IN WHICH MISTRESS LLOYD, OF MARYLAND, GIVES TRUE HIS FIRST RIBBAND.
One sunny September morning, when the weather was clear and fine
and the trees were waving their crisp, gay-tinted leaves over the
grass-bordered roadways leading to the fair-grounds, the horses were
blanketed and led towards the place of exhibition, for this was the
great opening of the Hartford Fair, and many had come from as far
as New York and Boston to attend it. There was much prancing and
side-stepping among the horses after a fine breakfast to put them in
a good humor.
True had been exhibited once at a small fair in Springfield and
knew a little of what was expected of him, but of course this was
a much greater occasion and a sensation of slight nervousness and
anticipation held his heart.
Some of the younger horses were ill-mannered; they bit at their
grooms or snorted and showed their teeth rudely, which astonished
True, for he had been taught to be polite always. Some of them grew
very excited and some knew they might change owners, and receive
prizes for this trait or that. It was a day long to be remembered by
them all.
What a scene met their eyes when, at last, they were in sight of the
Grounds! Early, as it was, there were more men assembled together
than True had ever seen and they made a point of all talking at once,
which confused the horses no little; they shouted at the tops of
their voices, too, as if everybody were stone deaf.
The women, however, stood quietly, and modestly at one side in little
sheltered booths where they displayed in a most becoming manner
their handiwork: quilts, with beautiful and appropriate names, and
wonderful pieces of hand-woven homespun and linen. Farther on True
espied piles of carrots, squashes and other delicious things which
would have made his mouth water had he not been so bewildered by the
noises. Music sounded and set him dancing and showing his remarkable
muscles to advantage.
Even Beautiful Bay, experienced as he must have been in such events,
seemed to be under the influence of the lively atmosphere and curved
his neck with spirit to the admiration and respect of everyone
who knew the old horse. True felt a little anxiety for the result
when Beautiful Bay was led before the Judges, but this was quite
unnecessary; he returned with a blue ribband on his bridle and a very
satisfied look in his eye.
Then the Three-year-olds were called.
True’s temples throbbed; there were many beautiful horses there and,
being modest, he had not guessed that he was the most beautiful and
meritorious of them all.
When they were led out some bared their teeth, kicked at each other,
and misbehaved shockingly. The contrast between True’s breeding and
theirs was very marked. When the Judges approached some of them even
went so far as to whirl for a kick!
True in his turn, however, stepped out briskly and easily, small,
lean head high, heavy black mane and tail waving lightly in the
morning breeze. But, all suddenly, the stupid groom jerked his halter
sharply.
Startled, the young horse flung himself backward.
“Now, you young rascal!” cried the lout, grandly, as if he were
Mahommed himself, “None of your capers with _me_!”
Not being accustomed to rudeness, True backed, indignantly, and
dragged the boy along with him.
At this moment there was a rustle, like leaves in autumn, or the
brush of wings, and the flying figure of a maid seemed poised beside
the little horse, so light and airy was she.
All the odors of aromatic herbs and grasses of Arabia--myrrh,
frankincense and balsam, of which his mother had told him--enveloped
his imagination and delighted his senses. He thrust his large
tremulous nostrils forward, hungry to inhale more deeply of this new
creature. Never had he scented her like before.
“Oh, please, Mr. Judge!” she cried, and as soon as she spoke
True recognized the dulcet tones of Mistress Lloyd, of Maryland.
Thrilling, as she caught his rein, he calmed himself instantly.
“Don’t let them jerk him so! Ah, my Beauty,” she continued, putting
her cheek against his, “here is a piece of sugar for you!” She
extended the rose-leaf palm, from which he had seen his father eat
one day and on which was another bit of maple sugar. “See, he is so
_willing_ to be good, _if you will but let him_!”
When he had lipped her hand all over very gently, to get the last
crumb, True poked his small muzzle into the hollow of her neck and
listened to her voice murmuring in his ear. All the soft breezes and
blue sky of the universe were concentrated in the delicious spell
of her presence, for this young maiden was one of those rare human
beings who possess a mysterious understanding of animals, especially
horses, which gives a power and control over them--almost miraculous.
True stepped carefully, lest his small well-shaped hoofs might tread
upon the marvellously tiny feet half hidden beneath the flowered
petticoat. All the while her voice was saying soft, delightful things
in his listening ear.
When she finally gave up his rein and turned away, the young horse
followed, drawn as by a magnet and dragged the groom with him, scarce
seeming to feel the boy pulling at the halter.
A murmur of polite laughter made Mistress Lloyd look back.
Smiling sweetly, she turned and stroked True’s broad forehead with
her magic hand, and, telling him softly, to “go back and be judged,”
she reminded him he was at a Fair.
Indeed he needed reminding, for so absorbed had he been in her
loveliness that he had forgotten all else!
The groom then gave a gentler tug at the halter and True consented to
be led before the Judges, who had not yet told the people he was the
finest Three-year-old in New England. “The Hartford Wits” and their
friends, the Maryland Lloyds, watched the consultation of Judges,
hoping the ribband would be given to “Figure.”
In a few moments one of the committee came and spoke a few words to
Mistress Lloyd; she smiled with pleasure, and nodded her pretty head
in assent.
In another moment True heard the sound as of leaves in an autumn
forest, and there she was, beside him once more, a fillet of blue in
her hand.
Daintily she reached the headstall of his halter and firmly she tied
it on--all the while talking to him, oh, so sweetly:
“And so ’tis yours! I knew ’twould be, you beauty! You’re far
lovelier than your father, even, and you must always be a good colt
and make everybody love you as you’ve made me!”
Somehow, True did not mind being called a “colt” by her, it seemed
more like a caress than patronage; but had the _Coxcomb_, standing
by, done it he would have been tempted to take a whirl at him.
“Some day,” went on Mistress Lloyd, “my father will buy you for me
and I shall take you down to Maryland--I want Tom Dulaney to see
you!” True could hear by the tones of her voice as she mentioned his
name that this _Tom Dulaney_ must be a personage of consequence. “You
are small, and some might say not lean enough to hunt, but you are
the dearest animal I ever won the love of!” For ’twas ever the habit
of this fair maid to weave her spell over animals, and well aware was
she of their response!
Then, oh, miracle of delights! as she finished tying the strand she
kissed his straight face with lips that looked and smelled like
crimson clover blossoms wet with dew.
This perfumed dream was broken by a disagreeable laugh, and a
well-bred but none the less offensive voice said:
“The brute will bite you, Mistress.”
It was the Coxcomb speaking.
“I am afraid of no horse living, Master Knickerbocker,” she gave
reply, quietly; then looking straight at him, she finished, “horses
are often truer than men.”
She turned quickly and joined her father.