Trust him for not hurting a young gentleman, an officer's son, who can't ride.

If you were a blackguard dragoon, indeed, with long spurs, 'twere another thing; as it is, he'll treat you as if he were the elder brother that loves you.
Ride! he'll soon teach you to ride, if you leave the matter with him.
He's the best riding master in all Ireland, and the gentlest." The cob was led forth; what a tremendous creature! I had frequently seen him before, and wondered at him; he was barely fifteen hands, but he had the girth of a metropolitan dray-horse; his head was small in comparison with his immense neck, which curved down nobly to his wide back: his chest was broad and fine, and his shoulders models of symmetry and strength; he stood well and powerfully upon his legs, which were somewhat short.

In a word, he was a gallant specimen of the genuine Irish cob, a species at one time not uncommon, but at the present day nearly extinct.
"There!" said the groom, as he looked at him, half-admiringly, half sorrowfully, "with sixteen stone on his back, he'll trot fourteen miles in one hour, with your nine stone, some two and a half more, ay, and clear a six-foot wall at the end of it." "I'm half afraid," said I; "I had rather you would ride him." "I'd rather so, too, if he would let me; but he remembers the blow.

Now, don't be afraid, young master, he's longing to go out himself.

He's been trampling with his feet these three days, and I know what that means; he'll let anybody ride him but myself, and thank them; but to me he says, 'No! you struck me.'" "But," said I, "where's the saddle ?" "Never mind the saddle; if you are ever to be a frank rider, you must begin without a saddle; besides, if he felt a saddle, he would think you don't trust him, and leave you to yourself.