never took any pupils, and, as far as I can learn, never attempted to train colts by his method, although that is a more profitable and useful branch of business than training vicious horses. It is stated in an article in “Household Words” on Horse-Tamers, that he was so jealous of his gift that even the priest of Ballyclough could not wring it from him at the confessional. His son used to boast how his reverence met his sire as they both rode towards Mallow, and charged him with being a confederate of the wicked one, and how the “whisperer” laid the priest’s horse under a spell, and forthwith led him a weary chase among the cross roads, till he promised in despair to let Sullivan alone for ever. Sullivan left three sons: one only practised his art, with imperfect success till his death; neither of the others pretended to any knowledge of it. One of them is to this day a horse-breaker at Mallow.

The reputation of Mr. Rarey brought to light a number of provincial horse-tamers, and, amongst others, a grandson of Sullivan has opened a list under the auspices of the Marquis of Waterford, for teaching his grandfather’s art of horse-taming. It is impossible not to ask, why, if the art is of any value, it has not been taught long ago?

In Ireland as in England, the accepted modes of taming a determined colt, or vicious horse, are either by a resolute rider with whip and spur, and violent longeings, or by starving, physic, and sleepless nights. It was by these means combined that the well-known horseman, Bartley the bootmaker, twenty years ago, tamed a splendid thorough-bred horse, that had defied all the efforts of all the rough-riders of the Household Cavalry regiments.

Bleeding a vicious horse has been recommended in German books on equitation. In the family Robinson Crusoe, paterfamilias conquers the quagga by biting its ear, and every farrier knows how to apply a twitch to a horse’s ear or nose to secure his quietness under an operation. A Mr. King, some years since, exhibited a learned horse, which he said he subdued by pinching a nerve of its mouth, called “the nerve of susceptibility.”

The writer in the “Household Words” article, to which I have already referred, tells how “a coachman in Kent, who had been quite mastered by horses, called in the assistance of a professed whisperer. After his ghostly course the horses had the worst of it for two months, when their ill-humour returned, and the coachman himself immediately darkened his stable, and held what he termed a little conversation with them, which kept them placid till two more months had passed. He did not seem altogether to approve of the system, and plainly confessed that it was cruel.” Putting shot in the ear is an old stupid and fatal trick of ignorant carters to cure a gibbing horse—it cures and kills him too.

The latest instantaneous system which acquired a certain degree of temporary popularity was that introduced from the western prairies, by Mr. Ellis, of Trinity College, Cambridge, which consisted in breathing into the nostrils of a colt, or buffalo colt, while its eyes were covered. But although on some animals this seemed to produce a soothing effect, on others it totally failed.

There can be very little doubt that most of the mysterious “horse-whisperers” relied for their power of subduing a vicious horse partly on the special personal influence already referred to, and partly on some one of those cruel modes of intimidating the animal. It has been observed that idiots can sometimes manage the most savage horses and bulls, and conciliate the most savage dogs at first sight.

The value of Mr. Rarey’s system consists in the fact that it may be taught to, and successfully practised by, a ploughboy of thirteen or fourteen for use on all except extremely vicious and powerful horses.

It requires patience—it requires the habit of dealing with horses as well as coolness; but the real work is rather a matter of skill than strength. Not only have boys of five or six stone become successful horse-tamers, but ladies of high rank have in the course of ten minutes perfectly subdued and reduced to death-like calmness fiery blood-horses.

Therefore, in dealing with Mr. Rarey’s plan we are not wasting our time about a trick for conquering these rare exceptions—incurably-savage horses—but considering the principles of a universally applicable system for taming and training horses for man’s use, with a perfection of docility rarely found except in aged pet horses, and with a rapidity heretofore quite unknown.

The system of Arabia and Australia are the two extremes. In Australia, where the people are always in a hurry, the usual mode of breaking in the bush horses is to ride them quiet; that is, to let the man fight it out with the horse until the latter gives in; for the time, at any rate. The result is, that nine-tenths of the Australian horses are vicious, and especially given to the trick of “buck-jumping.” This vile vice consists in a succession of leaps from all-fours, the beast descending with the back arched, the limbs rigid, and the head as low down between the legs as possible. Not one horseman in a hundred can sit three jumps of a confirmed buck-jumper. Charles Barter, who was one of the hardest riders in the Heythrope Hunt, in his “Six Months in Natal,” says, “when my horse began buck-jumping I dismounted, and I recommend every one under the same circumstances to do the same.”

The Guachos on the South American Pampas lasso a wild horse, throw him down, cover his head with one of their ponchos, or cloaks, and, having girthed on him one of their heavy demi-piqued saddles, from which it is almost impossible to be dislodged, thrust a curb-bit, capable of breaking the jaw with one tug, into the poor wretch’s mouth, mount him with a pair of spurs with rowels six inches long, and ride him over the treeless plains until he sinks exhausted in a fainting state. But horses thus broken are almost invariably either vicious or stupid; in fact, idiotic. There is another milder method sometimes adopted by these Pampas horsemen, on which, no doubt, Mr. Rarey partly founded his system. After lassoing a horse, they blind his eyes with a poncho, tie him fast to a post, and girth a heavy saddle on him. The animal sometimes dies at once of fright and anger: if not, he trembles, sweats, and would, after a time, fall down from terror and weakness. The Guacho then goes up to him, caresses him, removes the poncho from his eyes, continues to caress him; so that, according to the notion of the country, the horse becomes grateful and attached to the man for delivering him from something frightful; and from that moment the process of training becomes easy, and, with the help of the long spurs, is completed in a few days. This plan must spoil as many horses as it makes quiet, and fail utterly with the more nervous and high-spirited; for the very qualities that render a horse most useful and beautiful, when properly trained, lead him, when unbroken, to resist more obstinately rough violent usage.

In a French newspaper article on Mr. Rarey’s system, it is related that a French horse-breaker, in 1846, made a good speculation by purchasing vicious horses, which are more common in France than in England, and selling them, after a few days’ discipline, perfectly quiet. His remedy lay in a loaded whip, freely applied between the ears when any symptom of vice was displayed. This expedient was only a revival of the method of Grisoné, the Neapolitan, called, in the fifteenth century, the regenerator of horsemanship, predecessor of the French school, who says—“In breaking young horses, put them into a circular pit; be very severe with those that are sensitive, and of high courage; beat them