the least labor should be expected of him. The tiny girls who
ride him call him "dear old Billy Buttons," or "darling Gypsy,"
or "nice Sir Archer." Heaven knows what he calls them in his
heart! Were he human, it would be something to be expressed by
dashes and "d's"; but, being a horse, he is silent, and shows his
feelings principally by heading for the mounting-stand whenever
he thinks that a pupil's hour is at an end.

Why that long face, Esmeralda? Must you do all those exercises?
Bless your innocent soul, no! Dress yourself and run away. The
exercises will be good for you, but they are not absolutely
necessary. Remember, however, that your best riding-school master
is behind your own pretty forehead, and that your brain can save
your muscles many a strain and many a pound of labor. And
remember, too, that, in riding, as in everything else, to him
that hath shall be given, and the harder and firmer your muscles
when you begin, the greater will be the benefit which you will
derive from your rides, and the more you will enjoy them. The
pale and weary invalid may gain flesh and color with every
lesson, but the bright and healthy pupil, whose muscles are
like iron, whose heart and lungs are in perfect order, can
ride for hours without weariness, and double her strength in
a comparatively short time.

But--Esmeralda, dear, before you go--whisper! Why do you want
to take riding lessons? Theodore asked you to go out with him
next Monday, and Nell said that she would lend you her habit, and
you thought that you would take three lessons and learn to ride?
There, go and dress, child; go and dress!