te little fellow would be at his best, for he evidently
enjoyed an appreciative audience quite as much as they did his feats. He
would begin by making a very respectful bow to the spectators, lifting
his pretty head as high as he could, and bringing it down until his nose
touched his breast. He would then, as commanded, "say his prayers,"
which he did by kneeling with his forefeet, and dropping his head upon
his knees; "knock at the door," which meant going up to the nearest
door, and knocking at it with his hoof until some one opened it; "walk
like a gentleman"--that is, rear up on his hind legs, and walk up and
down the yard; "go to sleep," by lying down and shutting his big brown
eyes tight; shake hands by gracefully extending his right hoof; allow a
cap to be placed on his head, and then sidle up and down the yard in the
most roguish way; and other little tricks no less amusing, which never
failed to elicit rounds of applause from the delighted spectators.

There were many ways in which Brownie endeared himself to every member
of the Lloyd family. If Mrs. Lloyd or Mary happened to come into the
yard when, as often happened, he was roaming about loose, he would go up
to them and rub his nose gently against their shoulder, thus saying as
plainly as could be, "Haven't you got a crust for me?" and the moment
Mr. Lloyd showed himself, Brownie's nose would be snuffing at his coat
pockets for the bit of apple or lump of sugar that rarely failed to be
there. As for his bearing toward Bert, it showed such affection,
obedience, and intelligence, that it is not to be wondered at, if the
boy sometimes asked himself if the "Houyhnhnms" of Gulliver's Travels
had not their counterpart in nature, after all.

Great, then, was the concern and sorrow when, after he had been just a
year with them, Brownie fell sick, and the veterinary surgeon said that
he must be sent away to the country to see if that would make him well
again. Bert sobbed bitterly when the little invalid was led away. He
would have dearly loved to accompany Brownie, but that could not be
managed, so there was nothing for it but to wait patiently at home for
the news from the sick pony.

Unhappily, the reports were not cheering. Each time they were less
hopeful, and at last one dull rainy day that Bert was long in
forgetting, the farmer came himself to say that despite his utmost care
dear little Brownie had died, and was now buried beneath a willow tree
in a corner