THE HORRORS OV HORSEMANSHIP. 
513 
place a few days ago; and it is the irritability of niy feelings, still 
writhing under the influence of the chagrin and vexation expe¬ 
rienced on that occasion, which have, it may be unadvisedly, 
impelled me thus to avow and record in black and white my 
downright and unqualified horror of horsemanship. I happened 
to go last Thursday on a visit to a friend of mine, who lives in 
the country. There were several guests beside myself. On the 
morning after I arrived, whilst we were at breakfast, M., whose 
study it is to make his house pleasant, asked, half singing in his 
burlesque manner the words of Moore’s melody, ^‘Well, what 
shall be our sport to-day?” Various pastimes and methods of 
“killing the enemy” were proposed. Some were rejected,others 
ratified; but what was my alarm, when, upon settling the “order of 
the course,” I heard that I was to form one of the equestrian party. 
The party presently rose. The ladies were equipped with the 
most unaccountable alacrity in their riding habits. Presently 
we heard the tramping of hoofs, and the “ clearing off,” which 
horses generally indulge in when leaving the stables; sounds 
awful to my ears. I began to get a little faint. Equestrians, 
turn out,” said M. Come,” addressing me, have you your 
spurs on? You must wear a pair of scythes on your heels to 
make ‘ Big Sam’ go on.” I retired to my room for a few mo¬ 
ments, apparently to get my spurs (I never dreamt of wearing 
those frightful weapons, more fatal in my eyes than sword or 
pistol), but really to tranquillize the palpitation I found rising in 
my bosom. A few moments were all that were afforded me for 
this purpose. The servant soon knocked at my chamber door— 
Horses are waiting, sir.” I marvelled at his unperturbed air. 
He appeared to mention quite an ordinary occurrence. “ Very 
well,” said I, calmly ; and putting on my hat, and, at the same 
time, all the mock fortitude I could muster, I followed the ser¬ 
vant down stairs, endeavouring the while to still the tumults of 
my breast, and singing with as nonchalant an air as my trepida¬ 
tion would allow— 
‘‘ He loves and he rides away .’' 
“ Come, we wait for you,” said M.; “ while you are singing, 
time flies.” 
“ And he leap’d on the courser’s back,” 
continued I, quavering. 
“ Do, then, leap on your courser’s back,” said M., pointing to 
a huge black monster with an arched neck, like one of the Ajn 3 n- 
nines; a ponderous carcass, which resembled a newly disco¬ 
vered continent, and legs !—simile docs not furnish me with an 
illustration of sufficient capacity to describe his legs. 
