to the right
until you can see your horse's forefeet, but you would better not
perform the same exercise on the left side for the present, for
you might overbalance yourself and almost slip from the saddle.
If able, as you should be, to touch the floor with your
fingertips without bending your knees, this little movement will
be nothing to you, but do not bend to the left, Esmeralda. Why
not? Why, because if you will have the truth, you are slipping to
the left already, your right shoulder is drooping forward, and
your weight is hanging in your stirrup and pulling your saddle to
the left so forcibly that your horse has lost all respect for
you, and would be thoroughly uncomfortable, were it not that you
have forgotten all about your thumbs, and you have allowed your
reins to slip away from you, so that he is going where he
pleases, except when you jerk him sharply to the right, and then
he shakes and tosses his head and goes on contentedly, as one
saying, "All things have an end, even a new pupil's hour."

Now, sit well to the right, remembering the meal sack; shorten
your reins, keeping your elbows down and your hands low. Shorten
them a very little more, so as to bring your elbows further
forward. When you stop, you should not be compelled to jerk your
elbows back of your waist, but should bring them into line with
it, leaning back slightly, and drawing yourself upward. Stop your
horse now, for practice. Do not speak to him during your first
lessons, except by your master's express command, but address him
in his own language, using your reins, your foot, and your whip,
if your master permit. "Why do you make coquette of your horse?"
asked a French master of a pretty girl who was coaxingly calling
her mount "a naughty, horrid thing," and casting glances fit to
distract a man on the ungrateful creature's irresponsive crest.
"Your horse does not care anything at all about you; don't you
think he does!" pursued he, ungallantly. "You may coax me as much
as you like," said a Yankee teacher to a young woman who was
trying the "treat him kindly" theory, and was calling her horse a
"dear old ducky darling;" "and," he continued, "I'm rather fond
of candy myself, but it isn't coaxing or lump sugar that will
make that horse go. It's brains and reins and foot and whip."

When you have a horse of your own, talk to him as much as you
like, and teach him your language as an accomplishment, but
address the riding-school horse in