People may talk of first love--it is a very agreeable event, I dare say--but give me the flush, and triumph, and glorious sweat of a first ride, like mine on the mighty cob! My whole frame was shaken, it is true; and during one long week I could hardly move foot or hand; but what of that?
By that one trial I had become free, as I may say, of the whole equine species.

No more fatigue, no more stiffness of joints, after that first ride round the Devil's Hill on the cob.
Oh, that cob; that Irish cob!--may the sod lie lightly over the bones of the strongest, speediest, and most gallant of its kind! Oh! the days when, issuing from the barrack-gate of Templemore, we commenced our hurry-skurry just as inclination led--now across the fields--direct over stone walls and running brooks--mere pastime for the cob!--sometimes along the road to Thurles and Holy Cross, even to distant Cahir!--what was distance to the cob?
It was thus that the passion for the equine race was first awakened within me--a passion which, up to the present time, has been rather on the increase than diminishing.

It is no blind passion; the horse being a noble and generous creature, intended by the All-Wise to be the helper and friend of man, to whom he stands next in the order of creation.

On many occasions of my life I have been much indebted to the horse, and have found in him a friend and coadjutor, when human help and sympathy were not to be obtained.

It is therefore natural enough that I should love the horse; but the love which I entertain for him has always been blended with respect; for I soon perceived that, though disposed to be the friend and helper of man, he is by no means inclined to be his slave; in which respect he differs from the dog, who will crouch when beaten; whereas the horse spurns, for he is aware of his own worth, and that he carries death within the horn of his heel.