After which I got a solemn scolding for
asking the "puir beast to jump intil sic a saft bottomless place."
We moved into our frame house in the fall, when mother with the rest
of the family arrived from Scotland, and, when the winter snow began
to fly, the bur-oak shanty was made into a stable for Jack. Father
told us that good meadow hay was all he required, but we fed him corn,
lots of it, and he grew very frisky and fat. About the middle of
winter his long hair was full of dust and, as we thought, required
washing. So, without taking the frosty weather into account, we gave
him a thorough soap and water scouring, and as we failed to get him
rubbed dry, a row of icicles formed under his belly. Father happened
to see him in this condition and angrily asked what we had been about.
We said Jack was dirty and we had washed him to make him healthy.
He told us we ought to be ashamed of ourselves, "soaking the puir
beast in cauld water at this time o' year"; that when we wanted to
clean him we should have sense enough to use the brush and curry-comb.
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