18 WHIP AND SPUR. 



whalebone legs of my own, worked by steel 

 muscles in accordance with my will, but with- 

 out even a conscious effort of will. 



That that anatomy of a horse should so easily, 

 so playfully, handle my heavy weight was a 

 mystery, and is a mystery still. She carried 

 me in the same high, long-reaching, elastic trot 

 that we sometimes see a young horse strike when 

 first turned into a field. A low fence was near 

 by, and I turned her toward it. She cleared it 

 with a bound that sent all my blood thrilling 

 through my veins, and trotted on again as though 

 nothing had occurred. The five minutes' turn 

 was taken with so much ease, with such evident 

 delight, that I made it a virtue to indulge her 

 with a longer course and a longer stride. We 

 went to the far corners of the Park, and tried all 

 our paces; all were marvellous for the power so 

 easily exerted and the evident power in reserve. 



Yes, Frank Forester was right, blood horses are 

 made of finer stuff than others. My intention of 

 giving the poor old mare a month's rest was never 

 carried out, because each return to her old recrea- 



