A Roman nose, accentuated by a wide stripe, aided the pensive expression of his drooping under lip.

He leaned against the shafts as if he were tired.
"There, Marm," said the owner, eying my face as an amused expression stole over it; "ef you don't care for style, ef ye want a good, steddy critter, and a critter that can go, and a critter that any lady can drive, there's the critter for ye!" I did buy at last, for life had become a burden.

An interested neighbor (who really pitied me ?) induced me to buy a pretty little black horse.

I named him "O.K." After a week I changed to "N.G." After he had run away, and no one would buy him, "D.B." At last I succeeded in exchanging this shying and dangerous creature for a melancholy, overworked mare at a livery stable.

I hear that "D.B." has since killed two I-talians by throwing them out when not sufficiently inebriated to fall against rocks with safety.
And my latest venture is a backer.
Horses have just as many disagreeable traits, just as much individuality in their badness, as human beings.