Early in the spring, Lord W---- and part of his family went up to
London, and took York with them. I and Ginger and some other horses were
left at home for use, and the head groom was left in charge.

The Lady Harriet, who remained at the hall, was a great invalid, and
never went out in the carriage, and the Lady Anne preferred riding on
horseback with her brother or cousins. She was a perfect horsewoman, and
as gay and gentle as she was beautiful. She chose me for her horse, and
named me "Black Auster". I enjoyed these rides very much in the clear
cold air, sometimes with Ginger, sometimes with Lizzie. This Lizzie was
a bright bay mare, almost thoroughbred, and a great favorite with the
gentlemen, on account of her fine action and lively spirit; but Ginger,
who knew more of her than I did, told me she was rather nervous.

There was a gentleman of the name of Blantyre staying at the hall;
he always rode Lizzie, and praised her so much that one day Lady Anne
ordered the side-saddle to be put on her, and the other saddle on me.
When we came to the door the gentleman seemed very uneasy.

"How is this?" he said. "Are you tired of your good Black Auster?"

"Oh, no, not at all," she replied, "but I am amiable enough to let you
ride him for once, and I will try your charming Lizzie. You must confess
that in size and appearance she is far more like a lady's horse than my
own favorite."

"Do let me advise you not to mount her," he said; "she is a charming
creature, but she is too nervous for a lady. I assure you, she is not
perfectly safe; let me beg you to have the saddles changed."