A grandson of the great racer, Eclipse, he had wonderful powers of endurance, and combined good temper with sagacity. The Duke rode him for eighteen consecutive hours at Waterloo; and then, says he, “thinking how bravely my old horse had carried me all day, I could not help going up to his head, to tell him so by a few caresses. But, hang me, if when I was giving him a slap of approbation on the hind quarters, he did not fling out one of his hind legs with as much vigor as if he had been in stable for a couple of days!” After the war was over he was taken to Strathfieldsaye, the Duke’s country-seat; and there, an object of general interest, spent the rest of his days in honorable leisure. It is true that this distinction had its drawbacks. Young ladies would entreat the “kind duke” or the “dear duchess” for a little of Copenhagen’s hair to set in a ring; until finally, his neck growing bare of mane, and his tail threatening to become a mere stump, his admirers were forced to content themselves with such stray hairs as might fall. A fine paddock was assigned him, with a summer house at one corner, opening into it by means of a wicket. Here he would come daily to receive bread and gentle petting from the duchess. With age his eyesight partially failed, and his teeth grew so poor that he could not eat oats unless they were broken up beforehand. He was twenty-seven years old when he died, in 1835. He was buried in his paddock, with military honors, and a small circular railing still marks the spot. Some person--unknown--stole one of his hoofs, which poor memorial is now preserved in the same museum as Bobby, together with the skeleton of Marengo, the horse of Wellington’s great rival, Napoleon. Various horses have served with credit in America; but more renowned than any--glorious as Roland “who brought good news from Ghent”--is the one that bore Sheridan to Winchester, and enabled him to turn defeat into victory. He was coal-black save for a small white star in the forehead, beautifully formed, and full of fire. From 1862 until the end of the war, he was present in ninety battles, and several times, but not seriously wounded. The climax of his fame was that wild ride when-- “With foam and with dust the black charger was gray.” It roused a storm of enthusiasm at the time; nor will a memory soon die which like this has received such splendid praise in art and song. So-- “Hurrah, hurrah for horse and man! And when their statues are placed on high, Under the dome of the Union sky-- The American soldiers’ temple of fame-- There, with the glorious general’s name, Be it said in letters both bold and bright: ‘Here is the steed that saved the day By carrying Sheridan into the fight From Winchester--twenty miles away!’” _X._ _ANIMALS AT SCHOOL._ X. ANIMALS AT SCHOOL.