“I think my pony would do that,” exclaimed Minnie; “he loves me so well.”
“That is to me one of their most interesting traits,” added the captain. “They are capable of becoming so strongly attached to man, that they give up their own wishes to those of their master. Indeed, their interests become so identified with his, that they come to have no will of their own. I have myself seen an old Shetland pony, which would place its fore foot in the hand of its young master like a dog, thrust its head under his arm to be caressed, and join with him and a little terrier in all their noisy rompings on the lawn. The same animal daily bore its young master to school; and, though its heels and teeth were ready for every other urchin, yet so attached was it to this boy, that it would wait hours for him in his sports by the way, and even walk alone from the stable in town to the school room, which was fully half a mile distant, and wait, saddled and bridled, for the afternoon’s dismissal. Indeed, the young scapegrace did not deserve one tenth of this attention; for I have seen old ‘Donald’ toiling home with him at the gallop, to make up for time squandered at play.”
Minnie’s father then repeated to the gentleman many instances of her pony’s attachment to her, and of his playfulness.
“I am of opinion,” said Mr. Gordon, “that there are instances of attachment of a horse to his master equal to that shown by man to man.
“During the Peninsular war; the trumpeter of a French cavalry corps had a fine charger assigned to him, of which he became passionately fond, and which, by gentleness of disposition and uniform docility, showed the affection to be mutual.
“The sound of the trumpeter’s voice, the sight of his uniform, or the clang of his trumpet, was sufficient to throw this animal into a state of excitement, and he appeared to be pleased and happy only when under the saddle of his rider. Indeed, he was unruly and useless to every body else; for once, on being removed to another part of the forces, and consigned to a young officer, he resolutely refused to obey the commands of his rider. The first chance he had, he bolted straight to the trumpeter’s station, and there took his stand, jostling alongside his former master.
“They were obliged to restore him to his old place, when he carried the trumpeter through many campaigns, and through many hair-breadth escapes.
“At last, the corps to which he belonged was defeated, and in the confusion of retreat, the trumpeter was mortally wounded. Dropping from his horse, his body was found, many days after the engagement, stretched on the sward, with his faithful charger standing over it.
“During the long interval, it seems he had never quitted the trumpeter’s side, but had stood sentinel over his corpse, scaring away the birds of prey, heedless of his own privations.
“When found, he was in a sadly reduced condition, partly from loss of blood through wounds, but chiefly from want of food, of which, in the excess of his grief, he could not be prevailed on to partake.”