The Helena independent. [volume] (Helena, Mont.) 1875-1943, 1890-07-10


ment, writes H. @. Merriam in the July
Atlantic. He is reckoned to be seventeen
years old, and he has contemporary in the
Dartmouth Street station. also hose horse,
who entered the department in the same
year.
melancholy aspect. He has way Of stand ana,
hanging down between, and a doleful ex-
preston of the face. Az 81 or. who saw
him once in this attitude, remarked that he
would make a good ''image of Grief" and
the name seemed 80 appropriate that it
was adopted by common consent. Grief"
id. duly nS IL sFe be- Is 01 Inonn
through the department and to. all the
neiehbors. Grief is a remarkable horse; in
color a rich notified brown, and in shape
much resembling the other old horses al
ready described. He has massive, we'll
formed shoulder, strong, straight fore legs.
bone. however) a good neck, slightly arched,
rather intelligent, clean-cut head,
but mulish ears. His popularity is a
philosophical, phlegmatic disposition. He
has hearty appetite and sound digestion,
but he never shows the least impatience for
his meals. Other horses paw and neigh
the oat box, but Grief never betrays the
least sign of curiosity or interest. The
children of the vicinity often come to this
house to give the horse candy, and the
span of bays who draw the engine always
recognize their benefactors, and will follow
them about the stable: But Grief, though
glad enough to be fed, never takes the
slightest notice of any visitor beyond swal-
lowing what is offered to him. He sleeps a
great deal, Eliminates still more, and allows
nothing outside of business to disturbe or
excite him; and hence, no doubt, his excel
lent state Of preservation.
But Grief wakes up when the alarm
strikes. However long or steep the road,
however fast may gallop. the stout young
bavs in front. he always keeps up with the
engine. The strength and nervous force
that he acoumulates in the stable Grief e1-
ponds lavishly on the way to a fire. His
eye is then full of spirit; his expanded
neck curves to the task; his splendid
shoulder strains against the collar. He
looks twice the size of the horse that was
doing in his stall a few minutes before.
Arrived at the scene of action, he draws up
as close as possible to the engine. Grief
likes to get where the sparks fall in showers
about him, and there he will stand, shaking
his head to dislodge the burning particles,
pleased with the shrieks and roar of the
engine, with the shouts of the men, with
the smoke and flame of the confagration.
At the fire in Boston on Thanksgiving day
of last year the engine which he followed
was burned within twenty-five minutes
after it left the house; but Grief stood by it,
firm as rock, till the flames came near and
The patriarch of the department is, how
ever, not Grief, but another horse, stationed
in East Boston, and called Old Joe. His
age is variously estimated, but I gather
that it is at least twenty years, and possibly
twenty-four. Joe is not as impressive as
Grief; he is more like the rest of us being
swayed by curiosity, touched by social af-
fections, and dependent upon society. He
has a gentle, Intelligent, courageous eye
and good head and ears. His great age
is indicated by an extremely hollow hack,
but otherwise he is still grand looking
and not unlike Grief, except that he is even
larger. In fact. the four old fire horses
whom have particularly described would
have made great team in their youth
broad chested. deep-lunged, rather low
standing, short-backed fellows, with inn
mense shoulders, roomy stomachs and strong
hind quarters. Joe is an engine horse.
His mate, though in comparison with him a
mere colt, is, in truth, an oldish beast; and
the two agreed some time ago that they
would trot out no more from their stalls
when the alarm sounded (having, as it
seemed to them, done that sort of thing
quite long enough, but would proceed from
the stable to the pole at dignifed walk.
This resolution has been kept. The fire.
men have tried to worry them, but without
success. Rattan rods (such as schoolboys
used to be whipped With are hung behind
their stalls, and descend automatically
when the alarm strikes; but the old horses
smile at this gentle fagellatlon; they refuse
to hurry their pace. and, alone among the
slow and measured step from the stable to
the engine-room,