ps, and that you may be able
to ride better next time, practice these exercises at home: Place
your knees together and heels together, adjust your shoulders,
hands, and arms as if you were in the saddle, and sit down as far
as possible, while keeping the legs vertical from the knee down.
Rise, counting "One," sink again, rise once more at "Two," and
continue through three measures, common time. Rest a minute and
repeat until you are a little weary. Nothing is gained by doing
too much work, but if you do just enough of this between lessons,
you cannot possibly grow stiff. When you can do it fairly well,
try to do it first on one foot and then on the other, and then
bring your right foot in front of your left knee, and, standing
on your left foot, assume, as nearly as possibly, the proper
position for the saddle, and try to rise in time. You will not
find it very difficult, and you will be compelled to keep your
heel down while doing it, especially if you put a block about an
inch thick under your left tow. You may try doing it while
sitting sidewise in a chair, if it be difficult for you to poise
yourself on one foot, but a girl who cannot stand thus for some
time, long enough to lace her riding boot, for instance, is much
too weak for her own good.

Take all your spare minutes for this work, Esmeralda. Bob up and
down in all the secluded corners of the house; try to feel the
motion in the horse-cars--it will not need much effort in many
of them. And if you want to be comfortable in a herdic, sit
sidewise and pretend that the seat is a horse. This is Mr.
Hurlburt's rule for riding in an Irish "outside car." In short,
while taking your first riding-lessons, walk, sit, and think to
the tune of

"One, two, three, four!
Near the wall,
Make him trot;
You cannot fall!"

IV.

The Horse does not attempt to fly;
He knows his powers, and so should I.
_Spurgeon_.

Wilful will to water, eh, Esmeralda? You are determined to appear
in that riding party after your third lesson, and you think that
you "will look no worse than a great many others." Undoubtedly,
that is true, and more's the pity, but, since you will go, let us
make the most of the third lesson, and trust that you will return
in a whole piece, like Henry Clay's pie.

You do not see why there is any more danger on the road than in
the ring, and you have never been thrown! It would be unkind, in
the face of that "never," to re