When I had brought the horse some water in a bucket--and what a
pleasure it was to water one's own horse!--Euphemia rushed into the
house and got her hat and cloak, and we took a little drive.
I doubt if any horse ever drew two happier people. Euphemia said
but little about the carriage. That was a necessary adjunct, and
it was good enough for the present. But the horse! How nobly and
with what vigor he pulled us up the hills and how carefully and
strongly he held the carriage back as we went down! How easily he
trotted over the level road, caring nothing for the ten miles he
had gone that afternoon! What a sensation of power it gave us to
think that all that strength and speed and endurance was ours, that
it would go where we wished, that it would wait for us as long as
we chose, that it was at our service day and night, that it was a
horse, and we owned it!
When we returned, Pomona saw us drive in,--she had not known of our
ride,--and when she heard the news she was as wild with proud
delight as anybody. She wanted to unharness him, but this I could
not allow. We did not wish to be selfish, but after she had seen
and heard what we thought was enough for her, we were obliged to
send her back to the kitchen for the sake of the dinner.
Then we unharnessed him. I say we, for Euphemia stood by and I
explained everything, for some day, she said, she might want to do
it herself. Then I led him into the stable. How nobly he trod,
and how finely his hoofs sounded on the stable floor!
There was hay in the mow and I had brought a bag of oats under the
seat of the carriage.
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