revery, would forget her surroundings, and would be found dreaming along, four, five, or more rods behind. Sometimes an occasional bush or bough would cause her to turn aside for a mouthful, but never would she so far forget her obligations as to stoop for a mouthful of grass, although she always might. But when I stopped, thus awakening her to a consciousness of time and place, like a delinquent child she would quicken her step, hasten to me and place her head on my shoulder in gentle reconciliation. Jess had a timid nature; she was often afraid, always apprehensive, but she seldom lost her self-control while on the road, and was always strengthened by my presence. In the country the big boulders by the roadside were always uncanny monstrosities to her, but she never doubted my wisdom when driving or riding, and always trusted my leading when walking.

It was touching to note her desire to be close to me when in the neighborhood of these weird fragments of old and remote formations, witnesses of awful upheavals and strange glacial transportation. When the rocks were very big and the road was very rough, she would press me hard, as if beseeching me to mount her that we might

become the six-limbed centaur, two animals with one consciousness, a double organism with one will, competent to cope with whatever goblins might spring from the supernatural world. She was always grateful for the privilege of carrying me through ominous places. It was safer thus, she must have thought. I shall never forget the illustration of trust she manifested when we first crossed the Blue Mounds, one of our favorite haunts. This is one of Wisconsin's few mildly-successful approaches to mountain scenery. I made the ascent on foot, consulting her comfort. The road is neither very difficult nor very rugged, and in an hour I was at the top. But to my surprise I found that the poor creature to whom I had given no thought, no word of recognition or touch of sympathy, was with me on the summit, dripping with sweat and trembling with excitement. It was a cool afternoon, but there was not a dry hair on her. What had been an exhilaration to me had been intense excitement to my faithful friend. How welcome was my word and how reassuring was my touch! The descent was through the wooded density of the west face, as the ascent had been over the rocky nakedness of the east. My heart is moved

at this hour when I think of the comfort I was able to give that sensitive creature by simply carrying the bridle-rein on my arm as we descended. How subtle are the currents of sympathy! upon what slender wires are the electric currents of companionship transmitted! Jess was timid, but trustful; she had many a faithless moment, but her faithfulness never deserted her, and so she exemplified the faith we all should seek the Faith that makes Faithful.

Jess was obedient, but not because she had no will to subdue, no tempestuous purposes and longings of her own. She had a strong head, and she knew as well as any horse of character what it was to take the "bit in her teeth"; and a few times in our intercourse, and many times in her dealings with others, it came to a clear question of strength as to whether the one who held the reins or the one who held the bit should win. In our travelling I think we both found much amusement in trying to discover one another's will. And now as I look back upon that silent companionship, it gives me great pleasure to think how often I was able to respect her will, as she always respected mine when it was clearly understood. How many a time, as we

jogged along, did she halt at the cross-roads for the almost imperceptible hint, with knee or bridle-rein, or the slightest declension of the body, as to which of the two roads we would take. And And many times also did we come to the parting of the ways at which Jess had a decided opinion as to the proper way to go, and great was my pleasure when I might respect her opinion in the matter.

She

Broadly speaking, Jess was more highly civilized than I was, at least in the months of July and August. Of two roads she always preferred the one that led into the haunts of human nature, while I preferred the shady glens of nature. preferred a well-graded highway; I loved the winding cow-paths and the grass-grown byways. Jess was always cheered by the sight of a village, and her spirits came up when once within the limits of a town. In the country she took the easy and natural trot, and I, somewhat accustomed to Browning's verse and Whitman's lines, found her rhythmic trot exhilarating and altogether comfortable; but once in the town, she would always assume the purely artificial, the acquired skill of the "single-foot."

Jess early learned the providence of the wind

mill in our western landscape, and half a mile away I have known her to quicken her pace with the prospect of the cooling draught suggested by the distant spectre that, like a great animated butterfly, opened its wings to the summer breeze. Disappointed was she if the gate was closed, but she would promptly try to take the position which would enable her rider to open the gate without dismounting. It was a long mental process for the poor horse's brain to connect the clatter of the wheel above with the cooling draught in the trough below, but she finally made the connection, and would wait when necessary, with fear and trembling, the starting of the mill. She always felt like running away, but never quite did, and when the water came she would cautiously but gratefully venture to drink. But I am sure she was always thankful when she found that the pumping had been done before she arrived. She was always pleased when I, too, drank, and was disappointed if I did not dismount at a spring to drink with her. When I bathed my hands and face, she too would plunge her nose deep in and revel in the bath. When we reached the stream, if I would only dismount she would gladly refresh herself by lying down