The Horse, as Comrade and Friend 



Whenever there is any expectation of any 

 sort of difficulty or trouble, always do the 

 oblique thing. It is so much quicker in the 

 end. Now what you want him to do is to 

 come out of the light into a dark doorway, on 

 to dimly seen clattering bricks, into what 

 appears to him impenetrable gloom, peopled 

 to a certainty with every kind of equine bogey 

 and hobgoblin. 



The usual groom's unthinking way would 

 be to hang on to halter, speak soothingly to 

 him, and get the boys to try to drive him in 

 with shouts and a whijo behind. Naturally 

 there would be trouble of the severest kind. 

 The horse, until a few days ago, was unhandled 

 and wild ; and, the moment he felt coercion, 

 every hereditary instinct of fear would in- 

 stantly blaze up, and he would concentrate 

 every effort of which he was capable to get 

 away from that terrible place. Even if, by 

 brute force, he was got in, and nothing more 

 happened to him, the shock to his nerves 

 would be great, and half the good of your 

 previous training would be dissipated right 

 there. He would be nervous for hours after- 

 wards, and the disastrous effects would be 

 visible in an immediate alteration in his demean- 

 our to you, not only when you followed him 

 into the stable, but again when you got him 

 outside. Even if you were not present and 

 were miles away, you can always tell when a 



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