Riding for Ladies

by W. A. Kerr

FREE BUT NOT EASY.

Never canter on the high road, and see that your groom does not indulge himself by so doing. On elastic springy turf the pace, which in reality is a series of short bounds, if not continued too long at a time, does no great harm, but one mile on a hard, unyielding surface causes more wear-and-tear of joints, shoulders, and frame generally, than a long day's work of alternating walk and trot which, on the Queen's highway, are the proper paces. There is no objection to a canter when a bit of turf is found on the road-side; and the little drains cut to lead the water off the turnpike into the ditch serve to make young horses handy with their legs.

The Hand-gallop and Gallop.

The rider should not attempt either of these accelerated paces till quite confident that she has the horse under complete control. As the hand-gallop is only another and quickened form of the canter, in which the stride is both lengthened and hastened, or, more correctly speaking, in which the bounds are longer and faster, the same rules are applicable to both. Many horses, especially those through whose veins strong hot blood is pulsing, fairly revel in the gallop, and if allowed to gain upon the hand, will soon extend the hand-gallop to full-gallop, and that rapid pace into a runaway. The rider must, therefore, always keep her horse well in hand, so as to be able to slacken speed should he get up too much steam. Some, impatient of restraint, will shake their heads, snatch at their bits, and yaw about, "fighting for their heads," as it is termed, and will endeavour to bore and get their heads down.

A well-trained horse, one such as a beginner should ride, will not play these pranks and will not take a dead pull at the rider's hands; on the contrary, he will stride along quite collectedly, keeping his head in its proper place, and taking just sufficient hold to make things pleasant. But horses with perfect mouths and manners are, like angels' visits, few and far between, and are eagerly sought after by those fortunate beings to whom money is no object. To be on the safe side, the rider should always be on the alert and prepared to at once apply the brake. When fairly in his stride and going comfortably, the rider, leaning slightly forward, should, with both hands on the bridle, give and take with each stroke, playing the while with the curb; she should talk cheerily to him, but the least effort on his part to gain upon the hand must be at once checked. The play of the little fingers on the curb keeps his mouth alive, prevents his hanging or boring, and makes it sensible to the rider's hand.

"Keeping a horse in hand" means that there is such a system of communication established between the rider and the quadruped that the former is mistress of the situation, and knows, almost before the horse has made up his mind what to do, what is coming. This keeping in hand is one of the secrets of fine horsemanship, and it especially suits the light-hearted mercurial sort of goer, one that is always more or less off the ground or in the air, one of those that "treads so light he scarcely prints the plain."

My impression is, despite the numerous bits devised and advertised to stop runaways, that nothing short of a long and steep hill, a steam-cultivated, stiff clay fallow, or the Bog of Allen, will stop the determined bolt of a self-willed, callous-mouthed horse. There is no use pulling at him, for the more you pull the harder he hardens his heart and his mouth. The only plan, if there be plenty of elbow room, is to let him have his wicked way a bit, then, with one mighty concentrated effort to give a sudden snatch at the bit, followed by instantly and rapidly drawing, "sawing," of the bridoon through his mouth. Above all, keep your presence of mind, and if by any good luck you can so pilot the brute as to make him face an ascent, drive him up it—if it be as steep as the roof of a house, so much the better,—plying whip and spur, till he be completely "pumped out" and dead beat. Failing a steep hill, perhaps a ploughed field may present itself, through and round which he should be ridden, in the very fullest sense of the word, till he stands still. Such a horse is utterly unfit to carry a lady, and, should she come safe and sound out of the uncomfortable ride, he had better be consigned to Tattersall's or "The Lane," to be sold "absolutely without reserve."

Worse still than the runaway professional bolter is the panic-stricken flight of a suddenly scared horse, in which abject terror reigns supreme, launching him at the top of his speed in full flight from some imaginary foe. Nature has taught him to seek safety in flight, and the frightened animal, with desperate and exhausting energy, will gallop till he drops. Professor Galvayne's system claims to be effective with runaway and nervous bolters. At Ayr that distinguished horse-tamer cured, in the space of one hour, an inveterate performer in that objectionable line, and a pair he now drives were, at one time, given to like malpractices.