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Updated: May 16, 2025
It was a hunting county, and the ladies rode well; square seat, light hand on the snaffle, the curb reserved for cases of necessity; and, when they had patted the horse on the neck at starting, as all these coaxing creatures must, they rode him with that well-bred ease and unconsciousness of being on a horse which distinguishes ladies who have ridden all their lives from the gawky snobbesses in Hyde Park, who ride, if riding it can be called, with their elbows uncouthly fastened to their sides as if by a rope, their hands at the pit of their stomachs, and both those hands, as heavy as a housemaid's, sawing the poor horse with curb and snaffle at once, while the whole body breathes pretension and affectation, and seems to say, "Look at me; I am on horseback!
"No doubt! no doubt!" said she, a little crossly. She added with one of her gushes of naivete, "and I shall be unhappy too if you go and displease mamma." "What could I do? A gang of snobbesses were detracting from somebody. To speak plainly, they were running down the loveliest of her sex. Your mamma told me to keep quiet.
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