114 ROAD, TRACK, AND STABLE. 
supply no small amusement. Only the horse lover, 
indeed, can enjoy it to the full,—subtly communi- 
cating through rein and bit with his steed, appre- 
ciating the significant play of his ears, and rightly 
interpreting that lively, measured ring of his feet upon 
the road which indicates a sound and active stepper. 
But there are some incidental delights, such as the 
quick conveyance through fresh air and a passing 
glimpse of the scenery, which everybody enjoys. My 
old acquaintance would have thought but meanly of 
the man who gave a wish to view the country as his 
reason for driving; but then the Ed Hulbert standard 
cannot always be maintained, and something must be 
pardoned to the weakness of human nature. 
In a sense, every horse driven by the owner for 
pleasure is a road horse. The fast trotter who speeds 
up and down the Brighton or the Harlem road, draw- 
ing a single man in a gossamer wagon; the round, . 
short-legged cob; the big, respectable, phlegmatic 
Goddard-buggy animal, who may be seen in Boston 
any fine afternoon hauling a master very much like 
himself out over Beacon Street; the pretty, high- 
stepping pair in front of a mail phaeton;—all these 
are road horses, but none of them, excepting some- 
times the trotter, is a roadster in the strict sense. 
The road horse par excellence is a beast of medium 
size, who can draw a light carriage at the rate of 
seven miles an hour all day without tiring himself or 
his driver. He should be able to travel at least ten 
miles in an hour, twenty miles in two hours, sixty 
miles in a day; and by this is meant that he should 
do it comfortably and “handily,” as the term is, and 
feel none the worse for the exertion. Such roadsters 
