In about ten minutes’ time Theresa was ready. The horses were brought by the groom to the door: and my cousin mounted with fine grace. I, like a blockhead, clambered up the wrong side; but though my uncle, as well as the groom and Teazer, was looking, nobody laughed; and I had, therefore, the satisfaction of believing I had acquitted myself well. To my great relief the animal, under my weight, stood as motionless as a clothes’-horse. Teazer’s, on the other hand, began to dance, like one of your trained brutes at a circus, when the band strikes up. “Here’s a whip, sir,” said the groom. I jerked the reins, my uncle waved his hand, my horse broke into a trot (I into a perspiration), off went Teazer’s animal sideways, I watching the lateral beast with speechless anxiety, fearful every moment of running into him; we got out of the avenue into the high-road, and away we clattered--God help me!--under an Indian sun. Teazer kept ahead of me for some ten minutes, her horse being very nettlesome and restive, and defying her restraint. I had settled into a good solid trot, was growing used to the motion, and had no wish to gallop. However, Teazer slackened her pace after a little, and fell into a walk, which I thought uncommonly safe and agreeable. “Where would you like to go?” she asked. “Wherever you please.” “Shall we ride to Blenhall Abbey? We are on the road to it, and the ruins are well worth seeing.” “I shall be very glad.” Here her horse sprang forward, mine followed, and away we dashed at full gallop, I stooping my head like a hunchback to keep my hat on, and wondering what pleasure people could take in having their hearts shaken into their throats, and their midriffs into their boots. However, use will father other things besides those begot by sense; and before long I not only began to discover that swift motion was a sensation by no means disagreeable, but found courage to raise my head and attend to my cousin’s figure. Although, in spite of my fashionable and aristocratic prejudices, I knew almost nothing about riding, the stable, or the turf, I had a good eye for picturesque combinations and graceful movements, for small waists and easy attitudes. I was therefore qualified to admire Theresa on horseback, nor did I require to be told that she was a splendid horsewoman. Even her man’s hat could not deform the perfection of outline submitted to my following gaze by her noble figure. So much has been written about female riders, that all description of Theresa in the saddle would be supererogatory, and I will therefore save you a long account here by briefly referring you for full information on this important subject to the Entertaining Library of six shillings, two shillings, one shilling, and sixpenny novels to be found at all bookstalls and railway stations in town and country. “I am afraid you find it very hot,” said she, checking; her horse’s canter and dropping alongside of me.