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.
[Illustration: PONY WITH FLAP-REINS.]
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.
[Illustration: YOUNG CHILD’S SADDLE.]
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.
[Illustration: “PLEADER” AND HIS MISTRESS.
_page 21._]
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._”
[Illustration: “THE PONY MIGHT FALL AS WELL AS THE BOY.”]