WONDERFUL RIDES.

Otago Witness, Issue 1916, 30 October 1890, Page 31

WONDERFUL RIDES.

A Cossack officer named Peschkoff has been recently riding a common and, at the outset, an untrained Cossack pony from the Pacific to the Atlantic. He started at the beginning of the year from the town of Blagovestchuisk on the Siberian shores of the former ocean with the intention of ultimately completing the feat at Havre or Rouen ; and he reached St. Petersburg — the distance to which, from the east coast of the exile land, is about 5000 miles— at the end of May. Coming down by Berlin and Paris another 1500 would have to be added.

Horsemanship is dear to men of many nations, and daring and memorable rides have been numerous. The great Moorish tower of the Cathedral of Seville, in Spain, called La Giralda, is said to have been ascended on horseback by Ferdinand the Seventh. By George Borrows account the story is possibly a true one. The tower had a vaulted pathway in the manner of an inclined plane, and not excessively steep. So that, though the elevation was great and the risk such as to deter any but a reckless cavalier, the top was not absolutely inaccessible to a rider with a good seat.

One of the heroes of Hungarian records is Count Sandor. He was a wild and eccentric nobleman, ever striking surprise, into the public mind by his achievements in driving and riding. In the town of Pesth there is a long and lofty flight of steps connecting an upper street with a lower. A picture is in existence painted by the Frankfort artist Prestel, some time court painter to the Duke of Nassau, which represents the count tooling a coach and team of four horses down this dangerous passage. It was a real event, and Prestel was by the driver's side and shared the peril of the hour. Nor did it stand alone for its rashness. Sandor took his horses almost anywhere and everywhere. He scorned obstacles, whether walls, fences, or rivers. As the years go on his mad rides will fade into the legendary, and it is likely that some critic will arise and prove them

impossible. No oircus master could vie with the strangeness of Count Sandor's freaks.

Better authenticated is the celebrated accomplishment of a wager by a Mr Woodcock, riding on behalf of Mr Shafto. Here it was not one horse, but a succession that were engaged, and the chief things shown were good judgment in selecting and endurance on the part of the lider. Mr Shafto had undertaken to produce a person who would cover 100 miles per day for 29 days with 29 different horses. The chances were that a breakdown would occur at some point, but in the test the conditions were strictly fulfilled, and the whole 2900 miles were made by the same rider on the indicated number of mounts and within the time.

A long and rapid ride was that of the messenger, Richard Cary, who, in 1603, carried tiding 3to James VI of Scotland that his kingdom had widened through the death of his cousin, Elizabeth. Cary rode from Whitehall to Holyrood in three days, transacting some private business, and meeting with at least one awkward accident by the way. The distance is fully 400 miles. He would have made better speed yefc, and have reached Edinburgh by midday, but for his mishap He had been thrown and kicked by his horse.

Heroic ricies have not been few. Many people have supposed that Browning told the story of one in sonorous numbers in his " How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix." But this is an error. The poem describes a purely imaginary gallop, though over those leagues important historical news must have frequently sped in charge of gallant couriers.

It is a ride that stands out in solemn pathos in Irdian story when the on the walls of Jellalabad sawa solitary stranger approach on an exhausted pony. An English army had perished in the awful defiles of the Afgan pass. This one man was left to tell of the tragedy. Dr Brydon's ride is wonderful for courage, perseverance, and sadness of circumstances, and, withal, as a continued hairbreadth escape.

A gallant, dogged heroism, too, was one of the leading qualities of the late Colonel Frederick Burnaby, whose famous ride to Khiva was in all men's mouths a few years ago, and the history of which he himself told in his well-known book.

Another brave ride under conditions of extreme danger was that of the young bandsman M'Dougal, of the 46th Native Infantry, in the exciting days of the Sepoy Mutiny. It was necessary to send a message from Sealkote to General Nicholson at Umritsir, a distance of 80 miles, and through a doubtful country. M'Dougal sprang on the back of a small pony by the parade ground, and almost before protest could be made, was away. And the boy carried the tidings of the crisis to the chief's headquarters in spite of the odds against him. He seiaed fresh horses as he required them in the villages he passed through, and it may be that in his daring, as well as in his express speed, was his security.