766
HARPER'S
NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
agitation of the horse increased;
and when he reached a point in the road opposite to where the body was
found, the excitement of the horse was so great that he became altogether
unmanageable. The gentlemen present checked their course, and looked
on with profound astonishment. His flesh quivered, his nostrils
distended, and his eyes glancing into the woods near by, he stood snorting
and neighing—a sublime picture of the wildest excitement. One of the
gentlemen present, suspecting the cause of the horse's agitation,
suggested that he should have a loose rein, which being granted, the noble
animal instantly rushed into the thicket, and coming to a certain
tree, commenced pawing at its roots, then trotting farther into the
forest, he circled round and returned to the same spot, where he stood
pawing and trembling with agitation, until violently forced away.
Similar conduct was always observed in him whenever he passed that
particular spot.
Upon the trial, the startling
testimony of this ‘‘eloquent witness” against the prisoner caused a thrill
of feeling like an electric shock to run through the court-room. No blood
had ever been seen on the road, and no appearance of any unusual struggle
was visible. If the killing took place in the highway, the horse would
have known nothing of the terrible tree in the neighboring thicket;
if the fatal deed were committed where the body was found, then the court
had no jurisdiction, and the murderer would escape. But all this was not
to be. The intelligent horse —whose sagacity in his neighborhood was
proverbial, whose attachment to his master was such that he followed
him like a spaniel about the farm-yard—in thrilling pantomime enacted the
scene of the terrible murder, pictured the decoy into the wood, the
robber's demand for gold or blood, and the death-struggle under the fatal
tree ! Nature eloquent vindicated by a seeming miracle the unerring
certainty of retributive justice—the venue, by this voiceless
witness, was proved beyond a doubt—proved by faithful affections
steeled to the wiles of the corruptor, and whose testimony was
“confirmation strong,” as proof of Holy Writ. The doom of the prisoner was
sealed. In that gloomy catacomb of human hearts and hopes — the
penitentiary—the prisoner, for the eternity of his life, now expiates
his crime.
There are no better judges of
horses than itinerant preachers. From the very necessities of their
calling, they are constantly dependent upon their services, and thus
naturally become acquainted with all their good and bad qualities. We
have one of these backwoods’ apostles in our mind's eye, whose “circuit”
was in a Southwestern State. He was born in Virginia, and I have always
suspected that his infant eyes opened upon a race-track. Be that as it
may, a certificate of character from him in favor of a horse was of
commercial value. Indifferent about his personal comfort and personal
appearance, he insisted upon being well mounted, and seemed always
ready to “run the good race.”
On one occasion he was pressing
his way to “meeting,” when his progress was obstructed by a crowd in the
road engaged in the preliminaries of a “scrub race.” Compelled to
stop a moment, he involuntarily examined “the cattle” entered for the
sport, and spontaneously gave his opinion which one would win.
Suddenly remembering that it was the Sabbath he apologized for his
“worldly mindedness,” and would have passed on, but the crowd had
become uproarious, and “the parson must stay and see the thing out.”
After some properly expressed repugnance he consented, on the
condition that the “ Sabbath-breakers” would accompany him to
church and hear his sermon: this was agreed to without a dissenting voice.
The parson fulfilled his contract with commendable zeal, and “his
constituents” acted in like good faith. As a result, to use the language
of one of the congregation, “ the parson, for their evident wickedness,
used a moral curry-comb with such coarse teeth that he nearly took all the
glossy hair of their self-conceit off their backs.” Unfortunately for
the lasting effects of this well-timed and excellent discourse, the
parson's horse, after the sermon was over, “ took the hit in his
mouth,” and beat “every thing on the road,” in spite of all the
owner's endeavors to restrain him. The more sober and discreet “ brethren”
professed to believe it was an untoward accident; but the “ sinners”
thought there was design in it, and, singularly enough, the parson's
influence was greatly increased among this “branch” of his
congregation.
In the simple biography of one of
these “primitive men,” we read that it was his habit, in
sparsely-settled communities, when night overtook him in a strange place
in the forests, to give his horse the rein, and take up his lodgings at
the first house his faithful creature and companion stopped at; and
he records, with hearty simplicity, that his quarters, thus
“providentially selected, were always the best in the
neighborhood”—not seeming to be aware that a wellfilled crib,
which would naturally attract his horse's attention, always gave promise
of thrift and comfort in the human habitation attached. Bishop McKendree,
one of the early and most esteemed among his people, in his will left
ample provision for the well-keeping of his horse while the animal
lived, illustrating that a merciful man is merciful to his beast.
John Wesley, no doubt influenced by the many obligations he felt
under to the faithful horses that had carried him from place to place in
his long pilgrimage, entertained the idea that they have a hereafter, and
will live at peace and rest in their spirit-land.
Snediker's, on the road leading
from New York to Jamaica, Long Island, is the nestling-place of the
first-rate jockeys and “fast men” of Gotham. If there is any thing that
can get down in the thirties, it is to be seen at Snediker's.
If there is a great match to be made, the preliminaries are settled at
Snediker's. Albeit, an itinerant preacher stationed at Jamaica,
oc-