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in the stable physicking and getting into condition, will be-say £14 or £15; Vet.'s bill (medicine, keep, and firing), we will say £12. Here we get £27. Well the owner may say-and, I will answer for it, does say-it is a good deal of trouble and money; but he is a very valuable horse, so it must be done. As probably neither the vet. nor friend may know the qualifications of the animal, they cannot contradict the assertion as to his value, nor is it their business to inquire into the matter; but there is one thing by no means improbable in such a case, which is that they not only do not know his value or merits, but cannot for the life of them see either.

Now let us look into the fact of this horse really being, as represented "very valuable;" my life on it the great reason the owner has for asserting that he is so is that he gave a great deal of money for him. Well he comes up, realising all that was promised, perfectly sound, but perhaps a good deal scarred, if the remedy was effectually applied. The owner not liking the look of this, or for some reason, wishes to sell him; now "pussy jumps out of the bag"-£40 is all he can get for him, as a blemished horse. He will now be sure to find fault with the vet. or his friend, or both, for advising him to take all the trouble and expense, and then to find his horse only worth £40. Here is just shown the difference between his really being a valuable horse or merely one for which a considerable sum had been paid. The friend and the vet., of course, took the owner's word as to his value; and supposing what they were told could be borne out, their advice therefore was judicious, for £27 would be very little consideration in getting a really valuable horse upright; and such horses as have gone under Sir Bellingham Graham, Lord Plymouth, or Forester, would not be brought down to quite £40, because their legs were a little disfigured. But such horses are really of known value; the value of the one in question probably only consisted in the price paid for him. Supposing, on being accused of having given interested or injudicious advice, the vet. or the friend-beginning to suspect how the thing stood-should take the liberty of asking in what the value of the horse consisted, and found out the truth, it is by no means improbable they might say," Hearing you say he was a valuable horse, judging only by what we could see, we of course thought he was one of known character and qualifications ;' and then they come down with the stunner, "Why, my good sir, he was never worth more than about £50 before he was lame.

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Here, it is true, in one particular the owner acted as I recommend; he took the advice of even two experienced men. He did so; but he must recollect that he acted on his own judgment first, by telling them he was shewing a valuable horse. They therefore recommended what was judicious to do with such a one, but not, perhaps, what was advisable to do with the one in question. Probably, had they been allowed to form their own estimate of his value, they might have thought, and perhaps have said, they did not think he was worth a heavy expense, and would have recommended a few days' rest, and putting him up for sale when they might estimate him about the £40. The owner would probably think them rogues, fools, or mad, to thus undervalue his hundred-guinea nag; I would, however, back such men to be pretty near the mark, notwithstanding this.

It is a common idea that an owner is the best judge of the value of

his own horse. If the words "to him" were added, there would be much truth in it; but without these two additional words, I beg leave to give it as an opinion that a very considerable number of owners know nothing at all about the value of their horse. Selling, or making the attempt to sell, will tell them the truth; buying does not even afford a hint on the subject.

Now, let us take the thing in a diametrically opposite point of view, and we shall see where the owner is the best judge of his horse.

We will suppose a man has more hunters than he wants, and wishes to diminish the number; of course his wish would be to sell those that he, for some reason or other, liked the least; but rather than keep them all, he determines to sell any (say) three of them-a sensible resolve enough if a man is not one of great wealth, and happens to be one of those who are tolerable hands at making hunters. The man of wealth has no occasion to part with anything that he likes. The man who is not a horseman and judge of horses never should part with one that carries him to his satisfaction : the man who is always should, if he gets his price; for, only give him spring, speed, and stamina, he can make a hunter as a carpenter can make a table if he gets the proper wood. We suppose the person wanting to sell to be one of these, and a gentleman looking at his horses who is one of the sort who could eat his dinner very well on the table when made; but if the table was wanting, so far as his own ability of making one goes ; would be reduced to taking his soup on his knees. He may be a very clever man, probably more so than the other, but not a carpenter (of hunters).

On looking at the supposed horses on sale our buyer sees a goodlooking brown horse, about his cut as to size and strength-asks his character. The owner, as a gentleman, gives a true one.

"He is a very fair horse indeed, an excellent hunter in any country but one like mine, a remarkably fine fencer, and very handy, but not so fast as I could wish here; his price-£150."

Our buyer candidly says that, only hunting occasionally, he does not wish to give quite so much.

In the next stall he sees a particularly splendid grey, who looks a fortune : he looks at him, but modestly says

"I am afraid I need not ask any questions about him; he is beyond my mark."

"Yes you may," replies the owner, good-naturedly smiling, "so far as price goes; I ask £100 for him. I tell you fairly he is one of the few horses I have had that I could not make a hunter of. He cannot live a distance with hounds if the pace is good; and he is so nervous, that he becomes quite confused where the fences are big. He would be a delightful horse with harriers; but as Elmore is coming to look at my horses, he will buy him for harness."

A stall or two off, he sees a plain large bay horse, with rather a large, long head, a little low in the crest, with wide, bony, and somewhat ragged hips, a meanish tail, and, moreover, not seeming particularly amiable as to temper in the stable. Our buyer does not much relish the looks, but wishing to be well carried, and at a lowish figure, he says

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Would that horse carry me?"

He here observes a certain laconic side-smile on the countenance of the groom-a kind of smile as if in anticipation of something to smile at. "I have no hesitation in saying," replied the owner, "he can carry you or any other man in any country and with any hounds."

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"Now," said the owner, "if you would permit me to point out a horse to you, I think I can put one into your hands that would suit you in all respects; it is this chesnut. I took him in exchange from a friend of mine. He has three failings, neither of which, I should say, would be objectionable to you in the country where you hunt. He is particularly pleasant to ride, very safe, and handy at fences, goes a fair pace, and will go on till nightfall. But, like the brown horse, is not as fast as I like them here, and he does not like wide water; independent of which, he is a size less than I usually have them. I should say in Surrey he would be perfect; and I will take £100."

There is a certain feeling of vanity in man that is not confined to the breast, which is generally pointed out as its locality, but runs, like the nerves, over every part and particle of the body; so, touch it where you will, like the string of a harp touched by the scientific finger of a master whose intent is to produce harmony, it "discourses most eloquent music;" but, when the careless and rude finger of truth is applied, it often gives back a twang that seems to jar to the very pedals.

The description of the horse seemed to bode his suiting our buyer; but the not being objectionable to him and his country seemed to carry with it something bordering on a latent hint at inferiority that he winced at. He felt the truth of the thing, would have owned it to himself, but to have it, as it were, forced on him by another, though done without any intentional offence, made it no more palatable than Pistol found the leek, or the persuasions that induced him to swallow it. He even thought of dashing at the four-hundredpounder at once; but, as he was a man of sense, the thought merely flitted across his brain, so he compounded with good sense, good manners, and a little mortification, by asking if he might take the liberty of sending a brother-sportsman to look at the little horse, and to ride him. Both permissions being granted, he took his leave; and next day the friend came. He and the seller were at home at once; they saw what each other were in a moment.

"Take him into those meadows," said the latter; "put him at any fair fences you like; if you get him into one, I shall forgive you." The horse answered all that was said of him. Both agreed he was all that could be wished for the proposed buyer. His friend made his report, and recommended him not to miss the horse. He promised he would not; but it did not do. The "him and his country" still jarred like the string touched by truth; and then the buying a horse on a friend's trial and judgment had a want of independence about it that chafed him; and then the horse was not a wide brook-jumper. True, there were no wide brooks to jump where he hunted. He was not quite so fast as his present owner wanted-this seemed like putting up with something like an inferior thing. No:

he would choose for himself, and see if he could not, by giving a little inore, get nearer perfection. He tried: went to a dealer, gave £150, got one that he was told was perfection itself. This he had no great opportunity of finding out; but the first day, after one burst, he clearly ascertained he was a lame one. He would have consulted the interest of the pocket more by taking his friend's recommendation, and have made a better addition to the stud.

When using the term "stud," our ideas are chiefly led to the contemplation of the hunter's stable. I only mean it, as used in these sheets, to allude to horses in general; but, be the stud what it may, it is composed of horses used more or less as animals for real use or business, or for pleasurable purposes. Of course, the horses used for the park and street are for use, but not use in the light in which I contemplate the term.

Now, there are two opposite ways in which horses may be kept; and both will answer well if in all particulars the system is adhered to. There is the rough and ready plan, and the plan that brings out horses in fine condition; but the person is unreasonable as re gards his servant and his horses, if he thinks he can combine both. If a lady merely wants a pair of animals to drag a machine on wheels about, so as to convey her free from wet or cold wherever and whenever she is disposed to go out, and cares nothing for their appearance, the rough plan will do, provided they get plenty of corn; and such horses, with a good tough coat on them, and winter-cloths across their loins, will stand inclement weather, and be no more hurt by it than the cart-horse. But then their pace must accord with their appearance and treatment; for the cart-horse, hardy as he is, would very soon get under the doctor's hands if he was subjected to heats by fast work, and then to stand while his waggon was loaded and unloaded; for though a long coat will keep off a certain degree of rain from the pores of the skin, and a dry one will keep out the cold air, a long coat wetted with sweat is anything but likely to prevent colds, if horses are afterwards to be kept loitering about at doors. Such horses, of course, in point of keep, will cost just as much as those in good condition, and, after all, confer anything but credit on their mistress. If a lady thinks the term "my carriage" sufficient, no matter what that carriage may be, well and good. I can only say I consider the difference between such equipages as Lord Anglesey's, Lord Sefton's, and many others, and that of some that we occasionally see, is much greater than between the latter and none at all. In fact, if I had ever owned such a turn-out as I have seen some ladies sport, and wished to make a morning call, I should have desired the cortège-man, horses, and vehicle-to stop a few doors off, lest I might be suspected of owning them.

It is quite true private individuals of moderate means are not called on or expected to keep such equipages as the nobility or persons of great wealth, yet still may want a carriage for their families; and one that will pass without observation of any sort is here quite appropriate: but as most persons wish to make as decent an appearance as their means permit, and as my object is as far as I can to further their object as regards their horses and their appliances, I only beg the masters of such equipages to believe me when I assure

them that taking care their ladies are not in inclement weather all the morning shopping, that they under such circumstances curtail the length and number of their morning visits, do not order the carriage at eleven and keep it waiting till one to take them out, or at one in the morning and keep it till three to bring them home, will just make the difference of having an equipage that is at least creditable, and one that would occasionally induce a cabman to call out, "Who wouldn't keep a carriage?"

It is true we see the most splendid equipages out in the most inclement weather; but what are they doing? Taking their lords or masters to or from the House, to dinner or a party, bringing their ladies from a villa to the town-house, or to a dinner or party also. The pace keeps them warm while going, they set down, and come home, and are dried. There are other horses and other harness, if wanted, to fetch their owners back; but we do not see such owners starving their horses and servants, cheapening bonnets or silks at half-a-dozen different shops. Many hundreds who do, if they were going to ten different ones close together, would not, if they lived two hundred yards off, walk there, and, knowing they should be three hours, order their carriage to call for them at a certain hour, for the world. What, lose letting the nine see they kept a carriage! Oh, the delight of "Put those things into the carriage!" or "William," beckoning their servant into the shop, "put this in the pocket of the carriage!" Pleasant and salutary all this, for clipped horses. I have in my eye a family of a certain grade, and, from the animus of each member of it, pretty accurately guess what would be done should they perpetrate a carriage of any sort. If they wanted to go to dinner at seven, won't it be ordered to the door at five, to be seen there? If wanted to go shopping, which it certainly would be two hundred and fifty days a-year, won't it be ordered at two, to go at half-past three? Won't it be "to and again," as people describe our canine friend in a fair? Won't the tablets to write on, and the "tablets of the memory," be taxed to rake up all and every personthey ever spoke to, and to find out their residence, to make a call in the carriage? Won't Thomas be taught to give a regular " Londonderry" at the door, only somewhat longer and louder? As the boys say, "Won't he, though?"

(To be concluded in our next.)

SPORT WITH "THE FIFE HOUNDS ;"

66

OR, A PEEP AT "MERRY JOHN" (WALKER) IN HIS OWN LITTLE KINGDOM" (FIFE).

BY BRUSHWO O D.

Kind Reader! It was with a heart as light and free as down from the eider-duck's breast, that we took our departure from the banks of the Pow on the afternoon of Friday, the 26th day of November last. The day was as fine as a "foxhunter" could wish for, and we were all " cock-a-hoop" for a glorious day's sport on the morrow. As we were bowled along on that best of regulated convey

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