Ginger and I were not of the regular tall carriage horse breed, we had
more of the racing blood in us. We stood about fifteen and a half hands
high; we were therefore just as good for riding as we were for driving,
and our master used to say that he disliked either horse or man that
could do but one thing; and as he did not want to show off in London
parks, he preferred a more active and useful kind of horse. As for us,
our greatest pleasure was when we were saddled for a riding party; the
master on Ginger, the mistress on me, and the young ladies on Sir Oliver
and Merrylegs. It was so cheerful to be trotting and cantering all
together that it always put us in high spirits. I had the best of it,
for I always carried the mistress; her weight was little, her voice was
sweet, and her hand was so light on the rein that I was guided almost
without feeling it.

Oh! if people knew what a comfort to horses a light hand is, and how it
keeps a good mouth and a good temper, they surely would not chuck, and
drag, and pull at the rein as they often do. Our mouths are so tender
that where they have not been spoiled or hardened with bad or ignorant
treatment, they feel the slightest movement of the driver's hand, and
we know in an instant what is required of us. My mouth has never been
spoiled, and I believe that was why the mistress preferred me to Ginger,
although her paces were certainly quite as good. She used often to envy
me, and said it was all the fault of breaking in, and the gag bit in
London, that her mouth was not so perfect as mine; and then old Sir
Oliver would say, "There, there! don't vex yourself; you have the
greatest honor; a mare that can carry a tall man of our master's weight,
with all your spring and sprightly action, does not need to hold her
head down because she does not carry the lady; we horses must take
things as they come, and always be contented and willing so long as we
are kindly used."