THE horse's rescue. 29 



from natural; his eyes looked sunken, staring, and 

 glassy. 



There are thousands in this same condition. 

 Fonder, think, I say, again ; look at your horse after 

 you have looked this work through. That is the 

 place to look. Study tlic horse as I have done; 

 understand there are all stages of these changes, and 

 always a beginning. There is the end above men- 

 tioned. What do 3'ou think I wanted of that horse 

 on that pile of manure? I wanted to relieve his suf- 

 fering: You say, "Why didn't you?" They would 

 not let me. They called me a "damned old lunatic.'' 

 That did not affect me any ; that had become a com- 

 mon thing many 3'ears before. I have been told so 

 much that I am crazy, not being a judge of lunacy. 

 I was in Lincoln, Nebraska, some two years ago. 

 They have a lunatic asylum there. It struck me it 

 would be a good time to test my case. They have 

 several hundred lunatics in that asvlum. It was Sun- 

 day. It is their custom to get them, or nearly all of 

 them, in one room, then sing. I got permission to go 

 in. They did not act crazy; all w^as quiet. When 

 singing was over, all marched out in single file. I 

 did not learn anything satisfactory touching my case 

 by this experiment. I am writing history of my life- 

 I must return to the horse. As this is not intended 

 to be a history of my life, it matters not where I sail 

 to, neither does it matter which end. I begin at, as this 

 is not intended to be the scientific part of this work. 



At sixteen years of age you can see a boy sitting on 

 a saw-horse, about six feet from a horse. The horse 

 interfered. His ankles were bleeding and sore. Kight 



