Towards this animal Farmer Bold now pointed, removing his hand from his chin for the purpose. "I wur a-lookin' at Blackbird," he said, "poor wold chap! He was a good beast in his day, but I d' 'low his day be fair done. Tis the last night what Blackbird 'ull spend in this 'ere stall." "Why," cried Mrs. Bold quickly, "ye don't mean to say--" "I mean to say," interrupted her husband, turning to her with a resolutely final air, "I mean to say as Blackbird's sold." "Sold!" ejaculated the woman incredulously. "Who'd ever go for to buy Blackbird?--wi'out it be one o' they rag-and-bone men, or maybe for a salt cart. Well, Joe," with gathering ire, "I didn't think ye'd go for to give up the faithful wold fellow after all these years, to be knocked about and ill-used at the last." "Nay, and ye needn't think it--ye mid know as I wouldn't do sich a thing," returned her lord with equal heat. "I've sold en"--he paused, continuing with some hesitation, as he nodded sideways over his shoulder, "I've a-sold en up yonder for the kennels." "What! To be ate up by them there nasty hounds? Joseph!" "Come now," cried the farmer defiantly, "ye must look at it sensible, Mary. Poor Blackbird, he be a-come to his end, same as we all must come to it soon or late. He 've a-been goin' short these two years--ye could see that for yourself--and now his poor wold back be a-givin' out, 'tis the most merciful thing to destroy en. They'll turn en out to-week in the field up along--beautiful grass they have there--and he'll enjoy hisself a bit, and won't know nothin' about it when they finish en off." "I al'ays thought as we'd keep Blackbird so long as he did live," murmured Mrs. Bold, half convinced but still lamenting, "seein' as we did breed en and bring en up ourselves, and he did work so faithful all his life. Poor wold Jinny! He wur her last colt, and you did al'ays use to say you'd keep en for her sake. Ah, 'tis twenty year since I run out and found en aside of her in the paddock--walkin' about as clever as you please, and not above two hours old. Not a white hair on en--d'ye mind?--and such big, strong legs! I was all for a-callin' en Beauty, but you said Beauty was a filly's name. And he did use to run to paddock-gate when he wur a little un, and I wur a-goin' to feed chicken--he'd know my very foot, and he'd come prancin' to meet I, and put his little nose in the bucket. Dear, to be sure, I mind it just so well as if it wur yesterday!" The farmer laughed and stroked his beard.