A KNOWING HORSE
AN Irishman wished to borrow a horse and wagon of a New England
farmer, by the name of Charles Benedict, living near Norwalk,
Connecticut, some years ago.
While reluctant to make the loan, the farmer instructed his colored
farm-hand to hitch up a nice white horse and let the Irishman have him.
The colored man, by the way, was particularly good and kind to
animals, and they all liked him.
When the Irishman returned the borrowed horse, Mr. Benedict, the
owner, noticed that the horse had been driven hard, as he was covered
with foam, and that there were signs of the whip having been used on
him. He little supposed that the Irishman would have the courage ever to
ask him for the loan of the horse again.
But, contrary to his supposition, after a time the man once more
asked to borrow the horse. Again yielding reluctantly, the colored man
once more hitched up the white horse to the wagon.
The Irishman got into the wagon, and, taking the reins in hand, gave
the word for the horse to proceed. But the horse did not move. The
Irishman repeated the command with more emphasis; but still the horse
did not stir. Finally he applied the whip; but to no purpose. The horse
would not budge.
Then the colored man got into the wagon and told the horse to go, and
he at once obeyed.
Once more the Irishman attempted to drive the horse, but without
success. The horse would not be driven by him, and finally had to be
unhitched and returned to the stable.
Plainly, the difference was in the drivers. The horse evidently
remembered the treatment this man had given him on the former occasion,
and did not purpose to be driven by him again.
Once bit, twice shy.
WHY FAN WOULDN'T MOVE
"My father," says a writer in Our Dumb Animals, "was very fond of
horses. He generally had from one to five in his stable. Among these was
Fan, the family horse and pet of all.
"She was so gentle that I, a little fellow in kilts, was allowed to
play around her head and heels just as I pleased.
"One day Fan was hitched up to a wagon, and when everything was
ready, father jumped in, took the reins, and gave the word to start. Fan
did not move a step, which surprised my father very much, as she had
always before been very willing to go.
"My father took the whip and lightly touched her, but still she did
not stir. By and by father got out of patience and gave her a sharp
stroke, when, to his wonder, he saw her lower her head and carefully
take hold of a small bundle with her teeth and lift it to one side. Then
she started off at a brisk trot."
As the little bundle proved to be the father's little boy himself, we
can well believe that after that old Fan was loved and petted more than
ever.
AN EXCITING RUNAWAY
WHEN a boy twelve years old, while living on a farm in northwestern
Illinois, my father set me to plowing a field one cool autumn day, with
a large team of horses. The horses were strong, well fed, and full of
life, and they pulled the plow along with ease. The cool weather also
had a bracing effect, and tended to enliven them and quicken their pace.
As farmers often do while plowing with a team of horses on the farm,
I had the lines tied together at the ends and thrown over one shoulder
and down around my back and under the opposite arm.
As the horses turned a certain corner of the field not far from a
large woods, they heard a gun discharged. At this they took fright and
began to run. I pulled as hard as I could on the lines, and sought
further to check their pace by making the plow go as deep in the ground
as I could.
But this had little effect. They made the furrow fly, and soon had me
down dragging on the ground at the side of the plow which was now quite
out of the ground.
I managed to slip the lines over my head, but held onto them with my
hands as long as I possibly could in a vain attempt to stop this runaway
team.
But I very soon had to let go of the lines, and away went this great
fine team of horses, with the iron beam plow, across the field and down
a meadow toward a high board gate not far from the barn.
Every now and then the nose of the plow would dive down into the sod,
only to be pulled out again and throw a furrow of sod several feet long
high in the air. The plow itself would sometimes jump as high as the
horses' backs.
The horses ran till they reached the high board gate referred to,
which they ran into and partly broke down.
In their last plunge, the point of the plow struck deep into the hoof
of one of the horse's hind feet, making it bleed profusely, but not
inflicting so serious a wound as to injure the horse permanently.
This, with the damage to the gate, was the only real injury done.
But, as the reader can well imagine, these were exciting and anxious
moments to me, when I saw the plow jumping high into the air, and
fearing every moment that I would see it strike into the hip or back of
one of the horses and perhaps kill him.
My father took charge of this team after this.
I was too small a boy to be entrusted all alone with so large a team
of horses.
ARMY MULE, 47 DAYS WITHOUT
WATER AND FOOD
THE traditional toughness of an army mule was upheld in a report to
the United States War Department, from the Forty-second Infantry,
stationed at Panama.
During some army maneuvers in the fall of 1926, a mule broke loose
and ran into the jungle.
Forty-seven days later he was found by a native. He had fallen into a
ten-foot hole shortly after he had entered the jungle, and had remained
there, practically without food or water, all that time. The animal was
a living skeleton, covered with ticks, but still carrying the saddle and
infantry equipment with which he was laden when he ran away.
There may have been some scanty vegetation in the hole, but it could
not have lasted more than a day or so. Rain water also may have trickled
down to the captive at times, but not in any sufficient or large enough
quantities to materially allay such an animal's thirst.
The mule was taken back to camp, and, with food and water again
supplied, soon took on flesh, and at last reports was in good health.
HORSEBACK RIDING
WE wish that every boy in all the world could have the pleasure of
riding a horse or a pony. Next to playing with a dog, this is one of a
boy's greatest delights.
From experience, the author knows what horseback riding means to a
boy. He has never forgotten his first ride on an Indian ponyfirst on a
walk, then on a slow trot, and finally on the gallop. It was indeed a
great pleasure and fine sport. I never tired of it.
After a time I was able to ride standing up on the back of a fine bay
mare we called "Kate," going on an easy gallop, like circus riders.
Neighbor boys and I would sometimes race our horses for short
distances to see which horse could run the faster.
We would also time some of our fastest trotters to see how long it
took them to trot a mile.
In defense of fleet-footed horses, Henry Ward Beecher once said that
"horses were made to go." And we may add that horses and ponies were
made to ride also.
Moreover, horseback riding is healthful exercise. One of the famous
prescriptions of an old German doctor was, "Take a horse every day."
Sometimes, of course, all does not go so well horseback riding. Some
horses are given to throwing their riders. One of the ways they do this
is to rear and pitch. Another is to run and stop suddenly, with head
down, and throw the rider off over their heads. Still another is to lie
down and roll over, and thus compel the rider to dismount.
The author remembers being thrown repeatedly by a fine sorrel mare on
riding her to a creek to give her a drink when the water had given out
for a time at the farmyard well. She was not a vicious or badly disposed
animal at all; but I was small, and she was large and full of life, and
wished to go faster than I could ride her bareback with safety and not
fall off. So, after getting her on a trot or a slow gallop, she would
often stop rather suddenly, put her head down, and just nicely and
easily spill me on the ground in front of her. But she was careful never
to step on me. I never got hurt on being thrown by her. She simply
wished to get rid of me and have a good run after standing in the barn
for a long time.
Boys brought up in the country on the farm generally have the
advantage over those brought up in cities in this matter of horseback
riding, though not so much now since the automobile, motor-truck, and
tractor have displaced so many of the horses formerly used in farming.
Occasionally, however, boys and girls in the city know what it means
to ride on a horse or pony. The author is acquainted with a gentleman in
Washington, D. C., the head of a civil service preparatory
training-school, who keeps a pony just on purpose to give small children
the pleasure of riding on him. This pony is often seen on the streets of
Washington with a boy or girl on him, and other children following him,
waiting their turn to take a ride. His owner is a very kind-hearted man,
and knows what boys and girls like.
PRESIDENT
ROOSEVELT AND THE SICK BOY'S PONY
WE are always pleased when we learn of great men being kind to boys,
kind to animals, and tender-hearted. We think more of them after hearing
of their good deeds, their kind words, and their efforts to cheer the
downcast, help the helpless, and relieve the sorrows and sufferings of
their fellow men.
The story is told of a boy who lay sick in bed in a room on an upper
floor of a hospital. He owned a pony, and while still sick greatly
desired to see his pony.
Learning of this, President Roosevelt, so we are told, had the boy's
pony taken to the hospital, placed on an elevator, and taken to the sick
boy's room for a visit. Having been a great lover of horses and a great
horseback rider himself, as well as the leader of the famous "Rough
Riders" in the Spanish-American war, he knew how much good it would do a
sick boy to see his pony.
THE DONKEY'S REVENGE
A DONKEY kept in a stable got into the habit of kicking the boards
loose from his stall when annoyed by a horse kept in an adjoining stall.
His owner thought to break him of this by giving him a good beating
one day after he had done some kicking of this kind.
While receiving his beating out in the yard, the donkey did some more
kicking, but he took good care not to kick at his master, however much
he may have felt like doing so.
After his punishment, his master turned him out in a pasture to eat
grass. A washing had just been hung on a line stretched in this pasture
near the house.
Unobserved, the donkey, out of revenge for his beating, came and tore
the sleeves off from several of his master's shirts hanging on the line.
He evidently thought he should not have been punished for kicking his
stall down when nagged and annoyed by a provoking and tantalizing horse.
In court we sometimes hear of what are called "provoking causes" and
"extenuating circumstances" in cases where an offense has been
committed. This seemed to be a case of this kind.
COSTLY CRUELTY
DOROTHY Dix, the well-known and versatile writer on family, home, and
love affairs, tells how away back in the days when young men took their
girl friends out for a ride with horse and buggy, instead of in an
automobile as now, a young man of her acquaintance took the young lady
to whom he was engaged out for a drive one evening.
On the way the horse did something which angered the young man, and
he gave it a merciless beating, whereupon the girl promptly broke the
engagement to marry him, saying:
"I am very glad I have found out what sort of a temper you have in
time to save myself. I do not propose to spend the balance of my life
cowering before any man's rage, or walking on eggs when he is about for
fear I will do or say something to rile him. Furthermore, I am no fool.
I can take a tip when I am handed one, and I know that any man who will
be cruel to a defenseless animal will be cruel to a woman when she is
once in his power. So I am through."
This young man's cruelty, therefore, cost him a good wife-a life-long
loss.
Do not be cruel to animals, boys, if you wish to retain not only your
own self-respect, but the love and respect of worth-while friends and
good people generally.
THE BELL OF JUSTICE
IN a village in Italy, years ago, a good king hung a bell in the
market-place, and covered it with a sheltering roof. Then, calling his
people together, he told them what he had done. "This is the Bell of
justice," he said. "Whenever a wrong is done to any man, I will call the
judge to make it right-if the man but rings the great bell in the
square."
With so good and just a king, the people of the village lived happily
together. The bell called the judge whenever wrong was done, and he
heard all complaints.
After many years the bell-rope was worn away by use. It hung out of
reach until some one, passing by, mended it with a wild vine.
Now it happened that a famous knight dwelt in the village. When he
was young he had many hounds and horses, and spent his time in hunting
and feasting, but when he became an old man he had no love for anything
but gold. So he sold his hounds, gave up his rich gardens, and kept but
one horse, and that half-starved, in his stable. At length he became so
greedy and selfish that he grudged the poor horse his scanty food and
turned him out to feed in the streets.
One summer afternoon, as the people dozed in their houses, they heard
the sound of the Bell of Justice. The judge hastened to the
market-place, where the great bell was ringing. "Who hath been wronged?"
he asked. But, reaching the belfry, he saw only the starving horse
struggling to reach the vine which had been tied to the bell-rope.
"Ah !" said the judge, "the steed pleads his cause well. He has been
forsaken by the master whom he served, and he asks for justice."
The people had gathered in the market-place, and among them the
knight. The judge spoke gravely.
"Here came the steed who served his master well, yet who was
abandoned and forgotten. He pleads for justice, and the law decrees that
the man whom he served shall provide him with food and shelter, that he
may abide in comfort."
The knight, ashamed, led home the faithful horse. The king approved
the righteous judgment, saying: "My bell may indeed be called the Bell
of Justice. It pleads the cause even of the dumb animals, who cannot
speak nor plead for themselves."
