him," said I, "knowing his temper as you do?"

"Merely through forgetfulness, master. I was riding him about a month
ago, and having a stick in my hand, I struck him, thinking I was on
another horse, or rather thinking of nothing at all. He has never
forgiven me, though before that time he was the only friend I had in the
world; I should like to see you on him, master."

"I should soon be off him; I can't ride."

"Then you are all right, master; there's no fear. Trust him for not
hurting a young gentleman, an officer's son who can't ride. If you were
a blackguard dragoon, indeed, with long spurs, 'twere another thing; as
it is, he'll treat you as if he were the elder brother that loves you.
Ride! he'll soon teach you to ride, if you leave the matter with him.
He's the best riding master in all Ireland, and the gentlest."

The cob was led forth; what a tremendous creature! I had frequently seen
him before, and wondered at him; he was barely fifteen hands, but he had
the girth of a metropolitan dray-horse, his head was small in comparison
with his immense neck, which curved down nobly to his wide back. His
chest was broad and fine, and his shoulders models of symmetry and
strength; he stood well and powerfully upon his legs, which were somewhat
short. In a word, he was a gallant specimen of the genuine Irish cob, a
species at one time not uncommon, but at the present day nearly extinct.

"There!" said the groom, as he looked at him, half-admiringly,
half-sorrowfully, "with sixteen stone on his back, he'll trot fourteen
miles in one hour; with your nine stone, some two and half more, ay, and
clear a six-foot wall at the end of it."

"I'm half afraid," said I; "I had rather you would ride him."

"I'd rather so, too, if he would let me; but he remembers the blow. Now,
don't be afraid, young master, he's longing to go out himself. He's been
trampling with his feet these three days, and I know what that means;
he'll let anybody ride him but myself, and thank them; but to me he says,
'No! you struck me'".

"But," said I, "where's the saddle?"

"Never mind the saddle; if you are ever to be a frank rider, you must
begin without a saddle; besides, if he felt a saddle, he would think you
don't trust him, and leave you to yourself. Now, before you mount, make
his acquaintance--see there, how he kisses you and licks your face, and
see how he lifts his foot, that's to shake hands. You may trust him--now
you are on