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points of white fire in a magic underworld. 

 How fair the slippery water above its bed 

 of bare rock or smooth pebbles ! Here at 

 the ford it runs arrow-swift, scarce fetlock 

 deep. Black Princess paws it daintily with 

 impatient hoof, till all the stream is roiled. 

 Trifle, the chestnut, will none of that. Whirl- 

 ing swift about, she plunges mid-stream up- 

 current from her stable-mate, as though to 

 say, " I drink always at the fountain-head." 

 Royal blood often carries whimsies. Hers 

 is of the bluest 



" She can trace her lineage higher 

 Than the Bourbon dare aspire. 

 Douglas, Guzman, or the Guelph 

 Or O'Brien's blood itself." 



She has all the marks of royal lineage. 

 Note her fine, thin crest, her silken coat, her 

 limpid eyes so full of intelligent fire, her 

 flat, clean legs, whose muscles stand out 

 like whip-cords with never a trace of fring- 

 ing hair. 



What feet are hers, too small, firm, un- 

 erring ! Her skimming gallop is as the 

 flight of a bird, her leap a veritable soar. 

 It is a deep drain or tall timber that stops 

 her. Besides, she has the Arab's endur- 

 ance. Turn her upon grass after a hard 



