-21- 



temper was, I think, the result to a great extent of 

 teasing and bullying; Friendship's was horn with her. 

 The cob taught me a great deal; Friendship received 

 her entire education from me. 



I first saw her as an unnamed three-year-old in 

 Essex (she was bred in Ireland). she came up in the 

 most gentle and friendly way (she always had a kind and 

 confiding eye), and after letting me rub her nose, sud- 

 denly whipped round and lashed out. When she was four, 

 my Essex friend, for whom. I rode many young ones, wrote 

 and said they had begun to break her, but found her so 

 vicious that unless I cared to take her he would have 

 her shot. I consulted my stout-hearted groom, Peter 

 Grant, who seemed quite ready to take her on, so I sent 

 for her. 



I may say here that from first to last she remained 

 incurably vicious in the stable. no one could "do" her 

 but Grant, and, although she got very fond of him, she 

 broke his ribs at least once. Breaking her was not all 

 plain sailing, but she came to hand in time. She had 

 a perfect mouth and lovely paces, so she took very little 

 out of me, and luckily she never put me off, although 

 she tried very, very hard, and gave me many a rough seat. 

 This gave me confidence in the battles that were to come 

 out hunting, and helped to defeat her. My first refer- 

 ence to her in my hunting diary is in October 1894, 

 when, after telling of the doings of the Meynell hounds, 

 with whom I was hunting, I add: "Rode Friendship, who 

 went as badly as a horse can go." So it went on; some 

 days she would go fairly well, but more often she did 

 nothing but refuse, buck, and kick. At last things 

 came to a head. I had pretty well made up my mind to 

 give her up and send her for hounds to eat, and care- 

 lessly rode her at a very small fence close to a gate 

 people were going through. She refused, and I went 

 through the gate. I should not have done this unless 

 I had despaired of her, for riding at a fence so placed 

 is wrong, and letting off a refuser is worse, and I was 

 soon to have a practical lesson in the harm I had done. 

 We were striding nicely along in the very next field. 

 She was fresh and untired, the going was sound and horses 

 were galloping beside her. Suddenly she shut off steam 

 and stopped dead. I spurred her and she retaliated by 



