The Morning Star And Catholic Messenger

OLD HORSE MOT.

"Well, boys, you want me to tell you a story. What shall it be about--the 'Little Traveler,' 'The Lame Boy,' or kindness to animals? Oh, I see--you like the last, for you think there will be a horse running through the story; and as I saw one of you impatient with Old Billy the other day because he did not go fast enough with his heavy load, I think I will tell you about my faithful horse Mot.

On our farm we had a fine pasture, where our horses were often put to rest and enjoy themselves. I used to delight in watching them, for each horse was a character in himself. We had a boy to take care of them. He was told to be kind and gentle, and never abuse them. So far as we knew he obeyed orders. But one day I went into the stable, and found Mot kicking furiously. I was surprised, for he was gentle and good-natured, but very wise and cunning for a horse. As I had never seen him out of temper before, I suspected something was wrong.

Mike was questioned. He declared nothing had been done to the horse. "To be sure," said he, "Mot is an awful smart horse for tricks. I tie him in the stall; and he unties himself with his teeth and gets out; and not content with his own company, he lets loose the other horse, and away they go into the fields, and give me a nice chase of it." With these words Mike went towards Mot to pat him, and was greeted with a snort and a ferocious kick.

I told my nephew to go to Mot. The horse would wait a little before accusing him. I began to suspect the boy, but cautioned him. He was quiet, and rubbed his nose affectionately against Willie's sleeve. Then I went to him, and received the same treatment.

Mike approached, too; Mot's foot was in the air in a second, and nearly hit his nose. I began to think Mike's temper had been felt by Mot, and that, as the horse could not tell me about it, he had taken the matter into his own hands or, I should say, feet.

I told Mike he was at fault, and had struck Mot so hard sometimes that he remembered it. I said that if he abused that patient animal again he should lose his place. Mike confessed that the capers of the horse had angered him, and he had given him a piece of his mind.

"What did he do, Mike, to plague you?"

"Just this, sir. You see that oat box yonder. He smelled the oats and unhitched his halter, and went over there and pulled the cover off with his teeth, and you see how he chawed the corner off in doing it, and there I found him just stuffing himself to death. I took him out of that and put him in the stall again, thinking he had done mischief enough for one day.

He stood meek like, as though he was sorry. You know, sir, I'm saving all the eggs of that black hen. Well, she was hopping and clucking about Mot's manger. Finding him so still and easy, she thought she would lay an egg there, he never saying a word to the contrary, but keeping as dumb as if asleep. She'd no sooner laid the egg than he came to his wits; and sure, if he didn't eat the egg up quicker than I could get to him, and gave me a knowing look, as much as to say, 'Didn't I fool you and that old lady hen!' This his head was so knowing. So I just took the pitchfork and stuck him with it a bit, and, you see, either the egg or the oats didn't agree with him, for he's been cross ever since."

"Oh, Mike, I think it was the pitchfork that troubled him. No more such treatment my lad. He is only a horse, and knows no better; you are a boy, and have been taught to control yourself. You have been kindly and gently treated when you have done wrong. God sees your cruelty, and yet pardons you and gives you many blessings, but you are more ungrateful than the animal under your care. Do you remember, when Mot's leg was cut, how quietly he stood and let Annie bathe and bind it up? How afterwards he followed her about like a kitten, even walking into the kitchen after her? How, when he was scampering over the fields and would not let you touch him, he came at her call, and licked her hand, and followed her into the stable? Was there not some affection and gratitude in this dumb beast? And will you, my lad, let that horse be better than you, when you can think, speak and act, and have a soul that can inherit Heaven? Oh, Mike! learn a lesson from mischievous Mot; and remember, he only showed temper in self-defence--you showed it in spite. Be kind to everything God has made; love everything because He made it, and thus show your gratitude to Him for all he has given you. Go, Mike, and feed Mot with some sugar out of your hand; you will find him forgiving and gentle, and learn from a horse the lesson that will be worth so much to you all your life."

Now, boys, you may be sure that Mike and Mot became fast friends. When Mike grew older he declared that he had left the worst of his temper in the stable that day, and he hoped Mot had swallowed it along with the egg, for he found he had less of it every time he went to the stable to work.

Mike has learned to control himself, and is now a peaceable man. You don't see him striking any person or animal, but he uses good, kind words. They last longer than blows, boys, and the Lord always blesses the giver.--Young Catholic.

A philosopher has said: He who is passionate and hasty is generally honest. It is your cold, dissembling hypocrite of whom you should beware. There's no deception in a bull dog. It is only the cur that sneaks up and bites you when your back is turned.