Now and again Maxy would ride him home in the evening, and if there chanced to be a horse at the forge anxious for a test, there would be a race or some trial at pulling. Tales of his speed and strength spread for miles around, and all who called at the Inn or the forge were anxious to see him. But they always said afterward it was a shame to turn such a fine animal into a mere farm-horse. Shepard had his answer ready, that he “was but a farmer himself, and needed a good plow-horse--not a racer eating its head off in his stable.” Through honesty and that thrift for which the Vermonter is famous Shepard soon acquired considerable wealth, and wanting a larger place he exchanged the Morgan, his smithy, and the Farmers’ Inn for the large farm on Dog River, belonging to James Hawkins. Thus, Morgan changed owners, but not homes, for Hawkins came to Montpelier to live. The horse was glad of this, for he liked the musical ring of the hammer on the anvil and the glare of the forge as the handle of the bellows was raised and lowered. Montpelier, organized in 1793, was a village of little consequence, but one of its citizens was a man of parts, staunch and true, and destined to rise to the high position of Secretary of State. His name was David Wing, Jr., and he often borrowed the Morgan from Hawkins for as much as a week at a time. Under the comfortable saddle of Master Wing, Morgan first saw the beautiful Winooski, with its sweep of eddies and currents, its foaming rapids and singing falls. David loved nature and good scenery as much as Morgan and their trips were sweet and pleasant through lovely, fertile valleys and across densely wooded hills; along frequented highways or vague trails through the forests. Sometimes they went as far as Burlington and Morgan had to cross many streams and wade through foaming, circling water, which, when very deep, gave him a sense of adventure. He was always ready to swim if the need came, and would have hesitated at nothing his rider set him to do, such confidence did he feel in Man-wisdom. If they were not in a hurry David would allow him to play along the way, knowing well enough the horse would not abuse the privilege. He rode with a loose rein, and on the way home would let the Morgan choose his own gait and trail. The firm touch on the bridle was as light as a woman’s, but Morgan was not fooled by it. He well knew this was a rider who would brook no impertinence, and it kept him steady and respectful, even while he took advantage of the permission to frolic a little. These two saw many strange sights in their wanderings--sights that later history proved were the making of a fine and sturdy race of men and horses.