“Poor old fellow!” said the boy, “do you think, grandpapa, he was ever a carriage horse?”

“Oh, yes! my boy,” said the farmer, coming closer, “he might have been anything when he was young; look at his nostrils and his ears, the shape of his neck and shoulder; there’s a deal of breeding about that horse.” He put out his hand and gave me a kind pat on the neck. I put out my nose in answer to his kindness; the boy stroked my face.

“Poor old fellow! see, grandpapa, how well he understands kindness. Could not you buy him and make him young again as you did with Ladybird?”

“My dear boy, I can’t make all old horses young; besides, Ladybird was not so very old, as she was run down and badly used.”

“Well, grandpapa, I don’t believe that this one is old; look at his mane and tail. I wish you would look into his mouth, and then you could tell; though he is so very thin, his eyes are not sunk like some old horses’.”