after striking at you with her front hoofs, would wheel round like
lightning, and dash her hind legs in your face. The stoutest
stockman declined to have anything whatever to do with Star; the
most experienced breaker "declined her, with thanks;" generally
adding a long bill for repairs of rack and manger, and breaking
tackle, and not unfrequently a hospital report of maimed and wounded
stablemen. Amateur horsemen of celebrity arrived at the station to
look at the beautiful fiend, and departed, saying they would rather
not have anything to say to her. At last, she was given over in
despair, to lead her own free life, never having endured the
indignity of bit or bridle for more than two minutes.

Months passed away, and Star and her tantrums had been nearly
forgotten, when one mild winter evening the stockman came in to
report that,--wonder of wonders,--Star was standing meekly outside,
whinnying, and as "quiet as a dog." Her master went out to find the
man's report exact: Star walked straight up to him, and rubbed her
soft nose confidingly against his sleeve. The mystery explained
itself at a glance: she was on the point of having her first foal,
and, with some strange and pathetic instinct, she bethought herself
of the kind hands whose caresses she had so often rejected, and came
straight to them for help and succour. Her shy and touching
advances were warmly responded to, and in a few minutes the poor
beast was safely housed in the warm shed which then represented the
present row of neat stables long since on that very spot. A warm
mash was eagerly swallowed, and the good-hearted stockman
volunteered to remain up until all should be happily over; but his
courage failed him at the sight of her horrible sufferings, and in
the early dawn he came to rouse up his master, and beg him to come
and see if anything more could be done. There lay Star, all her