was a very rare thing for any one to notice the horse that had been
working for him. I have known ladies to do it now and then, and this
gentleman, and one or two others have given me a pat and a kind word;
but ninety-nine out of a hundred would as soon think of patting the
steam engine that drew the train.

One day, he and another gentleman took our cab; they
stopped at a shop in R---- Street, and while his friend went in, he
stood at the door. A little ahead of us on the other side of the street,
a cart with two very fine horses was standing before some wine vaults;
the carter was not with them, and I cannot tell how long they had been
standing, but they seemed to think they had waited long enough, and
began to move off. Before they had gone, many paces, the carter came
running out and caught them. He seemed furious at their having moved,
and with whip and rein punished them brutally, even beating them about
the head. Our gentleman saw it all, and stepping quickly across the
street, said in a decided voice: "If you don't stop that directly, I'll
have you arrested for leaving your horses, and for brutal conduct."

The man, who had clearly been drinking, poured forth some abusive
language, but he left off knocking the horses about, and taking the
reins, got into his cart; meantime our friend had quietly taken a
notebook from his pocket, and looking at the name and address painted on
the cart, he wrote something down.

"What do you want with that?" growled the carter, as he cracked his whip
and was moving on. A nod and a grim smile was the only answer he got.

On returning to the cab, our friend was joined by his companion, who
said laughing, "I should have thought, Wright, you had enough business