So Lad fell to my share,--a pretty brown one that is as easy as a rocking-horse after the stiff-jointed old farm-horses that I am used to bouncing around on at home.
They were all ready to start, so we went galloping down to Judge Moore's after Rob, and the five of us raced all over the valley till nearly lunch-time.

It was grand.

The dust flew, and people ran to the windows when we went by, as if we had been a circus.
We did have a sort of circus when we passed by Taylor's grove.

A Butchers' Union had come out from town for a big picnic, and they had a brass band with them.

It struck up a waltz just as we reached the grove, and Joyce's pony, Calico, began turning around and around as if he had lost his senses.