ute "bucked" with me from the foot of Montgomery street to the
Occidental Hotel. The laughter which he provoked from the crowds of
citizens along the sidewalks he took for applause, and honestly made
every effort in his power to deserve it, regardless of consequences.

He was very playful, but so suddenly were the creations of his fancy
conceived and executed, and so much ground did he take up with them,
that it was safest to behold them from a distance. In the self-same
moment of time, he shot his heels through the side of a street-car, and
then backed himself into Barry and Patten's and sat down on the
free-lunch table.

Such was the length of this Morgan's legs.

Between the Occidental and the Lick House, having become thoroughly
interested in his work, he planned and carried out a series of the most
extraordinary maneuvres ever suggested by the brain of any horse. He
arched his neck and went tripping daintily across the street sideways,
"rairing up" on his hind legs occasionally, in a very disagreeable way,
and looking into the second-story windows. He finally waltzed into the
large ice cream saloon opposite the Lick House, and--

But the memory of that perilous voyage hath caused me to digress from
the proper subject of this paper, which is the great prize fight between
Governors Low and Stanford. I will resume.

After an infinitude of fearful adventures, the history of which would
fill many columns of this newspaper, I finally arrived at the Seal Rock
Point at a quarter to ten--two hours and a half out from San Francisco,
and not less gratified than surprised that I ever got there at all--and
anchored my noble Morgan to a boulder on the hillside. I had to swathe
his head in blankets also, because, while my back was turned for a
single moment, he developed another atrocious trait of his most
remarkable character. He tried to eat little Augustus Maltravers
Jackson, the "humble" but interesting offspring of Hon. J. Belvidere
Jackson, a wealthy barber from San Jose. It would have been a comfort to
me to leave the infant to his fate, but I did not feel able to pay for
him.

When I reached the battle-ground, the great champions were already
stripped and prepared for the "mill." Both were in splendid condition,
and displayed a redundancy of muscle about the breast and arms which was
delightful to the eye of the sportive connoisseur. They were well
matched. Adepts said that Stanford's "heft" and tall stature were fa