Master Whitman called him True Briton, 2d, for his celebrated father, _True Briton_, but the double name was soon shortened to the very appropriate one of “True.” And, for convenience, we shall speak of his mother as Gipsey. Gipsey was one of those mothers, unknown to history, but to whose early influence her son possibly owed much of his success in later life. Sometimes it was necessary for her to reprove him; she nipped him sharply, if he were playful at the wrong time, or kicked too strongly in fun; but she never had to admonish him twice about anything on account of his remarkable memory. One day, when she had to correct him, and was conscious of having lost her temper, she neighed apologetically. “Alas, my son, I am no better than a woman!” This was unjust, as True discovered later, for some of the strongest friendships of his life were for women; he found them ever generous with maple sugar and the goodies for which he quickly learned to whinney at their kitchen windows. They were more appreciative, too, and did not expect him to perform miracles, as men did who set him tasks that taxed every nerve and muscle. Early each morning Silas Whitman came to the barnyard to play with and train the colt, and from the beginning the little creature showed marvellous characteristics. Never did True forget his first sight of Man! At that time--being quite new-come into the world--he did not know the ways of different animals, and thought Master Whitman very curious as he walked about on his hind legs! The small colt wondered if he would have to do the same when he grew older and his spindly legs grew stronger. He did not fear the friendly man-creature who played so gently,--little by little training him to obey and afterwards rewarding him with a bit of maple sugar. A kind word and a pat was always given to Gipsey, too, and mother and son very soon began to watch for their master’s coming, giving him welcome, with little whinneys, and throaty neighs, when they heard his cheery whistle. When True’s third molar came he had made the acquaintance of a halter. Later in life he came to see that the conveniences of a halter cannot be taught too early. He found out uses for his, all by himself; one was that he could manage to throw the rein over hay that was too high in the rack to reach comfortably, and thus pull it down to an easy height. His mother thought this very ingenious and praised him, which pleased the little fellow very much. When the first molar of his permanent teeth came he had been taught all about a bridle and bit--things he never liked but made the best of, as Gipsey told him they were inevitable. When there were errands in the village Silas would hitch Gipsey up to the “shay” and allow True to trot alongside for exercise and experience. He enjoyed these little jaunts under the giant elms that bordered the street, carpeted with a patchwork of sifting sunshine and cool shadow.