ee Jack steppin' along peart and spry,
pleasant and willin', turnin' his head when they come up to him, and
lookin' friendly at 'em out of his kind brown eyes, and they'd say, the
boys and girls would, "Good Jack! nice old Jack!" and they'd pat him,
and give him an apple, or a carrot, or suthin' good. But they didn't
give Billy any. They didn't like his ways, and they was 'most afraid
he'd bite their fingers. And Jack would say, come evenin', "It's gittin'
nicer and nicer we get further on the road,--ain't it? Folks is
pleasanter speakin', and the victuals 'pears better flavored, and
things is comfortabler every way, seems 's if, and I jedge by that we're
'most there." But Billy'd say, a-grumblin' away, "It's worse'n
worse,--young ones a-botherin' my life out o' me, and the birds
a-jabberin' and the posies a-smellin' till my head aches. Oh, deary me!
I'm 'most dead." So 't went on and kep' on. Jack had every mite as hard
work as Billy, but he didn't mind it, he was so full o' what was comin'
and how good 't would be to get there. And 'cause he was pleasant and
willin' and worked so good, and 'cause he took notice o' all the nice
things round him, and see new ones every day, he was treated real kind,
and never got tired and used up and low in his mind like Billy. Even the
flies didn't pester him's they done Billy, for he on'y said, when he
felt 'em bitin' and crawlin', "Dog-days is come," says he, "for here's
the flies worse and worse. So the summer's most over, and I'll get there
in a jiffy now."

"What am I stoppin' for," do you say, 'Miry? 'Cause that's all. You
needn't make sech a fuss, child'en. It's done, this story is, I tell ye.
Leastways I don't know any more on it. I told you all about them two
horses, and which had a good time and which didn't, and what 'twas made
the differ'nce 'twixt 'em. But you want to know whether Jack got there.
Well, I don't know no more 'n the horses did what _there_ was, but in my
own mind I b'leeve he got it. Mebbe 't was jest dyin' peaceful and quiet,
and restin' after all that steppin' and climbin'. He'd a-liked that,
partic'lar when he knowed the folks was sorry to have him go, and would
allus rec'lect him. Mebbe 't was jest livin' on and on, int'rested and
enjoyin', and liked by folks, and then bein' took away from the hard
work and put out to pastur' for the rest o' his days. Mebbe 'twas--Oh! I
d'know. Might 'a' been lots o' things, but I feel pretty certin sure he
got it, and h