Meet the Meat Horse.

Seeing that since Stephenson first fired his “Rocket” the railway engine has been dubbed the iron horse, is it not meet that we should turn from the iron horse to the meat horse, that noble animal who used to be the friend of man, and who still keeps alight the flickering flame of hope in the hearts of optipunters and furnishes the material for the “sport of kinks?”

Of all my equine associates I remember The Lunatic best, because he was the worst. He was as ugly as a night of terror, as rangy as a half-built house, and as mad as Ophelia. Although I would rather have ridden a push-bike over Sutherland Falls than mount him, he had his uses. If there was one thing he could do it was sledging firewood. I mind one day in particular, it was windy, and wind affected The Lunatic's lack of mentality.