turned into
it our three Morgan colts along with two Percherons from a stock farm
near the village, a Morgan three-year-old belonging to our neighbors,
the Edwardses, three colts owned by other neighbors, and a beautiful
sorrel three-year-old mare, the pet of young Mrs. Kennard, wife of the
principal at the village academy. Her father, who had recently died, had
given her the colt.

All four Morgans were dark-chestnut colts, lithe but strong and
clear-eyed. And what chests and loins they had for their size! They were
not so showy as the larger, dappled Percherons, perhaps, but they were
better all-round horses. Lib, Brown and Joe were the names of our
Morgans; Chet was the name that the Edwards young folks gave theirs. Yet
none of them was so pretty as Mrs. Kennard's Sylph. She was, indeed, a
blonde fairy of a mare, as graceful as a deer.

On the afternoon that we took Sylph up to the clearing, Mrs. Kennard
walked all the way with us, because she wished to see for herself what
the place was like. When she saw what a remote, wild region it was, she
was loath to leave her pet there, and Mr. Kennard had some ado to
reassure her. At last, after giving the colt many farewell pats and
caresses, she came away with us. On the way home she said over and over
to Addison and me, "Be sure to go up often and see that Sylph is all
right." And, laughing a little, we promised that we would, and that we
would also give the colt sugar lumps as well as her weekly salt.

"Salting" the sheep and young cattle that were out at pasture for the
season was one of our weekly duties. When we were very busy we sometimes
put it off until Sunday morning. Sometimes it slipped our minds
altogether for a few days, or even for a week; but Mrs. Kennard's
solicitude for her pet had touched our hearts, and we resolved that we
should always be prompt in performing the task.

The colts had been turned out on Tuesday; and the following Sunday
morning after breakfast Addison and I, with the girls accompanying us,
set off with the salt and the sugar lumps. It was a long walk for the
girls, but an inspiring one on such a bright morning. The songs of birds
and the chatter of squirrels filled the woodland. Fresh green heads of
bosky ferns and wake-robin were pushing up through the old mats of last
year's foliage.

"How jealous the rest of them will be of Sylph!" said Ellen, who had the
sugar lumps. "I believe I shall give each of them a lump, so that they
won