148 THE f»VKR-CHECK. 



"But l"d liave my neck free and be allov, cd to ex- 

 -ert my full strength doing it/' retorted the poor rich 

 horse with some spirit, and as he gave an extra strain 

 at his check-rein, the rich poor horse noticed the blood 

 Avas starting from the corners of his mouth. "Is it 

 the check-rein that makes your mouth bleed?'' asked 

 the rich poor horse. 



"Oh yes! I'm getting quite used to that. Very 

 often my mouth is so sore I can scarcely eat, and then 

 they think I'm ill, and a surgeon with a great long 

 name — v-e-r-y-t-y-r-a-n-n-y I believe they call him — 

 comes in ^-ith a black bottle, and ties up my head, and 

 pours some dreadful medicine down my throat, and 

 whips me when I kick at him." 



The rich poor horse now opened his eyes wide 

 and surveyed his companion under the light of some 

 new idea. 



"Well, you have a nice stable to stay in, don't 

 you? ISTow I have nothing but a plain barn and no 

 padding. To be sure on cold nights I have straw up 

 to my knees; but I don't have any blanket, and my 

 hair gets rough and shaggy." 



"Oh dear," sighed the poor rich horse, "I would 

 much rather have your coat of fur, and wouldn't care 

 how rough it is. If tliey would only let me have the 

 hair that belongs to me it would be much more comfort- 

 able than a blanket. They cut off my hair and I feel 

 every chilly wind, that blows. I don't dance around as 

 you see mc doing because I feel gay and happ3% but 

 because I am perfectly miserable. Sometimes they 



