is voice. I believe we horses can tell
more by the voice than many men can.

"Have you decided what to do, John?" he said. "I find you have not
accepted either of those offers."

"No, sir; I have made up my mind that if I could get a situation with
some first-rate colt-breaker and horse-trainer, it would be the right
thing for me. Many young animals are frightened and spoiled by wrong
treatment, which need not be if the right man took them in hand. I
always get on well with horses, and if I could help some of them to a
fair start I should feel as if I was doing some good. What do you think
of it, sir?"

"I don't know a man anywhere," said master, "that I should think so
suitable for it as yourself. You understand horses, and somehow they
understand you, and in time you might set up for yourself; I think you
could not do better. If in any way I can help you, write to me. I shall
speak to my agent in London, and leave your character with him."

Master gave John the name and address, and then he thanked him for his
long and faithful service; but that was too much for John. "Pray, don't,
sir, I can't bear it; you and my dear mistress have done so much for
me that I could never repay it. But we shall never forget you, sir, and
please God, we may some day see mistress back again like herself; we
must keep up hope, sir." Master gave John his hand, but he did not
speak, and they both left the stable.

The last sad day had come; the footman and the heavy luggage had gone
off the day before, and there were only master and mistress and her
maid. Ginger and I brought the carriage up to the hall door for the last
time. The servants brought out cushions and rugs and many other things;
and when all were arranged master came down the steps carrying the
mistress in his arms (I was on the side next to the house, and could see
all that went on); he placed her carefully in the carriage, while the
house servants stood round crying.

"Good-by, again," he said; "we shall not forget any of you," and he got
in. "Drive on, John."

Joe jumped up, and we trotted slowly through the park and through the
village, where the people were standing at their doors to have a last
look and to say, "God bless them."

When we reached the railway station I think mistress walked from the
carriage to the waiting-room. I heard her say in her own sweet voice,
"Good-by, John. God bless you." I felt the rein twitch, but John made no
answer; perhaps he could