I remember taking a walk one afternoon during the haymaking
season to the field where Terry was at work. Mr. ---- had driven to the
village with the farm horses, leaving Terry to draw in hay with a
rheumatic old animal that was well nigh unfit for use. But as the hay
was in good condition for getting in, and the sky betokened rain, he
told Terry, upon leaving home, to accomplish as much as possible during
his absence, and he would, if the rain kept off, draw in the remainder
upon his return. As I drew nigh I spied Terry perched upon the top of a
load of hay holding the reins, and urging forward the horse, in the
ascent of a very steep hill. First he tried coaxing, and as that proved
of little avail, he next tried the effect of a few vigorous strokes with
a long switch which he carried in his hand. When the poor old horse had
dragged the heavy load about half way up the hill, he seemed incapable
of further exertion, and horse, cart, Terry and all began a rapid
backward descent down the hill.
Here the boy's patience gave way entirely. "Musha thin, bad luck to ye
for one harse," said he as he applied the switch with renewed energy.
Just then I arrived within speaking distance and said, "Do you think,
Terry you would be any better off if you had two of them.
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