CHAPTER II.

FOR MOTHERS AND CHILDREN.

It is a rare thing to take up a cookery book in which the reader is not solemnly warned against the evils attendant upon frying chops and steaks in the pan, the deterrent paragraph usually winding up with: “Nevertheless, for the benefit of those who will not be brought to acknowledge the superiority of the gridiron as a cooking utensil, we append a few instructions.” It is as though the writer of the volume meant solemnly to say, “I have told you how to avoid the horrors of dyspepsia; but, if you _will_ go in for them, I may as well show you the least objectionable way of doing it.”

On this principle, or something bearing a close resemblance to it, I have, as in duty bound, made known my objections to girls of immature age being permitted to indulge in equestrian exercise; and having eased my conscience by doing so, I shall lay down a few rules for the guidance of those who pay no heed to friendly warnings, but prefer taking their own way, and who, in short, _will_ have the pan, in preference to the gridiron.

First, then, I will surmise that the child to be instructed is at least five years old. There are, I am aware, mothers of families who actually put their infant children into panniers, because they “look pretty” in them, and send them out on ponies for an hour’s jolting, with their poor little heads bobbing pitifully about, and brain and spine alike suffering from the so-called exercise. There are fathers, too, who think that their boys ought to ride before they are well capable of walking, and who in consequence of this belief clap them on to wide-backed, rough-actioned animals, regardless of the dangers to which, by so doing, they are exposing the feeble frames of their hapless offspring. To aid such persons by offering any sort of instruction as a help to their objectionable practices would be like assisting at a murder, or showing a torturer how to get on with his work.

I was choosing some articles at the establishment of a fashionable saddler a short time ago, when the proprietor stepped forward and requested me to look at an instrument (I can call it by no other name) which he had just completed to order. It was a child’s saddle, with a contrivance not unlike a brazier, arising from the centre of it, well furnished with padding and straps. This unique appliance was, it appeared, the invention of the father of the unfortunate infant for whose benefit it had been manufactured, and his pride in its appearance, and in his own cleverness, was quite unbounded. Determined that his son, aged three, should begin his lessons in horsemanship at that early period of life, and resolved to secure him from tumbling off (the only thing in the shape of danger to which he gave a moment’s thought), he conceived the idea of buckling the infant into the “brazier,” which was meant to come right up under the armpits, and by this means avert all possibility of a fall. It had apparently never struck this intelligent inventor of curiosities that the _pony_ might fall as well as the boy, and that if it did, the little rider could scarcely fail to be seriously if not fatally injured, owing to the impossibility of his falling clear of the prostrate animal.

If a child of tender years _must_ ride, by order of an ill-judging parent or caretaker, let it do so upon a safety-pad, fitted with a well-stuffed back, in order to prevent that of the child from becoming fatigued by remaining too long unsupported.

The pad-pony should be a light, elastic walker, and of necessity perfectly docile and quiet. He must, of course, be led: his paces being properly regulated, and his head kept quite straight. A good contrivance for this--and indeed for leading any description of horse--is a stout bamboo cane, fitted with a swivel snaphook.

The pad-pony should be ridden with a mild snaffle bridle, with loops somewhat large--and I am a great advocate for _flap-reins_: by which I mean a straight but not over-tightened band, extending from the flap of the saddle to the loop or ring of the bit, on either side--an admirable contrivance, which keeps the pony’s head in position, and also serves as a check against restiveness or starting. The girths should be broad and strong, and not too slack, and the pad should be made without a tree, and be composed of some soft roughened material, ornamented or not--according to fancy, and the outlay to be involved in the matter.

The advantage of having a strap in front is apparent for a very young child. It should, however, be used _only_ when the pony is led, and when he cannot therefore possibly make off or fall down. In such case, and such only, it may be approved, inasmuch as it imparts a certain amount of confidence to an infant learner, and is likewise of assistance in ensuring an upright seat; but I should like to see it discontinued after the first few lessons, and the back of the pad also removed when a trifle more experience has been gained.

About eight years old is the very earliest age at which a girl should, under any circumstances, be permitted to ride on a side-saddle, or to mount the back of an unled animal. I prefer a small horse to a pony for the initiatory lessons, as being generally better paced and better broken. The child should not at first be allowed to touch the bridle at all. She should sit perfectly square and erect, her figure well balanced, her shoulders thrown back, and her arms folded upon her breast, while an attendant walks alongside her horse and keeps his paces evenly regulated. This is the correct method of teaching a child how to ride _from balance_,--an accomplishment most desirable for every class of rider. The ordinary fashion of putting a little one up, and giving her the reins to hold on by, is about as efficient a plan of instruction as teaching the same child to play the piano by ear only--thus ignoring the very first principles of the art--or running-up a building without laying a foundation-stone. Circus-children, the most beautiful balance-riders in the world, are taught to ride at first without ever touching the reins; and nothing else that could be suggested would ever be capable of giving the same firmness of seat.

If the learner be a boy, he should be taught his first lessons without stirrups; but I would not deny the assistance of such support to a little girl, as her position on the saddle would otherwise entail much extra fatigue upon the left leg. Be it understood, however, that the stirrup should be taken away after the first few lessons, and the child be instructed to ride for at least an hour a day without any such aid; otherwise she will trust to it, when riding, for the remainder of her life, and to ride _from_ the stirrup is one of the most objectionable practices into which a young person can possibly fall.

When a firm and even seat has been obtained, without the help of reins or stirrup, the former (of the very lightest description, and _single_) may be entrusted to the little learner’s hands, but the flap-reins must not by any means be discarded.

When the child is perfectly at home on her horse, and has learned to treat his mouth with the utmost gentleness, and not on any account to pull at the bridle, a canter may be indulged in, by the attendant attaching a long rein to a cavesson and urging the horse to a gentle pace, making him lead _always_ with the right leg, and pulling him up directly he changes to the left. The child should be most carefully watched during the exercise, and any tendency to hang over on one side or the other, or to lift one shoulder, or poke the neck, be at once checked.

The saddle should be level-seated--covered with buckskin, for a beginner--and should have no off-pommel. This latter appendage is happily almost obsolete, except with the most old-fashioned saddles, and is entirely unnecessary, as well as unsightly, for it affords no additional safety to the rider, and youthful learners are especially apt to lay hold upon it in any imaginary danger--an excessively bad practice to acquire.

As the term “level seat” applied to side saddles may not be generally understood, I will give a few words of explanation:--The ordinary side saddle, being made with the arch of the tree raised to clear the withers, is necessarily much higher in front than behind, and as a consequence the knee is thrown up in a cramped and fatiguing position; it is difficult thus to keep the figure erect, an aching back ensues to the rider, and frequently torture to the horse. The level-seated saddle has the steel front-part cut quite away over the withers, and replaced by a pad of soft leather, giving that horizontal shape from front to rear so much desired, yet so seldom found. These saddles were introduced and perfected by Messrs. Nicholls and Co., of 2, Jermyn Street, London, who have carefully studied the comfort of both horse and rider, and assisted by the experience and suggestions of that well-known authority, Mr. Wilson of Albington Manor, late master of the Vale of White Horse Hounds, have produced really admirable side saddles.

Trotting must be taught when the pupil has been perfected in the canter. It is not an easy thing either to teach or learn, but I shall come at the principles of it by-and-by. Trotting should be practised on soft, springy ground, never on a road, and the horse on which the lessons are taken should be very light of action, and of _even paces_. Otherwise, the punishment to the learner will be great, and the teacher’s difficulties equally trying.

Little girls learning to ride should be dressed in neat skirts, just long enough to cover the feet; loose-fitting jackets--(jerseys are excellent)--hair left flowing, never fastened up; and soft hats or caps, _well_ secured under the chin, in such a manner as to prevent the possibility of their coming off. Whips should not on any account be allowed until some degree of proficiency has been attained, and the proper use of them should then be strictly pointed out, and as strictly adhered to. With this matter I shall likewise hereafter deal, as also with the question of spurs--articles which, I may here observe, should never, under _any_ pretext whatever, be granted for children’s use.

A child should be taught to mount her horse with ease when assisted, as also the expediency of being able to do so without any help at all: this latter by simply letting down the stirrup-leather--taking it up, of course, to the required length, or rather shortness, when seated securely on the saddle. She should likewise practice dismounting without assistance. No active child should ever think of requiring a helping hand. To lift the right leg deftly over the up-crutch, take the left foot from the stirrup, gather the skirt well together with the right hand--making certain that no portion of it is in any way caught upon the pommels--and then to jump lightly down, is the proper method of dismounting. To be lifted--except for very young pupils--is extremely babyish.

How long a child should be permitted to ride at a stretch is a question very often asked me, and one to which I find some difficulty in giving a satisfactory reply. Some children are strong, and can both endure and enjoy an amount of exercise that would knock a delicate child completely up. Again, some are passionately fond of the art, while others care but little about it, and (as is well known) the things that one likes are seldom liable to cause fatigue, except when carried beyond the ordinary limits of moderation.

The counsel I would give is this: Watch carefully for any sign of lassitude, or display of weariness on the part of the pupil, and stop the riding as soon as such appears. What I mean to convey is, that if a child complains of feeling tired during her lesson, she should at once be permitted to dismount; or if after, say, an hour’s ride on the road she is conscious of fatigue, the time should on the next occasion be shortened to three-quarters, or even to half, and subsequently increased, according as the pupil gains experience and strength.

Nothing should be left undone to inspire confidence in the breast of a child-rider. Her mount should be the gentlest, her teacher the kindest, all her appliances (saddle, &c.) new, comfortable, and reliable. Girths that are apt to break, for instance, give a child uncomfortable impressions,--and early ideas or opinions on _any_ subject are certain to influence the entire of the later life. Be it remembered, however, that although everything should be done to make the youthful learner feel at ease, while striving at the same time to impart proficiency, no approach to self-conceit, or desire to “show off,” should be for an instant encouraged. Modesty of demeanour is quite as charming out of doors as within. The child who pays attention to her seat, her hands, her horse--in short, to what she is doing--will make a better and more reliable horsewoman (even though she may be awkward at first) than will she who looks about for admiration, while neglecting the principles on which she has been taught. It is like the plodding student and the flippant-tongued. One will answer every question with tolerable smartness, out of the shallow depths of a superficial knowledge, while the other, though missing, may nevertheless be engaged in laying up a store of learning, which will in after life stand her in good stead.

Now, a word specially addressed to children, and I shall close my chapter. Be uniformly kind to animals, especially to the horses that carry you. Let humanity be a portion of your religion. Discipline, properly exercised, is just and right, and is as far removed from _cruelty_ as is light from darkness, or bitter from sweet; but, hand in hand with it, _gentleness_ should ever go. A hasty temper will induce cutting with the whip, dragging with the bridle, kicking or rasping with the heel, and uttering rough words, which, although not thoroughly understood by the animal, yet carry a tone with them which has a meaning for him of no pleasurable sort. On the other hand, a child of cold and dogged disposition will take its turn out of the willing slave at its command, and think no more about it than if it were a mere machine. This is pitiably wrong. You, _as_ a child, ought to teach your horses to love you. You _can_ do so, and it is well worth the time employed in the pursuit. I need not tell you how to do it: instinct will teach you. There are a thousand little ways and means, all of which you can try. For instance, always pet your horse in his stall, and when saddled for your use; make much of him when you are on his back, patting his neck, and stroking him gently with your hand, speaking soothingly to him all the while. Accustom him to the sound of your voice; give him scraps of bread, sugar, apple, or carrot when you dismount, or while he waits for you at the door; and when you do this, allow him to take the morsel quietly off the palm of your hand, not showing any fear; he will not bite you, if he is fit to be your pet. You should never offer him a bit between your fingers, or pull your hand away before he has taken the morsel up. This will, or at least _may_, induce him to snap: just as it would provoke a dog to do, if tantalised. You can feed him, too, if you like, when seated on his back; there is nothing more charming than sympathy between the human and the brute creation. Horse and rider should be on the best of terms, and all will then go right.

In a former work of mine on equitation, I made repeated mention of a hunter I once possessed, called “Pleader.” I gave him that name because his sire was “The Lawyer,” a very famous horse. “Pleader” and his mistress were on the most affectionate terms--brother and sister we were, that horse and I; certainly no two ever loved one another better--and this despite the fact that I had given him many a good whipping, for I trained him myself, and he was a rare hard one to bring to his manners; but he knew quite as well as I did that it was for his good, and so he loved me none the less. I rode him subsequently to hounds for three seasons, without ever giving him so much as a warning touch. When we fell together--and how often we did!--he waited for me to get up; and when he was the first on his legs, although trembling with excitement to scurry away with the rest, he would stand patiently for me to remount him. That horse’s training was not thrown away. He carried me in the first flight through two long and trying runs, the very day previous to that on which I met the accident that deprived me of the power of ever riding him again, and he is now carrying in similar splendid style a noble and popular master of hounds, the Earl of Eglinton and Winton, gaining honourable mention in the _Field_ and other sporting papers. I sold him to a good master and a good home, and when he shall have finished his work (if I am spared to see it) he has been promised to me again, that the last of his days may be spent in quiet happy idleness, and that the hands that trained him may lay him to his rest.

I have spoken thus of “Pleader,” not altogether because I love him so dearly, as to encourage my young readers to make much of the animals that carry them, and to establish a bond of _mutual sympathy_, which is as beautiful as it is good. The greatest horsewoman in the world, Her Imperial Majesty the Empress of Austria, frequently feeds her horses with bread or biscuit while seated upon their backs. She is one of the rare few who seem to grasp the meaning of that peculiar “sympathy” of which I have spoken, and which is indeed so very difficult to understand.

“There are mysteries deep that we cannot unravel, And bonds of affinity ever unguess’d, While the Road to RESEARCH is a hard one to travel, And many’s the query, and weary the quest. There are circuits of THOUGHT, growing fainter and wider, Like circles in water when pebbles are thrown, _And the links that exist ’twixt the horse and his rider, Our shallow philosophy never has known._”