THE FIKST HORSE. 11 



"What memory I have left runs back to Z . 



What I know of prior to that was told me later in life 

 and the first stop is punctuated with a horse." 



"I knew it, I knew it," growled the husky one while 

 the balance silenced him with a genial 'dry up,' a 

 term a trifle out of place in that party, thinks I. With- 

 out noticing the interruption, the siory teller pro- 

 ceeded. 



"At the time I was between two and three years of 

 age. The horse was a little brown mare that my 

 father drove in his business, and while she did not 

 have any speed, she was all that could be asked for. 

 When I shut my eyes I can see her now, smooth made 

 with a short neck, heavy mane, pointed ears and a 

 playful toss of the head when you spoke to her. That 

 old mare and I were friends, boys, and when they laid 

 her away under the sod, as the governor said no dog 

 should ever pick her bones, I cried like a baby. For 

 our business she would not be worth thirty cents ex- 

 cept to pull the traps from the track to the cars, but 

 with all your worldly ways and wise looks I reckon 

 each of you had a first horse if you only take a little 

 time to think of it. 



"The next horses that I recall appeared on a placard 

 advertising a condition powder or something of that 

 sort. It was nailed to a post in the village grocery 

 and as I with the other boys dodged in and out to ex- 

 change pennies for candies and marbles, I in time 

 learned that the names of three of them there were 

 five in the group were Flora Temple, the switch 

 tailed queen of the trotters, Dexter, the white legged 

 champion, and the old war horse, General Butler. 



