that strives to move a large stone with a little
piece of straw, I struck with all my strength on the croup of the
rebellious animal. 'Oh, thanks, my good lady!' exclaimed the child,
drying his eyes: 'hit him again, if you please. Perhaps he will get up.'

"I began again, heroically; but, alas! either from obstinacy or
laziness, the horse bent his knees, and stretched himself out upon the
ground; then, getting entangled with his harness, he tore it, and broke
his great wooden collar. I had drawn back quickly, for fear of receiving
a kick. Upon this new disaster, the child could only throw himself on
his knees in the middle of the street, clasping his hands and sobbing,
and exclaiming in a voice of despair: 'Help! help!'

"The call was heard; several of the passers-by gathered round, and a
more efficacious correction than mine was administered to the restive
horse, who rose in a vile state, and without harness.

"'My master will beat me,' cried the poor child, as his tears redoubled;
'I am already two hours after time, for the horse would not go, and now
he has broken his harness. My master will beat me, and turn me away. Oh
dear! what will become of me! I have no father nor mother.'

"At these words, uttered with a heart-rending accent, a worthy old
clothes-dealer of the Temple, who was amongst the spectators, exclaimed,
with a kindly air: 'No father nor mother! Do not grieve so, my poor
little fellow; the Temple can supply everything. We will mend the
harness, and, if my gossips are like me, you shall not go away
bareheaded or barefooted in such weather as this.'

"This proposition was greeted with acclamation; they led away both horse
and child; some were occupied in mending the harness, then one supplied
a cap, another a pair of stockings, another some shoes, and another
a good jacket; in a quarter of an hour the child was warmly clad, the
harness repaired, and a tall lad of eighteen, brandishing a whip, which
he cracked close to the horse's ears, by way of warning, said to the
little boy, who, gazing first at his new clothes, and then at the good
woman, believed himself the hero of a fairy-tale. 'Where does your
governor live, little 'un?'

"'On the Quai du Canal-Saint-Martin, sir,' answered he, in a voice
trembling with joy.

"'Very good,' said the young man, 'I will help you take home the horse,
who will go well enough with me, and I will tell the master that the
delay was no fault of your'n. A balky horse