pace, an' amble, distinctions not worth distinguishin'? I assuah
you, gentlemen, there was a time befo' I was afflicted in my hip,
if you'll pardon me, Miss Tuck, when I was quite celebrated in
Paduky for all those gaits; an in my opinion the Deacon's co'rect
when he says that a ho'se of any position in society gets his
gaits by his haid, an' not by - his, ah, limbs, Miss Tuck. I
reckon I'm very little good now, but I'm rememberin' the things I
used to do befo' I took to transpo'tin' real estate with the help
an' assistance of this gentleman here." He looked at Muldoon.

"Invijjus arterficial hind legs !" said the ex-carhorse, with a
grunt of contempt. "On de Belt Line we don't reckon no horse
wuth his keep 'less he kin switch de car off de track, run her
round on de cobbles, an' dump her in ag'in ahead o' de truck
what's blockin' him. Dere is a way o' swingin' yer quarters when
de driver says, 'Yank her out, boys!' dat takes a year to learn.
Onct yer git onter it, youse kin yank a cable-car outer a
manhole. I don't advertise myself for no circus-horse, but I
knew dat trick better than most, an' dey was good to me in de
stables, fer I saved time on de Belt - an' time's what dey hunt
in N' York."

"But the simple child o' nature-" the yellow horse began.

"Oh, go an' unscrew yer splints! You're talkin' through yer
bandages," said Muldoon, with a horse-laugh. "Dere ain't no
loose-box for de simple child o' nature on de Belt Line, wid de
Paris comin' in an' de Teutonic goin' out, an' de trucks an' de
coupe's sayin' things, an' de heavy freight movin' down fer de
Boston boat 'bout t'ree o'clock of an August afternoon, in de