100 The Catskill Fatrtes.

and his boots filled with cold water—that is the way to cure
drunkards.’

“ Peter rose at last.

“«T could stay with you forever, dear Fairies, but I must start
on my travels.’

“ Leaving the forest, he saw three graceful horses in a mead-
ow, now prancing forward with manes and tails streaming on
the wind, now bounding high in the air to vault over the
boundary wall.

“«T should like to be a horse,’ thought Peter. Immediately
he began to prance too—his coat of the softest black color, his
limbs delicately rounded, and his hair like spun silk. A golden
bridle hung over his arched neck, and his hoofs were also shod
with shining gold. The young farmer who owned the meadow
saw the horse nibbling grass, and apparently as tame as a kit-
ten. Although so rich and owning already many steeds, he
was always envious of other people and their possessions.

“«Who has a horse so much more beautiful than any of
mine?’ he inquired, frowning angrily.

“ He advanced towards Peter, and, as no one seemed to claim
the animal, he determined to have it at all hazards. He just
touched the golden bridle, when Peter shook his head saucily,
and danced away. The farmer ran faster after the stranger
horse, bewitched by its beauty, and Peter played all kinds of
pranks. At last he stood still, and the farmer, overjoyed at
such unexpected docility, mounted, when away dashed Peter as
swift as an arrow shot from a bow, the rider clinging to his
back. Peter enjoyed the race; but when he reached the bank
of a river he determined to punish the envious farmer still fur-