252 ROAD, TRACK, AND STABLE. 
more, and allows nothing outside of business to dis- 
turb or excite him; and hence, no doubt, his excellent 
state of preservation. 
But Grief awakes when the alarm strikes. How- 
ever long or steep the road, however fast may gallop 
the stout young bays in front, he always keeps up 
with the engine. The strength and nervous force 
that he accumulates in the stable Grief expends lav- 
ishly on the way to a fire. His eye is then full of 
spirit; his expanded nostrils display the red glow 
within; his neck curves to the task; his splendid 
shoulder strains against the collar. He looks twice 
the size of the horse that was dozing in his stall a few 
minutes before. Arrived at the scene of action, he 
draws up as close as possible to the engine. Grief 
likes to get where the sparks fall in showers about 
him, and there he will stand, shaking his head: to dis- 
lodge the burning particles, pleased with the shrieks 
and roar of the engine, with the shouts of the men, 
with the smoke and flame of the conflagration. Ata 
great fire in Boston on Thanksgiving day, 1889, the 
engine which he followed was burned within twenty- 
five minutes after it left the house; but Grief stood 
by it, firm as a rock, till the flames came near and he 
was hurried away by his driver. 
The patriarch of the department is, however, not 
Grief, but another horse, stationed in East Boston, and 
called Old Joe. His age is variously estimated, but 
I gather that it is at least twenty years, and possibly 
twenty-four. Joe is not so impassive as Grief; he is 
more like the rest of us, being swayed by curiosity, 
touched by social affections, and dependent upon so- 
ciety. He has a gentle, intelligent, courageous eye, 
