ther on the strength o' the gifts o' nature--an
extry inch below the knee, or slightly more powerful quarters? What's
the use o' them advantages to you? Man the Oppressor comes along, an'
sees you're likely an' good-lookin', an' grinds you to the face o' the
earth. What for? For his own pleasure: for his own convenience! Young
an' old, black an' bay, white an' grey, there's no distinctions made
between us. We're ground up together under the remorseless teeth o' the
engines of oppression!"

"Guess his breechin' must ha' broke goin' daown-hill," said the Deacon.
"Slippery road, maybe, an' the buggy come onter him, an' he didn't know
'nough to hold back. That don't feel like teeth, though. Maybe he busted
a shaft, an' it pricked him."

"An' I come to you from Kansas, wavin' the tail o' friendship to all
an' sundry, an' in the name of the uncounted millions o' pure-minded,
high-toned horses now strugglin' towards the light o' freedom, I say to
you, Rub noses with us in our sacred an' holy cause. The power is yourn.
Without you, I say, Man the Oppressor cannot move himself from place to
place. Without you he cannot reap, he cannot sow, he cannot plough."

"Mighty odd place, Kansas!" said Marcus Aurelius Antoninus. "Seemin'ly
they reap in the spring an' plough in the fall. 'Guess it's right fer
them, but 'twould make me kinder giddy."

"The produc's of your untirin' industry would rot on the ground if you
did not weakly consent to help him. Let 'em rot, I say! Let him call you
to the stables in vain an' nevermore! Let him shake his ensnarin' oats
under your nose in vain! Let the Brahmas roost in the buggy, an' the
rats run riot round the reaper! Let him walk on his two hind feet till
they blame well drop off! Win no more soul-destroyn' races for his
pleasure! Then, an' not till then, will Man the Oppressor know where
he's at. Quit workin', fellow-sufferers an' slaves! Kick! Rear! Plunge!
Lie down on the shafts, an' woller! Smash an' destroy! The conflict will
be but short, an' the victory is certain. After that we can press our
inalienable rights to eight quarts o' oats a day, two good blankets, an'
a fly-net an' the best o' stablin'."

The yellow horse shut his yellow teeth with a triumphant snap; and Tuck
said, with a sigh: "Seems's if somethin' ought to be done. Don't seem
right, somehow,--oppressin' us an all,--to my way o' thinkin'."

Said Muldoon, in a far-away and sleepy voice:

"Who in Vermont's goin' to haul d