"(A dog barks.) Shepherd. Heavens! I could hae thocht that was Bronte.

"North. No bark like his, James, now belongs to the world of sound.

66

Shepherd. Purple black was he all over, as the raven's wing. Strength and sagacity emboldened his bounding beauty, but a fierceness lay deep down within the quiet lustre o' his een that tauld ye, had he been enraged, he could hae torn in pieces a lion.

"North. Not a child of three years old and upwards in the neighbourhood that had not hung by his mane, and played with his paws, and been affectionately worried by him on the flowery green

"Come listen to my humble friends,

Nor scorn to read their letters,
The faithfulness of horse and dog
Ofttimes makes us their debtors.
Yet selfish man leads folly's van,

The thought is food for laughter,
He admits all virtues in his beast,'
But-denies him a hereafter."

I.

LETTER FROM POLLY PEA-BLOSSOM TO A LADY

FRIEND.

NOW fulfil my promise of writing to you, my dear, which you remember I made long ago, saying I should do so at the earliest opportunity. By the way, poor Corn-flower, my pole-mate, spells opportunity with one 'p.' It is quite distressing, my dear, to think how much Captain Corn-flower's education has been neglected in many ways. He is only called 'Captain' by courtesy you know, having never been in the army. Heigho! what a deal of ups and downs one does see

in one's life to be sure. Why, it is not more than three years since you and I, my dear, resided in the same big stable, and used to trot great fat old Lady C to church in that stupid big yellow chariot of hers. And now heigho! the old lady has gone to heaven, or wherever else old ladies do go, and you and I are parted. But often and often now, while housed in some sad unsavoury den, I think of you, my dear, and olden times till tears as big as beans roll over my halter. And I think of that old stable, with its tall doors, its lofty windows, its sweet floors and plaited straw, and the breath of new-mown hay that used to pervade it! Heigho! again.

"I was telling Corn-flower only last night of how I once kicked an unruly, unmannerly nephew of my ladyship's out of the stable door, because he tried to pull hairs out of my tail to make a fishing line. Poor Corn-flower laughed, my dear, and said,—

"Which ye was always unkimmon ready to kick, Polly, leastways ever since I has a-known ye.' "He does talk so vulgarly, my dear, that sometimes my blood boils to think that a mare of my blood and birth should be but there! never mind, Cornflower has some good points after all. He never loses his temper, even when I kick him and bite him. I only wish he would. If he would only kick me in return, oh, then wouldn't I warm him just! I gave him a few promiscuous kicks before I commenced this letter. He only just sighed and said, 'Ye can't help it, Polly-that ye can't. You're honly a mare and I be a feelosopher, I be's.'

"On the whole, though, I have not much to com

plain of at present; my master is very kind and my coachman is very careful, and never loses his temper except when I take the bit in my teeth and have my own way for a mile.

"When we start of a morning we never know a bit where we are going to, or what is before us; sometimes it is wet or rainy, and even cold; but bless you, my dear, we are always hungry, that is the best of it, and really I would not change places with any carriagehorse ever I knew. Travelling does improve one's mind so, though heigho! I don't think it has done much yet for the gallant Captain Corn-flower.

"The greatest bother is getting a nice stable. Sometimes these are cool and comfortable enough, but sometimes so close and stuffy one can hardly breathe. Sometimes they smell of hens, and sometimes even of pigs. Isn't that dreadful, my dear? I hate pigs, my dear, and one day, about a month ago, one of these hateful creatures struck my near hind leg with such force that he was instantly converted into pork. As regards bedding, however, John-that is our coachman-does look well out for us, though on more than one occasion we could get nothing better than pea-straw. Now pea-straw may be good enough for Corn-flower, my dear, but not for me; I scorn to lie on it, and stand all night!

"I dearly love hay. but at other times a

Sometimes this is bad enough, nice rackful of sweetly-scented meadow hay soothes me, and almost sends me to sleep; it must be like eating the lotus leaf that I hear master speak about.

"Perhaps you would not believe this, my dear-some

innkeepers hardly ever clean out their stables. The following is a remark I heard only yesterday. It was a Yorkshireman who made it

"Had I known you'd been coming, I'd ha' turned th' fowls out like, and cleaned oop a bit. We generally does clean oop once a year?'

"Sometimes, my dear, the roads are very trying, and what with big hills and thousands of flies it is a wonder on a warm day how I can keep my temper as well as I do.

"But there, my dear, this letter is long enough. We must not grumble, must we, my dear? It is the lot of horses to work and toil, and there may be rest for us in some green hereafter, when our necks are stiffened in death, and our shoes taken off never to be nailed on again.

“ Quien sabe? as master says. Quien sabe? "Your affectionate old friend and stable-mate, "POLLY PEA-BLOSSOM."

II.

FROM CAPTAIN CORN-FLOWER TO OLD DOBBIN, A BREWER'S HORSE.

"DEAR OLD CHUMMIE,-Which i said last time i rubbed noses with you At the wagon and hosses, as 'ow i'd rite to you, and which i Now takes the Oportunity, bein' as 'ow i would ha' filled my Promise long Ago, If i was only arf as clever as Polly pea-blossom.

"My shoes! old chummie, but Polly be amazin' 'cute. She is My stable-mate is polly, likewise my pole-companion As you might say. Which her