has been misunderstood, and his feelings hurt a great many times a day. Human beings are the only things he seems afraid of. As for his awkward carriage, it is no worse than that of the farm hand who has made such a failure of trying to use him, and who is, nevertheless, when he stands up straight, a well-made, good-looking fellow. A little careful handling will make that animal as different from his present self as a dandified English sergeant is from the raw recruit he once was. What do you think of his name? It is Sambo."
But my wife was not to be led off on any side question, and after intimating that such a plebeian appellation struck her as quite suitable, she continued: "Now you know that Mr. —" (the farmer of whom I purchased) "knows a great deal more about horses than you do; you must admit that, for he has been buying and selling and driving them all his life, and he doesn't like him, or he wouldn't sell so cheap; and as for training him, for my part I don't believe horse-training can be learned out of books, as a woman would learn a receipt for making cake. Do get him to take the horse back!"
Now I have a great respect for my wife's opinion in general, and in this particular case all her points seemed well taken.
The horse was tall, and I was short; he was excitable, and I hadn't the strength of a boy; he was very awkward, and I had never trained a horse in my life.
