Men and women, horses and dogs, are very much alike.

I know which can talk best.

As to the rest, I don't know whether there's so much for us to be proud of.
It seems that this cranky wretch of a mare had been sideling and fidgeting when Mr.Falkland and his daughter started for their ride; but had gone pretty fairly--Miss Falkland, like my sister Aileen, could ride anything in reason--when suddenly a dead limb dropped off a tree close to the side of the road.
I believe she made one wild plunge, and set to; she propped and reared, but Miss Falkland sat her splendidly and got her head up.

When she saw she could do nothing that way, she stretched out her head and went off as hard as she could lay legs to the ground.
She had one of those mouths that are not so bad when horses are going easy, but get quite callous when they are over-eager and excited.
Anyhow, it was like trying to stop a mail-coach going down Mount Victoria with the brake off.
So what we saw was the wretch of a mare coming along as if the devil was after her, and heading straight across the plain at its narrowest part; it wasn't more than half-a-mile wide there, in fact, it was more like a flat than a plain.

The people about Boree didn't see much open country, so they made a lot out of what they had.
The mare, like some women when they get their monkey up, was clean out of her senses, and I don't believe anything could have held her under a hide rope with a turn round a stockyard post.