It must be admitted, nevertheless, that the pit-ponies are the less fortunate class of Shetlanders, and that the pleasanter career belongs to those which are selected for what appears to be the natural office of the pony—that of the child’s first mount. This is no new occupation for him. A letter, dated 1737, from “Mellerstains” to the writer’s brother in Bressay, runs: “In several of my letters I have told you that Lady Binning’s children are from home on account of their Education, so that a Horse would now be of no use as they’l be grown up before they settle here again,”[50]—a gift-horse, apparently, somewhat brusquely declined. Sixty years later a manuscript note, dated 1800, appended to a copy of Campbell’s ‘Political Survey of Great Britain’ (1774), bears that: “Yoked sometimes to the equipages of the Nobility, they have attracted the notice of ye metropolis.”[51] We find the Sheltie, therefore, more than a hundred years ago in favour as a luxury, and nearly two hundred years ago recognised as a child’s pony. The pages of ‘Punch’ in the last century bear constant witness to its popularity for this purpose; and this could hardly be otherwise, for a child and a Shetland pony are an inevitable combination. Not that the pony requires so slight a burden; for it is not any ordinary weight of full-grown humanity, but only length of limb, that prevents the adult from riding it, as the Dutch seamen used to do in Shetland in spite of this drawback.[52] But the pony attracts the child as no large horse can; and it is the ideal mount for early years. Its disposition is its first and greatest recommendation; for, while of coarse there are exceptions, generally the Shetland pony is so wise and kind and docile that it almost teaches the child to ride. Its manageable size and its admirable nearness to the ground promote the confidence which is the beginning of equestrian wisdom; and it never shatters or impairs that confidence by stumbling. This, indeed, is a qualification that is of capital importance. A pony that falls is of course an impossible mount for a child; but one that stumbles is scarcely better, since it constantly suggests the possibility of falling before experience and practice have neutralised fear. The breadth and strength and balance of a good Shetland pony make it the surest-footed of all riding animals. Theorists, without a fact to shelter themselves with, have alleged a danger to the health of children from sitting astride the big barrel of the pony, but the answer to them is quite simple. Their fears are imaginary, for they can produce no justifying instance; and anything less wide than the Shetland pony—in actual cross-measurement—would, owing to narrowness of chest, be an unsafe and stumbling mount: so long as men ride, the Shetland pony will be the most valued and most valuable possession of the child happy enough to own it. But, to be the perfect child’s hack or hunter, the Shetland pony must be bred as