to do by himself, though, with true squirely instincts, he was trying to
secure it.

But from our earliest days we both lived on intimate terms with all the
live stock. "Laddie," an old black cart-horse, was one of our chief
friends. Jem and I used to sit, one behind the other, on his broad back,
when our little legs could barely straddle across, and to "grip" with
our knees in orthodox fashion was a matter of principle, but impossible
in practice. Laddie's pace was always discreet, however, and I do not
think we should have found a saddle any improvement, even as to safety,
upon his warm, satin-smooth back. We steered him more by shouts and
smacks than by the one short end of a dirty rope which was our apology
for reins; that is, if we had any hand in guiding his course. I am now
disposed to think that Laddie guided himself.

But our beast friends were many. The yellow yard-dog always slobbered
joyfully at our approach; partly moved, I fancy, by love for us, and
partly by the exciting hope of being let off his chain. When we went
into the farmyard the fowls came running to our feet for corn, the
pigeons fluttered down over our heads for peas, and the pigs humped
themselves against the wall of the sty as tightly as they could lean, in
hopes of having their backs scratched. The long sweet faces of the
plough horses, as they turned in the furrows, were as familiar to us as
the faces of any other labourers in our father's fields, and we got fond
of the lambs and ducks and chickens, and got used to their being killed
and eaten when our acquaintance reached a certain date, like other
farm-bred folk, which is one amongst the many proofs of the adaptability
of human nature.

So far so good, on my part as well as Jem's. That I should like the