ven for the cities it is good to have fast walkers. Trotting on city
pavements is very hard on the dray horses. If they are allowed to go at
a quick walk, their legs will keep strong much longer. It is shameful
the way horses are used up in big cities. Our pavements are so bad that
cab horses are used up in three years. In many ways we are a great deal
better off in this new country than the people in Europe; but we are not
in respect of cab horses, for in London and Paris they last for five
years. I have seen horses drop down dead in New York just from hard
usage. Poor brutes, there is a better time coming for them though. When
electricity is more fully developed, we'll see some wonderful changes.
As it is, last year in different places, about thirty thousand horses
were released from those abominable horse cars, by having electricity
introduced on the roads. Well, Fleetfoot, do you want another spin? All
right, my boy, go ahead."

Away we went again along a bit of level road. Fleetfoot had no
check-rein on his beautiful neck, and when he trotted, he could hold his
head in an easy, natural position. With his wonderful eyes and flowing
mane and tail, and his glossy, reddish-brown body, I thought that he was
the handsomest horse I had ever seen. He loved to go fast, and when Mr.
Harry spoke to him to slow up again, he tossed his head with impatience.
But he was too sweet-tempered to disobey. In all the years that I have
known Fleetfoot, I have never once seen him refuse to do as his master
told him.

"You have forgotten your whip, haven't you Harry?" I heard Miss Laura
say, as we jogged slowly along, and I ran by the buggy panting and with
my tongue hanging out.

"I never use one," said Mr. Harry; "if I saw any man lay one on
Fleetfoot, I'd knock him down." His voice was so severe that I glanced
up into the buggy. He looked just as he did the day that he stretched
Jenkins on the ground, and gave him a beating.

"I am so glad you don't," said Miss Laura. "You are like the Russians.
Many of them control their horses by their voices, and call them such
pretty names. But you have to use a whip for some horses, don't you,
Cousin Harry?"

"Yes, Laura. There are many vicious horses that can't be controlled
otherwise, and then with many horses one requires a whip in case of
necessity for urging them forward.

"I suppose Fleetfoot never balks," said Miss Laura.

"No," replied Mr. Harry; "Dutchman sometimes does, and we ha