CHAPTER X. 



My Shattered Ideal. 



I never studied medicine, as some have imagined, but I know 

 pretty well what's good for a horse when he's sick. The best thing 

 is not to do anything to make you sick. An ounce of prevention 

 is better than a ton of "drenching." Master saw me have the colic 

 one day. Oh, but I was all pained up like a jack-knife. The next 

 day Master said: "Trixie, show me how colic makes you feel," 

 When I did so he laughed. I couldn't see anything funny about 

 it, but it seemed to amuse him so I did it every time he asked me 

 to do so. I imitated the different stages of colic, showing the final 

 excruciating paroxysms. I groaned and pointed my nose to the 

 place it hurt worst, I switched my tail between my legs and ex- 

 pressed my feelings by actions that are plainer than words, 



I want to go back and tell you about one of my early day 

 dreams. Master brought home a bobby-horse one Christmas, The 

 children all loved it and rode it and poor Trixie was almost for- 

 gotten, I was jealous and mad. If I had been left alone with 

 that painted thing I would have kicked its doll face off of its shoul- 

 ders. I said to myself, "I wish I was a bobby-horse." Because they 

 all seemed to love it so, I began to pose like the bobby-horse, I 

 tried to look and act 

 like the bobby- 

 horse. But no one 

 seemed to care for 

 me and I went away 

 to my quarters very 

 much crestfallen and 

 almost heart-broken. 

 But all things come 

 to him that waits. I 

 had my revenge and 

 satisfaction. I stayed 

 away from Master's 

 family for nearly 



Page 

 Twent)--five 



Trixie as a Hobby Horse 



