Boy. I did not pull hard.
Mother. You are a long time.
Boy. O, here is a fine horse! I like this horse. I like his long tail. You shall not have your tail cut—no, nor your ears: but you can not feel. Come, sir, walk and trot. Do you move well? I will rub you down, and give you oats and hay, and chop straw for you. I will be good to you, not whip you much—No more than just to say—Now go on;—nor spur you, nor gall your poor skin; no, nor let the hair rub off. So—you set your tail well; but if you did not, Tom must not nick you; no, nor yet dock your poor tail; you will want it to keep the flies from you when it is hot. I see poor Crop toss his head all day; he does it to keep the flies from him; but it is all in vain, he can not keep them off. I will be good to you; I will tend and feed you; and I will not ride too hard, and hurt your feet; nor trot on hard road, so as to make you fall and cut your knees; but I will pat your neck when I get up, and I will make you know me: so that you will turn your head, and seem to like to have me get on your back. At night, you must have a warm bed. When I have rode you in the day, I will see that you have good corn, and hay, and straw; and Tom must wash the hot sand out of your poor feet, so that they may not ache, and make you grow lame.
Mother. I can not but give you the horse, as you seem to plan so well for him; I hope you will be good and kind to all things.
Boy. I do not care now for the lamb, nor for the—
Mother. My dear, I would have you know your own mind; if you get the trick to like now this, now that, and now you know not what, it will do you harm all your life.—So it is that boys and men spend too much; so it is that they act like fools. I would give you all the toys in the shop, if it were for your good to have them: the horse you have; now take something else; take the book, do you like the book?
Boy. I do; I thank you, mamma. I will keep the horse, and I will give the book to Jack. O! my dear horse, how I love you!
