GEORGE WILKES. 247 



finally appeared, though not until he was well advanc- 

 ed as a yearling, that the colt had a good deal of the 

 robust qualities which distinguished his ancestors. 

 Now, then, in spite of the discouragements which had 

 attended the birth of the colt, Colonel Felter went to 

 raise him by a bottle. From the first he had his 



peculiarities, and with a judgment that many would 

 have applauded in one so young, he refused milk 

 from the bottle until it was flavored with a little sugar 

 and a good dash of old Jamaica rum. He very soon 

 became the pet of the family, running up to the stoop 

 at the whistle of the Colonel or the call of the ladies, 

 and never failing to kick up a row among the maids 

 if his milk-punch was not prepared in proper season. 

 But he was still no beauty. When Henry Felter 

 went up to see him, he exclaimed, as the colt came to 

 his father's whistle, "Oh, what a head !" 



"Never mind his head — he ain't going to trot on 

 his head," said the Colonel. "Look at his hips and 

 haunches and thighs, and those knees and shoulders." 



"Henry Felter had to acknowledge that the colt 

 possessed great motive power, and that his traveling 

 machinery, in spite of his queer look, was first-rate. 

 He noticed, too, that coming to Colonel Felter's 

 whistle, and he came very fast, the little fellow trotted 

 square and fine, having apparently no notion of a gal- 

 lop. But it was the old story of the ugly duck, that was 

 pelted by the fools and boys, and turned out finally 

 to be a swan. When the colt was three, Henry Felter 

 received a message from his father, saying that if he 

 would come up home he would see something. 



"See something," quoth Harry: "I shall, if I ain't 

 struck blind !" But next day he started for the home- 



