"It was just getting towards daylight when the poor thing, as had been very quiet for some time, began to get restless, and throw out its legs again as it laid on its side, just as if it was galloping, and then it lay still again and only moaned. I spoke to him and he lifted his head just a little way, but it fell back, and after a few minutes, during which I felt as I had never felt before--as it, even with this poor beast, there was something awful about to take place--I spoke to him again, just as I had been used to do, while one hand was under his head, me kneeling behind him in the straw, and the other hand resting on his nose--I spoke to him again, and I could feel him try to lift his head, but he didn't. Then the light shining on his great staring eyes, I either saw, or fancied I did, the tears rolling out of them--but I'm not sure, for I could not see clear just then; while, after a few minutes' silence, I half started to my feet, frightened like, for the chestnut gave a wild hollow cry, that you could have heard all through the mews, and then there was a shivering run through him, and it was all over. Not as I knew it though, till Wispey Joe spoke to me, for the horse's cry had woke him up. "He was a good horse, and I hope he's gone where there's pleasant green pastures and clear flowing rivers, such as I used to hear about when I had a chance of going to a place of worship. Perhaps it's wrong to think such things as that there's a place after this life for poor dumb beasts; but many of 'em almost seems to need something to look forward to, for they gets a sorry time of it here, what with blows, and kicks, and bad living; and I don't care, but a man who'd be wilfully a brute to a dumb animal wouldn't be worry partickler about being a brute to his brother man. I offended one of our drivers one day, after he'd been a thrashing a horse, by asking some one which was the brute--the horse or the man. "And that's all about that poor old chestnut, and I daresay you'll laugh at me for being so soft about him, but we all have strange feelings at times, and I hope as everyone as puts on a bit of crape for one as is gone to his long home, feels his loss as truly as I did that of my poor old 'oss. "`Here have I been fidgetted to death about you,' the missus says. `Come, sit down, and have a bit of breakfast. Can't eat? Nonsense! What?' "`The poor old chestnut's dead,' I says; and she never pressed me no more. "But, lor' ma'am, only to think of it. I began telling you about my rheumatics coming on again here, and went right off about the old chestnut horse." "Poor horse!" I said, and rose to go. "Must you go so soon, ma'am," he said; "well, yes, I suppose so, but time does seem so long here listening to other fellows who are ill and groaning, and your coming did cheer me up so it made my tongue run like anything. Good bye, ma'am, good bye."