The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1870-05-24
earned Ont 60 NE.

Saturday afternoon there hobbled up
Grand River street, following his master,
an old gray horse, SO lame that be could
hardly step, and his bones marked plaia
ly through his faded skin: He was be-
ing led out to die. The man jerked and
pulled to make him hobble the faster,
and stopped several to incite him to 8
quicker gait by oaths and kicks. But
the poor beast could do no better, even
though he was to have liberty at least
from work and toll. At Third street the
halter was slipped from his head, he was
given last kick. and he hobblcd of,
going away to die Audif the poor old
horse could have but spoken! He might
have tod of years of toll, of days when
the mangcr was empty, of louder oatlis
aud harder kicks He was almost 'tfir@
ty years old, turnetieout at last because
he could not work, could no loDgecsre-
turn a recompense for the little food that
was given him that he might not starss
and fall dead in the sable Perhaps III
|once pranced along before the carriage
of wealth, champing his bit and arch,
ing his neck, tossing his head in con
tempt at the osersorked beasts that
passed him on the way. One day there
came change for him, because he had
even then grown old, and hts step was
not so light, and his pace was slower,
and lie vas made hack horse. lie was
driven early and late; he was pushed,
when ready to drop from travel !, he was
whipped when he knew not for what
The drivers stormed at him, struck him
hard blows.
He use TO stand in his stall and won
der why men abused him 80 when he
tried 70 be faithful Henever complain
cd Of his hay and oats, and if they took
him out again for work before he ,haf
finished his meal, he gave no outward.
sign that told of the still hungry feeling
within him. Over the cobble stones. UP
and down the streets, out in the hot. sun,
the cold rains, the SHOW and the driving
blasts, and poor Tom was at last so sore
and lame that there came morning
when he was sick, and when he told them
bv his groanS that he could not work,
and that his blood WAS like trc aud his
whole body aching. they called him hard
names and said that another amt better
horse should have his place. And whcn
he got little better. they made hini
hobble away, and sold him to a cartman.
And for years the poor beast drcY, q dray,
and was pounded and overloaded, and
there came another day when he could
not pull even the cart, and then lie was.
left to take care OF himself. And he
was led away ON Saturday-turned out
on the commons to stand aud SILVER III
the blast to see plenty around him, and
yet be hungry; to think (for horse can
think of man ing-atitude. lie limped
off toward the lcafess trees, their barren
branches cold and desolate, like his own
dreary Winter of old age. And, the
darkness found him there, the night )
wind whistling through the branches,
tossing mp his yellow name and faded
hair. He was waiting, not fer another
morning-not for his master-not for
food lie was waiting there for death.
He knew, perhaps, that death was, not
far away, and that it would not be long
ere he would fall, and then, the passcr;,
by would note the dead body. Of the
horse nothing moro. No board will
be put up with Tom engraved thereon;
no one viii stop to lament no one speak
Of the useful life; no one care-he was
nothing buta horse-Detroit Free Press.