told him that it would be all right, that I was allowed to do as I pleased with the horses.  I was seventy miles from home, with a carriage to take back, and Mr. Payne said he did not know that his horse had ever had a collar on.  I asked to have him hitched to a farm wagon and we would soon see whether he would work.  It was soon evident that the horse had never worn harness before; but he showed no viciousness, and I expressed a confidence that I could manage him.  A trade was at once struck, I receiving ten dollars difference.

The next day Mr. Payne, of Georgetown, and I started on our return.  We got along very well for a few miles, when we encountered a ferocious dog that frightened the horses and made them run.  The new animal kicked at every jump he made.  I got the horses stopped, however, before any damage was done, and without running into anything.  After giving them a little rest, to quiet their fears, we started again.  That instant the new horse kicked, and started to run once more.  The road we were on, struck the turnpike within half a mile of the point where the second runaway commenced, and there there was an embankment twenty or more feet deep on the opposite side of the pike.  I got the horses stopped on the very brink of the precipice.  My new horse was terribly frightened and trembled like an aspen; but he was not half so badly frightened as my companion, Mr. Payne, who deserted me after this last experience, and took passage on a freight wagon for Maysville.  Every time I attempted to start, my new horse would commence to kick.  I was in quite a dilemma for a time.  Once in Maysville I could borrow a horse from an uncle who lived there; but I was more than a day’s travel from that point.  Finally I took out my bandanna—­the style of handkerchief in universal use then—­and with this blindfolded my horse.  In this way I reached Maysville safely the next day, no doubt much to the surprise of my friend.  Here I borrowed a horse from my uncle, and the following day we proceeded on our journey.

About half my school-days in Georgetown were spent at the school of John D. White, a North Carolinian, and the father of Chilton White who represented the district in Congress for one term during the rebellion.  Mr. White was always a Democrat in politics, and Chilton followed his father.  He had two older brothers—­all three being school-mates of mine at their father’s school—­who did not go the same way.  The second brother died before the rebellion began; he was a Whig, and afterwards a Republican.  His oldest brother was a Republican and brave soldier during the rebellion.  Chilton is reported as having told of an earlier horse-trade of mine.  As he told the story, there was a Mr. Ralston living within a few miles of the village, who owned a colt which I very much wanted.  My father had offered twenty dollars for it, but Ralston wanted twenty-five.  I was so anxious to have the colt, that after the