In 1880 I met with a very severe railroad accident, in which many of my
valuable horses were injured; and among them an "entry" horse which,
being of considerable value, I ordered to be taken on the train again,
after the wreck was cleared away; but we could not use him for several
days as he was so bruised that he presented a horrible appearance. One
day, however, just as the "grand entry" was going into the ring, our
head groom was surprised at the entrance of this horse. The creature
had dashed into the ring with the others of his companions, and without
bridle, saddle or halter, he went through the figures as he had been in
the habit of doing before he was injured. The music was stopped, and
our groom wanted to have the horse taken out, but I refused. Hearing
the familiar music by which he had always entered the ring and
performed his acts, habit was stronger than bodily pain, and,
unfastening his rope in some unaccountable way, he had burst upon us.
There is no doubt that a horse does know when his particular music
strikes up, for I have often watched them at that time. They will rear
and prance and if secured will make every endeavor to get loose. I lost
this horse later in a wreck and few similar losses have grieved me
more.
Hearing once that Professor Bartholomew had some wonderful horses I
determined to purchase them, although I had really retired from the
circus business. I saw the owner and paid him $10,000 for the horses
and exhibited them in the New York Aquarium, where they drew great
crowds. Among this troupe was the well-known Nettle, the most beautiful
animal I ever saw, being of a cream color and about fourteen hands
high. He was remarkable more particularly for his jumping feats, being
able to jump over an eight-foot gate and six horses, doing this act
twice a day for four years. Finally he was able to jump over a gate and
eight horses: but this feat was too great a strain and I would not
allow it to be repeated. Like a human being he would never undertake
this jump until he had first examined the horses carefully to see that
all was as it should be, and then, with apparent pride and confidence,
he would make his leap. The act performed, he would trot to his trainer
with all the pride of one who had accomplished what had been expected
of him.