er, though my partiality for him will be a sufficient
apology for a slight sketch.

Old Jack was a very intelligent horse. He would always come when he
heard his name called, let him be ever so far distant in the pasture;
that is, if he had a mind to come. Of course, being a gentleman of
discernment, he sometimes chose to stay where he was, and enjoy his
walk. This was especially the case when the grass was very green, and
when the person who came for him chanced to be a little green also. Jack
had his faults, it cannot be denied, and among them, perhaps the most
prominent one was a strong aversion to being caught by any body but my
father, whom he seemed to regard as having the sole right to summon him
from the pasture. I used occasionally to try my hand at catching him. In
fact, I succeeded several times, by stratagem only. I carried a measure
containing a few gills of oats with me into the field; and his love for
oats was so much stronger than his dislike of the catching process, that
I secured him. But after a while the old fellow became too cunning for
me. He came to the conclusion that the quantity of his favorite dish was
too small to warrant him in sacrificing his freedom. He had some
knowledge of arithmetic, you see. Certainly he must have cyphered as
far as loss and gain. One day I went into the pasture with my bridle
concealed behind me, and just about enough oats to cover the bottom of
my measure, and advanced carefully toward the spot where old Jack was
quietly grazing in the meadow. He did not stir as I approached. He held
up his head a little, and seemed to be thinking what it was best to do.
I drew nearer, encouraged, of course. The cunning fellow let me come
within a few feet of him, and then suddenly wheeled around, threw his
heels into the air, a great deal too near my head, and then started off
at full gallop, snorting his delight at the fun, and seeming to say, "I
am not quite so great a fool as you suppose."

Still, old Jack was kind and gentle. My father never had any trouble
with him, and many a long mile have I rode after him, when he went over
the ground like a bird. I loved him, with all his faults; I loved him
dearly, and when he was sold, we all had a long crying spell about it. I
remember the time well, when the man who purchased our old pet came to
take him away. I presume the man was kind enough, but really I never
could forgive him for buying the horse. He was rather a rough-looking
man