INTRODUCTION. 



In the world where the horse lives there is 

 one god. This god is only a human creature, 

 soldier by trade, stockrider, groom, or dray- 

 man, but from him all things proceed. So far 

 as the horse knows his god made the girth gall 

 and the harness, the oats and the weather, and 

 most certainly provides a lump of salt to lick, 

 a canter over turf, of any other little scrap of 

 Heaven which falls into the world. So he 

 hates his god or loves him, fears or trusts him, 

 trying always to believe in him, even if he has 

 at times to kick the deity to make sure he is 

 really divine. His religion, his conduct, his 

 whole value, depend upon that poor god, who 

 is usually well-meaning enough although wont 

 to practise a deal of ignorance. To get better 

 horses one must improve the strain of gods. 



As a god to horses I was never quite a success, 

 however hard I tried to live up to a difficult 

 situation. I attempted, for example, to learn 

 about my horses from scientific books, yet 

 found the scientific writer rather trying. He 

 calls an animal who never injured him by sueh 

 a name as Pachynolophus. This may be safe 



