How Father Cured His Horse
“WELL,” said Reuben, the story-teller, “father always wanted a horse because the folks in Greene lived scattered, and he had so far to go to attend funerals and weddings and visit schools, you know; but he never felt as if he could afford to buy one. But one day he was coming afoot from Hildreth, and a stranger asked him to ride.” “Father said, ‘That’s a handsome horse you’re driving. I should like to own such a horse myself.’ “‘What will you give for him?’ said the man. “‘Do you want to sell?’ says father. “‘Yes, I do, and I’ll sell cheap, too,’ says he. “‘O, well,’ says father, ‘it’s no use talking, for I haven’t the money to buy with.’ “‘Make an offer,’ said he. “‘Well, just to put an end to the talk,’ father says, ‘I’ll give you seventy-five dollars for the horse.’ “‘You may have him,’ says the man, as quick as a flash, ‘but you’ll repent of your bargain in a week.’ “‘Why, what ails the horse?’ says father. “‘Ails him? He’s got the Old Nick in him, that’s what ails him,’ says he. ‘If he has a will to go he’ll go; but if he takes a notion to stop all creation can’t start him. I’ve stood and beat that horse till the sweat ran off me in streams. I’ve fired a gun close to his ears. I’ve burned shavings under him. I might have beaten him to death or roasted him alive before he’d have budged an inch.’ “‘I’ll take the horse,’ says father. ‘What’s his name?’ “‘I shall call him Georgie,’ said father. “‘Well, father brought him home, and we boys were pleased, and we fixed a place for him in the barn, and curried him down and fed him well; and father said: “Talk to him, boys, and let him know you feel friendly.” “‘So we coaxed and petted him, and the next morning father harnessed him and got into the wagon to go. But Georgie wouldn’t stir a step. Father got out and patted him, and we brought him apples and clover-tops; and once in a while father would say, “Get up, Georgie,” but he didn’t strike the horse a blow. By and by he says: “This is going to take time. Well, Georgie, we’ll see which has got the most patience, you or I.” So he sat in the wagon, took out his skeletons—’ “‘Skeletons?’ said Poppet, inquiringly. “‘Of sermons, you know. Ministers always carry around a little book to put things into they think of when they are out walking or riding or hoeing in the garden.’ “‘Well, father sat two full hours before the horse was ready to start; but when he did, there was no more trouble for that day. The next morning it was the same thing over again, only Georgie gave in a little sooner. All the while it seemed as if father couldn’t do enough for the horse. He was around the stable, feeding him and fussing over him, and talking to him in his pleasant, gentle way, and the third morning, when he had fed and curried him and harnessed him with his own hands, somehow there was a different look in the horse’s eyes. But when father was ready to go, Georgie put his feet together and laid his ears back, and wouldn’t stir. Well, Dove was playing about the yard, and she brought her stool and climbed up by the horse’s head.’ “‘Dove, tell what you said to Georgie that morning.’ “‘I gave him a talking to,’ said the little girl. ‘I told him it was perfectly ’diculous for him to act so; that he’d come to a real good place to live, where everybody helped everybody; that he was a minister’s horse, and God would not love him if he was not a good horse. That’s what I told him, and then I kissed him on the nose.’ “‘And what did Georgie do?’ “‘Why, heard every word I said; and when I got through he felt so ’shamed of himself he couldn’t hold up his head, so he just dropped it till it almost touched the ground, and he looked as sheepish as if he had been stealing a hundred sheep.’ “‘Yes,’ said Reuben, ‘and when father told him to go he walked off like a shot. He has never made any trouble since. That’s the way father cured a balky horse. And that night, when he was unharnessing, he rubbed his head against his shoulder, and told him, as plain as a horse could speak, that he was sorry. He’s tried to make it up with father ever since for the trouble he made him. When he’s loose in the pasture, father has only to stand at the bars and call his name, and he walks up as quickly as an old sheep.’ “‘He likes to eat out of a plate,’ said Dove; ‘it makes him think he’s folks.’—Golden Censer.