At first there would not be the least response, save, perhaps, the slight turn of an ear; but upon repeating it two or three times in exactly the same tone, the head would turn slowly toward me, and a look of surprise come into the tired eyes, as though a gentle word were a thing before unknown. At the third repetition I have rarely failed to have the poor old nose stretched out toward me for a gentle stroke, and the neck thus brought within reach of a kind pat. Not infrequently have I had the owner of some such unfortunate say to me, “Hi, there! Look out! That horse’ll bite ye!” and have replied, “Oh, I think not; watch him a moment, and see if I am not right.” I well recall one such instance, when I went up to intercede for a poor beast that was being cruelly lashed because it could not draw a load which was far beyond its strength. I begged the driver to desist, which, I add to his credit, he did at once, getting down off his cart, whip in hand. As he did so I went up to the poor creature’s head, and was greeted with a series of snaps and plunges, as though his tormentors had driven him nearly wild. “Don’t go within tin feet av the baste!” exclaimed the man. “He’ll have the head off yer.” “I hardly think so,” I said, and kept straight on, speaking softly and kindly to the trembling creature, while I reached out to take him by the rein. Up flew the head as if to avoid a blow, telling all too eloquently how often the poor muzzle had smarted from one. But dear Mother Nature is kind, and has endowed her dumb creatures with wonderful discerning powers; so not many minutes had passed before the poor tired head was nestled close to me, and soft strokes and gentle words seemed to act as a sedative upon nerves which were utterly unstrung. The man stood by, open-mouthed. “Well, be all the powers!” said he; “the likes av that niver did I see in all me born days. I thought the baste would ate the very handle off me shovel!” “He is better than you thought, is he not?” “Faith, I believe ye’ve bewitched him,” he answered. “Yes,” I said, “I have; but _you_ can bewitch him in the same way if you will only try it. I wish you would.” * * * * * All this is a long way from Big Jack, and we must not forget our chief character in our sympathies for his less fortunate kindred. But I want the little people who read this to realize how much that is lovable and beautiful dear Mother Nature has put right in our daily paths, if we will only raise our eyes to see and our voices to win it; for surely it cannot fail to help us by developing all that is best and loveliest in ourselves. “BILLEE TAYLOR” “BILLEE TAYLOR”