When I was a member of the Meadowbrook hunt,most of the meets were held within a dozen miles or so of the kennels;at Farmingdale,Woodbury,Wheatly,Locust Valley,Syosset,or near any one of twenty other queer,quaint old Long Island hamlets.They were almost always held in the afternoon,the business men who had come down from the city jogging over behind the hounds to the appointed place,where they were met by the men who had ridden over direct from their country-houses.If the meet was an important one,there might be a crowd of onlookers in every kind of trap,from a four-in-hand drag to a spider-wheeled buggy drawn by a pair of long-tailed trotters,the money value of which many times surpassed that of the two best hunters in the whole field.Now and then a breakfast would be given the hunt at some country-house,when the whole day was devoted to the sport;perhaps after wild foxes in the morning,with a drag in the afternoon.
After one meet,at Sagamore Hill,I had the curiosity to go on foot over the course we had taken,measuring the jumps;for it is very difficult to form a good estimate of a fence's height when in the field,and five feet of timber seems a much easier thing to take when sitting around the fire after dinner than it does when actually faced while the hounds are running.On the particular hunt in question we ran about ten miles,at a rattling pace,with only two checks,crossing somewhat more than sixty fences,most of them post-and-rails,stiff as steel,the others being of the kind called "Virginia"or snake,and not more than ten or a dozen in the whole lot under four feet in height.The highest measured five feet and half an inch,two others were four feet eleven,and nearly a third of the number averaged about four and a half.There were also several rather awkward doubles.When the hounds were cast off some forty riders were present,but the first fence was a savage one,and stopped all who did not mean genuine hard going.Twenty-six horses crossed it,one of them ridden by a lady.A mile or so farther on,before there had been a chance for much tailing,we came to a five-bar gate,out of a road--a jump of just four feet five inches from the take-off.Up to this,of course,we went one at a time,at a trot or hand-gallop,and twenty-five horses cleared it in succession without a single refusal and with but one mistake.Owing to the severity of the pace,combined with the average height of the timber (although no one fence was of phenomenally noteworthy proportions),a good many falls took place,resulting in an unusually large percentage of accidents.The master partly dislocated one knee,another man broke two ribs,and another--the present writer--broke his arm.However,almost all of us managed to struggle through to the end in time to see the death.
On this occasion I owed my broken arm to the fact that my horse,a solemn animal originally taken out of a buggy,though a very clever fencer,was too coarse to gallop alongside the blooded beasts against which he was pitted.But he was so easy in his gaits,and so quiet,being ridden with only a snaffle,that there was no difficulty in following to the end of the run.I had divers adventures on this horse.Once I tried a pair of so-called "safety"stirrups,which speedily fell out,and I had to ride through the run without any,at the cost of several tumbles.Much the best hunter I ever owned was a sorrel horse named Sagamore.He was from Geneseo,was fast,a remarkably good jumper,of great endurance,as quick on his feet as a cat,and with a dauntless heart.He never gave me a fall,and generally enabled me to see all the run.
It would be very unfair to think the sport especially dangerous on account of the occasional accidents that happen.A man who is fond of riding,but who sets a good deal of value,either for the sake of himself,his family,or his business,upon his neck and limbs,can hunt with much safety if he gets a quiet horse,a safe fencer,and does not try to stay in the front rank.Most accidents occur to men on green or wild horses,or else to those who keep in front only at the expense of pumping their mounts;and a fall with a done-out beast is always peculiarly disagreeable.Most falls,however,do no harm whatever to either horse or rider,and after they have picked themselves up and shaken themselves,the couple ought to be able to go on just as well as ever.Of course a man who wishes to keep in the first flight must expect to face a certain number of tumbles;but even he will probably not be hurt at all,and he can avoid many a mishap by easing up his horse whenever he can--that is,by always taking a gap when possible,going at the lowest panel of every fence,and not calling on his animal for all there is in him unless it cannot possibly be avoided.It must be remembered that hard riding is a very different thing from good riding;though a good rider to hounds must also at times ride hard.
Cross-country riding in the rough is not a difficult thing to learn;always provided the would-be learner is gifted with or has acquired a fairly stout heart,for a constitutionally timid person is out of place in the hunting field.A really finished cross-country rider,a man who combines hand and seat,heart and head,is of course rare;the standard is too high for most of us to hope to reach.But it is comparatively easy to acquire a light hand and a capacity to sit fairly well down in the saddle;and when a man has once got these,he will find no especial difficulty in following the hounds on a trained hunter.
