52 IN THE BIDING-SCHOOL. 



off a pace or two, one of the assistant masters 

 puts you in the saddle, and before the groom 

 lets Master Charlie's head go, your master says, 

 easily : " Leave his reins pretty long, especially 

 the right one. Put your left knee close against 

 the pommel ; don't try to rise until I tell you. 

 Ready. Now." 



You feel as if you were in a transformation 

 scene at the theatre. The windows of the ring 

 seem to run into one another, and at very short 

 intervals you catch a glimpse in the mirror of 

 a young woman, in a familiar looking Norfolk 

 jacket, sitting with her elbows as far behind her 

 as if held there by the Austrian plan of running 

 a broomstick in front of the arms and behind 

 the waist. 



On and on ! You earnestly wish to stop, but 

 are ashamed to say so. Close at your right 

 hand, pace for pace with you, rides your master, 

 keeping up an unbroken fire of brief ejacula- 

 tion : " Hands a little lower ! Arms close to 

 the side ! Shoulders square ! Square ! Draw 

 your right shoulder backward and upward ! 

 Now down with your right elbow ! Don't pull 

 on the right rein ! Don't lift your hands ! 

 You'll make him go faster ! " 



