The same sort of what I can scarcely help terming “instinct” that has often taught me, and doubtless hundreds of other practical horsemen, to meet the whims of their steeds so as to suit themselves, produced a victory somewhat similar to the foregoing over an animal that, in the presence of a large assemblage interested in his performance, most determinedly refused to _trot_, though ridden successively by the most skilled nagsmen Dycer’s yard could produce, as well as by Dycer himself.
I proposed to try my hand, and the animal at first start pursued the same uneasy half-canter with me; but perceiving that he seemed particularly desirous to take a drink from a trough that happened to be in the way, I allowed his attention to be distracted by taking as much water as he pleased from it; and then turning him in the opposite direction from that in which he had so obstinately persisted in his own gait, patting and doing all I could to reassure him, dropping the bit-rein altogether, and taking a very light and lengthened hold of the snaffle-rein, I let him move off at his own pace, which, to the surprise of every one present (my own, I admit, included), proved to be a walk, which he immediately changed into a jog-trot all up the yard, winning for me a bet of twenty sovereigns to one from the late Edward Dycer, that the horse could not be made to trot within a quarter of an hour of the rider mounting.
Now, it is only caprice that can account for the likes and dislikes of horses about going lead or wheel in four-in-hand. One horse will not stir till removed from the wheel, and another will be equally unmanageable if assigned the leader’s part, while an exchange of places will perhaps render both animals perfectly tractable.
In double harness it may sometimes be observed that an animal, while working by itself, or with others not faster, will casually show great spirit, but when coupled with another possessing more life and action, it will seem at once subdued from its former liveliness, and go along like a slug, quite out of sorts at finding itself outpaced, &c., while its more sprightly neighbour will exhibit a double ebullition of spirits, as if in reproach to say, “Why can’t you come on?” To prove such cases of whimsicality further, replace the apparent sluggard by coupling with our vivacious steed a more lively and active animal, and you will see the latter in his turn become subdued and “shut up,” in comparison with his previous sprightliness.