The first thing that I remember is a green field enclosed by a stiff fence, where I was running about by my mother’s side. I cannot call to mind the earliest days of my existence, but I am sure that I was not more than a fortnight old when my mother gave me my first lesson in life—a lesson I have never forgotten. My mother was a fine bay mare, the property of Mr. Bayne, a farmer, who seems to have treated her very kindly; indeed I have never heard any horse speak better of a master than my mother was accustomed to speak of the man who owned her. ‘He has never laid a whip upon me,’ she would say with a proud toss of her head; ‘he has a heart far too kind for that sort of thing, and he knows …
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