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W. W. Fink

Mr. Stiver's Horse.

HE other morning at breakfast, Mrs. Perkins observed that Mr. Stiver, in whose house we live, had been called away, and wanted to know if I would see to his horse through the day.

I knew that Mr. Stiver owned a horse, because I occasionally saw him drive out of the yard, and I saw | the stable every day; but what kind of horse I didn't know. I never went into the stable for two reasons: in the first place, I had no desire to; and secondly, I didn't know as the horse cared particularly for company. I never took care of a horse in my life, and had I been of a less hopeful nature, the charge Mr. Stiver had left with me might have had a very depressing effect; but I told Mrs. Perkins I would do it. "You know how to take care of a horse, don't you?" said she.

I gave her a reassuring wink. In fact, I know so little about it that I didn't think it safe to converse more fluently than by winks.