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they don't
do it now."
    "What did they do it for then?" said Ginger.
    "For fashion!" said the old horse with a stamp of his foot; "for
fashion! if you know what that means; there was not a well-bred
young horse in my time that had not his tail docked in that
shameful way, just as if the good God that made us did not know
what we wanted and what looked best."
    "I suppose it is fashion that makes them strap our heads up with
those horrid bits that I was tortured with in London," said
Ginger.
    "Of course it is," said he; "to my mind, fashion is one of the
wickedest things in the world. Now look, for instance, at the way
they serve dogs, cutting off their tails to make them look plucky,
and shearing up their pretty little ears to a point to make them
both look sharp, forsooth. I had a dear friend once, a brown
terrier; 'Skye' they called her. She was so fond of me that she
never would sleep out of my stall; she made her bed under the
manger, and there she had a litter of five as pretty little puppies
as need be; none were drowned, for they were a valuable kind, and
how pleased she was with them! and when they got their eyes open
and crawled about, it was a real pretty sight; but one day the man
came and took them all away; I thought he might be afraid I should
tread upon them. But it was not so; in the evening poor Skye
brought them back again, one by one in her mouth; not the happy
little things that they were, but bleeding and crying pitifully;
they had all had a piece of their tails cut off, and the soft flap
of their pretty little ears was cut quite off. How their mother
licked them, and how troubled she was, poor thing! I never forgot
it. They healed in time, and they forgot the pain, but the nice
soft flap, that of course was intended to protect the delicate part
of their ears from dust and injury, was gone forever. Why don't
they cut their own children's ears into points to make them look
sharp? Why don't they cut the end off their noses to make them look
plucky? One would be just as sensible as the other. What right have
they to torment and disfigure God's creatures?"
    Sir Oliver, though he was so gentle, was a fiery old fellow, and
what he said was all so new to me, and so dreadful, that I found a
bitter feeling toward men rise up in my mind that I never had
before. Of course Ginger was very much excited; she flung up her
head with flashing eyes and distended nostrils, declaring that men
were both brutes and blockheads.
    "Who talks about blockheads?" said Merrylegs, who just came up
from the old apple-tree, where he had been rubbing himself against
the low branch. "Who talks about blockheads? I believe that is a
bad word."
    "Bad words were made for bad things," said Ginger, and she told
him what Sir Oliver had said.
    "It is all true," said Merrylegs sadly, "and I've seen that
about the dogs over and over again where I lived first; but we
won't talk about it here. You know that master, and John and James
are always good to us, and talking against men in such a place as
this doesn't seem fair or grateful, and you know there are good
masters and good grooms beside ours, though of course ours are the
best."
    This wise speech of good little Merrylegs, which we knew was
quite true, cooled us all down, especially Sir Oliver, who was
dearly fond of his master; and to turn the subject I said, "Can any
one tell me the use of blinkers?"
    "No!" said Sir Oliver shortly, "because they are no use."
    "They are supposed," said Justice, the roan cob, in his calm
way, "to prevent horses from shying and starting, and getting so
frightened as to cause accidents."
    "Then what is the reason they do not put them on riding horses;
especially on ladies' horses?" said I.
    "There is no reason at all," said he quietly, "except the
fashion; they say that a horse would be so frightened to see the
wheels of his own cart or carriage coming behind him that he would
be sure to run away, although of course when he is ridden he sees
them all about him if the