisher], by private signals (not very easy to detect,) in spite of the man at his head pretending to coax him to stand still. But, in Tom^s phrase, he knows very well that "Wide-awake won't have it;" so still he does stand. And now he examines him in earnest: he looks at him, sideways, before and behind, looks minutely at those parts of his shape and make that indicate the pos- session or want of powers for the purpose for which he in- tends him; carefully looks and ascertains whether he stands well and firmly on his legs, and whether they are placed as legs should be: he then examines him as to soundness^ not merely to ascertain whether he is sound at fhe present moment (for the dealer having warranted to such a m.an^ the probability is that he is sound,) but he looks carefully to see whether there is any thing that indicates a disposi- tion to unsoundness, as in that case he might be very sound to-day and very unsound in a week's time, without the right to return him. When he takes up his foot, he looks at those parts that are generally the present or future seat of disease: he looks at his mouth, and learns all Muff did by so doing, and a little more: he does not merely look to see if the appearance of the mouth corresponds with the age told him, for he pretty well guesses that the mouth will naturally (or by artificial means be made to) indicate the specified age; but it is to be certain that artificial means have not been resorted to that he looks, and this nothing short of a very competent judge can detect. Should the horse show m.uch unwillingness to allow his mouth to be opened, our friend W^ide-awake would examine it with double scrutiny; and if he fo:ind no tricks had been plnyed as to age, he would very naturally infer that balling 'h:.d for some reasons been pretty frequently in use. Having done this, looking at the eyes and coughing him has of course not been omitted. It is not my province to give, if I was capable of it, a treatise on eyes, though I do not think I should quite buy a blind one; and as to coughing, I must make one observation: some horses who have often undergone this process bscome so irritable in the throat that they cough the moment it is touched, others, from 19 218 BIS DAT QUI CITO DAT. the same cause, namely, practice, can hardly he made to cough at all; while the ihorouj^hly-sound unpractised horse, on being tried, gives a fine sound vigorous cough, and there ends it: for though a broken- winded one may be so do.^ed and set as to be made breathe like a sound one for many hours, I defy all the lowest thieves of dealers in the world to make him cough like a sound one. All these prelimina- ries having been gone through, our friend (as I may very appropriately term him) makes his dernier examination by lifting up his horse's tail. Now had Muff done this, he would have learned about as much as he did by looking in his horse's mouth; namely, he would have seen there was something there: but Wide-awake judges by the appear- ance of wlvat he sees there — a something that gives him a shrewd gue.ss as to the hardihood of his horse's constitu- tion. I am not, however, presuming to write instructions on buying a horse: I am only showing the different modest of trial or purchasing between two buyers. The horse is now ordered to be saddled. Wide-awake hums no scena from La Sonnainhula or any thing else; here he attends to his business on hand, follows his horse into the stable, sees him saddled, sees he shows no reluc- tance or vice, and on baing brought out, and just seeing the stirrups are somewhere about his length, mounts his horse at once, gives him his head, and lets him walk away; tries his trot and canter; now comes back, having while out privately again looked at his horse when left quietly to himself. On returning to the yard, all Tom ventures to say will be, "I hope you like him, sir! 3^ou found him a good goer, sir I" The probable answer will be, "Yes, I do not dislike his riding, anrl he is a very fair goer." This buyer we will suppose also gives his check, but, without waiting to be waylaid by Tom, goes into the stable, and gives his half crown. Tom, however, from habit cannot help the "You've got a good horse, sir," in addition to touching his hat. Tom says no more, being pertectly aware that all he could say would not get a shilling more than he had a right to expect, and what was customary he would get without wasting his breath. 1 have merely by the above supposed case endeavoured to give some idea of the very different probabilities there THE FORCE OF HABIT. 219 are of two persons — the one a judge and the other not so — getting what they want at the hands of a dealer I must add, in any thi?>g — and to show how soon the no- vice and the judge are detected. That the novice will be detected at once is quite clear; but I will farther add, if a man accustomed to look at horses was to wish to pass for one who was not, I do not believe he could do it; a some- thing, an habitual mannerism would detect him: in short, neither party could do any thing like the other. Such men as the Marquis of Abercorn and Lord Lonsdale would both probably show the same refined manners at their own tables, and be equally at home at a Levee; but the former could no more look at a pack of fox-hounds or a stable of hunters in the same wa)^ as the latter would, than the latter's coach-maker could act the part of his noble customer either as host or guest. You could no more tell a man how to act the part of a horseman than you could tell him how to act that of a gentleman : you may tell him not to commit such atrocities as to eat with his knife, wipe his hands on the table-cloth in lieu of his napkin, eat his soup with his spoon lengthways instead of sideways, or to literally wash his mouth in his finger glass; but he will not even sit down on his chair like a gentle- man if he is not one; nor will a novice even walk through a stable like a man used to do so. Habit must give the air of both. If a vulgar man will thrust himself among gentlemen, he is sure to be detected and shunned; and if a man, unaccustomed to the thing, will go and purchase for himself, he is likewise certain to be detected, and im- posed upon. If I have convinced those of this who were not before aware of it, I shall have the satisfaction of knowing I have done some good. I have only as yet supposed men going to reputable dealers: how people may get off in going to those who are not so shall be a farther consideration; and if my reader will so far honour me, we will perhaps walk toge- ther and take a peep into a commission-stable and a public repository— not intending to say any thing in general dis- paragement of either of the last-mentioned places when conducted by men of probit}'; but it may do no harm to know and to keep in our recollection what we are exposed 220 MAKIJWl OR MARRING A SERVANT. to, supposing (of course only jiw^ fir/re/y supposing) the. owner not to be quite immaculate. I left the two gentlemen (each of whom I liavc been rude enough to distinguish as Muff aiid Wide-awake) having purchased their horses — we will now drop the SU' briquet, and in more decent terms designate the non-judge as Mr. A., and the judge as Mr. B., and will suppose each to have had his purchase six weeks, by which time a tole- rably fair estimate may be supposed to have been formed of their respective worth after being used in a moderate way. We shall thus see how" each of these gentlemen stands so far as regards their prospects in a pecuniary point of view — whether they may wish to dispose of their horses again, or keep them. I do not mean to sa}^ the conclusion we shall come to will invariably be the case; but I will answer for it that to two men (of similar habits to each of these) in nine cases out of ten the result will be very near the one I shall in this bring it to. We will not here enter on the subject of grooms, on whose qualifications as stablemen of course much of the well-doing of a horse depends, but will suppose each gentleman to have a good servant. It would be useless to suppose each to -have a bad one; for, though it might be quite possible for Mr. A. not to have a good groom, we may depend upon it Mr. B. would not have a bad one; so we will conclude them to be both good: but we may be pretty certain they will not be equally good, for two rea- sons: first, Mr. A. is of course no better judge of a good stableman than he is of a good horse, while Mr. B. is aia equally competent one of the qualities of either. And farther, Mr. A. probably leaves every thing to his groom, or, if he does interfere, his directions as to stable manage- ment will probably keep pace with his judgment in buy- ing: so, supposing his servant to know his business, his horses derive no more benefit from it than if he did not Thus, under any circumstances, they will not be as well managed as Mr. B.'s, who leaves nothing of importance to his groom, or at least not without a watchful eye that it is properly done: so that, had he taken a man from the plough-tail, he must under his eye become a good servant; that is^ he will learn to handle his wisp, brushy and duster A LITTLE KNOWLEDGE IS A DANGEROUS THING. 221 properly and like a stableman, and not to spare his labour, otherwise B. would very soon spare him. When he knows this, and knows how to feed, water, and exercise horses as may be directed, he knows quite as much as I ever wish a groom to know. There is another thing, however, he must learn, and this Mr. B. would soon teach him; name- ly (like a soldier,) to obey orders without presuming to ask why or wherefore they are given. The moment he is allowed to give his opinion, he is spoiled: defend me from a knowing groom! If 1 was engaging a man, and he told me he could attend horses without a veterinary surgeon, if they wanted one, I should reject him at once. The horses never would be without a ball, drench, or powder in their stomachs! This sort of knowledge may be very well {iii a very limited way) for a stud groom who has twenty or thirty hunters under his care; but then I should take care that Barbadoes aloes, soap, a few carmi- natives, some nitre, a little soap liniment, goulard, and a little dressing or hot stopping for the feet, constituted his pharmacopoeia. If he began talking of calomel, arsenic, alteratives, absorbents, digestives, sudorifics, &c., the mo- ment he had done, I should have done with him. Let him see that his men under him strap: if a horse is amiss, 1st him report at head-quarters that he is so: I will answer for it my monthly report of the state of ni}^ stable is bet- ter than that of those who trust to one of these veterinary grooms. Both horses have now been had the six weeks, so vve will have a look at them, beginning with A.'s nag. Being fat when bought, he concluded he wanted nothing but v^ork to get him into condition. Certainly not; nothing but work to get him into bad condition: it has got his flesh off, and he is lighter, it is true; so would a pound of butter be if we exposed it to the kitchen fire: I have no doubt many dealers' horses might be melted down by the same process. 1 have never tried this, not being an ex- perimentalist, and having an old-fashioned plan of my own for doing it by other means. But others may try it, and s'lould it succeed, I shall have done as much in my way by the suggestion to save time as Brunei or Stephen- son b}^ steam. For here we buy a horse long in his coat 19* 222 MELTING DOWN. perhaps, certainly fat as a bullock: but the time of getting into condition will only be according to the nieltniian not Melt^nian plan, as follows: viz., to melting twelve hours, clipping ditto; so in twenty-four hours v/e have a horse in hunting condition. What a bungler I must be! I never got a fat horse from a dealer's stable into condition under half as many weeks. I do not mean to say Mr. A. has been quite so quick in his operations; but I will answer for him he has brought his horse to a most comfortable state of inward debility, and, in point of outward appear- ance, no bad representative of a Malay-cock stripped of his feather. Des belles plumes font ties heau^K oisecntx: 50 we are told, and a great many plumes give the a])pear- anee of a plump oiseau: so a great deal of fat on a horse often stands good in some people's eyes for very little muscle. Take away that fat, we then find we have got the long Malay-looking gawk of a beast I have simila- rized: but, worse than this, getting fat off by work when the frame is not hard enough to bear it reduces muscle also. So, deficient as the horse ever was we will suppose in that particular, he has been made ten times worse than he would have been by injudicious treatment. There he stands, wasted; what little flesh he has on him soft as hasty-pudding; spiritless from constitutional weakness, and with, in stable language, his belly up to his back-bone: for though a horse blown out with mashes and warm water, and his ribs well covered with fat, may look in good pro- portion, it may be found, when stripped of this fat, that his ribs run backwards something like the strings of a harp, and may probably be about as long as those that make the high notes on that instrument — a diminution that Bochsa will probably approve for a harp, but which I do not consider quite so desirable in a horse. Let us now see what B. has been at with his purchase. I will be bound to say A. did more with his in the way of wasting in a fortnight than B. did in a month, though he had probably given him three q. s. doses of physic in the time. Here he conies^ lightened too of all unnecessary avoirdupois, but cutting rather a different figure — in higli spirits from vigour of constitution — his eye like those of the gazelle — -I had almost said of the fair Theobald her- MISGIVINGS. 223 self; his muscles, now relieved from any superfluous ap- pendages, beautifully developed ; showing a form that in the horse indicates what that of JNlr. Jackson, so well known in the pugilistic world, did in his palmy daj's in a man — strength, courage, and activity. Yes, as a boy I well remember Jackson the beau ideal of a fine man, though not then a young one — of course never a fine gentleman, but a fine felloW;, and no small share of the gentleman in him either. Mais revenons a iios moiitons. Here is one horse, in trade language, certainly fifty per cent, of less value than when bought ; the other, to say the least, thirty per cent, better ; and why ? A fine eye with fine judgment saw what the one horse would become ; whereas the want of both prevented the other purchaser seeing what the other horse would degenerate into : added to which is to be the treatment afterwards. The different position of these two gentlemen after purchase will show why men who know nothing of what they are about universally abuse horse- dealers, while the man who does know what he is doing does not, but estimates them by a proper scale : he knows, as tradesmen, they will impose where they can. I should deserve to be imposed upon if I went to a linen-draper to buy window-curtains instead of sending my wife, when, though I have heard the names, I do not know book- muslin from lawn. The only excuse I could have for en- tering the shop would be a pair of bright eyes behind the counter ; and then I should get a double refined dig as to price, and well worth the money too : she would sport from the extra five shillings a new riband on Sunday : whether a better or worse, it would be a different heart to mine that would grudge it to her. Now if a horse-dealer gets you into his stable, and you get the worst of it (which you certainly will if not a judge,) he gives it you, as if he considered you a gentleman, to a gentlemanlike amount. But the master dealer in jaconets and lenos, or whatever he calls them, entices you in by a Brobdignagian two, and two or three Lilliputian figures afterwards, something in this way, 2*,oia. — the latter in pencil ; and on going into his shop, tells you, on your throwing down six shillings for three yards of quite new or just out, "Oh, sir, 2s. 224 MAKING ALL SAFE. 2\d.\ but it is not what 1 recommend gentlemen like you (you will find Tom's soap here also.) I have a beautiful article (a nice article he is) at 3.9. Qd. :" so, blushing for being taken in, and laughed at by half a dozen little wicked devils with ringlets shaking at you, you pay 10.9. Qd. for what is worth the price you expected to pay, viz. six shillings. Confound the fellow ! Though I allowed my- self to be done by the little Briseis with the radiant eyes, I do not bargain for the same in return for looking at his greenish, grayish, half-squinting, wholly suspicious-looking ogles ! Besides, there is a meanness in the thing, a kind of low petty-larceny sort of cheating that disgusts one. — Not but that I give him all credit for being willing to im- pose on me to any amount if he could ; but what I hate the fellovv for is, cheating for so small a consideration ! — That man's soul would never be " above buttons." To sum up the vvhole, I allow horse-dealers to be roguish enough : they know that in a general way I think them so; but my bootmaker, tailor, butcher, and baker know I think them so too, and never did trust to their honour; and lest they should bring the joke against me, I bring it against myself. Since the partial abolishment of confinement for debt took place, they won't, trust to mine: they are quite right: I began the game by never trusting to them, and, wh)t is more, I never will. One thing I have found from their not trusting me — that at the end of the week two- thirds of every thing do for the same family that used to be booked to my account when my bills were paid quarterly, or, I must allow oftener, half-yearly. Very odd this ; for of course these honourables furnished all that was put down in the bills. But if, as some people say, all tradesmen are more honest than horse-dealers, then what out-and-out su- perfine double-refined XXX rascals all horse dealers must be '. As, however, I know this is not the case, why in that case the true case is this: if you purchase with judg- ment, you will do, buy of whom you may : if you do not, b ly of whom you may or what you may, in that case your case will be in the wrong box. We will now bid adieu to A. and B. and their horses, wdiom I have only introduced to show why men knowing nothing about horses abqse horse-dealers more than they do any other tradesmen.— THE SAME TUNE IN A MINOR KEY. 225 The fact is, such men, knowing less of horses than of other articles they purchnse, lose more by them, and conse- quently always attribute their losses to their having been taken in by the dealer in them : but the truth is, they are only not as much taken in by other dealers, because they are better judges of the articles they deal in : if thej were not, they would be equally taken in by them. We must recollect that Messrs. A. and B. are supposed to have gone to a respectable man, who in no way deceived either (ho great thanks to him, it may be said, as regards B.:) but no matter; the other was not taken in: the two horses perhaps cost originally the same price in a fair, the difference between them only being, one, like Pindar's ra- zors, was "made to .Sd*//," the other to use. If you choose to buy a glass-imitation stick as a curiosity, well and good ; but if you mean to walk or ride with it, you must not be angry with the shopman for selling it you. B. w^ould pro- bably buy a good ground-ash for his purpose, and inwardly smile at your choice: possibly he did so when A. bought the horse. We will now mention a second class of dealer, ^y these I do not mean men of more or less honesty than those who fly at higher game: the same principle acts on both. By second class, I mean men who deal in horses ranging from 30/. to 60/. a-piece. Such men are found in numbers in the more eastern parts of London and the City. These men we may occasionally even now see dressed, as a horse-dealer ought to be, in his single-breasted coat and top-boots, with his whip in his hand; not like his custom- ers, in satin cravats and waistcoats, which give him the ap- pearance of a dealer in such articles,; for if he fancies they give him that of a gentleman, he most wofuUy deceives himself. It draws on him the ridicule of those who merely abstain from expressing their disgust at the imperfect and impertinent attempt at imitation from the feeling that the noticing his dress would be a matter of supererogation, the immeasurable distance between them being such as to ren- der it of no importance. The dealer, however, who has sense enough by a proper appearance, a straight forward bat respectful manner, to show he is willing to pay a pro- per respect to his superiors, will always command tliat re- 226 spect from them that is due to every man whose conduct deserves it, be his situation what it may. Mat Milton was never very courteous in his manners; but gentlemen do not want politeness in a horse-dealer: they only ask civility. An attempt at politeness from a tradesman is imperti- nence: he might as well take a lady's hand to help her to Jier carriage. I can mention a glorious bit of impertinence that took place a few weeks since on the part of one of our 1844 dealers. A gentleman went into his yard: the 7nille- jieurs scented hermaphrodite gentleman-dealer was arrang- ing his well-oiled curls at the moment, (quite maiivais ton of his customer not to wait till he had completed the in- teresting occupation,) though he had gone through this cere- mony every hour. Instead of showing his stables and horses, this puppy turned on his heels, and addressing his foreman, said, "Mr. ," (mind the Mister! — "this gentleman wants to look at a horse!" To make any remarks on his conduct to such a man would be quite useless: he would turn a deaf ear to all remonstrance. I in no shape mean to say that a horse-dealer would be more respected from his manners being coarse or vulgar, or that his dress should be that of a cow-dealer; quite the reverse: his address may be that of a gentleman, and his dress also, without any offence to anyone: but let that dress be appropriate to his pursuits, and if he is fortunate enough to have something of the address of the gentleman, he will not make it more so by attempting the puppy-dandy gentleman, a character by the by now nearly exploded among men of family and fashion: it is, therefore, perhaps not so inappropriate as I at first stated it to be in certain horse-dealers in contradistinction. J. know no man whose dress and address were always more in character with his pursuits in life than Mr. John Shackell, of Oxford Street; always in good taste: and let any man point him out to a stranger as a country gentleman, neither his ap- pearance nor manners would induce you to doubt his being so; and Beau Shackell was always a bit of a Count top, was a very good-looking, not to say handsome man, and kneio it: but I never saw him sport satin (among his horses at least.) I have known men take a copy of his dress as a riding one, but 1 never knew an instance of his forgetting liETTING THE LUNG ODDS. 227 himself SO far as to copy that of any one of his customers, and then wear it in his yard. Let us return to our dealer in proper dress, if such a one is now to be found, or at all events to a man who is not a would-be gentleman. The customers of such men lie a good deal I should s^y among young city men, who sport their hack or buggy with the knowledge and consent of the governor, and frequently their hunter without. Our deal- er, knowing these are safe men, lets them have the latter, and pay for him at their own convenience. This induces the young Nimrod to swear by bell, book, and candle, that Bray (as we will call our dealer) is the best and honestest fellow in the world: so Rray supplies the governor also with what horses he wants. 1 mentioned the name of Bray by chance, as I might have done any other: but as it is always pleasant to say a good word where one can, I had many years back some deals with a Bray (I mean Aaron Bray) for buggy horses, and no msin cotild have behaved better as to them, nor with greater civility than he alway;* did, and now does whenever I see him. From what little 1 know of him, I wish he had made a fortune. I suspect it to be rather difficult to say which dealer has: for we must not trust to appearances. The way in which many people always lose money by buying horses from dealers, whether high or low ones, is of course that they give more than the value of the horses they buy of them. Provided they lose, it may be said it matters little from what cause it arises; but as I always like to look into causes, whether effects are beneficial to me or the reverse, perhaps others may do the same; but, where the effect may be the same, it in no way follows the cause is the same also. In buying a first-rate horse from a first- rate dealer, you give too much, for this reason, he gave too' much for him at first for any purpose; but to sell, he charges you perhaps half as much more; so when he is sold to you, in dealer's slang, " he won't want selling again. '^ If you must not lose by him the devil's in it. Be he as good as represented (and perhaps he is,) you gave too much, unless indeed he turns up trumps; but the crdds are much greater against horses doing so than cards. Now in buying horses of second-rate dealers, you also 228 THE DEAREST NOT ALWAYS THE SAFEST. give too much: but this (of course I speak rn a general way) much more frequently arises from the hoi*se not turning: out what you expect. A really fine horse, with fine action and in fine condition, cannot be much improved by all that can be dane to him; but a rather plain horse with moderate action can be wonderfully altered in his natural appearance when shown; so you run much more risk of being disap- pointed in such horses after you have got them than in su- perior ones. The first-rate dealer's horses, in his language, "want no selling;" they will "sell themselves:" the second-rate dealer's will not, so he must sell fhem. The first-rate dealer has only to talk you into p}nce, for as to the horse, as he might probably tell you, "you can't mistake him;"' now the other lias to talk you into price and horse too. Here I am only speaking of young untried horses, and how far the appearance af the two may aftei'wards correspond with your ideas of them when shown to you. Allow that on being brought home you have given ten pounds too much for a forty-five pound horse: as he is just as likely to be sound as the other, and equally likely to turn out good for the purpose he is wanted, you still have 35/. for your 45/. Should he turn out but badly, he must be bad indeed if he will not bring 25/.; so there is but 20/. lost, though you were disappointed in his looks and goodness: whereas should the other look as well as he did, and also disappoint you, the loss will in no shape merel}^ be in proportion. If it would, it wonld merely be that each buyer lost according to his means and capital: but it would not, and for this rea- son: the dealer in lower-priced horses is more careful in buying; first, because he cannot afford to speculate so largely on looks as the other, knowing his customers will not; so he gives no more than he knows his horse is worth, and therefore can afford to sell to you at something like his value: the other charges you twice what he is worth even if he turns out well. Thus, though, as I have said, the in- ferior horse may disappoint you the most as to looks on a second inspection, and you see you have paid somewhat tjo much, the other will disappoint you three times as much in point of his price. Good or bad, in either case you will most probably lose; but your risk in buying an untried A BLACK DKAUGIIT. 22f) horse of the first class of a fashionable dealer is truly awfuj, even if he does not deceive you so far as the horse goes. These ridiculous prices have been chiefly brought on by dealers (who have capital) supplying horses on credit: their customers don't care what they give, and, comparatively speaking, the dealer therefore don't care what he gives to supply them. Go into one of their stables, they will not open their mouths under 150/. Men willing to pay, and not judges, so constantly hear of these prices, that they really fancy nothing is to be got under; so they give it also: if they will, the dealer is a fool if he does not make them do so. Let me tell gentlemen also, that in the stables of second- rate respectable dealers they will very frequently find the identical horse they had been asked 150/. for standing for sale at 70/., about as much as ever should have been asked for him: not that he is a shilling worse than he Was three months since; but he has got into a stable where every cus- tomer is not a 150-pounder; nor does its master give quite such unlimited credit: neither does he talk of his cham- pagne to customers, some of whom, being deeply dipped with him, bear with his impertinence (I pity the man who is.) A nobleman taking champagne at the table of a flash horse-dealer is, I conceive, an occurrence more to be "ho- noured in the breach than the performance;" but a refusal might for sundry reasons be made unpleasant to his lord- ship : so, as 1 give him credit for feeling the "performance'' unpleasant, it is something like a dose of physic, neither pleasant in the breach nor the performance, so the sooner it is got rid of the better. From such dealers as do not advertise "fifty young sound fresh horses from Horncastle' fair," we may also get horses of whose merits, when we come to use them, we may judge from their having beerif at work: so it is our own fault if we are much deceived in them; for though we are not in the hands of one of the high-flyers, we are in those of a respectable man (we mean by and by to have a look at tlve regular coper who lives by screws.) From respectable middling dealers, numbers of good horses, and good hunters too, are to be got; and if a man wants a horse lo go to work, he is much more likely to suit himself with them than with the generality of those 20 230 ESTABLISU^IEI^TS FOR LOVER?, who deal m higher-pricec! horses; for if the latter onTj get fashlonable-lookrng ones, their object i& attained. A purchaser should always bear in mind w^hat it is that brings horses to moderate prices: it is in the generality of cases one of these drawbacks — want of beauty, want of ac- tion, want of soundness, or want of temper; for if a horse i& perfectly sound, free from all vice, has beauty and fine action, he cannot be bought of ffn^y dealer under a high figure. Still such a harse certainly may be purchased for nearly half the sirm of one dealer than, he can of another, and for this reason: OBe dealer has nc?t so many CHstomers who give enormous prices as the other has; so he must selJ at less prices, or not .ve// ai all. Some ladies fancy they cannot get "a love of a shawl " unless they go- ta the most expensive house ta buy it. The prayers of the sinful are oever heard : I have cursed two or three of these establish- ments for "loves of things" to their hearts^ content; but, confound them J there they stand, aixl while they do I sup- pose our wives wiU go to them; and so wqll ceiiain men pay much more for their hoi-ses than they need do, because they also come from a particular establishment. I have, I remember, in an early part of these " Hints,^^ said that a man knowing little of horses will in the end pro- bably find a respectable dealer the best source whence to supply himself: 1 say so again; but the term respectable may perhaps bear a different import in different people's minds. I mean, by a respectable man, one who values his character too. much to commit acts incompatible with the character of being as fair in his dealings as we may expect any trader to be; but I do not consider respectability in- volves the necessity of imitating Lord Chesterfield in the colour or tie of his cravat. Cravats at a pound a-piece will not last for ever, nor will a case of champagne. If these are not paid for by the user out of a private fortune, they miist be paid for by some one else. " What good-natured people they must be who do pay for them !^' A man may say, and with truth, he wants a fine horse, and does not know where to get him but somewhere where satin is worn ; pjrhaps he does not know where else to get him. I dare say he does not; but there are plenty of men who do, and a man must be badly off for friends if he cannot find one A DEAR HORSE. 231 who will take this trouble for him. Btit then the money must be forthcoming; promises or " bits of stifT'^ won't do for men who will take a reasonable profit, and want their money to go to 'market with; for " bits of stiff" won't do there either. A friend of mine, who is a very fair judge of a horse, two years since merely wanted one to carry him safely and pleasantly on the road: he rides heavy, is a liberal man, so was willing to pay a liberal price, and he did so (very con- siderably more than a hundred.) The horse did not suit him, though what the dealer said of him could not be con- tradicted (for pleasantry to ride is rather a va^ue and inde- finite term, depending so mnch on ideas as to what is plea- sant.) He was immediately changed: money changed hands also, of course. The new purchase did not suit either; was most civilly (I beg the dealer's pardon for the term as applied to him) — well, then, mosty;o//7e/^ — changed also, and the difference in price as politely taken. This went on till my friend, despairing of getting a riding-horse, and wanting a match carriage-hoise, took one, I believe, this time without giving money, and he got a fair useful ordinary carriage-horse. He told me some time afterwards, that, on looking to his memoranda, he had given, first cost and differences of exchange, an amount during the time that made this carriage-horse stand him in a trifle ov^er 600/., and he is a man who strictly adheres to the truth. " Cham- pagne for ever!'^ 1 have said that many men are really at a loss where to find a horse if they want him. These are only men who never buy a horse but as they do a dinner-service, namel}', when the one is broken, or a change of fashion induces them to do so. If a man is known as a connoisseur in pictures, or bronzes, or books, he is at no loss where to find them; he need not even seek them. The dealers in such articles will take very good care he shall not be; but, on the con- trary, will wait on Mr. — or his lordship the moment they think they have got any thing they can persuade him to buy. So it is with horses. If tiie Marquis of Anglesey wanted a park-horse or a charger, or the late Lord Sefton a carriage-horse (both as first-rate judges of these different horses as of things that require a more refined taste to he a ^32 judge of) — these noblemen need not hunt dealers' stables for horses. In the first place, the pad groom or the coach- man will soon let it he known in the right quarter that my lord has room for a horse: the dealers know to a hair what horse will suit each: they know it Vv^ould be useless to show or send any other, and they farther know they must not play tricks here: the connexion, they being able to say they supply such men, is too great an advantage to risk the loss of: and, though they know they will be paid a liberal price, they also know tlie}^ will not be paid a ridiculous one. They know, if a horse cannot handle his legs like Taglioni, the marquis won't ride him; and, unless his pace and action were first-rate, they knew Lord Sefton would not have driven him. A dealer requires a good deal of tact to act the best for |iis own interest with his different customers. With some of these his business is to literally suit and please them, that they niay say they buy horses of such-and-such men, and they have always behaved well and fairly. Now they would not say they were treated fairly if the horses they bought did not generally answer their expectations; and they would be right in saying so, because they would not, like the bad judge, buy what by nature was inappropriate to the purpose wanted: so the not suiting would proceed from some hidden fault or failing, not from the evident want of judgment in the selection. The dealer knows this, and consequently, knowing that in such cases he has no ex- cuse, is very careful in selling. Such men, barring the risk inseparable from purchasing untried horses, generally do not get disappointed: when they are, they are sensible and liberal enough to blame if blame is due, and not to censure where censure would be injustice. In the event of a horse not answering their purpose, they would send for or go to the dealer, and something like the following remarks would probably take place — ■" Well, Collins," (we will say Collins as well as any other name,) " that horse does not turn out as well as we expected." — "I'm sorry for it, my lord :'^ (in this case he is so:) "I hope you found him as near aa I could judge what I told your lordship." — "Yes, I have no fault to find; he is sound and quiet, and goes well; but he is a jade, and, after going a dozen miles, he is not worth a "dillt, dilly, won't you come to be killed?" 233 farthing." — {Mem. one of the blessings of buying young fj-esli horses!) — " I shall be most happy, iny lord, t-o change him for any thing in my stables; or, if there is nothing there your lordship likes, I vv'ill look out immediatel}-, and you will perhaps be kind enougi;. my lord, to drive the brute till I have got what will suit your lordship." He either supplies another from his stable, or hunts for one in others; and in all probability he suits his noble purchaser. Now, though I never recommend any one to change a horse with a dealer when he has once been deceived, in tliis case my lord did quite right in going back to the same dealer, for he had not been deceived by him: the only de- ception was in the horse: he had deceived both dealer and purchaser; and such cases must occasionally occur with many young horses, which sometimes beat the best judg- ment. In the case I have alluded to, the dealer would not ask a shilling for the exchange (provided of course that his cus- tomer takes a horse of the same class:) but his lordship, unsolicited, hands him probably, when suited, a ten-pound note for his trouble and civility. This is as the thing should be: the dealer has made a fair profit, and acted the part of a respectable man, while his customer has not for- gotten he is a nobleman. Now there is another sort of customer that it is the deal- er's interest neither to take in, nor offend, nor suit. This customer buys on his own judgment; consequently never is, or probably never will be suited till he gets some other person to buy for him. He cannot blame the dealer so long as the horses are sound and free from vice; nor will he of course blame himself: he attributes it all to ill luck. This man is a regular income to the dealer, who of course makes his market of him, and still retains his own character and the good opinion of his customer. These sort of men, like trout, only want a little tickling, and will be had just as easily. Now the dealer understands tickling, so makes sure of his fish, and does him (as all cooks should do their fish) a nice hrovjn. There are, of course, various classes of dealers, descend- ing to the lowest: but we must not seek out all there: neither the space any periodical can afford to the same sub- 20* 334 "a rope's end to iiim." jcct. nor its readers' patience, would admit of this; we will therefore make acquaintance vvith the low dealer — and a very low and dangerous acquaintance he is. Of these there are various sorts; but I hope I shall not be considered to confound the dealer, who, being low in pocket, can only deal in low-priced horses, and but few of them, perhaps, with the regular organized scoundrel, low in manners, low in pursuits, and still lower in principle. There are many decent and respectable men who can only keep two or three 20/. or 30/. horses, that are quite as worthy of confidence as their more opulent brethren. These men ride their own horses about the streets, show them to tlieir customers, and often act as useful middle men in finding horses for them, if their own circumscribed means will not enable them to do so from their own stable. These are probably young men beginning vvith a capital of 50/., qr dealers who have seen better days. The men I desisrnate as low dealers are of various other sorts, of which I will mention, first, the thoroughly low, half pig-jobbing, half horse-dealing-looking vagabond, with a greasy macintosh, a pair of ma/iOgan7/-cQ\oured top-boots, a red worsted comforter round his neck, arriving with his confederate in a wretched gig, with the still more wretched lame, spavinous anatomy of a good one drawing it. . These fellows are to be seen in every fair. Thej^ do not go there like the respectable man, certain to buy if the fair produces what he wants : they certainly do mean to buy if what they want presents itself, that is, if by means of the rascal- ity, bullying, blackguardism, and united efforts of them- selves and their worthy coadjutors, they can cajole or bully any one out of his horse for little or nothing, doing also a little business in selling a regular flat-catcher at five times his worth. They are also ready to do any bit of rascality fqr another dealer, which he, although a rogue, is not open-faced rascal enough to do for himself. To such fellow dealers often intrust the sale of something they may have by them that is too bad to own ; yet will you find p'^ople weak enough to buy of such fellows a horse for 20/. that^ny one could see, if he could see at all, would be \> orth 60/. if he was half what they represented him fo be. A man nviy be tr.!;en in by a respectable and fairrdealing EXPERIMENTALIZING. 235 exterior ; but I do not think I ever saw one of these fellows hut on whose countenance was written rascal as legibly as we see written Dr. Eady or Warren's Blacking on the Park walls. These fellows will be seen either bustling about a fair, or planting themselves at what they call " Catch'em Corner," which means some spot where every horse pa- raded in the fair must pass them. Here they stop every one, and ascertain the price asked for him. Should they he asked 60/., they will laugh outright, ask if the person tliinks them fools, or say, "Ask me 20/., and I'll talk to you." This, though they have no idea of buying the horse, they do for these reasons : it can do them no harm; no one knows what an owner may take rather than not sell ; and they know it does what it is their business to do, throws a damp on the seller's hopes. He had perhaps made up his mind, if he found he could not do better, to take ten or fifteen pounds less than he asked ; and, had they talked of forty instead of sixty, he* would consider either he asked twenty too much, or that they wanted to get his horse at too little. But to be told to ask twenty (which of course m.eans that less would be offered if he did) for a sixty- pound nag is such a choker, that the owner (if he is not used to such things) hardly knows whether he or his horse stand on their heads or heels. He cannot conceive any man would have tlie impudence to make such a remark unless he had seen something radically bad about the horse that had escaped the owner's notice. He is almost tempted to look at his horse's eyes to ascertain whether he has gone blind. Now if one of these worthies perceive any thino- of this, thougli, when he courteously begged to be asked 20/., he had not the remotest idea he should get him, he now begins to think the thing, though still improbable, by no means impossible, and as, if he fails, it will cost him nothing, he resolves to "try it on;" and something like the following very refmed remark will probably be made to some other worthy : " I say. Jack, I think the gammon fits a bit, don't it?" "Go after Johnny, and tell him I want to show him the Queen's face." From this moment our respectable acquaintance and his friend dotormine that thoy will have tlie horse, or that he 23S phTsic gratis. shall not be sold at all. They certainly cannol determine he shall be theirs, but if they set about it, they certainly will, in nineteen cases out of twenty, prevent his being bought by any one else. It may be fifty to one against their getting him; but if in one case in fifty they do succeed, it is all in their favour, for spoiling the sale of forty-nine horses costs them nothing, and getting the fiftieth is all monp.y in their pockets. Conscience tliey have none; so the virtually robbing, or, to use a milder term, spoiling the market of forty-nine persons to the tune of hundreds, is nothing in their estimation, if it gains them twenty, ten, or five pounds, ay, or five shillings. But how can they spoil the sale, may be asked ? Very easily ; and this is one of the hundred ways in which they do it. People are always more prone to listen to any censure than they are to praise of c/?i7/ thing. A bit of scandal always goes down. Ay, blush, fellow man, when I assert that it does so even when scandal is levelled at lovely woman : there is a devilish sort of pleasure mankind has in hearing other persons or their property abused. Roche- foucault was not much out when he said, II y a qiielque chose dans les malheiirs de nos nieillenrs amis qui i c nous deplait pas. He knew human, I might say inhuman, nature; one word said in dispraise will go farther in bias- sing men's minds, than twenty said in commendation — whether it be in the case of a horse, a woman's character, or Captain Warner's invisible annihilator. I fully intend visiting a commission stable and repository ; but really dealers are such funny fellows, 1 should be sorry to show them any inattention, which I must do if 1 leave them too soon. I beg to observe, when I speak of them personally, I never declare more than the truth, or any thing but the truth ; but 1 do not wish to declare the whole truth, unless any one wishes it. I only give a mild alter- ative. If I should find this produces irritability instead of a '\vholesome tone of body and mind, I have some medicine of a more drastic nature by me that I never administer but '^"ii extreme cases, or where it is desired. As to repositories, I shall not forget my promise to walk into them. The worthy pair I have just mentioned having half persuaded the owner, and quite persuaded many others, WIZARDS OF THE EAST, WEST, NORTH, AND SOUTH. 237 that there is something wrong about the horse (for the opinion or even insinuation of a third party will in ninety- nine cases out of a hundred go farther in persuading people that a horse has some fault than all the owner can say to the contrary) — they now seek a little adjunct in the servant. If he is a fool, they really do satisfy him the horse is worth little more than they have offered; and then letting him know that a couple of sovereigns will be his if they buy, in no way of course tends to induce him to alter this opinion ; and he then begins to recommend his master to sell him if possible. Should they, however, find the man has sense enough not to be their dupe, they then try his honesty and bid high ; and I fear on this tack they too often succeed. Having paved the way in either case to the assistant offices of the servant, their game is now to appear to have given up all wish for the horse, which one of them, however, keeps a sharp eye on, and also on every one they see even looking at him. Should any one seem disposed to do this, the fellow on the watch accosts him — " Nice nag that, sir, to look at ! / was pretty near putting my foot in it with him." — " Why," says the looker-on, " is any thing the matter with him ?" — " Oh no, not for some people ; hut " And he walks away, imitating a lame horse. This is enough ; the looker-on thanks his stars he was not done, and how fortunate he was to have seen that man ! The other miscreant, while this is going on, gets back again to Catch'em Corner to see if he can start any fresh game, taking care, however, to pass and repass the owner of the horse as often as he can, to show he has given him up, waiting, hoping, and fully expecting (in which he is seldom disappointed) that the owner will come to him. I think I see the fellow standing with a longish ground ash in his hand, which he either keeps bending about or has it with his hand deep in his coat-pocket. I know the very position of the vagabond. Here he stops every pass- ing horse, with something like the following very pleasant mode of address. If he sees a gentleman on a horse that is not a colt, he begins, in a particularly civil voice, " Beg pardon, sir ! what are you axing for the old horse ?" — Should a servant be on one that looks in good working condition, he begins with, " Now, then, how much for the i^3S A SPEECH. notomy ? wo, old Step-and-fetch-it : let's look at you" — this of course loud enough to be heard by all by-standers. The chance is, that some friend or other of the dealer, seeing what is going on, gives the thing a lift, and, address- ing him, says, '* I say. Brown," (or whatever the fellow's name may be,) "are you going to 'stound Smithfield?" — This raises a laugh against both groom and horse. Now, nothing people hate more than to be laughed at. The dealer knows this; so tells the groom to come on one side out of the crowd. Glad to make his escape, he goes. — Here both soap and money are tried on; and, as the groom would almost sell himself rather than be again exposed to the sneers of the multitude, it will be no wonder if he is anxious to sell the horse, vvhich he does if the price is left to him; if not, he does all he can to persuade his master to do so. The dislike to this kind of publicity that most respect- able persons have is one of the many engines these fellows work to obtain their ends, either in buying or selling; and many good horses are really sold at half what the owner expected, and many bad ones bought, actually to avoid the slang and blackguardism of these low vagabonds and their companions. Now w^e will suppose, what probably will be the result, does occur. The former gentleman, finding to his groat surprise (not being aware of the sale of his horse being previously spoiled) that he gets no offers made for him ex- cept by friends of the dealer, who have been sent to offer him even less than he did, he goes to the dealer, and talks of taking, say 10/. more than he had offered, and 30/. less than he (the owner) had asked: but he now finds the case altered ; that is, it is represented to be so : he will be told that the dealer having seen more of the horse, does not like him at all, or he has bought two others, which are all he wants : besides, " talking of thirty pounds, sir, why, there's a horsed I bought him (showing one belonging to some friend who is perhaps asking 50/. for him) for IS/. : he is worth two of this old 'un."^-" Very well," says the gentleman, "then you decline him : go home, Thomas." — ^■' Why, as to that, sir, I don't mind buying him ut a price.^' " Well, wait, Thomas."— He now tries the civil, candid tack ; " dares to say the horse is a good horse ; is ^ure the CATCHI>'G A WEASEL ASLEEP. 239 geiTtfeman vroulcl not deceive him — (Mem. no fear of (hnt f) — dares to say the gentleman thinks he offers a low price j but country gientlemen don^t know what sich horses are worth in Lunnun : he couldn't sell him as a sound un to none o[ his customers, not by no means; he should sell him for a homnibus to his brother, who wanted one; he mlglit do a little vork in leather; wishes for the gentle- man's sake he could give more; ^twoald be better for he and the gentleman too if he could ! he has three fivers left; he would give that, but he would as soon be without him." It ends in his getting him : he gives the servant half-a-crown openly — (says nothing of the two sovereigns given before) — then tells the gentleman '-he hopes he'll remember his man ; says the rule is a gentleman gives double what the dealer gives." The man gets five shillings, half of which goes to the master. 'J'hus this and many other horses are sold, and this is often the result of people unaccustomed to such places going to fairs to sell their own horses. They are detected at once by such vagabonds as I have described: a regular plant is made on them, and they are legally- robbed of their property, or at least something very near it, A man who may read what I have described may say he would not be so green as to be done in that way.— Probably he might not, but there are hundreds who would; and it is still possible, that, had the gentleman not read what I have written on the subject, he might, notwith- standing his confidence in himself, have been done precisely in such a manner. Having had the plot laid bare to him, he thinks it would never have succeeded with him. This cannot be proved ; s^o it only remains a matter of opinion between him and me: and though our opinions in this dif- fer, I have put him a little on his guard for the future, I have, if 1 feel, done him some service,though he thinks, that, like weasels, he was not to be caught asleep. But let me tell him, there are some nfce lads among the low-dealing fraternity, and perhaps simple-looking ones too, who would even take the above named watchful animal dozing. I have only mentioned one among the thousand modes of doing the provincials, and I should like to bet any wide-awake friend long odds that if he goes into a fair they will find a moment to catcb him napping. When they have, he will 240 "jockey of norfolKj perhaps wish he had taken Harry Hie'over's advice, and not trusted to his vveasel-hke attributes, or fancied himself to have got au fond de son mttier as a salesman. I have merely attempted to give a rough sketch of ane of the scenes in a fair: it would render these hints too lengthened were 1 even to give the heads of the various changes to be rung by rascality, all tending to the same result, where the actors are of the same class; and I can assure my friends, at least those who have but ordinary experience in such matters, that on all and every occasion where the deal with such scamps as I allude to takes place, they will be robbed to a certainty. Let them not fancy they can escape, for escape is all but impossible. The most knowing are not always a match for deliberate, and, above all, confederate villany. The once celebrated George Barrington was on some occasion brought in contact with a magistrate in the lat- ter's private room. On Barrington pulling out his hand- kerchief, he with it pulled out of his pocket a quecr-look- ing little instrument with a hook or hooks at the end of it. The magistrate inquired its use. On being plainly told it had been made for the purpose of picking pockets, the ma- gistrate jokingly asked Barrington if he thought he could by this means extract any thing from his pocket without his feeling it? He replied, he did not think he could; and the magistrate as confidently felt he could not. Shortly after, Barrington went to the window and began abusing some passer-by on some pretended charge of ill-usage of himself: he (the stranger) of course expostulated: this led to high words: the magistrate came to the window to see what was the matter, and, finding one of the two must be wrongs requested the stranger to walk in, and he would see into the merits of the case; and he left the room to go to the stranger. On his return, he found Barrington gone, who of course did not wish any interview with the stranger, who consequently took himself off also. This was well enough; but, on wishing to see the hour, his worship dis- covered that his watch w\as gone too. He now remem- bered the hook. Barrington, not daring to keep it, re- turned with it next day, when, if report says true, the ma- "THE EAGLE DOES NOT TAKE FLIES.'* 241 gistrate presented it to him for his ingenuity: if so, he was a trump. I hope my friends will believe me when I say that a horse in the hands of a certain set is to be made as effica- cious an instrument for picking pockets as George Bar- rington's hooks. They may forget themselves, and be in- duced (if not to look out of window as the worthy magis- trate was) to do something that puts their pockets in quite as much danger. Whether in buying or selling, the only way is to have nothing to do with these gentry: never fan- cy you can guard against their tricks: they have a dodge at every turn. Nice lads to get a bargain of! Yes, they will give you a bargain, '•'with a hook.^' We will shortly show how these fellows act when a gentleman or any other individual wants to buy; for they will have a finger in the pie here too. I have before said, these scamps do not come to fairs (in the common accep- tation of the term) to buy, that is, they do not come to buy a certain number of horses to take away to be sold at a proper and general profit. If they can buy, as I have re- presented, a horse for a quarter of his value, in which so far as one or two they generally succeed in doing, they buy, and of course do not object to their being sound: but they would much prefer buying what they term a " good screw " at ten or twelve pounds, that would be worth sixty or seventy if he was sound, to buying a sound horse at thirty that in ordinary dealing they might expect to sell for forty. It is by screws they live, and why they do so is easily explained. For instance: a good sort of (what dealers term) tradesman's horse, six years old, sound and a fair goer, is worth we will say forty pounds. This is one of the kind of horses that can be valued as easily as the gig or four-wheel he is destined to draw: take him where you will, he is worth within two pounds, more or less, of that sum: his size, age, looks, and action, will al- ways command about that; but there is nothing in him to command more: every man who knows a horse from a hand-saw can judge his price; there is no flatching in him. Go to Burford's stables; 1 doubt not among his other horses he will show you twenty of this stamp: he must keep some such among others for his customers. But this is not a 21 242 hie! PRESlro. money-making sort of horse: lie cafi only be sold at a fair profit, like a sheep or a bullock. Now this sort of horse would not do for Rascal-dealer at all: he could not get a LOB out of him: consequently he never buys such (in a fair way at least:) he does, if, as I have shown, he can do some one out of him for fifteen or sixteen pounds, not otherwise. There are horses that no man alive can value — such as hunters, horses of e:^traordinary beauty, or horses of extra- ordinary pretensions as to going. Such horses are worth just what different people choose to give for them. These are the horses to bring the profit to first-rate dealers; but, as Rascal-dealer cannot touch them, he must find some- thing else whose value— or, I should in this case sa}^, worthlessnes3 — cannot be easily defined; and this is the good screw. What he terms "a good screw'' is a horse whose complaint or tricks can be so palliated or concealed for a time as to prevent their being defected (sometimes even by a good judge.) It would be useless my attempt- ing to describe the thotisand-and-one ways to which such fellows resort to produce the desired effect: it would fill a good-sized volume; and then the ordinary run of buyers would be still unable to detect them. A man may be told that the conjurer does not leave the watch in the box, as he pretends to do; but if the man sees the watch in the box, locks it himself, keeps the key, and on again opening it finds the watch gone, it only amounts to " How di^ he get it out?" after all. The truth is, the conjurer was too quick for him; and depend on it Rascal-dealer would be too quick too, notwithstanding dl the previous infor- mation or fancied knowledge the buyer might have. Particular shoeing, beaning, (or other ways of producing the same effect,) hot water, stimulants, sedatives, phj'sic, copious general, or local bleedings, rest or constant exer- cise, tonics, sickening medicine, fiiti'gue-, keeping a horse aw^ake for three or four nights and days, wilf all pro- duce wonderful effects on horses in palliating lameness, bad eyes, bad wind, internal or external weakness, vice, or violence. People will suppose a horse's throat an open sepulchre when I tell them I have once seeri^ as many as six-and-thirty balls popped down a broken-winded one's throat OEte after the other: it is nevertheless fact: he seemed A GO. 243 to take it as a matter of course. I saw the same horse sold more than ten times over in Dublin in about six weeks; so, as he doubtless got his dose each time he was sold, reckoning by lengtb, he got in time about thirty yards of ball down his throat. Pretty well for the time! If he has gone on ever since, I conclude his inside has by this time l3ecome tolerably well lubricated. I have mentioned sickening medicines, and it might ap- pear to some persons strange that a dealer should wish to sicken his own horse. Well, then, suppose a dealer has bought a thoroughly-known vicious restive run-away brute — to be sold he must be tried; and to be tried, he must be rode. Now it is not so extraordinary he should wi&h to sicken him a bit. If my reader has ever enjoyed the pleasant sensation of a thorough sea-sickness, I will answer for him, that, hasty or belligerent as he might be on ordi- nary occasions, he was tame enough then: so I have seen horses so violent that it was next to impossible to mount them, and as difficult to keep on their backs when mounted, rendered so sick and tame that you might have lifted them into a wagon for all they cared at the time; and thus have they been prepared when "the gentleman was coming to ride them." In a few hours the effect goes off, and then, when the gentleman attempts to ride, probably he goes off too. " Very astonishing! nothing could carry him quieter than the horse did yesterday." If the gentleman is only astonished, he is very lucky; but he is farther astonished, when, on calling on the dealer, he probably has also gone: so altogether he finds it a very pretty go! — The first go was wrong in going to such fellows. But suppose Mr. Rascal does not mean to go, but stands his ground, and takes the horse back: he then brings this violent customer of a horse to his senses in another way, and for a more permanent (but still temporary) period. He ties my gentleman's head up to the rack, which he gives him full permission to look at; if he can derive any nourishment from that, he is at liberty to do so: a man is placed behind him with a whip night and day: this keeps the horse from getting a wink of sleep — the man of course relieved by a substitute. The horse does not find himself particularly relieved by this process, nor is the substitute 244 ONE OF THE TEMPERANCE SOCIETY. behind him and two or three pounds of hay and a little water n very pleasant substitute for good feedinp;; nor is the addition of his forty-eight hours' vigil any pleasing ad- dition to his comfort. Mr. Horse begins to find this any- thing but a joke, and keeps looking round as far as he can to see if any one is coming. Right glad would he be to welcome the very man whose brains he would have tried to have knocked out two days before if he went up to him; but no, there is the man on the stool of reform, and Mr. Horse finds himself on the stool of repentance. He is now well prepared by abstinence for a dose of physic; very sick; no sleep allowed; warm water ad libitum; must not be made to look too lanky. By the time the physic has done, and four days and nights of constant wakefulness, with nothing bat a little bran and warm water, have passed, with what weakness, drowsiness, and fatigue, there is little doubt of the horse carrying quietly enough. He is accordingly ridden; if any remains of res- tiveness or vice appear, he gets first a sound thrashing, which he is too dispirited to resist, and then he gets another night of it till he is thoroughly tamed and browbeaten: he is again sold; and probably, though then put on proper feeding and allowed proper rest, it takes some days before he so far recovers himself as to resume his former habits. Perhaps, from having been thoroughly cowed, he never does become quite as violent as he was before; but restive he will be no doubt. Now what is the purchaser to do? He cannot most probably prove the horse had been restive, while Mr. Rascal will not only swear, but bring plenty of witnesses to swear, he never was; and indeed the gentle- man and his groom cannot help allowing that for a week the horse was quiet. If he goes to law and gains his cause, it will cost him a good deal of money and a great deal of trouble; and the chances are that so many witnesses will outs wear him. The only wise thing for him to do is to give the scoundrel a sum to take him back, which he will do, as such a horse is an income to him: he is a good screw, though not a lame one, and will be sold over and over again by the same party and his coadjutors. Having mentioned Dublin, and a horse there, I will men- tion another that I saw sold there, at the different Reposi- A FOREIGNER. 245 torles and fairs In the neighbourhood, I should say twenty times. The fact was, if he was sold on Tuesday at one Re- pository, he was certain to be on Friday for sale at another, as the buyer was sure to find him out in an hour after he had got him. He was what is termed ''a chinked-backed one;'^ that is, he had been injured in the spine. Many of these horses will do well enough with no weight on them when going straight along: stop them short, or turn them round quickly, the secret is out at once ; but this is of course avoided when shown for sale. The horse I allude to was a very good-looking harness-like horse, five-years-old, and worth fifty if he had been sound: he was in the hands, or at least was most of his time in the hands of one of these Mr. Rascals: he was not only a good, but a superfine screw to him. Ononeof the variousoccasionsof this horse beingsold I was much amused at the fellow's consummate impudence and ingenuity. Some of my readers may have to learn that a horse thus injured in the spine is, in dealer's slang, termed ^ost any circumstances in swapping, is to draw money. Ik this" particular, I care nat be he of the highest or lowest grade, — the fixed principle is the same. 1 do not mean to say he would refuse to take a h-orse worth sixty for one worth twenty without boot; but I will pound Mm he will try £o get it. Let dealers deny it if they can (and if they were to deny it ta me, it would be of no use) — they in a general way expect to get the horse they swap (figura- tively speaking) for nothing. In fact, you will hardly get one to swap with you at all, if you have known the price of his horse beforehand r he will be sure then to be "quite full'^ — ^"expecting a lot from some fair" — ^^ shall have to hire" stables for them." — Mem. he would have found room rf you had not known the price of the horse you Want. Now though I am quite sure you could have done yourself no gooxJ by th-e swap had you made it, you may, without sus- pecting how, have put yoirrself in the wa}- of selling, I shouM say sacrificing, your horse" by attempting the swap, and I will tell you how. Dealer hasseen your horse, likes him, and Would buy him at (in his phrase) a price. We will say he wants a hundred for his horse, and you a hun- dred for yours, and, as a supposed case, the one is as wel'l worth it as the other. You would give ten or fifteen pounds for the ac^commodation of the exchange". Here dealer's faculties become again obtuse: this is one of the exchanges he don't understand. No, "this will never do for Galway,'^ as the song goes. Now if he could sell you his at a hundred, and get yours at fifty, it would do. He understands this, but you do not, and he would be afraid^ to try to make you; so, as he would say, "he could not! WORK." But he will though in another way. Now, if^ 252 "THE MANAGER AT HOME." as I suppose, he likes your horse, and can get him "at a price," and sell you his too at his price, he won't have made a bad day's work of it: but supposing he does not want your horse, and can only sell you his, depend upon it his time will not have been lost. He knows you will buy his; so the first thing is to get your horse in his way or out of his way as may best suit him. — {Mem. this is another little naturel way he has!) — Now to do this, our lately neglected Rascal is employed: he calls at your stables, "has heard from (any one but the person he did hear it from) that you have a horse to sell." Now the w^ay he will ivo7^k will depend upon the hints he has got of your habits, temper, and knowledge of horses: he either "does not care about price, will give any thing for a nice-^un;^^ and then points out fifty things that makes yours a very nasty one; or he comes the candid and civil: "does not mislike the horse; is but a poor man; if he can make two or three pounds by him, he is satisfied;" and so forth: or, "he wants him for a gemman what won't buy no horse without him seeing him: will bring the gemmj^n." He does so: "the gemman don't like the horse at all:^^ he persuades him strongly to buy him. We will say the gemman does not buy the horse: " Well," sa3'S the owner to himself, " i\\e poor man did all he could to sell the horse at any rate:" so Rascal gets something for his trouble. The horse has been tolerably abused by this time, at least so far as gemman dare abuse him, and the owner is left to digest this at his leisure. This is only paving the way for ano- ther gemman that Rascal brings; and it rarely happens but the horse is got, and either goes to the dealer's stables who wanted him, or is sold somewhere else. Thus, in point of fact, the swap will be made, not indeed exactly as the gentleman meant, but very nearly on the same and only terms on which dealer would have swapped in his own yard. Most probably, on the gentleman purchasing the horse he wanted to swap for, something is said about the other. Dealer now takes his cue, and says something to this effect: " Why, sir, your horse was certainly a very clever nag, but 1 tell you very honestly" — (oh! oh!) — "that if I had chopped, I should have wanted to draw fifteen pounds be- <'T00 FLATTERING SWEET TO BE SUBSTANTIAL." 253 tween them. I knew you would think that too much; so, not wishing to offend any customer, I declined altogether." The gentleman, smarting under " the trouble the poor man took to sell the horse," wishes he had known what Mr. would have taken, which he thinks w^as very fair in- deed, and resolves, if ever he wants to swap again, to come to Mr. , and leave the deal entirely to him. He may if he likes; but he will then find Mr. has some other little naturel way of managing the thing that won't give him qnite the worst of the swap! I have endeavoured to give some idea how a certain class of dealers ivcfrk, either in buying, selling, or assisting others in doing so; also the ruling principle of all dealers in swap- ping. I fear, however, I have not done any thing like justice to the talents of our friend Rascal. His ubiquity of presence, universality of information, presence of mind, versatility of invention and manner, with many other vir- tues all ready at a moment's warning to suit different oc- casions, are really astonishing, and a good many he does astonish in no small degree. I am quite aware 1 have not exhibited one-thousandth part of his talents. I did not in- tend, nor do I intend to attempt to do so; and, what is more, I could not if I did, though 1 do know something about him too. At all events I know enough to keep out of his hands. But I will now look at him in another cast of character, and acting in one of those precious pieces of rascality that are carried on to a great extent in London. Reader, you have no doubt seen an advertisement something to this ef- fect:— " The Property of a Lady, "To be parted with in consequence of the ill-health of the owner, who is ordered to a warmer climate — " A pair of splendid gray britska geldings, with full manes and tails, six and seven years old, own brothers and nearly thorough-bred, match well with grand action. " A beautiful brown Lady's mare, seven years old, tho- rough-bred; has been regularly ridden by the owner these last two years. "Also a particularly handsome dun cob, with flowing 22 254 KILLING LAlilES. white mane and tail, so docile an invalid or child may drive him; has been constantly driven in a low Albert phaeton: invaluable to a timid person. "The above are all sound; price will not be an object where they \till be treated kindly. — N. B. No horse-dealer need apply. — The coachman will show the horses at the rear of No. —^, Street, Square.'^ Now, as a prelude, let me advise my reader to first al- ways look with a suspicious eye on a horse advertisement. If represented as coming from a lady, eighteen times out of twenty it's a do: if ever it is said that the great object is to sell to a person who will use them kindly, nineteen times out of twenty iVs a do. Hut if it is said no horse- dealer need apply, the do is certain. It only requires a little reflection to convince us such an advertisement is not a genuine one: and to show its absurdity, though it takes in numbers daily. In the first place, a lady, keeping her carriage, saddle-horse, and pony phaeton, must of course also keep a servant's hack: this requires coachman, groom, and helper; the lady probably has two men in the house. Now, is it likely a lady keeping five men-servants would be driven to the necessity of advertising her ill-henlth and horses? If from that cause she wished to part with such horses as those described, among her numerous acquaint- ance and their acquaintance she would find plenty to take them off her hands. A beautiful mare, which has carried a lady two years, or a very handsome cob invaluable to a timid person, are not to be had every day, consequently want no advertising. As to finding her horses a comfort- able berth, really nice horses seldom get uncomfortable ones. But would a lady suppose any one would bind themselves to her horses for life? If they do not, what would be the use of her sacrificing her money when they might be again sold in a month: and as to no dealer need- ing to apply — why not? A dealer \Vould not use her horses ill, for his own sake; and as she is not very likely to ask him into her drawing-room, what would it matter to her whether he saw her coachman or not? As to the ill-health, it is astonishing how many ladies are in ill- health and wanting to sell their horses, according te> the LE SAVANT, ET LA SAVONETTE. 255 papers' account. It is really cruel of these papers to wound our feelings by such statements; I don't say mine, because I don't believe them: and what is more, 1 know that, delicate as the fair creatures are, ladies, like some other things I could name, take a deal of killing: so do their lovers! But should the lady not find a friend to purchase her horses, surely Mr. Tattersall would be a better medium through which they might be disposed of; for no one who knows him could doubt his exertions be- ing used to their utmost extent where ladies are con- cerned. And a lady advertising her horses really has something dealing-like in it! Nqw if house furniture and the whole paraphernalia were to be adyeptised, well and good : we should then, if Mr. Robins was employed, see her horses brought before the public in something like the following modest announcement:— "Last though not least among the many prizes of ines- timable and matchless worth, THE BEAU MONDE may here possess themselves of those Hying specimens OP REFINED TASTE, selected for the use, and for some time the happy EAVOURITES OF THE FAIR; and as her lovely prototype of qld, the then unriyalled MATCHLESS CLEOPATRA, was wont, when sailing on the Cydnus, to shine the lead- ing star of her less BRILLIANT HEMISPHERE: when these envied animals, these happy slaves, were har- nessed to the GAI^ OF BEAUTY, did their fair mistress, by their willing aid, move amid THE GALAXY OF FASHION." I rather think there is a trifle of soap here, but not the beastly yellow kind used (as mentioned) by Tom: no, nor the plain brown Windsor used by my humble self: Mr. Robins has an article for his especial use, in comparison to 256 A PEEP IN PROSPECTU. which he would vote the best Naples as detestably out of taste as musk or lavender water. Long may he get the best of that and every thing else for his own use, for he is a capital fellow, which I believe all who know him will allow, notwithstanding his extra superfine soap! When I have the honour to meet my reader next, I hope he will not object to go w^ith me to the stables where these pretended lady's horses were advertised. We will then see what game is playing there, and just by way of curiosity, and perhaps also of getting a wrinkle, take a look at the locality where these nonpareils of horses, " the property of a lady," are to be seen. Now, as we do not consider ourselves yokels of the first water, but men who know something of the world's ways, we will on entering the stable cast our critical eye round, to see how far Ras- cal and Co. have had the tact or opportunity of putting every thing in keeping with the pretty little piece of hum- bug they propose carrying on ; for it is in the minutiae of these things this sort of gentry, acute as they are. gene- rally fail; in fact, do not carry the thing through. Per- haps they consider that the man who sleeps with one eye open, do what they will, is not to be had; and that those who keep both on the full stretch, and yet see nothing, will not notice these little discrepancies, as some people look at a picture, which, provided the green " is bright enough, and the yellow golden enough," cannot see the want of keeping in the tout ensemble. I conclude a something of this opinion actuates the ma- nager and actor in our equestrian spectacles, when the at- tempt at the personification of a sportsman is made to give efiect to the song, " Hie-ho Chevy, this day a stag must die!'' Now (by way of parenthesis) let me observe in the first place, that with gentlemen who don the pink the idea does not suggest itself that the stag must die: in point of fact, if he is a game one, they determine that he must not die if it can be prevented. If this was not the feeling among sportsmen, I must indeed have been a glorious fool for on one occasion nearly drowning myself and horse in saving one in Virginia Water, and manv no doubt will think me <^THEY IMITATED NATURE SO ABOMINABLY,'' 257 one for so doing. The only plea I can offer such folks in extenuation of what they term folly, is, that, upon my soul, I would not have run the same risk to save them, and what is more, faithfully promise I never will. But to return to our '^ Hie-ho Chevy " friend. How- ever magnificently or classically melo-dramas may be got u[) now, the moment they attempt to represent a fox-hunter or jockey they utterly fail. Did ever eyes behold a man appropriately dressed as a fox-hunter on any stage? Mine never have. From Hamlet to Crach in " The Turnpike Gate," as mortals; from Juno to Ganymede, as heavenly bodies— and heavenly little bodies some are who represent them (I have often wished to prove them earthly)— all are well and appropriately dressed. Then why not dress r. sportsman appropriately? The non-judges would not like him the less, and the judges would be more interested. Conceive John Kemble as Coriolunus bearding the Vol- scians in a Chesterfield and Wellingtons! We will suppose a fox-hunter is to come on : let me see if I can come at all near the thing by description. First, we hear the cracking of a whip in the side-scenes, quite as loud and continued, but not half as well done as that of a postillion's arriving from Marseilles or any other Con- tinental town: then we are treated with sundry yoyks, or y ikes, or yohikes, or some such unheard of, and let us hope never- to-be-heard again, sounds. Gods of hunting! what would old Forester (whose Life has been written by Thistle wHirPER as we never read the life of a foxhound written before, and I fear never may see any thing of the sort written again) — what would old Forester say? Why, he would worry the bagsman But hold hard! here he comes, while his Westminster-bridge cheer is re^ peated with ecstasy by some scores of " most sweet voices" in the gallery — [Mem., glorious English liberty this.) " Tallyho! there he is!" and a pretty devil it is as a re- presentation of one of the first flight at Ashhy Pasture, Why, the very grass would look blue if it saw him there; Kirby Gate would open of itself; and Whissendine run dry to let the apparition have free escape. Now " Hie-ho Chevy," being a Stangate Street fox-hunter, thinks he is acting up to the spirit of his part by putting on the look 22* 258 A TILE AND A TIE. and carriage of a half and half hostler and one of the swell mob. Then for his toggery: his coat may probably be well made — that is, if he did not order it, but had sense enough to buy it second-hand in Holywell Street; if on the con- trary, depend on it it will be a rum one. Why then, as poor Brunimell said, "my dear fellow, do you call this thing a coat?" though, after this observation being made, he might not derive the same advantage I did from a waistcoat of mine not pleasing this once leader of ton. I was going to dine with him: he scanned my dress all over: I conclude he thought it bearable till he saw my waistcoat. " My dear fellow," says he, "you must excuse me, and let me take a liberty with you. I cannot dine and look at that waistcoat: it is a mere body-case. I should fancy old times were returned, and my dinner was dressed by some wretch who cooked when people eat roast beef. I must positively hide it." He took me to his dressing-room, and made me admissible by giving me one of his own, making mine play the part of under-vest. Poor Brummell! sic transit gloria miincli! I was quite a young one at the time, but had I been forty he vv^ould have done the same thing. Now " Hie-ho's " hat — I did not begin with, the head in this case, no matter why — if he wishes to be " war- mint," he sports a shallow, a regular Jonathan, which he conceives looks like "going a-head;" or, if he thinks his friend Mr. Lutestring (who alv^ays ires a orse to see the Easter Monday's turn-out) knows how to do the thing, he gets the loan of his identical hunting hat; and a very smart hat indeed it is, with a full yard of inch-wide satin riband as a check-string. His tie — -he thinks he must not show a white, because Dominie Saiiipson does in " Guy Mannering," (so does Jem Robinson, but he does not know this;) nor must he sport a black, because William does in " Black-eyed Susan:" he might see such a thing at Barkby Holt and other places; this he does not know either: not by-the-by that I think black looks well with a hunting coat, but many first goers do: a blue or green with a white dot he could not bear, because the bird's-eye is vsported by fjght- "oh no! we never mention ." 259 ing men; so this must be low: he therefore takes one, relying on the taste of his ladye love, and which quite accords with his own: he exhibits his bit of silk, a peach- blossom ground-light green crossed-barred, with scarlet and blue transverse stripes. This is a tie! I should tumble off if I got on a horse with it on. Now for his waistcoat: the bare mention of a plain buff kerse3aiiere would sicken him; a narrow stripe would annihilate him at once: no, no: his is a waistcoat — Wel- lington-blue satin, checked with amber and crimson stripe. This looks warm and comfortable, consequently fit for a hunting waistcoat! "Very like a whale!" Now his unmentionables. Why tilings should be un- mentionable that modesty causes us to wear, I know not: they say ladies introduced the term — qusere^ what do they consider the mentionables? I must learn this. However, he wears the unmentionables — so may ever those be who manufactured them — unless positive orders were given for tourniquets for the nether parts. But the artist, knowing good -s?^]^ corduroy is not famous for its yielding proper- ties, has very wisely left them quite easy at the knees, thus giving his customer's very much the resemblance of those of an ostrich, who is, I conceive, not celebrated for symmetry in his legs and knees: but to remedy this, a full allowance of riband is permitted to tighten the knee- band, leaving still sufficient to hang to the bottom of the boot-top. Now as to tops. " Hie-ho Chevy " certainly would have sported the moveable sort, but as he never means to soil them, it is no matter. Where or how he got the boots altogether Heaven knows! there are not half-a-dozen men in London who can turn out a top-boot. He certainly did not get them of any of these; and as I trust there is but one who could make such a pair as his, I admire his indefatigability in ferreting him out. It is true the tops are as white as putty-powder and pipe-clay can make them; and as the lower parts were blacked and polished off the leg, and had the finishing touch on, the polish is really good: he has heard a sportsman's dress should be easy (in this I quite agree with him;) so he carries it to his hoots, which are made with a nice easy calf to them; b'lt, to pre- 260 "thereby hangs a tail." vent their getting down, they are held up by a strap taking all four of the knee buttons; so they hang like a travelling carpet-bag hung up by one handle. Then the Brummagems: it certainly has been the style for years to wear them drooping on the heel (why, I know not, if they are intended for use;) but friend "Chevy" does more: he has his under-straps made particularly short; so, from letting the spurs droop "« la mode^'' they look like a pair of Yeomanry formidables, with an extra length of shank to them. 1 think we have now dressed him. Then the ease with which he wears his harness, and harness it is to him; for a man unaccustomed to wear top-boots and breeches moves as much at home in them as I should in the dress of a Deal boatman; but such as he is, there he is. Prelude of horns — during which "Chevy" takes the accustomed walk backwards and forwards; all singers do; so do the leopards and panthers in Wombwell's cages. The eleven-months-in-the-year inhabitants of London are satisfied they have seen the beav-ideal of a fox-hunter, and \\\Q facsimile of the Marquis of Waterford, or some such an out-and-outer. Ye Gods! the Marquis dressed tq mount Yellow Dwarf like such a thing! ^^ Name it not in Oath," still less in Melton. "Chev)^" now sings his song, and if he would leave out the " halloos,'' and keep his enormous whip quiet, he would doubtless acquit himself well in this part of the business. Having done so, the manager treats him to a ride, and his hunter is led on. He does not come on as Captain Ross's Clinker would have done, sneaking along as if he was ashamed of himself: no, you hear '^ Chevy's " hunter coming; and when he does come, there's fire for you! If the Noble Marquis I have mentioned should happen to be present, he would see no common brown hqrse with a scanty tail like Old Harlequin; no; here is a beautiful piebald, with a tail large enough (when short ones were the go in the Market Harborough country) to have tailed a whole field. Of the tailing there would be little doubt if "Chevy'' was there. Hut I can go no farther; the hunter produced is a choker for me, a ^-egular stopper; so we will return to the horses advertised. ' "OCH, MUKrilY DELA>iY's A BROTH OF A BOY/' "To be sold, the property of a gentleman, the following: superior hunters, that have been regularly hunted with the Kilkenny and Garrison hounds. — (a fresh one, as a head- ing.) " 1. A bay gelding, by Napoleon, dam by Ivanboe; equal to great weight. " 2.. A gray gelding (Mem, the gray gelding now a hun- ter,) by Freney, dam by Master Robert; remarkably hand- some, and a splendid fencer. " S. A brown mare (our old friend,) by Blacklock, dam by Welcome. — This mare, from her magnificent fencing and racing speed, would make a ti|>top steeple-chaser. "4. One of the best 16-stone covert hacks in this king- dom. — [Mem. Cobby.) " The above are all sound, and the owner can be treated with. To be seen at his stables. Red Lion Yard, (some) Street, Bloomsbury:" — or, perhaps, Golden Square, for such places are some of the haunts of these advertising gen- tlemen. Tally ho ! Go hark together t hark together! hark f that's it! the hunted fox for a thousand! "Oh, the top of the morning to you, major," for it's him sure enough, but now plain Mr. O'Reilly * with just a teste of the brogue and lots of the blarney. Faith, Major, you do it iligant ! But now, having found him — cui bono? You could get nothing from him but his skin, and that you are not allowed to take; He will prove these horses are not his, so all you could do would be to send or get him sent to prison — mind, you paying for the gratification of so doing, if you can do it. The gratification, however, at best would be but small, and his chagrin would be also small : he would be quite at home there, and get indulgences that some poor fellow, sent there for purloining a loaf for a famishing fa- mily,, would not have money or interest with the worthy functionaries in charge of him to obtain. Biit let any sensible man look at this advertisement, and reflect a moment, he may save himself the trouble of go- ing: the incongruity of the thing must strike him. Is it likely a gentleman who had been hunting with the Kil- kenny and Garrison hounds vvoultl bring horses from vvhere they were known to London, whei-e they are not? THE BUSYBODY, 267 The members of those hunts, and the gentlemen who hunt with them, must have changed their nature very much from what they ever have been, if they let really good hunters escape them. ']'hen,of all peaces, Bloomsbury! If I wanted an attorney — I might look there for him: or, if I wishe<:l to find a piano or dancing-master, (a cheap one,) hot roll«,Gr (now) hot potatoes, I miiiht go to the purlieus about Gold- en Square for them ; but for a hunter, I should as soon look for a zebra at Almack's. Yet people do go! Well, it's all the same to me whether they go or not : but they will not find it all the same to them. We have seen quite enough of these sort of gentry; but really the ramifications from their genealogical stem are so varied and extensive, that I really believe all the honest men in England could stand under the shade of one of these noble denizens of their forest^ and here comes a collateral branch. This is one of those meddling sort of gentlemen to be found in London, and particularly in every provincial town in England where the horse trade is carried on extensively enough to make it worth their residence. We will call this gentleman Mr. Meddler, and a mighty meddling trou- blesome fellow he is, a perfect pest to dealers and reposi- tories, about whose stables he is always to be found more or less. Now, w^hether Mr. Meddler designates himself an agent, or what, 1 do not know, so I will call him a peri- patetic salesman. His business (or at least what he makes his business) is, to know the appearance, qualifications, and price of every horse standing in a dealer's stable, or in those of any public establishment for sale; and this by hook or by crook he will know, how much soever the master of either stable may wish to prevent him. But he knows a great deal more than this; for he makes himself acquainted with every horse for sale in the neighbourhood, and also with every person wanting to purchase one for any given purpose; so that he can very often, nay generally (if he chooses to do so,) find a horse a master, and a master a horse, to suit each other. Now^ tiiis looks like a very use- ful fellow; jnais le vrai ii^cst pas toujours Ic vraisem- blable; nor is this very useful fellow on the whole so great an acquisition to a town as some people think him, If his g68 EATING UNNECESSARY (fOR THE POOR.) business consisted in saving people the trouble of looking for horses by informing them where such a horse or horses as they want are to be found, he would be a useful man, ^nd no one would grudge him his guinea for his trouble (if they chose to employ him;) but he does not wait for this; he will have a feeling in every horse for sale in the town find neighbourhood, or he will use every exertion in his power to prevent its being bought, however good he may be. Having a hand in the sale of a horse is his bread, con- sequently it is his interest to prevent any one being sold jn which he has not a feeling. I forget now upon what occasion it was, but when Cardi- nal Richelieu was once personally examining some unfor- tunate fellow touching some treasonable practices he had been guilty of, he asked him what had induced him to venture on such things? Now the Cardinal was not the most urbane or just the sort of rrjan one would by choice select to be examined by on such an occasion, nor was the milk of human kindness so redundant in his composition that there was any chance of its overflowing; and thus, forming (a second) milky way. The poor culprit knew this: so without any circumlocution, plainly and simply Replied, as his only ej^cuse, ''Monsieur, ilfaut manp;er!^^ This to some men would have been at least an extenuation, and the force of the homely argument would have been allowed. Not so the Cardinal: "«/e ?^'e/^ vols pas la ne- cessile,^^ says he. Cool, one would say, and by no means flattering: but the Cardinal, like horse-dealers, had little ways of his own, not the most agreeable to those who ofiended him; and I doubt not could look grim enough in his fooFs cap. Not beidg particular, I must say I should prefer an evening's assignation with a WhXq chaperon fouge we have seen of later date. Now Mr. Meddler considers it is quite necessary to eat, though the Cardinal did not; and eat he will, and well too, whoever pays for it. It may be wondered how such a man gets the sway he does in these things; but it is easily ac- counted for. In London his powers are very limited, there being such a host of horses and customers that he can know but a small proportion of either, and strangers are constantly coming in; but in provincial towns he knows every body. TAKING CAKE OF NUMBER ONE. 269 and every body knows him, as well as they do the market- place; should any stranger arrive, Meddler's modesty will not prevent him making his acquaintance and volunteering his services; nor does he sufi'er a fresh horse or two to enter the town without ascertaining all about them. Thus it is seen that nothing of this sort can stir without his know- ledge. Every one who knows him knows this, and there- fore applies to him for information and assistance, both of which he can afford, and will if he is paid for it. This is all fair enough we will say — "the labourer is worthy of his hire,'' is an old saying, and quite a true one if we ap- portion the hire to the services he renders us; but I will show where Mr. Meddler frequently is not worthy of his hire. We will suppose any one had applied to him to find him n horse of a certain sort for a certain purpose. Meddler knows one or two, as the case may be, exactly suited to the purpose. Now the horse being so is certainly a con- sideration with Meddler, but a very secondary one. The first is, to whom does the horse belong, and will he pay him for selling him for him as much as he pleases to think he ought to get? If "yes," the purchaser is immediately taken to both horse and owner: if "no," he will not be taken ; but, on the contrary, if another, who Meddler knows will pay, has a horse not half so well adapted to the pur- chas^'r's views, to him he will be taken; for, mind, being well paid by one party will not suit Meddler: no, he must be paid by both, and paid well. His business therefore is to take his employer where he can do the best for himself, not where he can do best for the employer; and thus he is not always the safest gentleman in the world to trust to. I have rarely employed one of these meddlers, preferring, as Listen said, to "mix for myself." Many people know to what this refers, but as many do not, I will mention it. Before Liston got so high in point of engagements as he afterwards most deservedly did, he had his daily penny- worth of milk taken. This got at last so very rich of the water that Liston could stand it no longer; so next morn- ing he made his appearance at the door with two small jugs in his hand; the milkman, supposing he wanted an extra allowance for some purpose, filled the one with t!ie usual 23* 270 TOO MUCH OF THE PURE ELEMENT. quantity, and was preparing to fill the second, "No," says Liston, "I have brought that for the water; now take back this mixture, and give me half in quantity of milk; I will mix in future for myself." Now, like Liston, whenever I have applied to a meddler, although 1 paid him for his time, I still choose to "mix for myself." I perfectly well knew it would depend on circumstances as to what horses he might choose to inform n.e of, and well know he would not tell me of every hort^e he thought I should like: still he would tell me of some, and thus save me trouble, and as I never should be guided by what he said, he could do no harm. I made use of him, as they say the lion does of the jackal ; but after he had found the quarry, I always begged him to stand aloof, and leave me to decide how far it might suit my appetite. He maj' (properly appreciated) be made a useful scout, but he is not to be trusted as a counsellor. Thus much for private individuals employing meddlers; let us see how far they atfect dealers. As I have in other places said, the ill word of any igno- ramus or malevolent fellow used against a dealer or his horse is sure to be given implicit credit to, and many a good horse is lost by people attending to such fellows. If Sir. Meddler would content himself with taking any person to a dealer's yard when he knew he had a horse in his stables to suit the customer, the dealer would of course be very happy to see him, and would pay him handsomely for his trouble: but there is something in forced interference repugnant to one's feelings, even when no harm is meant. I think a pheasant kept to a day, and done to a turn, a capi- tal thing: biit I know I should kick confoundedly if a man attempted to ram a leg down my throaty drum-stick and all; so, though the dealer would willingly pay any meddler for what he sold for him, he does not wish to give him the command over all the horses in his stable, and a feeling in every one sold from them: but this is w^hat Meddler wants, and therefore will, and does, in some way abuse every horse attempted to be sold without his interference: in fact, he wants to trade on the dealer's capital, and have a certain share in the profits of each horse, though on an average he is only the means of selling one in ten. The consequence would virtually be, that the dealer must w^ait till Mr. Med- GUTTING IN AND CUTTING OUT, I^Vl tiler sold his horses for him, or give him a feeling in any one he takes the unwarrantable liberty of selling himself. Bravo, Mr. Meddler! a very modest way of constituting a little partnership, for it amounts to that. This I rather think is a little more than the dcakr can afford: it is an attempt to make him swallow the pheasant's leg with a vengeance! But if he refuses so large a morsel, he may fully calculate on Meddler's using his most strenuous efforts to (as he would term it) choke off every customer that enters the yard. One plan would be this. I have said he is always hanging about to see what is going forward: he is not always seen in the yard; but is enough there to know every horse in it, and somewhere about his price. Well! he sees a gentleman looking at one there. Knowing the horse, he knows at once the description of animal wanted: he does not of course openly interfere in this case, or even suffer himself to be seen if he can prevent it: he has had a glimpse of the horse from the street, and that is enough for him. The gentleman leaves the yard: if he has so closed the bargain as to be unable to be off it, or, as Meddler says, to be choked off, Mr. Meddler has lost his chance: but werj probably the customer may not have quite done this: my life on it Meddler trots after him. "Beg your pardon, sir, 1 saw you looking at a horse in 's yard. I know the horse very well; he was bought (so and so:) I don't wisii to interfere, I'm sure, bii^t I know a horse would suit you exactly: he belongs to a private Gentleman" (or Tradesman, as the case may be.) He takes the customer to see the horse or others, if he can persuade him to do so: in fact, having got hold of him, he never leaves him if he can help it; and thus takes a customer from the dealer, and, farther, secures one for himself. Thus are these sneaks the bane of dealers. It is true they may order Mr. Med- dler not to enter their yard; but then, in certain situations, by making such a man an enemy, his tongue can (and it will not be his fault if it does not) do an incredible deal of mischief; so the dealer is forced to bear the nuisance, and manage as well as he can, by from time to time throwing a sop to these Cerberi. At fairs you will be sure to find Meddler: he is either taken there by, or goes to meet, some dealer from a dis- 2t2 IF YOU PLAY WITH A CAT, BEWARE OP IlER CLAWS. tance: the dealer is aware Meddler knows the horses of value, or at least a great part of them, likel}^ to be there. Here he is useful, for he saves the dealer trouble and time, and can probably give him the history of many he looks at. Here he does not make it a sine qua non to be paid by boih parties, though in most cases he contrives to be so; for the dealer buying a number makes the day's work a good one to Meddler, supposing he only got what he gives him, and he would be afraid to pla}^ tricks with this employer; for though this dealer, not having suffered at home by Mr. Meddler's interference, is very good friends with him, and treats him to his dinner and bottle of wine, he knows how to appreciate him, and mostly uses him as a useful tool that he knows dare not turn its edge on him. At Repositories and public auctions Meddler is again met. To a Repository lie is a positive curse, for the owner of it must either pay him, or he will indiscriminately abuse everi/ horse thci-e, for these of all places Meddler detests the most. The dealer is culpable enough in his eyes for presuming to sell a certain number of horses with- out him : what then must be his absolute loathing of a place where such numbers are sold without him? He hates its very walls; he knows he cannot be always paid here, for it would look rather odd to any person, on being paid for a horse sold there, to find, in addition to the regular com- mission, an item, "Paid Mr. Meddler 2/. commission." The customer might be uncourteous enough to say, "Who is Mr. Meddler?" The owner of the Repository might feelingly enough say, " Why, he is the devil:" but I do not think this w^ould satisfy the customer. We shall, I am sorry to say, have occasion to mention Mr. Meddler again, as I now propose to do mj'self the honour of intro- ducing my reader to Repositories. I have been obliged, in accordance Vv^Ith what I proposed in commencing these Hints on Horse Dealers in general, to dwell for some time on the acts and habits of the low- est of the low, and to carry the thing out, to quote their sentiments, language, and expressions. I fear the task is not yet quite complete: it will, therefore (if gnly for a time,) be a relief to get into a respectable place, NOT SO BLACK AS HIS NEIGHBOUR. 273 and to meet a respectable man. I shall therefore begin by- taking my reader to Osborn's — " Harry Osborn's." We may be now supposed to have arrived at a spot where we have Gray's Inn, Verulam Buildings, with sun- dry other buildings and courts (all inhabited by gentle- men of the law,) to our right — (quite right to leave them there) and the Repository on our left. Some person may say that I have brought my reader into a very pretty dilem- ma; for, turn which side he may, he has a very fair chance of being done. What might be the result of turn- ing to the right I cannot say ; but by taking the other turn, I will answer for his coming out unscathed. Besides, there is another thing to be considered : if he should not like this place, he need not go there again — a seqxdtur not always to be relied on by those who pay a visit to the other. ^^ In medio tutissimus ihis^^ they say: now, if we did this, we should run plump into a brewery; and really I am not certain, that, if v/e were tempted to take a solution of cocciihisindicus, it would be altogether so safe an alternative. " Quanll vivono in questo monclo alle spicie di questo e di quello /" This may be applied to all three places; so we will at once turn into Osborn's. Reader, do you see that elderly person in a plain frock- coat, with a pair of shoes, or boots, whose soles would create wonder even with a Folkstone fisherman? That is Mr. Henry Osborn — in the vocabulary of his old cus- tomers, and many very old customers he has, "Harry Os- born" — by whom, if your appearance and address proclaim you a gentleman, I will answer for it you will be received with the deference due to your rank in life; or if they de- note your being merely a respectable man, you will be treated with the attention and civility due to a customer. ^{Mein. no light blue satin cravats worn; no champagne talked about, tliough a bottle might be routed out on occa- sion.) — Osborn does not call himself a gentleman; but, I tell you what, he vv'ill very soon judge whether his custo- mer is one or not. I think I am justified in calling this the first commission stable in England, for two reasons — I believe Osborn was the first who devoted himself exclusively to this branch of the horse trade, and that he has in this way sold more ■214: HONEST MEASURES, horses than any other man in existence. I am not going to write a panegyric on Mr. Osborn: but so far as I know of him — and 1 knew him, and he sold horses for me, and to me, when I was a mere boy — I can only say, were I in London, and w^anted a horse, to him /should go; and I be- lieve, greatly to his credit be it said, the greater part of his old customers who have left him have left the world also. Having shown my reader a Repository where I consi- der the business is carried on as fairly as the nature of that business will allow — for, in road phrase, a little ^^ shouldcr- mg" will creep into the best regulated Repositories — I will endeavour to show what might be done in one where a man intends to do. All persons who are not amateurs of horses are much more suspicious of those whose business lies in that way than those who are; but, unluckily, their suspicions are «eldom directed to the righ.t point: so, not knowing what to guard against, these suspicions do them no good. The chief apprehensions I have heard people express in send- ing a horse to a commission stable for sale are, first, that he will be cheated of his proper feeding; and, secondly, that the owner of the stables will keep the horse unsold for the advantage he derives from the livery expenses. Nothing can be more futile or groundless (in a general way) than both these apprehensions ; not from any honesty on the part of the owner or his subordinates, where either or both are inclined to be tricky, but from other causes. With respect to the feeding: this is done by the foreman, who, in large establishments, generally goes at the regular feeding hours with a corn-barrow to the different stables: here he gives to the man or men, according to the number of horses, a feed for each. Thus the foreman cannot cheat the horses without the knowledge of the strappers; and he values his berth too much to put himself in their power; for if he did, he would soon become under them instead of their being under him. As he dare not keep back corn for his own advantage, you may depend upon it he would not do so for that of his master, unless directed by him to that effect: and this he would not be, for then he would have it in his power to expose his employer. So, even supposing the whole lot- — master, foreman, and strappers — PENNY WISE AND POUND FOOLISH. 275 io be rogues, llie fear of each other in this particular keeps them honest. Now the strappers — the generality of whom 1 give full credit for being quite disposed to pillage both master and customer if they can do so with impunity — if they could carry the corn home in lieu of giving it to the horses, there is little doubt but they would do so: but the horses are seen feeding by other eyes, as well as those of the man directly in charge of them; so he must give theni their feed: and supposing he did crib a portion from each^ oats are a bulky article in proportion to their value, and could not be conveyed away in any quantity. A few to feed a rabbit or hen or two is the most that could be got off: and supposing this done, the quantity taken from six or seven horses could never affect them. The customer has another guarantee against his horse not getting his feed- ing. These helpers alwavs look to getting some little re- ward if a horse is sold or taken away, provided he looks as if he had had justice done him ; and this they are quite sure they will not get if he looks the reverse: so, depend on it, they would be more likely to rob their master of his corn than your horse. There is one way in which he may come off second best; but if he does, it is your fault; so I give you a hint that may be useful. If you are known as one w^ho gives a shilling, or not any thing, where half-a-crown would be advantao;;eously given to a helper, so sure as your horse is a horse half his oats will be cribbed from him and given to that of some one who pays properly. Pay properly, and you need be under no fear of any want of attention to your horse. Under all circumstances, pay servants, not lavishly, but liberall}' : it is not only justice, but econom}^ in the long run. 1 have never been in the habit of keeping horses at livery unless for a day or two, or if sent for sale; but whe- ther in these cases or at inns (where I was known) I alvvays found my horses made as comfortable as in their own stables, whatever other people's mi2:;ht be. Even a shilling exlra will do this, and it is a very cheap mode of preventing coughs, colds, and cracked heels. Now for the other apprehension, of a iiorse being kept unsold for the sake of his livery. This is a thing rarely done; but when he is so kept, it is for a much more ras- V*- 276 THE DANGER OF GIVING AN OPINION. cally purpose than the paltry consideration supposed. No, no; if you are intended to be robbed, depend on it it will be done to a much larger tune than a few oats, or the five or six shillings per week profit on the livery. We will suppose a person has been unfortunate enough to send a horse to a Repository for private sale where the master (who we will call Mr. Nickem) is as great a rogue as you could desire: of course, the result would depend a great deal on who sent him there, and how far he knew and was known to understand how to guard against any tricks that might be wished to be played him. We will, however, suppose in this case the horse to be sent by some one knowing about as much of Nickem's i)ractices as the generality of persons do of those of many of tJie Repositories for the private sale of horses. In large pro- vincial towns there is also often a weekly sale by auction: now this is really a very great convenience, as it affords the seller the choice of being done privately or publicly, and effectually by either mode. But before I proceed farther with Mr. Nickem and his Repository, I must make a little digression, in order to answer two more observations I have heard made as com- plaints against the owners of Repositories; for let every man have justice at all events. The one is, that 'you cai? never get them to tell you what they think your horse is worth or likely to bring: the other, that they will not tell to whom the horses or any particular horse belongs that may be standing with them for sale. This, 1 grant, looks like a want of candid, fair, and straightforward conduct; in fact, looks like a little hocus-pocus, that causes suspicion with the inquirer. It is quite true that the observation is a correct one; and equally so, that, till it is explained, it has a very suspicious look. Doubtless this concealment is frequently made for nefarious purposes, but not always: in fact, except in particular cases it is- necessary, and that ne- cessity arises more from the fault of the customer than the salesman. We will suppose a gentleman takes a horse to show any owner of a Repository: we will suppose the owner values him (as a middling price) at sixty: he asks Mr. — what be thinks the horse is vvorth: we will just see the predica- CANDOUR SOMETIMES INJUDICIOUS. 277 ment Mr. — would put himself in if he gave his opinion. If he stated that he considered the horse worth more than the owner did, the latter would be afterwards disappointed, and consider himself ill-used if on farther inspection it was found the hoi*se would not bring that sum; indeed, he would most probably consider some chicanery had been used towards him: and if, on the contrary, the salesman valued him at less than the owner (and which in most cases he might very fairly do,) he would be set down either as a bad judge or a rogue; and very probably the owner would at once ride away, hoping to find a more promising market. Now, though a good judge will go very near the mark as to the value of a young sound fresh horse in a fair, it is not generally this description of horse that is sent to a Repository: on the contrary, they are mostly horses that have been »sed, and their value depends chiefly on their merits: consequently a horse of this sort may, when he co-mes to be ridden or driven, be worth ten or twenty pounds- more or less than he looks when merely a cursory glance is taken of him. If a horse looking worth we will say forty pounds is found an mounting him to go away (in stable phrase) with his knee up, can trat at the rate of fifteen or sixteen miles an hour, and goes over the stones as safe and firm as on the high road, such a hack is worth a hundred to many people, and would bring it: whereas, if, on the contrary, he went shoving his feet along as if he was trying whether the stones were slippery or not, twenty pounds and a cart is his value and place: in fact, there are many who, like me, would not accept him as a gift. This is not to be ascertained by a horse being merely rode up to a stable door; though a keen eye will form an opinion even by this, and probably will be to a great extent cor- rect. But we are not to suppose that any man will take the trouble to try your horse merely for the pleasure of giving you his opinion of him, and which would very likely be that he is a brute. It might be very candid to tell you so, but it would not be business, and, tell it as civilly as such a thing could be told, the only consequence and thanks that would arise would be, the horse would not be left for sale; and a man cannot afford to pay two or three hundred a-year for premises merely to show yow 24 278 SOME FOLKS MAY BE TOO WELL KNOWN, how candid he is. In nineteen cases out of twenty, there- fore, a man is quite justified in declining to value a horse brought to him for sale. The owner ought to know his value: if he does not, when he comes to be shown to the public, that will very shortly enlighten him in this parti- cular; for though this man or that may not be a judge of such matters, the public is, and a very good one. Novv we will see wh}^ it would be injudicious to state to whom horses for sale belong. Owners very frequently do not wish this to be done, for various reasons; but if they did, and the salesman was to tell this, the consequence would be, what I dare say the generality of persons never dreamt of — he would be lucky if he got his commission on hdlf the horses he sold. It may be said that gentlemen will not be guilty of ungentlemanlike acts. To this doc- trine on a broad scale I fully subscribe; but I must also say there are a great many who will. Resides this, all the horses sent to a Repository are not sent by gentlemen, nor are they all gentlemen who treat for them : consequently, unless a salesman knows his customer very well, injustice to himself he must take care that he does not give the op- portunity for such things taking place with him. I will answer for it that Osborn would tell me (and doubtless many others of his customers if we chose to ask him) to whom any horse belonged, unless desired not to do so: nay farther, if I wished to purchase a horse in his stables, and more was asked for him than I thought he was worth, he would tell me, (for he has done it) — ^ I am not authorized to take less than 1 ask you; but he belongs to Mr. So-and- so: if you like to go to him, you may, and if he chooses to take less, I can have no objection." But before he would do this, he would know his customer, and feel quite cer- tain no mean advantage would be taken. Depend on it he would not do this by a stranger; and, what is more, would take still greater precaution in doing it to many he does know. It seems very natural a man should wish to learn all he can of a horse he wishes to buy; and this induces many persons who do not intend any unfairness to ask to whom he belongs — not by-the-by that I consider the owner as a certain source of correct information on the subject; in A DIRTY TRICK. 279 many cases quite the reverse: still, to get to the owner seems to many persons the great desideratum, forgetting, that if the salesman's interest in selling a horse is three pounds, probably in point of convenience or money the owner's is three times as much: consequently, he has three times as much interest in deceiving the buyer; and if a purchaser expects an owner to tell him the faults or any faults of his horse, he expects a great deal more than I should. This, however, does not explain how a salesman is likely to suffer by being, as the purchaser would wish, candid; but the following case does. A. finds out by some means that a horse standing at a Repository belongs to B. A. has been asked, say fifty pounds; away he posts to B. tells him he has been looking at his horse, and is disposed to buy him; that he has offered thirty-five, which has been refused. Now if the salesman had sold the horse at forty, B. would have, received thirty -eight, so A. and B. lay their heads together, and conclude the bargain by B. taking thirty-seven. This is only one pound less than he would have got had the horse been sold by the salesman at forty: so the liberal pair concoct this little arrangement between them. B. sends for his horse home; of course says nothing of his being sold: merely pays for keep, and thus, although he was sold through the connexion of the salesman, and from being seen and shown at his establishment, he is thus done out of his commission. I hope, nay I do not doubt, there are many who would think that few such underhand fellows as A. and B. are to be met with: this is, however, very wide of the fact: for the truth is, not only are A. and B. to be met with, but we may go on to L., and find per- sonality to answer to each letter. This, being about the middle of the alphabet, brings it to what I say, that by let- ting buyers and sellers meet, the salesman would lose half his commission: so the man is obliged to give ambiguous and evasive answers to prevent himself suffering from the meanness and avarice of those from whom one might ex- pect at least fairness of conduct: but so in truth it is. Another trick is sometimes played a salesman. Some fellow, half dealer and half gentleman, brings three or four horses to a Repository for sale : he takes care to ask such a S80 SCANNING A NEW FACE. price for his horses, that it is next to impossible for the salesman to sell them at it. If he does happen to do so, well and good: in that case he would get his commission; indeed, he could not be kept out of it: but at any thing like a fair price he will not; for it is managed in this way. The owner, or his man, are one or the other constantly by the side of the horses ; consequently not one can be shown without those worthies knowing all about it. The horse is liked, but the price asked by the salesman precludes his being sold by him. But the owner gets at the gentleman, who of course does not trouble himself about the salesman's commission, and thus buys the horse of the owner, who agrees to bring him to the purchaser's stable ; he gets paid for him ; and here again the salesman is done. If the owner thinks there is a probability of his being found out at this, all he does is to take his other horses somewhere else; so even Nickem is done sometimes. It may be said no one pities him^ nor do I, for he does other people often enough; but it accounts for why a salesman, whether a rogue or a re- spectable man, evades letting people into the knowledge of to whom horses belong; and this is all I intended to do. We will now return to the supposed case of a horse being sent to Nickem to sell. The reader must bear in mind that vye are now sending him to a man who, from the moment any horse comes into his clutches, sets out with the determination to get all that can fairly or unfairly be got out of him for his own benefit; and to do Nickem justice, he is no petty-larceny rogue ; he will not descend to rob your horse, though he will ascend pretty high in the scale of ingenuity to rob you. Now there is no great in- genuity in robbing in a common vulgar way ; but to rob so as to avoid suspicion, and even to induce your victim to return and be robbed again, requires no little tact, and this is Nickem'sybr/e. If (which is the general mode) a horse is sent to a re- pository by a servant, with a note stating his particulars and price, the first thing Nickem does is to cast an eye on him, to judge a little what degree of trouble he is worth ; that is, not whether he is to be treated better or worse, but what quantum of chicanery it seems probable it will be worth while to employ against him, or rather his BOXING THE NEW COMER. 281 master. If a common twenty or twenty-five pound brute that is about worth the money asked and no more, he is merely put up in the stable, takes his chance of sale (and he really gets a chance,) for Nickem would say of him, in reference to his not coming in for his share of roguery, about the same as the man affectionately said to his wife, who fondly remarked the difference of his conduct to that of his neighbour, who thrashed his rib about three times a week, " I do not think you worth it !" We will, however, suppose the horse brought to be a clever nag, and eighty is asked for him: Nickem thinks this a price he can get for him ; he by no means, however, intends to do so; that is, while the horse belongs to the present owner, and here is a case where a horse will be purposely kept unsold, though not for the advantage of his livery profits. No ; if Nickem can get him himself, by nominally selling him to some coadjutor for sixty, he expects to make twenty ; if for fifty, thirty ; and of course, if he is to be had for forty, just that sum would go into Nickem's pocket short what he may be forced to give his friend if he employs one : if not, he pouches the whole. Now this is better than livery, or saving a bushel of oats worth three shillings; and men have been placed in such situations, by a regularly concerted plot, as to be willing to take such a reduction as forty in eighty, ay, and will again, and thank Nickem too for the trouble he has taken. *' The horse has been unlucky certainly," says the owner, " and I lose a great deal of money by him ; but neither you nor I can help that." Certainly the owner cannot; but I rather opine Nickem could have helped it, and by not doing so has /ze/j?;eG? himself pretty handsomely. \\ ith such a horse, on his arrival the first thing to be done is to get him out of sight till Nickem has privately thoroughl}' overhauled him. This is very easily done by putting him in a box : two men are immediately set about him, clothes and bandages brought, lots of warm water, &:c. The groom, on going home, represents all this, and Mr. Nickem's having ordered him into a "capital box after his journey." The master is of course j)leased with this. — '•It was very careful and attentive of Mr. Nickem!" — Very I This is the beginning of slaving "the innocents." 24^ 282 DOING THINGS COMFORTABLY. The horse being put up, groom gets half-a-crown to get his glass of brandy-and-water after his journey; so he is made comfortable, as well as his horse ; and as by this time the nagsman and he have become acquainted, he goes to make himself comfortable also ; and while they are doing this, nagsman, (who does not want to be told his business,) sucks the groom's brains, and learns all he knows about the horse, and any others in his master's stables. — There is then a considerable shaking of hands, groom takes his saddle on his back, goes off by coach, and the horse is left like a boy at school, the difference being, however, that the boy often learns very little, whereas the horse will learn a good deal : the master also (if not in the higher branches of education) will get a lesson so far as pounds, shillings, and pence go. The coast being now clear, the next morning, before any customer comes in, Nickem has the horse out, sees his paces, examines him minutely as to soundness, and gets the nagsman on him ; if a hunting-like horse, or represented as one, sees him over a fence or two, and the bar, and also in his gallop : if he is stated to be a harness-horse, he sees him in that: if he is not so repre-. sented, but he considers as a harness-horse he would sell well, he has him carefully tried. Even his behaviour while the harness is being put on will show to an experienced eye how far he is likely to go quiet: if he seems good^ tempered, he is just put into a break; a hundred yards suffices : Nickem now knows what the master does not, namely, whether he is likely to make a harness-horse. — This in some horses puts on or takes off twenty, perhaps thirty pounds in their value ; and this is all done without any exposure to servants. True enough, they know quite well what game is going on, but their place is too good to lose by talking: and if they did, what could they say farther than that "master had tried the horse in every way !" If even the owner caught the horse under this trial, a lie would be ready cut and dried for him : Ude could not turn out an omelette aux fines herbes half as quickly as Nickem could a dozen plats of well-dried, highly-spiced, and seasoned fibs: "'tis his vocation, Hal!" "He was seeing him. in harness for a match for a gentleman wlio would buy him in a minute if he seemed likely to take to harness :" or, if he PUTTING OUT A FEELER. 283 was being leaped, Nickem " intends to write offimmed lately to a customer now he can safely say the horse leaps well : he always wishes to sell gentlemen's horses as soon as pos- sible, so he likes to see what they can do : he can then take upon himself to recommend them." This the owner can- not deny is very fair, proper, and indeed conscientious in Nickem. Very ! Nickem having learnt pretty nearly all he wants about the horse, he must now learn all he can about the gentle- man, and see how far he is likely to go quietly or be ob- streperous in the harness he intends to put on him. He plies him as to price. Probably Nickem's opinion is asked, and possibly his advice. This advice will of course be given as best suits his own interest. Before, however, he gives in this opinion or advice, he puts in a feeler some- thing in this way : — -" Why, sir, the price to be taken of ^course remains with you, and depends a good deal upon whether you wish the horse sold as soon as possible, or whether you are disposed to hold out for price, as in that case we must wait till the right customer comes; and also whether you are determined not to sell under a certain price ; or whether )^ou have any objection to him, and are determined not to take him back : but in either case, you know, sir, it is my interest to get the most I can, for the more you get, the more I get ; so it is the interest of both to get the most we can." — " Humph .'"-^ — [Mem. I say Jiumph :) — the owner said, " Of course, Mr. Nickem." Now this said feeler, with the acute sensibility of touch that Nickem has, brings out more than enough to show him the present determination of the owner. I S2.y jo resent, because a few days and a fevv tricks very often alter these sort of determinations amazingl3^ Of course various means are employed to bring this about, varying according to circumstances. In this case, we will suppose a medium kind of determination in the seller. Nickem has persuaded him he ought to take less than he asked ; and it is left that the seller is willing to make a considcral^le reduction rather than send the horse back. But this reduction does not amount to perhaps more than one foiulh of what Nickem wants, so a beginning must be made to bring this about. "We will instance one way of beginning. The owner and .2S4 PUTTING IN A COOLER. Nickem see the horse out together. In this case he is not shown so as to make his master more in love with him than he was : in short, he never saw the horse go worse. Nickem looks in so peculiar and attentive a way at the horse's going, that the seller is induced to ask his motive. Before he gives an answer (so delicately tenacious is he of saying an unpleasant thing, and so feelingly alive is he to the interest of his employer,) that he says to his man, " Go down again, Jem : give him his head ; go five miles an hour ; that'll do ; stand." He now looks at one foot, then turns to the owner: " I beg pardon for not answering before, sir ; has this horse ever been a little tender on this foot?" — "No, never, Mr. Nickem ; there cannot be a sounder horse !" " Oh, I'm sure of that, sir, from what you say; but I can't fancy he goes quite level now." This is feeler the second, and gets a hint how the seller will take any thing of this kind : but it does more than this; it just leaves Nickem in a situation to be able hereafter with a good grace to confess his mistake, or to prove the correct- ness of his eye and judgment: in fact, to make the horse a sound or unsound one as he pleases. Not wishing at pre- sent to alarm the owner sufficiently to cause him to fear his horse is not in a state fit for sale, he now says — " I see that the shoe presses a little hard on the hee! ; I have no doubt but that is all. I will get his feet nicely put to rights: they will look all the better for sale, and I have no doubt the horse will be all right immediately. I will see it done myself." — [Mem. no doubt of that!) — "Put a poul- tice on that horse's off foot, and I will get his shoes altered first thing in the morning : go in. — No occasion, sir, to make every body as wise as ourselves : w^e'll set him to rights, never fear!" Some people might think that if a shoe really pinched, the sooner it was off the better, and would have it off immediately. 1 should, and so would Nickem in such a case: but then the owner might be in- clined to see his horse's foot pared out himself. This would not be so convenient; though even then the thing might be managed right, and would be, unless the owner was pretty conversant with the anatomy of feet. Nickem has really done a good deal of business in an hour. He has got ten pounds taken off the price of the PREPARING A SELLER FOR STEWING. 285 horse as a beginning; he has found out that the owner does not wish to get him back if he can at all help it; added to which, he is requested to let him know what offer is made. I'his, if Nickem does not go to sleep, is ten pounds more off. He has raised something like a doubt of his perfect soundness, has got the opportunity of ascertaining this for his own private satisfaction; has the means of keeping him sound or making him an unsound one; and has put the owner a good deal more out of hu- mour with the horse than he was when he left his stable. Now this is doing business: some particular and illiberal people may also call it doing customers. This is in fact the grand dish that calls forth all Nickem's talent: the spiced and seasoned fibs are merely little side-dishes, ad- juncts, and sauces, required to make the whole look well, and are as necessary to form his chef-d' (zuvre as the claret is to stewed carp. A really well-done customer is a glo- rious dish, always to be found at Nickem's table; and, what is better, instead of costing money, puts money in his pocket. French cooks serve up glorious dishes: but I apprehend on rather a more expensive plan. Nickem having thus put matters en train, it will now be advisable to wait a bit, and let the customer cool a little. Nothing cools colts or customers more than '' standing on the bit,'^ provided we do not keep them long enough at it to ruffle their tempers: and finding no offer made, or at least not one near the mark, is also as great a cooler to a seller as the patent powders are to ice-creams, claret, or champagne: the two refrigerators make them all just fit to be used: in fact, to be taken in. After a few days, a letter is sent to the customer, post-mark (we will say) Brighton, f5omething to this effect: — " Mr. Nickem, "Sir — From the very strong recommendation you gave me of the bay horse 1 saw at your Repository on Wednes- day, I am induced to make you an offer for him. If the owner is disposed to take fifty pounds, you may give it for me. This, considering he is not a horse of any known character, I think is his full value. 1 am, sir,'' &c. — Signed (of course) any body. 286 THE SELLER STEWING. This additional feeler, considering it only cost a shilling to a guard to put it in the post-office, is not an expensive one, and is sent, accompanied by a note from Nickem, giving it as his opinion "that it is not quite what he should recommend being taken, as by holding the horse over he is satisfied he should get a better price." This holding over, though it has cooled the customer, now, like the bit, from having been kept some time on, begins to make him restless and fidgety; so, after reading ^ny body^s letter, he first d — s the horse, then his ill-luck, and (almost) the Repository: but most particularly and especially the dealer from whom he bought him. "Nickem did, in fact, tell him he had given too much!" He resolves to send his groom for the horse: then comes the after- thought of the trouble, inconvenience, and expense of this, added to the doubt of his being able to sell him at home. Then, in favour of taking the offer, comes the homely adage of making the best of a bad bargain. This is not always to be done; for he has got hold of Nickem, and Nickem of him. Now, Nickem is a bad bargain; and it does not seem likely he will make the best of him. Again, if the horse is sold from home, no one knows for what he was sold. This is really a consideration, and a great one; for though being conscious of our having done a foolish thing, is bad enough, it is still worse that our neighbours should be conscious of it also. So down he sits, takes his pen, d — s that (though on another occasion he would have merely changed it,) and then tells Mr. Nickem "that though fifty pounds is a miserable price for such a horse, as he has been so unlucky to him, he had better take it at once to put an end to farther trouble." God help the man in his innocency! for there is a little farther trouble in store for him yet. By-the-by, who keeps the key of this store.'* I do not know; certainly no one with any par- liamentary interest, for, indeed, serving out troubles to the world is no sinecure. It may now be reasonably supposed that Nickem, having got the horse to fifty, would be disposed, nay content, to have him; not he; have him he will, but why give fifty even, if forty will do! "Ridiculous!" some people may )Say : " is it to be supposed a man is to be farther gulled, THE SELLER DONE, BUT NOT BROWNED. 287 and that, thinking fifty pounds a miserable price, he will take ten pounds less?'^ Yes, he will, and probably solicit Nickem to take him at that; and we shall soon see one of the ways by which he will be made to do so. •Reader, did you ever hear of '•^7nann fact tiring a corn?^^ Probably not: but I have, and I dare say should have had the thing tried with me, if I had not always perfectl)' well known whether any horse of mine had corns or not, and never left it to any one to determine the fact for me. But as Nickem now finds it judicious to manufacture one, the reader will learn all about it. Nickem has perfectly satis- fied himself long since that the horse was sound, and had he been offered at any time fifteen or twenty pounds more than he was autho: ized to take for him, he would have done so and pocketed the balance: — (how this may be done with- out detection I shall by-and-by explain; sufficient for the present transaction is the evil thereof:) — but not having been offered this, and resolving to have him, forty rs the price determined on: so now we will manufacture the corn. The smith is sent for. Nickem does not compromise himself to him, as you will see. "Take off that shoe: 1 am afraid this horse has a corn." Off comes the shoe, and the searcher is applied. " Take down both heels pretty well, so as not to disfigure the foot too much: there, now try this heel; I am sure it is very deep-seated. Go on: ah ! I was sure of it. There, put on his shoe." The smith per- fectly well knows what all this is about; but he shoes f(jr the place, and knows it is as much his business not to make remarks, as it is to make horse shoes and corns when either are wanted. The ovvner is now written to, to say his horse is sold at fifty, Nickem regretting he could not do better. The owner thanks God he is gone at all events, though the price was bad. Now this philosophy and thankfulness is very proper and grateful; but he is not gone; for the next day the seller receives — " Sir, I regret to say your horse has been returned to my stables, not having answered the warranty of sound- ness given when sold. I send you Mr. the veterinary surgeon's opinion. " I am, sir," &c. **I certify I have this day examined a bay gelding, brought 288 THE SELLER BROWNING. to me by Mr. Nickem's foreman, and find he has a corn on his off-forefoot, and is consequently unsound. "Timothy Turnemback, V. S." I fear the gentleman's feelings of thankfulness will be somewhat diminished by this, whatever his philosophy may be. He determines personally to see into the thing — that is, as far as he can, which will not be very far after all. We will leave the gentleman preparing for his journey, and consider a little the ins and outs of these corn cases, for they are of very frequent occurrence. Now a corn is really the neatest, the least cruel, the most certain, and least to be disputed mode of making an unsound horse I know of. Veterinarians may give you a long account of the na- ture, cause, and effects of corns: but in examining a horse, there is no need for this: there it is, and that is enough. 1'here is a red mark; a corn is a red mark: and whether that has been produced by pressure, bruise, or by having cut so near the sensible part a( the foot as to show the same thing, it returns the horse, and that is all Kickem wanted. It may be asked whether a Vet may not be able- to tell a manufactured corn from one produced by ordinary causes? This is not my business to answer or interfere' with. I have only shown what I meant — that corns are' made, and horses are returned in consequence of them. We will say the gentleman has arrived, and expressed his astonishment and chagrin very vehemently, and very naturally: Nickem has also expressed his chagrin very ar- tificially: he has not expressed his astonishment, because" this is the time to remind the gentleman of a little obser- vation made by Nickem at the commencement of the busi-- ness, and kept in reserve for use when wanted. Nickem now thinks it 75 wanted; so says, " I am not so much sur- prised as you are, sir, at the horse having this corn; for if you remember, I told you when I saw him out, I thought he did not run level When I had him shod, I did not like* to cut his foot too much down to examine it; but when the^ veterinary surgeon did, he saw it directly. I am sorry to-' find I was right after all. I wish we had had him examined at first: it would have saved trouble and time." THE SELLER FROTHED UP AND DONE BROWN. 2S9 "Well," exclaims the owner in despair, "what is to be done now? I suppose we must sell him without warrant- ing him." — "I will do that, if you please," says Nickem; "but it will be a great loss and pity: had you not better take him home?" — "Home!" cries the thoroughly tired- out-customer: "no ; I'll sell him at something; will you buy him, Mr. Nickem ?" — Nickem declares " he never buys a horse brought to him for sale; he always avoids t/iat^ if possible." — "Well," cries the owner, "can you send for an}^ one who ivi/J buy him at once?" — "Why," says Nickem, 'Hhere is a man likely enough to buy him, but I must tell you he is a confounded rogue. Would you like to speak to him?" The owner would just now speak to the Old One, if he thought he would buy his horse. Nickem opens the ball with, "Mr. Meddler, I have sold a very fine horse for this gentleman, for fifty: he has been returned for a slight corn; will you buy him?" Meddler shakes his head: " No, thank you, Mr. Nickem, I lost enough by the last horse you persuaded me to buy of a gen- tleman." — "Well," says Nickem, "but vve must take off a five-pound note." — " Yes,'' says Meddler, " you must take off a good many if I buys him." — "Nonsense!" ex- claims the owner, now joining in: " come, what will you give for him?" — " I'd rather not make an offer," says Med- dler. By dint of persuasion, however. Meddler at last says, "Well, I'll give five-and-twenty, and no more." He then walks off. — "I told you, sir," says Nickem, "he was a rogue ; but I got a gentleman out of his horse last week by selling him to the fellow: so I hoped I could you ; but 1 believe he did lose ten pounds ; so he is worse than ever now." " Come now," says the gentleman, "you can get out of the horse better of course than 1 can: do buy him your- self. What can you afford to give me?" After many objections, a good deal of sympathizing with the owner, &c., Nickem says, " Well, sir, if you really so earnestly wish it, I am not like Mr. Meddler; I don't think so much of the corn as he did : indeed I should think very little of it if I had not seen the horse go a little tender when I first saw him out with you. I will take him off your hands at forty pounds; and if you can bring any friend who will S5 290 MERCY IS TWICE DLE8SEI?; give me the forty back, he shall be very welcome to him!" I think my reader will allow I have been as good a pro- phet in this as Vates. I have seen so many tricks of this sort, which have always ended very like this, that depend on it my supposed case is very near the mark. Having described some of the transactions carried on in some repositories, and brought forward Mr. ISickem in the principal character of the piece, which may be either* farce or light comedy to the actors and audience, but par- takes a good deal of the tragic so far as the author of the representation is concerned; and who, in contradistinction from authors in general, does not feel himself under any great obligation to the performers for playing their parts so well; in fact, though he was tokl all was done that could be done for his benefit, it was himself who was done, and his benefit was, as I fear such things often are, no benefit to any one but the lessee of the premises. Let us, how- ever, in charity, hope, that whatever Mr. Niekem's deserts may be, he will be off the stage when we expect the drop scene! Our own cup of iniquity is full enough: let us, therefore, if the business of the stage tkmands him, merci- fully direct the call-boy, vvherever the culprit may be, to seek him on the 0. P. S. This shall not, however, deter us from being on our guard against his usual cast of cha- racter. To- assist my reader in being so will be my altempvt in the following pages. I alluded to Niekem's managing to sell a horse for a much laro-er sum than he intended to hand over to the owner, and at the same time so to arrange the transactior^ as to shield himself from blame, even should the fact come toltght: but, befare I explain this, justice demands- an ob- servation or two on the subject. Whenever any one attempts to expose the tricks and nefarious practices of any particular business o-r class of men, he should be parrticiilarly careful not to allow it to be supposed that what he shows may be done, and certainly is done in some places, is the general practice in ul/, or that what a Nlckcm may do is to be expected from every man filling the same situation in life. There are doubtless many men of his avocation of great respectability, and- m ALMOST A CERTAINTY. 291 whom we may implicitly trust. We may never be so unfortunate as to meet with a Nickem: if so, I allow a knowledge of his manner of managins^ afHiirs would be of little service to us; but, speaking as liberally as experience w.ll allow me, I do think the odds aie nearly even that we do meet the prototype of friend Nickem: so the odds go in the same ratio that information on this subject may be useful. To be able to judge, by certain signs and appear- ances, of the propinquity of danger, is a mighty useful sort of knowledge: it does us no harm where no danger is nigh, and does us a great deal of good when it is. I remember being quite of this opinion once under the following cir- cumstances: — I went to spend a week with a friend in the New Forest during the hunting season, so of course sent my horses down. He was located in the neighbourhood of Lynd- hurst: a more beautiful country cannot be; that is, for those who like sylvan scenery; better hounds need not be; and better sportsmen or a more pleasant gentlemanlike set of men I never met in any place, and most delighted should I be to meet them at any time: but I must allow I should prefer that time being from April to October, as, during the other months, there are hounds going in other coun- tries, and I have an intuitive dislike to knocking my brains about against the limbs of trees, breaking my horse's legs or shins against stumps of the same, or tumbling into holes and bogs. How those used to these things avoided them as they did, I know not; but this I do know, ten minutes made me acquainted with them all, a degree of intimacy quite unsolicited on my part. We found; pug went off just as I would always wish to see him go; (that is, in a country where I could ride.) I thought 1 could do so there; and, as Pat says, a pretty Molly Hogan 1 made of myself from entertaining such an opinion. Chance gave me a capital place at the fmd, so of course, as ^ fresh man, I took care to get a good start. A splendid open glade was before me, a good-looking country in the distance, hounds going with a burning scent like a hurricane, my- self on a thorough-bred that could, when asked, run a bit on the flat — what could a man ask for more this side of hea- ven! The horse I was on cared nothing about the pace, 292 and I only thought, if this was forest-hunting, no man need wish for any other. I hud heard of bogs, had been in one occasionally with the King's hounds, but those were black, ungentleman-like lookin» traps; not so the beautiful sward I was racing over, l^resently I heard, '-'Ware bog!^^ be- hind me; "hold hardl" It never occurred to me that I was the party warned, and the pace was too good to look back. In a few strides 1 was up to my horse's fetlocks; in a few seconds more up to his girths, w4th the pleasing conviction that if there mas a bottom it was a pretty con- siderable way to it. Seeing a wide expanse of the same delectable green sward before me, thnt I now, to its heart's content, cursed for its treachery, as Daniel O'Rourke did the black eagle; and moreover, not knowing how far it might last, I imprudently tried to turn my horse round; but a regular Hampshire chaw-bacon, with more sense than myself, called out, "Lay the whip into 'un, and coom straight out." Now, the laying the whip into 'un could only affect the head, neck, withers, and loins of my horse, all other parts being secured from such a visitation by the New Forest hasty-pudding. The spurs, however, went to work, and no small share of resolution on the part of my nag brought us through, both blowing like two grampuses. People may say that, professing myself a fox-hunter, and not more nervous than my neighbours, my first thought should have been which way I could again get to the hounds. Candour compels me to allow I made no such inquiry; but I instanter made another — "which was my way home!" With all appendages on me I usually ride about list.; I think I rode home thirteen at. least, allowing for twenty-eight honest pounds of bog-adhesive mixture. I looked black enough then, and my friends told me I looked blue enough when they met me at dinner, till their hospitality made me take sundry bumpers to their continued and my better success. Success to them! I would get into another bog to meet such companions. The next day I considered I could suit the country to a tittle; so I mounted a mare I had, though not at all one of my sort, for she was just fast enough to drive a wheelbar- row; but you could twist her round on a cabbage leaf, and as to fencing, nothing a quadruped, from a Hendon deer to ^■^MAUY, .AIAP.y, LIST AWAKE. '^ 293 a Skye terrier, could get through or over in size or intri- cac}' came amiss to her. We had another glorious find: the varmint came almost under my mare's nose. At such a moment no true enthusiast in fox-hunting can be, or ought to be, in perfect possession of his sober senses: it is mad- dening. I had, however, sense enough to know that no- thing but getting first start would do for "sober Mary:" so off I went by the side of the first two or three couple of hounds, and, without any gasconade, I verily believe I lay with them five hundred yards; but soon I lay by the side of "prostrate Mary," for galloping over some dry ground covered with leaves, and consequently in perfect confi- dence of no bog being in the way, in went Mary up to her breast in a hole, and I on her neck peeping into her ears, I suppose to inquire wl,at was the matter. 3But, by other research, I found we had fallen into the rotten cavity of the roots of a former large tree. Poor Mary and I got on our legs, shook our feathers, but it was "no go:" she was lame as the tree itself, and the sti-ain and bruise of the muscles of the fore-arm spoiled her forest hunting: so 1 had to resort to the bumpers again to keep the steam up that evenino;. Determined, if possible, to see a run in this country, I did uhat 1 considered would ensure my so doing, and to this purpose resolved to take as pioneer next day a gentle- inan who knew every inch of the country; but there is a wide difference between making resolves and keeping them. A iiiost impenetrable fog came on a few ndnutes after we had found. I could see my van-guard for fifty yards before me, but no more. How he gave me the slip I know not, but I all at once missed him, and in his place found myself on the bank of an impracticable brook; heard the hounds running a-head; and there I was as. much at home in point of knowing my locality as I should have been in the Uk- raine. Our good stars order every tb.ing for the best. I hadi an appointment in Northannptonshire; so I left the next day, or, as the New Forest was the grave of one so high as Rufus, I dare say it would have also witnessed the demise of the humble Harry Hie'over. It may be asked, what on earth has Harry Hie'ovek's tumbles and mishaps in the New Forest to do with people':^ 25-* 294 '•''HE WHO FIGHTS AND RUNS AWAY, MAY," ETC. transactions with a Nickem? Perhaps nothing quoad the two occurrences, but a good deal in showing the advantages of information and being put on our guard ; for had I known that New Forest bogs looked sometimes like a well-kept lawn, I should not have been half smothered in one: had I known the lower parts of trees were left to rot in the ground, I should not have ridden, like a Tommy Noodle, where I could not see terra jirina; and had I known the country- like my pioneer, I should, like him, have got to the liounds, and had a good day's sport afterwards, instead of being left staring at a river, and, like the babes in the wood, unwit- ting how to get to my mamma, or, perhaps, more like a stray bull, kept bellowing till a countryman came up, to whom I was glad to give half-a-crown to put me in the high road. If this is not thought illustra'ive enough of the advan- tages of knowing our danger, and the symptoms of its ap- proach, I will suppose a ease. A gentleman has been kicked out of his gig, and has squatted himself by the road-siile, philosophically rubbing his shins, and casting his eyes on, or rather after, his horse, which has made off with a por- tion of the vehicle at his heels; thus gratuitously informing the public that in his case (as in most of our comforts in this life) there is still a something left behind. Now had this gentlemian been told that the object of the kicker is to get rid of the kickee and the vehicle from behind him, he would be quite aware that such a finale would by no means contribute to his interest or comfort. This would rouse his suspicions, keep him on the alert, and prevent his going to sleep. This is something got by information, useful though not pleasant: but if we give him the farther information, that before kicker goes to work, he will wrig- gle his tail, and when he intends beginning in earnest, will bring it close to his rump; in that case, at the first wriggle, if he is a wise man, he will trust kicker no farther: he will get another horse; or, if he is forced to drive him, he will put on a kicking-strap that he cannot break, pull him on his haunches the moment the tail begins again ; and if he is a coachman, and has nerve, will lay the whip on his ears, or in road phrase "take an ear off." So with Mr. Nickem. 1 point out what he possibly in- HOW TO MANAGE A KICKEM-NICKEM. 295 lends doing, and some of the modes that prelude his kind intentions. The reader is, therefore, aware there may be danger, and learns the symptoms of its reaching; him: so he can either change his customer at once, which would perhaps be the wisest plan, or if his convenience makes him use him, put on the kicking-strap at once the moment he begins wriggling, and pull him also on his haunches. Depend on it Nick will have discrimination enough to find out that some one holds the reins of his conduct who will not be trifled with, and who will be quite likely to "take an ear off" him if he begins any of his nonsense; but with such a maa he would know too v/ell to (as he would probably term it) "try it on." We will now see how the selling a horse for (say) eighty, and handing the owner over sixty (this of course minus keep, commission and sundries,) is to be effected. I have shown how a horse is to be got down to a certain price by a regularly concerted chain of iniquitous practices. In that case Nickem bought him; in this he does not; but has still hy other manoeuvres got the owner to consent to his being sold at a less price than Nickem knows lie shall 1)6 able to get for him; or perhaps — from some dislike to the horse, the being obliged to leave the neighbourhood, or from a variety of causes — the owner may offer to sell him for less than he knows he is worth: here a Mr. Med- dler will again come into use. Now, in these cases, the chance of detection of course depends a great deal on whether the horse is sold to remain in the neighbourhood or not; and still more, on whether tiie seller is remaining there, or going away, or abroad. If the latter, he is lucky if he does not get "a dig" to his heart's content. If he is likely to remain, more caution is necessary, and he may get off' with half his skin instead of being regularly flayed: but in either case, Nickem "makes assurance doubly sure:" he won't give a chance away. Do not suppose you will be able to detect him in any act of rascality he may commit; he will be too deep for you. nor suppose he will even d\\o\y a trap to he laid for him; he is too deep for that too. This reminds me of an old country gentleman who came to London: he had heard a great deal of the handy prac- 296 THE BAIT DETECTED. tices of pickpockets, and thought if he could hut detect one, what a story it would he to take to Green Goose Hall! His good lady, Mrs. Oakapple, would hail him a second Munchausen; the windmill exploits of La Mancha's knight, that iiad whilom expanded the eyes of the expanding Oak- a|)ples, junior, would sink into insignificance before the hardiliood of their stalwart pa, who had taken a live pick- pocket! But no such glorious triumph awaited the laud- able efforts of the venerable Oakapple. Out he sallied, and having heard that a well-known print and caricature shop (or rather the pathway in front of it) was the arena where many blue bird's-eye fogks had been abstracted, away he went to the scene of action, his nerves strung to deeds of daring, if daring might be necessary; and, feeling quite certain that whatevisr any pickpocket might be itp to, he should be down on the pickpocket, he left a good long cor- ner of his handkerchief hanging out of his pocket, and u ith (as he thought) an apparent careless look, sauntered before the shop ready for a grab if the trap took. Now mice we know have a predilection for toasted cheese, so have pick- pockels for handkerchiefs; but they won't always nibble, and it required a neater hand than fiiend Oakapple's to bait for the latter marauders. Judge his astonishment and mor- tification, when a knowing-looking gentleman walked up to him, looked him full in the face, and, pointing to the decoy wipe, clapped him on the shoulder, saying, with a derisive smile, '«It won't do, my old cock!" Old cock! what a term to be applied to the head of the Oakapples, a Justice of the Peace, and Lord of Green Goose Manor! Deteated, out^vitted, and beat at his own w'capons, he could only look all he would have done; then buttoned up the decoy tight in his coat-pocket, determined that, as it was not taken as he wanted, it should not be taken at all, and ofiMn high dudgeon he moved homewards: but pickpockets, like Nickem, have various little ways of doing business. Our worthy friend had not proceeded many paces home- wards, growling that his handkerchief had remained in such security, when, to alleviate his chagrin on this subject, wiiop came a hand on the crown of his hat, down goes the hat over his eyes, and while the decoy flew out of his pocket, away went his watch out of his fob; but, horror of OLD, BUT NOT OLD ENOUGH. 297 all horrors! what did he hear? — ^'It will do noz^;, old cock!" — On g;etting his hat to its proper elevation, he only saw half a dozen blackguard urchins grinning around him : he merely stopped to shove up his hat. that from its broken lining had nearly blinded him: he effected this, when, "It will do now, old cock," from the said urchins, sent him, (regardless of mud,) to the middle of the street, where he plunged into a cab, perfectly satisfied that he did not quite know all that might be taught him. In fact, if a man means to get among knowing ones, he must live some years and be pretty wide awake before he can venture to say of and to himself, "You'll do now, old cock!" It will 7iot do, however, unless I now return to Mr. Nickem; and I will place him by supposition in about as awkward a position as possible, and one that it might be thought difficult to get out of. If he succeeds in doing so with credit to himself, instead of being detected, we must allow he had taken a few more lessons in "wide-awake- ism" than the Lord of Goose Green Manor. Now, the term wide-awake-ism is rather a long one: I allow I cer- tainly never heard it used in a drawing-room, nor is it to be found in Johnson : it is a little manufacture or compila- tion of my own, of which I am rather proud, and for this reason. Although there is a most mortifying falling off from the talent of the worthy lexicographer to my own, still no half dozen words he ever wrote or used can con- vey just the same meaning. (I dare say, however, he ne- ver intended that they should.) If I wanted to convey an idei of the ridiculous, I would suppose the scene between the Dr. and any man who had told the former that he was ivide awake: still to be so is useful sometimes; so it will be seen it was to Nickem. He had, no matter from what cause, got leave to sell a gentleman's horse for sixty: the gentleman was leaving the place to go abroad, and had taken his place in the mail for that purpose. All this Nickem knew was to take place: so a bungler would have made no preparations for any conlre/enips that might occur; when, as will be seen, there would have been, as sailors say, "the devil to pay, and no pitch hot:" but let what could occur, Nicken) was, like Lothario, "equal to both, and armed for cither field." 298 THREATENING A STORM. The horse was reported sold : the gentleman came for the l^alance of his sixty pounds: now, though the keep and commission came to a round sum, Nickem thought, as the gentleman was going away, he might as well try for a pound or two more: so sa}s, '-I was forced, sir, a little to exceed your directions, hut I thought you would not like to lose the sale- of your horse for two pounds; so I took fifty-eight: if you ohject to it, it shall be immediately takeft out of my commission, as of course I had no right to exceed jHiur orders; but I did for the best." The gentleman, with the liberality of one, replies, ^'Oh no, Mr. JSickem; I do not wish that: pay me the balance, and I am satisfied: you were quite right, as 1 must go this afternoon." So far no- thing could be better. If the gentleman was satisfied, Nickem was perfectly so: and thus we may suppose the matter concluded. We have seen how Nickem has be- haved, and acquitted himself while it was all fair weather: let us now see how presence of mind and properly-taken precaution will serve him when a storm seems likely to burst on his devoted head. The gentleman, while they were changing horses at the fir.-^t stage, happened to see another on his lately sold nag, and, as a man naturally might do, went up to his old servant, patted him, and said to the rider, "You have bought a horse lately mine: I congratulate you on your purchase; he is an excellent horse: I am glad to see him in such good hands, and as from going away I was obliged to sell Fiim so much under his value, 1 am glad a gentleman has got him." — "I like your horse exceedingly," replies the purchaser; "but I think I gave as much as his fair value for him." — "I assure you," replied the first owmer, "I gave ninety for him six months since, and consider him worth it, and you have him at fifty-eight." — "Excuse me, sir," said the purchaser, "I gave eighty guineas for him." — "Eighty!" cried the former: "and did you buy him at Nickem's?" — "I did," says the purchaser. — "Then," re- plies the seller, "you must allow Mr. Nickem is neither more nor less than a robber and a scoundrel !" "Now, sir!" says the coachman. — "No," replies the gentleman, "I shall not go on." — "Right!" cries the guard — exi/ msiW. — The gentleman orders a chaise "directly." A CAL.M COMING ON. 299 — "Hostler, if you please, sir." — "Porter, sir, if yoa please.'' — "Go on, boy:" and now earzV post-chaise.— "The t'rench swore terribly in Flanders/' says Corporal Trim. (I dare say they did, for I have heard them swear pretty well in their own country,) but that was with a kind of shut teeth grating sacrc sound, quite unlike the fine round volume of sound with which the oaths came from llvft mouth of our vengeful gentleman: the chaise could not hold them, so he opened the windows, and they escaped on each side like soap-and-water bubbles from a boy's to- bacco-pipe. The current of air one might think during the ten miles might have cooled the gentlenian, but it did not, or his anger. The curses bestowed on the well-known Obadiah were tolerably particular and multifarious; but they were few in number and mild in imjDort to those ful- minated against the culprit Nickem. He was to be ex- posed, prosecuted to the utmost rigour of the law, thrash- ed ; (only some doubts arose on the practicability of this latter mode of vengeance;) but in bis own yard he should be convicted before all present: in shortj what was not to be done? But, ah, what simple circum!?tances often turn aside' the greatest resolves! Up came the smoking horses to Nickem's gate, out jumped the gentleman, sv^^elled by the pent-up passions he prepared to give vent to. There stood the supposed convicted felon, but with no apparent conscious feelings of fear or repentance in his countenance, no downcast look, no visible trepidation of manner: he savv the gentleman coming: the bland and seeming honest smile of Nickem, though it made no difference in his irate cus- tomer's resolves, lowered thelveat of his passion from 110 degrees to 50 of Fahrenheit: so he spake temperately. "' Pray, Mr. Nickem, how do you account for your con^ duct respeetmg myhofse?" — Nickem: "In what way, sir?" — Seller r " Why, I met the gentleman this day who bought, and gave eighty guineas for him, when, as you know, you told me you sold hi-m at fifty-eight." — ^Nick: "I don't wonder at yoivr being angry, sir, at all; 1 have been out of hu-mou-r with myself ever since \ sold him: I sold him to as great a vagabond as any in town; and you might just as well, and much better, have had the eighty guineas as him: but you shall see I am not to blame. Mr. 300 CLEAR AND SATISFACTORY EVIDENCE. Meddler," says Nickem (addressing the latter, who I need not say was always as much at hand as Nickem's whip,) " do you happen to have the receipt about you that you took for the chestnut horse ?" — 'M don^tknow, I am sure,'^ says Meddler; " if I hav'n^t, I have it at home." His well- used pocket-book comes out, and out of that (after a good deal of apparent search) comes a paper: — "Received of Mr. Michael Meddler fifty-eight pounds for a chestnut gelding, warranted sound, sold for Thomas Tobedone, Esq.; for N. Nickem, Gregory Go between." ''That is satisfactory, certainly, Mr. Nickem," says the gentleman: "then it appears the horse was sold twice?" — "Just so, sir," gflys Nickem: "this fellow had not the horse two hours before in comes the gentleman you saw, and be stuck him for eighty: of course I could say nothing; he had a right to get what lie chose after buying the horse. If I had been lucky enough to have waited, I should have got it for you. I could have knocked my bead against the wall. I did not like to mention it to you, as it would do no good; and as I know how I felt, I thought it no use to annoy you by telling you of it!" AVhere are now all the convictions, the law-proceedings, the threatened exposures! There is the proof of as fair a transaction as possible. The gentleman even feels it due to say something in extenuation of his doubts of its fair- ness, and ends by saying in part apology, "You must al- low, Nickem," (no Mr. now — we don't always Mister honest fellows,) "it did at first look oddV Nickem al- lows it did look odd: the gentleman was not aware of how many odd things are done in some repositories! The wisest, and indeed the only thing our defeated friend can now do is to go and make himself as comfortable as he can for the evening, and again take his place by the next day's mail. Having discussed his cutlet, and being now placidly taking his wine and an olive, he takes out his pencil and tablets, and just makes out the Dr. and contra Cr. state of his account so far as relates to this said horse. Nickem does the same thing, the statement of each being about as follows:— MEMOKANUUMS. 301 T. TOBEDONE S ACCOUNT NICKEIn's ACCOUNT. £. s. d. £. sj d.- I'd difference between £90 To difference-money paid for, and £58 in price of horse 32 and price sold, Tobedone's Paid Nickem commission - 2 18 horse - - _ - 26 Keep three weeks - - 3 3 Commission - 2 18 Removing shoes (Mem. never By ball and shoes - 3 removed) - - - 2 Profit three weeks' livery - 18 A diuretic (never given) - 1 Nagsman and helper at Nick- £29 19 em's - - - - 12 n Paid Meddler £5 - 5 Mail-fare forfeited - - 2 Chaise los., boy 3^., hostler ] 5., porter 1^. - - 1 Net Profit - Loss - £41 16 f) £24 19 "This will do for me," cries Nick, rubbing his hands: he is right; and it will do for the gentleman if he only goes on in the same w^y. But by-and-by we xvil! try to put him in a better. We may in all cases guard against a rogue to a great degree: in many^ we may efiectually do so: but though a man may be a man of education, sense, and talent, if he pits himself against a thorough-paced rogue,- on the score o[ detection, in nineteen cases in twenty, the practised low cunning and self-possession of the latter will beat the other hollow. I have mentioned the manufacturing of corns as a part of the business of such an establishment as Nick's. 1 can assure my readers that the manufacture of letters and notes to suit particular occasions, and represented as coming from different persons, is quite as frequent a practice. Tiie executive part of this note and letter department is carried on bv the clerk, occasionally assisted by a "Mr. JNIeddler," of course under the control of Nick, who would not com- mit himself by the chance of a letter of his own writing being brought against him. The clerk values his berth too much to talk, though perhaps an honest man himself, whose conscience often rebels against what he is made to do. Be- sides, though it might be proved he wrote a note, it might not be easy to prove he was directed to do so: and as the weakest generally go to the wall, Nick would he too strong for him; so the result of any babbling on his part would only end in his being at once turned out, and stigmatized 26 302 IM-MORTALIZIXG AN AUTHOR". (from want of proof of ths reverse] as an ungrateful scohth drel: so l^e is, in racing phrase, " made safe." As for Meddler, Nick's first object in patronizing him is to get him in his debt: he therefore is a tool, a mere &lave in Nick's hands: if he dared speak, he would belaid by the heels, as Pat says, "in less than no time;" and pro- bably he would be subject to an action for defamation; im which case his general character not being likely to be any strong advocate in his favour, he is quite aware he could have no chance: so he is "made safe" also. Never therefore let a seller or buyer be misled by letters shown him: they are as much to be depended upon as are the same things someHmes manufactured by some dealers. If we have to do with a respectable man, we want no such attempted, corroboratory evidence: if we meet a rogue, a letter shown by him is just as much proof of truth as his word or his oath, and these would be no proof at all. In speaking thus plainly, I do not feel any qualification neces- sary, as I only allude to some dealers and some repository- keepers, and quite as much to som,e tradesmen of any sort, but particularly, however, to some of the 2S, \\d\ sort I before alluded to. 1 have only in one or two instances ever particularized (in what I have written) any individual or establishment, unless where I felt I could indulge in the pleasure of doing so in terms of commendation. When I have done other- wise, the persons mentioned or alluded to deserved much more than I said of them. I had a hint given me some time since, that a definiiion of the cliaracters of the difier- ent leading horse-dealers in London and the country would be acceptable to the public — I think it right to say this hint did not in any way directly or indirectly emanate from the worthy publisher of the Sporting Magazine — but it would be an ungracious task, and one I should he very reluctant to undertake. Whether I may ever men- tion the names of some that I consider worthy the confr- dence of the public would be another affair. If I was a vain or ostentatious man, I miglit be tempted to do this, as those gentlemen might in return immortalize my name by jointly purchasing a second-hand mile-stone to be erected to the memory of Harry nHie-ovek ; that is, ?y they could A GOOD FELLOW, TAKE HIM ALTOGETHER. 303 find a spot of ground sufficiently waste to get permission to put it up. I have mentioned my dislike to parilcularize persons and places unless in a perfectly -commendatory way. J^ut I wish my readers to be satisfied that all (and of course ten times as much as) I have stated mai/ be done in reposi- tories I k 7101V has been done; but I by no means wish to indicate where. The supposed cases 1 have stated 1 have seen take place. So long since as the year 1S25, I was ordered to a cer- tain part of Her Majesty's dominions where there vv^s and now is one of the largest repositories known. I was sta- tioned there eleven years, and having plenty of time on my hands, I was every day, and sometimes oftener, in this establishment. It was a lounge. I have, moreover, bought there and sold there; and being always interested in those pursuits, and keeping my eyes and ears open, and particu- larly my mouth shut, I soon got an fait of all that vvas going on. This eleven years' investigation was a pretty good apprenticeship; and a close inspection of what is done in other similar establishments since has made me a match for many people: but with all due and proper humility, I allow I might very possibly still be done by Nickem, though, like many others in unequal contests, we would have a tussle for it To show there is a fair chance of myself as w'ell as many others getting an occasional "stick," I will mention how one occurred, and how I got out of it. The owner of the repository I now allude to was one of those few men of such imperturbable good humour tliat nothing could ruffle it, let him do what he would— and certainly some very funny things he did do occasionally. However victimized a man might be by him, the moment you came face to face with him, his own honest-looking and good-tempered one disarmed all attempts lo be angry with him; and a thorough good-natured and good-hearted fellow he was in the main; but he could not help doing you: it was with him a positive monomania: he could not be happy unless he did. People knew he would, yet for the life of them they could neither keep away from him, prevent his doing it; nor be angry with him when he did. The way he kept 304 TURN AND TURN ABOUT. his customers together was this. He did you to-day: you grumbled at the purchase: there was no hesitation or ex- cuse made on his part, but he said at once, " Send him back^ Pll get you out of him:" and so he would. He would give you '^ a dig" to-day, and give some one else a double-distilled one to-morrow to get you out of it. The last he contrived to give to somebody he did^not care about, or to some green-horn who he could talk into believ- ing he had done him a favour. I had had so many deals with him that I thought he would not attempt or wish to dome: but the '•■ruling passion" once (and I must say pnly once) was too strong for him. I went to see a gentleman's stud sold. I saw a very fine brown horse that struck my fancy. I went up to our friend of the sunny smile, and asked about the horse. He was all and every thing I could wish. "Is he sound?" said I, "and what may I bid for him?" — -"He is sound," said Sunny, "and buy him at any thing under fifty.*' He was knocked down to me at forty-eight. I followed my pur- chase into the stable, liked him much, and he was ap- parently as sound a horse as I ever saw or handled. After the sale, I went to the stable to get him saddled to ride him home. I now saw he had ^favourite leg or foot that he was nursing under the manger. 1 guessed the truth at once, and saw that he was lame in walking out of the stable. It is true he was sold without warranty, but I bought him on Sunny's word, and 1 determined he should make it good. Not choosino; to expose my purchase or myself before some hundred [)eople, I gave him on mounting a kick with both heels, and cantered him out of the yard. The next morn? ing I found him, of course, as lame as a tree. I got on him, and cantered him into as I had out of the yard, dismount- ed, turned him loose, and told Sunny, "there was his re- commendation; I would not pay for him, would not lose by him, and, what was more, would neither pay for keep till he was sold nor commission on his sale." Sunny only laughed; accommodated an officer with him who was going abroad, and positively offered me a profit on the price I was to have given for him, which, of course, I refused to take. He never played me a trick afterwards. I could not be angry with the devil, even had I lost by the transaction: AN ECLIPSE. 305 l^at I did as I have recommended others to do hy Nick — I brou(:;lit him on his haunches at once, and always kept the kicking-strap on: but he never attempted even a lift afterwards with me. There is another department in similar establishments that is productive in various ways of a much greater source of profit where a larger business is done than people may imagine. In such a one as that I have alluded to, th^ legitimate profits of these were not less than from six to seven hundred a-year; and where five shillings is charged for putting in harness, and breaks are out, perhaps, ten times a-day, the profits may be easily conceived. I n^.ean, by what I designate legitimate profits, the fairly trying and breaking horses to harness: what the illegitimate profits may be it is impossible to calculate, as they depend on cir- cumstances. By illegitimate profits, I mean tiying horses in harness without the knowledge of the owner; the con- triving to make a horse go quietly at one time that is a devil incarnate at others; and vice versa, making a horse disposed to draw quietly appear and in fact be the very reverse — all of which little funny tricks are to be managed, and are managed, as may suit different occasions. In short, there is no branch of the business of a repository in which in some places a little chiselling is not made use of. I have shown where it is very much to tlie interest of a Nickem to privately ascertain whether a horse left w^ith him for sale will go in harness or not. It may be easily conceived when it is desirable to make a vicious one go steady; this is, of course, when he is to be got off. When it is equally desirable that he should not go quietly may- require a word or two of explanation: but to be able to effect this, a thoroughly practised breaksman is required. xVow, a man may be a very good coachman, though know very little of his business as a breaksman ; but the latter cannot be fit for his business unless he is a first-rate coach- man; and he requires much more than this: he must per- fectly understand the habits and tempers of young horses, and, indeed, of all horses: he must have a clear head, quick apprehension, good temper, great presence of mind, strong nerves, strong but light hands, know every contrivance to thwart the intentions of \ iolent horse^, and the mode of 20* 306 PREPARATION. soothing timid ones: he must be able, from habit, to judge at once by the manners of a horse what he is likely or is preparing to do : in short, to judge at once what sort of a cus- toner he has to deal with. If he is all this, and, more- over, a civil, sober, and honest man, he is worth any wages he can reasonably ask to a respectable dealer or repository- keeper. He must be all this to suit Nickem (leaving out the honesty,) for, to suit him, he must be as great a rogue as his master: he must know by a turn of the eye of that master whether a horse is to go quietly or the reverse: he must not always even wait for this: he must have quickness enough to judge by the circumstances of the case what he is to do, as well as be equal to do it; and I can assure my read- er, to do it is much easier to talk about than to perform. But in case he should see a horse of his own tried in har- ness, and that he may be able to judge whether all is being done as it should be, I will give him the best information experience enables me to do on the subject. He will then, should his horse ?iqI go quietl}^ be enibled to judge whether the fault is in the animal, or arises from ignorance or design in those about him; that is, supposing the method I point out to be correct: of that others must judge, but I do not think I am very far astray. When a horse is tried for ihe first time, it is the usual practi("e to put him in double harness — 1 always try him first in simple, for reasons I will hereafter give; but this horse we will suppose to be going into tlie double-break, and that we hare time to do what we wish. Having been always fond of this sort of thing, I have, of course, broke many to harness for my own use, ten times as many for my friends, and, by dint of patience and perseverance, have seldom been beat even b}^ the roughest pupils. Where there are breaks, break-horses, breaksnian, and help at hand, >N hat I should do, expect, and, indeed, insist on being done with a horse of mine, would be this. The horse should be harnessed in the stable: this prevents him shying from the harness when being put on him. An open collar should be put on to avoid shoving one over his head and eyes to alarm him: the harness is then very gently put on his back: the crupper, of course, unbuckles at the side, so as to allow his tail to be easily placed on it, and let down by degrees: INSTALLING A PUPIL. 307 this being done, the horse is to be turned round in his stall, and, with his winkers on, put on the pillar reins: he thus feels the harness, and o;ets accustomed to the winkers, which, of course, make every object come suddenly before him. After standing for a time, and reconciled to the feel of his new trappings, he should be led out, and let feel them hanging about him: then trotted, that he may also feel them more sensibly. When he is reconciled to this, and while he is being so, the break is got out, the break* horse in it, and placed in a situation, if possible, where a plunge or two can do no harm. He is then to be led up to the break, tlie breaksman having first ascertained, if he did not know before, what sort of a mouth he has. This nnv he judged of by laying hold of the cross-bar of tlie bit. The horse's own side of the driving-rein should be on him, so as 0[ily the coupling-rein is required to be fastened wlien he is put in. In forty-nine cases out of fifty, the driving- rein sliould be to the cheek with a raw or young horse, but sometimes, of course, even to the lower bar. On put- ting him alongside the break-horse, great caution is neces-^ sary to prevent him toucliingthe break hastily: the breaks- mail stands at the head of his horses to give directions and soe how things go on: one man is ready to pole-piece him loD-^ely up, while, at the same momenty another puts on the outside trace; the itiside one is not of the same conse- quence, as the horse is now secured. A man now takes the breaksman's place, caressing the young one: if he is very restless, let him lay hold of his ear. The breaksman jumps up; his break-horse, if he is a good, quick, and powerful one, which he should.be, either takes the break off quite gently, or will pull off Mr. Recruit, whether he likes it or not, as the breaksman wishes. The gentle mode, except with a very refractory customer, is always the best, the latter being a kiil-or-cure sort of business. A man runs alongside the young one to encourage him, and to keep his shoulder against him if he hangs too much out of harness. The pupil should be allowed to trot along with- out feeling either pole-piece or trace, till he begins to wish of his own accord to get forward; lie may then be allowed to do so. So soon as he has become a little steady, a mile is the most he should be driven, or his shoulders will pro- 308 "HOOLY AND FAIRLY." bably be scalded. This would make him sh)^ of facing the collar again, and prevent a lesson next day. On coming home, the greatest caution is required in taking him out. The coupling-rein and inside trace must be first undone: then the pole-piece and outside trace, as in putting to, and care taken he does not touch any part of the break in going off. If this is done, very few horses will do mischief to themselves or any thing else. Having got home safe v/ith our horse in double harness, we will now put him or another in the single break. Of course the same routine as to harnessing must be gone through: he is brought with his driving feins on at their proper place on the bit; the break is to be placed where it can be easily drawn ofi': not up-hill, or on a thick straw bed. The horse is to stand till he is quiet: the break is then quite noiselessly to be drawn up to him, and gently let down on him. Three men are cjuite necessary to put him in ; that is, two, and the breaksman at his head. The traces, belly-band, and kicking-strap must be got on as •quickly but as quietly as possible. The gentleman is now caught, and with three men about him he cannot hurt or be hurt. One thing I forgot to mention, which should never under any circumstances be omitted in trying a horse in single harness; 1 may indeed say in double. A common flat-headed hempen halter should be pnt on under his winker-bridle, the rope or shank of which should be passed round and tied in a knot on the cross-bar of the bit. With this held by the man at his side, and a good pair of reins, there is little fear of a run-away, a thing most of all to be dreaded. The horse being in the break, the driver takes his place quietly; no touch of a whip, no cl — k even, to start him; one man is at his side with the shank of the halter in his hand: another, with one hand on the shaft and the other on the step-iron, is ready to ease the bre ik off the moment a sign from the breaksman shows it is time to do so. When it is, the man at the horse's head moves gently on, leading (not pulling) the horse forward; the other pulls, but by no means forces the break after him. If the horse hesitates, let him stand till he is inclined to move; when he does go, let him walk away, the nan at his side keeping hold of the halter; at a proper time coax A MASTER-HAND WANTED. 309 him into a trot, the man still running by his side. When he goes quietly, let this man gently fasten the halter shank to the D of the hame, and leave the horse's side. He then quietly gets into the break, and the drive goes on. Should the horse stop, which is likely enough, let him stand: he will very shortly want to go somewhere. Let him, if it be possilDle, take any road he likes: no matter which way he goes, provided he draws the break after him ; he can easily be turned when going; but of all things, in harness or out of harness, avoid a fight with a horse till the last extremit3^ It is always a risk, and should be avoided. Our horse is now goiny; gently, so we will take him home and get him gently out of harness. Having attempted to show uhat should be done to make a horse go quietly, I will shortly show what I know is done to prevent his doing so. When this is the order of the dav^, as it requires a man that knows his business to make a restiff bad-disposed horse go quietly, so I can as- sure my readers a good deal of knowledge of the thing is required to make a good-tempered one appear the reverse; but it is to be done, even while the owner is looking on, and (unless indeed he knows as much as those employed about the horse) it will be done without his detecting the means used. It requires, however, quick fellows and workmen to do it, just upon the same principle, as that no half dozen men knowing little of music could, for the life of them, make half such horrii)le discord as the same num- ber of perfect musicians. Discord, indeed, the former would treat us to, but not such discord as the latter could make, if they chose to try. W^hy? because the same want of knowledge that would prevent the former making har- mony, would prevent their making the most perfect dis^ cord. We will try shortly if we cannot put our horse's tem^ per out of tune. I suppose that in my general intercourse with the world — by world 1 mean mankind — it has fallen to my lot to meet with about the usual varieties of tempers incidental to my fellow-men — that is, good tempers, bad tempers, in- fernal tempers, and intermediate tempers. There are some tempers so even and serene, that nothing short of ill-usage, 310 TEMPERS POSITIVE, COMPARATIVE, AND SUPERLATIVE. injustice, or insult, can turn them from the even tenor of their way: others, that the slightest contradiction causes their owners to play porcupine at once, a habit that would be mighty pleasant in a wife, if the possibility existed of ladies showing temper. Then there are tempers that par- take so mych of that of the dark gentleman of horn and hoof notoriety, that, do what you will, they are not to be pleased or conciliated, wiio, as it is beautifully and figura- tively expressed, "get out of bed the wrong end first." (Quaere, what end is alluded to?) If we could suppose any thing so improbable and monstrous as a lady thus emerging from her couch, I can imagine an end on which, if presented, a very very leetle gentle tap or two might be allowable, as the only kind of pardonable or to-be-dreamt- of corporal punishment to be tolerated — a mode of correc- tion by far more manly (and agreeable,) both to the one who administers it and the one who receives it, than the brutal idea of " the stick the size of a thumb," allowed by a judge, who could never have tried my plan; for if he had, and did not prefer it, he must have been a very hd.d judge indeed, at least in such little or large matters (as the case might be.) Then there is the intermediate temper, which I consider belongs to such as are pleased enough when ever}'- thing is done to please them. From what I have seen of men, I consider the last as very tolerable and bearable tempers. We are bound in this world to do what we con- sider will be likely to be pleasant to each other in a rea- sonable way; and all I should ask of a companion would be to be good-humoured when I did so. I do not mean, if I cut off a man's ear, and he grumbled, and then if I took off a piece of his nose, and he grumbled worse, that I should bave any right to say, " do what I would, I could not please him;" but 1 do think I should not ask too much if I re- quired good-humour when I did what ought to please; yet I have often found my expectations in this disappointed. Now, I do what I can to please my readers. It may be that they may say my endeavours in this are analogous to the taking off the nose, because taking off the ear did not please: if so, the best thing I could do would be to take my- ^^¥ off, for the fault would not be in the reader, but in my bad judgment as to what is likely to please. TEMPERS COMPARED. 311 Horses hate their tempers as well as men: there are vicious, violent, and sulky tempers ; but justice to animal creation induces nie to sa}^, that in all domestic animals, the bad tempers bear no proportion at all to the good; and farther, I am quite certain, that, comparino; horses with men, I estimate Goth fairly in saying that the proportion of bad tempers in men to tliose in horses, are ten to one in favoiVr of the latter. In point of goodness of disposition between the two animals, the proportion, I am sorry to say, I consider much greater; for there is not one horse in a hundred that would attempt to hurt or annoy man, unless he first hurts him; and very seldom even then, unless fright makes him do so. Now experience convinces me there is not one man in a hundred that will hesitate in hurt- ing; or annovino' the horse, if interest or even convenience induces him to do it. I fear a very little more interest or convenience would render him not very nice about hurt- ing or annoying his fellow-man. But I allow I am not one of those who look on the august figure of man with all that veneration this said august personage generally con- siders himself entitled to: I am not exactly of the opinion of the poor Indian, " Who tliinks, admitted to that equal sky, His faithful dog shall bear him company:" but I do consider that no greater right was awarded to me to ill-use an animal than was given to the animal to ill-use me. But we are not novv on the subject of ill-using animals. I am only going, as I proposed, to show how, by a suc- cession of annoyances and rascally manosuvres for merce- nary motives, the temper of a fine and u ell-disposcd ani- mal may be roused to violence. Pray which is the greater brute in this case? I am afraid the august personage is not the more respectable animal. He certainly is the greater rascal: but without any absolute ill-usage, we will, as I pro- posed, put the horse in harness and out of temper. Gutta cavat lapidem, non vi, sed, &c. We will suppose a Mr. Nickem, for some reason, wishes it to appear that a horse is not likely to go quietly in harness: we will say he wishes to buy hira, which he perhaps might not be able to do if the owner thought the 312 BRUTE-ALITY. horse likely to make one for harness: \ve will also suppose' Nickem is quite satisfied that the horse, if properly treat- ed, will go quietly; his worthy assistants know this too 5 and they also know, if they allow him to do this against the wishes of master, that master would very soon find other assistants tliat would not: so of course the thing is settled. As the owner would not permit his horse to be' ill-used before his eyes, the effect wanted mus-t I)e produced by means that will not be detected by him, or at least not by one owner in fifty: if ho should happen to be the fifti- eth, who does know all about it, he is no customer for Nickem; for should the former put on his wide-awake hal^ Nickem may put on his nightcap. Having seen a horse put in harness that is wished to go properly and quietly, we will just see the difference of treatment with the one that is not to go so. The horse is first led from the stable to where the harness is hung in the yard. This a person might suppose is only done for convenience sake, or that it was thouglit a more safe place than a stall from there being more room. A plain round (not open) collar is put on, taking care it is full small for his head, so that there may be plenty of shoving to get it over his eyes. Nine horses out of ten are alarmed at a halter being passed over their head for tlic first time, even if it is gently done: what must one bt" v-^herr his eyes are really hurt by a tight collar? The horse na- turally runs back to avoid it, probably ajjainst some ob- stacle behind him, and thus he is twice frightened in the onset. The owner probably ventures to remark, " That collar seems rather small for my horse, does it not?'' — "Oh dear, no, sir; if it was larger it might scald his shoul- der: large collars always are sure to do it." This is true enough, but open ones can be buckled to any size (the owner perhaps never saw one:) so, after the horse has been shoved about sufficiently, the collar u- got on. Then, in- stead of putting on his winker-bridle, to prevent his see- ing the harness about to be put on him, his halter only re- mains: my life on it, he shies at the harness. He is then well halloo'd at for this, and of course more frightened by that. He is now restless and on the qui vive, watching every movement.^ " He'll be. a rummish customer^ I can DESPERATION. 313 see," says one of* the fellows: and now, to show they all think so, the bridle is put on, curbed tight, the harness brought, and, instead of being gently laid, is thrown sud- denly on his back: this of course produces a plunge; the man at his head cannot suffer himself to be knocked down and run over — (Mem. all the better if he was) — so he gives the horse two or three severe chucks back with a tightly- curbed powerful bit: back goes the unfortunate horse, hits something again behind him, again rushes forward, when- lie gets again punished for doing this. The harness is now to be fastened, if it has not in the scuffle fallen oflT. The fel- low who is to put on the crupper approaches the horse to do so as he would an enraged tiger; lifts up his tail at arm's length, then jum])s out of the way, as much as to signify that he had a narrow escape with his life. The " terribly violent brute" is, however, harnessed: the fellow leads him on, pretends he has trod on his heel ; this is an excuse for an (apparently) necessary snatch at the horse's mouth again, which, with the harness hanging about, produces another bustle, and makes the bruised mouth still more tender. The horse is by these means worked up to a frenzy, and in this state is brouglit up to the double-break: but instead of this being done as it ought, he is let, indeed made, to run against the roller-bolt. This, likely enough, induces him to kick at it. The fellows now all shake their heads at him. '' I'd jist as soon you driv him as me, Jem," to the' breaksman; who, to show what a fine fellow he is. replies, " if they gived him the devit, he'd drive him : ht^ ar'n't sure' he hasn't got him now." 'I'he horse is now shoved a^^ainst the pole: this induces him to fling himself on the outside trace. Here is another fright and bustle: the harness lioid* him, it is true, and the only chance is his hurting himselfi The pole-piece is put on so short that if the break-horse at- tempts to take him off", the collar cames so suddenly on his withers, that he feels as if he was going to get his neck broke : he of course resists, hangs back, gets a smart stroke of the whip, plunges forward, and now the sore mouth tells ; for the moment he feels the bit, he again hangs back, and, not improbably, throws himself down. Seeing the present state of the case, the owner most probably desires his horse may be taken out of harness, quite satisfied he is 27 314 THE WORM WILL TURN. not likely to go: if so, Nickem's end is answered. If the owner wishes him still farther tried, he is pulled, pushed, and whipped out of the yard somehow, should the owner go with them, by making the break-horse thwart every inclination of the other to do right; and the unfortunate pupil being punished under the pretence he is trying to do wrong, he is set down as incorrigible. If the owner does not go with his horse, he is driven and brought back, two fellows running by his side, pretending to be out of breath from their exertions to keep the mcioiis bride from breaking every thing to atoms. The horse, on being taken from the break, naturally rushes away from it frightened to death, and thus corroborates the statements of those who went with him, that "of all the devils they ever saw, he was the worst;'' not forgetting to hint, that after their violent ex- ertions a little refreshment in the shape of drink would be acceptable. Thus in this world are often the innocent sacrificed and the guilty rewarded; and thus I fear it often is where man and man are concerned when power and vil- lany have only justice to oppose them. Supposing Mr. Nickem has succeeded in purchasing this made-viQ,\ous horse, the owner is surprised to see him a few days afterwards going in harness as quietly as his natural good temper would have made him do at first, if he had been permitted to do so. He expresses his surprise, but is told "they never had so much trouhle with any horse; did not think they ever should have made him go," &c. : Nickem "does not think any man but his breaks- man could have done it:" so it ends fn the gentleman losing heavily in the sale to Nickem: Nick nicking it pretty largely in the sale to some other' gentleman who wants a particular steady horse for harness; and Jem substantiating his own words that he would and could drive the devil. It is not merely in such places as I have represented that it is sometimes convenient to make a horse appear likely to be troublesome to break, either to drive or ride: those gentlemen yclept horse-breakers are quite awake to the trick, whether employed at a repository or elsewhere. Horses are broken usually for a certain sum, sometimes by the lessons. Now, if it is seen that a horse is likely to be easily broken^ the owner, after a couple of lessons, would NICKEM AWAKE STILL. 315 think that a little practice and gentle usage would render him all he wanted: this would not do for the breaker's purpose; so, as in the other case, he must be made trouble- some: and should a specified sum be agreed upon before he is tried, the more violent he is made appear at first, the greater merit in the breaker in making him steady: so he gains the same vaunted character as Jem for devil-driving. There is another little item or two on the profit side of the question to be remembered. If a horse loses flesh while breaking, it may be attributed to his own violence and temper; so it is not the usual custom of these gentry to pamper him with too great an allowance of oats of 40 lb. the bushel, so they make the livery profit very like 10.9. per week. Then it is quite right young ones should be used to crowds: so after a horse is quite tractable, many a halfrcrown is made by mounting or driving (some one they can trust with the secret) to a fight or a fair. If the owner sees it, the breaker has had him there to make him quite steady before he leaves his hands! Let me tell owners another thing. In some repositories (but certainly never in respectable ones) many a man is mounted for a ride, who, if seen, is riding the horse on trial, or trying to ride. I can mention an instance. One of these on-trial fellows had a horse out, and it was known he would not be back for some time: the owner unex- pectedly and unfortunately (for the Nickem of the place) came in. A fool or an honest man, if he had been induced to do wrong, would be taken aback on such an occasion: not so Nickem : the gentleman was told at once '-his horse was sold and gone," and that the next day he might have his money. He came, but the money did not: ^' the horse had shied, thrown and nearly killed the gentleman; but supposing he did recover, Nickem would lose one of his best customers: the gentleman was a capital horseman, but no one could sit a horse that reared and fell backwards." No man can deny the truth of the latter truism : it is a summary sort of ejectment of an unpleasant occupant of the back, which, if horses were oftener to adopt, would be much to their advantage, and not unfrequently give soci- ety a fair chance of reaping advantage also. Besides, it woijld save a vast deal of trouble in plunging, kicking, ^c,, 315 THE OLD GEORGE STEAMEE. which does not always succeed: the retrograde manoeuvre always does. People, like horses, often take a great deal of trouble to do that which might be done by some more simple process. I have seen a terrible scuffle made to get a troublesome fellow out of a house: this is bad taste and bad tact: how easy the thing is to be done! Put the poker into the fire (if it is not there already;) wait till it is a fine glowing white heat; present it within a foot of the to- be-ejectee's nose, quietly and in a courteous manner follow him, keeping your poker at the charge (no charge will be required;) my life on it my gentleman makes off in any required direction. This reminds me of an anecdote of a servant of mine: it may on a similar occasion be useful to ladies, so I will mention it. My wife had once been so long tormented by a milliner as to trimming a bonnet, that she determined to have it home finished or unfinished: she sent a note to this purpose by George (Old George as he was called,) ac- quainted him with its purport, with directions not to re- turn without the bonnet. On handing in the note, a writ- ten answer was handed to him : Old George knew a bon- net could not be contained in a small note, so demanded the former as an accompaniment. He was told to " go about his business" — this, to do him justice, was a useless order, for he never neglected it. — He considered his busi- ness in this case was to get the bonnet, and have it he would if any human being could get it. This his mistress well knew, and this he took upon himself verbally to let Mademoiselle know. He then quietly sat down in the passage: he was of course ordered out: Old George only grinned a ghastly grin (I never knew him laugh.) He was threatened with expulsion by some man to be called in : Old George only grinned more ghastly than before, for he was one who would have made most men grin who had tried this with him. He was at last told to "sit there till he was tired:" he only grinned at this either. Now George (whenever he could indulge in it) was a smoker: not one of your small Thames smokers; no, he was a re- gular Great Western, Great Liverpool, nay Great Britain herself, and always went provided for a cloud. Presently Mademoiselle and half her coterie came running down. A FAITHFUL SERVANT. 317 There was Old George quietly but energetically puffing away, nearly invisible in the donse cloud, which had as- cended, as a hive of bees, he had fairly smoked them out. Words were useless, excuses equally so: he "only waited for his missus's bonnet." To send it home unfinished was annoying to Mademoiselle, but the smoke was intole- rable; so of course the bonnet was produced, and Old George gratuitously gave one of his best Sunday grins by way of a dormez-vous bieu, Mademoiselles! Poor George ! if I were to direct any man how to be most faithful and most honest, I would advise him to take thee as his mo- del: a grateful master oilers this small tribute to thy me* mory. I must confess I have made tolerably free hitherto with Master Nickem, notwithstanding I had the law of libel before my eyes; but like many men professing heroic feelings, i am heroic when no danger threatens; for who is Nickem? If any man or men choose to stand up and defend him, why then 1 say, "Bucks, have at ye all." Honest men will not: they will say, "Let the galled jade wince, our withers are unwrung." Poor Nickem! some- times, like the never-to-be-forgotten pack of Osbaldeston, with the immortal (would that he was!) Squire at their side, we have rattled thee along at the pace "that kills;" when at others, like the old Southern Bluemottles of Dor- king or Leatherhead notoriety, true to the scent, we have followed thee through many of the doubles thou hast made in any particular chase we have alluded to: but where the shifts of all sorts of game are combined in one, I know not the kind of hound adapted to the sport; so I will not promise a "kill:" all I profess to do is, to give an occa- sional burst: so here goes to "hit him off" again. I have mentioned before that some Repositories have a regular auction once or twice a-week. These at times are like the addenda or appendix to an author's work, when used merely to make out a book at the expense of the reader; when at others, like the codicil to a will, producing greater effect than all the preceding seven skins of parch- ment put together. Also like an outrigger, ugly to look at, but useful when roods run bad. Or like a unicorn team, qwkwnrd to drive, but not to be despised when the 27* 318 - CONVENIENT AUf'TlONS. option would be a heavy-loaded coach and pair. Now to do Nick justice, he is not disposed to be a slow coach: in truth, he goes over some ground rather too fast; and I have been showing some of my readers how to put the "skid" on without hurting their fingers. If they incau- tiously hum them in takmg it off, any little boy, who gets threepence a-week from the coachman for doing it, will teach them better. If I understand the term, " auction," it was originally meant (that must have been before tlie Flood) the putting property up for sale to be really sold to the highest bid- der. I have no doubt but that, if property of any sort was sent for sale in the true spirit of a sale by auction, and pro- per time given to acquaint purchasers of such that it was bond fide to he sold, such property would, in the genera- lity of cases, bring its fair value; but if three or four hunt- ers, however great their merits might be, were sent to be sold even by Mr. Tattersall, if they were iinknoivn horses, of course they would be, figuratively speaking, given away. Why? Not because auctions are bad places to sell horses at, but because hunters are sold for their merits, and of course people will not bid for merits that they do not know exist. But supposing (may it never happen to such men!) that Lords Wilton, Waterford, Maidstone, and many others, were induced to give up hunting, let lliei7^ horses be sent to TattersalPs, they would bring all they were worth (perhaps more:) they would bring their value, be- cause their relative merits as hunters are as well known as those of Dickey Misfortune as a pedestrian, or Euclid, as a race-horse. They often bring more, because men who buy such horses do not merely consider what the horse is worth, but what they choose to give to get him; and when such men thus compete with each other, the price is some- times astounding; and if such horsemen and such riders as I have mentioned and alluded to could be brought to the hammer, the prices they would bring would be a Utile more astounding still. Unquestionably a fair auction is where things are to be sold, and positively sold, to the highest bidder; and if deah'rs in the property on sale could be excluded, this might be done: but while they form a part of those who "who's the dupe?'' 31 «'/, and that makes '^ all the difference." 13ut how can he prevent persons bidding if they are disposed to do so? He certainly could not; but he can make them not disposed to do it. I'he dealers and Nick's friend will not of course do it; persons who do not want the horse won't; so it is only a few, at most three or four, or per- haps only one, that will. These are generally easily got over, for the horse is carefully watched in the stable; so any one looking at him is very soon "made all right" by those employed for the purpose. The man in charge of him sees what is going on quick enough, so he works in FAS EST AB HOSTE DOCERI. 325 the good cause. If any one looks at the horse, he steps up, begs the gentleman " not to take any notice of what he tells him" — (he would be wise if he did not) — but adds, "the pipes won't do for you, sir;" or "the lamps are going;" or any thing he pleases to say: so he f^ets a half-crown for his honesty, and is thought a capital fellow, the gentleman loses it and a good horse into the bargain, being, however, perfectly satisfied that Jem, or Tom, at Nickem's will al- ways give hh/i a hint. Doubtless he will, if he is fool enough to take it: not but that it is good policy in any man who often buys horses at any particular place to give these fellows five or ten shillings if a purchase turns out well, for you then have ten chances in your favour against the n)an who does not: he is sure to get " a dig'" if they can put him in the way of it; you will not, unless it is their better interest to assist you to one; but as, generally speaking, it would not be, your money will be well laid out. Nothing can seem more fair than Nickem's proposing to give a horse the chance of the auction to facilitate his sale; and so it would really be if he gave him a chance; but he will not; for the reason he recommends the sup- posed trial is merely to damp the owner's hopes by letting him see that (say) 25/. was all that was bid for a horse for which lie expects 40/. If the horse belonged to NicU or his friends, he and they would take very good care this should not be the case: they would not put it in any one's power to see or say that only so much was offered for him; nor need this be done, if the agent wishes to do his duty to his employer, for he can try how much is bona fide bid, and if he finds a sum very short of the price asked is only offered, it is quite easy for him to run the horse up to something near the price asked. This really assists the sale, as people will think, if they hear 35/. bid by auction, that 40/. cannot be any great deal more than he is worth. For the auctioneer to do this, it may be said, is contrary to the true spirit of an auction. I know it is: so is people combining to get others' property at less than its fair value. But, if buyers will do what was never contemplated when auctions were first set going, the auctioneer is compelled to fight them at their own weapons: nor is it any blot upon 28 326 NICK RETURNING TO HIS FAMtLY. his character that he fights the good fight for his employer. If he is forced, in some cases, to overstep the strict rule^ laid down for his guidance, in arder to promote fair deal- ing, the fault is not in him, but in those who by their con- duct compel him to do so. But I am now alluding to an honest, honourable man: no fear of Nickem incurring any censure for any one's interest but his own; and though we must not, as a general maxim, say the end justifies the means, a man's motive in an act makes all the difference in the culpability ot justification of it. That in the long run "honesty is the best policy," is an allowed truism? but then " best policy" does not always include making money. Many circumstances may combine to prevent a man doing this in an honourable way; but if he does not make, or if he loses, money, he may preserve his character, self-esteein, and the good wishes and good offices of his friends; and this is "■ best policy," far which he ensures a certain good. Nickem thinks otherwise. The opinion on such subjects depends on the proper or vitiated State of men's minds. Many rogues do make money, it is inie^but not always; and, as it is said in the Rehearsal, " suppose the audience should not laugh," where are you then, friend Nick? The only thing for you is to tuck your coat- tails over your arms, and walk yourself off to your name- sake. You are too known a screw to be sold even- at= your ow^n auction, though the Devil was the auctreneer. I have now given many hints, many opinions, and some instances of what may be and what is done by some men in the horse world. I introduced these subjects, by pledg- ing myself to tell the truth, and nothing but the trirth. I have done so: 1 have, I dare say, mentioned many thing-s th'ai a large proportion of readers "dreamt not of ''' What I have mentioned I know, but I have by na means men- tioned all I know. I have mentioned m'any of tlie mo- tives that influence the actions of a certa-in class of rogoes, and some of the means b}^ which they brfng them about: but I might write for the next twelve months, aifid still leave many unnoticed. I never promised or contemplated making any one a match for a rogue: I might as well at- tempt to teach him to write like Sir Walter Scott. I must go to school again myself, and make much better use of RECOxMMENDING MERIT. 327 my time than I have done, to succeed in either. I have read, and have by heart also, many of the beauties of the one: I have seen and have by heart also many of the ras* calities of the other. 1 may point out to any man still less read than myself, the works of the one for his admira- tion: I may also point out to those who have .^een less of the thing than I have done, what, by arousing their suspi- cions, may assist in saving them from being deceived and victimized by the oilier, as they might have been by such means as I have particularized. This is all 1 have attempted. If we teach a man as many of the indications of an approach- ing storm as may induce him to get under shelter in time, it is enough for him, unless he wishes to become an as- tronomer or natural philosopher: so, if he is told enough of the practices of such fellows as Nickcm to shelter himself, in this case it is enough also; for I presume no man would wish to study rascality. If he does, I am quite as inca- pable as I should be unwilling to be his tutor: in this "the patient must minister to himself." Should he, however, wish to prosecute his studies quite professionally, I shall be happy to point out to him several adepts who can give him that higli finish in roguery, only to be learned under the best masters. Should I have the high honour of meeting any individual wishing thus to finish his education, if the meeting should take place in Oxford Street, or at the Cor- ner (on sale days,) the probability is I may be able to point out one who has been enthusiastic in his pursuit of knowledge in the art of Nickemising, and completed his education on the Continent: permit me to recommend him as a master. Nay, the lad who accompanies him in his gig is quite competent to bring on a young pupil : the mas- ter \\\\\ finisJi him; so he will a customer, if he has much to do with him. I can point out many capable masters, but I love to notice /?«r//c?erfect gentleman. Certes to make the school-pudding, the ingredients are not usually great in number or particularly choice in qualit}^ Though no pupil of Ude or Kitchener, I will venture to give a re- ceipt for a school-pudding: in fact, I could make one. I will afterwards try my hand al a gentleman. In this I may probably fail; bt^t if this dish was produced by some one else, I think 1 coiild form some faint idea of the style of man employed in its concoction. But for the benefit of all or any of those intending to set up a school^ I will give the promised receipt for the pudding (,the alct stagers 336 GRACE (viz. grease) before meat. know it well enough:) — fiour (not of the best quality) in proportion to the number of boys or young ladies (for the latter the quantity somewhat less bad, but not much ;) water tt discretion (of any body;) fruit a discrelion of the mistress (who is always in this most discreet;) suet or any unctuous matter (the produce of last week's cooking) to help down the delicious composition; to be, in forntd me- dici, "taken'' before the meat — {Mem. as a choker to save the latter,) What a blessing of Providence the same hand does not make the leg of mutton ! All that can be done here is to get it tough enough; but young teeth are tough as well as the mutton, and mutton can only be got tough to a certain degree, otherwise the young gentlemen and ladies would come home feather weight " in spite of their teeth.'' On whatever subject 1 venture to write, I always do so from practical experience, the only excuse I can make for writing at all ; so I do in this matter, having paid close upon a hundred a-year for such indulgence in two different schools; in return for which I shall probably pay my respects, but not in the Sporting Magazine, to those finger-posts, to juvenile minds yclept preceptors and pre- ceptresses — Mesbie%irs, Mestla^nes, et Made'moiseUes, au revoir. Let us now see what ingredients we want to make a gentleman. If we ascertain that, we may possibly do a something to alleviate those heart-burnings so often felt on the occasion of races to be ridden by gentlemen, and those by gentlemen-jocks — for 1 really consider the qualification or disqualification of a man to ride where gentlemen only are intended to do so, to be as clear as the difference be- tweea a known half-bred horse and the thorough-bred one — I say known, because we pretty well know that we do not know how half the half-bred ones are bred. I have said it required many rare ingredients to make a gentleman; that is what in every sense of the word must be held as a perfect gentleman^ These ingredients 1 conceive to bcygood family, good ed^ication, good society, good man- ners, and good conduct. These I consider constitute a gen- tleman. If we add to these, polished and winning address, and can-iage,! think we see something like a jye?yec/ gentle- man. That a man may be a gentleman without possessing «' UNHEAL MOCKKUY, HENCL !" 337 all these advantages, or by possessing them in a Very mode- rate degree, we all know, and courtesy allows the title to many such. Personal merit and superior talent very pro- perly in many cases break down the barrier between the m^n of family and the plebeian, and every liberal mind must rejoice in seeing the latter burst those bonds that held his forefathers as serfs to his more aristocratic bre- thren. If, however, fortune only has elevated him (which in a commercial country it may do) to a rank in society to which his most sanguine hopes never aspired, let him remember he owes it to no merit of his own. If superior talents have done this for him, the high attributes of Such a mind should teach him that there are numbers of hi^ fal- low-men in whose bosom lies the germ of all his qualities, but, from its having fallen on a more Sterile soil, wants the means to burst forth: and, above all, let him remember that no men despise the advantages of birth but those who do not possess them ; and that in those who profess to do so, it is at best but a vulgar bravado, a feeble and futile at- tempt to depreciate advantages they cannot enjoy. 1 trust that those who may have so far flattered me as to have read my fugitive thoughts and opinions on various subjects, will give me credit for not intending to venture a treatise on the relative position of the gentleman and the plebeian, but will feel convinced I never attempt any thing like a treatise on any subject: but as in gentlemen- riders and gentlemen-jocks, the term gentleman will be brought in question, it becomes necessary tof nnySelf that my ideas of what a gentleman is should be known, other- wise I should make, at best, but a viatiere embrovilUe of the vvhole. Fortunate will it be for me, if, in treating on so delicate a subject, I escape with no stronger manifes- tation of displeasure. I have said, Tnany or some might think six words would define a plum-pudding; 1 really do think I have shown they would not. Many think a gen- tleman as easily defined; but they would equally find themselves in eVror; for the opinions of the attributes of a gentlemsn varj' in accordance with the Source from which they emanate. Pindar tells us the betiii ideal of one of his heroes of a gentleman w.iS the eating "fat pork and riding on a gate." I once heard a gentlemarr described as 39 33S LIONS. "he who had money, and tha will (o spsnd it.'^ The ha^ nest bluff countryman says, "he's a p;entlcnian that l-.eep.*» his horse, and pays every body their own." The low tradesman thinks the nice young man quite a gentleman who wears showy waistcoats, clothes in the extreme (con- sequently out) of fashion, and pays him. The worthy keeper of an inferior lodging-house holds up ])er lodo;er as a gentleman if he allows her to cater for him, and conse- quently keep her family out of the cribbiiiij^s at his ex- pense. ]Viultifarious and equally erroneous are the opi- nions formed of gentlemen by .inferior people. Erroneous they must be, because the generality of such persons are rarely brought in contact with gentlemen, consequently have no criterion to appreciate them by. The three best judges of a gentlen^ian I should say must be first, gentle- men, who of course judge of others by themselves; next, first-rate trades-people, because in trade they are in the ha- bit o>f s<3fcing their manners- and habits; thirdly, superior servaats, who see gentlemen and gentlewomen (ladies, as inferior persons always call them) throughout the day. A cheesemonger w^ould. consider himself highly offended on being put on a par with a servant. Doubtless he is held in the world's estimation as the most respectable and re- sponsible person — Mem. quaei-e in both cases, but particu- larly in the latter? — but supposing, him to be both, he is not as competent a judge of a gentleman. How should he be? he probably never saw one at table or in a drawing- room in his life (unless he crept up the lamp-pOvSt to get a peep.) The servant iTas- seen the thing daily for years, and could give a tolerable high-life-below-stairs imitation of the manners, and certainly of the habits of his master. Our worthy cbeesemenger would have about as cleap a conception of a gentlemaa mounting the well-lit well-aired stair-case lined vvith exotics of a woman of fashion, as he would have of a crocodile forcing his v/ay through the reedy banks of the Nile. The Egyptian or Ej:iglish ani- mal, placed in the situation of a gentleman, would, I con»- ceive, be about equally out of their element, and on their names being announced would create- a boivt an- eq,ual sensa- tion; doubtless they would be the Ho us of the night. Supposing the sketch I ha\'e so slightly drawn of the GENTLEMEN BY COURTESY. 339 gentleman to be tolerably true to nature, or rather to the receired opinion of society (I mean society compose^l of gentlemen.) I conceive that any man, unless he possesses the most overweening vanity or obtuseness of intellect, can decide for himself how far he does or does not possess the requisites of a gentleman, and by so doing^ave hinTself t'he mortification of repidse when he attempts to step wifhiti that magic circle that encompasses aristocracy. Superior talent and superior worth mTiy cause his being tolerated, nay, invited within its prescribed limits, but neither gives the rii^ht to enter there. These limits are not like those of the rainbow, so softened down that they can hardly be ascertained: but are clear and definite, however much per- sonal vanity may mislead people. Were it otherwise, dis- tinction in society would be lost. This would certainly be one mode of doing away with any disputes as to gen- tlemen, gentlemen-jocks, and regular jocks; but as we have not come to that state yet, we will see whether there is not a better way of settling this oft-disputed matter. Whether I understand the character of gentleman or not, the definition I have given must decide; but that of a jock I certainly can estimate, as he is neither more nor less than a servant regularly engaged to one or more persons to serve him or them, or one ready to be engaged by any one re- quiring his services. The first character I will not pre- sume so far as to say I have defined so as to be beyond contradiction; the latter I certainly have: at all events I think it will be conceded to me that a gentleman is not a professional jock, and equally that the professional jock is not a gentleman. We now come to that anomaly styled gentleman-jock. We might as well say gentleman-dust- man. If some gentleman who could ride a race as wtII as a professional jockey was so reduced in fortune as to be obliged to have recourse to riding for the public as a mean of support, we might very Appropriately style him a gen- tleman-jock, because he would be both a gentleman and a jockey, and perhaps such a character exists; but in a gene- ral sense the term is inappropriate and absurd. If a kind of intermediate character was intended to be specified, I can only say I should consider him a most useless one;' jfo;* he would no|;; by habits, standing in society, or proba- [MO GENTLEMEN BY RIGHT, 1)1}^ manners^ be a fit associate for the gentleman, nor would he, in point of ability, be able to compete with the jockey. To render races to be ridden by gentlemen select, latterly, they are in some cases specified to be ridden by members of such a hunt or hunts, members of such clubs, or officers; this I consider as hardly fair; for a man may be a perfect gentleman, and not come under any of these denomina- tipns: he would therefore be without any good reason ex- cluded. I think we might put the thing in a more tangi- ble and definite position, if races were appointed to be ridr den by gentlemen, yeomen, or jockeys. This would make three clearly different characters of riders,- neither of which pould interfere with the other. I conclude the first inten- tion of races to be ridden by gentlemen was of course as a means of gentlemen running and riding their own horses among themselves, to the very proper exclusion of the professional rider, with whom, of course, in ninety-nine rases out of a hundred, gentlemen would have no chance. Those appointed to be ridden by gentlemen-jockeys were, I suppose, intended to let in a middle class of persons, nei- ther quite gentlemen nor quite jockeys. The instituting amusement for all classes is doubtless both laudable and praiseworthy, be those amusements what they may; and certainly no set of men have a greater right to share in sporting amusements than respectable country yeomen, for on the forbearance, good humour, and good feeling of such men, much of the sporting amusements of the higher orders depend. They are therefore entitled to have every facility given them in enjoying similar entertainment, and races for yeomen-riders would afford this desideratum. There could be no objection to gentlemen riding with the yeo- men, or gentlemen or yeomen riding in the same race witl^ jockeys, if they v^ished it, or fancied themselves equal to the corqpetition; but as a jockey is a definite term, there could be no chance of his being put up to ride with either the gentleman or yeoman: it therefore becomes desirable to prevent the yeoman attempting to ride with gentlemen in gentlcmen''s races. Having attempted to define the latter, let us see how we can define the yeoman, a character that I consider in his relative position in society to be as highly respectable as ^'take any foum rut this." 341 tlic first magnate in the land; perhaps oftentmics a more useful member of that society: but all this does not make him a gentleman, or in a general way a fit associate for one. The day-labourer, who supports his family by the sweat of his brow in a decent manner, is, so far as bare respectabi- lity goes, as respectable an actor on the world's wide stage as the Duke of Devonshire, or any equally exalted charac- ter: but respectability does not make a gentleman: it is a term we do not use as applying to them (1 am sorry to say we sometimes cannot:) we infer that a gentleman is of course respectable, and the saying he was so would be no more a compliment to him than if, in speaking of a vir- tuous woman, we were to say she did not walk the streets or lobbies of Drury Lane Theatre. In some corroboration of this I beg to mention an anec- dote of a friend of mine. He was a man of good family, good education, and some talent. On going to reside for some time in a large provincial town in which he had no acquaintance, he mentioned this circumstance in presence of a person I have named, in the course of what I have written, as holding a prominent situation in the sporting- world as a man of business and high integrity; so his busi- ness-ideas led him to think that in a letter of introduction given to my friend he did his best in describing him as a very respectable man. The letter was open, so my friend of course saw the contents. Many persons'would think he ought to be gratified by such a recommendation ; so far from being so, he flew into a great rage, on reading the ill- fated, or as he considered, ill-worded letter. "Respect- able!" cried he several times over: "respectable, indeed! Was he a gentleman and styled me respectable, I would have him out. Did he suppose I wanted him to tell peo- ple I was not a thief!" I need not say the letter of intro- duction was never delivered. Respectable, so far as it regards tradesmen and yeomen, is as high a term of commendation as can be applied to them; and if they would be content with being respectable, without wishing to be thought (as they term it) genteel, or, in other words, gentlemen, their banker's account would per- haps, often be better filled, and the bankrupt nccount in the Gazette he \ess so: but this craving for a something \\x\- ^9* 343 "A man's a man for a' that." possessed ruins half the world, and is the means of render- ing thousarids as much below respectability as my friend held himself above it. This makes the gentleman-jock want to he a gentleman, and creates a wrangle if refused to ride as such. 1 think 1 need scarcely trouble my readers by a description of the yeoman; by the term yeoman we generally mean to im- ply that most respectable set of men called, in other terms, gentlemen-farniers. Here, a^ain, the term is inappropriate, for it leads to misconstruction. Why, in the name of common sense, is the term gentleman to be tacked on? We never hear of a gentleman-merchant. If the term gentleman-farmer means to irnply a man who farms his own land, or a part of it, then the owner of a two-acre field is a gentleman farmer, and so is the Duke of Bedford: we might as vvell style him and others nobleman-farmers to describe them. They are noblemen who choose to farm their own land, but it would be ludicroqs to style them noble or noblemen-farmers. The gentleman of large land- ed estates, who keeps all or a portion in his own hands, is a gentleman who farm.s those lands; but we should not call the late Mr. Coke, of Norfolk, merely a gentleman-farm- er ; he is, or was, a gentleman — the farmer need not be added: nor to a common farmer, because he happens to own the land, or a part of the land he cultivates, can we appropriately add the term gentleman: he is 2i farmer, and no more. Why can he not be content with so respectable a denomination, without aiming at a title to which he has no pretensions, and in doing which he most probably ren- ders himself ridiculous, and challenges his own mortifica- tion? The gentleman is a gentleman, whether he farms or not; the others are large or small farmers, and not gen- tlemen. When I have mentioned the term yeoman, I have done so because I knovv of no other word that could so effec- tively describe a person as being neither of the lowest class, a prqfessional jock, or a gentleman; but I trust I will put it in the power of any man of common sense to de- cide for himself whether he is entitled to ride in a gentle- man's race or not. We will suppose a race to be ridden by gentlemen in Lord Wilton's park. Let a man wishing to COMING TO THE POINT. 343 ride in that ask himself this simple question : ^' Am I a man thai the noble patron of the races could, without any de- reliction of etiquette, invite to his table to meet his lady and friends? If conscience and common sense say yes, he is fit to ride in such a race: if conscience says no, he has no greater right to feel either hurt or offended in not being allowed to ride as a gentleman, than if refused a seat at the dinner table. It may be said he might fancy himself fit for both situations: if a man is a fool, nobody can make him otherwise, and he must abide the conse- quences: if he is a sensible man, the criterion I have given whereby to estimate his pretensions will suffice. If, from too much or too little modesty, he is in doubt, let him con- sult a gentleman, and he will set him right. If he never rode for hire, he is certainly not professional ; if he is not fit to dine at a nobleman's table, he is not (in every sense) a gentleman. What then is he? a man in the middle ranks of society — a yeoman — till we find a better term to designate hini by; and, consequently, if fond of riding races, may ride vvherever he pleases, but not in races to be ridden by gentlemen only. In noblemen or gentlemen's parks, races to be ridden by Corinthians are all very well, quite in character, and very appropriate amusernents. They may also, of course, add races for farmers, and tenants, yeomanry and cavalry races, and any races they please. Such meetings afford amuse- ment to perhaps thousands, not merely on the day or days, but for months in prospectu, and also in recollection. They do a great deal of good; they shoAV a wish on the part of an influential man to afford amusement to his te- nants, neighbours, and dependents, as well as to his friends; and I glory in seeing a man mount a horse for one of such persons, and, as Lord Howth would, do his best to beat his own friends on farmer Such-a-one's nag. This pro- duces a proper kindred feeling between superiors and their less affluent neighbours, who, if they are worth pleasing, will not presume on such condescension. But to institute races to be ridden by gentlemen on public race-courses, I must consider useless, if not worse; for I cannot see any good that can possibly result from them; but a great deal of bickering, jealousy, and frequently dispute, is all but the 544 "BE THOU FAMILIAR, BUT BY NO MEANS VULGAR.'' sure result. I have heard that the coal-shipping interest is supported so strongly on the consideration that it is a nursery for seamen, a kind of pap-boat institution for our jolly tars. This I doubt not is quite right and judicious; so would it be to have races for gentlemen, if we meant to make the occupation of a professional jock that of a gentle- man; but till this is contemplated, I must consider that private race-courses are the places for races including pri- vate gentlemen only. Races excluding professional riders even on public courses are quite proper; it gives amusement, and gratifies the harmless vanity of many who may wish to be seen in silk, and cannot make this little display of emulation (for I will not call it ostentation) on private courses: but then let such races be open to any rider not professional. If a gentleman wishes to ride in these, he can do so, and there can be no degradation in his doing it: if there was, he must not ride with hounds; for whether a man rides over a country side by side with his inferiors, or whether he rides over a course with them, cannot make any difference as to putting them on an equality after the chase or race is over, nor need either produce any intimacy during their continuance; on the contrary, the bringing the noble or man of birth and fortune in tempo- rary contact with the plebeian must produce a beneficial effect if the conduct and manners of the former are consis- tent with their station in society, for the latter will then see a superiority, and, at the same time, an urbanity of manner, in his superior, that will challenge his respect and goodwill; at least, so it ought to do. I am quite one to deprecate the " toe of the tradesman treading on the heel of the courtier;" but that gentleman must possess little of the tact of one if he suffers the mere riding a race with his inferiors to bring on any improper familiarity. There is among gentlemen an extreme politeness that they know how to bring into play [when wanted,) that keeps the in- ferior in his proper place, without his being able to account for his feeling flattered and kept at a distance by the same conduct: so any fear of the clashing of different classes of society by gentlemen occasionally riding in races with their inferiors, I cannot conceive as likely to occur. I am wilUiig to allow, and have before said, that I con«. *" ROMEO, ROMFO, WHEREFORE ART TIIOU ROMEO?" 345 slder we have A few gentlemen who can ride a race nearly as well as our best professional jocks, and much better than some of th? professionals; but the number of such gentle- nien (from want of practice only) must be very small. In a race among gentlemen I have often seen one or two ride beautifully; but I must say I cannot challenge my memory with ever having seen seven or eight gentlemen ride to- gether where on the whole the race was even tolerably bidden. It is something like a provincial theatrical com- pany, where two or three are equal to better things, the others not equal to any thing. Where I knew every gentleman going to ride, and every horse, I should cer- tainly feel great interest in the race; and, though I should not tell them so, perhaps a great part of that interest would be the seeing how some of them would ride. I think I can give m,y reader a little hint if he ever contemplates a bet where gentlemen ride — "never mind the horse; back the mon^'' — unless the race was between Alice Hawthorn and The Duenna at equal weights: even then, I think, put Lord Howth on The Duenna, 1 could mention some gen- tlemen who would get Alice Hawthorn beat; and yet I have seen such men ride their own horses, and when they coqld, those of their neighbours. As to an}^ gratification in seeing such a man as the latter ride, it must only be similar to that of seeing Romeo Coatcs perform for the amusement of the public. By having races for gentlemen on public courses, we only substitute a bad race for a good one, without producing the end intended, if any thing good was intended by them, namely, affording amusement to those who could not get it elsewhere. I must, therefore, consider that at such places the only different classification of riders required is professional and non-professional. We have no fox-hounds for gentlemen only: why then races? The nobleman and gentleman ride when with hounds with horse-dealers, tradesmen, farmers, butchers, and even a chimney-sweep, and no harm arises from it: if, therefore, they wish to ride on public courses, no more harm or familiarity could arise from riding with the same persons in a race. In either situation they do not ride as companions of such persons: we might as well wish to have one side of the public street set apart for gentlemen. If in 34G CONDESCEND, BUT NEVER DESCEND. riding a race a gentleman preserves the manners and con- duct of one, he need fear no contamination: if he does not so conduct himself, the contamination might be feared by the other part)^, if they do. A gentleman would be no better four-in-hand man from learnin"; the low slang or adopting the manners of a stage-coachman, nor would he be the better rider for adopting the manners of some jock- eys. A gentleman, avoiding the common and most mis- taken idea of some, that it behooves them to be all in all — the coachman or the common jockey, might ride by the side of either all his life, and would find them to touch their hat to him as respectfully afterwards as if he had not done so. If a gentleman never farther derogates from his character than by merely riding (if he would venture to do so) in the same race with professional jockeys, he will do well enough: if he thinks not, then (and perhaps he does wiser) let him ride with his equals only, and in places where his equals do ride. Public race-courses are places for the amusement of the public at large: that public all in some way do a something that supports the races, for they all cause a circulation of money there, consequently have a right to be amused. Now 1 imagine gentlemen in riding there do not contem- plate amusing the public by making Tommy Noodles of themselves; and if they fancy they gratif}^ the public by their fine riding, I will venture to say nine out of ten fail in the latter way, however successful they may be in the former; and I must say I should strongly advise friends (and 1 have no right to advise any other persons) not tQ ride on a public race-course unless they are good enough to ride with public jockeys; otherwise they are only about as welcome an interruption as it would be to have intro- duced between the acts oi Hamlet, where Kemble and Mrs. Siddons were playing, an interlude for amateur actors. I never saw those great actors; but I conceive they would have been good enough for one evening's gratification with.- ouii\\Q other interesting addition. An amateur perform- ance in a nobleman's house is an intellectual and sometimes a gratifying; exhibition; but do not treat us with it at Drury Lane, where we expect to see Macready,Kean,and such per- formers. A gentleman's race is a very pretty thing i^ i(§ A DOCTOR WANTKI). 347 place : it teaches men to ride; and when they can ride, as some men can do, they would ji;ratify the public by show- ing; theiiiselves; but do not pray inflict on us an exhibition of those who cannot, .md whose riding would be a laugh- inj»; matter to every one bui their hurses. If, therefore, in any public race the only distinction be- tween the jocks was professional or non-professional, none of the wrangles as to gentlemen-jocks would arise, and this is all the distinction the public wants or sporting re- quires: at least, submitting, wiih deference to the opinions of others, I conceive it to be so. I am sure of one thing; it would prevent a great deal of ill-feeling. among the sport- ing world, and to promote so desirable a result (or, I siiould rather say, to induce some more influential person to do so,) has been my chief aim in writing the foregoing pages. I in no shape pres-ume so far as to consider" mj'self of import- ance enough to effect this. If I ever get so much credit as to be considered one of the wheels that set the machinery in motion, my utmost hope will have been realized. The gist, therefore, of what I have written \ conceive amounts to this— that races to be ridden by gentlemen are quite proper in their proper place: races to be ridden by any one but a professional jock, equally useful and proper in theirs; and of course (so long as sporting exists) races to be ridden by professional jocks quite necessary to the sporting world: but for the sake af that sporting world, let these several races be defined. If I have not shown that they may be so defined, my time has been thrown away, and tlie patience of my reader taxed to no purpose. 1 have pointed out what I conceive to be injudicious (it requires n€ great abi- lity to do this:) let me hope an abler pen will have influence enough to produce a remedy. I paint oCit the disease, suggest to the best of my abilities what I consider an ano- dyne, but I submit to the physician: if he prescril>es well, few of his brethren will better merit their guinea. We now come to that most strange, most monstrous anomaly, the gentleman's gentleman, a kind of gentleman I should never have mentioned but from the fear, that, un- less some check-rein is put on them, they will not be con- fined to the dressing-room, but we shall be getting a spu- vious sort of them in our stables. We shall have riding 348 "to make a wash would hardly srEW a child.'^ boys wanting Mareschino before they go out to early ex- ercise if the morning happens to be cold; and a Whip sporting his best Havanna and flask of Curagoa by the co- vert side: so we shall then have ge7itlemen-\\hips: a pretty mess we shall then be in. Let us have gentlemen jockey^, and servants, but let us have no gentlemen-jocks or gentlemen's-gentlemen. The term certainly never was applied to servants generally; and when it has been applied to a certain grade of menials, whether it arose from the affectation of some one who wished it to be thought he never let any thing short of a gentleman "come between the wind and their nobility," I know not; but it certainly in any case is a ridiculous term. A man of fortune, of course, requires his linen well aired, the fire in his dressing- room kept up, his clothes laid out ready for use, his dress- ing apparatus at hand, and many minor little offices done for him that others wot not of: but I must think a respect- able man is equal to do this; for we are not to suppose a gentleman wants to be edified by the opinions or Senti- ments of his servants. Perhaps the term originated with some be! esprit among the fraternity, who enjoy the privi- lege of giving an opinion on what combination of cosmetics (according to the moment) may best serve their lordly master's complexion— ''to this complexion we must come at last" — or the term may have had its origin from some man of common sense, who invented it in derision of the common dress, manners, habits of life, contemptible and disgusting arrogance of these gentlemen: but the term has been used, and about as sensibly as that of gentlemen-jocks, be its origin what it niay; and really those habits of indo- lence, impertinence, and expense that formerly were con- fined to these gentlemen's gentlemen, are making infoa^is, ay railroads, in the minds of ordinary servants, and are going on under high pressure too. Show me a' mote in- sufferable insolent imp than' the present "tiger,'' lou^rvging by the side of his master like a woman of ton m her car- riage: still, to be stylish, he must do this. It shotrld seem that some men conceive that the more arrogant their ser- vants are, the more they add to their own iclat, as if they meant to say and let it be thought, that "though the fellow may show impertinence to some poor devil of only a few THE INSOLENCE OP OFFICE. 349 hundreds a-year, he dare not do so to me.^"* No doubt me is a most uncommonly fine fellow; but where he permits his servants or his pet tiger to be insolent to all but him- self and immediate friends, Mr. Tiger should get a sound thrashing for his trouble; and if his conduct was defended, I know somebody else who would well deserve the same at- tention. There can be no doubt that superior persons re- quire superior servants, and of course must give superior wages; but where wages are given to the amount they some- times are, and where idleness and impertinence are permitted to the extent they are, the effect on a common mind is to convert that most useful,A'aluable, and respectable character, a trusty servant^ into a dishonest, insolent jjrofligate. Nor does it end here: not content with being this himself, if he comes in contact with a respectable and valuable ser- vant, the latter is made the butt of the former vagabond and his companions, with Mr. Tiger at their head. Good servants (and there are plenty of them to be had if we get them from the right school) are inestimable treasures, as much so as good friends. We ought to be the friends of such, and consult their real comforts and even feelings much more than I suspect is often done: but the place to consult the feelings of the servants of many of our families of fashion is the carVs tail: such servants are the pest of the public. Show me the servants, I will pretty accurately guess at the habits of the family they serve (I should rather say are employed by.) I remember an anecdote told me of a gentleman's gentle- man who went to be engaged: he was told that when port or cherry was left after dinner in the decanters, it was al- lowed to be used by the superior servants. " Of course, sir!" said he; "and I suppose if a friend comes in, you do not object to the butler drawing something better." — "Why, you impudent scoundrel!" said the gentleman; "my son here, who is a captain in the army, could not ask for more." — " I dare say not, sir," said the fellow; "we pity many of those gentlemen, and often wonder how they get on at all!" I think most persons will agi'ce with me, that if the gentleman had taken such a fellow into his service, (and there are those who would have done so,) he would have been rightly served if he had his house robbed. That 30 350 CHANGE PARTNERS AND POUSSETTE; a vast number are robbed by the connivance of such ser- vants is well known. Idleness and high wages lead such minds to vice; that leads to extra expense; and that to the result I have mentioned. The master in such cases is more to blame than the man. From whom do such women as regularly frequent the lobbies get a great portion of their support? Not merely from shopmen and apprentices, but from gentlemen's upper servants; and if men of fashion were to stoop so low in their amours, they would much bftener than they suppose /o//oic their gentlemen. How different are the servants of a well-regulated noble- man or gentleman's establishment,of which there are many? These get high wages, of course, and well many deserve them. There is an air of respectability in their ct)ndU6t and manner which shows they know their duty, and that they do it: they command your respect by the respect they show where respect is due; and whether in the house, the sta- bles, the kennel, or the garden, whatever is done is well done. Where the conductof the family corresponds with their rank in life, that of the servants will in theirs be upon the same principle: where the master or family are scampish, the servants will be the same; and we may fairly describe those of such a man by saying, half the men are rogues, and half the women something else. If such heads of families knew the inferences drawn from the conduct of their servants, they would be convinced of the very bad taste they exhibit in tolerating the existing insolence of demeanour of their people. Idleness in a servant may be pardoned, because allowed habit may have brought it on; drunkenness may be overlooked, if we have allowed batl example to bring it on: even dishonesty, if rt has arisen from improper temptation having been left in the way; but impertinence in a servant to ani/ one admits of no excuse. I am quite sure even the apparent trifling circumstance of permitting a certain style of dress contributes tawards it. I allow that a servant's hand covered while waiting at table may be more congenial to aristocratic eyes than one bare; but surely white kid gloves at 3.9. 6f/., which can only be worn a very few times, might (with a servant) be re- placed by cotton ones: and surely stockings of the same material would answer the purpose of silk! Plaster yoir? BRINGING THEM OUT IN RIGHT FORM. 351 v«?ervant all over with worsted, silver, or gold lace, if such is the taste of the master, and his wish to show gorgeous and expensive liveries; hut what is worn by the guest I cannot but consider improper for the servants. Give him stockings of silk, if you please, at a guinea a pair, but let them be something like those of the livery of the late Duke of St. Alban's (if I remember right,) black with yel- low clocks. This is the badge of servitude, and soine badge of that sort servants should wear. But then what would become of gentlemen's gentlemen? why, they would be in the same place where gentlemen-jocks, in racing phrase, should be, nowhere; and a very good place too for them, though a very bad one for a promising Derby colt. But gentlemen's gentlemen are generally cattle of no pro- mise: I wish I had the handicapping them. Though I might seriously diminish the weight of their self-estimation, I promise them they should not carry a feather over the course they have hitherto run, I would bring them out fit to go, but without quite as much "waste and spare" on them. I would attend to their health, I warrant me. I would also attend to all their proper comforts and happi- ness; but they should not become catfish and tricky. Let us have gentlemen : let us have yeomen, plebeians, or the middle classes (by whichever or whatever name you choose to describe them :) let us have jockeys, and servants; but let the line of demarcation between the grades not be done (in stationer's phrase) in faint lines, but in a good honest, broad, black one. The higher grades would not then (as they now are to a certain extent) be compelled to treat the lower with unbecoming hauteur, from a fear of a too near approximation; nor the lower grades be perpetually struggling to attain that unattainable (and to them unnecessary) title, ''gentleman:' By each adhering to his proper station, each would receive the pro- per respect due to that station. Let us therefore still have races to be ridden by gentle- men, races to be ridden by farmers, yeomanry, and of course, as usual, races to be ridden by jockeys; but in lieu pf races for gentlemen-^ooks, let us substitute races for such horses, at such and such weights, jockeys or hired servants excluded This would be all that I conceive 352 A CONCLUSION- could be meant or wanted; and doing away with the term genlleman-jock (which must ever be an equivocal one,) would admit any man not hired or professional, and, what is much more desirable, would not admit disputes about qualification, as the qualification in this case would be clear and defined. Let us then hope to see gentlemen's gentlemen turned into servants: gentlemen-jocks may be turned to grass; but as they are a kind of mongrel breed, let them first un- dergo a little operation to prevent their producing fresh stock. I think then, coachmen having left ofi* aping the gentlemen, we may say "all right." 353 IL FAUT QU^IL L'APPRENNE DONC. AN ANECDOTE. Whoever has travelled the route from Calais to Dun- kerque, must allow, if his commendations are as vera- cious as thos3 bestowed by Sterne on the Pont Neuf, that it is the most delightful, cheerful, romantic, sylvan scene, that traveller in search of the picturesque could wish, or poetic imagination conceive. It is delightful, inasmuch as you are exposed to the full glare of a meridian sun in sum- mer, and enjoy the full benefit of a north-east wind in winter. It is romantic, being a dead flat all the way; sylvan, from not the vestige of a tree meeting the eye for twenty-five miles out of the thirty ; and cheerful, from the anticipation of meeting, if you go at the proper hour, a donkey with his driver, a charrette, and the diligence. But unless we start at particular hours, the or a donkey and a charrette will be about the maximum of fellow-wayfarers to be expected. It fell, however, to my lot on two occa- sions to have the weary monotony of this route broken into by incidents that would have proved expensive ones, had I not contrived to reimburse myself by means that, though they come before us in rather a questionable shape, were, I hold, justifiable, on the "lex talionis" principle. Driving along this road of blessed memory, a French carrier considerately conceded to my use a portion of the road just one foot less than the width of my axletree. The consequence of the collision was the compressing my gig into the smallest possible compass, just as we do a camp stool, the difference being that the stool can be opened again at pleasure, whereas I paid Tilbury twenty pounds to bring the gig again into proper form and dimension. On applying to the very improperly called proper au- thorities, also of blessed memorij, for redress, I was told^ 30* 354 CHAQUE PAYvS, CHAQUE MODE. that mine being the lighter vehicle I should have got out of the way, and that I might think myself most leniently dealt with if Monsieur le Charrettier did not punish me for having assaulted him. I did not deny I had given the fellow a punch or two on the head, and a straight one in his sto- mach; on receiving which last visitation he bellowed as if I was going to murder him, and incontinently took to his heels, or rather his cart, and then set his dog at me. As he rose at me I gave him also a straight one in his throat, when, like his master, he bolted. All this was fact. An Englishman in the Frenchman's place would have been ashamed to have allowed it was so, and I think an English magistrate would have been a little ashmed had he made the decision of Monsieur le . Now I must most candidly confess, that though in a general way I like France and French people, and more particularly French cuisine, I did on this occasion, even in court, most energetically d French law, and most par- ticularly and especially this particular and especial French . I suppose all this was considered as either plead- ing my own cause, or held as complimenting the Court on its lenity, for I was requested to repeat it in French. This I was preparing to do, with embellishments, but my avocat very wisely advised me to hold my tongue, and said I was only stating I did not understand French law: this was quite satisfactory, so, I suppose, in lieu of damages, I got this piece of advice from the bench — " II faut qu'il Papprenne done." 1 thought this hint was quite superfluous, my first lesson having completely enlightened me on the subject. My next appearance before the most worthy showed how little I had profited by his advice, or I should not have troubled him again ; but 1 did, and my present case was this: — Riding one evening after dark along the' same de- lectable road, on a favourite English horse, down he dropped as if he had been shot, sending me over his ears en avant- courrier. This mishap had arisen from my (Englishman- like) taking the side of the pave in preference to the mid- dle of the route. A drain had been left open of about two feet deep, into which my horse had gone. He was up in a moment; I remounted, and what I said about French high roads was had enough then^ but when I examined m\ «A HORSE, A HORSE, MY KINGDOM FOR A HORSE." 355 horse's knees by the first light I came to, and found two concavities made in them something the size of a teacup, I fear what I said was ten times worse. I really now thought, that from this trap having been left open, and, holding myself a loser of about thirty pounds each knee, some redress would be afforded me. I found, however, that redress, something like promotion reward of services, was likely to be some time in coming, for I was first told I had no business riding where I did; and secondly, from whom was the redress to come? Before this could be got at, it was necessary to find who made the drain, and it be- hooved me to find that out. ^'Did Monsieur know who it was?" Of course Monsieur did not. I saw my chance was out, but to render assurance doubly sure, out came again the infernal ^'Ilfaut quHl V apprenm doncy The prayers of the wicked are sometimes heard; I prayed for a chance to return all favours to Monsieur le , and it came. I learned that his lady had taken a mania for riding en Amazon, and that her lord and master would give any price for a perfectly broke English horse accustomed to carry a lady. Just before I left England a ver)^ beautiful horse that had been carrying a friend of my wife's had unfortunately gone badly broken-winded, so much so as to be useless. I started my groom off for this said horse, and he brought him back in blooming condition, and looking worth as any lady's horse could be, and only six years old. I got the daughter of a friend of mine, a girl nine years of age, to ride him about the town, taking care he should be seen by the lady and her good lord. The beauty and docility of the horse in carrying a mere child, could not be resisted, so a note arrived filled with apologies for asking if I would sell "le beau cheval," in which case I was begged to name a price, and to pass my word that he was as docile as he appeared. Monsieur would only ask leave for a friend to look at him in the stable, who would bring the ^'argent comptant.'" I replied by saying I would sell the horse, that on my honour he was " doux comme un agnenu," a hundred and fifty napoleons his price, and that Monsieur's 356 "the knight he sat erect and fair." friend was quite welcome to see him, assuring Monsieur " de ma parfaite consideration," &c. &c. Yes, thinks I to myself, you are welcome to ma parfaite consideration, but I suspect you will not get much consideration for your hun- dred and fifty. I have the " Ilfaut qu^il Papprenne'' fresh in my memory — chacun a son tour ! 1 have not spent so much money about horses without being able to make a broken-winded one fit to be examined by your friend. The "05W2 " came; the ^.^ valet (Pecurie " came; the sad- dle and bridle (such a saddle, a kind of "demipique" re- suscitated) the bridle half red velvet and silver buckles, came — no matter; the money came. Out of kindness to the horse, I desired the French groom not to give him any cold water that day. Those initiated in such matters will know why; the groom did not. // faut qxCil VapprcnnCj thinks I. The groom mounted, rode off "en dragon," stiff as a poker, Monsieur I'ami walking by his side, and, as I saw. Frenchman-like, stopping ten times in the street to show le beau cheval to some friend. Tout h Vlieure, tout h Vheure, thought I. The next evening Vanii waited on me, begging I would go with him to look at the horse. " Volentiers, Mon- sieur,''^ and away we went. I found him of course blow- ing away like a blacksmith's bellows. What was de mat- tere? vasde horse indispose. "Eh, non; Monsieur says z7 e^^ poiissif; voila toui.^'* '^ Poussif, poiissif!^^ cried Mon- sieur le . Sacre ! do I hear you right? you say de hors. is what you call broke in de vind,— do I hear dat?" — "Yes," said I, "you do;" and thinks I to myself, Madame will hear it too occasionally if she rides hirn. Monsieur assured me he had no idea of the horse being so when he bought it. 1 freely expressed my conviction that this was correct. Vat vas he to do? " Ce n'est pas mon affaire cela,''^ said 1. Doubtless my reader has seen two Frenchmen in a pas- sion; but two most passionate ones in a regular white-heat rage is really a treat. Now, says I, for the coup-de-thea- tre. 1 reminded Monsieur of the broken gig and broken Jinee decisions ; he recognised me in a moment. " No^^% Monsieur," says I, " what have you got to say ? You want- ON A BIEN DES CHOSES d'APPRENDRE. 357 ed un beau cheval, — you have him ; you wanted a docile one, — you have that also ; I said nothing about his being sound: you have no fault to find with me." — " Mais mil U ionneres ! I no vant de hors broke in de vind, dat go puff puff all de day long." — " Cest possible,''^ says I, " mais cela rri'est parfaitement indifferent. You trusted to your friend's judgment.^' — "Bote my friend have no judgment for de hors." — "// faut, Monsieur^ said 1, making my bow, " qu'il Vapprenne doncJ^ THE END. PUBLISHED BY LEA AND BLANCIIARD. MISS ACTON'S COOKERY. MODERN COOKERY IN ALL ITS BRANCHES, reduced to a System of Easy Practice, for the use of Private Families. In a Seriea of Practical Receipts, all of which are given with the most minute exactness. By Eliza Acton. With numerous Wood-cut Illustrations. To which is added, a Table of Weights and Measures. The whole revised and prepared for American Housekeepers, by Mrs. Sarah J. Hale, from the second London edition. In one large 12mo. volume. The publishers beg to present a few of the testinionials of the English press in favour of this work. "Miss Eliza Acton may congratulate herself on having composed a work of great utility, and one that is speedily finding its way to every 'dresser' in the kingdom. Her Cookery-book is unquestionably the most valuable compendium of the art that has yet been published. It strongly inculcates economical principles, and points out how good things may be concocted without that reckless extravagance which good cooks have been wont to imagine the best evi- dence they can give of skill in their profession.'.' — London Morning Post. " The arrangement adopted by Miss Acton is e.xcellent. She has trusted nothing to others. She has proved all she has written by personal inspection and experiment. The novel feature of her book, which will greatly facilitate the labours of the kitchen, is the summary appended to each recipe of the materials which it contains, with the exact proportion of every ingredient and the precise time required to dress the whole." — London Atlas. "Aware of our own incompetency to pronounce upon the claims of this volume to the cotifi dence of those most interested in its contents, we submitted it to more than one professor of the art of cookery. The report made to ua is more than favourable. We are assured that Mi-^s Acton's instructions may be safely followed ; her receipts are distinguished for exccllenne. The dishes prepared according to Miss Acton's directions — all of which, she tells us, have been tested and approved — will give satisfaction by their delicacy, and will be found economical in price as well as delicious in flavour. With such attestations to its superior worth, there is no doubt that the volume will be purchased and consulted by the domestic authorities of eveiy family in which good cookery, combined with risjid economy, is an object of interest." — Olobe. " We have subjected this book to the severe test of practice, and we readily concede to it the merit of being a most useful auxiliary to the presiding genius of the cuisine. The instructions it gives in all that relates to culinary affairs are comprehensive, judicious, and completely divested of old-fashioned twaddle. It contains, besides.- some novel features, calculated to facili- tate the labours of cookery ; the principal of those is the summary appended to each receipt of the exact quantities of the ingredients it contains, and the precise time required to dross tiio dish. To the practical woman who seeks to combine comfort with economy in the direction of her household concerns, this book will prove an invaluable treasure." — Sunday Times. " We cannot, therefore, too warmly recommend to the notice of our junior brethren this conr pilation of Eliza Acton's, which will prove as useful to young Mrs. and her cook in the kitchen', as Thomson's Dispensatory or Conspectus to the young doctor in the library." — Modlcif-Ckirnf- gical Review. " Mistress Acton writes well, to the point, and like a woman of sterling sense; her preface ou«lii to be printed on a broadside, and taught to all the young ladies at' all the boardihg"- schools, and all the day-schools, whether boarding or not, in England. "The whole of Miss Acton's receipts, with a few trifling exceptions, which are scrupu- lously specified, 'are confined to such as may bo perfectly depended on from having been proved beneath our own roof, and under our personal inspection.' We add, moieovc-r, that the receipts are all reasonable, and never in any instance extravagant. They do not bid us >>4cri- fice ten pounds of e.vcellenl meat that we may get a couplcofquar'ts of gravy from it; nor do they deal with butter and eggs as if they cost nothing. Miss Acton's book is a tjood book io evety way; there is right-mindedness in every tJaH of It, as well as thorough knowledge of the Bub^ ject |be handles. "~Z,onSEOLOGY. &.C. BY PROF. JAMESON. I ZOOLOGY, &c. BY W. SWAINSON ILLUSTRATED BY EIGHTY-T WO MLAPS, ^ntt about Elebcn 5B|un^retr otl)ct Hngrabfufls oti 552Foo^ Representing the most remarkable objects of Nature and Art in every region of the Globe ; TOGETHER WITH A MAP OF THE UNITED STATES, Drawn by Drayton, from Tanner's Map. and Engraved on Copper, in which is embodied the latest information relating to the Internal Improvements of this country. REVISED, CORRECTED, AND BROUGHT DOWN TO THE PRESENT PERIOD, AND THE PORTION RELATINO TO THE UNITED STATES WRITTEN ANBW, BY T. G. BRADFORD, In Three handsome Royal Octavo Yolumes, various bindings* Persons can be supplied by sending their names to the Publishers, or the general Agent, G. W. GORTON PHILADELPHIA. :^^9« NOW PUBLISHING, ws^Sj Pi ENCYCLOPAEDIA AMERICANA, A NEW EDITION. A POPULAR DICTIONARY OF ARTS, SCIENCES, LITERATURE, HISTORY, POLITICS AND BIOGRAPHY, INCLUDING A COPIOUS COLLECTION OF ORIGINAL ARTICLES IN AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY. ON THE BASIS OP THE SEVENTH EDITION OF THE GERMAN CONVERSATIONS-LEXICON. EDITED BT FRANCIS LIEBER, ASSISTED BY R WIGGLESWORTH AND T. G. BRADFORD. PHILADELPHIA: LEA AND BLANCHARD. 1843. ^^^ IN THIRTEEN VOLUMES. ^:^fi PUBLISHED BY LEA AND BLANCHARD. MISS ACTON'S COOKERY. MODERN COOKERY IN ALL ITS BRANCHES, reduced to a System of Easy Practice, for the use of Private Families. In a Series of Practical Receipts, all of which are given with the most minute exactness. By Eliza Acton. With numerous Wood-cut Illustrations, To which is added, a Table of Weights and Measures. The whole revised and prepared for American Housekeepers, by Mrs. Sarah J. Hale, from the second London edition. In one large 12rao. volume. The publishers beg to present a few of the testimonials of the English press in favour of this work. " Miss Eliza Acton may congratulate herself on having composed a work of great utility, and one that is speedily finding its way to every 'dresser' in the kingdom. Her Cookery-book ia unquestionably the most valuable compendium of tlie art that has yet been published. It Btrongly inculcates economical principlcB, and points out how good things may be concocted without that reckless extravagance which good cooks have been wont to imagine the best evi- dence they can give of skill in their profession." — London Morning Post. " The arrangement adopted by Miss Acton is excellent. She has trusted nothing to others. She has proved all she has written by personal inspection and experiment' The novel feature of her book, which will greatly facilitate the labours of the kitchen, is the summary appended to each recipe of the materials which it contains, with the exact proportion of every ingredieot* and the precise time required to dress the whole." — London Atlas. " Aware of our own incompetency to pronounce upon the claims of this volume to the confi- dence of those most interested in its contents, we submitted it to more than one professor of the art of cookery. The report made to us is more than favourable. We are assured that Misa Acton's instructions may be safely followed ^ her receipts are distinguished fur excellence. The dishes prepared according to Miss Acton's directions — all of which, she tells us, have been tested and approved — will give satisfaction by their delicacy, and will be found economical in price as well as delicious in flavour. With such attestations to its superior worth, there is no doubt that the volume wiU be purchased and consulted by the domestic authorities of every family in which good cookery, combined with rigid economy, is an object of interest." — Olobt. " We have subjected this book to the severe test of practice, and we readily concede to it the merit of being a most useful auxiliary to the presiding genius of the cuisine. The instructions it gives in all that relates to culinary affairs are comprehensive, judicious, and completely divested of old-fashioned twaddle. It contains, besides, some novel features, calculated to facili> tate the labours of cookery ; the principal of these is the summary appended to each receipt of the exact quantities of the ingredients it contains, and the precise time required to dress the dish. To the practical woman who seeks to combine comfort with economy in the direction of her household concerns, this book will prove an invaluable treasure." — Sunday Times. " We cannot, therefore, too warmly recommend to the notice of our junior brethren this com- pilation of Eliza Acton's, which will prove as useful to young Mrs. and her cook in the kitchen. «s Thomson's Dispensatory or Conspectos to the young doctor in the library." — Medico- Chirur' eical Review. " Mistress Acton writes well, to the point, and like a woman of sterling sense ; her preface ought to be printed on a broadside, and taught to all the young ladie« at all the boarding-schools, and all the day-schools, whether boarding or not. in England. " The whole of Miss Acton's receipts, with a few trifling exceptions, which are scrupu- lously specified, ' are confined to such as may be perfectly depended on from having been proved beneath our own roof, and under our personal inspection.' We add, moreover, that the receipts are all reasonable, and never in any instance extravagant. They do not bid us «acrt- fice ten pounds of excellent meat that we may get a coupleof quarts of gravy from it; nor du they deal with butter and eggs as if they cost nothing. Miss Acton's book is a good book in every way ; there is right-mindedness in every page of it, as well as thorough knowledge of the tub* ject she handles."— I appeared. The style in which it is ' got up' I does credit to the enterprising publishers."— JVew " The Elements of Universal History" is en- < World. titled to great praise ; the writer has taken firm < __^— . (rasp of his subject : he exhibits a just estimate of < " We were induced, by several noticoB of this PUBLISHED BY LEA AND BLANCHARD, Now ready, in One Volume 8i?o. with Illustrations, THE HORSE, BY WILLIAM YOUATT. A NEW EDITION, WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS; CONTAINING A FULL ACCOUNT OF THE DISEASES OF THE HORSE, WITH THEIR MODE OF TREATMENT; HIS ANATOMY, AND THE USUAL OPERATIONS PERFORMED ON HIM; HIS BREEDING. BREAKING. AND MANAGEMENT; AND HINTS ON HIS SOUNDNESS, AND THE PURCHASE AND SALE. TOGETHER WITH A GENERx\L HISTORY OF THE HOESE; A DISSERT AT ION ON THE AMERICAN TROTTING HORSE, HOW TRAINED AND JOCKEYED, AN ACCOUNT OF HIS REMARKABLE PERFORMANCES; AND AN ESSAY ON THE ASS AND THE MULE, BY J. S. SKINNER, Assistant Post Master Greneral, and Editor of the Turf Register. PHILAD ELPHIA: LEA AND BLANCHARD. 1844. REPUBLISHED FROM THE NEW EDITION JUST ISSUED IN LONDON, BY THE SOCIETY FOR DIFFUSING USEFUL KNOWLEDGE. PHILADELPHIA, EVERY MAN HIS OWN CATTLE DOCTOR: CONTAINING THE CAUSES, SYMPTOMS, AND TREATMENT OF ALL THE DISEASES INCIDENT TO OXEN, SHEET, A^^D SWINE; AND A SKETCH OF THE ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY OP NEAT CATTLE. BY FRANCIS CLATRR. EDITED, REVISED, AND ALMOST REWRITTEN, BY WILLIAM YOUATT, AUTHOK Of "THE HORSE," Si, C . WITH NUMEROUS ADDITIONS, EMBRACINQ AN ESSAY ON THE USE OF OXEN, AND THE IMPROVEMENT IN THE BREED OF SHEEP, &c BY J. S. SKINNER, ASSISTANT POSTMASTJIR GENERAL. WITH NUMEROUS CUTS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. PHILADELPHIA: LEA AND BLANC HARD. 1844. ANEW MEDICAL DICTIONARY. In one volume, large 12mo., now ready, at a low price* A DICTIONARY OF TERMS USED IN MEDICINE AND THE COLLATERAL SCIENCES; BY RICHARD D. HOBLYN, A.M., OXON. FIRST AMERICAN, FROM THE SECOND LONDON EDITION. REVISED, WITH NUMEROUS ADDITIONS, BY ISAAC HAYS, M.D., EDITOR OF THE AMERICAN JOURNAL OF THE MEDICAL SCIENCES, OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. "We hardly remember lo have seen so much valuable matter condensed into such a small compass as this little volume presents. The first edition was published in 1835, and the present .nay be said to be almost rewritten, introducing the most recent terms on each subject. The lliymology, Greek, Latin, &.C., is carefully attended to, and the explanations arc clear and precise; " We cannot too strongly recommend this small and cheap volume to the library of every stu- dent and every practitioner." — Medico- Chirurgical Review. 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