We will assume, then, that you are a young lady in your sixteenth year, possessed of the desire to acquire the art of riding, and the necessary amount of courage to enable you to do so. This latter attribute is an absolute and positive necessity, for a coward will never make a horsewoman. If you are a coward, your horse will soon find it out, and will laugh at you; for horses can and do laugh when they what is usually termed "gammon" their riders. Nobody who does not possess unlimited confidence and a determination to know no fear, has any business aspiring to the art. Courage is indispensable, and must be there from the outset. All other difficulties may be got over, but a natural timidity is an insurmountable obstacle.
A cowardly rider labours under a two-fold disadvantage, for she not only suffers from her own cowardice, but actually imparts it to her horse. An animal's keen instinct tells him at once whether his master or his servant is upon his back. The moment your hands touch the reins the horse knows what your courage is, and usually acts accordingly.
No girl should be taught to ride who has not a taste, and a most decided one, for the art. Yet I preach this doctrine in vain; for, all over the world, young persons are forced by injudicious guardians to acquire various accomplishments for which they have no calling, and at which they can never excel. It is just as unwise to compel a girl to mount and manage a horse against her inclination, as it is to force young persons who have no taste for music to sit for hours daily at a piano, or thrust pencils and brushes into hands unwilling to use them. A love for horses, and an earnest desire to acquire the art of riding, are alike necessary to success. An unwilling learner will have a bad seat, a bad method, and clumsy hands upon the reins; whereas an enthusiast will seem to have an innate facility and power to conquer difficulties, and will possess that magic sense of touch, and facile delicacy of manipulation, which go so far toward making what are termed "good hands,"—a necessity without which nobody can claim to be a rider.
CHAPTER II.
LEARNER'S COSTUME.—THE BEST TEACHER.—YOUR BRIDLE.—YOUR SADDLE.— YOUR STIRRUP.—DANGER FROM "SAFETY-STIRRUP."—A TERRIBLE SITUATION. —LEARNING TO RIDE WITHOUT ANY SUPPORT FOR THE FOOT.
Having now discussed your age, your nerve, and your taste, we shall say a few words about your costume as a learner. Put on a pair of strong well-made boots; heels are not objectionable, but buttons are decidedly so, as they are apt to catch in the stirrup and cause trouble. Strong chamois riding-trousers, cloth from the hip down, with straps to fasten under the boots, and soft padding under the right knee and over the left, to prevent the friction of the pommels, which, to a beginner, generally causes much pain and uneasiness. A plain skirt of brown holland, and any sort of dark jacket, will suit your purpose quite well, for you are only going to learn; not to show off—yet. Your hat—any kind will do—must be securely fastened on, and your hair left flowing, for no matter how well you may fancy you have it fastened, the motion of the horse will shake it and make it feel unsteady, and the very first hairpin that drops out, up will go your hand to replace it, and your reins will be forgotten. As soon as you have put on a pair of strong loose gloves, and taken a little switch in your hand, you are ready to mount.
The nicest place in which you can learn is a well-tanned riding-school or large green paddock, and the nicest person to teach you is a lady or gentleman friend, who will have the knowledge and the patience to instruct you. Heaven help the learner who is handed over to the tender mercies of John, the coachman, or Jem, the groom! Servants are rarely able to ride a yard themselves, and their attempt at teaching is proportionately lame. Your horse having been led out, your attendant looks to his girthing, &c., as stable servants are not always too particular respecting these necessary matters.
The pleasantest bridle in which to ride is a plain ring-snaffle. Few horses will go in it; but, remember, I am surmising that yours has been properly trained. By riding in this bridle you have complete control over the movements of your horse—can, in fact, manage him with one hand, and you have the additional advantage of having fewer leathers to encumber and embarrass your fingers. A beginner is frequently puzzled to distinguish between the curb and the snaffle when riding with a double rein, and mistaking one for the other, or pulling equally at both, is apt to cause the horse much unnecessary irritation. It is lamentable to see the manner in which grown men and women, who ought to know so much better, tug and strain at their horses' mouths with an equal pull upon both reins, when riding, as is the custom, in a bit and bridoon. Perhaps of the two they draw the curb the tighter. It is not meant for cruelty—they do not appear to be aware that it is cruel: but there is no greater sign of utter ignorance. Horses are not naturally vicious, and very few of them who have had any sort of fair-play in training, really require a curb, or will go as well or pleasantly upon it as if ridden in a snaffle-bridle.
Your saddle is another most important point. Never commence, be your age ever so tender, by riding upon a pad. Accustom yourself from the beginning to the use of a properly constructed saddle, made as straight as a board, seat perfectly level, and scarcely any appearance of a pommel upon the off-side. A leaping-head, or what is commonly termed a third crutch, is, in my opinion, indispensable. To procure a saddle such as I describe you must have it made to order, for those of the present day are all made with something of a dip, which is most objectionable. I do not like the appearance of much stitching about a saddle. It has always appeared to me absurd to see the amount of elaborate embroidery which every old-fashioned saddle carries upon the near flap. Nothing could be more unnecessary than an outlay of labour upon a portion of the article which is always concealed beneath the rider's right leg. There might be some sense, although very little, in decorating the off-side and imparting to it something of an ornamental appearance; but in my opinion there cannot be too much simplicity about everything connected with riding appointments. A plainness, amounting even to severity, is to be preferred before any outward show. Ribbons, and coloured veils, and yellow gloves, and showy flowers are alike objectionable. A gaudy "get up" (to make use of an expressive common-place) is highly to be condemned, and at once stamps the wearer as a person of inferior taste. Therefore avoid it. Let your saddle be, like your personal attire, remarkable only for its perfect freedom from ornament or display. Have it made to suit yourself—neither too weighty, nor yet too small—and if you want to ride with grace and comfort, desire that it be constructed without one particle of the objectionable dip. There is a very old-established and world-noted firm in Piccadilly—Peat & Co.—where you can obtain an article such as I describe, properly made, and of durable materials, at quite a moderate cost. I can say, speaking from experience, that no trouble will be spared to afford you satisfaction, and that the workmanship will be not only lasting, but characterised by that neatness for which I am so strong an advocate. You should ride on your saddle, not in it, and you must learn to ride from balance or you will never excel, and this you can only do by the use of the level seat. A small pocket on the off-side, and a neat cross strap to support a waterproof, are of course necessary items.