162 BLACK BEAUTY.
I won't cast it up to you any more about, the police; it was the look in that horse's eye that came over me. It is hard lines for man, and it is hard lines for beast, and who's to mend it I don't know; but any way you might tell the poor beast that you were sorry to take it out of him in that way. Sometimes a kind word is all we can give 'em, poor brutes, and His wonderful what they do understand."
A few mornings after this talk a new man came on the stand with Sam's cab.
" Halloo!" said one, " what's up with Seedy Sam?"
" He's ill in bed," said the man; " he was taken last night in the yard, and could scarcely crawl home. His wife sent a boy this morning to say his father was in a high fever and could not get out; so I'm here instead."
The next morning the same man came again.
" How is Sam ?" inquired the Governor.
" He's gone," said the man.
" What! gone?" You don't mean to say he's dead?"
" Just snuffed out," said the other; " he died at four o'clock this morning; all yesterday he was ravingóraving about Skinner, and having no Sundays, 'I never had a Sunday's rest' were his last words."
No one spoke for awhile, and then the Governor said, " I tell you what, mates, this is a warning for us."
One day, whilst our cab and many others were waiting outside one of the parks where music was playing, a shabby old cab drove up beside ours. The horse was an old, worn-out chestnut, with an ill-kept coat, and bones that