FIRE HORSES. 253 
and a good head. His great age is indicated by an 
extremely hollow back, but otherwise he is still-a 
grand-looking horse. He, too, is a mottled bay or 
brown, and not unlike Grief, except that he is even 
larger. In fact, the four old fire horses whom I have 
particularly described would have made a great team 
in their youth, — broad-chested, deep-lunged, low- 
standing, short-backed fellows, with immense shoul- 
ders, roomy stomachs, and strong hind quarters. Joe 
is now an engine horse. His mate, though in com- 
parison with him a mere colt, is in truth an oldish 
beast; and the two agreed some time ago that they 
would trot out no more from their stalls when the 
alarm sounded (having as it seemed to them, done 
that sort of thing quite long enough), but would pro- 
ceed from the stable to the pole at a dignitied walk. 
This resolution has been kept. The firemen have 
tried to hurry them, but without success. Rattan 
rods (such as schoolboys used to be whipped with) 
are hung behind their stalls, and descend automati- 
cally when the alarm strikes; but the old horses laugh 
at this gentle flagellation; they refuse to hurry their 
pace, and, alone among the fire horses of Boston, they 
advance with slow and measured step from the stable 
to the engine house. 
The only remaining question which we have to ask 
is this: What becomes of them all? What fate is in 
store for Old Joe, for Grief, for that veteran hose- 
cart steed, who gallops with his heavy load till the 
blood runs from his nostrils? When thoroughly 
worn out, fire horses are sold, or, more commonly, 
handed over to a dealer in part payment for new ani- 
mals. In some cities, in Brooklyn, in New York also, 
