[Illustration: 190]
IT is a great anxiety keeping a stud. The horse is a delicate animal and
needs a lot of looking after. Just ask Roger if it does n’t!
He is busy now grooming his noble chestnut, which would be the pearl of
wooden horses, the flower of the Black Forest stud-farms, if only he had
not lost half his tail in battle. Roger would so like to know whether
wooden horses’ tails grow again.
After rubbing them down in fancy, Roger gives his horses an imaginary
feed of oats. That is the proper way to feed these elfin creatures of
wood on whose backs little boys gallop through the land of dreams.
Now Roger is off for his ride, mounted on his mettled charger. The poor
beast has no ears left and his mane is all notched like an old broken
comb; but Roger loves him. Why it would be hard to say! This bay was
the gift of a poor man; and the presents of the poor are somehow sweeter
perhaps than any others.
Roger is off. He has ridden far. The flowers of the carpet are the
blossoms of the tropical forest. Good luck to you, little Roger! May
your hobby-horse carry you happily through the world! May you never have
a more dangerous mount! Small and great, we all ride ours! Which of us
has not his hobby?
Men’s hobbies gallop like mad things along the roads of life; one is
chasing glory, another pleasure; many leap over precipices and break
their rider’s neck. I wish you luck, little Roger, and I hope, when
you are a man, you will bestride two hobbies that will always carry you
along the right road; one is spirited, the other gentle-tempered; they
are both noble steeds; one is called Courage and the other Kindness.