108 IN THE HIDING-SCHOOL. 



And then, seeing Theodore perfectly un- 

 moved, your master tells of the military music 

 rides when, rank after rank, the soldiers dash 

 across the wide spaces of the school and stop 

 at a word, or by a preconcerted, silent signal, 

 every horse's head in line, every left hand down, 

 sabre or lance exactly poised, every foot motion- 

 less, horse and rider still as if wrought from 

 bronze. And then he tells of the labyrinthine 

 evolutions when the long line moving over the 

 school floor coils and uncoils itself more swiftly 

 than any serpent, each horse moving at speed, 

 each one obeying as implicitly as any creature 

 of brass and iron moved by steam. And then he 

 talks of broadsword fights, in which the left 

 hand, managing the horse, outdoes the cunning 

 of the right, and of the great reviews, when, if 

 ever, a monarch must feel his power as he 

 sees the squadrons dash past him, saluting as 

 one man, and reflects on the expenditure of 

 mental and physical power represented in that 

 one moment's display. 



" You can't learn to do such things as these," 

 he says, "by mere rough riding. Why, only 

 the other day, when Queen Victoria went to 



