_) Now, Mr.
SNIGGERS, make that 'orse learn 'oo's the master! [Mr. S. "He _knows_,
the brute!"]
_Mrs. B.-K._ He's very rude to all the Class, except dear ROBERT--but
then ROBERT has such a nice easy seat.
_The R.M._ Mr. BILBOW-KAY, Sir, try and set a bit closer. Why, you
ain't no more 'old on that saddle than a stamp with the gum licked
off! Can-ter! _You_'re all right, Mr. JOGGLES--it's on'y his play; set
down on your saddle, Sir!... I didn't say on the ground!
_Mrs. B.-K._ (_anxiously to her Son, as he passes_). BOB, are you
quite sure you're safe? (_To Friend._) His horse is snorting so
dreadfully!
_R.M._ 'Alt! Every Gentleman take his feet out of the stirrups,
and cross them on the saddle in front of him. Not your _feet_, Mr.
SNIGGERS, we ain't Turks 'ere!
_Mr. S._ (_sotto voce_). "There's _one_ bloomin' Turk 'ere, anyway!"
_R.M._ Now then,--Walk!... Trot! Set back, Gentlemen, set back
all--'old on by your knees, not the pommels. _I_ see you, Mr. JELLY,
kitchin' 'old o' the mane--I shall 'ave to give you a 'ogged 'orse
next time you come. Quicken up a bit--this is a ride, not a funeral.
Why, I could _roll_ faster than you're trotting! Lor, you're like a
row o' Guy Foxes on 'orseback, you are! Ah, I thought I'd see one
o' you orf! Goa-ron, all o' you, you don't come 'ere to _play_ at
ridin'--I'll make you ride afore I've done with you! 'Ullo, Mr.
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