Cross Country With Horse And Hound

ther way of saying that a good hunter, whatever he is like, however he is formed, however he is bred, whatever his colour, if he suits and fits us, is not a bad horse. The one horse among the multitude that have passed through my hands, by which all horses are compared and come short, was one Brunett, a three-quarter-bred Canadian thoroughbred. In conformation she was a collection of minor faults. She was a little over on her knees, slightly sickle-hocked, rather long in the back, had ragged hips, a large plain head, and the longest ears I have ever seen on anything but a mule; nevertheless she was such an animal as one meets with but once in a lifetime. She had courage, spirit, light-heartedness, a happy disposition, rare intelligence, and the most charming manner in harness.She was also the most delightful hack that ever carried a saddle. There were bolder-going cross-country horses and faster, but none ever enjoyed the game better; and although she was only fifteen and one half hands, and apparently not up to my weight, I never fathomed her staying qualities. I did not know as much about horses then as I do now, or I never should have parted with her. Take my advice: if you ever come across a horse that thoroughly suits you, let neither love nor money take him from you. The chances are one in a thousand you will ever find another. But what suits one person will not always suit another. The man to whom I sold Brunett sold her back to me two years lat...