“Perhaps you would not believe this, my dear—some innkeepers hardly ever clean out their stables. The following is a remark I heard only yesterday. It was a Yorkshireman who made it—
“‘Had I known you’d been coming, I’d ha’ turned th’ fowls out like, and cleaned oop a bit. We generally does clean oop once a year.’
“Sometimes, my dear, the roads are very trying, and what with big hills and thousands of flies it is a wonder on a warm day how I can keep my temper as well as I do.
“But there, my dear, this letter is long enough. We must not grumble, must we, my dear? It is the lot of horses to work and toil, and there may be rest for us in some green hereafter, when our necks are stiffened in death, and our shoes taken off never to be nailed on again.
“Quien sabe? as master says. Quien sabe?
“Your affectionate old friend and stable-mate,—
“Polly Pea-blossom.”
II.
From Captain Corn-Flower to Old Dobbin, a Brewer’s Horse.
“Dear old Chummie,—Which i said last time i rubbed noses with you At the wagon and hosses, as ’ow i’d rite to you, and which i Now takes the Oportunity, bein’ as ’ow i would ha’ filled my Promise long Ago, If i was only arf as clever as Polly pea-blossom.