poor animal's pasture. Four hours and a half of torture, rendered more
painful by the contemplation of the luxuries of her remote companions!
It is insufferable!"

Then Mr. Potts, with a genial smile on his Pickwickian countenance,
expanded his green silk umbrella, mounted the fence, on which he sat
astride, and patiently held the umbrella over the cow's head for the
space of four and a half mortal hours. The action was sublime. I
regret to add that the animal proved ungrateful, and, when Mr. Potts
closed his umbrella on the shadow of the buttonwood relieving guard,
facilitated his descent from the Virginia fence by an ungraceful
application of her horns to the amplitude of his venerable person.

It was in the summer following, that the incident I am about to relate
occurred. It was fly-time,--I remember it well. We were again walking
together, when we came to a wall-eyed horse, harnessed to a dog's meat
cart, and left standing by his unfeeling master while he indulged in
porter and pipes in a small suburban pothouse, much affected by
Milesians. The horse was much annoyed by flies, and testified his
impatience and suffering by stamping and tossing his head. Mr. Potts
was the first to notice that the poor animal had no tail,--for the two
or three vertebræ attached to the termination of the spine could
hardly be supposed to constitute a tail proper. The discovery filled
him with horror. A horse in fly-time without a tail! The case was
worse than that of the cow.

"And here I am!" exclaimed the great and good man, in a tone of the
bitterest self-reproach, "luxuriating in a pigtail which that poor
creature would be glad of!"