CHAPTER XXIII. 
HORSE AND MAN. 
THERE 1s nO mode of progression so delightful as 
riding on horseback. Walking, rowing, bicycling 
are pleasant exercises in their way, but the muscular 
exertion and constant exercise of judgment they 
call for occupy the mind partly to the exclusion of 
other things; so that a long walk may sometimes 
be only a long walk and nothing more. In riding 
we are not conscious of exertion, and as for that 
close observation and accurate discernment neces- 
sary in traversing the ground with speed and safety, 
it is left to the faithful servant that carries us. 
Pitfalls, hillocks, shppery places, the thousand little 
inequalities of the surface that have to be measured 
with infallible eye, these disturb us little. To fly 
or go slowly at will, to pass unshaken over rough 
and smooth alike, fording rivers without being wet, 
and mounting hills without climbing, this is indeed 
unmixed delight. It is the nearest approach to 
bird-life we seem capable of, since all the monster 
bubbles and flying fabrics that have been the sport 
of winds from the days of Montgolfier downwards 
have brought us no nearer to it. The aeronaut 
gasping for breath above the clouds offers only a 
sad spectacle of the imbecility of science and man’s 
