almost as he does art, says that it would be interesting for a man to
live permanently in a large hall into which three or four horses, of a
race already intelligent, should be allowed to go and come freely from
the time they were born, just as dogs do in a family where they are
pets, or something to that effect. They should have full liberty to
poke their noses in their master's face, or lay their heads on his
shoulder at meal-time, receiving their treat of lettuce or sugar or
bread, only they must understand that they would be punished if they
knocked off the vases or upset furniture, or did other mischief. He
would like to see this tried, and see what would come of it; what
intelligence a horse would develop, and what love.

The plan looks quixotic, does it not? But one thing you may be sure
of; he might have worse associates. There are grades of intellect--we
will call it intellect, for it comes very near, _so_ near that we
never can know just where the fine shading off begins between a
horse's brain and that of a man; and there are warm, loving equine
hearts. Many horses are superior to many men; nobler, more honorable,
quicker-witted, more loyal, and a thousand times more companionable.
Would you not rather, if you had to live on Robinson Crusoe's island,
have an intelligent, sympathetic horse and a devoted bright dog than
some people you know? One is inclined to favor Hamerton's notion after
seeing the Bartholomew Educated Horses, who can do almost anything but
speak.

[Illustration: BUCEPHALUS TAKES THE HAT.]

I am writing this for boys and girls who love animals, and for those
elderly people who are fond of them too, including the lady whom I
overheard saying that she had been nine times to see the remarkable