un it would be.
I cannot speak of all her virtues for I have not learned them yet. We
are still new friends, for I have only ridden her two years and I feel
all the fascination of the first meeting every time I go out with her,
she is so unexpected in her ways; so amusing, so sensible, so brave, and
in every way so delightful a horse.

It was in October, and it was a fine day to look at, though some of the
great clouds that sailed through the sky were a little too heavy-looking
to promise good weather on the morrow, and over in the west (where the
wind was coming from) they were packed close together and looked gray
and wet. It might be cold and cloudy later, but that would not hinder my
ride; it is a capital way to keep warm, to come along a smooth bit of
road on the run, and I should have time at any rate to go the way I
wished, so Sheila trotted quickly through the gate and out of the
village. There was a flicker of color left on the oaks and maples, and
though it was not Indian-summer weather it was first cousin to it. I
took off my cap to let the wind blow through my hair; I had half a mind
to go down to the sea, but it was too late for that; there was no moon
to light me home. Sheila took the strip of smooth turf just at the side
of the road for her own highway, she tossed her head again and again
until I had my hand full of her thin, silky mane, and she gave quick
pulls at her bit and hurried little jumps ahead as if she expected me
already to pull the reins tight and steady her for a hard gallop. I
patted her and whistled at her, I was so glad to see her again and to be
out riding, and I gave her part of her reward to begin with, because I
knew she would earn it, and then we were on better terms than ever. She
has such a pretty way of turning her head to take the square lump of
sugar, and she never bit my fingers or dropped the sugar in her life.

Down in the lower part of the town on the edge of York, there is a long
tract of woodland, covering what is called the Rocky Hills; rough, high
land, that stretches along from beyond Agamenticus, near the sea, to the
upper part of Eliot, near the Piscataqua River. Standing on
Agamenticus, the woods seem to cover nearly the whole of the country as
far as one can see, and there is hardly a clearing to break this long
reach of forest of which I speak; there must be twenty miles of it in an
almost unbroken line. The roads cross it here and there, and one can
sometimes see