GETTING EVEN. 



Harry called her a Morgan, high-mettled and gay, 



With her head in the air and her tail in the breeze, 

 While her tapering ears were as quick in their play 



As squirrels when they romp on the limbs of the trees, 

 With a neck like a swan; her big eyes had the glint 



Which you see in the stars on a cold winter night; 

 She pleased me — we exchanged without even a hint 



That the beauty was balky, could kick, and would bite. 

 Being sound and well-bred with a place for her feed, 



I repeated her 'till she was willing to rest, 

 And when balanced I found that she had enough speed 



To engage in the circuit and score with the best. 



There are horse traders, and then there are horse 

 traders, and all of them follow the calling (you can 

 scarcely dignify it with the title of a profession) if you 

 can believe them, to use a racing term, "for some 

 fun and some money." Its devotees learn from one 

 another, and by the time one of the old guard becomes 

 a past master in the art of reading the defects of an- 

 other man's nag, a youngster comes' along and gives 

 him a sleeper. This is the exception, however, and 

 only goes to prove the rule that nature, in the end, 

 evens up all things between the good and the bad, the 

 sharp and the flat. But in a horse trade those who 

 have made a study of it will tell you that the only way 

 to succeed is to let the other fellow do all of the 

 talking and, if you can hold your tongue, let him do 

 the trading, or, at all events, propose something. 

 That is the starting point. 



