fed, yet it will be in an open shed where a domestic, full-sized horse would freeze. Their feed, when they are lucky enough to be fed at all, is only what the cattle and sheep leave. But for the better part of the year they shift for themselves, and survive or perish as fate wills. They are mere shadows of their usual plump selves when the spring at last comes and the scant feed appears on the moor.
Is it not wonderful that these little horses, reared in hardship, so soon adapt themselves to the ways of civilized men? This is perhaps why they take so kindly to petting and return so much gratitude for what is done for them by their little masters.
Under the saddle, or harnessed to the phaeton, they are equally willing. Once they become attached to their small owners, they take a certain pride in their little friends, and seem to develop a great sense of responsibility.
In these days of machines, when so
