Won in a canter. A novel. By Old Calabar

Introduction

. SPOETSMEN AND WOULD-BE SPOETSMEN. How differently matters are carried on in the sporting world now, to what they were in the palmy days of the Squire (Osbaldeston), Captain Beecher, and a host of others, gone for ever. The old stage-coach (save one or two recent revivals), the scarlet-clad guard and merry bugle are things of the past ; the claret-coloured coat and velvet collar, the tops and buckskins of Sir Gilbert Heathcote, that " fine old English gentle man," the jaunty Lord Chesterfield, have almost passed out of memory. vol. I. . b I707V 77V A CANTER. 2 The ring, what it was and what it is, may form food for gossip by mumbling, toothless old men, once stars in their pro fession ; but Father Time has dealt with heavy hand on these former models of muscular development, now piteous to be hold — blear-eyed, trembling, forgetful, and forgotten.

Scores of old friends have gone to that bourn whence no traveller gets a " return ticket." Steam-engines dart through " happy valleys" and over ground where, in the heyday of our youth, we roamed with dog, gun, and rod, listening to the melancholy cry of the plover, or wild whistle of the wary curlew. Even here, where I write, in one of the wildest parts of Wales, everlasting steam has its sway, rushing through remote glades, and by the foot of almost inac cessible mountains, where the unearthly scream of the engine scares the corbies and hawks from their lofty eyries. Some time ago, after nearly a quarter of a century's absence, I passed over Woking Common, in Surrey (the county wherein I was born, bred, and entered), where times and oft I have shot the snipe, coursed the hare, been present at many a good one's stripping, or seen him planted on his second's knee, waiting for the call of "time."

The enclosure of to-clay is widely in contrast with that of days past, for the very portion of the common formerly chosen for the display of manly vigour within a boundary of ropes, has now been turned into a vast receptacle for the "silent dead." Well may we say "sic transit gloria mundi." From the table I miss many a jovial and joyous face, which reminds me that when I last met them at that festive board, I was young and vigorous, not the grey headed " old buffer" I am now uncere moniously termed by some ; still, as I sit there quaffing (not sipping) my claret, or clipping into my beaker of port, and munching my nuts, " A dream came o'er me like a spell, I thought I was again again a child." That board, so bright and polished, and b at which, I am bound to confess, I was occasionally inclined to sit a little too long at, listening to the stirring hunting song, toast and sentiment, or puffing my cloud from my yard of clay.

" The beardless boy with his meerschaum fine, or famous Principee, To folly's strange fashions may still incline, but they never will do for me, The stoic too blind to our joys may blame, and barter his peace away, But whilst life still holds to this mortal frame, I'll cling to my yard of clay." Yes, that board is happily still the same ; the worthy owner has strenuously refused " to quit," or let the " white sheet," as he calls it, remain after the cheese has left. The dessert is placed on its mirror-like surface as of yore, the quaint old cut decanters are doing good duty, as they have for the last fifty years; but to our mutton. Shooting is not what it was ; " driving" is the system now ; dogs will presently be of no use, especially if they are so soft and pampered as to require " iced water on the moors."

(A fact ; this was done on the Bala moors two years ago.) How often have I heard the old sons: : — "To-morrow's the first of September, Get ready the dog and the gun, And be sure you don't fail to remember The whisky-flask marked number one. With Ponto you'll bring the black setter, Nor leave old friend Juno behind, And sportsmen who wish for a better, I wish they a better may find." But soon, like other things, this will be out of date. A hot luncheon from a Nor wegian kitchener is now the proper thing, and unlimited supply of Bass and claret cup takes the place of the modest sherry flask and sandwich, or a cut from the lordly round, the well-fed chine, and prime home-brewed I was wont, in years long gone past, to enjoy at Farmer Giles's. All is changed ; but is it for the better ? I do not for one instant mean to say that men and guns are not as good as they were ; that is a matter of opinion.

In my humble judgment, men, as a rule, are not the hardy sportsmen they were; but as to dogs, I have no hesitation in saying that, as a rule, they are neither so good, so handsome, or so well broken as they were thirty years ago. I was going to write, however, on modern and would-be sportsmen, who hardly care to know or hear about the high stubbles that in former years were so eagerly sought on the 1st of September. But where are the stubbles now-a-days ? The reaping-machine in many parts cuts them down as close as " the barber shaves the weekly beard from the chin of the ungodly," or used to do, for razors also are out of date ; beards and mou stache are the " correct cards" now. I have been much amused with the ideas and writings of the class of drawing-room sportsmen, who have sprung up like mush rooms of late years.

It is grand to hear some of them hold forth on sporting matters, and to see them promulgate their ideas of hunting, shooting and fishing. To say the least, their knowledge is limited ; but they have, un fortunately, the Gacoethes scribendi, or loquendi, perhaps both. Not very long ago there was a great discussion on " good shots." Many were the letters written on the subject, and greater trash I have seldom read, than some of them. Swing was a term which was introduced, aud many of the dispu tants knew as much about it as I do of flying. Amongst the productions of the time were the valuable dicta of a gentleman of some four or five years' experience. A year or two ago he was one of the most miserable performers I ever saw. The exhibition he made of himself on many occasions was melancholy ; yet he wrote and wrote, and gave his opinions pretty freely.

I am not aware that any one looked up to them, or took them for more than they were worth. Still, he must have had a pretty good stock of assurance to write so largely on a subject he knew so little about. I remember on one occasion see ing1 him miss thirteen rabbits taken from a keeper's pockets and turned out before him. On another occasion, in Ireland, he P707V 77V A CANTER. bagged one snipe out of three-and-twenty shots ; yet he must give to the world his ideas — in fact, teach people how to shoot. But hold ! he is now a " dove killer," a member of pigeon clubs. Though he nearly always shoots, he has never landed, or is he likely to land, a heavy stake. My idea of a good shot is one who will pick out the old birds from a pack or covey, and lay them low, clean killed ; bowl over his brace of rocketers on a windy day, or on the hill side, when he has the chance, floor his couple of stags right and left, well put in.

All this has been done over and over again ; and when a man can do it he may talk. But is it to be supposed for an instant that any one commencing at thirty is up to this form ? Shooting, like riding, must be commenced at an early age ; that is, if you wish to figure in the first flight. Both good shots aud good riders must have temper, patience, undeniable sight, no "gig lamps," long experience, and fine nerve. How few men who have guns and dogs know how to use them ; yet how many imagine themselves first-rate, and will not believe to the contrary. The same with hunting men ; how few, in comparison with the numbers that get across a horse, know how to ride well or with judgment ? They gallop wildly along, go at any thing, or crash through it, as the case may be. I am, and always have been, astonished that there are not more accidents.

Then there is another class, the "irre pressible," who never will " hold hard." " 'Ang it," a fellow exclaims, "I've given my two guineas for my day's mount, and mean to 'av my money's worth." Unfortunate horse ! But they are not all Smiths, Browns, or Robinsons. Jen kins rejoices in two " 'unters of his own, real good 'uns to go," he expresses it, " and no mistake; gave a 'undred and heighty for 'em, old boy, you know, awfully jolly," poking his auditor familiarly in the ribs with his hunting crop, thereby doubling up the said old boy considerably. " I flatter myself they are ra-ther the 'ammer ; sound as a roach in wind and limb," though what wind and limb a roach has I don't pretend to know. Poor fellows ! if they only knew how miserably they had been taken in ; that their wretched screws were not worth as many shillings as they had given guineas for them ; that their swell grooms, whom they are totally dependent on, had drawn from the vendors, for inducing their ignorant masters to invest in the " magnificent 'oss," a tenner, and endless blood money in the shape of half-crowns, when ever they met, or a liquor up at the nearest public.

But let me leave them in their ignorance and bounce of their " splendid 'unters." The same may be said of racing and betting men. How few really know what racing aud betting is. Thousands are at the mercy of their " confidential advisers," who give them the " correct tip." They know as much of their sevens to threes, their fives to ones, their thousands to tens, as a child unborn ; yet they cannot, poor victims, resist that. " Stick it on, old fellow ; pile on the agony ; safe as the bank ; a certainty ; bound to see good hedging ; sure to pull it off; only wish I'd some more spare cash, I'd lay evei'y six pence to my shirt buttons, and never hedge a farthing, win or place, for money." Wretched dupes, they will not open their eyes till it is too late, and they find they have " pockets to let."

The racing men — Well, I will not enter on that. We all know that most of them are at the mercy of their trainers ; not one in ten has a clean bill of health. A man must be wide awake to hold his own on the turf now-a-days ; but there are men who do it, and make it pay well ; but then they look into matters themselves, understand it, and will not be imposed on. It is not of that class of sportsmen I wrrite. Their egregious vanity is their ruin ; such men as these cannot be called " sportsmen." There is, it is true, a vast difference between a " sportsman" and a "sporting man;" but I should hardly be inclined even to call them " sporting men." I could give them a name, but politeness forbids the word.

Chapter I. Inteoduces

A FAMOUS SPOETSMAN TO THE EEADEE. Ensign Shirkington Duffer, of Her Majesty's 191st Regiment of Foot, was a remarkably fine fellow in his own estima tion, the hope of his family. Great was the joy of papa and mamma Duffer when he came into existence. No such baby had ever been seen ; no such baby had ever been born before, or likely to be. Yet he came into the world like other children, and was, shortly after his birth, " mewing and peuking " in his nurse's arms. He was a pasty-faced, unhealthy-looking babe, grew up a pasty-faced, unhealthy looking boy, and was just the same when he arrived at manhood's estate, save that the pasty face was slightly covered with scorbutic eruptions, commonly called "pim ples," and his cheeks, upper lip, and chin had a tow'y-coloured crop sprouting from them, which were industriously cultivated, and manured with ends of tallow candles and fat surreptitiously purloined from the cook, who loudly exclaimed against her being done out of " her own lawful perke sites by carrots," a name which had been given him in consequence of his hair hav ing assumed a deeper tinge, and was now in colour, as the greengrocer termed it, " a cross between an early short-horned carrot and a scarlet-topped raddish."

Shirkington grew up about as disagree able a young man as one would wish to see, or rather not see, dictatorial, and with a superlative knowledge of everything, at least he thought so, though in reality he was as ignorant as a horse on most sub jects. Old Duffer, his father, a grocer, doing a pretty good country business, thought Shirkington an uncommon fine fellow, gave him a decent education, sent him up for his examination, which he passed creditably enough, and was gazetted to the 191st Regiment. Then the measure of old Duffer's glory was full ; he only wished Mamma Duffer had lived to see the day his boy donned the regimentals of his regiment. Shirkington used to drive his father's cart about the country as a lad, leaving parcels, and bucket the old screw along on a Sunday on his own hook, unknown to his worthy parent.

He fished the miller's dam for roach and perch, and now and then procured a few sparrows from old Towler, the ratcatcher, put them under a flower-pot, which served the purpose of a trap, got Joe, the shop boy, to pull the string, and shot them at eighteen yards distant with his father's old flint gun. " Such a sportsman as his boy," old Duffer was wont to observe to his friends and neighbours of an evening after busi ness hours, at the " Blue Dragon," where the old man nightly adjourned for four k pennyworth of " gin hot," " was never seen in these parts. He was an out-and outer, and no mistake, and would put these high-flown fellows in Her Majesty's 191st Regiment of Foot up to a dodge or two before he had been with them six months." Shirkington Duffer was of the " Winkle" school of sportsmen, and laughed at ac cordingly, he soon discovered many of his brother's-in-arms could do very much better than he could, though in his inordi nate vanity he would never allow it.

" Well, Duffer," said the hard-riding Major Rasper one evening at mess; he was always foremost in taking a rise out of " young nip-cheese," as he called him, " going to do anything in the hunting way this season ?" " Not if I know it, Major. When I hunt, it is in a hunting country, not in such a cramped up hole as this. I like flying." " Sorry for it," returned the Major. " Flying ! Why the devil don't you ride pigeons then ? I should have liked, though, to have shown you the way to cross a country." " Ha, ha, Major, that is rather good. You show me the way ? I like that. You ride fourteen stone, if you do an ounce, and I barely ten." " Give you four stone and a licking, any day of the week," returned the other. " Ah, but you know, Major, I have no horses here yet." " Don't let that trouble you, my boy.

I will give you the pick of my stable, and ride you four miles across any country you choose to name, for a pony, catch weights. Are you on ?" "Not a bit of it, Major. I do not ride other men's horses ; besides, none of yours are good for me." And he sauntered from the room. " Well, damn his impudence," ejaculated the Major, when he could speak from sur prise. " None of my horses good enough for a beggarly upstart like that. Why, ' Cock Robin' cost me two hundred ; ' The Dandy' a hundred and eighty ; ' Kiss-me- Quick' the same ; ' Flying Fish' a hunvol. 1. c I707V 77V A CANTER. dred; and all the others good figures. This comes of letting a lot of cads into the service. God knows what will become of it now purchase is abolished. Infernally hard on us, upon my soul ! I was obliged to leave the cavalry be cause of the set that got into it.

One fellow of Ours said his father was a Turkey merchant. He had no end of tin, and we really thought he was the ' correct card ;' but he was always finding fault with the poultry and game at mess — it was not properly trussed, or something of that sort. Well, at last it oozed out he was the son of a poulterer in Leadenhall Market. So much for the Turkey merchant. When it became known, you may suppose he had no peace. We nicknamed him ' Jemmy Ducks,' after poor Parsons, the clerk of the course at Hampton, who died many years ago. It was too hot for the son of the Turkey merchant, so he left us. Another snob came after. He was always fiuding fault and turning about the plates and dishes. He was the only son of a China merchant. We all naturally concluded his dad had no end of ships and thousands of tons of tea ; instead of which it came to light his father sold crockery and all these sort of things at Stafford.

He did not remain long, and was only too glad to take the difference, and exchange into a West Indian regiment. No end of cads got in at last — all competitive ex amination ; but when my tailor's son joined ' Ours,' I thought it high time to make myself scarce, so exchanged, taking the difference between cavalry aud infantry. I am no sooner here than an infernal fig merchant's son joins — and from the Militia too — who cooly tells me my horses are not good enough for him." " Never mind, Rasper," said the good natured Lieut. -Colonel. " Boys will be boys. He will not bother us long. He is going away in a few days on three months' leave." " Thank God for that," ejaculated the Major ; " but he will return again. Where is he going, Colonel?" " Oh, he is mad on shooting and fishing just now, and is off on a trip to Wales, to some old school-fellow of his." c " I say, Shirkington," exclaimed one of that gentleman's companions in arms, the morning after the above conversation, " what a muff you were not to snap at Rasper's offer of four miles across country ; he cannot ride a yard, you would have licked him into fits — a conceited beggar — I know a fellow who would lend you a nag that would give him such a dressing.

A moral certainty, that is if you could stick on at all. I know he will lend you the nag, and put him into fettle, for he owes Rasper a grudge." " Do you really though, honour bright ?" returned the victim, " stick on, I rather think I can." " Yes, old fellow, my friend will lend you his horse. Come to my rooms at four this afternoon, and I will let you know if it can be managed." " All right," answered the other, and they separated. Precisely at four o'clock Shirkington Duffer, or " Shirk," as he was familiarly called by some of them, might be seen going towards his friend's rooms, bent on I707V 77V A CANTER. 21 bringing Major Rasper to book, and ride the match, if he found the horse good enough which had been promised him. " I knew," he soliloquised to himself, " I can ride ; I used to jump the old nag often unknown to my governor, and could go like beans ; a little practice will make me perfect.

I'll take the change out of Rasper ; it will get my name up too, and make me popular. I will not stand in a farthing though, if I can help it; they shall find the coin, and I will ride : fancy beating the dismounted dragoon — what nuts it will be." He never speculated on the chance of being beaten himself. " Ah, there you are," said his friend, as Shirkington entered his room. " All right, old boy, I have managed it all." So he had, for the wily fellow had been the round of the barracks, and put them all up to it. Each had subscribed a couple of sovereigns towards the stake, for they well knew Duffer would not stand to it unless he was on velvet. A certain Mr. Spavin, a livery-stable keeper and horse-dealer, had also been seen, and arranged with. Twenty sove reigns agreed as the price of the horse to be lent ; he was to put him into as good condition as the time allowed; owners to stand all risks.

" Yes, my boy," said Shirk's friend, " all is arranged ; you shall go for the pony. The nag belongs to Spavin; it is his favourite hunter ; you do not know Spavin yet, but I will take you to see him presently, he will not let everyone ride his horse, I can tell you." " Here, Mason," to the servant, " get a Hansom at once ! you shall see," con tinued the volatile young gentleman, " about one of the best bits of horse-flesh you have clapped your eyes on for some time, a regular flyer from head to heel ; but a fellow with your eye for a horse will see at a glance his good points." Shirkington was immensely flattered at his friend's encomiums ; his vanity rose to concert pitch. " Well," he said, " I do not mind riding this match to please you, and take the shine out of Rasper, such a conceited fellow he is ; I do not wish to win his money though, I would rather someone took the bet.

I will do the riding part. I ought, you know, to stand in as well; suppose you take it and put me on a tenner to nothing, it is only fair." " Well," replied his friend, pretending to consider, " I will see our fellows about it. I am quite certain they will all back you. I tell you what, though, I will take this bet myself on the chance of the others standing in ; but don't you mention a word about it, let it appear as if it was your own bet. You attack Rasper at mess this evening when the time comes on. Say you are good to accept his challenge of yesterday if he is still in the same mind ; here is the cab, pop in my boy ; take a weed first, though," and away they rattled away to the horse-dealer and livery-stable keeper.

Chapter II. Me

SPAVIN AND COLONEL DOWNEY. Me. Spavin was one of those gentlemen who lived mostly by their wits, and on the credulity of others ; he sometimes made an uncommon good thing of the military quartered there. He charged two guineas a day for a mount to the hounds, and gave unlimited tick to the subs, did a bit of stiff and renew it. Being on the look-out for Shirk and his friend, he was in full fig, sitting with his chum, Colonel Downey, in his little back-parlour ; a large plate of filberts was before them, and a bottle of middling port, a few dozens of which he now and then got in consideration of giving a mount, or a carriage to a young wine merchant lately set up, who found paying in liquor cheaper than parting with coin ; and it suited Spavin as well, so they tacitly did each other, one well knowing the wine was not worth half that was charged for it, and the other equally wide-awake as to the little account sent him by the conscientious Spavin.

Colonel Downey was tout extraordinary to the Spavin establishment, for which he had always his cob to ride of an afternoon, in fact, it was his own cob but kept at the dealer's expense. People thought the Colonel much better off than he really was ; he managed to pay his way, was a capital hand at a story, and always made an honorary member of the mess ; the young subs liked to have some one to amuse them in their dull country quarters. The Colonel liked it too ; it put him in mind of old times and when he ivas in harness himself. He was not only tout to Mr. Spavin, but to most of the good shops in the little town. The tobacconist found him in weeds, the butcher many a saddle of mutton, and his meat at twopence the pound less than other people. All begged the Colonel to remember them when the new regiment came in.

The tailor was an especial friend of his, so the old militaire was always well dressed, and capitally got up ; his boots and hats cost him little or nothing, as well as his groceries and coals. "I do what I can for them," said the Colonel, " and by gad, Sir, they must give me a little turn too; a man's time and acquaintance that is worth having must be paid for. I am not such a flat as to work for nothing." The Colonel and Mr. Spavin were at their nuts when Shirkington and his friend were introduced. " Glad to see you, Captain," said Mr. Spavin to Shirkington's friend (he always called them Captains, if they were only Ensigns, and Colonels if they were Captains) " and your friend too in the service, one of yours, I suppose, Captain." " Yes, Spavin, yes. Mr. Shirkington Duffer, of ' ours.' Ah !

Colonel, I did not see you; allow me to introduce my friend, only lately joined ; hope you will know him better; how is it we have not seen you at mess this last month? Ah, I remember, you have been away." " Sit down, gentlemen, sit down," said Spavin, drawing up a couple of chairs, " make yourselves at home ; I'm right proud to see you," and, filling their glasses, waited for what he knew was coming. " Well, Spavin," said Shirkiugton's friend, " Duffer is going to take the shine out of Rasper of Ours, you know him ; the Major challenged him yesterday to ride a match across country for a pony, which he will accept, provided you will lend him your bay horse ' Jim Crow.' Now, Rasper, as you know, cannot ride, and my friend can, so it is Lombard Street to a China orange." " You see, Captain," interposed Mr. Spavin, " ' Jim Crow ' is my own horse, a very valuable animal, I refused four hundred for him only last week from Lord Wide-awake; I did as I am a living sinner; the stake ain't much to win either, however, to oblige you — " " By gad, Sir," put in the Colonel, "but you are the most liberal fellow I ever saw, Spavin, if the horse were mine I would not lend him for a thousand guineas, by gad I would not !" and the Colonel swallowed a bumper of port at a gulp.

"Yes," said he, refilling his glass, "you are a most liberal person, and deserve to be supported; he ought, indeed, my young friend," turning to Shirkington. " He is a capital fellow, is SpaviD ; here is to his prosperity and good health," and the Colonel gulped down another glass. " Your health, Mr. Spavin," said Duffer, filling himself a glass of port. " I am much obliged to vou. I do not often drink port, too heavy, the last time I took any was on board my friend Lord Foozle's splendid yacht ; we were crossing the Atlantic, and port was the only wine we had left; all the other had been run out, for we had been detained by stress of weather. Well, we had a bottle of fifteen up on deck. All at once my attention was called to something on the water, about half a mile to windward. I pointed it out to the man at the wheel, and the yacht bore up for it.

What do you suppose it was?" " Cannot possibly say," said the Colonel. " Why," continued Shirkington, " it was a man on a hen-coop." " The devil it was," said the Colonel, " poor fellow !" "Not a bit of it," replied Shirkington, "as impudeut a rascal as you ever saw; we hailed him, and told him we would have him on board in a brace of shakes. ' Not in these boots,' he said, in a strong American accent. ' I guess, stranger, you don't know this old coon. I've been on this ere fixture about three weeks. I've got a bottle of brandy, and a plug of old Verginni left, and I calkerlate I'll make land in about auother ten days or so ; this old oss ain't a-going to trust hisself along with cussed Britishers in that tarnation cockle-shell of yours ; don't you believe it, my cockey. I'm the only one left of a ten thousand tonned vessel.