beginning, that the necessary jumping of the hunting field is
not after all of so very tremendous a nature; and it may be well also to
explain to them and to others that many men hunt with great satisfaction
to themselves who never by any chance commit themselves to the peril of
a jump, either big or little.

And there is much excellent good sense in the mode of riding adopted by
such gentlemen. Some men ride for hunting, some for jumping, and some
for exercise; some, no doubt, for all three of these things. Given a
man with a desire for the latter, no taste for the second, and some
partiality for the first, and he cannot do better than ride in the
manner I am describing. He may be sure that he will not find himself
alone; and he may be sure also that he will incur none of that ridicule
which the non-hunting man is disposed to think must be attached to such
a pursuit. But the man who hunts and never jumps, who deliberately makes
up his mind that he will amuse himself after that fashion, must always
remember his resolve, and be true to the conduct which he has laid down
for himself. He must jump not at all. He must not jump a little, when
some spurt or spirit may move him, or he will infallibly find himself in
trouble. There was an old Duke of Beaufort who was a keen and practical
sportsman, a master of hounds, and a known Nimrod on the face of the
earth; but he was a man who hunted and never jumped. His experience was
perfect, and he was always true to his resolution. Nothing ever tempted
him to cross the smallest fence. He used to say of a neighbour of his,
who was not so constant, "Jones is an ass. Look at him now. There he is,
and he can't get out. Jones doesn't like jumping, but he jumps a little,
and I see him pounded every day. I never jump at all, and I'm always
free to go where I like." The Duke was certainly right, and Jones was
certainly wrong. To get into a field, and then to have no way of getting
out of it, is very uncomfortable. As long as you are on the road you
have a way open before you to every spot on the world's surface, open,
or capable of being opened; or even if incapable of being opened, not
positively detrimental to you as long as you are on the right side. But
that feeling of a prison under the open air is very terrible, and is
rendered almost agonizing by the prisoner's consciousness that his
position is the result of his own imprudent temerity, of an audacity
which falls short of any efficacio