The Way of an Irish Horseman

The Way of an Irish Horseman is the way of love for the plains meeting up with the big sky, for a wild flower blooming safely between the wheel tracks on the Oregon trail, for ridges and valleys unspoiled. I first met the "little man in the big hat" through a wee Irish newsletter he published. Cimarron was the name, which is Spanish, meaning belonging to the wilderness. On the front of the first issue was this --- In the quiet of your heart, When you've gone and drawn apart, And on some lovely hillside, lonely lie, Let the thoughts contained herein, Give your dreams another spin. Who's to know it, if your breath comes in a sigh. In format it was no bigger than this page and it never ran over four sheets. The type was hand set in small fat letters, over-inked, and the typos were not bothersome at all. They added a kind of friendly note. The subject matter, however, was letter perfect. The man knew horses. Every breed from the Przewalski and the Onegar to the Arabian and the "man-tinkered" Thoroughbred. All breeds he recognized, knew in what country each was bred and for what purpose. Some he admired, others he tolerated, but it was the Indian pony, the Spanish Barb mustang, that held him. His newsletters were laced with fascinating information proving the mustang's superiority over man-made horses bred for "beautification" and sprinting power with scant regard for stamina over the long trail.. - Marguerite Henry