now why he is punished. He naturally
connects any pressure of the mouth-piece on the bars of his mouth with
the idea of pain, from which he tries to escape by throwing up his head.
Hence, instead of going freely up to his bit, and thus putting himself
in touch with his rider, he will fight against it and will be
unpleasant, if not dangerous, to ride.

There have been many funny books written about horsemanship! In a very
incompetent book on this subject, the author states: "In riding, if a
horse does not nag himself properly, take short hold of the reins with
your left hand, lean back in the saddle, with a light whip or stick give
him three or four strokes right and left down his shoulders, at the same
time holding the reins tight so that he does not go from under you; he
will soon alter his pace. That requires practice, with nerve and
judgment." I think that a person who would be guilty of such a display
of "nerve and judgment" deserves similar punishment with the whip. It is
in the hands of such men that horses earn the reputation of being
bad-tempered. This writer also tells us "not to give water before
feeding, as it weakens the saliva in a horse's mouth!" Whyte Melville
owed his success in horse management to the adoption of kind and humane
methods. All those who have broken and ridden young horses know how
thoroughly sound is his advice:--"From the day you slip a halter over
his ears he should be encouraged to look to you, like a child, for all
his little wants and simple pleasures. He should come cantering up from
the farthest corner in the paddock when he hears your voice, should ask
to have his nose rubbed, his head stroked, his neck patted, with those
honest pleading looks which will make the confidence of a dumb creature
so touching; and before a roller has been put on his back, or a snaffle
in his mouth, he should be convinced that everything you do to him is
right, and that it is impossible for _you_, his best friend, to cause
him the least uneasiness or harm.

"I once owned a mare that would push her nose into my pockets in search
of bread and sugar, would lick my face and hands like a dog, or suffer
me to cling to any part of her limbs and body while she stood perfectly
motionless. On one occasion, when I hung up in the stirrup after a fall,
she never stirred on rising, till by a succession of laborious and
ludicrous efforts I could swing myself back into the saddle, with my
foot still fast, though hound