All the horses would come to him, but I think we were his favorites.

My mother always took him to town on a market-day in a light gig.
We had a ploughboy, Dick, who sometimes came into our field to pluck blackberries from the hedge.

When he had eaten all he wanted he would have what he called fun with the colts, throwing stones and sticks at them to make them gallop.

We did not much mind him, for we could gallop off; but sometimes a stone would hit and hurt us.
One day he was at this game, and did not know that the master was in the next field, watching what was going on; over the hedge he jumped in a snap, and catching Dick by the arm, he gave him such a box on the ear as made him roar with the pain and surprise.

As soon as we saw the master we trotted up nearer to see what went on.
"Bad boy!" he said, "bad boy! to chase the colts.