WOMEN

Lake County Mail, Issue 23, 29 October 1947, Page 9

WOMEN

news and jottings tor ...

by "Beatrice”

THE HORSE THAT CAN STOP

It was Charles Kingsley in “ The Water Babies ” who first mentioned “ The place called stop!” And how many of us know not only when and where to stop—but how to stop, as well? Jemima gives me ideas. She and I were sitting together on top of a gate. She was in her jodhpurs and riding cap. She had been out on a hired pony, and, having unsaddled him and given him a drink, she had brought him to this field where I had riiet her ; and we were sitting on the gate. And I said to her—always willing to learn from experienced people, and she always willing to teach, especially if it has anything to do with horses, about which she knows most everything —I said to her, “ Tell me,” I said, “ what in your opinion is the most important thing about a riding horse?” She was silent for a little while, turning it over in her mind. These expert judgments cannot be pronounced offhand. They are serious matters. Besides, that phrase of mine, “in your opinion,” had put her on her dignity. I don’t quite know what I expected her answer to be. A horse’s speed, perhaps; or its obedience; or the way it carries its head. I know so little about horses. But her answer when it came surprised me. “ I really think,” she said, then hesitated, weighing her words, “ yes, I really do think that the most important thing about a horse is to know how to stop.” A HINT FOR LIVING “ How to stop!” I cried. “ There are some horses,” she said, who when you want to pull them up out of a gallop, or a canter even, will jiggle-joggle about all over the place, or slither back oh their hind-quarters, or stumble on- their fore-legs and get their heads down.” “Dangerous for you,” I said. “ No, not really dangerous, but it doesn’t look well. And they’re not good horses. But there are other horses who, even if they are going quite fast, when you give them the pull-up, are able to hold themselves together somehow, and keep their stride and without upsetting you in the least, or themselves either, they come to a standstill quite smooth and easy. And that’s a good horse.” Now you know something about ■ horses you didn’t know before! And I something, if you’re quick on the uptake, that you didn’t know about the art of living too! SHUT UP! Has it ever occurred to you that one of the greatest of our human weaknesses is that we don’t seem to know when or how to stop! That’s my experience, anyway. Some people gush like geysers and never know when to stop. Some people quarrel like spitfires, and never know when to stop. I confess myself to being a bit of a gas-bag. Not quite so bad now as I used to be, for I’ve learned a bit of sense. But when I was younger and in company, if I once got thoroughly going on a subject that interested me, I kept the floor and nobody could get a word in edgeways. Quite often I completely ruined the effect and value of what I was saying just by going on too long. I didn’t know when to stop. Nor did I know how to stop. And if ever I noticed one of my patient friends giving the signal that surely time was up, I would be like one of Jemima’s not good horses, and would stumble and skid and slither and

JUI correspondence connected with this column should be addressed to “ Beatrice,” Box 434, Dunedin.

jiggle-jogglo —making an awful ass of myself —before I could bring myself to a standstill and shut up! How many of you know when a quarrel has gone on long enough; and, even if you know that, how many of you know how to stop it from your side? Not too many of you. My sister and I sometimes quarrel; pretty hotly, too, at times; but she has the admirable and most enviable gift of knowing how to stop it with a gesture, with a joke, with a diversion, with a reconciling word. And I have another friend with whom I occasionally quarrel; and he’s usually in the right and after a bit of knockabout, T surrender and say I’m sorry; but for weeks and weeks afterwards, he will keep returning to the point and “ rubbing it in.” My sister’s a good horse; this fellow is a bad horse. He doesn’t know how to stop! And how many of you know how to stop “rubbing it in” to those darling, wretched husbands of yous? LEAVING. WELL ALONE And how many of you know how to “leave well alone?” For it’s just as important to know how to stop doing a good thing as how to stop doing a bad one. Just as important to know how to stop being “ good ” as how to stop being “ naughty.” One of you sent me a little poem which she had written. It was quite a good little poem; but there were things in it which didn’t quite please me, and I told her. But I said that T thought she ought to leave it as it was, learn the lesson of mistakes, and get on to something else. Some time later she sent me the poem again, and asked me if it was “ better ”; she had evidently been to a lot of trouble in her efforts to improve the thing, tinkering and tinkering at it, until she had tinkered all the original life out of it, and the last state was worse tlum the first, much worse! Jemima was perfectly right. It’s a great virtue in a horse, and in a woman too, to “ know how to stop.” One might almost say that you haven’t yet learned how to live if you haven’t learned how to stop!