As Minnie grew older, her mother sometimes trusted her to go to the village store of an errand; or, if the servants were busy, and there was a letter to be posted, there was nothing easier than for Minnie to run to the gate leading into the pasture, and call out, “Star! Star!!” Then he would come up to the house, following her like a dog, and wait to be saddled.
In the winter the pony occupied a stall in the neat, warm stable; and there, curled down by his side, Nannie lay too, doing her best to keep her favorite warm with her long fleece.
Minnie thought Star a very knowing horse, and she loved to tell her father and mother all the cunning things he did, and how glad he always was to see her, when she went to visit him.
Sometimes her father told her stories of other ponies. I suppose you would like to hear some, and I will tell them to you.
“The first was an account of a horse owned by Dr. Smith, in Ireland. He was a beautiful hackney, and although extremely spirited, was at the same time wonderfully docile.
“The doctor had also a fine Newfoundland dog, named Cæsar. These animals were mutually attached, and seemed perfectly acquainted with each other’s actions. The dog was always kept in the stable at night, and universally lay beside the horse.
“When Dr. Smith practised in Dublin, he visited his patients on horseback, and had no other servant to take care of his horse while in their houses but Cæsar, into whose mouth he put the reins. The hackney stood very quietly, even in that crowded city, beside his friend Cæsar. When it happened that the doctor had a patient not far distant from the place where he paid his last visit, he did not think it worth while to remount, but called to his horse and Cæsar to follow him. They both readily obeyed, and remained quietly opposite the door where he entered until he came out again.
“While he remained in Queen’s county, he had many opportunities of witnessing the friendship and sagacity of these intelligent animals. The horse seemed to be as implicitly obedient to his friend Cæsar, as he could possibly be to his groom.
“The doctor would go to the stable, accompanied by his dog, put the bridle on his horse, and giving the reins to Cæsar, bid him take the horse to the water. They both understood what was to be done, when off trotted Cæsar, followed by the hackney, which frisked, capered, and played with the dog all the way to the rivulet, about three hundred yards distant from the stable. He followed at a great distance, always keeping so far in the rear as to observe their manœuvres. They invariably went to the stream, and after the horse had quenched his thirst, both returned in the same playful manner as they had gone out.
“Sometimes the doctor desired Cæsar to make the horse leap the stream, which was about six feet broad. The dog, by a kind of bark, and leaping up toward the horse’s head, intimated to him what he wanted, which was quickly understood, when he cantered off, and took the leap in a neat and regular style. On one occasion, Cæsar lost hold of the reins, and as soon as the horse cleared the leap, he immediately trotted up to his canine friend, who took hold of the bridle, and led him back through the water quietly.”