When I was very small, my mother stood under a tree. I was drinking her milk before I began to eat grass. ı grew with some other young horses. We were vey happy to run and jump in the fields.
When I stopped taking her milk, my mother went to work every day. She came back in the evening. I told her all about my day. She said "I'm glad you are happy," and "Play as much as you can. But you must remember that you are not like these other young horses. They are all going to be frm horses. They're good horses, but not like us. Your father is well known in this part of the country, and your grandfather -my father- was Lord Westland's best horse. When you're a little older, you'll learn to take people on your back or to take them from place to place in their carriages."
I asked, "Is that what your work is, mother? Is that what you do for Farmer Grey?" "Yes, that's what I do. Farmer Grey sometimes rides me and sometimes drives me as his carriage horse. Here he is now." Farmer Grey came into the field. He was a good, kind man, and he liked my mother very much.
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