Mr. X., of Blank, Mississippi, was proprietor of several cotton plantations, one of which was on the hills, about twenty miles from his place of residence, where he frequently resorted for a few days at a time in the spring season. That region is very hilly, and when denuded of forest, and brought into tillage, is liable to wash into sharp and deep ravines during the rainy season. It abounds in these ravines, with precipitous sides, to such a degree, that those only who know the country well, can walk at night without peril. One of a favorite pair of Mr. X.’s carriage horses becoming blind, he was sent to this plantation, there to spend the remainder of his days in ease and in the companionship of his mate, who was accordingly sent with him. A flock of domestic geese made a part of the stock of the place, one of which suddenly conceived a strong attachment to the blind horse. The goose soon became his pilot, constantly keeping before him when at pasture, and leading him by the sound of her voice, which she modulated into tones of cheery caress, thus preserving him from the dangerous ravines that scarred the pasture in all directions.
    Such association necessarily united the two creatures in bonds of affection that was warm and interesting, as they seemed strange and unnatural. One day, while Mr. and Mrs. X. were seated at dinner, the latter observed the goose in a distant field, violently describing circles, with upraised wings and extended neck. The horse could not be seen, and a gang of negroes was instantly summoned to go to the rescue. The negroes, with their master and mistress, were soon upon the ground, where they found the blind horse lying helpless on his back at the bottom of a gorge. The negroes descended to his assistance, but the goose, apparently apprehending that their mission was one of mischief rather than of mercy, descended also, and assailed them with a violence which was only equalled by her joy when the horse was released.
    At the next plowing season, the overseer of the estate, finding that a part of the spring work was getting behind and advised Mr. X. to use the blind horse and his mate. Mr. X. reluctantly consented, and they were put into the field accordingly. The experiment that promised so well was marred by a circumstance which had not been anticipated.
    The guardian goose, insisting upon leading her blind charge, was so in the way at the end of every furrow, that it was neccessary to catch her, lest, in turning to recross, the guide, absorbed in devotion, should be trampled to death. The “nooning” came, and the ploughman reported his embarrassment to the overseer, who had the goose put in a pen until the ploughing should be finished. Only a few days after, when the horses had been led to the stable for their midday meal, the goose, by a desperate effort, escaped from her confinement, and rushed to the stable, where the horses had just been tied, but not, it would seem in the accustomed stalls. She caressed with bill and neck the fetlocks of the wrong horse, and was killed by an unlucky kick.
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