CART HORSES. 211 



region in the northwestern part of Massachusetts, 

 who had a large, gayly painted wagon, drawn by four 

 stout, handsome gray horses, in which he took a 

 proper pride ; but one night the whole establishment 

 perished in the flames, the stable where the pedler 

 put up having taken fire, and the team was never 

 reproduced. 



Between the cart horse and his driver there usu- 

 ally exists, in one respect at least, the ideal relation, 

 that is, the driver serves also as groom. Man and 

 horse labor together, and when the day's work is 

 done it is the driver who gives the hungry and tired 

 beast his supper, his bed, and perchance his rubbing 

 down. Thus the horse associates with the man the 

 pleasures as well as the toils of equine life. I con- 

 fess that often, vexed by legal problems, I have looked 

 out of my office window and envied the teamsters in 

 the street. To be in charge of a good, sleek, fat pair 

 of cart horses, to live in the open air, to digest any- 

 thing that you may see fit to impose upon your stom- 

 ach, to have a face beautifully colored by the elements 

 and by whiskey, thoroughly assimilated, — is not this 

 to be happy ? There is a certain negro teamster, 

 who, as it appears to me, stands at the acme of un- 

 intellectual existence. He drives a very fine pair 

 of jet-black horses, belonging to a coal merchant. 

 These horses have taken many premiums at horse 

 shows, and they bear the appropriate names of King 

 Cole and Chloe. Evidently the negro is wrapped up 

 in them. Once or twice, at least, every year, he ex- 

 hibits the animals at a show or fair, and on these 

 occasions he has nothing to do except to talk; and I 

 know of no machine that runs more easily and pleas- 



