TWO young colts, each by the side of its mother, were at pasture in adjoining fields. The mother of one, coming to the dividing fence, and putting her head over it, said to her neighbor:

“Just look at the color of my colt! Was there ever a lovelier bay? Before another spring has passed over his head I expect to see him in the stable of some millionaire. You know what a rage there is among rich men for fast horses. Now, look at the points in my colt—his long, clean limbs, his deer-like shape, his full eye and broad nostril. I am as certain of his speed as if he had just been around the track and I heard the time-keeper calling out:

“‘Two minutes ten and a half seconds!’”

“I have been looking at your colt,” replied the other, “and admit he promises well; but what do you think of the little roan on this side the fence? Now, I wouldn’t care to have him in a millionaire’s stable, or put him there, if I could, by a wish. Those rich men think of nobody but themselves, and keep fine horses only to swell their own importance. Then they are speculators, to a man; there’s no telling how long they’ll keep their money. Let that go, and their horses go with it, to the jockey and the race-course, to be abused and betted on and driven to death.

“No; I would rather see my colt in the hands of some grand, rich lady—the gem of her stable, her daily companion and pet. And is he not made for it? Look at his round, short body, so plump and easily kept; his strong, arched neck, and his beautiful thick mane and tail. And mark my words: it won’t be long before all that I predict about him comes true. In fact, I think I know who the lady is already. She drives by here in her barouche with liveried coachman and footman, each with a bouquet in his buttonhole, and as she passes I can see her looking over the fence.”

Here we will imagine that several years have suddenly vanished, and we are again visiting the fields where the[413]
[414] above interview took place. One of them is being ploughed, and a stout roan horse is stepping briskly in front of the furrow; the other field its owner is clearing of stones, and a young bay is hauling out a heavy cart-load of them. Both horses are strong and willing helpers on the farm, earning an honest living, valued and well cared for by their masters, and far better off than they would be if left to the heedless servants of the fashionable lady or the proud millionaire.

What weakness and folly do we often show in the secret expectations we cherish concerning those who are to come after us! And how well it is for them that the shaping of their destinies is not in our hands!