the slip noose, as he terms it, cannot tighten and pinch the nose from the circumstance of its having a stop to prevent it. It is much more readily slipped over the head of a young colt than a head collar, as it is termed, made of leather, and the webbing is more pliant. The philosophy of horsemanship, as Mr. Rarey expresses himself, is good, interesting, and instructive, though I consider his progress far too hasty to be permanent and effective; the go-a-head system is characteristic of his native country. On the application of the whip he gives instructions which demand a caution. In the case of stubbornness he says "it might be well to give him a few sharp cuts about the legs, pretty close to the body." He evidently means the thighs or arms; but as his book is no doubt extensively studied by grooms, stable boys, and others of that class, it is an unfortunate expression calculated to do much harm. I know too well the propensities they have for inflicting blows on the legs of horses when dressing them.

Mr. Rarey's observations on bitting horses are correct, and precisely in accordance with the directions given by me, eight years ago, in the work called "The Stud Farm," published by Messrs. Longman. They will be found in page 133 of the second edition, and in Mr. Rarey's book at pages 42 and 49, almost in the same words. The vast importance of a good mouth cannot be too strongly impressed. By Mr. Rarey's teaching it appears to me that he depends mainly upon the cultivation of the mouth by the hand of the rider; if so, with more than nine of our colt-breakers in ten it would be a failure. A fine hand, or rather the delicate handling which that expression is intended to convey, is an accomplishment which very few otherwise good horsemen possess. Whether the young horse may be destined to reap honours on the turf, or glory in the hunting field, or perform more subordinate duties as a hack or in harness, his value will be materially affected by the excellence of his mouth.

The motto adopted by Mr. Rarey, as applicable to his system of taming wild horses, is "fear, love, and obey.' This may in some cases apply to the treatment of old horses confirmed in vice, but certainly not to young unbroken colts in whom no vice exists. With the latter, fear is the prevailing impediment to their education and their services. With respect to old offenders, if by any device suggested by the occasion you can cause the animal to inflict punishment upon himself by the committal of his offence, he may be subjugated, from the fear that the pain he feels will be again repeated by his own act.

Mr. Youatt, in his work "The Horse," published by Messrs. Routledge, gives a description of the method practised in South America, of breaking the wild horses taken in the prairies. It is a very severe measure, applicable to such animals, but not required with those reared in a state of domestication. He states: "A post is firmly fixed in the ground, to which a ring is attached. The horse is then brought to the post with a long halter, and made fast. The breaker takes his poncho -a large cloak worn by the South Americans-and ties it round the eyes of the horse so as to blindfold him. The animal is then left to himself, and shortly begins to tremble with fright at his unusual helpless position; a profuse perspiration breaks out upon him; and if suffered to continue thus, he falls from the exhaustion of the nervous system caused

by his fright. Before this takes place, a rude saddle is placed on his back, heavily weighted at the stirrups; and to this he quietly submits. Presently, when the animal is stupefied, the breaker goes up to him, and patting his neck and otherwise caressing him, in some respects soothes him, and this goes on till the horse exhibits signs of reliance on the breaker. By-and-bye the poncho is removed, and the lesson wished to be imparted has been learned, viz. that of looking on man, who has relieved him from the fearful poncho, as his friend."

There are a vast number of amusing manœuvres which horses may be taught in a loose box or in a riding-school, which possess very little utility; and although their exhibition may convey to the uninitiated ideas of wonderful docility, yet the horses which perform them may be, and very frequently are, the greatest brutes to ride or drive. Many horses are very tractable and easily managed in a riding-school, yet quite the reverse on the road.

Whatever good effects may be produced by Mr. Rarey's system in subjugating certain horses, its permanency will always be a point at issue; for this reason: Horses will get into the hands of persons who are incompetent to manage them. An instance of injudicious treatment came under my observation very recently. An intimate friend has a mare, eight or nine years old, a very high-couraged animal, that he had driven in harness with perfect safety, which I can testify, having ridden behind her. He went from home, and his servant put her to, for the use of a friend. When leaving the stable-yard, they contrived to run against a wall, when the mare, not being properly handled, became alarmed, and throwing herself down on her side, broke the shaft of the dog-cart. This of course ended the exploit for the time. On the return of her owner, as she had gone temperately before, he again attempted to drive her; but she evinced most determined indications of restiveness, and not being inclined to incur the risk of another broken shaft, all further endeavours have been abandoned. As she had been driven a considerable time without exhibiting refractory symptoms, there is no doubt that the mischief was occasioned by awkwardness and bad manage

ment.

If horses were properly treated from their birth, no difficulty would ever be experienced in their management. Neglect reduces them to a different state a state approaching to that of nature. In such cases the practices recommended by Mr. Rarey in his book, for approaching young horses, would most of them operate with a good effect. He is no doubt a clever performer; but there is not a feature of novelty suggested in his writing. In the chapter giving instruction to get a wild colt into the stable, he says, "One wrong move may frighten your horse, and make him think it necessary to escape at all hazards for the safety of his life." Nothing can more emphatically and correctly express the nervous sensibility that distinguishes "HORSES AND THEIR CHARACTERISTICS."

KNAPSACK WANDERINGS IN MERRIE ENGLAND.

BY LINTON.

No. IV.

"Attend, ye farmers, to this tale;
And as you mend the broken rail,
Reflect with pleasure on a sport
That lures your landlord from the Court
To come and spend his rents among
The country folks from whom they sprung:
And should his steed with trampling feet
Be urged along your tender wheat,
That steed, perchance, by you was bred,
And your's the corn on which he's fed.
Ah! then repress your rising ire,
Nor rashly curse a hunting squire."

The power of steam has unquestionably annihilated space. On the 29th of this, the genial month of May, for the first time in my life I stood amid the thousands who gathered joyously on the well-known chalky Downs of Surrey to witness the Ismian games, i. e., that great event in "merrie" England's history-The Derby. In good faith, I was in luck; for a better start, a better race, and a better finish, I imagine has rarely been attained, or seldom witnessed. For my own part, I could neither presume to describe what I saw or what I felt, save that it was a condensed all-overishness of pride and pleasure, mixed up with pigeon-pie, champagne, and lobster-salad-the latter most decidedly contributing to the pleasure of my inward man; the former that I knew myself, from the top of my head to the soles of my feet, every inch an Englishman. Therefore was I one among the thousands of right men in their right places; for I declare, say nay who will, that every man born under the sovereignty-or, rather, being a subject of an English sovereign-if only once in his life, should see the Derby. Aye! and would it not be as well that our numerous friends, of whatever nation they may be, who live beyond the Ditch, to use a Newmarket phrase, which divides "perfide Albion" from the continent, having the power, should do so likewise? It strikes me-when they beheld the gallant and mighty mass of England's manhood who throng the stands, with heads all turned towards the noble steeds which sweep towards the goal, and the throng who gather on those fresh and breezy downs in brotherhood and merriment that it would do more than anything else to convince them that any attempt to invade our little island would only result in returning with their heads broken, if ever they did return. Joke or no joke, I would back at long odds and close quarters a division armed

with the short thick sticks hurled on the Derby day at dolls and snuffboxes, against a legion-come they from north, east, south, or west. Well, my good friends, I went to see the Derby; doubtless you were there also, and will read these lines. I only hope you enjoyed yourself as much as I did, and returned with your pockets none the lighter, and your interiors as well filled with good cheer.

Yes, on the 19th of May, 1858-I shall never forget it!-I was at the Derby. On the 20th, at 8 p.m., duty called me far, far away, to other and less exciting scenes. And at 10 p.m. on the night of the 24th, here I am quietly at anchor on the placid waters of the harbour of Messina, doing pleasant work with my pen, amid much laughter around me, for my excellent and agreeable friend, Don Joseppe Tuxfordio, the experienced, and, I must add, discriminating caterer for Maga. Who, then, dare say that steam has not annihilated space? Whither will it lead us? All I know is, that I saw the Derby four days since; and I look forward, God permitting, to return to read the usual admirable account of it in the "Omnibus" of Maga, a fortnight hence. All I wished was, that I could have seen the Oaks also. But I am here, here in the harbour of Messina; and more, I cannot help myself. It is strange, passing strange, but true, and causes me to reflect on another strange, though possibly silly, event.

I was sitting in the carriage which had conveyed us to the pleasant scene above-named, side by side with a grey-whiskered and agreeable sporting companion, doing that which some hundreds of others were doing-smoking a short pipe-when one among the numerous gipsies who frequent the race-courses of Old England proposed to tell our fortunes. Addressing herself, imprimis, to my friend, and then turning towards me, she held forth uninterruptedly for five minutes, detailing such extraordinary "facts" with reference to my present and past existence, that my friend could not resist opening his pursestrings; ending, moreover, with the assertion that I would cross the sea the following night on a long journey. And here I am; and most heartily do I wish that-instead of looking on the still snowcapped Etna, and the Calabrian mountains glittering opposite in the bright moonlight-I was wandering in the Valley of the Rocks, near Linton, or crossing the heathered hills of Exmoor, whither my pen and thoughts, if not my person, are bound.

It was in the early days of a bright autumn-I cannot strictly recollect whether in that of 1853 or 1854, which nevertheless is unimportant that I buckled on my knapsack. It contained but few necessaries; in fact, I was in light marching order-a change or two of linen and a dinner-dress; not forgeting, however, a pair of leathers top-boots and spurs, the boots without, the tops within, as the kind friend whom I was about to visit had promised me a mount with the deerhounds. Thus prepared, with a light heart, a thick stick, and a short pipe as my companions, I crossed the estuary of the Exe near Exmouth, where it flows into the British Channel, and fairly started, I may say, for its source, which I crossed on the following morning. My first brief halt, after leaving the boat, was Star Cross, a pretty little Exe-side hamlet, well known to the men of the West, famous for good oysters and vast quantities of shell-fish (all sent to London) and its pleasant Freemason meetings. It has also other charms, the

charms of nature; for it rests, as it were, beneath the glorious woodclad hills of Haldon and Mamhead-the latter lovely residence being the property of a keen sportsman, and recent owner of the well-known "plater Peter Flat." Here I availed myself of the railway to the Tiverton Station, and thence to that pleasant abode of Liberals, trout, and silk manufacturers; where I buckled on my knapsack, and walked up the pleasant valley of the Exe, described in my last chapter, a charming twelve miles by the side of its clear and sparkling waters, to the house of my sporting friend.

Having refreshed myself after a highly interesting though fatiguing walk during a somewhat hot September day, by a long pull and a strong pull from a vast jug of sparkling ale, which soon made its appearance on his hospitable board, and expressed my satisfaction at having at last found myself on the borders of Exmoor Forest, with a chance on the morrow of a gallop across its heathered hills, we sallied forth on the velvet lawn to look on the surrounding beauties of his truly picturesque and charming sporting retreat, which I shall call The Combe, for in a combe it stood, and briefly endeavour to describe it; though as regards those unacquainted with the lovely wooded ravines of North Devon, I fear I may have some difficulty.

On the north extremity of one of these ravines, backed by woodclad heights, in which the evening cry of the pheasant, the crow of the heath poult, for they bordered the heathered hills beyond, and the whirr of the woodcock in due season was not seldom heard, on an open position or terrace land stood a small but commodious house of great antiquity; so ancient, that for the most part the rooms were panelled with dark oak, as was the picturesque staircase which led to the upper rooms, all of which were of a similar nature with the dining and withdrawing room, and I may add the so-called smoking retreat, in which how many and many a joyous hour I have since passed, in fighting over and over again the battles lost and won on the morning's hunting and shooting grounds, over a bright and cheerful wood fire, which made the panelled cornices bright as day-no fitter place, believe me, for such reveries; equally fit, may-be, for a lady's boudoir, for it looked out on a charming ancient bowling-green and flower-garden, which might have been a very paradise to Flora. But then my friend was a bachelor! The lawn or terrace in front of this, a thorough sportsman's abode, looked due south, down a deep and woodland glen or ravine, through the centre of which, over massy rocks, played a rapid and bounding trout stream, the bright waters of which were here and there o'ershadowed by the silvery birch and alder tree. the house was ample stabling and kennels, and sufficient gardens and cultivation for all the requirements of home and horse; in fact, for one who loved the charms of nature without absolute solitude, and who revelled in the sports of the field, it would be difficult to find a region more replete with taste and refinement; and though apparently sequestered, yet so near was it to the gay world without, that the Times of yesterday, and the letters of the previous night posted in London, appeared matutinally on the breakfast-table. I will not dwell on the hearty welcome I received, or the pleasures of that long-to-beremembered evening; suffice, I there met pleasant sporting friends. And we parted long after midnight had sounded on the clocks of

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