them a gate, which I had not at first observed, into the bars of which had been wattled some brushwood. ‘The mare will see that,’ I said to myself. But the words were hardly through my mind, before I saw them fly over it like a bird. On the other side, she pulled up, and waited for me. Now I had never jumped a fence in my life. I did not know that my mare could do such a thing, for I had never given her the chance. I was not, and never have become, what would be considered an accomplished horseman. I scarcely know a word of stable-slang. I have never followed the hounds more than twice or three times in the course of my life. Not the less am I a true lover of horses--but I have been their companion more in work than in play. I have slept for miles on horseback, but even now I have not a sure seat over a fence. I knew nothing of the animal I rode, but I was bound, at least, to make the attempt to follow my leader. I was too inexperienced not to put him to his speed instead of going gently up to the gate; and I had a bad habit of leaning forward in my saddle, besides knowing nothing of how to incline myself backwards as the horse alighted. Hence when I found myself on the other side, it was not on my horse’s back, but on my own face. I rose uninjured, except in my self-esteem. I fear I was for the moment as much disconcerted as if I had been guilty of some moral fault. Nor did it help me much towards regaining my composure that Clara was shaking with suppressed laughter. Utterly stupid from mortification, I laid hold of my horse, which stood waiting for me beside the mare, and scrambled upon his back. But Clara, who, with all her fun, was far from being ill-natured, fancied from my silence that I was hurt. Her merriment vanished. With quite an anxious expression on her face, she drew to my side, saying-- ‘I hope you are not hurt?’ ‘Only my pride,’ I answered. ‘Never mind that,’ she returned gaily. ‘That will soon be itself again.’ ‘I’m not so sure,’ I rejoined. ‘To make such a fool of myself before _you_!’ ‘Am I such a formidable person?’ she said. ‘Yes,’ I answered. ‘But I never jumped a fence in my life before.’ ‘If you had been afraid,’ she said, ‘and had pulled up, I might have despised you. As it was, I only laughed at you. Where was the harm? You shirked nothing. You followed your leader. Come along, I will give you a lesson or two before we get back.’ ‘Thank you,’ I said, beginning to recover my spirits a little; ‘I shall be a most obedient pupil. But how did you get so clever, Clara?’ I ventured the unprotected name, and she took no notice of the liberty. ‘I told you I had had a riding-master. If you are not afraid, and mind what you are told, you will always come right somehow.’ ‘I suspect that is good advice for more than horsemanship.’ ‘I had not the slightest intention of moralizing. I am incapable of it,’ she answered, in a tone of serious self-defence.