Mr.Morris often reads his sermons to me, and Miss Laura tells me secrets that I don't think she would tell to any one else.
I watched Mr.Wood carefully, while he groomed a huge, gray cart-horse, that he called Dutchman.

He took a brush in his right hand, and a curry-comb in his left, and he curried and brushed every part of the horse's skin, and afterward wiped him with a cloth.

"A good grooming is equal to two quarts of oats, Joe," he said to me.
Then he stooped down and examined the horse's hoofs.

"Your shoes are too heavy, Dutchman," he said; "but that pig-headed blacksmith thinks he knows more about horses than I do.

'Don't cut the sole nor the frog,' I say to him.