exercise on the left side for the present, for you might overbalance yourself and almost slip from the saddle.  If able, as you should be, to touch the floor with your fingertips without bending your knees, this little movement will be nothing to you, but do not bend to the left, Esmeralda.  Why not?  Why, because if you will have the truth, you are slipping to the left already, your right shoulder is drooping forward, and your weight is hanging in your stirrup and pulling your saddle to the left so forcibly that your horse has lost all respect for you, and would be thoroughly uncomfortable, were it not that you have forgotten all about your thumbs, and you have allowed your reins to slip away from you, so that he is going where he pleases, except when you jerk him sharply to the right, and then he shakes and tosses his head and goes on contentedly, as one saying, “All things have an end, even a new pupil’s hour.”

Now, sit well to the right, remembering the meal sack; shorten your reins, keeping your elbows down and your hands low.  Shorten them a very little more, so as to bring your elbows further forward.  When you stop, you should not be compelled to jerk your elbows back of your waist, but should bring them into line with it, leaning back slightly, and drawing yourself upward.  Stop your horse now, for practice.  Do not speak to him during your first lessons, except by your master’s express command, but address him in his own language, using your reins, your foot, and your whip, if your master permit.  “Why do you make coquette of your horse?” asked a French master of a pretty girl who was coaxingly calling her mount “a naughty, horrid thing,” and casting glances fit to distract a man on the ungrateful creature’s irresponsive crest.  “Your horse does not care anything at all about you; don’t you think he does!” pursued he, ungallantly.  “You may coax me as much as you like,” said a Yankee teacher to a young woman who was trying the “treat him kindly” theory, and was calling her horse a “dear old ducky darling;” “and,” he continued, “I’m rather fond of candy myself, but it isn’t coaxing or lump sugar that will make that horse go.  It’s brains and reins and foot and whip.”

When you have a horse of your own, talk to him as much as you like, and teach him your language as an accomplishment, but address the riding-school horse in his own tongue, until you have mastered it yourself.

Now, adjust yourself carefully, lean forward, extend your hands a very little, touch your horse with your left heel, and, as soon as he moves, sit erect and let your hands resume their position.  Hasten his steps until he is almost trotting, before you strike him with the whip.  You can do this by very slightly opening and shutting your fingers in time with the slight pull which he gives with his head at every step, by touches with your heel, and by touches, not blows, with the whip, and by allowing yourself, not to rise, but to sit a little lighter with each step.