“For Minnie’s sake, I must tell some anecdotes about Shetland ponies,” cried the captain, laughing, as he patted his niece under the chin. “The first one shows what a power of memory they have.

“A pony reared upon Drumchany, belonging to General Stewart, was once travelling from Edinburgh to Perthshire, in company with several other gentlemen. They were advancing to the neighborhood of Drumchany when it suddenly grew dark, and they could not find the place to take the ford.

“At last, they concluded to trust to the pony’s memory, and, giving him the reins, he trotted on cheerily, till, suddenly pausing and turning to the right, he trotted down a furrow through a potato field, that led directly to the ford in question, which he crossed in the same decided manner, and piloted them safely all the rest of the way to their destination.

“During their stay, he got out of the stable one night, and was found next day pasturing among the mosses where he had been bred.”

“I heard of a case very similar,” rejoined Mr. Gordon, one of the gentlemen who composed the party.

“A gentleman rode a young horse, which he had brought up, thirty miles from home, and to a part of the country where he had never been before. The road was a cross one, and extremely difficult to find; however, by dint of perseverance and inquiry, he at last reached his destination.

“Two years afterward, he had occasion to go the same way, and was benighted four or five miles from the end of his journey. The night was so dark that he could scarcely see the horse’s head. He had a dreary moor and common to pass, and had lost all traces of the proper direction he wished to take. The rain began to fall heavily. He now despaired of reaching the place.

“‘Here am I,’ said he to him self, ‘far from any house, and in the midst of a dreary waste, where I know not which way to direct the course of my steed. I have heard much of the memory of the horse, and that is now my only hope.’

“He threw the reins on the horse’s neck, and encouraging him to proceed, found himself safe at the gate of his friend in less than an hour. What made it more remarkable was the fact, that the animal could not possibly have been over the road, except on the occasion two years before, as no person but his master ever rode him.”

“You said you had another story of a Shetland pony, uncle Frank,” whispered Minnie.

“So I have, dear. It was about a little girl, the daughter of a gentleman in Warwickshire. She was one day playing on the banks of a canal which runs through her father’s grounds, when she had the misfortune to fall in, and would in all probability have been drowned, had not a small pony, which had long been kept in the family, plunged into the stream, and brought the child safely ashore without the slightest injury.”

“I think my pony would do that,” exclaimed Minnie; “he loves me so well.”

“That is to me one of their most interesting traits,” added the captain. “They are capable of becoming so strongly attached to man, that they give up their own wishes to those of their master. Indeed, their interests become so identified with his, that they come to have no will of their own. I have myself seen an old Shetland pony, which would place its fore foot in the hand of its young master like a dog, thrust its head under his arm to be caressed, and join with him and a little terrier in all their noisy rompings on the lawn. The same animal daily bore its young master to school; and, though its heels and teeth were ready for every other urchin, yet so attached was it to this boy, that it would wait hours for him in his sports by the way, and even walk alone from the stable in town to the school room, which was fully half a mile distant, and wait, saddled and bridled, for the afternoon’s dismissal. Indeed, the young scapegrace did not deserve one tenth of this attention; for I have seen old ‘Donald’ toiling home with him at the gallop, to make up for time squandered at play.”

Minnie’s father then repeated to the gentleman many instances of her pony’s attachment to her, and of his playfulness.

“I am of opinion,” said Mr. Gordon, “that there are instances of attachment of a horse to his master equal to that shown by man to man.

“During the Peninsular war; the trumpeter of a French cavalry corps had a fine charger assigned to him, of which he became passionately fond, and which, by gentleness of disposition and uniform docility, showed the affection to be mutual.

“The sound of the trumpeter’s voice, the sight of his uniform, or the clang of his trumpet, was sufficient to throw this animal into a state of excitement, and he appeared to be pleased and happy only when under the saddle of his rider. Indeed, he was unruly and useless to every body else; for once, on being removed to another part of the forces, and consigned to a young officer, he resolutely refused to obey the commands of his rider. The first chance he had, he bolted straight to the trumpeter’s station, and there took his stand, jostling alongside his former master.

“They were obliged to restore him to his old place, when he carried the trumpeter through many campaigns, and through many hair-breadth escapes.

“At last, the corps to which he belonged was defeated, and in the confusion of retreat, the trumpeter was mortally wounded. Dropping from his horse, his body was found, many days after the engagement, stretched on the sward, with his faithful charger standing over it.

“During the long interval, it seems he had never quitted the trumpeter’s side, but had stood sentinel over his corpse, scaring away the birds of prey, heedless of his own privations.

“When found, he was in a sadly reduced condition, partly from loss of blood through wounds, but chiefly from want of food, of which, in the excess of his grief, he could not be prevailed on to partake.”

“A similar case of strong attachment happened under my immediate notice,” remarked Mr. Lee, after a moment’s silence. “General L. had a horse with him in camp of which he was exceedingly fond, and to the training of which he had given particular attention. Every morning, at exactly eight o’clock, this horse came alone to the door of his tent, saddled for use, and stood there ready for his rider to mount. When the general appeared in his uniform, the affectionate animal welcomed him with a loud neigh of delight.

“At last, the noble officer received his death wound, and lay for some days in his tent. It was affecting to see the horse walking up to the door as usual, and, when its master did not appear, to witness its look of anxious solicitude.

“When General L. died, he left his noble charger to the particular care of his wife, who was with him in his last moments. His remains were removed to ——, the horse being conveyed by the same train of cars, and manifesting intense grief. On the day of the funeral, the body was carried to the church in which his family worshipped, the most touching tribute to his memory being this faithful animal, caparisoned in mourning, taking his station directly behind the corpse.

“It was not necessary for any one to lead him, for he somehow seemed to understand that his deceased master was in the coffin; and nothing would induce him to leave it. For more than an hour, while the religious services lasted, he stood in front of the church, watching the door through which he had seen the corpse carried, waiting for it to come out, and then, without any command, wheeled into line, and followed directly behind it to the grave. What was very remarkable, as soon as the body was buried, he left the cemetery, fol lowing the coach containing the wife of his master.”

“Your story,” said the captain, “reminds me of a singular one I heard at sea.

“A farmer who lived in the neighborhood of Bedford, England, and regularly attended the markets there, was returning home one evening, and being somewhat tipsy, rolled off his saddle into the middle of the road. His horse stood still; but after remaining patiently for some time, and not observing any disposition in the rider to get up and proceed further, he took him by the collar and shook him. This had little or no effect, for the farmer only gave a grumble of dissatisfaction at having his repose disturbed. The animal was not to be put off with any such evasion, and so applied his mouth to one of his master’s coat laps, and after several at tempts, by dragging at it, to raise him upon his feet, the coat lap gave way.

“Three persons, who witnessed this extraordinary proceeding, then went up and assisted him in mounting his horse, putting the one coat lap into the pocket of the other, when he trotted off, and safely reached home. This horse is deservedly a favorite with his master, and engages in gambols with him like a dog.”

“How old is your new horse, Frank?” inquired his brother George.

“Nine years. Just in his prime; and, with good care, will last for twenty years to come.”

Mr. Gordon laughed. “Twenty years!” he repeated, incredulously.

“I think,” answered the captain, “it a mistake to suppose a horse is not fit for service much after he is twelve or fourteen years old. If he is used as he ought to be, and has good care, he will last well twenty, or even thirty years. The charger of Sir Ralph Abercrombie, which was wounded in the battle of Alexandria, afterwards died at Malta. On the stone erected there in commemoration of its services, the age of thirty-six is inscribed.

“And in 1790, there was alive near Haddington, in England, a Shetland pony which had been in battle in 1745, whose age was forty-seven years.”

“No doubt there are such cases,” answered the gentleman, “but they are rare in this country. I suppose we give our horses too much to do.”

“Yes, that is it; and too little care. No animal so richly repays the attention bestowed upon him as the horse.”

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