Horsemanship for Women

PART IV.

BUYING A SADDLE-HORSE 132

Parts and “Points” of the Horse, Alphabetically Arranged 135

List of Diseases and Defects 148

INDEX 157

ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE

Coming to the Whip 6 A good Saddle 13 A properly fitted Curb-chain 16 Flexion of the Jaw--using the Curb 22 Lowering the Head 26 Punishment in case of Resistance 27 “Pulling the Hands steadily Apart” 33 To Bend the Neck to Right or Left, with the Reins below the Bits 34 Getting the Horse “Light in Hand” 35 Pulling on the Right Rein 36 Moving the Croup one step to the Right 39 Getting a Horse accustomed to Skirts 42 Showing Reins in Left Hand 43 Advancing at touch of Heel 44 Stopping at touch of Whip on Back 45 The Walk (Colt in Training) 46 Bending the Neck to Right and Left 49 Moving the Croup with the Heel and Whip 53 Guiding Bridlewise (Turning to the Right) 56 The Canter 65 Ordinary Pirouette 71 Going on “Deux Pistes” 72 The Passage 73 Backing 76 Reins in Hand 77 Act of changing Reins 77 Leading with the Right Fore-foot 80 Leading with the Left Fore-foot 82 Ready to Mount 94 “One, Two, Three” 95 Placing the Foot in the Stirrup 96 Position in Saddle 97 A Square and Proper Seat 103 Method of holding the Reins in both Hands 111 Approaching a Fence 119 A Water Jump 121 Rising to the Leap 127 Coming Down 129 Parts and “Points” 136 The sort of Horse to Buy 146 The sort of Horse not to Buy 149

HORSEMANSHIP FOR WOMEN.

PART I.. Amateur Horse-Training.

AMATEUR HORSE-TRAINING.

“My dear,” said my wife, “you don’t mean to say you have bought that horse?”

“Why, yes, indeed,” replied I; “and very cheap, too. And why not?”

“You will never get your money back,” said she, “no matter how cheap you have bought him. Don’t keep him. Send him back before it is too late.”

It was a sultry July morning, and my wife stood on the farm-house porch, in provokingly fresh attire, while I held my new acquisition by the bridle in the scorching sun; and just recovering as I was from illness, this conversation struck me as really anything but tonic in its character. However, bracing myself up, I replied, “But I don’t want to get my money back; I intend to train him for my own use under the saddle.”

“Oh, you can never do anything with that great horse. Why, he is the awkwardest brute I ever saw. Just look at him now!”

In fact, his appearance was anything but beautiful at that moment. His Roman nose, carried a long way forward and a little on one side, gave him somewhat the air of a camel; his coat showed no recent acquaintance with the brush; and as he stood there sleepily in the sun, with one hind-leg hitched up, he did not present at all a picture to charm a lady’s eye. Nevertheless, he was, in fact, a reasonably well-made horse, a full black, fifteen and three-quarter hands high, sound, kind, and seven years old.

“He’s just horrid,” said my wife.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” said I; “that’s only a bad habit he has. We will soon cure him of such slovenly tricks. Just see what good points he has. His legs are a little long, to be sure, but they are broad, and have excellent hoofs; his breast is narrow, but then it is deep; and that large nostril was not given him for nothing. You will see he will run like a race-horse.”

“If you once get him started you can never stop him,” said my wife. “You know how he pulls, and how nervous he is. He will go till he drops. You are not strong enough to ride such a horse.”

“Oh, nonsense,” said I; “you can see that there is no mischief in him. Look what a kind eye he has! The fact is, horses are often very sensitive; and while this one may never have been cruelly treated, yet he has been misunderstood, and his feelings hurt a great many times a day. Human beings are the only things he seems afraid of. As for his awkward carriage, it is no worse than that of the farm hand who has made such a failure of trying to use him, and who is, nevertheless, when he stands up straight, a well-made, good-looking fellow. A little careful handling will make that animal as different from his present self as a dandified English sergeant is from the raw recruit he once was. What do you think of his name? It is Sambo.”

But my wife was not to be led off on any side question, and after intimating that such a plebeian appellation struck her as quite suitable, she continued; “Now you know that Mr. ----” (the farmer of whom I purchased) “knows a great deal more about horses than you do; you must admit that, for he has been buying and selling and driving them all his life, and he doesn’t like him, or he wouldn’t sell so cheap; and as for training him, for my part I don’t believe horse-training can be learned out of books, as a woman would learn a receipt for making cake. Do get him to take the horse back!”

Now I have a great respect for my wife’s opinion in general, and in this particular case all her points seemed well taken.

The horse was tall, and I was short; he was excitable, and I hadn’t the strength of a boy; he was very awkward, and I had never trained a horse in my life. However, I had been reading up a little on the subject, and feeling the confidence in myself which a very little knowledge is apt to impart, I was determined to try my hand.

I had remarked that there was a certain French system which was, in the several works I had consulted, always spoken of with respect as a complete and original method, so I obtained a copy of the book, in which is set forth the Méthode d’Équitation basée sur de nouveaux Principes, par F. Baucher, and having disentangled (no easy task) what was really practical from the enveloping mass of conceited sham scientific nonsense, I had numbered the margin so as to make a series of simple progressive lessons of half an hour each. The volume in question, which was not, by-the-bye, the present improved edition, I now produced in a somewhat dog-eared condition from under my arm. My wife, seeing that remonstrance was of no avail, took a seat on the veranda, so as to be ready to advise and assist, while my excellent friends, the farmer and his wife, came out “to see the circus,” as they said, and established themselves in suitable midsummer attitudes, with countenances of amused expectation.

“The first few lessons must be given on foot,” said I, and spreading my Baucher open upon the “horse-block,” I proceeded to carry out its first injunction by placing myself, with riding-whip under my arm, in front of the horse, which was already saddled and bridled, and “looking him kindly in the face.” He bore my gaze with equanimity, but when the riding-whip was produced he started violently; and when I raised my hand to pat his neck reassuringly he threw up his head and ran back. This evidently was not temper, but alarm. Clearly, moral suasion was not the kind that had been used with him hitherto. In plain English, he had been beaten on the head; and it was some time before he got over the impression made by such ill-treatment and ceased dodging at every sudden motion on my part.

However, a lump of sugar gave the poor fellow more confidence, and, avoiding all brusque movements, I went on to give him the first lesson of the Baucher series, viz., To Come to the Whip.

It is encouraging for beginners that this lesson, while producing conspicuous results, is in most cases very easy. In less than half an hour my audience was not a little surprised to see Sambo come to me at the slightest motion of the whip, and follow me about with neck arched, ears pricked up, and eyes lustrous with the unwonted pleasure of comprehending and voluntarily carrying out his master’s wishes.

“Well, that’s very pretty,” said the farmer; “but what’s the good of it?”

This criticism, it may be remarked, he continued to repeat at every step in the horse’s education. He did not “see the good” of a double bridle with two bits. He did not see the good of teaching the horse to relax the muscles of his jaw and to hold the bit lightly in the mouth. He did not see the good of suppling the various muscles of the neck, on which, nevertheless, depend to a surprising degree the balance of the whole body and the easy motion of the limbs. In fact, he maintained his attitude of amused and good-natured incredulity until one day, after about three weeks, I rode Sambo into the lawn, his neck arched and tail displayed, and, with the reins hanging on my little finger, made him cut circles and figure eights of all sizes at a spanking trot.

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