Here is another story about my father's wise old horse, Billy.

One day, when my father wished to go away to the mill, he sent my brother Robert down to the pasture to catch Billy. Robert brought the horse up to the house, tied him to the fence in the backyard, and gave him some oats in a pail.

In a pen back of the house we kept three pigs: two of them were white; and the other was spotted,—black and white. These pigs had got out of the pen by pushing off a board from one side of it.

Soon after Billy began to eat his dinner, the two white pigs came running through the yard. They saw Billy eating his oats; and, thinking it would be nice for them to have some as well as he, they ran up to his pail, and without as much as saying, "By your leave," began to help themselves.

Billy had no idea of sharing his dinner with such company as this: so he lopped back his ears, looked as cross as he possibly could, snapped at the pigs fiercely with his teeth, raised his hind-feet from the ground, as if to kick them, and at last succeeded in frightening them away.

Scarcely had they left the yard, however, before the spotted pig got his eye upon the pail of oats; and he at once ran for it with all his might.

Billy tried to scare him as he had the others; but Spotty was not so easily frightened. He took no notice of any thing but the oats.

Finding that threats were of no use, Billy seized him by the back of the neck, raised him about two feet from the ground, shook him a little, and then let him drop.

Spotty was satisfied. He lost his appetite for oats, and ran squealing out of the yard.