May I never forget the spirited little jade, the off-leader in thethird stage, the petted belle of the route, the nervous, coquettish,mincing mare of Marshy Hope. A spoiled beauty she was; you could seethat as she took the road with dancing step, tossing her pretty headabout, and conscious of her shining purple coat and her tail done up"in any simple knot,"--like the back hair of Shelley's BeatriceCenci. How she ambled and sidled and plumed herself, and now andthen let fly her little heels high in air in mere excess of larkishfeeling.

"So! girl; so! Kitty," murmurs the driver in the softest tones ofadmiration; "she don't mean anything by it, she's just like akitten."