rce or frighten a colt into the stable, but
to edge him into it quietly, and cause him to glide in of his own
accord. In this simple operation, the horse-trainer will test himself
the indispensable quality of a horse trainer--_patience_. A word I shall
have to repeat until my readers are almost heartily sick of the
"_damnable iteration_." There is a world of equestrian wisdom in two
sentences of the chapter just quoted, "he will not run unless you run
after him," and "the horse has not studied anatomy."

The observations about rope halters are very sound, and in addition I
may add, that the mouths of hundreds of horses are spoiled by the
practice of passing a looped rope round the lower jaw of a fiery horse,
which the rider often makes the stay for keeping himself in his seat.

The best kind of head-stall for training colts is that delineated at the
head of this chapter,[48-*] called the Bush Bridle, to which any kind of
bit may be attached, and by unbuckling the bit it is converted into a
capital halter, with a rope for leading a colt or picketing a horse at
night.

The long rope is exactly what Mr. Rarey recommends for teaching a colt
to lead. Every one of any experience will agree that "a horse that has
once pulled on his halter can never be so well broken as one that has
never pulled at all."

The directions for stroking and patting the body and limbs of a colt
are curious, as proving that an operation which we have been in the
habit of performing as a matter of course without attaching any
particular virtue to it, has really a sort of mesmeric effect in
soothing and conciliating a nervous animal. The directions in Chapter V.
for approaching a colt deserve to be studied very minutely, remembering
always the maxim printed at p. 57--_Fear and anger, a good horseman
should never feel._

It took Mr. Rarey himself two hours to halter a savage half-broken colt
in Liverpool, but then he had the disadvantage of being surrounded by an
impatient whispering circle of spectators. At Lord Poltimore's seat in
Devonshire, in February last (1858), Lord Rivers was two hours alone
with a very sulky biting colt, but finally succeeded in haltering and
saddling him. Yet his lordship had only seen one lesson illustrated on a
very difficult horse at the Duke of Wellington's school. But this
operation is much more easily described than executed, because some
colts will smell at your hand one moment, and turn round as quick as
lightni