Ladies’ Edinburgh Magazine > Volume 5

Country Subjects and Pursuits. yj
the anticipations of the day's sport; those visits to the
thermometer,—for there has been a sharp touch of frost during
the night,—and in Scotland at least there is always a chance
of a hard frost setting in, when the curlers' hopes rise high
and the fox-hunters' fall to zero. Bat, no ! a plough, with
its horses steaming in the frosty air, can be seen busily at
work; the various carriages are off, and soon the wheels ring
less hard on the road, and specks of mud appear. Arrived
at the meet, no time is lost in mounting; and the Master,
who has given a few minutes' law for those who come from
a distance, moves on to the mount, as the first covert is
called. Then come some of the humours of the scene: u
father of a family trots by, followed by sons and daughters,
all laughing and talking and wishing good morning to their
friends; but nothing wiU tempt any of them to leave the
good horse their father is riding for more than five yards,
for they know well if they can only keep with him they
will see all there is to be seen. Then the breakers on the
young horses get jammed between elderly and nervous
gentlemen in a partnership which both desire to end. Then
the peculiar-tempered horse, whose disposition, I suppose,
answers to shyness amongst men, who will only follow his
stable companion, and has got separated in the crowd, begins
to neigh sorrowfully, varied with occasional progressions on
his hind legs, thereby clearing a way before him. But the
sound of a horn is heard from the far end of the covert;
and the
" Gay throng, which has gone laughing along,"
according to the words of the old hunting song, breaks up
in a moment into a long string of excited and galloping
riders, some determined to have their fun as long as they
can, getting to the front and leading gallantly for a hundred
yards, and then, not having confidence in their own judg¬
ment, waiting for one of the good riders, who are cantering
carefully along the side of the road. But a gate lets all the
cavalcade into one of the deep rides of the wood, through
which, with infinite labour, they struggle, to see the hounds
streaming up the opposite bank at a pace which proclaims
the scent to be good. Now send the good horse along, for
there is no fear of catching them, but a very great one of
your being left behind.
' I suppose, in one of the good hunting counties of England,
or, indeed, in the West of Scotland, every rider who is well
mounted may take a line of his own and find the fences
mostly manageable. But certainly for ladies in the hunt I