CHAPTER XXIII. 



HORSE AND MAN. 



There is no mode of progression so delightful as 

 riding on horseback. Walking, rowing, bicycling 

 are pleasant exercises in their way, but the muscular 

 exertion and constant exercise of judgment they 

 call for occupy the mind partly to the exclusion of 

 other things; so that a long walk may sometimes 

 be only a long walk and nothing more. In riding 

 we are not conscious of exertion, and as for that 

 close observation and accurate discernment neces- 

 sary in traversing the ground with speed and safety, 

 it is left to the faithful servant that carries us. 

 Pitfalls, hillocks, slippery places, the thousand little 

 inequalities of the surface that have to be measured 

 with infallible eye, these disturb us little. To fly 

 or go slowly at will, to pass unshaken over rough 

 and smooth alike, fording rivers without being wet, 

 and mounting hills without climbing, this is indeed 

 unmixed delight. It is the nearest approach to 

 bird-life we seem capable of, since all the monster 

 bubbles and flying fabrics that have been the sport 

 of winds from the days of Montgolfier downwards 

 have brought us no nearer to it. The aeronaut 

 gasping for breath above the clouds offers only a 

 sad spectacle of the imbecility of science and man's 



