My dog knew as well when she was on the turn as I did. Before she broke
out, he would give a howl, and bolt. How he knew it, was a mystery to
me; but the sure and certain knowledge of it would wake him up out of his
soundest sleep, and he would give a howl, and bolt. At such times I
wished I was him.

The worst of it was, we had a daughter born to us, and I love children
with all my heart. When she was in her furies she beat the child. This
got to be so shocking, as the child got to be four or five year old, that
I have many a time gone on with my whip over my shoulder, at the old
horse's head, sobbing and crying worse than ever little Sophy did. For
how could I prevent it? Such a thing is not to be tried with such a
temper--in a cart--without coming to a fight. It's in the natural size
and formation of a cart to bring it to a fight. And then the poor child
got worse terrified than before, as well as worse hurt generally, and her
mother made complaints to the next people we lighted on, and the word
went round, "Here's a wretch of a Cheap Jack been a beating his wife."

Little Sophy was such a brave child! She grew to be quite devoted to her
poor father, though he could do so little to help her. She had a
wonderful quantity of shining dark hair, all curling natural about her.
It is quite astonishing to me now, that I didn't go tearing mad when I
used to see her run from her mother before the cart, and her mother catch
her by this hair, and pull her down by it, and beat her.

Such a brave child I said she was! Ah! with reason.

"Don't you mind next time, father dear," she would whisper to me, with
her little face still flushed, and her bright eyes still wet; "if I don't
cry out, you may know I am not much hurt. And even if I do cry out, it