Assuming, however, for the sake of argument, that, after having discounted her call on an all-protecting Providence and stricken with terror her long-suffering friends, she manages to guide the family nag along the turnpike without the aid of a civil escort to clear the road before her—what of it? She hasn't learned anything; her form is execrable; and in case of an emergency she is quite as unprepared as when she took up the reins weeks before, with the ill-conceived notion that she was not of the common clay, and that, a whip, rather than a rattle, had been the insignia of her infantile days.
How much better, safer, and more sensible to acquire good form than by its neglect to become an object of ridicule to those who, by their knowledge of driving and exposition of superior horsemanship, are entitled to criticise others who have disregarded proper instruction, and, wise in their own conceit, relied on their ignorance for guidance.
Vulgar Display
Some women there are who drive only because they consider it the "proper thing." Absorbed in the opportunity for display, and ignorant of the fitness of things, they array themselves in the treasures of their wardrobe, more likely than not to be a gay silk, and, with every discordant ribbon and flounce of their bizarre costume loudly challenging the attention of the on-lookers, they sally forth perched on the box of a spider phaeton, Tilbury, or dog-cart, indifferent to, because ignorant of, the incongruity of their turnout, unconscious of the signal they have flung to the breeze, which unmistakably proclaims their lack of early instruction.
Bad Form
These are they who in the handling of their animals instantly call to mind the puppet-shows of our childhood days, and fill us with an almost irresistible desire to look under the box-seat and discover who is working the invisible wires. Every movement is spasmodic—the arms work as though an alternating electric current were constantly being turned through them—the hands finger the reins nervously; and if the vehicle happens to be a two-wheeler, the unhappy driver looks as though every jolt of the poorly balanced cart would send her into the road from her very insecure seat.
Another harrowing spectacle is that of the woman leaning forward, a rein in each hand, with her arms dragged almost over the dash-board by her horse's mouth, a look of direful expectancy in her eyes, and a much be-flowered and be-ribboned hat occupying unmolested a rakish position over one ear, where it has fallen during her hopeless struggle with the reins.
A WELL-BALANCED CART
Costume