We had a couple of these fellows with
us, each leading a baggage-horse, to the tail of which last another
baggage-horse was attached. There was a world of trouble in
persuading the stiff angular portmanteaus of Europe to adapt
themselves to their new condition and sit quietly on pack-saddles,
but all was right at last, and it gladdened my eyes to see our
little troop file off through the winding lanes of the city, and
show down brightly in the plain beneath. The one of our party that
seemed to be most out of keeping with the rest of the scene was
Methley's Yorkshire servant, who always rode doggedly on in his
pantry jacket, looking out for "gentlemen's seats."
Methley and I had English saddles, but I think we should have done
just as well (I should certainly have seen more of the country) if
we had adopted saddles like that of our Tatar, who towered so
loftily over the scraggy little beast that carried him. In taking
thought for the East, whilst in England, I had made one capital hit
which you must not forget--I had brought with me a pair of common
spurs. These were a great comfort to me throughout my horseback
travels, by keeping up the cheerfulness of the many unhappy nags
that I had to bestride; the angle of the Oriental stirrup is a very
poor substitute for spurs.
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