the brave, the beautiful, and the benighted; or, as we know him in
reality, the companion of our pleasures, the slave of our necessities, the
dislocator of our necks, or one of the performers at our funeral;
whether--but we are not drawing a "bill in Chancery."

With such impressions in favour of the horse, we have ever felt a deep
anxiety about those to whom his conduct and comfort are confided.

The breeder--we envy.
The breaker--we pity.
The owner--we esteem.
The groom--we respect.
AND
The ostler--we pay.

Do not suppose that we wish to cast a slur upon the latter personage, but
it is too much to require that he who keeps a caravansera should look upon
every wayfarer as a brother. It is thus with the ostler: _his_ feelings
are never allowed to twine

"Around one object, till he feels his heart
Of its sweet being form a deathless part."

No--to rub them down, give them a quartern and three pen'orth, and not too
much water, are all that he has to connect him with the offspring of
Childers, Eclipse, or Pot-8-o's; ergo, we pay him.

My friend Tom is a fine specimen of the genus. He is about fifteen hands
high, rising thirty, herring-bowelled, small head, large ears, close mane,
broad chest, and legs à la parentheses ( ). His dress is a long