"My dear," said I, as I took her by the hand, "we are going to
ride. But I have not hired a carriage. I have bought one. Do you
see this horse? He is ours--our own horse."

If you could have seen the face that was turned up to me,--all you
other men in the world,--you would have torn your hair in despair.

Afterward she went around and around that horse; she patted his
smooth sides; she looked, with admiration, at his strong, well-
formed legs; she stroked his head; she smoothed his mane; she was
brimful of joy.

When I had brought the horse some water in a bucket--and what a
pleasure it was to water one's own horse!--Euphemia rushed into the
house and got her hat and cloak, and we took a little drive.

I doubt if any horse ever drew two happier people. Euphemia said
but little about the carriage. That was a necessary adjunct, and
it was good enough for the present. But the horse! How nobly and
with what vigor he pulled us up the hills and how carefully and
strongly he held the carriage back as we went down! How easily he
trotted over the level road, caring nothing for the ten miles he
had gone that afternoon! What a sensation of power it gave us to
think that all that strength and speed and endurance was ours, that
it would go where we wished, that it would wait for us as long as
we chose, that it was at our service day and night, that it was a
horse, and we owned it!

When we returned, Pomona saw us drive in,--she had not known of our
ride,--and when she heard the news she was as wild with proud