It is one of the
commonest delusions among fat men that horseback riding will bring
them down and make them sylphlike and willowy. I have several fat
men among my lists of acquaintances who labor under this fallacy.
None of them was ever a natural-born horseback rider; none of them
ever will be. I like to go out of a bright morning and take a
comfortable seat on a park bench--one park bench is plenty roomy
enough if nobody else is using it--and sit there and watch these
unhappy persons passing single file along the bridle-path. I sit
there and gloat until by rights I ought to be required to take out
a gloater's license.
Mind you, I have no prejudice against horseback riding as such.
Horseback riding is all right for mounted policemen and Colonel
W. F. Cody and members of the Stickney family and the party who
used to play Mazeppa in the sterling drama of that name. That is
how those persons make their living. They are suited for it and
acclimated to it. It is also all right for equestrian statues of
generals in the Civil War.
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