Summary

Olive Tilford Dargan The Welsh Pony, Described in two letters to a friend

But on a ramble with a pony, adaptive, unobtrusive, all the leisurely ways are open—the deepwood path, or the trail up the exhilarating steep. As self-effacing as you wish, he saves you from weariness and frees the mind for its own adventure. There will be pause for question, and if Nature ever answers at all, you will hear her. There will be the placid hour that is healing-time with her woods, her skies and waters
Source: Gutenberg

Olive Tilford Dargan The Welsh Pony, Described in two letters to a friend

So the Romans left to Wales not only a heritage of legendary stone, such as the old camp, Y Caer Bannau, which is shown you in Breconshire, but a far more valued legacy which is yet animate in the veins of the Welsh pony. The invaders were busy in Wales for four hundred years, during which time the packhorse became a domestic type, and gradually the acclimated Arabian blood crept up the hills and among the wildest herds—a slow infusion that left the pony still a pony, retaining all the hardihood that made life possible on the scanty-herbaged peaks.
Source: Gutenberg

Olive Tilford Dargan The Welsh Pony, Described in two letters to a friend

To follow him beyond neolithic man into the paleozoic ages, when he was merely an old father Hipparion puzzling as to whether he should remain in his bog and unenterprisingly evolve into a tapir, or go into deeper and wetter regions and be a spiritless rhino, or step bravely onto dry land, turn his five flabby toes into a fleet and solid hoof, and become the noble equus caballus,—to pursue him thus far would keep me wandering in a region of timorous conjecture where he was neither Welsh nor a pony.
Source: Gutenberg

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