d 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 have two cures
for him, both equally good. We take up a forefoot and strike his shoe
two or three times with a stone. The operation always interests him
greatly, and he usually starts. If he doesn't go for that, we pass a
line round his forelegs, at the knee joint, then go in front of him and
draw on the line. Father won't let the men use a whip, unless they are
driven to it."

"Fleetfoot has had a happy life, hasn't he?" said Miss Laura, looking
admiringly at him "How did he get to like you so much, Harry?"

"I broke him in after a fashion of my own. Father gave him to me, and
the first time I saw him on his feet, I went up carefully and put my
hand on him. His mother was rather shy of me, for we hadn't had her
long, and it made him shy too, so I soon left him. The next time I
stroked him; the next time I put my arm around him. Soon he acted like
a big dog. I could lead him about by a strap, and I made a little halter
and a bridle for him. I didn't see why I shouldn't train him a little
while he was young and manageable. I think it is cruel to let colts run
till one has to employ severity in mastering them. Of course, I did not
let him do much work. Colts are like boys a boy shouldn't do a man's
work, but he had exercise every day, and I trained him to draw a light
cart behind him. I used to do all kinds of things to accustom him to
unusual sounds. Father talked a good deal to me about Rarey, the great
horse-tamer, and it put ideas into my head. He said he once saw Rarey
come on a stage in Boston with a timid horse that he was going to
accustom to a loud noise. First a bugle was blown, then some louder
instrument, and so on, till there was a whole brass band going. Rarey
reassured the