Thus was broken, for a little space, the dull tenor of my sombre life. I often assure myself that death will be brighter than the contemptuous existence I am leading. Of one thing I am convinced, the history of the circus can never be written without mentioning me, the pioneer of horses born with all the true circus instincts. I first saw the light of day in Keene, N. H., not far from the spot where I am passing my last days in oblivion. I was distinguished by a strong frame, was hardy, gentle and active, and could properly be called handsome. Mr. James A. Bailey singled me out when his circus came to New Hampshire, and my career certainly justified all the prophetic things he said about me. I was disappointed when they attached me to the pole-wagon, but felt confident that I would soon rise superior to the rather humble position. The work was long and arduous, and it was several weeks before I became accustomed to the nocturnal train rides, jammed erect among a score of other equines, but I endured it better than many of my companions. Some of them contracted a disease of the foot, caused by continued rain and mud, and in many cases it resulted fatally. I was patient and hopeful through all vicissitudes and arrived at winter quarters in physical condition that attracted general attention. Mr. Melville happened upon me soon after arrival and stopped short in admiring wonder. I knew him as a noted rider and connoisseur of horseflesh and was much elated. Next day Martin Welsh led me to new quarters. He was Mr. Melville’s groom, and the delicious consciousness came that I was in their famous hands. Soon practice began as a ring animal and a great future opened before me. I meditate over the past, here in my loneliness, and wonder if mine is not a career which no other circus animal has equalled. Some of its striking features occur vividly to me. I remember first, with pardonable pride, that it was generally conceded that I was the best “broke” horse in the history of the ring. There seemed to be a vein of harmony in the feeling existing between Mr. Melville and myself. Nothing ever made me nervous or shy. I trusted my master implicitly and I was as accurate and certain in my movements when he was turning somersaults or leaping through fire rings or balloons as when we made the preliminary canter. My broad, muscular back was ever waiting for him to alight just where he planned. Many said much of the credit for his feats was mine. Modesty prevents an expression on my part. We toured America a season and were everywhere received with warm approval. Then we set out for England. Bessie, a fine, gray horse, also from New Hampshire, accompanied us. She was a wonderfully intelligent animal, and the only horse, I understand, who ever was trained to trot in the circus ring. She used to circle the ring at a forty gait, with our owner doing all sorts of tricks upon her back. Poor girl, she died in Hamburg and I missed her sorely for years.