Citation
Black Beauty

Material Information

Title:
Black Beauty the autobiography of a horse
Creator:
Sewell, Anna, 1820-1878
Beer, John, 1853-1906 ( Illustrator )
Jarrold and Sons ( Publisher )
Place of Publication:
London
Publisher:
Jarrold & Sons
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
xvi, 229, [3] p. : ill. ; 26 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Horses -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Animal welfare -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Cruelty -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Kindness -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Respect -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Horse grooms -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Horse-drawn vehicles -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Natural history -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Farmers -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1894 ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1894
Genre:
Publishers' advertisements ( rbgenr )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
England -- London
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

Summary:
A horse of nineteenth century England tells his life story from his early home through many masters and experiences, both good and bad.
General Note:
Publisher's advertisements follow text.
General Note:
Baldwin Library copy lacks frontispiece: "Portrait of authoress."
Statement of Responsibility:
by A. Sewell ; illustrated by John Beer.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026657149 ( ALEPH )
ALG5159 ( NOTIS )
226871156 ( OCLC )

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Full Text


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BLACK BEAUTY:

THE AUTOBIOGRAPAY OF A HORSE:



RECOMMENDED BY THE “*RoyAL SOCIETY FOR THE PREVENTION OF CRUELTY
‘ TO ANIMALS.”



BDEACK BEAUTY

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A HORSE.



LONDON : :
JARROLD AND SONS, Io AND 11, WARWICK LANE, E.C.

1894



TO

MY DEAR AND HONOURED
MOTHER,

WHOSE LIFE, NO LESS THAN HER PEN,
HAS BEEN DEVOTED TO THE WELFARE OF OTHERS,
THIS LITTLE BOOK
IS AFFECTIONATELY

DEDICATED.



“He was a perfect horseman, and never lost his temper with his horse,
talking to and reasoning with it if it shyed or bolted, as if it had beena
rational being, knowing that from the fine organization of the animal, a horse,
like a child, will get confused by panic fear, which is only increased by
punishment.”—F vom the Life of Charles Kingsley, vol. ii. p. 9.





Part i.

CHAPTER I. PAGE
My Earty Home. . . . 7 . . ° . . . I
CHAPTER II.
THE HUNT . . . . . . . 7 7 . : : 6

CHAPTER III.
My BREAKING IN. . 7 . . . . . . . . II

CHAPTER IV.
BIRTWICK PARK . . ‘ . . . . . . . - 17

CHAPTER V.
A FAIR START. . ‘ : . . . . . . . 20

CHAPTER VI.
LIBERTY. . . : . : : : . . . . + 25

CHAPTER VII.
GINGER . . : ° . : . : . . . . - 28

CHAPTER VIII.

GINGER’S STORY CONTINUED. : : . a

2
QO



x Lndex.

CHAPTER: IX.
MERRYLEGS . . 7 . : oe

‘CHAPTER. X.
A TALK IN THE ORCHARD’.

CHAPTER (XI.
PLAIN SPEAKING . : . . 2 7

CHAPTER XII.
A STormMy Day ©. . . . : -

CHAPTER XIII.
THE DEVIL’s TRADE MARK :

CHAPTER XIV.
JAMES HOWARD . : . . . .

CHAPTER XV.
THE OLD OSTLER . . : . .

CHAPTER XVI.

THE FIRE . . .

CHAPTER XVII.
JOHN MANLY’s TALK . : 2

‘CHAPTER XVIII.
GOING FOR THE DOCTOR .

CHAPTER XIX.
ONLY IGNORANCE.

CHAPTER XX,
JOE GREEN . . .

. CHAPTER XXI,
THE PARTING . .

PAGE

: 39
: 43

50

55

60
. 63
. 66
. 70
. 76
. 80
. 85
. 89



Index.

Part LL,

CHAPTER XXII.
EARLSHALL . . . . 7 . . :

CHAPTER XXIII.
A STRIKE FOR LIBERTY 2 .

CHAPTER XXIV.
Tue LADY ANNE, OR A RuNAaWwayY HORSE

CHAPTER XXV.
REUBEN SMITH . . . : A

CHAPTER XXVI.
How 1r ENDED. . . ie . .

CHAPTER XXVII.
RUINED, AND GOING DOWN-HILL_. 7 .

CHAPTER XXVIII.
A JoB HORSE AND HIS DRIVERS

CHAPTER XXIX,
COCKNEYS ° ' é : . . . .

CHAPTER XXX,
A THIEF rr er os oe

“CHAPTER XXXI.
A Humbuc . ° .

Part HUE.

CHAPTER XXXII.
A HorsE FAIR , .

CHAPTER XXXIII.
A Lonpon CAB HORSE

PAGE

98
103
107
II5
120
123

127

137

140

143

149



Xi Lndex.

CHAPTER XXXIV. PAGE
AN OLD War HORSE. . a ee - 154

i
&

CHAPTER XXXV3
JERRY BARKER «we wwe

CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE SUNDAY CAB . . . . . . . 7 . . 167

CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE GOLDEN RULE. 7 . : 7 7 . ° - - 173

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
DOLLY AND A REAL GENTLEMAN . «ee ees (177

CHAPTER XXXIX.
SEEDY SAM . . . . : . . : ° ° . - &I8f

CHAPTER XL.
Poor GINGER . 7 . : : : . ° . . . 185

CHAPTER XLI.

THE BUTCHER . . . . 7 . 7 . . . 188
CHAPTER XLII.

THE ELECTION . . . . . . . . . . + 192
CHAPTER XLIII.

A FRIEND IN NEED . . : 7 : . . ° . + 195
CHAPTER XLIV.

OLD CAPTAIN AND HIS SUCCESSOR . . . . . ° » 201

. CHAPTER XLV.
JERRY’S NEW YEAR. . . . . . 8 . » 205



JAKES AND THE LADY .

HARD TIMES

FARMER THOROUGHGOOD AND HIS GRANDSON WILLIE .

My Last HoME

Index.
Part LG.

CHAPTER XLVI.

CHAPTER XLVII.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

CHAPTER XLIX.

xill

221






LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

Portrait of Authoress

“ My early home” . :

“Well, old Pet, and how is your little Darkie? PP,
“Making straight for our meadow ” : . . . .
“ The black horse moved no more”

“My master went with me to the smith’s forge ay .
“And there I stood snorting with astonishment and fear” .

“My coat was brushed every day” : 2
“ One of those travelling carts hung all over with baskets ”,
“ Liberty ” .

“ As we stood together under the chestnut tree” . : .

“Come along, lassie, come along”

“The bearing rein. It was enough to drive one mad”
“We were often driven about in the par . : : .
“Sent up to London and sold at Tattersall’s ”

“Merrylegs” . :

“The master on Ginger, thes mistress on me”

“ A talk in the orchard” :

“Russian trotter, trained by the human voice”

“ «Sawyer, he cried . ... ‘is that pony made of flesh anil blood ?: 2?”

“¢That was a very near touch,’ said my master”

“© The bridge is broken in the middle, said John”

“James and the old man left the stable together” ae
“Goaxing, he led me out of the stable”

“*Tis the fire engine”

“ Now, John, ride for your life”

“ The air was frosty, the moon was bright”

“ Only ignorance, only ignorance !” :

“ There is a fellow flogging two horses to death’ 7 . .
“The breaking up”

“ The first of the party who went were vss jessie and Flora 7

PAGE
Frontispiece

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Fw OO DL



XVi List of Lllustrations.

“ They came to bid us good-bye” . . . .
“¢ God bless you, John,’ she said ” 7 . _ : . .
“Earlshall” . : . . : : . : : :

“ She was a perfect fhorsewonian » : : .
“My lady’s hat was gone, and her long brown. hair, was streaming
behind her”
“T uttered no sound but stood hete and listened »
“ Obliged to leave the pleasant home” .
“They were throwing out their legs and showing off their paces ”
“Into the great London thoroughfare”
“A comfortable clean-smelling stall with h plenty of dry straw ”
“A horse down” .
“We were lifted off our legs wee anid swung - through the air”
“ By the force of their charge I was driven from the spot where he fell” ”

“.. . On purpose to kill them”

“ Jerry Barker”

“ Sunday rest ” . . we . ote : . .
“Or roll over on my back” . ; . . : : . .
“ Seedy Sam” .

“The head hung out of the cart- tail oe : .

“ At last after a terrible struggle, I threw him off backs ards 7
“Six or eight men leaped their horses clean.over”
“He sponged my sides a good while so tenderly bi
“1 was sufficiently recovered to be led back to Skinner’s stables ” »
‘““When we returned, the other sisters came out to hear how I had
behaved myself” . : . . . . . . .

PAGE
95
96
98

ao8

t12
118
119
145
146
147
15t
155
159
160
166
169
176
182
186
190

197)

207
21g

227



BLACK BEAUTY.
Part £. . -

CHAPTER I.

_ MY EARLY HOME.




HE first place that I can
well remember, was a
large pleasant meadow
with a pond of clear
water init. Some shady
trees leaned over it, and
rushes and _ water-lilies
grew at the deep end.
Over the hedge on one
side we looked into a
ploughed field, and on
‘the other we looked over
ool! a gate at our master’s
thy Ne De! GRD house, which stood by the
ca \ 2 roadside; at the top of
7 the meadow was a planta-

te tion of fir trees, and at
the bottom a running brook overhung by a steep bank.

Whilst I was young I lived upon my mother’s milk, as I
could not eat grass. In the day time I ran by her side, and
at night I lay down close by her. When it was hot, we used to
B




4



BLACK BEAUTY.
Part £. . -

CHAPTER I.

_ MY EARLY HOME.




HE first place that I can
well remember, was a
large pleasant meadow
with a pond of clear
water init. Some shady
trees leaned over it, and
rushes and _ water-lilies
grew at the deep end.
Over the hedge on one
side we looked into a
ploughed field, and on
‘the other we looked over
ool! a gate at our master’s
thy Ne De! GRD house, which stood by the
ca \ 2 roadside; at the top of
7 the meadow was a planta-

te tion of fir trees, and at
the bottom a running brook overhung by a steep bank.

Whilst I was young I lived upon my mother’s milk, as I
could not eat grass. In the day time I ran by her side, and
at night I lay down close by her. When it was hot, we used to
B




4



2 Black Beauty.



“MY EARLY HOME??®

stand by the pond in the shade of ‘the trees, and when it was
cold, we had a nice warm shed near the plantation. ;

As soon as I was old enough to eat grass, my mother used
to go out to work in the day time, and came back in the even-
ing.

There were six young colts in the meadow besides me; they
were older than I was; some were nearly as large as grown-
up horses. I used to run with them, and had great fun; we
used to gallop all together round and round the field, as hard
as we couldgo. Sometimes we had rather rough play, for they
would frequently bite and kick as well as gallop.

One day, when there was a good deal of kicking, my mother
whinnied to me to come to her, and then she said,—

“‘T wish you to pay attention to what I am going to say to
you. The colts who live here are very good colts, but they are
cart-horse colts, and, of course, they have not learned
manners. You have been well bred and well born; your





“WELL, OLD PET, AND HOW IS YOUR LITTLE DARKIE?”



4 Black Beauty.

father has a great. name in these parts, and your grandfather
won the cup two years at the Newmarket races; your grand-
mother had the sweetest temper of any horse I ever knew,
and I think you have never seen me kick or bite. I hope you
will grow up gentle and good, and never learn bad ways; do
your work with a good will, lift your feet up well pen you trot,
and never bite or kick even in play.”

I have never forgotten my mother’s advice; I knew she was ©
a wise old horse, and our master thought a great deal of her.
Her name was Duchess, but he often called her Pet.

Our master was a good, kind man: He gave us good food,
good lodging, and kind words; he spoke as kindly to us as he
did to his: little children. We were all fond of him, and my
mother loved him very mtich. When she saw him at the gate,
she would neigh with joy, and trot up to him. He would pat
and stroke her and say, ‘‘ Well, old Pet, and how, is your little
Darkie?”. .I was a dull black, so he called me. Darkie; then ©
he would give me a piece of bread, which was very good, and
sometimes he brought a carrot for my mother. All the
horses would:come to him, but I think we were his favourites.
My mother always took him to the town on a market day i in a
light gig.

There was a ploughboy, Dick, who sometimes came into our
field to pluck blackberries from the hedge. When he had
eaten all he wanted, he would have, what he called, fun with
the colts, throwing stones and sticks at them to make them
gallop. We did not much mind him, for we could gallop off;
. but sometimes a stone would hit and hurt us.

One day he was at this game, and did not know that the
master was in the next field; but he was there, watching what
was going on: over the hedge he jumped in a snap, and
catching Dick by the arm, he gave him sucha box on the
ear as. made him roar with the pain and surprise. As soon
as we saw the master, we trotted up nearer to see what
went on.

“Bad boy!” he said, ‘“‘bad boy! to chase the colts. This



My Early Home. 5

is not the first time, nor the second, but it shall be the last—
there—take your. money and go home, I shall not want you
on.my farm again.” So we never saw Dick any more. Old
Daniel, the man who looked after the horses, was just as gentle
as our master, so we were well off,







CHAPTER II.

THE HUNT.




WAS two years old, when a circum-
stance happened which I have never
forgotten. It was early in the
spring; there had been a little
frost in the night, and a light mist
still hung over the plantations and
meadows. I and the. other colts
were feeding at the lower part of:
the field when we heard, quite in
nati the distance, what sounded like the
(Qe ta er cry of dogs. The oldest of the
colts raised his head, pricked his ears, and said, “ There are
the hounds!” and immediately cantered off, followed *by the
rest of us to the upper part of the field, where we could look
over the hedge and see several fields beyond. My mother and
an old riding horse of our master’s were also standing near,
and seemed to know all about it.

‘They have found a hare,” said my mother, “‘and if they
- come this way, we shall see the hunt.”

And soon the dogs were all tearing down the field of young
wheat next to ours. I never heard such a noise as they made.
They did not bark, nor howl, nor whine, but kept ona ‘‘ yo!
yo, 0, o! yo! yo, 0, o!” at the top of their voices. After
them came a number of men on horseback, some of them in
green coats, all galloping as fast as they could. The old horse
snorted and looked eagerly after them, and we young colts







‘MAKING STRAIGHT FOR OUR MEADOW.”



8 Black Beauty.

wanted to be galloping with them, but they were soon away
into the fields lower down; here it.seemed.as if they had
come to a stand; the dogs left off barking, and ran about every
way with their noses to the ground.

“* They have lost the scent,” said the old horse; ‘“ perhaps
the hare will get off.”

“What hare?” I said.

“Oh! I don’t know what hare; likely enue it may be one
of our own hares out of the plantation; any hare they can
find will do for the dogs and men to run after;” and before
long the dogs began their “‘yo! yo, 0, o!” again, and back
they came all together at full speed, making straight for our
meadow at the part where the high bank and pacene overhang
the brook.

“Now we shall see the hare,” said my. mother; and just
then a hare, wild with fright, rushed by, and made for the
plantation. On came the dogs, they burst over the bank,
leapt the stream, and came dashing across the: field, followed
by the huntsmen. Six or eight men leaped their horses
clean over, close upon the dogs. The hare tried to get
through the fence; it was too thick, and she turned sharp
round to make, for the road, but it was’ too late; the dogs
were upon, her with their wild cries; we heard ‘one shriek, and
that was the end of'her. One of the huntsmen rode up and
- whipped off the dogs, who would soon have torn her to pieces.
He held her up by the leg torn and bleeding, and all the gentle-
men seemed well pleased.

As for me, I was so astonished that I did not at first see
what was going on by the brook; but when I did look, there

was asad sight; two fine horses were down, one was strug-

gling in the stream, and the other was groaning on the grass.

One of the riders was getting out of the water covered with .

mud, the other lay quite still.
' “ Fis neck is broke,” said my mother.
“And serve him right too,” said one of the colts.
I thought the same, but my mother did not join with us.





The H: unt. 9

“Well! no,” she said; ‘‘ you must not say that; but though
I am an old horse, and have seen and heard a great deal, I
never yet could make out why men are so fond of this sport ;
they often hurt themselves, often spoil good horses, and tear
up the fields, and all for a hare or a fox, or a stag, that they
could get more easily some other way; but we are only horses,
and don’t know.”

Whilst my.
mother was say-
ing this westood
and looked on.
Many of the




“Tt BLACK HORSE MOVED NO MORE.”

riders had gone to ‘the young man; but my master, who
had been watching what was going on, was the first to raise
him. His head fell back and his arms hung down, and every-
one looked very serious. There was no noise now; even the
dogs were quiet, and seemed to know that something was
wrong. Théy carried him to our master’s house. I heard
afterwards that it was young George Gordon, the squire’s only
son,-a fine, tall young man, and the pride of his family.



10 Black Beauty.

There was now riding off in all directions to the doctor’s, to
the farrier’s, and no. doubt to Squire Gordon’s, to let him
know about his son. When Mr. Bond, the farrier, came to
look at the black horse that lay groaning on the grass, he felt
him all over, and shook his head; one of his legs was broken.
Then some one ran to our master’s house and came back with
agun; presently there was a loud bang and a dreadful shriek,
and then all was still; the black horse moved no more.

My mother seemed much troubled ; she said she had known
that horse for years, and that his name was ‘“‘ Rob Roy;” he
was a good bold horse, and there was no vice in him. She
never would go to that part of the field afterwards.

Not many days after, we heard the church bell tolling for a
long time; and looking over the gate we saw a long strange
black coach that was covered with black cloth and was drawn
by black horses; after that came another and another and
another, and all were black, while the bell kept tolling, tolling.
They were carrying young Gordon to the churchyard to bury
him. He would never ride again, What they did with Rob
Roy I never knew; but ’twas all for one little hare. ®







CHAPTER III.
MY BREAKING IN.

WAS now beginning to grow handsome ;
my coat had grown fine and soft, and
was bright black. I had one white foot,
and a pretty white star on my _ fore-
head. I was thought very handsome;
my master would not sell me till I was
four years old; he said lads ought not
to work like men, and colts ought not to work like horses till
they were quite grown up.

_ When I was four years old, Squire Gordon came to look
at me. He examined my eyes, my mouth, and my legs; he
felt them all down; and then I had to walk and trot and gallop
before him; he seemed to like me, and said, ‘“‘ When he has
been well broken in, he will do very well.””. My master said he
would break -me in himself, as he should not like me to be
frightened or hurt, and he lost no time about it, for the next
day he began.

Every one may not know what breaking ‘in is, therefore I
will describe it.. It.means to teach a horse to wear.a saddle
‘and bridle and to carry on his back a,man, woman, or child;
to go just the way they wish, and to go quietly. Besides this,
he has to learn to wear a collar, a crupper, and a breeching,
and to stand still whilst they are put on; then to havea cart
or a chaise fixed behind him, so that he cannot walk or trot
without dragging it after him: and he must go fast or slow,
just as his driver wishes. He must never start at what he
sees, nor speak to other horses, nor bite, nor kick, nor have





12 Black Beauty.

any will of his own; but always do his master’s will, even
though he may be very tired or hungry; but the worst of all
is, when his harness is once on, he may neither jump for joy
nor lie down for weariness. , So you see this breaking in isa
great thing. ~

I had of course long been used toa halter and a headstall,
and to be led about in the fields and lanes quietly, but now I
was to have a bit and bridle ; my master gave me some oats
as usual, and after a good deal of coaxing, he got the bit into
my mouth, and the bridle fixed, but it was a nasty thing!
Those who have never had a bit in their mouths cannot think
how bad it feels; a great piece of cold hard steel as thick as a
man’s finger to be pushed into one’s mouth, between one’s
teeth and over one’s tongue, with the ends coming out at the
corner of your mouth, and held fast there by straps over’ your
head, under your throat, round your nose, and. under your
chin; so that no way in the world can you get rid of the
nasty hard thing; it is very bad! yes, very bad! at least I
thought so; but I knew my mother always wore one when she
went out, and all horses did when they were grown up; and
so, what with the nice oats, and what with my master’s pats,
kind words, and gentle ways, I got to wear my bit and bridle.

Next came the saddle, but that was not half so bad; my
master put it on my back very gently, whilst old Daniel held
my head; he then made the girths fast under my body,
patting and talking to me all the time; then I had a few oats,
then a little leading about, and this he did. every day till I
began to look for the oats and the saddle. At length one
morning, my master got on my back and rode me round the
meadow on the soft grass. It certainly did feel queer; but I
must say I felt rather proud to carry my master, and as he

continued to ride me a little every day, I soon became accus- .

tomed to it.

The next unpleasant. business was putting on the iron shoes;
that too was very hard at first. My master went with me to
the smith’s forge, to see that I was not hurt or got any fright.



ave. Suan



ue

Se

rae
is

6¢ WY “MASTER WENT WITH ME TO THE SMITH’S FORGE.”



14 Black Beauty.

The blacksmith took my feet in his hand one after the other
and cut away some of the hoof. It did not pain me, so I
stood still on three legs till he had done them all. Then he
took a piece of iron'the shape of my foot, and clapped it on,
and drove some nails through the shoe quite into my hoof, so
that the shoe was firmly on. My feet felt very stiff and heavy,
but in time I got used to it.

And now having got so far, my master went on to break me
to harness ; there were more new things towear. First, a stiff
heavy collar just on my neck, and a bridle with great side-
pieces against my eyes called blinkers, and blinkers indeed
they were, for I could not see on either side, but only straight
in front of me; next there was a small saddle with a nasty stiff
strap that went right under my tail; that was the crupper. I
hated the crupper—to have my long tail doubled up and
poked through that strap was almost as bad as the bit. I
never felt more like kicking, but of course I could not kick
such a good master, and so in time I got used to everything,
and could do my work as well as my mother.

I must not forget to mention one part of my training, which
- I have always considered a very great advantage. My master
_sent me for a fortnight to a neighbouring farmer’s, who had a
meadow which was. skirted on one side by the railway. Here
were some sheep and cows, and I was turned in amongst them.

I shall never forget the first train that ran by.. I was feed-
ing quietly near the pales which. separated the meadow from
the railway, when I heard a strange sound at a distance, and
before I knew whence it came—with a rush and a clatter, and
a puffing out of smoke—a long black train of something flew
by, and was gone almost before I could draw my breath. I
turned, and galloped to the further side of the meadow as fast
as I could go, and there I stood snorting with astonishment
and fear. Inthe course of the day many other trains went by,
some more slowly ; these drew up at the station close by, and
sometimes made an awful shriek and groan before they
stopped. I thought it very dreadful, but the cows went on





- ’
‘* AND THERE I STOOD SNORTING WITH ASTONISHMENT AND FEAR.”



16" Black Beauty.

eating very quietly, and hardly raised their heads as the black *
frightful thing came puffing and grinding past.

For the first few days I could not feed in peace; but as I
found that this terrible creature never came into the field, or
did me any harm, I began to disregard it, and very soon I
cared as little about the passing of a train as the cows and
sheep did.

Since then I have seen many horses much alarmed and
restive at the sight or sound of a steam engine; but thanks to
my good master’s care, I am as fearless at railway stations as
in my own stable.

. Now if any one wants to break ina young horse well, that
is the way. *

My master often drove me in double harness with my
mother, because she was steady, and could teach me how to
go better than a strange horse. She told me the better I be-
haved, the better I should be treated, and that it was wisest
always to do’ my best to please my master; ‘ but,’’ said she,
“there are a great many kinds of men; there are good,
thoughtful men like our master, that any horse may be proud
to serve; but there are bad, cruel men, who never ought to
have a horse or dog to call their own. Beside, there are a
great many foolish men, vain, ignorant, and careless, who
never trouble themselves to think; these spoil more horses
than all, just for want of sense; they don’t mean it, but they
do it-for all that. I hope you will fall into good hands; but
a horse never knows who may buy him, or who may drive him;
it is all a chance for us, but still I say, do your best wherever
it is, and keep up your good name.”





‘ss

“My COAT WAS BRUSHED EVERY DAY.”



CHAPTER IV.

BIRTWICK PARK.’

T this time I used to
- stand in the stable, and
my coat was brushed
every day till it shone
like a rook’s wing. It
was early in May, when
there came a man from
Squire Gordon’s, who
took me away to the
Hall. My master said,
“Good bye, Darkie;
be a good horse, and
always do your best.”
I could not say ‘ good-
bye,” so I put my nose
into his hand; he patted
me kindly, and I. left
my first home. As I
lived some years with
Squire Gordon, I may

as well tell something about the place.

Squire Gordon’s Park skirted the village of Birtwick. It
was entered by a large iron gate, at which stood the first lodge,
and then you trotted along on a smooth road between clumps
of large old trees; then another lodge and another gate, which
brought you to the house and the gardens. “Beyond this lay

Cc



18 Black Beauty.

the home paddock, the old orchard and the stables. There
was accommodation for many horses and carriages; but I
need only describe the stable into which I was taken; this
was very roomy, with four good stalls; a large swinging
window opened into the yard, which made it pleasant and airy.

The first stall was a large square one, shut in behind with
a wooden gate; the others were common stalls, good stalls,
but not nearly so large; it hada low ‘rack for hay and a low
manger for corn ;.it was called a loose box, because the horse
that was put into it was not tied up, but left loose, to do as he
liked. It is a great thing to have a loose box.

Into this fine box the groom put me; it was clean, sweet,
and airy. I never was.in a better box than that, and the sides
were not so high but that I could see all that went on through
the iron rails that were at the top.

He gave me some very nice oats, he patted me, spoke kindly,
and then went away. 5 toy .

When I had eaten my corn, I looked round. In the stall
next to mine, stood a little fat grey pony, with a thick mane
and tail, a very pretty head, and a pert little nose.

I put my head up to the iron rails at the top of my box, and
said, ‘‘ How do you do? what is your name?”

He turned round as far as his halter would allow, held up his’
head, and said, ‘‘ My name is Merrylegs: I am very handsome,
I carry the young ladies on my back, and sometimes I take
our mistress out in the low chair. They think a great deal of
me, and so does James. Are you going to live next door to
me in the box?”

-I said “ Yes.”

“Well, then,” he said, “‘ I hope you are good-tempered; I
do not like any one next door who bites.”

Just then a horse’s head looked over from the stall beyond ;
the ears were laid back, and the eye looked rather.ill-tempered.
This was a tall chestnut mare, with a long handsome neck,
she looked across to me and said,—

‘* So it is you who have turned me out of my box; it isa very



Birtwick Park. 19

strange thing for a colt like you, to come and turn.a lady out of
her own home.”

“T beg your pardon,” I said, ‘I have turned no one out ;
the man who brought me put me here, and I had nothing to
do with it ; and as to my being a colt, Iam turned four years
old, and am a grown-up horse: I never had words yet with
horse or mare, and it is my wish to live at peace.”

“Well,” she said, ‘“‘ we shall see ; of course I do not want
to have words with a young thing like you.” Isaid no more.

In the afternoon when she went out, Merrylegs told me all
about it. .

“The thing is this,” said Merrylegs, ‘‘ Ginger has a-bad
habit of biting and snapping; that is why they call her Ginger,
and when she was in the loose box, she used to snap very
much. One day she bit James in the arm and made it bleed,
and so Miss. Flora and Miss Jessie, who are very fond of me,
were afraid to come into the stable. They used to bring me '
nice things to eat, an apple or a carrot, or a piece of bread,
‘but after Ginger stood in that box, they dare not come, and I
missed them very much, I-hope they will now come again, if
you do not bite or snap.”

I told him I never bit, anything but grass, hay, and corn,
and could not think what pleasure Ginger found in it.

“Well, I don’t think she does find pleasure,” says Merry-
legs; ‘fit is just a bad habit; she says no one was ever kind
to her, and why should she not bite? Of course it is a very
bad habit; but I am sure, if all she says be true, she must
have been very ill-used before she came here. John does all
he can to please her, and James does all he can, and our
master never uses a whip if a horse acts right; so I think she
might be good-tempered’ here; you see,” he said with a wise
look, ‘‘ 1am twelve years old; I knowa great deal, and I can tell
you there is not a better place for a horse all round the country
than this. John is the best groom that ever was, he has been
here fourteen years; and you never saw sucha kind boy as
James is, so that it is all Ginger’s own fault that she did not
stay in that box.” :

c 2





CHAPTER V.

A FAIR START.

HE name of the coachman was John Manly;
he had a wife and one little child, and they
lived in the coachman’s cottage, very near the
stables.

The next morning he took me into the

yard and gave me a good grooming, and just

as I was going into my box with my coat soft.
and bright, the Squire came in to look at me,

and seemed pleased. ‘‘ John,” he said, “I

meant to have tried the new horse this morning, but I have other

business. You may as well take him a round after breakfast; .

go by the common a the Highwood, and back by the

watermill and the river; that will show his paces.”

‘JT will, sir,” said John. After breakfast he came and fitted
me with a bridle. He was very particular in letting out and
taking in the straps, to fit my head comfortably; then he
brought the saddle, that was not broad enough for my back;
he. saw it in a minute and went for another, which fitted
nicely. He rode me first slowly, then a trot, then a canter,
and when we were on the common he gave me a light touch
with his whip, and we had a splendid gallop.

“Ho, ho! my boy,” he said, as he pulled me up, ‘‘ you
would like to follow the hounds, I think.”

As we.came back through the Park we met the Squire and
Mrs. Gordon walking; they stopped, and John jumped off.





A Fair Start. 21

* Well, John, how does he go?” %

‘ First-rate, sir,” answered John, “he is as fleet asa deer,
and has afine spirit, too; but the lightest touch of the rein will
guide him. Down at the end of the common we met one of
those travelling carts hung all over with baskets, rugs, and such

‘like; you know, sir, many horses will not pass those carts
quietly ; he just took a good look at it, and then went on as



‘*ONE OF THOSE TRAVELLING CARTS HUNG ALL OVER WITH BASKETS.”

quiet and pleasant as could be. They were shooting rabbits
near the Highwood, and a gun went off close by; he pulled up
a little and looked, but did not stir a step to right or left. I
just held the rein steady and did not hurry him, and it’s my
opinion he has not been frightened or ill-used while he was
young.”



22 Black Beauty.

ote s well,” ead the Squire, ‘I will try him myself to-
morrow.’

The next oa I.was ee up for my master. I remem-
bered my mother’s counsel and my good old master’s, and I
tried to do exactly what he wanted me to do. I found he
was a very good rider, and thoughtful for, his horse, too.
When he came home, the. lady was at the hall door as he
rode up.

** Well, my dear,” she said, “ how do you like him?”

“He is exactly what John said,” he replied; “a pleasanter
creature I never wish to mount. What shall we call
him?”

“Would you like Ebony?” said she, “he is as black as
ebony.”

“No, not Ebony.”

«Will you call him ‘ Blackbird,’ like your uncle’s old
horse? ”

“No, he is far handsomer than old Blackbird ever was.’

“Yes,” she said, “hei is really quite a beauty, and he has
such a sweet good-tempered face and such a fine intelligent
eye—what do you say to calling him ‘ Black Beauty’ ?”

‘Black Beauty—why, yes, I think that is a very good name.
If you like, it shall be his name,” and so it was.

When John went into the stable, he told James that master
and mistress had chosen a good sensible English name for
me, that meant something, not like Marengo, or Pegasus, or
Abdallah. They both laughed, and James said, “ If it was
not for bringing back the past, I should have named him
‘Rob Roy,’ for I never saw two horses more alike.”

“That’s no wonder,” said John, “didn’t you know that
farmer Grey’s old Duchess was the mother of them both ? ”

I had never heard that before, and so poor Rob Roy who
was killed at that hunt was my brother! I did not wonder
that my mother was so troubled. It seems that horses have
no relations; at least, they never know each other after they
are sold.



A Fair Start. 3 + 28

John seemed very proud of me; he used to make my mane
and tail’ almost as smooth as a lady’s hair, and he would talk
to me a great deal; of course I did not understand all he said,
but I learned more and more to know what he meant, and
what he wanted me to do. -I grew very fond of him, he was
so gentle and kind, he seemed to know just how a horse feels,
and when’ he cleaned me, he knew the tender places, and the
ticklish places; when he brushed my head, he went as care-
fully over my eyes as if they were his own, and never stirred up
any ill-temper:

James Howard, the stable boy, was just as gentle and plea-
sant in his. way,’so I thought myself well off. There was
another man who helped in the yard, but he had very little to
do with Ginger and me.

A. few days after this I had to go out with Ginger in the
carriage. I wondered how we should get -on together ; but
except laying her ears back when I was led up to her, she
behaved very well. She did her work honestly, and did her -
full share, and I never wish to have a better partner in
double harness. When we came toa hill, instead of slacken-
ing her pace, she would throw her weight right into the
collar, and pull away straight up. We had both the same
sort of courage at our work, and John had oftener to hold
us in than to urge us forward; he never had to use the
whip with either of us; then our paces were much the same,
and I found it very easy to keep step with her when trotting,
which made it pleasant, and master always liked it when we
kept step well, and so did John. After we had been out two
or three times together we grew quite friendly and sociable,
which made me feel very much at home.

As for Merrylegs, he and I soon became great friends; he
was such a cheerful, plucky, good-tempered little fellow, that
he was a favourite with every one, and especially. with Miss
Jessie and Flora, who used to ride him about in the orchard,
and have fine games with him and their little dog Frisky.

Our master had two other horses that stood in another



24 Black Beauty.

' stable. One was Justice, a roan cob, used for riding, or for
_ the luggage cart; the other was an old brown hunter, named
Sir Oliver ; he was past work now, but was a great favourite
with the master, who gave him the run of the park; he some-
times did a little light carting on the estate, or carried one of
the young ladies when they rode out with their father; for he
was very gentle, and could be trusted with a child as well as
Merrylegs. The cob was a strong, well-made, good-tempered
horse, and we sometimes had a little chat in the paddock, but
of course I could not be so intimate with him as with Ginger,
who stood in the same stable.







CHAPTER VI.
LIBERTY.

WAS quite. happy in my new place, and if
there was one thing that I missed, it must not

be thought I was discontented ; all who had to

do with me were good, and I had a light airy

stable and the best of food: What more could

I want? Why, liberty! For three years and

a half of my life I. had had all the liberty I

could wish for ; but now, week after week,
' month after month, and no doubt year. after

year, I must stand up in a stable night and day
except when I am wanted, and then I must be just as
steady and quiet as any old horse who has worked twenty
years. Straps here and straps there, a bit in my mouth,
and blinkers over my eyes. Now, I am not complaining,
for I know it must be so. I only mean to say. that for a
young horse full of strength and spirits, who has been
used to some large field or plain, where he can fling up his
head, and toss up his tail and gallop away at full speed, then
round and back again with a snort to his companions—I say
it is hard never to have a bit more liberty to do as you like.
Sometimes, when I have had less exercise than usual, I have
felt so full of life and spring, that when John has taken me
out to exercise, I really could not keep quiet; do what I
would, it seemed as if I must jump, or. dance, or prance, and





26 Black Beauty.

many a good shake I know I must have given him, specially at
the first; but he was always good-and patient.

“‘ Steady, steady, my boy,” he would say ; “ wait a bit, and
we'll have a good swing, and soon get the tickle out of your
feet.” Then as soon as we were out of the village, he would
give me a few miles at a spanking trot, and then bring me
back as fresh as before, only clear of the fidgets, as he called
them. Spirited horses, when not enough exercised, are often



“¢ LIBERTY.”

called skittish, when it is only play; andsome groomswill punish
them, but our John did not, he knew it was only high spirits.
Still, he had his own ways of making me understand by the
tone of his voice or the touch of the rein. If he was very
serious and quite determined, I always knew it by his) voice,
and that had more power with me than anything else, f for I was
very fond of him.

I ought to say: that sometimes we had our liberty for a few
hours; this used to be on fine Sundays: in the summer-time.



Liberty. ’ 27

The carriage never went out on Sundays, because the church
was not far off. ; :
~ It was a great treat to us to be turned out into the home
paddock or the old orchard; the grass was so cool and soft to



“AS WE STOOD TOGETHER UNDER THE CHESTNUT TREE.”

our feet, the air so sweet, and the freedom to do as we. liked
was so pleasant; to gallop, to lie down, and roll over on our
backs, or to nibble the sweet grass. Then it was a very good
time for talking, as we stood together under the shade of the
large chestnut tree.





CHAPTER VII.
GINGER.

NE day when. Ginger and I were standing
alone in the shade we had a great deal of
talk; she wanted to know, all about my
bringing up and breaking in, and I told her.

“Well,” said she, ‘if I had had your
bringing up I might have been as good a




temper as you are, but now I don’t believe I
ever shall.”

“Why not?” I said.

‘Because it has been all so different with me,”
she replied. ‘‘I never had any one, horse or man, that was
kind to me, or that I cared to please, for in the first place
I was taken from my mother as soon as I was weaned, and put
with a lot of other young colts; none of them cared for me,*
and I cared for none of them. There was no kind master like
yours to look after me, and talk to me, and bring me nice things
to eat.. The man that had the care of us never gave me a kind
word.in my life. I donot mean that he ill-used me, but he did
not care for us one bit further than to see that we had plenty
to eat and shelter in the winter. A footpath ran through our
field, and very often the great boys passing through would
fling stones to make us gallop. I was never hit, but one fine
young colt was badly cut in the face, and I should think it
would be a scar for life. We did not care for them, but of
course it made us more wild, and we settled it in our minds





**COME ALONG, LASSIE, COME ALONG.”

that boys were our enemies./ We had very good fun in the
free meadows, galloping up and down and chasing each other
round and round the field; then standing still under, the
shade of the trees. But when it came to breaking in, that
was a bad time for me; several men came to catch me, and
when at last they closed me in at one corner of the field, one
caught me by the forelock, another caught me by the nose,
and held it so tight I could hardly draw my breath; then
another took my under jaw in his hard hand and wrenched my
mouth open, and so by force they got on the halter, and the
*



30 Black Beauty,

bar into my mouth; then one dragged me along by the halter,
another flogging behind, and this was the first experience u
had of men’s kindness, it was all force; they did not give me
a chance to know what they wanted. I was high bred and
had a great deal of spirit, and was very wild, no doubt, and
gave them, I daresay, plenty of trouble, but then it was dread-
ful to be shut up in a stall day after day instead of having my
liberty, and I fretted and pined and wanted to get loose.
You know yourself, it’s bad enough when you have a kind
master and plenty of coaxing, but there was nothing of that
sort for me. ;

“‘ There was one—the old master, Mr. Ryder—who I think
could soon have brought me round, and could. have done any- —
thing with me, but he had given up all that hard part of the
trade to his son and to another experienced man, and he only
came at times to oversee. His son was a strong, tall, bold
man ; they called him Samson, and he used to boast that he
had never found a horse that could throw him. There was
no gentleness in him as there was in his father, but only
hardness, a hard voice, a hard eye, a hard hand, and I felt
from the first that what he wanted was to wear all the spirit
out of me, and just make me into a quiet, humble, obedient
piece of horse-flesh. ‘ Horse-flesh!’ Yes, that is ali that he
thought about,” and Ginger stamped her foot as if the very
thought of him made her angry. And she went on: “IfI
did not do exactly what he wanted, he would get put out, and
make me run round with that long rein in the training field till
he had tired me out. I think he drank a good deal, and I am
quite sure that the oftener he drank the worse it was for me.
One day he had worked me hard in every way he could, and
when I lay down I was tired and miserable, and angry ; it all
seemed so hard.. The next morning he came for me early,
and ran me round again for a long time. I had scarcely had
an hour’s: rest, when he came again for me with a saddle and
bridle and a new kind of bit. I could never quite tell how
it came about; he had only just mounted me on the training



Ginger. a

ground, when something I did put him out of temper, and he
chucked me hard with the rein. The new bit was very pain-
ful, and I reared up suddenly, which angered him still more,
and he began to flog me. I felt my whole spirit set against
him, and I began to kick, and plunge, and rear as I had never
done. before, and we had a regular fight: for a long time he
stuck to the saddle and punished me cruelly with his whip and
spurs, but my blood was thoroughly up, and I cared for nothing
he-could do if only I could get him off. -At last, after a terrible
struggle, I threw him off backwards. I heard him fall heavily
on the turf, and without looking behind me, I galloped off to
the other end of the field; there I turned round and saw my
persecutor slowly rising from the ground and going into the
stable. I stood under an oak trée and watched, but no one
came to catch me. The time went on, the sun was very hot,
the flies swarmed round me, and settled on my bleeding flanks
where the spurs had dug in. I felt ‘hungry, for I had not
eaten since the early morning, but there was not enough grass
in that meadow for a goose to live on. I wanted to lie down
and rest, but with the saddle strapped tightly on, there was
no comfort, and there was not a drop of water to drink. The
afternoon wore on, and the sun got low. I saw the other colts
led in, and I knew they were having a good feed.

** At last, just as the sun went down,'I saw the old master
come out with a sieve in his hand. He was a very fine old
gentleman with quite white hair, but his voice was what I should
know him by amongst a thousand. It was not high, nor yet
low, but full, and clear, and kind, and when he gave orders it
was so steady and decided, that everyone knew, both horses
and men, that he expected to be obeyed. He came quietly
along, now and then shaking the oats about that he had in the
sieve, and speaking cheerfully and gently to me, ‘ Come along,
lassie, come along, lassie; come along, come along.’ I stood
still and let him come up; he held the oats to me, and I began
to eat without fear; his voice took all my fearaway. Hestood
by, patting and stroking me whilst I was eating, and seeing



32 Black Beauty.

the clots of blood on my side he seemed very vexed ; ‘ Poor
lassie! it was a bad business, a bad business!’ then he quietly
took the rein and led me to the stable; just at the door stood
Samson. I laid my ears back and snapped at him.’ ‘Stand
back,’ said the master, ‘ and keep out of her way ; you’ve done a
bad day’s work for this filly.’ He growled out something about
a vicious brute. ‘ Hark ye,’ said the father, ‘a bad-tempered
man will never make a good-tempered horse. You’ve not
learned your trade yet, Samson.’ Then he led me into my
box, took off the saddle and bridle with his own hands, and
tied me up; then he called for a pail of warm water and a
sponge, took off his coat, and while the stableman held the
pail, he sponged my sides a good while so tenderly that I was
sure he knew how sore and bruised they were. ‘Whoa! my
pretty one,’ he said, ‘stand still, stand still.’ His very voice
did me good, and the bathing was very comfortable. The skin.
was so broken at the corners of my mouth that I could not eat
the hay, the stalks hurt me. He looked closely at it, shook his
head, and told the man to fetch a good bran mash and put
some meal into it. How good that mash was! and so soft
and healing to my mouth. He stood by all the time I was
eating, stroking me and talking to the man. ‘If a high-
mettled creature like this,’ said he, ‘can’t be broken in by fair
means, she will never be good for anything.’

“After that he often came to see me, and when my mouth
was healed, the other breaker, Job they called him, went on
training me; he was steady and thoughtful, and I soon learned
what he wanted.”







‘©THE BEARING REIN. IT WAS ENOUGH TO DRIVE ONE MAD.”

CHAPTER VIII.

GINGER’S STORY CONTINUED.

| HE next time that Ginger and I were together
in the paddock, she told me about her first
place.
“After my breaking in,” she said, “1
was bought by a dealer to match another
chestnut horse. For some weeks he drove
us together, and then we were sold to a
fashionable gentleman, and were sent up to
London. I had been driven with a bearing
rein by the dealer, and I hated it worse than anything else ; but
in this place we were reined far tighter; the coachman and
his master thinking we looked more stylish so. We were
often driven about in the Park and other fashionable places.
D





34 Black Beauty.

°

You who never had a bearing rein on, don’t know what it is,
but I can tell you it is dreadful.

*‘T like to toss my head about, and hold it as high as any
horse ; but fancy now yourself, if you tossed your head up high
and were obliged to hold it there, and that for hours together,
not able to move it at all, except with a jerk still higher, your
neck aching till you did not know how to bear it. Beside that,
to have two bits instead of one; and mine was a sharp one, it
hurt my tongue and my jaw, and the blood from my tongue
coloured the froth that kept flying from my lips, as I chafed

and fretted
. at the bits
and rein; it
. was worst
when we
had to
stand by
the hour ~
waiting for
our. mis-
tress at
some
grand par-
ty or enter-
tainment ;
and if I
fretted or
stamped
with im-
patience
the whip
was laid
on. It was
enough to
drive one
“WE WERE OFTEN DRIVEN ABOUT IN THE PARK.” mad.”







“‘SENT UP TO LONDON AND SOLD AT TATTERSALL’S.”

a)



36 Black. Beauty.

‘Did not your master take any thought for you? ” Isaid. .

“No,” said she, ‘‘ he only cared to have a stylish turn-out, as
-they call it; I think he knew very little about horses, he left
that to his coachman, who told him I was an irritable temper ;
that I had not been well broken to the bearing rein, but I
should soon get used to it ; but Ze was not the man to do it, for
when I was in the stable, miserable and angry, instead of being
soothed and quieted by kindness, I got only a surly word or
_ablow. If he had been civil, I would have tried to bear it. I
was willing to work, and ready to work hard too; but to be
tormented for nothing but their fancies angered me. What
right had they to make me suffer like that? Besides the sore-
ness in my mouth and the pain in my neck, it always made my
windpipe feel bad, and if I had stopped there long, I know it
would have spoiled my breathing ; but I grew more and more
restless and irritable, I could not help it; and I began to snap
and kick when any one came to harness me; for this the
groom beat me, and one day, as they had just buckled us into
the carriage, and were straining my head up with that rein, I
began to plunge and kick with all my might. I soon broke a
lot of harness, and kicked myself clear; so that-was an end of
that place.

* After this, I was sent to Tattersall’s to be sold; of course
I could not be warranted free from vice, so nothing was said
about that. My handsome appearance and good paces soon
brought a gentleman to bid for me, and I was bought by
another dealer; he tried me in all kinds of ways and with
different bits, and he soon found out what I could not bear. At
last he drove me quite without a bearing rein, and then sold me
as a perfectly quiet horse to a gentleman in the country; he
was a good master, and I was getting on very well, but his old
groom left him and a new one came. This man was as hard-
tempered and hard-handed as Samson; he always spoke in
a rough, impatient voice, and if I did not move in the stall
the moment he wanted me, he would hit me above the hocks
with his stable broom or the fork, whichever he might have in



Ginger’s Story Continued. 37

his hand. Everything he did was rough, and I began to hate
him ; he wanted to make me afraid of him, but I was too high-
mettled for that ; and one day when he had aggravated me more
than usual, I bit him, which of course put him in .a great rage,
and he began to hit me about the head with a riding whip.
After that, he never dared to come into my stall again, either
my heels or my teeth were ready for him, and he knew it. I
was quite quiet with my master, but of course he listened to
what the man said, and so I was sold again.

““ The same dealer heard of me, and said he thought he knew
one place where I should do well. ‘’Twas a pity,’ he said,
‘that such a fine horse should go to the bad, for want of a real —
good chance,’ and the end of it was that I came here not long
before you did; but I had then made up my mind that men
were my natural enemies, and that I must defend myself. Of
course it is very different here, but who-knows how long it will
last? I wish I could think about things as you do; put I
can’t after all I have gone through.”

“Well,” I said, “I think it would be a real shame if you
were to bite or kick John or James.”

“‘T don’t mean to,” she said, “‘ while they are good to me.
I did bite James once pretty sharp, but John said, ‘ Try her
with kindness,’ and instead of punishing me as I expected,
James came to me with his arm bound up, and brought me a
bran mash. and stroked me; and I have never snapped at him
since, and I won’t either.”

I was sorry for Ginger, but of course I knew very little then,
and I thought most likely she made the worst of it ; however,
I found that as the weeks went on, she grew much more gentle
and cheerful, and had lost the watchful, defiant look that she
used to turn on any strange person who came near her; and ~
one day James said, “‘I do believe that mare is getting fond of
me, she quite whinnied after me this morning when I had
been rubbing her forehead.”

“* Aye, aye, Jim, ’tis the Birtwick balls,” said John, “she’ll
be as good as Black Beauty by-and-by; kindness is all the



38 Black Beauty.

3

physic she wants, poor thing!” Master noticed the change
too, and one day when he got out of the carriage and came to
speak to us as he often did, he stroked her beautiful neck,
** Well, my pretty one, well, how do things go with you now? °
you are a good bit happier than when you-came to us, I
think.”

She put her nose up to him in a friendly, trustful way, while
he rubbed it gently.

‘* We shall make a cure of her, John,” he said.

“Yes, sir, she’s wonderfully improved, she’s not the same
creature that she was; it’s the Birtwick balls, sir,’ said ieee
laughing.

This was a little joke of John’s; he used to say that a
regular course of the Birtwick horse-balls would cure almost
any vicious horse; these balls, he said, were made up of
patience and gentleness, firmness and petting, one pound of
each to be mixed up with half-a-pint of common sense, and
given to the horse every day. .







CHAPTER IX.
MERRYLEGS.

R. BLOMEFIELD, the Vicar, had a large
family of boys and girls; sometimes they
used to come and play with Miss Jessie and
Flora. One of the girls was as old as Miss
Jessie ; two of the boys were older, and there
were several little ones. When they came,

there was plenty of work for Merrylegs, for nothing pleased

them so much as getting on him by turns and riding him all
about the orchard and the home paddock, and this they
would do by the hour together.

One afternoon he had been out with them a long time, and
when James brought him in and put on his halter, he said,—

“There, you rogue, mind how you behave yourself, or we
shall get into trouble.”

‘What have you been doing, Merrylegs ?” I asked.

“Oh!” said he, tossing his little head, ‘‘I have only been
giving those young people a lesson, they did not know when
they had had enough, nor when I had had enough, so I just
pitched them off backwards, that was the only thing they could
understand.”

“What?” said I, ‘ you threw the children off? I thought
you did know better than that! Did you throw Miss Jessie
or Miss Flora?”

He looked very much offended, and said,—

“Of course not, I would not do such a thing for the best
oats that ever came into the stable; why, I am as careful of
our young ladies as the master could be, and as for the little





40 Black Beauty.

ones, it is I who teach them to ride. When they seem
frightened or a little unsteady on my back, I go as smooth
and as quiet as old pussy when she is after a bird ;. and when
they are all right, I go on again faster, you see, just to use
them to it; so don’t you trouble yourself preaching to me; I
am the best friend, and the best riding master those children
have. It is not them, it is the boys; boys,” said he, shaking
his mane, “are quite different ; they must be broken in, as



** MERRYLEGS.”

we were broken in when we were colts, and just be taught
what’s what. The other children had ridden me about for
nearly two hours, and then the boys thought it was their turn,
and so it was, and I was quite agreeable. They rode me by
turns, and I galloped them about up and down the fields and
all about the orchard for a good hour. They had each cut a
great hazel stick for a riding whip, and laid it on a little too
hard; but I took it in good part, till at last I thought we had



Merrylegs. 4I

had enough, so I stopped two or three times by way of a hint.
Boys, you see, think a horse or pony is like a steam engine or
a thrashing machine, and can go on as longand as fast as they
please ; they never think that a pony can get tired, or have
any feelings; so as the one who was whipping me could not
understand, I just rose up on my hind legs and let him slip
off behind—that was all; he mounted me again, and I did the
same. Then the other-boy got up, and as soon as he began
to use his stick I laid him on the grass, and so on, till they
were able to understand, that was all. They are not bad
boys ; they don’t wish to be cruel. I like them very well;
but you see I had to give thei a lesson. When they brought
me to James and told him, I think he was very angry to see
such big sticks. He said they were only fit for drovers or
gipsies, and not for young gentlemen.”

“If I had been you,” said Ginger, “I would have given
those boys a good kick, and that would have given them a
lesson.”

“No doubt you would,” said Merrylegs, “but then I am
not quite such a fool (begging your pardon) as to anger our
master or make James ashamed of me; besides, those children
are under my charge when they are riding; I tell you they
are intrusted tome. Why, only the other day I heard our
master say to Mrs. Blomefield, ‘My dear madam, you need
not be anxious about the children, my old Merrylegs will take
as much care of them as you or I could: I assure you I would
not sell that pony for any money, he is so perfectly good-
tempered and trustworthy ;’ and do you think I am such an
ungrateful brute as to forget all the kind treatment I have
had here for five years, and all the trust they place in me,
and turn vicious because a couple of ignorant boys used me
badly? No! no! you never had a good place where they
were kind to you; and so you don’t know, and I’m sorry for
you, but I can tell you good places make good horses. I
wouldn’t vex our people for anything; I love them, I do,”
said Merrylegs, and he gave a low “ho, ho, ho,” through



42 Black Beauty.

‘his nose, as he used to do in: the morning when he heard
James’s footstep at the door.

“ Besides,” he went on, “if I took to kicking, where should
I be? Why, sold off in a jiffy, and no character, and I
might find myself slaved about under a butcher’s boy, or
worked to death at some seaside place where no one cared
for me, except to find out how fast I could go, or be flogged
along in some cart with three or four great men in it going
out for a Sunday spree, as I have often seen in the place I
lived in before I came here; no,” said he, shaking his head,
‘“‘T hope I shall never come to that.”







‘“THE MASTER ON GINGER, THE MISTRESS ON ME.”

CHAPTER X.
A TALK IN THE ORCHARD.

INGER and I were not of the regular tall
carriage horse breed, we had more of the
racing blood in us. We stood about fifteen
anda half hands high; we were therefore just
as good for riding as we were for driving, and
our master used to say that he disliked either
horse or man that could do but one thing;
and as he did not want to show off in London
Parks, he preferred a more active and useful
kind ofhorse. As for us, our greatest pleasure

was when we were saddled for a riding party; the master on

Ginger, the mistress on me, and the young ladies on Sir Oliver





44 Black Beauty.

and Merrylegs. It was so cheerful to be trotting and.cantering
all together, that it always put us in high spirits. I had the
best of it, for I always carried the mistress; her weight was
little, her voice was sweet, and her hand was so light on the
rei, that I was guided almost without feeling it.

Oh! if people knew what a comfort to horses a light hand
is, and how it keeps a good mouth anda good temper, they |

surely would not chuck, and drag, and pull at the rein as they
often do. Our mouths are so tender, that where they have not
been spoiled or hardened with bad or ignorant treatment, they
feel the slightest movement of the driver’s hand, and we know
in an instant what is required of us. My mouth had never
been spoiled, and I believe that was why the mistress preferred
me to Ginger, although her paces were certainly quite as good.
She used often to envy me, and said it was all the fault of
breaking in, and the gag bit in London, that her mouth was

not so perfect as mine; and then old Sir Oliver would say, -

“There, there! don’t vex yourself; you have the greatest
honour; a mare that can carry a tall man of our master’s
weight, with all your spring and sprightly action, does not
need to hold her head down because she does not carry
the lady; we horses must take things as they come, and
always be contented and willing so long as we are kindly
used.”

I had often wondered how it was that Sir Oliver had such a
very short tail; it really was only six or seven inches long, with
a tassel of hair hanging from it; and on one of our holidays in
the orchard I ventured to ask him by what accident it was that
he had lost his tail. “Accident!” he snorted with a fierce
look, ‘‘it was no accident! it was a cruel, shameful, cold-
blooded act! When I was young I was taken to a place
where these cruel things were done; I was tied up, and made
fast so that I could not stir, and then they came and cut oft
my long beautiful tay through the flesh and through the bone,
and took it away.”

“ How dreadful!” I exclaimed.

>



A Talk in the Orchard. 45

“Dreadful! ah! it was dreadful; but it was not only the
pain, though that was terrible and lasted a long time; it was








not only the indignity of having
my best ornament taken from
me, though that was bad; but
it was this, how could I ever
brush the flies off my sides and
my hind legs any more? You
who have tails just whisk the
flies off without thinking about
it, and you can’t tell what a
torment it is to have them
settle upon you and sting and
sting, and have nothing in the
world to lash them off with. I
tell you it is a life-long wrong,
and a life-long loss ; but, thank Heaven! they don’t do it now.”

ican an

*©A TALK IN THE ORCHARD.”



”



46 Black Beauty.

“‘ What did they do it for then?” said Ginger.

“ For fashion |” said the old horse with a stamp of his foot ;
“for fashion! if you know what that means; there was not
a well-bred young horse in my time that had not his tail

-docked in that shameful way, just as if the good God that
made us did not know what we wanted and what looked best.”

“T suppose it is fashion that makes them strap our heads
up with those horrid bits that I was tortured with in London,”
said Ginger.

“Of course it is;” said he; ‘‘to my mind, fashion is one ot
the wickedest things in the world. Now look, for instance,
at the way they serve dogs, cutting off their tails to make them
look plucky, and shearing up their pretty little ears to a point
to make them look sharp, forsooth. I had a dear friend once,
a brown terrier; ‘Skye’ they called her, she was so fond of
me, that she never would sleep out of my stall; she made her
bed under the manger, and there she had a litter of five as
pretty little puppies as need be; none were drowned, for they
were a valuable kind, and how pleased she was with them!
and when they got their eyes open and crawled about, it was
a real pretty sight ; but one day the man came and took them
all away; I thought he might be afraid I should tread upon

‘them. But it was not so; in the evening poor Skye brought
them back again, one byone in her mouth; not the happy
little things that they were, but bleeding and crying pitifully ;
they had all hada piece of their tails cut off, and the soft
flap of their pretty little ears was cut quite off. How their
mother licked them, and how troubled she was, poor thing!
I never forgot it. They healed in time, and they forgot the
pain, but the nice soft flap that of course was intended to pro-
tect the delicate part of their ears from dust and injury, was
gone for ever. Why don’t they cut their own children’s ears
into points to make them look sharp? why don’t they cut the
end off their noses to make them look plucky? one would be
just as sensible as the other. What right have they to torment
and disfigure God’s creatures ?”



A Talk in the Orchard, 47

Sir Oliver, though he was so gentle, was a fiery old fellow,
and what he said was all so new to me and so dreadful, that I
found a bitter feeling toward men rise up in my mind that I
never had before. Of course Ginger was much excited ; she
flung up her head with flashing eyes, and distended nostrils,
declaring that men were both brutes and blockheads.

‘Who talks about blockheads?” said Merrylegs, who just
came up from the old apple tree, where he had been rubbing
himself against the low branch; ‘‘ Who talks about block-
heads? I believe that is a bad word.”



‘RUSSIAN TROTTER, TRAINED BY THE HUMAN VOICE.”

‘Bad words were made for bad things,” said Ginger, and
she told him what Sir Oliver had said. ‘It is all true,” said
Merrylegs sadly, ‘‘ and I’ve seen that about the dogs over and
over again where I lived first; but we won’t talk about it here.
You know that master, and John, and James are always good
to us, and talking against men in such a place as this, doesn’t
seem fair or grateful, and you know there are good masters
and good grooms besides ours, though, of course, ours are the
best.” This wise speech of good little Merrylegs, which we
knew was quite true, cooled us all down, especially Sir Oliver,



48 Black Beauty.

who was dearly fond of his master ; and to turn the subject I
said, ‘‘ Can any one tell me the use of blinkers ? ”

“No!” said Sir Oliver, shortly, “because they are no
use.”

“They are supposed,” said Justice in his calm way, “to
prevent horses from shying and starting, and getting so fright-
ened as to cause accidents.”

“ Then what is the reason they do not put them on riding
horses; especially on ladies’ horses?” said I.

“ There is no reason at all,” said he, quietly, “‘except the
fashion: they say that a horse would be so frightened to see
the wheels of his own cart or carriage coming behind him, »
that he would be sure to run away, although of course when
he is ridden, he sees them all about him if the streets are
crowded. I admit they do sometimes come too close to be
pleasant, but we don’t run away; we are used to it, and
understand it, and if we had never blinkers put on, we should
never want them; we should see what was there, and know
what was what, and be much less frightened than by only
seeing bits of things, that we can’t understand.”

Of course there may be some nervous horses who have been
hurt or frightened when they were young, and may be
the better for them, but as I never was nervous, I can’t
judge.

“I consider,” said Sir Oliver, ‘‘ that blinkers*are dangerous
things in the night; we horses can see much better in the
dark than man can, and many an accident would never have
happened if horses might have had the full use of their eyes,
Some years ago, 1 remember, there was a hearse with two
horses returning one dark night, and just by farmer Sparrow’s
house, where the pond is close to the road, the wheels went
too near the edge, and the hearse was overturned into the
water; both the horses were drowned, and the driver hardly
escaped. Of course after this accident a stout white rail was
put up that might be easily seen, but if those horses had not
been partly blinded, they would of themselves have kept farther



A Talk in the Orchard. 49

from the edge, and no accident would have happened. When
our master’s carriage was overturned, before you came here,
it was said that if the lamp on the left side had not gone out,
John would have seen the great hole that the road-makers had
left; and so he might, but if old Colin had not had blinkers
on, he would have seen it, lamp or no lamp, for he was far'too
knowing an old horse to run into danger. As it was, he was
very much hurt, the carriage was broken, and how John
escaped nobody knew.”

“JT should say,” said Ginger, cise her nostril, “‘ that these
men, who are so wise, had better give orders, that in future,
all foals should be born with their eyes set just in the middle
of their foreheads, instead of on the side; they always think
they can improve upon nature and mend what God has
made.”

Things were getting rather sore again, when Menyieze held
up his knowing little face and said, “I'll tell you asecret; I
believe John does not approve of blinkers, I heard him talking
with master about it one day. The master: said, that ‘if
horses had been used to them, it might be dangerous in some
cases to leave them off,’ and John said he thought it would be
a good thing if all colts were broken in without blinkers, as
was the case in some foreign countries; so let us cheer up,
and have a run to the other end of the orchard; I believe the
wind has blown down some apples, and we might just as well
eat them as the slugs.”

Merrylegs could not be resisted, so we broke off our long con-
versation, and got up our spirits by munching some very sweet
apples which lay scattered on the grass. |





CHAPTER XI.
PLAIN SPEAKING.

HE longer I lived at Birtwick, the more
proud and happy I felt at having such
a place. Our master and mistress
were respected and beloved by all who
knew them ; they were good and kind

_to everybody and everything; not-
only men and women, but horses and
donkeys, dogs and cats, cattle and
birds ; there was no oppressed or ill-
used creature that had not a friend
in them, and their servants took the
same tone. If any of the village
children were known to treat any
creature cruelly, they soon heard

about it from the Hall. .
The Squire and farmer Grey had worked together, as they
said, for more than twenty -years, to get bearing reins on the
cart horses done away with, and in our parts you seldom saw
them; but sometimes if mistress met a heavily-laden horse,

-with his head strained up, she would stop the carriage and get

out, and reason with the driver in her sweet serious voice, and
try to show him how foolish and cruel it was. _ .

I don’t think any man could withstand our mistress. I wish
all ladies were like her. Our master too, used to come down
very heavy sometimes; I remember he was riding me towards





Plain Speaking. . ea]

home one morning, when we saw a powerful man driving to-
wards us in a light pony chaise, with a beautiful little bay pony,
with slender legs, and a high-bred sensitive head and face.
Just as he came to the Park gates, the little thing turned to-
wards them; the man, without word or warning, wrenched
the creature’s head round with such a force and suddenness,
that he nearly threw it on its haunches; recovering itself, it
was going on when he began to lash it furiously; the pony
plunged forward, but the strong heavy hand held the pretty
creature back with force almost enough to break its jaw,
whilst the whip still cut into him. It wasa dreadful sight
to me, for I knew what fearful pain it gave that delicate little
mouth; but master gave me the word, and we were up with
him in a second.

“* Sawyer,” he cried in a stern voice, “is that pony made of
flesh and blood?”

‘Flesh and blood and temper,” he said; ‘he’s too fond of
his own will, and that won’t suit me.” He spoke as if he was
in a strong passion; he was a builder who had often been to
the Park on business.

“And do you think,” said master sternly, ‘that treatment -
like this will make him fond of your will ? ”

‘He had no business to make that turn; his road was
straight on!” said the man roughly.

“You have often driven that pony up to my place,” said
master ; “‘ it only shows the creature’s memory and intelligence ;
how did he know that you were not going there again? but
that has little to do with it. I must say, Mr. Sawyer, that-
more unmanly, brutal treatment of a little pony, it was never
my painful iot to witness; and by giving way to such passion,
you injure your own character as much, nay more, than you.
injure your horse, and remember, we shall all have to be
judged according to our works, whether they be towards man .
or towards beast.”

Master rode me home slowly, and I could tell by his voice
how the thing had grieved him. He was just as free to speak

E 2





‘© SAWYER,’ HE CRIED... ‘IS THAT PONY MADE OF FLESH AND BLOOD??”



Plain Speaking. 53

to gentlemen of his own rank as to those below him; for
another day, when we were out, we met a Captain Langley, a
friend of our master’s; he was driving.a splendid pair of greys
in a kind of break. After a little conversation the Captain
, said,—

“What do you think of my new team, Mr. Douglas? you
' know, you are the judge of horses in these parts, and I should
like your opinion.”

The master backed me a little, so as to get a good view of
them. ‘They are an uncommonly handsome pair,” he said,
‘and if they are as good as they look, I am sure you need not
wish for anything better; but I see you get hold of that pet
scheme of yours for worrying your horses and lessening their
power.”

“What do you.mean,” said the other, ‘‘the bearing reins ?
Oh, ah! I know that’s a hobby of yours; well, the fact is, I
like to see my horses hold their heads up.”

“So do I,” said master, ‘fas well as any man, but I don’t
like to see them eld up; that takes all the shine out of it.
Now you area military man, Langley, and no doubt like to
see your regiment look well on parade, ‘Heads up,’ and all
that ; but you would not take much credit for your drill, if all
your men had their heads tied to a backboard! It might not
be much harm on parade, except to worry and fatigue them,
but how would it be in a bayonet charge against the enemy,
when they want the free use of every muscle, and all their
strength thrown forward? I would not give much for their
chance of victory, and it is just’ the same with horses; you
fret and worry their tempers, and decrease their power; you
will not let them throw their weight against their work, and
so they have to do too much with their joints and muscles,
and of course it wears them up faster. You may depend upon .
it, horses were intended to have their heads free, as free as
men’s are; and if we could act a little more according to
common sense, and a good deal less according to fashion, we
should find many things work easier; besides, you know as



54 | Black Beauty.

well as I, that if a horse makes a false step, he has much less
chance of recovering himself if his head and neck are fastened
back. And now,” said the master, laughing, “I have given
» my hobby a good trot out, can’t you make up your mind to
mount him too, Captain? your example would go a long way.”

“‘T believe you are right in theory,’ said the other, “ and
that’s rather a hard hit about the soldiers; but—well—I’ll
think about it,” and so they parted.







‘“CCTHAT WAS A VERY NEAR TOUCH,’ SAID MY MASTER.”

CHAPTER XII.
A STORMY DAY.

NE day late in the autumn, my master had a
long journey to go on business. I was put
into the dog-cart, and John went with his
master. I always liked to go in the dog-cart,
it was so light, and the high wheels ran along
so pleasantly. There had been a great deal
of rain, and now the wind was very high, and

blew the dry leaves across the road in a shower. We went
along merrily till we came to the toll-bar and the low wooden
bridge. The river banks were rather high, and the bridge,
instead of rising, went across just level, so that in the middle
if the river was full, the water would be nearly up to the
woodwork and planks; but as there were good substantial
rails on each side, people did not mind it.





56 Black Beauty.

The man at the gate said the river was rising fast, and he
feared it would be a bad night. Many of the meadows were
under water, and in one low part of the road, the water was
half way up to my knees; the bottom was good, and master
drove gently, so it was no matter.

When we got to the town, of course I had a good bait, but
as the master’s business engaged him a long time, we did not
start for home till rather late in the afternoon. The wind
was then much higher, and I heard the master say to
John, he had never been out in such a storm; and so I
thought, as we went along the skirts of a wood, where the
great branches were swaying about like twigs, and the rushing
sound was terrible.

“‘T wish we were well out of this wood,” said my master.

“Yes, sir,” said John, ‘it would be rather awkward if one
of these branches came down upon us.”

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when there was
_a groan, and a crack, and a splitting sound, and tearing,
crashing down amongst the other trees, came an oak, torn
up by the roots, and it fell right across the road just before us.
I will never say I was not frightened, for I was. I stopped
still, and I believe I trembled ; of course I did not turn round
or run away ; I was not brought up to that. John jumped out
and was in a moment at my head.

“That was a very near touch,” said my master; ‘ what’s to
be done now?”

“Well, sir, we can’t drive over that tree nor yet get round
it; there will be nothing for it, but to go back to the four
cross ways, and that will be a good six miles before we get -
round to the wooden bridge again; it will make us late, but |
the horse is fresh.”

So back we went, and round by the cross roads; but by the
time we got to the bridge, it was very nearly dark, we could
just see that the water was over the middle of it; but as that
happened sometimes when the floods were out, master did not
stop. We were going along at a good pace, but the moment



A Stormy Day. 57

my feet touched the first part of the bridge, I felt sure there
was something wrong. I dare not go forward, and I made a
dead stop. “‘Go on, Beauty,” said my master, and he gave
me a touch with the whip, but I dare not stir; he gave mea
sharp cut, I jumped, but I dare not go forward.

“‘There’s something wrong, sir,” said John, and he sprang
out of the dog-cart and came to my head and looked all about.
He tried to lead me forward. ‘‘Come on, Beauty, what’s the
matter?” Of course I could not tell him, but I knew very
well that the bridge was not safe.

Just then the man at the toll-gate on the other side ran out
of the house, tossing a torch about like one mad.

** Hoy, hoy, hoy, halloo, stop!” he cried.

‘*What’s the matter ?”’ shouted my master.

“The bridge is broken in the middle, and part of it is carried
away; if you come on you'll be into the river.”

“Thank God!” said my master. ‘You Beauty!” said
John, and took the bridle and gently turned me round to the
right-hand road by the river side. The sun had set some
time, the wind seemed to have lulled off after that furious
blast which tore up the tree. It grew darker and darker,
stiller and stiller. I trotted quietly along, the wheels hardly
making a sound on the soft road. For a good while neither
master nor John spoke, and then master began in a serious
voice. I could not understand much of what they said, but I
found they thought, if I had gone on as the master wanted
me, most likely the bridge would have given way under us,
and horse, chaise, master and man would have fallen into the
river; and as the current was flowing very strongly, and there
was no light and no help at hand, it was more than likely we
should all have been drowned. Master said, God had given
men reason, by which they could find out things for them-
selves, but he had given animals knowledge which did not
depend on reason, and which was much more prompt and
perfect in its way, and by which they had often saved the
lives of men. John had many stories to tell of dogs and





** THE BRIDGE IS BROKEN IN THE MIDDLE,’ SAID JOHN.”



A Stormy Day. 59

horses, and the wonderful things they had done; he thought
people did not value their animals half enough, nor make
friends of them as they ought to do. Iam sure he makes
friends of them if ever a man did.

At last we came to the Park gates, and found the gardener
looking out for us. He said that mistress had been in a dread-
ful way ever since dark, fearing some accident had happened,
and that she had sent James off on Justice, the roan cob,
towards the wooden bridge to make inquiry after us.

We saw a light at the hall door and at the upper windows,
and as we came up, mistress ran out, saying, ‘‘ Are you really
safe, my dear? Oh! I have been so anxious, fancying all sorts
of things. Have you had no accident ?”

“No, my dear; but if your Black Beauty had not been
wiser than we were, we should all have been carried down the
river at the wooden bridge.” I heard no more, as they went
into the house, and John took me to the stable. Oh, what a
good supper he gave me that night, a good bran mash and
some crushed beans with my oats, and such a thick bed of
straw! and I was glad of it, for I was tired.







CHAPTER XIII
THE DEVIL’S TRADE MARE.

NE day when John and I had been out on
some business of our master’s, and were
returning gently on a long straight road, at
some distance we saw a boy trying to leap
a pony over a gate; the pony would not take
the leap, and the boy cut him with the whip,
but he only turned off on one side. He
whipped him again, but the pony turned off

on the other side. Then the boy got off and gave him a

hard thrashing, and knocked him about the head; then he

got up again and tried to make him leap the gate, kicking
him all the time shamefully, but still the pony refused. When
we were nearly at the spot, the pony put down his head and
threw up his heels and sent the boy neatly over into a broad
quickset hedge, and with the rein dangling from his head he
set off home at a full gallop. John laughed out quite loud:

‘* Served him right,” he said.

“Oh! oh! oh!” cried the boy as he struggled about
amongst the thorns; “I say, come and help me out.”

“Thank ye,” said John, “I think you are quite in the
right place, and maybe a little scratching will teach you not
to leap a pony over a gate that is too high for him,” and so _
with that John rode off. ‘It may be,” said he to himself,
“that young fellow is a liar as well as a cruel one; we’ll just
go home by farmer Bushby’s, Beauty, and then if anybody
wants to know, you and I can tell ’’em, ye see”; so we turned





The Devil's Trade Mark. 61

off to the right, and soon came up to the stack yard, and
within sight of the house. The farmer was hurrying out
into the road, and his wife was standing at the gate, looking -
very frightened. —

*‘ Have you seen my boy?” said Mr. Bushby, as we came
up; ‘‘he went out an hour ago on my black pony, and the
creature is just come back without a rider.” .

‘*T should think, sir,” said John, “‘ he had better be without
a rider, unless he can be ridden properly.” '

“What do you mean ?” said the farmer.

“Well, sir, I saw your son whipping, and kicking, and
knocking that good little pony about shamefully, because he
would not leap a gate that was too high for him. The pony
behaved well, sir, and showed no vice; but at last he just threw
up his heels, and tipped the young gentleman into the thorn,
hedge; he wanted me to help him out; but I hope you will
excuse me, sir, I did not feel inclined todo so. There’s no
bones broken, sir, he’ll only get a few scratches. I love horses,
and it roiles me to see them badly used; it is a bad plan to
aggravate an animal till he uses his heels; the first time is not
always the last.” .

During this time the mother began to cry, ‘‘Oh! my poor
Bill, I must go and meet him, he must be hurt.”

‘You had better go into the house, wife,” said the farmer ;
‘‘ Bill wants a lesson about this, and I must see that he gets
it; this is not the first time nor the second that he has ill-
used that pony, and I shall stop it. I am much obliged to you,
Manly. Good evening.”

So we went, John chuckling all the way home; then he told
James about it, who laughed and said, “Serve him right. I
knew that boy at school; he took great airs on himself
because he was a farmer’s son; he used to swagger about and
bully the little boys; of course we elder ones would not have
any of that nonsense, and let him know that in the school
and the playground, farmers’ sons and labourers’ sons were all
alike. I well remember one day, just before afternoon school,



62 Black Beauty.

I found him at the large window catching flies and pulling off .
their wings. He did not see me, and I gave him a box on the
ears that laid him sprawling on the floor. Well, angry as I
was, I was almost frightened, he roared.and bellowed in such
a style. The boys rushed in from the playground, and the
master ran in from the road to see who was being murdered.
Of course I said fair and square at once what I had done, and
why ; then I showed the master the poor flies, some crushed
and some crawling about helpless, and I showed him the wings
on the window sill. Inever saw him so angry before; but as
Bill was still howling and whining, like the coward that he
was, he did not give him any more punishment of that —
kind, but set him up on a stool for the rest of the afternoon,
and said that he should not go out to play for that week.
_ Then he talked to all the boys very seriously about cruelty,
and said how hard-hearted and cowardly it was to hurt the
weak and the helpless; but what stuck in my mind was
this, he said that cruelty was the devil’s own trade mark,
and if we saw any one who took pleasure in cruelty, we
might know who he belonged to, for the devil was a murderer
from the beginning, and a tormenter to the end. On the other
hand, where we saw people who loved their neighbours, and
were kind to man and beast, we oe know that was God’s
mark, for ‘ God is Love.’ ”

“Your master never taught you a truer thing,” said John;
“ there is no religion without love, and people may talk as
much as they like about their religion, but if it does not
teach them to be good and kind to man and beast, it is all
a sham—all a sham, James, and it won’t stand when things

come to be turned inside out and put down for what they
are.”





CHAPTER XIV.
JAMES HOWARD.

NE morning, early in December, John had
just led me into my box after my daily
exercise, and was strapping my cloth on,
and James was coming in from the corn
chamber with some oats, when the master
came into the stable; he looked rather
serious, and held an open letter in his hand,
John fastened the door of my box, touched
his cap, and waited for orders.

“Good morning, John,” said the master; “I want ‘to know
if you have any complaint to cake ‘of James.”

‘Complaint, sir? No, sir.’

“Is he industrious at his work and respectful to you?”

“Yes, sir, always.”

“You never find he slights his work when your back is
turned ?”

‘* Never, sir.”

““That’s well; but I must put another question: have you
no reason to suspect when he goes out with the horses to
exercise them, or to take a message, that he stops about
talking to his acquaintances, or goes into housés where he has
no business, leaving the horses outside? ”

“No, sir, certainly not, and if anybody has been saying that
about James, I don’t believe it, and I don’t mean to believe it
unless I have it fairly proved before witnesses; it’s not for
me to say who has been trying to take away James’ character ;
but I will say this, sir, that a steadier, ‘pleasanter, honester,



\



64 Black Beauty,

smarter young fellow I never had in this stable. I can trust his
word and I can trust his work; he is gentle and clever with the
horses, and I would rather have them in charge with him,
than with half the young fellows I know of in laced hats and
liveries ; and whoever wants a character of James Howard,”
said John, with a decided jerk of his head, “let them come to
John Manly.”

The master stood all this time grave and attentive ; but as
John finished his speech, a broad smile spread over his face,
and looking kindly across at James, who, all this time had
stood still at the door, he said, “‘ James, my lad, set down the
oats and come here; I am very glad to find that John’s
opinion of your character agrees so exactly with my own.
John is a cautious man,” he said, with a droll smile, “and
it is not always easy to get his opinion about people, so I
thought if I beat the bush on this side the birds would fly
out, and I should learn what I wanted to know quickly; so
now we will come to business. I have a letter from my
brother-in-law, Sir Clifford Williams, of Clifford Hall. He
wants me to find him a trustworthy young groom, about
twenty or twenty-one, who knows his business. His old
coachman, who has lived with him thirty years, is getting
feeble, and he wants a man to work with him and get into
his ways, who would be able, when the old: man was pen-
sioned off, to step into his. place. He would have eighteen
shillings a week at first, a stable suit, a driving suit, a bed-
room over the coach-house, and a boy underhim. _ Sir Clifford
is a good master, and if you could get the place, it would bea
good start for you. I don’t want to part with you, and if
you left us, I know John would lose his right hand.”

“That I should, sir,” said John, “but I would not stand in
his light for the world.” ,

“How old are you, James?” said master.

“Nineteen next May, sir.”

“That’s young ; what do you think, John?”

“Well, sir, it is young: but he is as steady as a man, and



James Howard. 65

is strong, and well grown, and though he has not had much
experience in driving, he has a light firm hand, and a quick
eye, and he is very careful, and I am quite sure no horse of ©
his will be ruined for want of having his feet and shoes looked
after.”

“Your.word will go the furthest, John,” said the master,
“for Sir Clifford adds in a postscript, ‘If I could find a man
trained by your John, I should like him better than any
other ;’ so James, lad, think it over, talk to your mother at
dinner time, and then let me know what you wish.”

In a few days after this conversation, it was fully settled that
James should go to Clifford Hall, in a month or six weeks, as
it suited his master, and in the meantime he was to get all
the practice in driving that could be given to him. I never
knew the carriage go out so often before: when the mistress
did not go out, the master drove himself in the two-wheeled
chaise; but now, whether it was master or the young ladies, or
only an errand, Ginger and I were put into the carriage and
James drove us. At the first, John rode with him on the
_ box, telling him this and that, and after that James drove
alone. +

Then it was wonderful what a number of places the master
would go to in the city on Saturday, and what queer streets
we were driven through. He was sure to go to the railway
station just as the train was coming in, and cabs and carriages,
carts and omnibuses were all trying to get over the bridge to-
gether; that bridge wanted good horses and good drivers
when the railway bell was ringing, for it was narrow, and
there was a very sharp turn up to the station, where it would
not have been at all difficult for people to run into each
other, if they did not look sharp and keep their wits about
them,





Fury

THE OLD OSTLER.

FTER this, it was decided by my
master and mistress to pay a visit
to some friends who lived about
forty-six miles from our home,
and James was to drive them.

The first day we travelled thirty-two miles ;

there were some long heavy hills, but James

drove so carefully and thoughtfully that
we were not at all harassed. He never
forgot to put on the drag as we went
down hill, nor to take it off at*the right
place. He kept our feet on the smoothest
part of the road, and if the uphill was very

- long, he set the carriage wheels a little
across the road, so as not to run back, and gave us a breathing.

All these little things help a horse very much, particularly if

he gets kind words into the bargain.

We stopped once or twice on the road, and just as the sun
was going down, we reached the town where we were to spend
the night. We stopped at the principal hotel, which was in
the Market Place; it was avery large one; we drove under
an archway into a long yard, at the further end of which were
the stables and coach-houses. Two ostlers came to take us
out. The head ostler was a pleasant, active little man, with a
crooked leg, and a yellow striped waistcoat. I never saw a
man unbuckle harness so quickly as he did, and with a pat and






Lhe Old Ostler. 67

a good word he led me to a long stable, with six or eight stalls
in it, and two or three horses. The other man brought
Ginger; James stood by whilst we were rubbed down and
cleaned.

I never was cleaned so lightly and quickly as by that little
old man. When he had done, James stepped up and felt me
over, as if he thought I could not be thoroughly done, but he
found my coat as.clean and smooth as silk.

“Well,” he said, “‘I thought I was pretty quick, and our
John quicker still, but you do beat all I ever saw for being
quick and thorough at the same time.”

“Practice makes perfect,’ said the crooked little ostler,
‘and ’twould be a pity if it didn’t; forty years’ practice, and
not perfect! ha, ha! that would be a pity; and as to being
quick, why, bless you! that is only a matter of habit; if you
get into the habit of being quick, it is just as easy as being
slow; easier, I should say; in fact, it don’t agree with my
health to be hulking about over a job twice as long as it need
take. Bless you! I couldn’t whistle if I crawled over my work
as some folks do! You see, I have been about horses ever
since I was twelve years old, in hunting stables, and racing
stables; and being small, ye see, I was jockey for several
years; but at the Goodwood, ye see, the turf was very slippery
and my poor Larkspur got a fall, and I broke my knee, and so
of course I was of no more use there; but»I could not live
without horses, of course I couldn’t, so I took to the hotels,
and I can tell ye it is a downright pleasure to handle an
animal like this, well-bred, well-mannered, well-cared for;
bless ye! I can tell how a horse is treated. Give me the
handling of a horse for twenty minutes, and I'll tell you what
sort of a.groom he has had; look at this one, pleasant, quiet,
turns about just as you want him, holds up his feet to be
cleaned out, or anything else you please to wish; then you'll
find another, fidgety, fretty, won’t move the right way, or
starts across the stall, tosses up his head as soon as you come
near him, lays his ears, and seems afraid of you; or else

F 2



68 | Llack Beauty.

squares about at you with his heels. Poor things! I know
what sort of treatment they have had. If they are timid, it
makes them start or shy; if they are high mettled, it makes
them vicious or dangerous; their tempers are mostly made
=| when» they are
young. Bless you!
they are like chil-
dren, train ’em up
in the way they
should go, as the
good book says,
and when they are
old they will not
depart from it, if
theyhaveachance,
that is.”

“T like to hear
you talk,” said
James, “that’s the:
way we lay it down
at home, at our
master’s.”

“Who is your
master, young
man? if it be a
proper question.
I should judge he
is a good one, from
what I see.”



ES “He is Squire
“‘JAMES AND THE OLD MAN LEFT THE STABLE Gordon, of Birt-
TOGETHER.” wick Park, the

other side the’
Beacon Hills,” said James.

“Ah! so, so, I have heard tell of him; fine judge of horses,
ain’t he? the best rider in the county?” ~



The Old Ostler. 69

“T believe he is,” said James, ‘‘ but he rides very little now,
since the poor young master was killed.”
“Ah! poor-gentleman ; I read all about it in the paper at
the time ; a fine horse killed too, wasn’t there? ”
‘* Yes,” said James, ‘‘ he was a splendid creature, brother to
this one, and just like him.”
“Pity! pity!” said the old man, “’twas a bad place to leap,
if I remember; a thin fence at top, a steep bank down to the
‘stream, wasn’t it? no chance for a horse to see where he is
going. Now, I am for bold riding as much as any man, but
still there are some leaps that only a very knowing old hunts-
man has any right to take; a man’s life and a horse’s life are
worth more than a fox’s tail, at least I should say they ought
to be.”
During this time the other man had finished Ginger,. and
had brought our corn, and James and the old man left the
stable together.















‘ SEO NON]
Ie See

2, an ~~
pees SSS se

cs

CHAPTER XVI.

THE FIRE.

8 ATER on in the evening, a traveller’s horse
was brought in by the second ostler, and
whilst he was cleaning him, a young man
with a pipe in his mouth lounged into the
stable to gossip.

“I say, Towler,” said the ostler, ‘‘ just
run up the ladder into the loft and put
some hay down into this horse’s rack, will
you? only lay down your pipe.”

“ All right,” said the other, and went up through the trap
door ; and I heard him step across the floor overhead and put
down the hay. James came in to look at us the last thing,
and then the door, was locked.

I cannot say how long I had slept, nor what time in the
night it was, but I woke up feeling very uncomfortable, though
I hardly knew why. I got up, the air seemed all thick and
choking. I heard Ginger coughing, and one of the other horses
seemed very restless; it was quite dark, and I could see
nothing, but the stable seemed full of smoke and I hardly
knew how to breathe.

The trap door had been left open, and I thought that was the
place it came through. I listened and heard a soft rushing sort of
noise, and a low crackling andsnapping. I did not know what
it was, but there was something in the sound so strange, that





The Fire. ot

it made me tremble all over. The other horses were now all
awake ; some were pulling at their halters, others were stamp-
ing.

At last I heard steps outside, and the ostler who had put up
the traveller’s horse, burst into the stable with a lantern, and
began to untie the horses, and try to lead them out; but he
seemed in such a hurry, and so frightened himself that he
frightened me still more. The first horse would not go with
him ; he tried the second and third, they too would not stir.
He came to me next and tried to drag me out of the stall by
force, of course that was no use. He tried us all by turns and
then left the stable.

No doubt we were very foolish, but danger seemed to be all
round, and there was nobody we knew to trust in, and all was
strange and uncertain. The fresh air that had come in through
the open door made it easier to breathe, but the rushing sound
overhead grew louder, and as I looked upward, through the
bars of my empty rack, I saw-a red light flickering on the wall.
Then I heard a cry of “ Fire” outside, and the old ostler
quietly and quickly came in; he got one horse out, and went
to another, but the flames were playing round the trap door,
and the roaring overhead was dreadful.

The next thing I heard was James’s voice, quiet and cheery,
as it always was.

* Come, my beauties, it is time for us to be off, so wake up
and come along.” I stood nearest the door, so he came to me
first, patting me as he came in.

“Come, Beauty, on with your bridle, my boy, we’ll soon be
out of this smother.” It was on in no time; then he took the
scarf off his neck, and tied it lightly over. my eyes, and patting
and coaxing he led me out of the stable. Safe in the yard, he
slipped the scarf off my eyes, and shouted, ‘‘ Here somebody !
take this horse while I go back for the other.”

A tall broad man stepped forward and took me, and James
darted back into the stable. I set up a shrill whinny as I saw
him go. Ginger told me afterwards, that whinny was the best





“COAXING, HE LED ME OUT OF THE STABLE.”



The Fire. 73



‘rls THE FIRE. ENGINE.”

thing I could have done for her, for had'she not heard me out-
side, she would never have had courage to come out.

There was much confusion in the yard; the horses being .
got : -out of other stables, and the carriages and gigs being
pulled out of houses and sheds, lest the flames should spread
further. On the other side the yard, windows were thrown up,
and people were shouting all sorts of things; but I kept my
eye fixed: on the stable door, where the smoke poured out
thicker than ever, and I could see flashes of red light ; presently
I heard above all the stir and din a loud clear voice, which I
knew was master’s—

“‘ James Howard! James Howard! are youthere?” There
was no answer, but I heard a crash of something falling in the



74 Black Beauty.

stable, and the next moment I gave a loud joyful neigh, for. I
saw James coming through the smoke, leading Ginger with
him ; she was coughing violently and he was not able to
speak.

“My brave lad!” said master, laying his hand on ie
shoulder, ‘‘ are you hurt ? ”

James shook his head, for he could not yet speak.

‘* Aye,” said the big man who held me; “he is a brave lad,
and no mistake.”

‘** And now,” said master, ‘‘ when you have got your breath,
James, we'll get out of this place as quickly as we can,” and
we. were moving towards the entry when from the Market
Place there came a sound of galloping feet and loud rumbling
wheels.

“°Tis the fire engine! the fire engine!” shouted two or
three voices, “stand back, make way!” and clattering and
thundering over the stones, two horses dashed into the yard
with the heavy engine behind them. The firemen leaped to
the ground; there was no need to ask where the fire was—it
was torching up in a great blaze from the roof.

We got out as fast as we could into the broad quiet Market
Place; the stars were shining, and except the noise behind us,
all was still. Master led the way to a large Hotel on the
other side, and as soon as the ostler came, he said, “* James,
I must now hasten to your mistress ; I trust the horses entirely
to you, order whatever you think is needed,” and with that he
was gone. The master did not run, but I never saw mortal
man walk so fast as he did that night.

There was a dreadful sound before we got into our stalls;
the shrieks of those poor horses that were left burning to death
in the stable—it was very terrible! and made both Ginger
and me feel very bad. We, however, were taken in and well
done by.

The next morning the master came to see how we were
and to speak to James. I did not hear much, for the ostler
was rubbing me down, but I could see that James looked very



The Fire. 15

happy, and I thought the master was proud of him. Our
mistress had been so much alarmed in the night, that the
journey was put off till the afternoon, so James had the morn-
ing on hand, and went first to the inn to see about our ‘harness
and the carriage, and then to hear more about the fire.
When he came back, we heard him tell the cstler about it.
At first no one could guess how the fire had been caused, but
at last a man said he saw Dick Towler go into the stable with
a pipe in his mouth, and when he came out he had not one,
and went to the tap for another. Then the under ostler said
he had asked Dick to go up the ladder to put down some hay,
but told’ him to lay down his pipe first. Dick denied taking
the pipe with him, but no one believed him. I remembered
our John Manly’s rule, never to allow a pipe in the stable,
and thought it ought to be the rule everywhere.

- James said the roof and floor had all fallen in, and that only
the black walls were standing ; the two poor horses that could
not be got out were buried under the burnt rafters and tiles.







CHAPTER XVII.
JOHN MANLY’S TALK.

-HE rest of our journey was very easy, and a little
after sunset we reached the house of my master’s
friend. We were taken into a clean snug stable;
there was a kind coachman, who made us very
comfortable, and who seemed to think a good deal
of James when he heard about the fire.

“There is one thing quite clear, young man,”
he said, “‘your horses know who they can. trust; it is
one of the hardest things in the world to get horses out
of a stable when there is either fire or flood. I don’t know
why they won’t come out, but they won’t—not one in
twenty.” i

We stopped two or three days at this place and then
returned home. All went well on the journey; we were glad
to be in our own stable again, and John was equally glad to
see us.

Before he and James left us for the night, James said, ‘I
wonder who is coming in my place.”

** Little Joe Green at the Lodge,” said John.

“Little Joe Green! why, he’s a child!”

‘* He is fourteen and a half,” said John.

** But he is such a little chap!”

“Yes, he is small, but he is quick, and willing, and kind-
hearted too, and then he wishes very much to come, and his





John Manly’s Talk. 79

father would like it; and I know the master would like to
give him the chance. He said, if I thought he would not
do, he would look out for a bigger boy; but I said I was quite
agreeable to try him for six weeks.”

“Six weeks!” said James, “why, it will be six meains
before he can be of much use! it will make you a deal of work,
John.”

“Well,” said John with a laugh, “ work and I are very good
friends ; I never was afraid of work yet.”

“You area ey, good many said James. ‘I wish I may
ever be like you.”

**T don’t often speak of myself,” said John, ‘“ but as you are
going away from us out into the world, to shift for yourself,
I'll just tell you how I look on these things. I was just as
old as Joseph when my father and mother died of the fever,
within ten days of each other, and left me and my crippled
sister Nelly alone in the world, without a relation that we
could look to for help. I was a farmer’s boy, not earning
enough to keep myself, much less both of us, and she must
have gone to the workhouse, but for our mistress (Nelly calls
her, her angel, and she has good right to do so). She.went
and hired a room for her with old widow Mallet, and she gave
her knitting and needlework, when she was able to do it; and
when she was ill, she sent her dinners and many nice com-
fortable things, and was like a mother to her. Then the -
master, he took me into the stable under old Norman, the
coachman that was then. I had my food at the house, and
my bed in the loft, and a suit of clothes and three shillings
a week, so that I ‘could help Nelly. Then there was
Norman; he might have turned round and said, at his age
he could not be troubled with a raw boy from the plough-tail,
but he was like a father to me, and took no end of pains
with me. When the old man died some years after, I stepped
into his place, and now of course_I have top wages, and can
lay by for a rainy day or a sunny day as it may happen,
and Nelly is as happy as a bird. So you see, James, I am



78 Black Beauty.

not the man that should turn up his nose at a little boy, and
vex a good, kind master. No! no! I shall miss you very
much, James, but we shall pull through, and there’s nothing
like doing a kindness when ’tis put in your way, and I am
glad I can do it.”

“Then,” said James, “you don’t hold with that saying,
‘Everybody look after himself, and take care of number
one?’”

‘No, indeed,” said John, ‘where should I and Nelly have
been, if master and mistress and old Norman had only taken
care of number one? Why—she in the workhouse and I
hoeing turnips! Where would Black Beauty and Ginger have
been if you had only thought of number one ?—why, roasted to
death! No, Jim, no! that is a selfish, heathenish saying,
whoever uses it, and any man who thinks he has nothing to do
but take care of number one, why, it’s a pity but what he had
been drowned like a puppy or a kitten, before he got his eyes
open, that’s what I think,” said John, with a very decided jerk
of his head.

James laughed at this; but there was a thickness in his
voice when he said, ‘‘ You have been my best friend except my
mother ; I hope you won’t forget me?”

“No, lad, no!” said John. ‘“ And if ever I can do youa
good turn, I hope you won’t forget me? ”

The next day Joe came to the stables to learn all he could
before James left. He learned to sweep the stable, to bring in
the new straw and hay; he began to clean the harness, and
helped to wash the carriage. As he was quite too short to do
anything in the way of grooming Ginger and me, James taught
him upon Merrylegs, for he was to have full charge of him;
under John. He was a nice little bright fellow, and always
came whistling to his work.

Merrylegs was a good deal put out, at being “‘ mauled about,”
as he said, “by a boy who knew nothing ;” but towards the
end of the second week, he told me confidentially that he
thought the boy would turn out well.



John Manlys Talk. ae? 79

At last the day came when James had to leave us; cheerful
as he always was, he looked quite down-hearted that morning.

“You see,” he said to John, “I am leaving a great deal
behind; my mother and Betsy, and you, and a good master
and mistress, and then the horses, and my old Merrylegs. At
the new place there will not be a soul that I shall know. If it
were not that I shall get a higher place, and be able to help
my mother better, I don’t think I should have made up my
mind to it; it is a real pinch, John.”

“* Aye, James, lad, so it is, but I should not think much of
you, if you could leave your home for the first time and not
feel it; cheer up, you’ll make friends there, and if you get on
well—as I am sure you will, it will'be a fine thing for your
mother, and she will be proud enough that you have got into
such a good place as that.”

So John cheered him up, but every one.was sorry to lose
James; as for Merrylegs, he pined after him for several days,
and went quite off his appetite. So John took him out several
mornings with a leading rein, when he exercised me, and
trotting and galloping by my side, got up the little fellow’s
spirits again, and he was soon all right.

Joe’s father would often come in and give a little help, as he
understood the work, and Joe took a great deal of pains to
. learn, and John was quite encouraged about him.





CHAPTER XVIII.
GOING FOR THE DOCTOR.

NE night, a few days after James had left, I had
eaten my hay and was lying down in my straw
fast asleep, when I was suddenly awoke by the
stable bell ringing very loud. I heard the door
of John’s house open, and his feet running up
tothe Hall. He was back again in no time; he
unlocked the stable door, and came in, calling
a out, oo up, Beauty, you must go well
now, if ever you did;” and almost before I could think,
he had got the saddie.on my back and the bridle on my
head ; he just ran round for his coat, and then took me at a .
quick trot up to the Hall door. The Squire stood there with
a lamp in his hand.

“Now John,” he said “ride for your life, that is, for your
mistress’s life; there is not a moment to lose; give this note
to Doctor White; give your horse a rest at the inn, and be
back again as soon as you can.”

John said, ‘“ Yes, sir,” and was on my back in a minute.
The gardener who lived at the lodge had heard the bell ring,
and was ready with the gate open, and away we went through
the Park, and through the village, and down the hill till we
came to the toll-gate. John called very loud and thumped upon
the door: the man was soon out and flung open the gate.

“Now,” said John, “do you keep the gate open for the
doctor ; here’s the money,” and off we went again.





Going for the Doctor. 81

There was before us a long piece of level road by the °
river side; John said to me, ‘‘ Now, Beauty, do your best,”
and so I did; I wanted no whip nor spur, and for two miles
I galloped as fast as I could lay my feet to the ground; I
don’t believe that my old grandfather who won the race.at New-
market could have gone faster. When we came to the bridge,
John pulled me up a little and patted my neck. ‘‘ Well done,
Beauty! good old fellow,” he said. He would have let me go
slower, but my spirit was up, and I was off again as fast as
before. The air was frosty, the moon was bright, it was very
pleasant; we came through a village, then through a dark ©
wood, then uphill, then downhill, till after an eight miles’ run
we came to the town, through the streets and into the Market
Place. It was all quite still except the clatter of my feet on
the stones—everybody was asleep. The church clock struck
three as we drew up at Doctor White’s door. John rang the
bell twice, and then knocked at the door like thunder. A
window was thrown up, and Doctor White, in his nightcap,
put his head out and said, “‘ What do you want?”

“Mrs. Gordon is very ill, sir ; master wants you to go at once,
he thinks she will die if you cannot get there—here is a note.”

“Wait,” he said, ‘‘ I will come.”

He shut the window and was soon at the door.

“The worst of it is,” he said, ‘that my horse has been out
all day and is quite done up; my son has just been sent for,
and he has taken the other. What is to be done? Can I
have your horse ?” .

“He has come at a gallop nearly all the way, sir, and I was
to give him a rest here; but I think my master would not be *
against it if you think fit, sir.”

“ Allright,” he said, ‘‘I will soon be ready. 2

John stood by me and stroked my neck, I was very hot.
The doctor came out with his riding whip.

“You need not take that, sir,” said John, ‘‘ Black Beauty
will go till he drops; take care of him, sir, if you can; I
should not like any harm to come to him.”

G





““NOW, JOHN, RIDE FOR YOUR LIFE ~



Going for the Doctor. 83

“No! no! John,” said the Doctor, “I hope not,” and in a
minute we had left John far behind.

I will not tell about our way back; the Doctor was a
heavier man than John, and not so good a rider; however, I
did my very best. The man at the toll-gate had it open.
When we came to the hill, the Doctor drew me up. |“ Now,
my good fellow,” he said, “‘ take some breath.” I was glad
he did, for I was nearly spent, but that breathing helped me



‘©THE AIR WAS FROSTY, THE MOON WAS BRIGHT.”

on, and soon we were in the Park. Joe was at the lodge gate,
my master was at the Hall door, for he had heard us coming.
He spoke not a word; the doctor went into the house with
him, and Joe led me to the stable. I was glad to get home,
-my legs shook under me, and I could only stand and pant.
I had not a dry hair on my body, the water ran down my
legs, and I steamed all over—Joe used to say, like a pot on
the fire. Poor Joe! he was young and small, and as yet he
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BLACK BEAUTY:

THE AUTOBIOGRAPAY OF A HORSE:
RECOMMENDED BY THE “*RoyAL SOCIETY FOR THE PREVENTION OF CRUELTY
‘ TO ANIMALS.”
BDEACK BEAUTY

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A HORSE.



LONDON : :
JARROLD AND SONS, Io AND 11, WARWICK LANE, E.C.

1894
TO

MY DEAR AND HONOURED
MOTHER,

WHOSE LIFE, NO LESS THAN HER PEN,
HAS BEEN DEVOTED TO THE WELFARE OF OTHERS,
THIS LITTLE BOOK
IS AFFECTIONATELY

DEDICATED.
“He was a perfect horseman, and never lost his temper with his horse,
talking to and reasoning with it if it shyed or bolted, as if it had beena
rational being, knowing that from the fine organization of the animal, a horse,
like a child, will get confused by panic fear, which is only increased by
punishment.”—F vom the Life of Charles Kingsley, vol. ii. p. 9.


Part i.

CHAPTER I. PAGE
My Earty Home. . . . 7 . . ° . . . I
CHAPTER II.
THE HUNT . . . . . . . 7 7 . : : 6

CHAPTER III.
My BREAKING IN. . 7 . . . . . . . . II

CHAPTER IV.
BIRTWICK PARK . . ‘ . . . . . . . - 17

CHAPTER V.
A FAIR START. . ‘ : . . . . . . . 20

CHAPTER VI.
LIBERTY. . . : . : : : . . . . + 25

CHAPTER VII.
GINGER . . : ° . : . : . . . . - 28

CHAPTER VIII.

GINGER’S STORY CONTINUED. : : . a

2
QO
x Lndex.

CHAPTER: IX.
MERRYLEGS . . 7 . : oe

‘CHAPTER. X.
A TALK IN THE ORCHARD’.

CHAPTER (XI.
PLAIN SPEAKING . : . . 2 7

CHAPTER XII.
A STormMy Day ©. . . . : -

CHAPTER XIII.
THE DEVIL’s TRADE MARK :

CHAPTER XIV.
JAMES HOWARD . : . . . .

CHAPTER XV.
THE OLD OSTLER . . : . .

CHAPTER XVI.

THE FIRE . . .

CHAPTER XVII.
JOHN MANLY’s TALK . : 2

‘CHAPTER XVIII.
GOING FOR THE DOCTOR .

CHAPTER XIX.
ONLY IGNORANCE.

CHAPTER XX,
JOE GREEN . . .

. CHAPTER XXI,
THE PARTING . .

PAGE

: 39
: 43

50

55

60
. 63
. 66
. 70
. 76
. 80
. 85
. 89
Index.

Part LL,

CHAPTER XXII.
EARLSHALL . . . . 7 . . :

CHAPTER XXIII.
A STRIKE FOR LIBERTY 2 .

CHAPTER XXIV.
Tue LADY ANNE, OR A RuNAaWwayY HORSE

CHAPTER XXV.
REUBEN SMITH . . . : A

CHAPTER XXVI.
How 1r ENDED. . . ie . .

CHAPTER XXVII.
RUINED, AND GOING DOWN-HILL_. 7 .

CHAPTER XXVIII.
A JoB HORSE AND HIS DRIVERS

CHAPTER XXIX,
COCKNEYS ° ' é : . . . .

CHAPTER XXX,
A THIEF rr er os oe

“CHAPTER XXXI.
A Humbuc . ° .

Part HUE.

CHAPTER XXXII.
A HorsE FAIR , .

CHAPTER XXXIII.
A Lonpon CAB HORSE

PAGE

98
103
107
II5
120
123

127

137

140

143

149
Xi Lndex.

CHAPTER XXXIV. PAGE
AN OLD War HORSE. . a ee - 154

i
&

CHAPTER XXXV3
JERRY BARKER «we wwe

CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE SUNDAY CAB . . . . . . . 7 . . 167

CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE GOLDEN RULE. 7 . : 7 7 . ° - - 173

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
DOLLY AND A REAL GENTLEMAN . «ee ees (177

CHAPTER XXXIX.
SEEDY SAM . . . . : . . : ° ° . - &I8f

CHAPTER XL.
Poor GINGER . 7 . : : : . ° . . . 185

CHAPTER XLI.

THE BUTCHER . . . . 7 . 7 . . . 188
CHAPTER XLII.

THE ELECTION . . . . . . . . . . + 192
CHAPTER XLIII.

A FRIEND IN NEED . . : 7 : . . ° . + 195
CHAPTER XLIV.

OLD CAPTAIN AND HIS SUCCESSOR . . . . . ° » 201

. CHAPTER XLV.
JERRY’S NEW YEAR. . . . . . 8 . » 205
JAKES AND THE LADY .

HARD TIMES

FARMER THOROUGHGOOD AND HIS GRANDSON WILLIE .

My Last HoME

Index.
Part LG.

CHAPTER XLVI.

CHAPTER XLVII.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

CHAPTER XLIX.

xill

221
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

Portrait of Authoress

“ My early home” . :

“Well, old Pet, and how is your little Darkie? PP,
“Making straight for our meadow ” : . . . .
“ The black horse moved no more”

“My master went with me to the smith’s forge ay .
“And there I stood snorting with astonishment and fear” .

“My coat was brushed every day” : 2
“ One of those travelling carts hung all over with baskets ”,
“ Liberty ” .

“ As we stood together under the chestnut tree” . : .

“Come along, lassie, come along”

“The bearing rein. It was enough to drive one mad”
“We were often driven about in the par . : : .
“Sent up to London and sold at Tattersall’s ”

“Merrylegs” . :

“The master on Ginger, thes mistress on me”

“ A talk in the orchard” :

“Russian trotter, trained by the human voice”

“ «Sawyer, he cried . ... ‘is that pony made of flesh anil blood ?: 2?”

“¢That was a very near touch,’ said my master”

“© The bridge is broken in the middle, said John”

“James and the old man left the stable together” ae
“Goaxing, he led me out of the stable”

“*Tis the fire engine”

“ Now, John, ride for your life”

“ The air was frosty, the moon was bright”

“ Only ignorance, only ignorance !” :

“ There is a fellow flogging two horses to death’ 7 . .
“The breaking up”

“ The first of the party who went were vss jessie and Flora 7

PAGE
Frontispiece

° 8 .
NN QUuUUU AR EP HE
WwW RM Mu WNT Ui Oo

oO
ny

oe
ono nm
Fw OO DL
XVi List of Lllustrations.

“ They came to bid us good-bye” . . . .
“¢ God bless you, John,’ she said ” 7 . _ : . .
“Earlshall” . : . . : : . : : :

“ She was a perfect fhorsewonian » : : .
“My lady’s hat was gone, and her long brown. hair, was streaming
behind her”
“T uttered no sound but stood hete and listened »
“ Obliged to leave the pleasant home” .
“They were throwing out their legs and showing off their paces ”
“Into the great London thoroughfare”
“A comfortable clean-smelling stall with h plenty of dry straw ”
“A horse down” .
“We were lifted off our legs wee anid swung - through the air”
“ By the force of their charge I was driven from the spot where he fell” ”

“.. . On purpose to kill them”

“ Jerry Barker”

“ Sunday rest ” . . we . ote : . .
“Or roll over on my back” . ; . . : : . .
“ Seedy Sam” .

“The head hung out of the cart- tail oe : .

“ At last after a terrible struggle, I threw him off backs ards 7
“Six or eight men leaped their horses clean.over”
“He sponged my sides a good while so tenderly bi
“1 was sufficiently recovered to be led back to Skinner’s stables ” »
‘““When we returned, the other sisters came out to hear how I had
behaved myself” . : . . . . . . .

PAGE
95
96
98

ao8

t12
118
119
145
146
147
15t
155
159
160
166
169
176
182
186
190

197)

207
21g

227
BLACK BEAUTY.
Part £. . -

CHAPTER I.

_ MY EARLY HOME.




HE first place that I can
well remember, was a
large pleasant meadow
with a pond of clear
water init. Some shady
trees leaned over it, and
rushes and _ water-lilies
grew at the deep end.
Over the hedge on one
side we looked into a
ploughed field, and on
‘the other we looked over
ool! a gate at our master’s
thy Ne De! GRD house, which stood by the
ca \ 2 roadside; at the top of
7 the meadow was a planta-

te tion of fir trees, and at
the bottom a running brook overhung by a steep bank.

Whilst I was young I lived upon my mother’s milk, as I
could not eat grass. In the day time I ran by her side, and
at night I lay down close by her. When it was hot, we used to
B




4
2 Black Beauty.



“MY EARLY HOME??®

stand by the pond in the shade of ‘the trees, and when it was
cold, we had a nice warm shed near the plantation. ;

As soon as I was old enough to eat grass, my mother used
to go out to work in the day time, and came back in the even-
ing.

There were six young colts in the meadow besides me; they
were older than I was; some were nearly as large as grown-
up horses. I used to run with them, and had great fun; we
used to gallop all together round and round the field, as hard
as we couldgo. Sometimes we had rather rough play, for they
would frequently bite and kick as well as gallop.

One day, when there was a good deal of kicking, my mother
whinnied to me to come to her, and then she said,—

“‘T wish you to pay attention to what I am going to say to
you. The colts who live here are very good colts, but they are
cart-horse colts, and, of course, they have not learned
manners. You have been well bred and well born; your


“WELL, OLD PET, AND HOW IS YOUR LITTLE DARKIE?”
4 Black Beauty.

father has a great. name in these parts, and your grandfather
won the cup two years at the Newmarket races; your grand-
mother had the sweetest temper of any horse I ever knew,
and I think you have never seen me kick or bite. I hope you
will grow up gentle and good, and never learn bad ways; do
your work with a good will, lift your feet up well pen you trot,
and never bite or kick even in play.”

I have never forgotten my mother’s advice; I knew she was ©
a wise old horse, and our master thought a great deal of her.
Her name was Duchess, but he often called her Pet.

Our master was a good, kind man: He gave us good food,
good lodging, and kind words; he spoke as kindly to us as he
did to his: little children. We were all fond of him, and my
mother loved him very mtich. When she saw him at the gate,
she would neigh with joy, and trot up to him. He would pat
and stroke her and say, ‘‘ Well, old Pet, and how, is your little
Darkie?”. .I was a dull black, so he called me. Darkie; then ©
he would give me a piece of bread, which was very good, and
sometimes he brought a carrot for my mother. All the
horses would:come to him, but I think we were his favourites.
My mother always took him to the town on a market day i in a
light gig.

There was a ploughboy, Dick, who sometimes came into our
field to pluck blackberries from the hedge. When he had
eaten all he wanted, he would have, what he called, fun with
the colts, throwing stones and sticks at them to make them
gallop. We did not much mind him, for we could gallop off;
. but sometimes a stone would hit and hurt us.

One day he was at this game, and did not know that the
master was in the next field; but he was there, watching what
was going on: over the hedge he jumped in a snap, and
catching Dick by the arm, he gave him sucha box on the
ear as. made him roar with the pain and surprise. As soon
as we saw the master, we trotted up nearer to see what
went on.

“Bad boy!” he said, ‘“‘bad boy! to chase the colts. This
My Early Home. 5

is not the first time, nor the second, but it shall be the last—
there—take your. money and go home, I shall not want you
on.my farm again.” So we never saw Dick any more. Old
Daniel, the man who looked after the horses, was just as gentle
as our master, so we were well off,




CHAPTER II.

THE HUNT.




WAS two years old, when a circum-
stance happened which I have never
forgotten. It was early in the
spring; there had been a little
frost in the night, and a light mist
still hung over the plantations and
meadows. I and the. other colts
were feeding at the lower part of:
the field when we heard, quite in
nati the distance, what sounded like the
(Qe ta er cry of dogs. The oldest of the
colts raised his head, pricked his ears, and said, “ There are
the hounds!” and immediately cantered off, followed *by the
rest of us to the upper part of the field, where we could look
over the hedge and see several fields beyond. My mother and
an old riding horse of our master’s were also standing near,
and seemed to know all about it.

‘They have found a hare,” said my mother, “‘and if they
- come this way, we shall see the hunt.”

And soon the dogs were all tearing down the field of young
wheat next to ours. I never heard such a noise as they made.
They did not bark, nor howl, nor whine, but kept ona ‘‘ yo!
yo, 0, o! yo! yo, 0, o!” at the top of their voices. After
them came a number of men on horseback, some of them in
green coats, all galloping as fast as they could. The old horse
snorted and looked eagerly after them, and we young colts




‘MAKING STRAIGHT FOR OUR MEADOW.”
8 Black Beauty.

wanted to be galloping with them, but they were soon away
into the fields lower down; here it.seemed.as if they had
come to a stand; the dogs left off barking, and ran about every
way with their noses to the ground.

“* They have lost the scent,” said the old horse; ‘“ perhaps
the hare will get off.”

“What hare?” I said.

“Oh! I don’t know what hare; likely enue it may be one
of our own hares out of the plantation; any hare they can
find will do for the dogs and men to run after;” and before
long the dogs began their “‘yo! yo, 0, o!” again, and back
they came all together at full speed, making straight for our
meadow at the part where the high bank and pacene overhang
the brook.

“Now we shall see the hare,” said my. mother; and just
then a hare, wild with fright, rushed by, and made for the
plantation. On came the dogs, they burst over the bank,
leapt the stream, and came dashing across the: field, followed
by the huntsmen. Six or eight men leaped their horses
clean over, close upon the dogs. The hare tried to get
through the fence; it was too thick, and she turned sharp
round to make, for the road, but it was’ too late; the dogs
were upon, her with their wild cries; we heard ‘one shriek, and
that was the end of'her. One of the huntsmen rode up and
- whipped off the dogs, who would soon have torn her to pieces.
He held her up by the leg torn and bleeding, and all the gentle-
men seemed well pleased.

As for me, I was so astonished that I did not at first see
what was going on by the brook; but when I did look, there

was asad sight; two fine horses were down, one was strug-

gling in the stream, and the other was groaning on the grass.

One of the riders was getting out of the water covered with .

mud, the other lay quite still.
' “ Fis neck is broke,” said my mother.
“And serve him right too,” said one of the colts.
I thought the same, but my mother did not join with us.


The H: unt. 9

“Well! no,” she said; ‘‘ you must not say that; but though
I am an old horse, and have seen and heard a great deal, I
never yet could make out why men are so fond of this sport ;
they often hurt themselves, often spoil good horses, and tear
up the fields, and all for a hare or a fox, or a stag, that they
could get more easily some other way; but we are only horses,
and don’t know.”

Whilst my.
mother was say-
ing this westood
and looked on.
Many of the




“Tt BLACK HORSE MOVED NO MORE.”

riders had gone to ‘the young man; but my master, who
had been watching what was going on, was the first to raise
him. His head fell back and his arms hung down, and every-
one looked very serious. There was no noise now; even the
dogs were quiet, and seemed to know that something was
wrong. Théy carried him to our master’s house. I heard
afterwards that it was young George Gordon, the squire’s only
son,-a fine, tall young man, and the pride of his family.
10 Black Beauty.

There was now riding off in all directions to the doctor’s, to
the farrier’s, and no. doubt to Squire Gordon’s, to let him
know about his son. When Mr. Bond, the farrier, came to
look at the black horse that lay groaning on the grass, he felt
him all over, and shook his head; one of his legs was broken.
Then some one ran to our master’s house and came back with
agun; presently there was a loud bang and a dreadful shriek,
and then all was still; the black horse moved no more.

My mother seemed much troubled ; she said she had known
that horse for years, and that his name was ‘“‘ Rob Roy;” he
was a good bold horse, and there was no vice in him. She
never would go to that part of the field afterwards.

Not many days after, we heard the church bell tolling for a
long time; and looking over the gate we saw a long strange
black coach that was covered with black cloth and was drawn
by black horses; after that came another and another and
another, and all were black, while the bell kept tolling, tolling.
They were carrying young Gordon to the churchyard to bury
him. He would never ride again, What they did with Rob
Roy I never knew; but ’twas all for one little hare. ®




CHAPTER III.
MY BREAKING IN.

WAS now beginning to grow handsome ;
my coat had grown fine and soft, and
was bright black. I had one white foot,
and a pretty white star on my _ fore-
head. I was thought very handsome;
my master would not sell me till I was
four years old; he said lads ought not
to work like men, and colts ought not to work like horses till
they were quite grown up.

_ When I was four years old, Squire Gordon came to look
at me. He examined my eyes, my mouth, and my legs; he
felt them all down; and then I had to walk and trot and gallop
before him; he seemed to like me, and said, ‘“‘ When he has
been well broken in, he will do very well.””. My master said he
would break -me in himself, as he should not like me to be
frightened or hurt, and he lost no time about it, for the next
day he began.

Every one may not know what breaking ‘in is, therefore I
will describe it.. It.means to teach a horse to wear.a saddle
‘and bridle and to carry on his back a,man, woman, or child;
to go just the way they wish, and to go quietly. Besides this,
he has to learn to wear a collar, a crupper, and a breeching,
and to stand still whilst they are put on; then to havea cart
or a chaise fixed behind him, so that he cannot walk or trot
without dragging it after him: and he must go fast or slow,
just as his driver wishes. He must never start at what he
sees, nor speak to other horses, nor bite, nor kick, nor have


12 Black Beauty.

any will of his own; but always do his master’s will, even
though he may be very tired or hungry; but the worst of all
is, when his harness is once on, he may neither jump for joy
nor lie down for weariness. , So you see this breaking in isa
great thing. ~

I had of course long been used toa halter and a headstall,
and to be led about in the fields and lanes quietly, but now I
was to have a bit and bridle ; my master gave me some oats
as usual, and after a good deal of coaxing, he got the bit into
my mouth, and the bridle fixed, but it was a nasty thing!
Those who have never had a bit in their mouths cannot think
how bad it feels; a great piece of cold hard steel as thick as a
man’s finger to be pushed into one’s mouth, between one’s
teeth and over one’s tongue, with the ends coming out at the
corner of your mouth, and held fast there by straps over’ your
head, under your throat, round your nose, and. under your
chin; so that no way in the world can you get rid of the
nasty hard thing; it is very bad! yes, very bad! at least I
thought so; but I knew my mother always wore one when she
went out, and all horses did when they were grown up; and
so, what with the nice oats, and what with my master’s pats,
kind words, and gentle ways, I got to wear my bit and bridle.

Next came the saddle, but that was not half so bad; my
master put it on my back very gently, whilst old Daniel held
my head; he then made the girths fast under my body,
patting and talking to me all the time; then I had a few oats,
then a little leading about, and this he did. every day till I
began to look for the oats and the saddle. At length one
morning, my master got on my back and rode me round the
meadow on the soft grass. It certainly did feel queer; but I
must say I felt rather proud to carry my master, and as he

continued to ride me a little every day, I soon became accus- .

tomed to it.

The next unpleasant. business was putting on the iron shoes;
that too was very hard at first. My master went with me to
the smith’s forge, to see that I was not hurt or got any fright.
ave. Suan



ue

Se

rae
is

6¢ WY “MASTER WENT WITH ME TO THE SMITH’S FORGE.”
14 Black Beauty.

The blacksmith took my feet in his hand one after the other
and cut away some of the hoof. It did not pain me, so I
stood still on three legs till he had done them all. Then he
took a piece of iron'the shape of my foot, and clapped it on,
and drove some nails through the shoe quite into my hoof, so
that the shoe was firmly on. My feet felt very stiff and heavy,
but in time I got used to it.

And now having got so far, my master went on to break me
to harness ; there were more new things towear. First, a stiff
heavy collar just on my neck, and a bridle with great side-
pieces against my eyes called blinkers, and blinkers indeed
they were, for I could not see on either side, but only straight
in front of me; next there was a small saddle with a nasty stiff
strap that went right under my tail; that was the crupper. I
hated the crupper—to have my long tail doubled up and
poked through that strap was almost as bad as the bit. I
never felt more like kicking, but of course I could not kick
such a good master, and so in time I got used to everything,
and could do my work as well as my mother.

I must not forget to mention one part of my training, which
- I have always considered a very great advantage. My master
_sent me for a fortnight to a neighbouring farmer’s, who had a
meadow which was. skirted on one side by the railway. Here
were some sheep and cows, and I was turned in amongst them.

I shall never forget the first train that ran by.. I was feed-
ing quietly near the pales which. separated the meadow from
the railway, when I heard a strange sound at a distance, and
before I knew whence it came—with a rush and a clatter, and
a puffing out of smoke—a long black train of something flew
by, and was gone almost before I could draw my breath. I
turned, and galloped to the further side of the meadow as fast
as I could go, and there I stood snorting with astonishment
and fear. Inthe course of the day many other trains went by,
some more slowly ; these drew up at the station close by, and
sometimes made an awful shriek and groan before they
stopped. I thought it very dreadful, but the cows went on


- ’
‘* AND THERE I STOOD SNORTING WITH ASTONISHMENT AND FEAR.”
16" Black Beauty.

eating very quietly, and hardly raised their heads as the black *
frightful thing came puffing and grinding past.

For the first few days I could not feed in peace; but as I
found that this terrible creature never came into the field, or
did me any harm, I began to disregard it, and very soon I
cared as little about the passing of a train as the cows and
sheep did.

Since then I have seen many horses much alarmed and
restive at the sight or sound of a steam engine; but thanks to
my good master’s care, I am as fearless at railway stations as
in my own stable.

. Now if any one wants to break ina young horse well, that
is the way. *

My master often drove me in double harness with my
mother, because she was steady, and could teach me how to
go better than a strange horse. She told me the better I be-
haved, the better I should be treated, and that it was wisest
always to do’ my best to please my master; ‘ but,’’ said she,
“there are a great many kinds of men; there are good,
thoughtful men like our master, that any horse may be proud
to serve; but there are bad, cruel men, who never ought to
have a horse or dog to call their own. Beside, there are a
great many foolish men, vain, ignorant, and careless, who
never trouble themselves to think; these spoil more horses
than all, just for want of sense; they don’t mean it, but they
do it-for all that. I hope you will fall into good hands; but
a horse never knows who may buy him, or who may drive him;
it is all a chance for us, but still I say, do your best wherever
it is, and keep up your good name.”


‘ss

“My COAT WAS BRUSHED EVERY DAY.”



CHAPTER IV.

BIRTWICK PARK.’

T this time I used to
- stand in the stable, and
my coat was brushed
every day till it shone
like a rook’s wing. It
was early in May, when
there came a man from
Squire Gordon’s, who
took me away to the
Hall. My master said,
“Good bye, Darkie;
be a good horse, and
always do your best.”
I could not say ‘ good-
bye,” so I put my nose
into his hand; he patted
me kindly, and I. left
my first home. As I
lived some years with
Squire Gordon, I may

as well tell something about the place.

Squire Gordon’s Park skirted the village of Birtwick. It
was entered by a large iron gate, at which stood the first lodge,
and then you trotted along on a smooth road between clumps
of large old trees; then another lodge and another gate, which
brought you to the house and the gardens. “Beyond this lay

Cc
18 Black Beauty.

the home paddock, the old orchard and the stables. There
was accommodation for many horses and carriages; but I
need only describe the stable into which I was taken; this
was very roomy, with four good stalls; a large swinging
window opened into the yard, which made it pleasant and airy.

The first stall was a large square one, shut in behind with
a wooden gate; the others were common stalls, good stalls,
but not nearly so large; it hada low ‘rack for hay and a low
manger for corn ;.it was called a loose box, because the horse
that was put into it was not tied up, but left loose, to do as he
liked. It is a great thing to have a loose box.

Into this fine box the groom put me; it was clean, sweet,
and airy. I never was.in a better box than that, and the sides
were not so high but that I could see all that went on through
the iron rails that were at the top.

He gave me some very nice oats, he patted me, spoke kindly,
and then went away. 5 toy .

When I had eaten my corn, I looked round. In the stall
next to mine, stood a little fat grey pony, with a thick mane
and tail, a very pretty head, and a pert little nose.

I put my head up to the iron rails at the top of my box, and
said, ‘‘ How do you do? what is your name?”

He turned round as far as his halter would allow, held up his’
head, and said, ‘‘ My name is Merrylegs: I am very handsome,
I carry the young ladies on my back, and sometimes I take
our mistress out in the low chair. They think a great deal of
me, and so does James. Are you going to live next door to
me in the box?”

-I said “ Yes.”

“Well, then,” he said, “‘ I hope you are good-tempered; I
do not like any one next door who bites.”

Just then a horse’s head looked over from the stall beyond ;
the ears were laid back, and the eye looked rather.ill-tempered.
This was a tall chestnut mare, with a long handsome neck,
she looked across to me and said,—

‘* So it is you who have turned me out of my box; it isa very
Birtwick Park. 19

strange thing for a colt like you, to come and turn.a lady out of
her own home.”

“T beg your pardon,” I said, ‘I have turned no one out ;
the man who brought me put me here, and I had nothing to
do with it ; and as to my being a colt, Iam turned four years
old, and am a grown-up horse: I never had words yet with
horse or mare, and it is my wish to live at peace.”

“Well,” she said, ‘“‘ we shall see ; of course I do not want
to have words with a young thing like you.” Isaid no more.

In the afternoon when she went out, Merrylegs told me all
about it. .

“The thing is this,” said Merrylegs, ‘‘ Ginger has a-bad
habit of biting and snapping; that is why they call her Ginger,
and when she was in the loose box, she used to snap very
much. One day she bit James in the arm and made it bleed,
and so Miss. Flora and Miss Jessie, who are very fond of me,
were afraid to come into the stable. They used to bring me '
nice things to eat, an apple or a carrot, or a piece of bread,
‘but after Ginger stood in that box, they dare not come, and I
missed them very much, I-hope they will now come again, if
you do not bite or snap.”

I told him I never bit, anything but grass, hay, and corn,
and could not think what pleasure Ginger found in it.

“Well, I don’t think she does find pleasure,” says Merry-
legs; ‘fit is just a bad habit; she says no one was ever kind
to her, and why should she not bite? Of course it is a very
bad habit; but I am sure, if all she says be true, she must
have been very ill-used before she came here. John does all
he can to please her, and James does all he can, and our
master never uses a whip if a horse acts right; so I think she
might be good-tempered’ here; you see,” he said with a wise
look, ‘‘ 1am twelve years old; I knowa great deal, and I can tell
you there is not a better place for a horse all round the country
than this. John is the best groom that ever was, he has been
here fourteen years; and you never saw sucha kind boy as
James is, so that it is all Ginger’s own fault that she did not
stay in that box.” :

c 2


CHAPTER V.

A FAIR START.

HE name of the coachman was John Manly;
he had a wife and one little child, and they
lived in the coachman’s cottage, very near the
stables.

The next morning he took me into the

yard and gave me a good grooming, and just

as I was going into my box with my coat soft.
and bright, the Squire came in to look at me,

and seemed pleased. ‘‘ John,” he said, “I

meant to have tried the new horse this morning, but I have other

business. You may as well take him a round after breakfast; .

go by the common a the Highwood, and back by the

watermill and the river; that will show his paces.”

‘JT will, sir,” said John. After breakfast he came and fitted
me with a bridle. He was very particular in letting out and
taking in the straps, to fit my head comfortably; then he
brought the saddle, that was not broad enough for my back;
he. saw it in a minute and went for another, which fitted
nicely. He rode me first slowly, then a trot, then a canter,
and when we were on the common he gave me a light touch
with his whip, and we had a splendid gallop.

“Ho, ho! my boy,” he said, as he pulled me up, ‘‘ you
would like to follow the hounds, I think.”

As we.came back through the Park we met the Squire and
Mrs. Gordon walking; they stopped, and John jumped off.


A Fair Start. 21

* Well, John, how does he go?” %

‘ First-rate, sir,” answered John, “he is as fleet asa deer,
and has afine spirit, too; but the lightest touch of the rein will
guide him. Down at the end of the common we met one of
those travelling carts hung all over with baskets, rugs, and such

‘like; you know, sir, many horses will not pass those carts
quietly ; he just took a good look at it, and then went on as



‘*ONE OF THOSE TRAVELLING CARTS HUNG ALL OVER WITH BASKETS.”

quiet and pleasant as could be. They were shooting rabbits
near the Highwood, and a gun went off close by; he pulled up
a little and looked, but did not stir a step to right or left. I
just held the rein steady and did not hurry him, and it’s my
opinion he has not been frightened or ill-used while he was
young.”
22 Black Beauty.

ote s well,” ead the Squire, ‘I will try him myself to-
morrow.’

The next oa I.was ee up for my master. I remem-
bered my mother’s counsel and my good old master’s, and I
tried to do exactly what he wanted me to do. I found he
was a very good rider, and thoughtful for, his horse, too.
When he came home, the. lady was at the hall door as he
rode up.

** Well, my dear,” she said, “ how do you like him?”

“He is exactly what John said,” he replied; “a pleasanter
creature I never wish to mount. What shall we call
him?”

“Would you like Ebony?” said she, “he is as black as
ebony.”

“No, not Ebony.”

«Will you call him ‘ Blackbird,’ like your uncle’s old
horse? ”

“No, he is far handsomer than old Blackbird ever was.’

“Yes,” she said, “hei is really quite a beauty, and he has
such a sweet good-tempered face and such a fine intelligent
eye—what do you say to calling him ‘ Black Beauty’ ?”

‘Black Beauty—why, yes, I think that is a very good name.
If you like, it shall be his name,” and so it was.

When John went into the stable, he told James that master
and mistress had chosen a good sensible English name for
me, that meant something, not like Marengo, or Pegasus, or
Abdallah. They both laughed, and James said, “ If it was
not for bringing back the past, I should have named him
‘Rob Roy,’ for I never saw two horses more alike.”

“That’s no wonder,” said John, “didn’t you know that
farmer Grey’s old Duchess was the mother of them both ? ”

I had never heard that before, and so poor Rob Roy who
was killed at that hunt was my brother! I did not wonder
that my mother was so troubled. It seems that horses have
no relations; at least, they never know each other after they
are sold.
A Fair Start. 3 + 28

John seemed very proud of me; he used to make my mane
and tail’ almost as smooth as a lady’s hair, and he would talk
to me a great deal; of course I did not understand all he said,
but I learned more and more to know what he meant, and
what he wanted me to do. -I grew very fond of him, he was
so gentle and kind, he seemed to know just how a horse feels,
and when’ he cleaned me, he knew the tender places, and the
ticklish places; when he brushed my head, he went as care-
fully over my eyes as if they were his own, and never stirred up
any ill-temper:

James Howard, the stable boy, was just as gentle and plea-
sant in his. way,’so I thought myself well off. There was
another man who helped in the yard, but he had very little to
do with Ginger and me.

A. few days after this I had to go out with Ginger in the
carriage. I wondered how we should get -on together ; but
except laying her ears back when I was led up to her, she
behaved very well. She did her work honestly, and did her -
full share, and I never wish to have a better partner in
double harness. When we came toa hill, instead of slacken-
ing her pace, she would throw her weight right into the
collar, and pull away straight up. We had both the same
sort of courage at our work, and John had oftener to hold
us in than to urge us forward; he never had to use the
whip with either of us; then our paces were much the same,
and I found it very easy to keep step with her when trotting,
which made it pleasant, and master always liked it when we
kept step well, and so did John. After we had been out two
or three times together we grew quite friendly and sociable,
which made me feel very much at home.

As for Merrylegs, he and I soon became great friends; he
was such a cheerful, plucky, good-tempered little fellow, that
he was a favourite with every one, and especially. with Miss
Jessie and Flora, who used to ride him about in the orchard,
and have fine games with him and their little dog Frisky.

Our master had two other horses that stood in another
24 Black Beauty.

' stable. One was Justice, a roan cob, used for riding, or for
_ the luggage cart; the other was an old brown hunter, named
Sir Oliver ; he was past work now, but was a great favourite
with the master, who gave him the run of the park; he some-
times did a little light carting on the estate, or carried one of
the young ladies when they rode out with their father; for he
was very gentle, and could be trusted with a child as well as
Merrylegs. The cob was a strong, well-made, good-tempered
horse, and we sometimes had a little chat in the paddock, but
of course I could not be so intimate with him as with Ginger,
who stood in the same stable.




CHAPTER VI.
LIBERTY.

WAS quite. happy in my new place, and if
there was one thing that I missed, it must not

be thought I was discontented ; all who had to

do with me were good, and I had a light airy

stable and the best of food: What more could

I want? Why, liberty! For three years and

a half of my life I. had had all the liberty I

could wish for ; but now, week after week,
' month after month, and no doubt year. after

year, I must stand up in a stable night and day
except when I am wanted, and then I must be just as
steady and quiet as any old horse who has worked twenty
years. Straps here and straps there, a bit in my mouth,
and blinkers over my eyes. Now, I am not complaining,
for I know it must be so. I only mean to say. that for a
young horse full of strength and spirits, who has been
used to some large field or plain, where he can fling up his
head, and toss up his tail and gallop away at full speed, then
round and back again with a snort to his companions—I say
it is hard never to have a bit more liberty to do as you like.
Sometimes, when I have had less exercise than usual, I have
felt so full of life and spring, that when John has taken me
out to exercise, I really could not keep quiet; do what I
would, it seemed as if I must jump, or. dance, or prance, and


26 Black Beauty.

many a good shake I know I must have given him, specially at
the first; but he was always good-and patient.

“‘ Steady, steady, my boy,” he would say ; “ wait a bit, and
we'll have a good swing, and soon get the tickle out of your
feet.” Then as soon as we were out of the village, he would
give me a few miles at a spanking trot, and then bring me
back as fresh as before, only clear of the fidgets, as he called
them. Spirited horses, when not enough exercised, are often



“¢ LIBERTY.”

called skittish, when it is only play; andsome groomswill punish
them, but our John did not, he knew it was only high spirits.
Still, he had his own ways of making me understand by the
tone of his voice or the touch of the rein. If he was very
serious and quite determined, I always knew it by his) voice,
and that had more power with me than anything else, f for I was
very fond of him.

I ought to say: that sometimes we had our liberty for a few
hours; this used to be on fine Sundays: in the summer-time.
Liberty. ’ 27

The carriage never went out on Sundays, because the church
was not far off. ; :
~ It was a great treat to us to be turned out into the home
paddock or the old orchard; the grass was so cool and soft to



“AS WE STOOD TOGETHER UNDER THE CHESTNUT TREE.”

our feet, the air so sweet, and the freedom to do as we. liked
was so pleasant; to gallop, to lie down, and roll over on our
backs, or to nibble the sweet grass. Then it was a very good
time for talking, as we stood together under the shade of the
large chestnut tree.


CHAPTER VII.
GINGER.

NE day when. Ginger and I were standing
alone in the shade we had a great deal of
talk; she wanted to know, all about my
bringing up and breaking in, and I told her.

“Well,” said she, ‘if I had had your
bringing up I might have been as good a




temper as you are, but now I don’t believe I
ever shall.”

“Why not?” I said.

‘Because it has been all so different with me,”
she replied. ‘‘I never had any one, horse or man, that was
kind to me, or that I cared to please, for in the first place
I was taken from my mother as soon as I was weaned, and put
with a lot of other young colts; none of them cared for me,*
and I cared for none of them. There was no kind master like
yours to look after me, and talk to me, and bring me nice things
to eat.. The man that had the care of us never gave me a kind
word.in my life. I donot mean that he ill-used me, but he did
not care for us one bit further than to see that we had plenty
to eat and shelter in the winter. A footpath ran through our
field, and very often the great boys passing through would
fling stones to make us gallop. I was never hit, but one fine
young colt was badly cut in the face, and I should think it
would be a scar for life. We did not care for them, but of
course it made us more wild, and we settled it in our minds


**COME ALONG, LASSIE, COME ALONG.”

that boys were our enemies./ We had very good fun in the
free meadows, galloping up and down and chasing each other
round and round the field; then standing still under, the
shade of the trees. But when it came to breaking in, that
was a bad time for me; several men came to catch me, and
when at last they closed me in at one corner of the field, one
caught me by the forelock, another caught me by the nose,
and held it so tight I could hardly draw my breath; then
another took my under jaw in his hard hand and wrenched my
mouth open, and so by force they got on the halter, and the
*
30 Black Beauty,

bar into my mouth; then one dragged me along by the halter,
another flogging behind, and this was the first experience u
had of men’s kindness, it was all force; they did not give me
a chance to know what they wanted. I was high bred and
had a great deal of spirit, and was very wild, no doubt, and
gave them, I daresay, plenty of trouble, but then it was dread-
ful to be shut up in a stall day after day instead of having my
liberty, and I fretted and pined and wanted to get loose.
You know yourself, it’s bad enough when you have a kind
master and plenty of coaxing, but there was nothing of that
sort for me. ;

“‘ There was one—the old master, Mr. Ryder—who I think
could soon have brought me round, and could. have done any- —
thing with me, but he had given up all that hard part of the
trade to his son and to another experienced man, and he only
came at times to oversee. His son was a strong, tall, bold
man ; they called him Samson, and he used to boast that he
had never found a horse that could throw him. There was
no gentleness in him as there was in his father, but only
hardness, a hard voice, a hard eye, a hard hand, and I felt
from the first that what he wanted was to wear all the spirit
out of me, and just make me into a quiet, humble, obedient
piece of horse-flesh. ‘ Horse-flesh!’ Yes, that is ali that he
thought about,” and Ginger stamped her foot as if the very
thought of him made her angry. And she went on: “IfI
did not do exactly what he wanted, he would get put out, and
make me run round with that long rein in the training field till
he had tired me out. I think he drank a good deal, and I am
quite sure that the oftener he drank the worse it was for me.
One day he had worked me hard in every way he could, and
when I lay down I was tired and miserable, and angry ; it all
seemed so hard.. The next morning he came for me early,
and ran me round again for a long time. I had scarcely had
an hour’s: rest, when he came again for me with a saddle and
bridle and a new kind of bit. I could never quite tell how
it came about; he had only just mounted me on the training
Ginger. a

ground, when something I did put him out of temper, and he
chucked me hard with the rein. The new bit was very pain-
ful, and I reared up suddenly, which angered him still more,
and he began to flog me. I felt my whole spirit set against
him, and I began to kick, and plunge, and rear as I had never
done. before, and we had a regular fight: for a long time he
stuck to the saddle and punished me cruelly with his whip and
spurs, but my blood was thoroughly up, and I cared for nothing
he-could do if only I could get him off. -At last, after a terrible
struggle, I threw him off backwards. I heard him fall heavily
on the turf, and without looking behind me, I galloped off to
the other end of the field; there I turned round and saw my
persecutor slowly rising from the ground and going into the
stable. I stood under an oak trée and watched, but no one
came to catch me. The time went on, the sun was very hot,
the flies swarmed round me, and settled on my bleeding flanks
where the spurs had dug in. I felt ‘hungry, for I had not
eaten since the early morning, but there was not enough grass
in that meadow for a goose to live on. I wanted to lie down
and rest, but with the saddle strapped tightly on, there was
no comfort, and there was not a drop of water to drink. The
afternoon wore on, and the sun got low. I saw the other colts
led in, and I knew they were having a good feed.

** At last, just as the sun went down,'I saw the old master
come out with a sieve in his hand. He was a very fine old
gentleman with quite white hair, but his voice was what I should
know him by amongst a thousand. It was not high, nor yet
low, but full, and clear, and kind, and when he gave orders it
was so steady and decided, that everyone knew, both horses
and men, that he expected to be obeyed. He came quietly
along, now and then shaking the oats about that he had in the
sieve, and speaking cheerfully and gently to me, ‘ Come along,
lassie, come along, lassie; come along, come along.’ I stood
still and let him come up; he held the oats to me, and I began
to eat without fear; his voice took all my fearaway. Hestood
by, patting and stroking me whilst I was eating, and seeing
32 Black Beauty.

the clots of blood on my side he seemed very vexed ; ‘ Poor
lassie! it was a bad business, a bad business!’ then he quietly
took the rein and led me to the stable; just at the door stood
Samson. I laid my ears back and snapped at him.’ ‘Stand
back,’ said the master, ‘ and keep out of her way ; you’ve done a
bad day’s work for this filly.’ He growled out something about
a vicious brute. ‘ Hark ye,’ said the father, ‘a bad-tempered
man will never make a good-tempered horse. You’ve not
learned your trade yet, Samson.’ Then he led me into my
box, took off the saddle and bridle with his own hands, and
tied me up; then he called for a pail of warm water and a
sponge, took off his coat, and while the stableman held the
pail, he sponged my sides a good while so tenderly that I was
sure he knew how sore and bruised they were. ‘Whoa! my
pretty one,’ he said, ‘stand still, stand still.’ His very voice
did me good, and the bathing was very comfortable. The skin.
was so broken at the corners of my mouth that I could not eat
the hay, the stalks hurt me. He looked closely at it, shook his
head, and told the man to fetch a good bran mash and put
some meal into it. How good that mash was! and so soft
and healing to my mouth. He stood by all the time I was
eating, stroking me and talking to the man. ‘If a high-
mettled creature like this,’ said he, ‘can’t be broken in by fair
means, she will never be good for anything.’

“After that he often came to see me, and when my mouth
was healed, the other breaker, Job they called him, went on
training me; he was steady and thoughtful, and I soon learned
what he wanted.”




‘©THE BEARING REIN. IT WAS ENOUGH TO DRIVE ONE MAD.”

CHAPTER VIII.

GINGER’S STORY CONTINUED.

| HE next time that Ginger and I were together
in the paddock, she told me about her first
place.
“After my breaking in,” she said, “1
was bought by a dealer to match another
chestnut horse. For some weeks he drove
us together, and then we were sold to a
fashionable gentleman, and were sent up to
London. I had been driven with a bearing
rein by the dealer, and I hated it worse than anything else ; but
in this place we were reined far tighter; the coachman and
his master thinking we looked more stylish so. We were
often driven about in the Park and other fashionable places.
D


34 Black Beauty.

°

You who never had a bearing rein on, don’t know what it is,
but I can tell you it is dreadful.

*‘T like to toss my head about, and hold it as high as any
horse ; but fancy now yourself, if you tossed your head up high
and were obliged to hold it there, and that for hours together,
not able to move it at all, except with a jerk still higher, your
neck aching till you did not know how to bear it. Beside that,
to have two bits instead of one; and mine was a sharp one, it
hurt my tongue and my jaw, and the blood from my tongue
coloured the froth that kept flying from my lips, as I chafed

and fretted
. at the bits
and rein; it
. was worst
when we
had to
stand by
the hour ~
waiting for
our. mis-
tress at
some
grand par-
ty or enter-
tainment ;
and if I
fretted or
stamped
with im-
patience
the whip
was laid
on. It was
enough to
drive one
“WE WERE OFTEN DRIVEN ABOUT IN THE PARK.” mad.”




“‘SENT UP TO LONDON AND SOLD AT TATTERSALL’S.”

a)
36 Black. Beauty.

‘Did not your master take any thought for you? ” Isaid. .

“No,” said she, ‘‘ he only cared to have a stylish turn-out, as
-they call it; I think he knew very little about horses, he left
that to his coachman, who told him I was an irritable temper ;
that I had not been well broken to the bearing rein, but I
should soon get used to it ; but Ze was not the man to do it, for
when I was in the stable, miserable and angry, instead of being
soothed and quieted by kindness, I got only a surly word or
_ablow. If he had been civil, I would have tried to bear it. I
was willing to work, and ready to work hard too; but to be
tormented for nothing but their fancies angered me. What
right had they to make me suffer like that? Besides the sore-
ness in my mouth and the pain in my neck, it always made my
windpipe feel bad, and if I had stopped there long, I know it
would have spoiled my breathing ; but I grew more and more
restless and irritable, I could not help it; and I began to snap
and kick when any one came to harness me; for this the
groom beat me, and one day, as they had just buckled us into
the carriage, and were straining my head up with that rein, I
began to plunge and kick with all my might. I soon broke a
lot of harness, and kicked myself clear; so that-was an end of
that place.

* After this, I was sent to Tattersall’s to be sold; of course
I could not be warranted free from vice, so nothing was said
about that. My handsome appearance and good paces soon
brought a gentleman to bid for me, and I was bought by
another dealer; he tried me in all kinds of ways and with
different bits, and he soon found out what I could not bear. At
last he drove me quite without a bearing rein, and then sold me
as a perfectly quiet horse to a gentleman in the country; he
was a good master, and I was getting on very well, but his old
groom left him and a new one came. This man was as hard-
tempered and hard-handed as Samson; he always spoke in
a rough, impatient voice, and if I did not move in the stall
the moment he wanted me, he would hit me above the hocks
with his stable broom or the fork, whichever he might have in
Ginger’s Story Continued. 37

his hand. Everything he did was rough, and I began to hate
him ; he wanted to make me afraid of him, but I was too high-
mettled for that ; and one day when he had aggravated me more
than usual, I bit him, which of course put him in .a great rage,
and he began to hit me about the head with a riding whip.
After that, he never dared to come into my stall again, either
my heels or my teeth were ready for him, and he knew it. I
was quite quiet with my master, but of course he listened to
what the man said, and so I was sold again.

““ The same dealer heard of me, and said he thought he knew
one place where I should do well. ‘’Twas a pity,’ he said,
‘that such a fine horse should go to the bad, for want of a real —
good chance,’ and the end of it was that I came here not long
before you did; but I had then made up my mind that men
were my natural enemies, and that I must defend myself. Of
course it is very different here, but who-knows how long it will
last? I wish I could think about things as you do; put I
can’t after all I have gone through.”

“Well,” I said, “I think it would be a real shame if you
were to bite or kick John or James.”

“‘T don’t mean to,” she said, “‘ while they are good to me.
I did bite James once pretty sharp, but John said, ‘ Try her
with kindness,’ and instead of punishing me as I expected,
James came to me with his arm bound up, and brought me a
bran mash. and stroked me; and I have never snapped at him
since, and I won’t either.”

I was sorry for Ginger, but of course I knew very little then,
and I thought most likely she made the worst of it ; however,
I found that as the weeks went on, she grew much more gentle
and cheerful, and had lost the watchful, defiant look that she
used to turn on any strange person who came near her; and ~
one day James said, “‘I do believe that mare is getting fond of
me, she quite whinnied after me this morning when I had
been rubbing her forehead.”

“* Aye, aye, Jim, ’tis the Birtwick balls,” said John, “she’ll
be as good as Black Beauty by-and-by; kindness is all the
38 Black Beauty.

3

physic she wants, poor thing!” Master noticed the change
too, and one day when he got out of the carriage and came to
speak to us as he often did, he stroked her beautiful neck,
** Well, my pretty one, well, how do things go with you now? °
you are a good bit happier than when you-came to us, I
think.”

She put her nose up to him in a friendly, trustful way, while
he rubbed it gently.

‘* We shall make a cure of her, John,” he said.

“Yes, sir, she’s wonderfully improved, she’s not the same
creature that she was; it’s the Birtwick balls, sir,’ said ieee
laughing.

This was a little joke of John’s; he used to say that a
regular course of the Birtwick horse-balls would cure almost
any vicious horse; these balls, he said, were made up of
patience and gentleness, firmness and petting, one pound of
each to be mixed up with half-a-pint of common sense, and
given to the horse every day. .




CHAPTER IX.
MERRYLEGS.

R. BLOMEFIELD, the Vicar, had a large
family of boys and girls; sometimes they
used to come and play with Miss Jessie and
Flora. One of the girls was as old as Miss
Jessie ; two of the boys were older, and there
were several little ones. When they came,

there was plenty of work for Merrylegs, for nothing pleased

them so much as getting on him by turns and riding him all
about the orchard and the home paddock, and this they
would do by the hour together.

One afternoon he had been out with them a long time, and
when James brought him in and put on his halter, he said,—

“There, you rogue, mind how you behave yourself, or we
shall get into trouble.”

‘What have you been doing, Merrylegs ?” I asked.

“Oh!” said he, tossing his little head, ‘‘I have only been
giving those young people a lesson, they did not know when
they had had enough, nor when I had had enough, so I just
pitched them off backwards, that was the only thing they could
understand.”

“What?” said I, ‘ you threw the children off? I thought
you did know better than that! Did you throw Miss Jessie
or Miss Flora?”

He looked very much offended, and said,—

“Of course not, I would not do such a thing for the best
oats that ever came into the stable; why, I am as careful of
our young ladies as the master could be, and as for the little


40 Black Beauty.

ones, it is I who teach them to ride. When they seem
frightened or a little unsteady on my back, I go as smooth
and as quiet as old pussy when she is after a bird ;. and when
they are all right, I go on again faster, you see, just to use
them to it; so don’t you trouble yourself preaching to me; I
am the best friend, and the best riding master those children
have. It is not them, it is the boys; boys,” said he, shaking
his mane, “are quite different ; they must be broken in, as



** MERRYLEGS.”

we were broken in when we were colts, and just be taught
what’s what. The other children had ridden me about for
nearly two hours, and then the boys thought it was their turn,
and so it was, and I was quite agreeable. They rode me by
turns, and I galloped them about up and down the fields and
all about the orchard for a good hour. They had each cut a
great hazel stick for a riding whip, and laid it on a little too
hard; but I took it in good part, till at last I thought we had
Merrylegs. 4I

had enough, so I stopped two or three times by way of a hint.
Boys, you see, think a horse or pony is like a steam engine or
a thrashing machine, and can go on as longand as fast as they
please ; they never think that a pony can get tired, or have
any feelings; so as the one who was whipping me could not
understand, I just rose up on my hind legs and let him slip
off behind—that was all; he mounted me again, and I did the
same. Then the other-boy got up, and as soon as he began
to use his stick I laid him on the grass, and so on, till they
were able to understand, that was all. They are not bad
boys ; they don’t wish to be cruel. I like them very well;
but you see I had to give thei a lesson. When they brought
me to James and told him, I think he was very angry to see
such big sticks. He said they were only fit for drovers or
gipsies, and not for young gentlemen.”

“If I had been you,” said Ginger, “I would have given
those boys a good kick, and that would have given them a
lesson.”

“No doubt you would,” said Merrylegs, “but then I am
not quite such a fool (begging your pardon) as to anger our
master or make James ashamed of me; besides, those children
are under my charge when they are riding; I tell you they
are intrusted tome. Why, only the other day I heard our
master say to Mrs. Blomefield, ‘My dear madam, you need
not be anxious about the children, my old Merrylegs will take
as much care of them as you or I could: I assure you I would
not sell that pony for any money, he is so perfectly good-
tempered and trustworthy ;’ and do you think I am such an
ungrateful brute as to forget all the kind treatment I have
had here for five years, and all the trust they place in me,
and turn vicious because a couple of ignorant boys used me
badly? No! no! you never had a good place where they
were kind to you; and so you don’t know, and I’m sorry for
you, but I can tell you good places make good horses. I
wouldn’t vex our people for anything; I love them, I do,”
said Merrylegs, and he gave a low “ho, ho, ho,” through
42 Black Beauty.

‘his nose, as he used to do in: the morning when he heard
James’s footstep at the door.

“ Besides,” he went on, “if I took to kicking, where should
I be? Why, sold off in a jiffy, and no character, and I
might find myself slaved about under a butcher’s boy, or
worked to death at some seaside place where no one cared
for me, except to find out how fast I could go, or be flogged
along in some cart with three or four great men in it going
out for a Sunday spree, as I have often seen in the place I
lived in before I came here; no,” said he, shaking his head,
‘“‘T hope I shall never come to that.”




‘“THE MASTER ON GINGER, THE MISTRESS ON ME.”

CHAPTER X.
A TALK IN THE ORCHARD.

INGER and I were not of the regular tall
carriage horse breed, we had more of the
racing blood in us. We stood about fifteen
anda half hands high; we were therefore just
as good for riding as we were for driving, and
our master used to say that he disliked either
horse or man that could do but one thing;
and as he did not want to show off in London
Parks, he preferred a more active and useful
kind ofhorse. As for us, our greatest pleasure

was when we were saddled for a riding party; the master on

Ginger, the mistress on me, and the young ladies on Sir Oliver


44 Black Beauty.

and Merrylegs. It was so cheerful to be trotting and.cantering
all together, that it always put us in high spirits. I had the
best of it, for I always carried the mistress; her weight was
little, her voice was sweet, and her hand was so light on the
rei, that I was guided almost without feeling it.

Oh! if people knew what a comfort to horses a light hand
is, and how it keeps a good mouth anda good temper, they |

surely would not chuck, and drag, and pull at the rein as they
often do. Our mouths are so tender, that where they have not
been spoiled or hardened with bad or ignorant treatment, they
feel the slightest movement of the driver’s hand, and we know
in an instant what is required of us. My mouth had never
been spoiled, and I believe that was why the mistress preferred
me to Ginger, although her paces were certainly quite as good.
She used often to envy me, and said it was all the fault of
breaking in, and the gag bit in London, that her mouth was

not so perfect as mine; and then old Sir Oliver would say, -

“There, there! don’t vex yourself; you have the greatest
honour; a mare that can carry a tall man of our master’s
weight, with all your spring and sprightly action, does not
need to hold her head down because she does not carry
the lady; we horses must take things as they come, and
always be contented and willing so long as we are kindly
used.”

I had often wondered how it was that Sir Oliver had such a
very short tail; it really was only six or seven inches long, with
a tassel of hair hanging from it; and on one of our holidays in
the orchard I ventured to ask him by what accident it was that
he had lost his tail. “Accident!” he snorted with a fierce
look, ‘‘it was no accident! it was a cruel, shameful, cold-
blooded act! When I was young I was taken to a place
where these cruel things were done; I was tied up, and made
fast so that I could not stir, and then they came and cut oft
my long beautiful tay through the flesh and through the bone,
and took it away.”

“ How dreadful!” I exclaimed.

>
A Talk in the Orchard. 45

“Dreadful! ah! it was dreadful; but it was not only the
pain, though that was terrible and lasted a long time; it was








not only the indignity of having
my best ornament taken from
me, though that was bad; but
it was this, how could I ever
brush the flies off my sides and
my hind legs any more? You
who have tails just whisk the
flies off without thinking about
it, and you can’t tell what a
torment it is to have them
settle upon you and sting and
sting, and have nothing in the
world to lash them off with. I
tell you it is a life-long wrong,
and a life-long loss ; but, thank Heaven! they don’t do it now.”

ican an

*©A TALK IN THE ORCHARD.”



”
46 Black Beauty.

“‘ What did they do it for then?” said Ginger.

“ For fashion |” said the old horse with a stamp of his foot ;
“for fashion! if you know what that means; there was not
a well-bred young horse in my time that had not his tail

-docked in that shameful way, just as if the good God that
made us did not know what we wanted and what looked best.”

“T suppose it is fashion that makes them strap our heads
up with those horrid bits that I was tortured with in London,”
said Ginger.

“Of course it is;” said he; ‘‘to my mind, fashion is one ot
the wickedest things in the world. Now look, for instance,
at the way they serve dogs, cutting off their tails to make them
look plucky, and shearing up their pretty little ears to a point
to make them look sharp, forsooth. I had a dear friend once,
a brown terrier; ‘Skye’ they called her, she was so fond of
me, that she never would sleep out of my stall; she made her
bed under the manger, and there she had a litter of five as
pretty little puppies as need be; none were drowned, for they
were a valuable kind, and how pleased she was with them!
and when they got their eyes open and crawled about, it was
a real pretty sight ; but one day the man came and took them
all away; I thought he might be afraid I should tread upon

‘them. But it was not so; in the evening poor Skye brought
them back again, one byone in her mouth; not the happy
little things that they were, but bleeding and crying pitifully ;
they had all hada piece of their tails cut off, and the soft
flap of their pretty little ears was cut quite off. How their
mother licked them, and how troubled she was, poor thing!
I never forgot it. They healed in time, and they forgot the
pain, but the nice soft flap that of course was intended to pro-
tect the delicate part of their ears from dust and injury, was
gone for ever. Why don’t they cut their own children’s ears
into points to make them look sharp? why don’t they cut the
end off their noses to make them look plucky? one would be
just as sensible as the other. What right have they to torment
and disfigure God’s creatures ?”
A Talk in the Orchard, 47

Sir Oliver, though he was so gentle, was a fiery old fellow,
and what he said was all so new to me and so dreadful, that I
found a bitter feeling toward men rise up in my mind that I
never had before. Of course Ginger was much excited ; she
flung up her head with flashing eyes, and distended nostrils,
declaring that men were both brutes and blockheads.

‘Who talks about blockheads?” said Merrylegs, who just
came up from the old apple tree, where he had been rubbing
himself against the low branch; ‘‘ Who talks about block-
heads? I believe that is a bad word.”



‘RUSSIAN TROTTER, TRAINED BY THE HUMAN VOICE.”

‘Bad words were made for bad things,” said Ginger, and
she told him what Sir Oliver had said. ‘It is all true,” said
Merrylegs sadly, ‘‘ and I’ve seen that about the dogs over and
over again where I lived first; but we won’t talk about it here.
You know that master, and John, and James are always good
to us, and talking against men in such a place as this, doesn’t
seem fair or grateful, and you know there are good masters
and good grooms besides ours, though, of course, ours are the
best.” This wise speech of good little Merrylegs, which we
knew was quite true, cooled us all down, especially Sir Oliver,
48 Black Beauty.

who was dearly fond of his master ; and to turn the subject I
said, ‘‘ Can any one tell me the use of blinkers ? ”

“No!” said Sir Oliver, shortly, “because they are no
use.”

“They are supposed,” said Justice in his calm way, “to
prevent horses from shying and starting, and getting so fright-
ened as to cause accidents.”

“ Then what is the reason they do not put them on riding
horses; especially on ladies’ horses?” said I.

“ There is no reason at all,” said he, quietly, “‘except the
fashion: they say that a horse would be so frightened to see
the wheels of his own cart or carriage coming behind him, »
that he would be sure to run away, although of course when
he is ridden, he sees them all about him if the streets are
crowded. I admit they do sometimes come too close to be
pleasant, but we don’t run away; we are used to it, and
understand it, and if we had never blinkers put on, we should
never want them; we should see what was there, and know
what was what, and be much less frightened than by only
seeing bits of things, that we can’t understand.”

Of course there may be some nervous horses who have been
hurt or frightened when they were young, and may be
the better for them, but as I never was nervous, I can’t
judge.

“I consider,” said Sir Oliver, ‘‘ that blinkers*are dangerous
things in the night; we horses can see much better in the
dark than man can, and many an accident would never have
happened if horses might have had the full use of their eyes,
Some years ago, 1 remember, there was a hearse with two
horses returning one dark night, and just by farmer Sparrow’s
house, where the pond is close to the road, the wheels went
too near the edge, and the hearse was overturned into the
water; both the horses were drowned, and the driver hardly
escaped. Of course after this accident a stout white rail was
put up that might be easily seen, but if those horses had not
been partly blinded, they would of themselves have kept farther
A Talk in the Orchard. 49

from the edge, and no accident would have happened. When
our master’s carriage was overturned, before you came here,
it was said that if the lamp on the left side had not gone out,
John would have seen the great hole that the road-makers had
left; and so he might, but if old Colin had not had blinkers
on, he would have seen it, lamp or no lamp, for he was far'too
knowing an old horse to run into danger. As it was, he was
very much hurt, the carriage was broken, and how John
escaped nobody knew.”

“JT should say,” said Ginger, cise her nostril, “‘ that these
men, who are so wise, had better give orders, that in future,
all foals should be born with their eyes set just in the middle
of their foreheads, instead of on the side; they always think
they can improve upon nature and mend what God has
made.”

Things were getting rather sore again, when Menyieze held
up his knowing little face and said, “I'll tell you asecret; I
believe John does not approve of blinkers, I heard him talking
with master about it one day. The master: said, that ‘if
horses had been used to them, it might be dangerous in some
cases to leave them off,’ and John said he thought it would be
a good thing if all colts were broken in without blinkers, as
was the case in some foreign countries; so let us cheer up,
and have a run to the other end of the orchard; I believe the
wind has blown down some apples, and we might just as well
eat them as the slugs.”

Merrylegs could not be resisted, so we broke off our long con-
versation, and got up our spirits by munching some very sweet
apples which lay scattered on the grass. |


CHAPTER XI.
PLAIN SPEAKING.

HE longer I lived at Birtwick, the more
proud and happy I felt at having such
a place. Our master and mistress
were respected and beloved by all who
knew them ; they were good and kind

_to everybody and everything; not-
only men and women, but horses and
donkeys, dogs and cats, cattle and
birds ; there was no oppressed or ill-
used creature that had not a friend
in them, and their servants took the
same tone. If any of the village
children were known to treat any
creature cruelly, they soon heard

about it from the Hall. .
The Squire and farmer Grey had worked together, as they
said, for more than twenty -years, to get bearing reins on the
cart horses done away with, and in our parts you seldom saw
them; but sometimes if mistress met a heavily-laden horse,

-with his head strained up, she would stop the carriage and get

out, and reason with the driver in her sweet serious voice, and
try to show him how foolish and cruel it was. _ .

I don’t think any man could withstand our mistress. I wish
all ladies were like her. Our master too, used to come down
very heavy sometimes; I remember he was riding me towards


Plain Speaking. . ea]

home one morning, when we saw a powerful man driving to-
wards us in a light pony chaise, with a beautiful little bay pony,
with slender legs, and a high-bred sensitive head and face.
Just as he came to the Park gates, the little thing turned to-
wards them; the man, without word or warning, wrenched
the creature’s head round with such a force and suddenness,
that he nearly threw it on its haunches; recovering itself, it
was going on when he began to lash it furiously; the pony
plunged forward, but the strong heavy hand held the pretty
creature back with force almost enough to break its jaw,
whilst the whip still cut into him. It wasa dreadful sight
to me, for I knew what fearful pain it gave that delicate little
mouth; but master gave me the word, and we were up with
him in a second.

“* Sawyer,” he cried in a stern voice, “is that pony made of
flesh and blood?”

‘Flesh and blood and temper,” he said; ‘he’s too fond of
his own will, and that won’t suit me.” He spoke as if he was
in a strong passion; he was a builder who had often been to
the Park on business.

“And do you think,” said master sternly, ‘that treatment -
like this will make him fond of your will ? ”

‘He had no business to make that turn; his road was
straight on!” said the man roughly.

“You have often driven that pony up to my place,” said
master ; “‘ it only shows the creature’s memory and intelligence ;
how did he know that you were not going there again? but
that has little to do with it. I must say, Mr. Sawyer, that-
more unmanly, brutal treatment of a little pony, it was never
my painful iot to witness; and by giving way to such passion,
you injure your own character as much, nay more, than you.
injure your horse, and remember, we shall all have to be
judged according to our works, whether they be towards man .
or towards beast.”

Master rode me home slowly, and I could tell by his voice
how the thing had grieved him. He was just as free to speak

E 2


‘© SAWYER,’ HE CRIED... ‘IS THAT PONY MADE OF FLESH AND BLOOD??”
Plain Speaking. 53

to gentlemen of his own rank as to those below him; for
another day, when we were out, we met a Captain Langley, a
friend of our master’s; he was driving.a splendid pair of greys
in a kind of break. After a little conversation the Captain
, said,—

“What do you think of my new team, Mr. Douglas? you
' know, you are the judge of horses in these parts, and I should
like your opinion.”

The master backed me a little, so as to get a good view of
them. ‘They are an uncommonly handsome pair,” he said,
‘and if they are as good as they look, I am sure you need not
wish for anything better; but I see you get hold of that pet
scheme of yours for worrying your horses and lessening their
power.”

“What do you.mean,” said the other, ‘‘the bearing reins ?
Oh, ah! I know that’s a hobby of yours; well, the fact is, I
like to see my horses hold their heads up.”

“So do I,” said master, ‘fas well as any man, but I don’t
like to see them eld up; that takes all the shine out of it.
Now you area military man, Langley, and no doubt like to
see your regiment look well on parade, ‘Heads up,’ and all
that ; but you would not take much credit for your drill, if all
your men had their heads tied to a backboard! It might not
be much harm on parade, except to worry and fatigue them,
but how would it be in a bayonet charge against the enemy,
when they want the free use of every muscle, and all their
strength thrown forward? I would not give much for their
chance of victory, and it is just’ the same with horses; you
fret and worry their tempers, and decrease their power; you
will not let them throw their weight against their work, and
so they have to do too much with their joints and muscles,
and of course it wears them up faster. You may depend upon .
it, horses were intended to have their heads free, as free as
men’s are; and if we could act a little more according to
common sense, and a good deal less according to fashion, we
should find many things work easier; besides, you know as
54 | Black Beauty.

well as I, that if a horse makes a false step, he has much less
chance of recovering himself if his head and neck are fastened
back. And now,” said the master, laughing, “I have given
» my hobby a good trot out, can’t you make up your mind to
mount him too, Captain? your example would go a long way.”

“‘T believe you are right in theory,’ said the other, “ and
that’s rather a hard hit about the soldiers; but—well—I’ll
think about it,” and so they parted.




‘“CCTHAT WAS A VERY NEAR TOUCH,’ SAID MY MASTER.”

CHAPTER XII.
A STORMY DAY.

NE day late in the autumn, my master had a
long journey to go on business. I was put
into the dog-cart, and John went with his
master. I always liked to go in the dog-cart,
it was so light, and the high wheels ran along
so pleasantly. There had been a great deal
of rain, and now the wind was very high, and

blew the dry leaves across the road in a shower. We went
along merrily till we came to the toll-bar and the low wooden
bridge. The river banks were rather high, and the bridge,
instead of rising, went across just level, so that in the middle
if the river was full, the water would be nearly up to the
woodwork and planks; but as there were good substantial
rails on each side, people did not mind it.


56 Black Beauty.

The man at the gate said the river was rising fast, and he
feared it would be a bad night. Many of the meadows were
under water, and in one low part of the road, the water was
half way up to my knees; the bottom was good, and master
drove gently, so it was no matter.

When we got to the town, of course I had a good bait, but
as the master’s business engaged him a long time, we did not
start for home till rather late in the afternoon. The wind
was then much higher, and I heard the master say to
John, he had never been out in such a storm; and so I
thought, as we went along the skirts of a wood, where the
great branches were swaying about like twigs, and the rushing
sound was terrible.

“‘T wish we were well out of this wood,” said my master.

“Yes, sir,” said John, ‘it would be rather awkward if one
of these branches came down upon us.”

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when there was
_a groan, and a crack, and a splitting sound, and tearing,
crashing down amongst the other trees, came an oak, torn
up by the roots, and it fell right across the road just before us.
I will never say I was not frightened, for I was. I stopped
still, and I believe I trembled ; of course I did not turn round
or run away ; I was not brought up to that. John jumped out
and was in a moment at my head.

“That was a very near touch,” said my master; ‘ what’s to
be done now?”

“Well, sir, we can’t drive over that tree nor yet get round
it; there will be nothing for it, but to go back to the four
cross ways, and that will be a good six miles before we get -
round to the wooden bridge again; it will make us late, but |
the horse is fresh.”

So back we went, and round by the cross roads; but by the
time we got to the bridge, it was very nearly dark, we could
just see that the water was over the middle of it; but as that
happened sometimes when the floods were out, master did not
stop. We were going along at a good pace, but the moment
A Stormy Day. 57

my feet touched the first part of the bridge, I felt sure there
was something wrong. I dare not go forward, and I made a
dead stop. “‘Go on, Beauty,” said my master, and he gave
me a touch with the whip, but I dare not stir; he gave mea
sharp cut, I jumped, but I dare not go forward.

“‘There’s something wrong, sir,” said John, and he sprang
out of the dog-cart and came to my head and looked all about.
He tried to lead me forward. ‘‘Come on, Beauty, what’s the
matter?” Of course I could not tell him, but I knew very
well that the bridge was not safe.

Just then the man at the toll-gate on the other side ran out
of the house, tossing a torch about like one mad.

** Hoy, hoy, hoy, halloo, stop!” he cried.

‘*What’s the matter ?”’ shouted my master.

“The bridge is broken in the middle, and part of it is carried
away; if you come on you'll be into the river.”

“Thank God!” said my master. ‘You Beauty!” said
John, and took the bridle and gently turned me round to the
right-hand road by the river side. The sun had set some
time, the wind seemed to have lulled off after that furious
blast which tore up the tree. It grew darker and darker,
stiller and stiller. I trotted quietly along, the wheels hardly
making a sound on the soft road. For a good while neither
master nor John spoke, and then master began in a serious
voice. I could not understand much of what they said, but I
found they thought, if I had gone on as the master wanted
me, most likely the bridge would have given way under us,
and horse, chaise, master and man would have fallen into the
river; and as the current was flowing very strongly, and there
was no light and no help at hand, it was more than likely we
should all have been drowned. Master said, God had given
men reason, by which they could find out things for them-
selves, but he had given animals knowledge which did not
depend on reason, and which was much more prompt and
perfect in its way, and by which they had often saved the
lives of men. John had many stories to tell of dogs and


** THE BRIDGE IS BROKEN IN THE MIDDLE,’ SAID JOHN.”
A Stormy Day. 59

horses, and the wonderful things they had done; he thought
people did not value their animals half enough, nor make
friends of them as they ought to do. Iam sure he makes
friends of them if ever a man did.

At last we came to the Park gates, and found the gardener
looking out for us. He said that mistress had been in a dread-
ful way ever since dark, fearing some accident had happened,
and that she had sent James off on Justice, the roan cob,
towards the wooden bridge to make inquiry after us.

We saw a light at the hall door and at the upper windows,
and as we came up, mistress ran out, saying, ‘‘ Are you really
safe, my dear? Oh! I have been so anxious, fancying all sorts
of things. Have you had no accident ?”

“No, my dear; but if your Black Beauty had not been
wiser than we were, we should all have been carried down the
river at the wooden bridge.” I heard no more, as they went
into the house, and John took me to the stable. Oh, what a
good supper he gave me that night, a good bran mash and
some crushed beans with my oats, and such a thick bed of
straw! and I was glad of it, for I was tired.




CHAPTER XIII
THE DEVIL’S TRADE MARE.

NE day when John and I had been out on
some business of our master’s, and were
returning gently on a long straight road, at
some distance we saw a boy trying to leap
a pony over a gate; the pony would not take
the leap, and the boy cut him with the whip,
but he only turned off on one side. He
whipped him again, but the pony turned off

on the other side. Then the boy got off and gave him a

hard thrashing, and knocked him about the head; then he

got up again and tried to make him leap the gate, kicking
him all the time shamefully, but still the pony refused. When
we were nearly at the spot, the pony put down his head and
threw up his heels and sent the boy neatly over into a broad
quickset hedge, and with the rein dangling from his head he
set off home at a full gallop. John laughed out quite loud:

‘* Served him right,” he said.

“Oh! oh! oh!” cried the boy as he struggled about
amongst the thorns; “I say, come and help me out.”

“Thank ye,” said John, “I think you are quite in the
right place, and maybe a little scratching will teach you not
to leap a pony over a gate that is too high for him,” and so _
with that John rode off. ‘It may be,” said he to himself,
“that young fellow is a liar as well as a cruel one; we’ll just
go home by farmer Bushby’s, Beauty, and then if anybody
wants to know, you and I can tell ’’em, ye see”; so we turned


The Devil's Trade Mark. 61

off to the right, and soon came up to the stack yard, and
within sight of the house. The farmer was hurrying out
into the road, and his wife was standing at the gate, looking -
very frightened. —

*‘ Have you seen my boy?” said Mr. Bushby, as we came
up; ‘‘he went out an hour ago on my black pony, and the
creature is just come back without a rider.” .

‘*T should think, sir,” said John, “‘ he had better be without
a rider, unless he can be ridden properly.” '

“What do you mean ?” said the farmer.

“Well, sir, I saw your son whipping, and kicking, and
knocking that good little pony about shamefully, because he
would not leap a gate that was too high for him. The pony
behaved well, sir, and showed no vice; but at last he just threw
up his heels, and tipped the young gentleman into the thorn,
hedge; he wanted me to help him out; but I hope you will
excuse me, sir, I did not feel inclined todo so. There’s no
bones broken, sir, he’ll only get a few scratches. I love horses,
and it roiles me to see them badly used; it is a bad plan to
aggravate an animal till he uses his heels; the first time is not
always the last.” .

During this time the mother began to cry, ‘‘Oh! my poor
Bill, I must go and meet him, he must be hurt.”

‘You had better go into the house, wife,” said the farmer ;
‘‘ Bill wants a lesson about this, and I must see that he gets
it; this is not the first time nor the second that he has ill-
used that pony, and I shall stop it. I am much obliged to you,
Manly. Good evening.”

So we went, John chuckling all the way home; then he told
James about it, who laughed and said, “Serve him right. I
knew that boy at school; he took great airs on himself
because he was a farmer’s son; he used to swagger about and
bully the little boys; of course we elder ones would not have
any of that nonsense, and let him know that in the school
and the playground, farmers’ sons and labourers’ sons were all
alike. I well remember one day, just before afternoon school,
62 Black Beauty.

I found him at the large window catching flies and pulling off .
their wings. He did not see me, and I gave him a box on the
ears that laid him sprawling on the floor. Well, angry as I
was, I was almost frightened, he roared.and bellowed in such
a style. The boys rushed in from the playground, and the
master ran in from the road to see who was being murdered.
Of course I said fair and square at once what I had done, and
why ; then I showed the master the poor flies, some crushed
and some crawling about helpless, and I showed him the wings
on the window sill. Inever saw him so angry before; but as
Bill was still howling and whining, like the coward that he
was, he did not give him any more punishment of that —
kind, but set him up on a stool for the rest of the afternoon,
and said that he should not go out to play for that week.
_ Then he talked to all the boys very seriously about cruelty,
and said how hard-hearted and cowardly it was to hurt the
weak and the helpless; but what stuck in my mind was
this, he said that cruelty was the devil’s own trade mark,
and if we saw any one who took pleasure in cruelty, we
might know who he belonged to, for the devil was a murderer
from the beginning, and a tormenter to the end. On the other
hand, where we saw people who loved their neighbours, and
were kind to man and beast, we oe know that was God’s
mark, for ‘ God is Love.’ ”

“Your master never taught you a truer thing,” said John;
“ there is no religion without love, and people may talk as
much as they like about their religion, but if it does not
teach them to be good and kind to man and beast, it is all
a sham—all a sham, James, and it won’t stand when things

come to be turned inside out and put down for what they
are.”


CHAPTER XIV.
JAMES HOWARD.

NE morning, early in December, John had
just led me into my box after my daily
exercise, and was strapping my cloth on,
and James was coming in from the corn
chamber with some oats, when the master
came into the stable; he looked rather
serious, and held an open letter in his hand,
John fastened the door of my box, touched
his cap, and waited for orders.

“Good morning, John,” said the master; “I want ‘to know
if you have any complaint to cake ‘of James.”

‘Complaint, sir? No, sir.’

“Is he industrious at his work and respectful to you?”

“Yes, sir, always.”

“You never find he slights his work when your back is
turned ?”

‘* Never, sir.”

““That’s well; but I must put another question: have you
no reason to suspect when he goes out with the horses to
exercise them, or to take a message, that he stops about
talking to his acquaintances, or goes into housés where he has
no business, leaving the horses outside? ”

“No, sir, certainly not, and if anybody has been saying that
about James, I don’t believe it, and I don’t mean to believe it
unless I have it fairly proved before witnesses; it’s not for
me to say who has been trying to take away James’ character ;
but I will say this, sir, that a steadier, ‘pleasanter, honester,



\
64 Black Beauty,

smarter young fellow I never had in this stable. I can trust his
word and I can trust his work; he is gentle and clever with the
horses, and I would rather have them in charge with him,
than with half the young fellows I know of in laced hats and
liveries ; and whoever wants a character of James Howard,”
said John, with a decided jerk of his head, “let them come to
John Manly.”

The master stood all this time grave and attentive ; but as
John finished his speech, a broad smile spread over his face,
and looking kindly across at James, who, all this time had
stood still at the door, he said, “‘ James, my lad, set down the
oats and come here; I am very glad to find that John’s
opinion of your character agrees so exactly with my own.
John is a cautious man,” he said, with a droll smile, “and
it is not always easy to get his opinion about people, so I
thought if I beat the bush on this side the birds would fly
out, and I should learn what I wanted to know quickly; so
now we will come to business. I have a letter from my
brother-in-law, Sir Clifford Williams, of Clifford Hall. He
wants me to find him a trustworthy young groom, about
twenty or twenty-one, who knows his business. His old
coachman, who has lived with him thirty years, is getting
feeble, and he wants a man to work with him and get into
his ways, who would be able, when the old: man was pen-
sioned off, to step into his. place. He would have eighteen
shillings a week at first, a stable suit, a driving suit, a bed-
room over the coach-house, and a boy underhim. _ Sir Clifford
is a good master, and if you could get the place, it would bea
good start for you. I don’t want to part with you, and if
you left us, I know John would lose his right hand.”

“That I should, sir,” said John, “but I would not stand in
his light for the world.” ,

“How old are you, James?” said master.

“Nineteen next May, sir.”

“That’s young ; what do you think, John?”

“Well, sir, it is young: but he is as steady as a man, and
James Howard. 65

is strong, and well grown, and though he has not had much
experience in driving, he has a light firm hand, and a quick
eye, and he is very careful, and I am quite sure no horse of ©
his will be ruined for want of having his feet and shoes looked
after.”

“Your.word will go the furthest, John,” said the master,
“for Sir Clifford adds in a postscript, ‘If I could find a man
trained by your John, I should like him better than any
other ;’ so James, lad, think it over, talk to your mother at
dinner time, and then let me know what you wish.”

In a few days after this conversation, it was fully settled that
James should go to Clifford Hall, in a month or six weeks, as
it suited his master, and in the meantime he was to get all
the practice in driving that could be given to him. I never
knew the carriage go out so often before: when the mistress
did not go out, the master drove himself in the two-wheeled
chaise; but now, whether it was master or the young ladies, or
only an errand, Ginger and I were put into the carriage and
James drove us. At the first, John rode with him on the
_ box, telling him this and that, and after that James drove
alone. +

Then it was wonderful what a number of places the master
would go to in the city on Saturday, and what queer streets
we were driven through. He was sure to go to the railway
station just as the train was coming in, and cabs and carriages,
carts and omnibuses were all trying to get over the bridge to-
gether; that bridge wanted good horses and good drivers
when the railway bell was ringing, for it was narrow, and
there was a very sharp turn up to the station, where it would
not have been at all difficult for people to run into each
other, if they did not look sharp and keep their wits about
them,


Fury

THE OLD OSTLER.

FTER this, it was decided by my
master and mistress to pay a visit
to some friends who lived about
forty-six miles from our home,
and James was to drive them.

The first day we travelled thirty-two miles ;

there were some long heavy hills, but James

drove so carefully and thoughtfully that
we were not at all harassed. He never
forgot to put on the drag as we went
down hill, nor to take it off at*the right
place. He kept our feet on the smoothest
part of the road, and if the uphill was very

- long, he set the carriage wheels a little
across the road, so as not to run back, and gave us a breathing.

All these little things help a horse very much, particularly if

he gets kind words into the bargain.

We stopped once or twice on the road, and just as the sun
was going down, we reached the town where we were to spend
the night. We stopped at the principal hotel, which was in
the Market Place; it was avery large one; we drove under
an archway into a long yard, at the further end of which were
the stables and coach-houses. Two ostlers came to take us
out. The head ostler was a pleasant, active little man, with a
crooked leg, and a yellow striped waistcoat. I never saw a
man unbuckle harness so quickly as he did, and with a pat and



Lhe Old Ostler. 67

a good word he led me to a long stable, with six or eight stalls
in it, and two or three horses. The other man brought
Ginger; James stood by whilst we were rubbed down and
cleaned.

I never was cleaned so lightly and quickly as by that little
old man. When he had done, James stepped up and felt me
over, as if he thought I could not be thoroughly done, but he
found my coat as.clean and smooth as silk.

“Well,” he said, “‘I thought I was pretty quick, and our
John quicker still, but you do beat all I ever saw for being
quick and thorough at the same time.”

“Practice makes perfect,’ said the crooked little ostler,
‘and ’twould be a pity if it didn’t; forty years’ practice, and
not perfect! ha, ha! that would be a pity; and as to being
quick, why, bless you! that is only a matter of habit; if you
get into the habit of being quick, it is just as easy as being
slow; easier, I should say; in fact, it don’t agree with my
health to be hulking about over a job twice as long as it need
take. Bless you! I couldn’t whistle if I crawled over my work
as some folks do! You see, I have been about horses ever
since I was twelve years old, in hunting stables, and racing
stables; and being small, ye see, I was jockey for several
years; but at the Goodwood, ye see, the turf was very slippery
and my poor Larkspur got a fall, and I broke my knee, and so
of course I was of no more use there; but»I could not live
without horses, of course I couldn’t, so I took to the hotels,
and I can tell ye it is a downright pleasure to handle an
animal like this, well-bred, well-mannered, well-cared for;
bless ye! I can tell how a horse is treated. Give me the
handling of a horse for twenty minutes, and I'll tell you what
sort of a.groom he has had; look at this one, pleasant, quiet,
turns about just as you want him, holds up his feet to be
cleaned out, or anything else you please to wish; then you'll
find another, fidgety, fretty, won’t move the right way, or
starts across the stall, tosses up his head as soon as you come
near him, lays his ears, and seems afraid of you; or else

F 2
68 | Llack Beauty.

squares about at you with his heels. Poor things! I know
what sort of treatment they have had. If they are timid, it
makes them start or shy; if they are high mettled, it makes
them vicious or dangerous; their tempers are mostly made
=| when» they are
young. Bless you!
they are like chil-
dren, train ’em up
in the way they
should go, as the
good book says,
and when they are
old they will not
depart from it, if
theyhaveachance,
that is.”

“T like to hear
you talk,” said
James, “that’s the:
way we lay it down
at home, at our
master’s.”

“Who is your
master, young
man? if it be a
proper question.
I should judge he
is a good one, from
what I see.”



ES “He is Squire
“‘JAMES AND THE OLD MAN LEFT THE STABLE Gordon, of Birt-
TOGETHER.” wick Park, the

other side the’
Beacon Hills,” said James.

“Ah! so, so, I have heard tell of him; fine judge of horses,
ain’t he? the best rider in the county?” ~
The Old Ostler. 69

“T believe he is,” said James, ‘‘ but he rides very little now,
since the poor young master was killed.”
“Ah! poor-gentleman ; I read all about it in the paper at
the time ; a fine horse killed too, wasn’t there? ”
‘* Yes,” said James, ‘‘ he was a splendid creature, brother to
this one, and just like him.”
“Pity! pity!” said the old man, “’twas a bad place to leap,
if I remember; a thin fence at top, a steep bank down to the
‘stream, wasn’t it? no chance for a horse to see where he is
going. Now, I am for bold riding as much as any man, but
still there are some leaps that only a very knowing old hunts-
man has any right to take; a man’s life and a horse’s life are
worth more than a fox’s tail, at least I should say they ought
to be.”
During this time the other man had finished Ginger,. and
had brought our corn, and James and the old man left the
stable together.












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CHAPTER XVI.

THE FIRE.

8 ATER on in the evening, a traveller’s horse
was brought in by the second ostler, and
whilst he was cleaning him, a young man
with a pipe in his mouth lounged into the
stable to gossip.

“I say, Towler,” said the ostler, ‘‘ just
run up the ladder into the loft and put
some hay down into this horse’s rack, will
you? only lay down your pipe.”

“ All right,” said the other, and went up through the trap
door ; and I heard him step across the floor overhead and put
down the hay. James came in to look at us the last thing,
and then the door, was locked.

I cannot say how long I had slept, nor what time in the
night it was, but I woke up feeling very uncomfortable, though
I hardly knew why. I got up, the air seemed all thick and
choking. I heard Ginger coughing, and one of the other horses
seemed very restless; it was quite dark, and I could see
nothing, but the stable seemed full of smoke and I hardly
knew how to breathe.

The trap door had been left open, and I thought that was the
place it came through. I listened and heard a soft rushing sort of
noise, and a low crackling andsnapping. I did not know what
it was, but there was something in the sound so strange, that


The Fire. ot

it made me tremble all over. The other horses were now all
awake ; some were pulling at their halters, others were stamp-
ing.

At last I heard steps outside, and the ostler who had put up
the traveller’s horse, burst into the stable with a lantern, and
began to untie the horses, and try to lead them out; but he
seemed in such a hurry, and so frightened himself that he
frightened me still more. The first horse would not go with
him ; he tried the second and third, they too would not stir.
He came to me next and tried to drag me out of the stall by
force, of course that was no use. He tried us all by turns and
then left the stable.

No doubt we were very foolish, but danger seemed to be all
round, and there was nobody we knew to trust in, and all was
strange and uncertain. The fresh air that had come in through
the open door made it easier to breathe, but the rushing sound
overhead grew louder, and as I looked upward, through the
bars of my empty rack, I saw-a red light flickering on the wall.
Then I heard a cry of “ Fire” outside, and the old ostler
quietly and quickly came in; he got one horse out, and went
to another, but the flames were playing round the trap door,
and the roaring overhead was dreadful.

The next thing I heard was James’s voice, quiet and cheery,
as it always was.

* Come, my beauties, it is time for us to be off, so wake up
and come along.” I stood nearest the door, so he came to me
first, patting me as he came in.

“Come, Beauty, on with your bridle, my boy, we’ll soon be
out of this smother.” It was on in no time; then he took the
scarf off his neck, and tied it lightly over. my eyes, and patting
and coaxing he led me out of the stable. Safe in the yard, he
slipped the scarf off my eyes, and shouted, ‘‘ Here somebody !
take this horse while I go back for the other.”

A tall broad man stepped forward and took me, and James
darted back into the stable. I set up a shrill whinny as I saw
him go. Ginger told me afterwards, that whinny was the best


“COAXING, HE LED ME OUT OF THE STABLE.”
The Fire. 73



‘rls THE FIRE. ENGINE.”

thing I could have done for her, for had'she not heard me out-
side, she would never have had courage to come out.

There was much confusion in the yard; the horses being .
got : -out of other stables, and the carriages and gigs being
pulled out of houses and sheds, lest the flames should spread
further. On the other side the yard, windows were thrown up,
and people were shouting all sorts of things; but I kept my
eye fixed: on the stable door, where the smoke poured out
thicker than ever, and I could see flashes of red light ; presently
I heard above all the stir and din a loud clear voice, which I
knew was master’s—

“‘ James Howard! James Howard! are youthere?” There
was no answer, but I heard a crash of something falling in the
74 Black Beauty.

stable, and the next moment I gave a loud joyful neigh, for. I
saw James coming through the smoke, leading Ginger with
him ; she was coughing violently and he was not able to
speak.

“My brave lad!” said master, laying his hand on ie
shoulder, ‘‘ are you hurt ? ”

James shook his head, for he could not yet speak.

‘* Aye,” said the big man who held me; “he is a brave lad,
and no mistake.”

‘** And now,” said master, ‘‘ when you have got your breath,
James, we'll get out of this place as quickly as we can,” and
we. were moving towards the entry when from the Market
Place there came a sound of galloping feet and loud rumbling
wheels.

“°Tis the fire engine! the fire engine!” shouted two or
three voices, “stand back, make way!” and clattering and
thundering over the stones, two horses dashed into the yard
with the heavy engine behind them. The firemen leaped to
the ground; there was no need to ask where the fire was—it
was torching up in a great blaze from the roof.

We got out as fast as we could into the broad quiet Market
Place; the stars were shining, and except the noise behind us,
all was still. Master led the way to a large Hotel on the
other side, and as soon as the ostler came, he said, “* James,
I must now hasten to your mistress ; I trust the horses entirely
to you, order whatever you think is needed,” and with that he
was gone. The master did not run, but I never saw mortal
man walk so fast as he did that night.

There was a dreadful sound before we got into our stalls;
the shrieks of those poor horses that were left burning to death
in the stable—it was very terrible! and made both Ginger
and me feel very bad. We, however, were taken in and well
done by.

The next morning the master came to see how we were
and to speak to James. I did not hear much, for the ostler
was rubbing me down, but I could see that James looked very
The Fire. 15

happy, and I thought the master was proud of him. Our
mistress had been so much alarmed in the night, that the
journey was put off till the afternoon, so James had the morn-
ing on hand, and went first to the inn to see about our ‘harness
and the carriage, and then to hear more about the fire.
When he came back, we heard him tell the cstler about it.
At first no one could guess how the fire had been caused, but
at last a man said he saw Dick Towler go into the stable with
a pipe in his mouth, and when he came out he had not one,
and went to the tap for another. Then the under ostler said
he had asked Dick to go up the ladder to put down some hay,
but told’ him to lay down his pipe first. Dick denied taking
the pipe with him, but no one believed him. I remembered
our John Manly’s rule, never to allow a pipe in the stable,
and thought it ought to be the rule everywhere.

- James said the roof and floor had all fallen in, and that only
the black walls were standing ; the two poor horses that could
not be got out were buried under the burnt rafters and tiles.




CHAPTER XVII.
JOHN MANLY’S TALK.

-HE rest of our journey was very easy, and a little
after sunset we reached the house of my master’s
friend. We were taken into a clean snug stable;
there was a kind coachman, who made us very
comfortable, and who seemed to think a good deal
of James when he heard about the fire.

“There is one thing quite clear, young man,”
he said, “‘your horses know who they can. trust; it is
one of the hardest things in the world to get horses out
of a stable when there is either fire or flood. I don’t know
why they won’t come out, but they won’t—not one in
twenty.” i

We stopped two or three days at this place and then
returned home. All went well on the journey; we were glad
to be in our own stable again, and John was equally glad to
see us.

Before he and James left us for the night, James said, ‘I
wonder who is coming in my place.”

** Little Joe Green at the Lodge,” said John.

“Little Joe Green! why, he’s a child!”

‘* He is fourteen and a half,” said John.

** But he is such a little chap!”

“Yes, he is small, but he is quick, and willing, and kind-
hearted too, and then he wishes very much to come, and his


John Manly’s Talk. 79

father would like it; and I know the master would like to
give him the chance. He said, if I thought he would not
do, he would look out for a bigger boy; but I said I was quite
agreeable to try him for six weeks.”

“Six weeks!” said James, “why, it will be six meains
before he can be of much use! it will make you a deal of work,
John.”

“Well,” said John with a laugh, “ work and I are very good
friends ; I never was afraid of work yet.”

“You area ey, good many said James. ‘I wish I may
ever be like you.”

**T don’t often speak of myself,” said John, ‘“ but as you are
going away from us out into the world, to shift for yourself,
I'll just tell you how I look on these things. I was just as
old as Joseph when my father and mother died of the fever,
within ten days of each other, and left me and my crippled
sister Nelly alone in the world, without a relation that we
could look to for help. I was a farmer’s boy, not earning
enough to keep myself, much less both of us, and she must
have gone to the workhouse, but for our mistress (Nelly calls
her, her angel, and she has good right to do so). She.went
and hired a room for her with old widow Mallet, and she gave
her knitting and needlework, when she was able to do it; and
when she was ill, she sent her dinners and many nice com-
fortable things, and was like a mother to her. Then the -
master, he took me into the stable under old Norman, the
coachman that was then. I had my food at the house, and
my bed in the loft, and a suit of clothes and three shillings
a week, so that I ‘could help Nelly. Then there was
Norman; he might have turned round and said, at his age
he could not be troubled with a raw boy from the plough-tail,
but he was like a father to me, and took no end of pains
with me. When the old man died some years after, I stepped
into his place, and now of course_I have top wages, and can
lay by for a rainy day or a sunny day as it may happen,
and Nelly is as happy as a bird. So you see, James, I am
78 Black Beauty.

not the man that should turn up his nose at a little boy, and
vex a good, kind master. No! no! I shall miss you very
much, James, but we shall pull through, and there’s nothing
like doing a kindness when ’tis put in your way, and I am
glad I can do it.”

“Then,” said James, “you don’t hold with that saying,
‘Everybody look after himself, and take care of number
one?’”

‘No, indeed,” said John, ‘where should I and Nelly have
been, if master and mistress and old Norman had only taken
care of number one? Why—she in the workhouse and I
hoeing turnips! Where would Black Beauty and Ginger have
been if you had only thought of number one ?—why, roasted to
death! No, Jim, no! that is a selfish, heathenish saying,
whoever uses it, and any man who thinks he has nothing to do
but take care of number one, why, it’s a pity but what he had
been drowned like a puppy or a kitten, before he got his eyes
open, that’s what I think,” said John, with a very decided jerk
of his head.

James laughed at this; but there was a thickness in his
voice when he said, ‘‘ You have been my best friend except my
mother ; I hope you won’t forget me?”

“No, lad, no!” said John. ‘“ And if ever I can do youa
good turn, I hope you won’t forget me? ”

The next day Joe came to the stables to learn all he could
before James left. He learned to sweep the stable, to bring in
the new straw and hay; he began to clean the harness, and
helped to wash the carriage. As he was quite too short to do
anything in the way of grooming Ginger and me, James taught
him upon Merrylegs, for he was to have full charge of him;
under John. He was a nice little bright fellow, and always
came whistling to his work.

Merrylegs was a good deal put out, at being “‘ mauled about,”
as he said, “by a boy who knew nothing ;” but towards the
end of the second week, he told me confidentially that he
thought the boy would turn out well.
John Manlys Talk. ae? 79

At last the day came when James had to leave us; cheerful
as he always was, he looked quite down-hearted that morning.

“You see,” he said to John, “I am leaving a great deal
behind; my mother and Betsy, and you, and a good master
and mistress, and then the horses, and my old Merrylegs. At
the new place there will not be a soul that I shall know. If it
were not that I shall get a higher place, and be able to help
my mother better, I don’t think I should have made up my
mind to it; it is a real pinch, John.”

“* Aye, James, lad, so it is, but I should not think much of
you, if you could leave your home for the first time and not
feel it; cheer up, you’ll make friends there, and if you get on
well—as I am sure you will, it will'be a fine thing for your
mother, and she will be proud enough that you have got into
such a good place as that.”

So John cheered him up, but every one.was sorry to lose
James; as for Merrylegs, he pined after him for several days,
and went quite off his appetite. So John took him out several
mornings with a leading rein, when he exercised me, and
trotting and galloping by my side, got up the little fellow’s
spirits again, and he was soon all right.

Joe’s father would often come in and give a little help, as he
understood the work, and Joe took a great deal of pains to
. learn, and John was quite encouraged about him.


CHAPTER XVIII.
GOING FOR THE DOCTOR.

NE night, a few days after James had left, I had
eaten my hay and was lying down in my straw
fast asleep, when I was suddenly awoke by the
stable bell ringing very loud. I heard the door
of John’s house open, and his feet running up
tothe Hall. He was back again in no time; he
unlocked the stable door, and came in, calling
a out, oo up, Beauty, you must go well
now, if ever you did;” and almost before I could think,
he had got the saddie.on my back and the bridle on my
head ; he just ran round for his coat, and then took me at a .
quick trot up to the Hall door. The Squire stood there with
a lamp in his hand.

“Now John,” he said “ride for your life, that is, for your
mistress’s life; there is not a moment to lose; give this note
to Doctor White; give your horse a rest at the inn, and be
back again as soon as you can.”

John said, ‘“ Yes, sir,” and was on my back in a minute.
The gardener who lived at the lodge had heard the bell ring,
and was ready with the gate open, and away we went through
the Park, and through the village, and down the hill till we
came to the toll-gate. John called very loud and thumped upon
the door: the man was soon out and flung open the gate.

“Now,” said John, “do you keep the gate open for the
doctor ; here’s the money,” and off we went again.


Going for the Doctor. 81

There was before us a long piece of level road by the °
river side; John said to me, ‘‘ Now, Beauty, do your best,”
and so I did; I wanted no whip nor spur, and for two miles
I galloped as fast as I could lay my feet to the ground; I
don’t believe that my old grandfather who won the race.at New-
market could have gone faster. When we came to the bridge,
John pulled me up a little and patted my neck. ‘‘ Well done,
Beauty! good old fellow,” he said. He would have let me go
slower, but my spirit was up, and I was off again as fast as
before. The air was frosty, the moon was bright, it was very
pleasant; we came through a village, then through a dark ©
wood, then uphill, then downhill, till after an eight miles’ run
we came to the town, through the streets and into the Market
Place. It was all quite still except the clatter of my feet on
the stones—everybody was asleep. The church clock struck
three as we drew up at Doctor White’s door. John rang the
bell twice, and then knocked at the door like thunder. A
window was thrown up, and Doctor White, in his nightcap,
put his head out and said, “‘ What do you want?”

“Mrs. Gordon is very ill, sir ; master wants you to go at once,
he thinks she will die if you cannot get there—here is a note.”

“Wait,” he said, ‘‘ I will come.”

He shut the window and was soon at the door.

“The worst of it is,” he said, ‘that my horse has been out
all day and is quite done up; my son has just been sent for,
and he has taken the other. What is to be done? Can I
have your horse ?” .

“He has come at a gallop nearly all the way, sir, and I was
to give him a rest here; but I think my master would not be *
against it if you think fit, sir.”

“ Allright,” he said, ‘‘I will soon be ready. 2

John stood by me and stroked my neck, I was very hot.
The doctor came out with his riding whip.

“You need not take that, sir,” said John, ‘‘ Black Beauty
will go till he drops; take care of him, sir, if you can; I
should not like any harm to come to him.”

G


““NOW, JOHN, RIDE FOR YOUR LIFE ~
Going for the Doctor. 83

“No! no! John,” said the Doctor, “I hope not,” and in a
minute we had left John far behind.

I will not tell about our way back; the Doctor was a
heavier man than John, and not so good a rider; however, I
did my very best. The man at the toll-gate had it open.
When we came to the hill, the Doctor drew me up. |“ Now,
my good fellow,” he said, “‘ take some breath.” I was glad
he did, for I was nearly spent, but that breathing helped me



‘©THE AIR WAS FROSTY, THE MOON WAS BRIGHT.”

on, and soon we were in the Park. Joe was at the lodge gate,
my master was at the Hall door, for he had heard us coming.
He spoke not a word; the doctor went into the house with
him, and Joe led me to the stable. I was glad to get home,
-my legs shook under me, and I could only stand and pant.
I had not a dry hair on my body, the water ran down my
legs, and I steamed all over—Joe used to say, like a pot on
the fire. Poor Joe! he was young and small, and as yet he
G2 :
84 Black Beauty.

knew very little, and his father, who would have helped him,
had been sent to the next village; but I am sure he did the
very best he knew. He rubbed my legs and my chest, but
he did not put my warm cloth on me; he thought I was so:
hot I should not like it. Then he gave me a pail full of water
to drink ; it was cold and very good, and I drank it all; then.
he gave me some hay and some corn, and thinking he had
done right, he went away. Soon I began to shake and
tremble, and turned deadly cold, my legs ached, my loins
ached, and my chest ached, and I felt sore all over. Oh!
how I wished for my warm thick cloth as I stood and
trembled. I wished for John, but he had eight miles to walk,
so I lay down in my straw and tried to go to sleep. After a
long while I heard: John at the door; I gave a low moan, for I
was in great pain. He was at my side in a moment, stooping
down by me; I could not tell him how I felt; but he seemed
to know it all; he covered me up with two or three warm
cloths, and then ran to the house for some hot water; he
made me some warm gruel which I drank, and then I think
I went to sleep.

John seemed to be very much put out. I heard him say to
' himself, over and over again, “Stupid boy! stupid boy! no
cloth put on, and I dare say the water was cold too ; boys are
no good,” but Joe was a good boy after all.

I was now very ill; a strong inflammation had attacked my
lungs, and I could not draw my breath without pain. John
nursed me night and day; he would get up two or three times
in the night to come to me; my master, too, often came to
see me. “My poor Beauty,” he said one day, “my good
horse, you saved your mistress’s life, Beauty! yes, you saved
her life.” I was very glad to hear that, for it seems the doctor
had said if we had been a little longer it would have been too
late. John told my master he never saw a horse go so fast in
his life, it seemed'as if the horse knew what was the matter.
Of course I did, though John thought not ; at least I knew as
much as this, that John and I must goat the top of our speed,
and that it was for the sake of the mistress.


ONLY IGNORANCE.






o DO not know how long I
Pe was ill. Mr. Bond, the
horse-doctor, came every.
day. One day he bled me;
John held a pail for the
blood; I felt very faint
after it, and thought I
should die, and I believe
they all thought so too.
Ginger and Merrylegs had been
moved into the other stable, so
that I might be quiet, for the
fever made me very quick of
hearing; any little noise seemed
quite loud, and I could tell everyone’s footstep going to and
from the house. I knew all that was going on. One night
John had to give me a draught ; Thomas Green came in to help
him. After I had taken it, and John had made me as com-
fortable as he could, he said he should stay half-an-hour
to see how the medicine settled. Thomas said he would
stay with him, so they went and sat down on a bench that
had been brought into Merryleg’s stall, and put down the
86 Black Beauty, | ,

lantern at their feet, that I might not be disturbed with the
light.

For a while both men sat silent, and then Tom Green said
in a low voice,—



*SONLY IGNORANCE, ONLY IGNORANCE !”

“T wish, John, you’d say a bit of a kind word to Joe; the
boy is quite heart-broken, he can’t eat his meals, and he can’t
smile. He says he knows it was all his fault, though he is
Only Ignorance. 87

sure he did the best he knew, and he says, if Beauty dies, no
one will ever speak to him again. It goes to my heart to hear
him; I think you might give him just a . word, he is not a bad
boy.”

After a short pause, John said slowly, ‘‘ You must not be
too hard upon me, Tom. I know he meant no harm, I never
said he did ; I know he is not a bad boy, but you see I am
sore myself; that horse is the pride of my heart, to say nothing
of his being such a favourite with the master and mistress;
and to think that his life may be flung away in this manner, is
more than I can bear ; but if you think I am hard on the boy,
I will try to give him a good word to-morrow—that is, I an
if Beauty is better.”

“Well, John! thank you, I knew you did- not wish to be
too hard, and I am glad you see it was only ignorance.”

John’s voice almost startled me as he answered, ‘“ Only
ignorance! only ignorance! how can you talk about only
ignorance ? Don’t you know that it is the worst thing in the
world, next to wickedness ?—and which does the mischief
heaven only knows. If people can say, ‘Oh! I did not know,
I did not mean any harm,’ they think it is all right. I suppose
Martha Mulwash did not mean to kill that baby, when she
dosed it with Dalby and soothing syrups; but she did kill it,
and was tried for manslaughter.”

‘* And serve her right, too,” said Tom. ‘A woman should
not undertake to nurse a tender little child without knowing
what is good and what is bad for it.”

“ Bill Starkey,” continued John, “did not mean to frighten
his brother into fits, when he dressed up like a ghost, and ran
after him in the moonlight ; but he did; and that bright, hand-

‘some little fellow, that might have been the pride of any
mother’s heart, is just no better than an idiot, and never.will be,
if he live to be eighty years old. You were a good deal cut up
yourself, Tom, two weeks ago when those young ladies left
your hothouse door open, with a frosty east wind blowing right
in; you said it killed a good many of your plants.”
88 Black Beauty.

“A good many!” said Tom, “ there was not one of the
tender cuttings that was not nipped off; I shall have to strike
all over again, and the worst of it is, that I don’t know where
to go to get fresh ones. I was nearly mad when I came in and
saw what was done.”

“And yet,” said John, “I am sure the young ladies did not
mean it; it was only ignorance!”

I heard no more of this conversation, for the medicine did
well and sent me to sleep, and in the morning I felt much
better : but I often thought of John’s words when I came to
know more of the world.




CHAPTER XxX.

JOE GREEN.

OE GREEN went on very well; he learned
quickly, and was so attentive and careful,
that John began to trust him in many things ;
but, as I have said, he was small of his age,
and it was seldom that he was allowed to
exercise either Ginger or me; but it so
happened one morning that John was out
with “‘ Justice,” in the luggage cart, and the
master wanted a note to be taken imme-
diately to a gentleman’s house, about three
miles distant, and sent his orders for Joe to
saddle me and take it; adding the caution
that he was to*ride steadily.

The note was delivered, and we were quietly returning till
we came to the brickfield. Here we saw a cart heavily laden
with bricks ; the wheels had stuck fast in the stiff mud of some
deep ruts ; and the carter was shouting and flogging the two
horses unmercifully. Joe pulled up. It was a sad sight.
There were the two horses. straining and struggling with all
their might to drag the cart out, but they could not move it;
the sweat streamed from their legs and flanks, their sides
heaved, and every muscle was strained ; whilst the man, fiercely
pulling at the head of the fore-horse, swore and lashed most
brutally.

“Hold hard,” said Joe, ‘‘don’t go on flogging the horses




“THERE IS A FELLOW FLOGGING TWO HORSES TO DEATH.”
Joe Green. gi

like that ; the wheels are so stuck that they cannot move the
cart.’’ The man took no heed, but went on lashing.

“Stop! pray stop,” said Joe; “I'll help you to lighten the
cart, they can’t move it now.”

‘“‘ Mind your own business, you impudent young rascal, and
I'll mind mine.” The man was in a towering passion, and the
worse for drink, and laid on the whip again. Joe turned my
head, and the next moment we were going at a round gallop
towards the house of the master brickmaker. I cannot say if
John would have ‘approved of our pace, but Joe and I were
both of one mind, and so angry, that we could not have gone
slower.

The house stood by the roadside. Joe knocked at the door
and shouted, ‘‘ Hulloa! is Mr. Clay athome?” The door was .
opened, and Mr. Clay himself came out.

“ Hulloa! young man! you seem in a hurry; any orders
from the Squire this morning?”

“No, Mr. Clay, but there’s a fellow in your brickyard flogging
two horses to death. I told him to stop, and he wouldn’t; I
said I’d help him to lighten the cart, and he wouldn’t; so I
have come to tell you; pray, sir, go.” Joe’s voice shook with
excitement.

“Thank ye, my lad,” said the man, running in for his hat ;
then pausing for a moment—‘“‘ Will you give evidence of what
you saw if I should bring the fellow up before a magistrate ?”

“That I will,” said Joe, ‘and glad too.” The man was
gone, and we were on our way home at a smart trot.

“Why, what’s the matter with you, Joe? you look angry
all over,” said John, as the boy flung himself from the saddle.

“T am angry all over, I can tell you,” said the boy, and then
in hurried, excited words he told all that had happened. Joe
was usually such a quiet, gentle little fellow that it was
wonderful to see him so roused.

“Right, Joe! you did right, my boy, whether the fellow gets
a summons or not. Many folks would have ridden by and
said ’twas not their business to interfere. Now I say, that
92 Black Beauty.

with cruelty and oppression it is everybody’s business to inter-
fere when they see it ; you did right, my boy.”

Joe was quite calm by this time, and proud that John
approved of him, and he cleaned out my feet, and rubbed me
down with a firmer hand than usual.

They were just going home to dinner when the footman
came down to the stable to say that Joe was wanted directly in
master’s private room; there was a man brought up for ill-
using horses, and Joe’s evidence was wanted. The boy
flushed up to his forehead, and his eyes sparkled. ‘‘ They
shall have it,” said he.

“ Put yourseif a bit straight,” said John. Joe gave a pull at
his necktie and a twitch at his jacket, and was off in a moment.
Our master being one of the county magistrates, cases were
often brought to him to settle, or say what should be done. In
the stable we heard no more for some time, as it was the men’s
‘dinner hour, but when Joe came next into the stable I saw he
was in high spirits; he gave me a good-natured slap and said,
“We won’t see such things done, will we, old fellow?” We
heard afterwards that he had given his evidence so clearly, and
the horses were in such an exhausted state, bearing marks of
such brutal usage, that the carter was committed to take his
trial, and might possibly be sentenced to two or three months
in prison.

It was wonderful what a change had come over ‘Joe. John
laughed, and said he had grown an inch taller in that week,
and I believe he had. He was just as kind and gentle as
before, but there was more purpose and determination in
all that he did—as if he had jumped at once from a boy into ,
a man.




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“THE BREAKING UP

CHAPTER XXI,
THE PARTING.

_ HAD now lived in this happy place three years,
but sad changes were about to come over us.
We heard from time totime that our mistress
was ill. The doctor was often at the house,
and the master looked grave and anxious.
Then we heard that she must leave her
home at once, and go to a warm country for
two or three years. The news fell upon the
household like the tolling of a death-bell. |
Everybody was sorry; but the master began directly to
make arrangements for breaking up his. establishment and
leaving England. We used to hear it talked about in our
stable ; indeed, nothing else was talked about.


94 Black Beauty.

John went about his work silent and sad, and. Joe scarcely -
whistled. There was a great deal of coming and going; Ginger
and I had full work. o

The first of the party who went were Miss Jessie and Flora



“THE FIRST OF THE PARTY WHO WENT WERE MISS JESSIE AND FLORA.”

with their governess. They came to bid us good-bye. They
hugged poor Merrylegs like an old friend, and so indeed he
was. Then we heard what had been arranged for us. Master
had sold Ginger and me to his old friend, the Earl of -
for he thought we should have a good place there. Merry-


The Parting. 95

legs he had given to the Vicar, who was wanting a pony for
Mrs. Blomefield, but it was on the condition that he should
‘never be sold, and when he was past work that he should be
shot and buried.

Joe was engaged to take care of him, and to help in the
house, so I thought that Merrylegs was well off. John had the
offer of several good places, but he said he should wait a little
and look round.



‘THEY CAME TO BID US GOOD-BYE.”

. The evening before they left, the master came into the
stable to give some directions, and to give his horses the last
pat. He seemed very low-spirited; I knew that by his
“voice. I believe we horses can tell more by the voice than
many men can.
“‘ Have you decided what to do, John?” he said.. “I find ©
you have not accepted either of those offers.”
96 | Black Beauty.

“No, sir, I have made up my mind that if I could geta
situation with some first-rate colt-breaker and horse-trainer,
it would be the right thing for me. Many young animals ,
are frightened and spoiled by wrong treatment which need not
be, if the right man took them in hand. I always get on well
with horses, and if I could help some of them to a fair start, I
should feel as if I was doing some good. What do you think
of it, sir?”

“JT don’t know a man anywhere,” said master, “that I
should think so suitable for it as yourself. You understand



*°
horses, and somehow they understand you, and in time you
might set up for yourself; I think you could not do better.
If in any way I can help you, write to me; I shall speak
to my agent in London, and leave your character with him.”
Master gave John the name and address; and then he
thanked him for his long and faithful service; but that was
too much for John. ‘Pray don’t, sir, I can’t bear it; you
and my dear mistress have done so much for me that I
could never repay it; but we shall never forget you, sir,
and please God we may some day see mistress back again
The Parting. 97

like herself; we must keep up hope, sir.” Master gave
John his hand, but he did not speak, and they both left the
stable.

The last sad day had come; the footman and the heavy
luggage had gone off the day before, and there were only
master and mistress and her maid. Ginger and I brought
the carriage up to the Hall door for the last time. The
servants brought out cushions and rugs and many other
things, and when all were arranged, master came down
the steps, carrying the mistress, in his arms (I was on the
side next the house, and could see all that went on) ;_ he placed
her carefully in the carriage, while the house servants stood
round crying. .

“Good-bye, again,” he said, ‘‘we shall not forget any of
you;” and he got in. ‘Drive on, John.”

Joe jumped up, and we trotted slowly through the Park,
and through the village,. where the people were standing at
their doors to have a last look and to say, “‘ God bless
them.”

When we reached the railway station, I think mistress
walked from the carriage to the waiting-room. I heard her
say in her own sweet voice, ‘“‘ Good-bye, John, God bless
you.” I felt the rein twitch, but John .made no answer;
perhaps he could not speak. As soon as Joe had taken the
things out of the carriage, John called him to stand by the
horses, while he went on the platform. Poor Joe! he stood
close up to our heads to hide his tears. Very soon the train
came puffing up into the station ; then two or three minutes, and
the doors were slammed to; the guard whistled and the train
glided away, leaving behind it only clouds of white smoke, and
some very heavy hearts. .

When it was quite out of sight, John came back—

**We shall. never see her again,” he said; ‘“‘never.” He
took the reins, mounted the box, and with Joe drove slowly
home; but it was not our home now.








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°*RARLSHALL.”

gateway, and John asked for Mr. York.

before he came.

EARLSHALL.

CHAPTER XXII.

breakfast, Joeput Merry-
legs into the mistress’s
low chaise to take him
tothe Vicarage ; he came
first and said good-bye
to us, and Merrylegs
neighed to us from the
yard. Then John put
the saddle on Ginger
and the leading-rein on
me, and rode us across
the country about fifteen
miles to Earlshall Park,
where the Earl of
W lived. There
was a very fine house,
and a great deal of
stabling; we went into
the yard through a stone



It was some time

He was a fine-looking, middle-aged man, and

his voice said at once that he expected to be obeyed. He was
Earlshalt, 99.

very friendly and polite to John, and after giving us a slight
look, he called a groom to take us to our boxes, and. invited
John to take some refreshment.

We were taken to a light airy stable, and placed in boxes

adjoining each other, where we were rubbed down and fed.
In about half an hour John and Mr. York, who was to be our
new coachman, came in to see us.
’ “ Now, Mr. Manly,” he said,. after carefully looking at us
both, ‘‘I can.see no fault in these horses, but we all know
that horses have their peculiarities as well as men, and that
sometimes they need different treatment; I should like’ to
know if there is anything particular in either of these, that you
would like to mention.”

“Well,” said John, “I don’t believe there is a better pair of
horses in the country, and right grieved I am to part with
them, but they are not alike. The black one is the most
perfect temper I ever knew; I suppose he has never known a
hard word or a blow since he was foaled, and all his pleasure
seems to be to do what you wish; but the chestnut I fancy
must have had bad treatment; we heard as much from the
dealer. She came to us snappish and suspicious, but when
she found what sort of a place ours was, it all went off by
degrees ; for three years I have never seen the smallest sign of
temper, and if she is well treated there is not a better, more
willing animal than she is; but she is naturally a more irritable
constitution than the black horse; flies tease her more; any-
thing wrong in the harness frets her more; and if she were
ill-used or unfairly treateds he would not be-unlikely to give
tit for tat; you know that many high-mettled horses will
do so.”

“* Of course,” said York, ‘‘ I quite understand, but you know
it is not easy in stables like these to have all the grooms just
what they should be; I do my best, and there I must leave
it. I'll remember what you have said about the mare.”

They were going out of the stable, when John stopped and
said, ‘I had better mention that we have never used the

H2'
100 Black Beauty.

bearing-rein with either of them; the black horse never had
one on, and thé dealer said it was the gag-bit that spoiled the
other’s temper.”

“Well,” said York, ‘if they come here, they must wear
the bearing-rein. I prefer a loose rein myself, and his lord-
ship is always very reasonable about horses; but my lady—
that’s another thing, she will have style; and if her carriage
horses are not reined up tight, she wouldn’t look at them. I
always stand out against the gag-bit, and shall do so, but it
must be tight up when my lady rides!”

“IT am very®sorry for it, very sorry,” said John; “but I
must go now, or I shall lose the train.”

He came round to each of us to pat and speak to us 3 for the
last time ; his voice sounded very sad.

I held my face close to him, that was all I could do to say
good-bye ; and then he was gone, and I have never seen him
since.

The next day Lord W came to look at us; he seemed
very pleased with our appearance. .

“J have great confidence in these horses,” he said, “from
the character my friend Mr. Gordon has given me of them.
Of course they are not a match in colour, but my idea is,
that they will do very well for the carriage whilst we are in the
country. Before we go to London I must try to match Baron;
the black horse, I believe is perfect for riding.”

York then told him what John had said about us.

“Well,” said he, “you must keep an eye to the mare, and
put the bearing-rein easy; I dare say they will do very
well with a little ee at first. I’ll mention it to your
lady.”

In the afternocn we were harnessed and put.in the carriage,
and as the stable clock struck three we were led round to the
front of the house. It was all very grand, and three or four
times as large as the old house at Birtwick, but not half so
pleasant, if a horse may have an opinion. Two footmen were
standing ready, dressed in drab livery, with scarlet breeches


Earlshalt. . IOI

and white stockings. Presently we heard the rustling sound
of silk as my lady came down the flight of stone steps. She
stepped round to look at us; she was a tall, proud-looking
woman, and did not seem pleased about something, but she
said nothing, and got into the carriage. This was the first
time of wearing the bearing-rein, and I must say, though it
certainly was a nuisance not to be able to get my head down
now and then, it did not pull my head higher than I was
accustomed to carry it. I felt anxious about Ginger, but she
seemed to be quiet and content.

The next day at three o’clock we were again at the door,
and the footmen as before; we heard the silk dress rustle, and
the lady came down the steps, and in an imperious voice she
said, “‘ York, you must put those horses’ heads higher, they
are not fit to be seen.”

York got down, and said very respectfully, “I beg your
pardon, my lady, but these horses have not been reined up
for three years, and my lord said it would be safer to bring
them to it by degrees ; but if your ladyship pleases, I can take
them up a little more.”

“Do so,” she said.

York came round to our heads, and shortened the rein him-
self, one hole, I think; every little makes a difference, be it for
better or worse, and that day we had a steep hill to go up.
Then I began to understand what I had heard of. Of course
I wanted to put my head forward and take the carriage up
with a will, as we had been used to do; but no, I had to pull
with my head up now, and that took all the spirit out of me,
and the strain came on my back and legs. . When we came in,
Ginger said, ‘“‘ Now you see what it is like, but this is not
bad, and if it does not get much worse than this, I shall say
‘nothing about it, fer we are very well treated here; but if they
strain me up tight, why, let ’em look out! I can’t bear it, and
I won't.” ‘

Day by day, hole by hole our bearing-reins were shortened,
and instead of looking forward with pleasure to having my
102 Black Beauty.

harness put on, as I used to do, I began to dread it. Ginger
too seemed restless, though she said very little. At last I
thought the worst was over; for several days there was no
more shortening, and I determined to make the best of it and
do my duty, though it was now a constant harass instead of a
pleasure ; but the worst was not come.




CHAPTER XXIII.

A STRIKE FOR LIBERTY.

Wy NE day my lady came down later than usual,
4 and.the silk rustled more than ever.

“Drive to the Duchess of B ’s,” she
said, and then after a pause—‘‘ Are you never
going to get those horses’ heads up, York?
Raise them at once, and let us have no more





of this humouring and nonsense.”

York came to me first, whilst the groom stood at Ginger’s
head. He drew my head back, and fixed the rein so tight that -
it was almost intolerable; then he went to Ginger, who was
impatiently jerking her head up and down against the bit, as
was her way now. She had a good idea of what was coming,
and the moment York took the rein off the terret in order to
shorten it, she took her opportunity, and reared up so
suddenly, that York had his nose roughly hit, and his hat
knocked off; the groom was nearly thrown off his legs. At
once they both flew.to her head, but she was a match for
them, and went on plunging, rearing, and kicking in a most
desperate manner ; at last she kicked right over the carriage
pole and fell down, after giving me a severe blow on my near
quarter. There is no knowing what further mischief she
might have done, had not York promptly sat himself down
flat on her head, to prevent her struggling, at the same time
104 Black Beauty.

calling out, ‘‘ Unbuckle the black horse! run for the winch,
and unscrew the carriage pole; cut the trace here, somebody,
if you can’t unhitch it.” One ofthe footmen ran for the winch,
and another brought a knife from the house. The groom
soon set me free from Ginger and the carriage, and led me
to my box. He just turned me in as I was, and ran back to
York. Iwas much excited by what had happened, and if I
had ever been used to kick cr rear, I am sure I should have
done it then; but I never had, and there I stood angry, sore
- in my leg, my head still strained up to the terret on the saddle,
and no power to get it down. I was very miserable, and
felt much inclined to. kick the first person who came near
me.
Before long, however, Ginger was led in by two grooms, a
good deal knocked about and bruised. York came with her,
and ‘gave his orders, and then came to look at me. In a
moment he let down my head.

“‘Confound these bearing-reins!” he said to himself; ‘I
thought we should have some mischief soon—master will be
sorely vexed; but there—if a woman’s. husband can’t rule
her, of course a servant can’t; so I wash my hands of
it; and if she can’t get to the Duchess’ cate party, I can’t
help it.”

York did not say this before the men; he always spoke
respectfully when they were by. Now, he felt. me all over,
and soon found the place above my hock where I had been
kicked. It was swelled and painful; he ordered it to. be
sponged with hot water, and then some lotion was put on.

Lord W: was much put out when he learned what had
happened; he blamed York for giving way to his mistress, to
which he replied, that in future he would much prefer to
receive his orders only from his lordship; but I think nothing
came of it, for things went on the same as before. I thought
York might have stood up better for his horses, but perhaps
I am no judge.

Ginger was never put into the carriage again, but when she


A Strike for Liberty. 105

was well of her bruises, one of Lord W *s younger sons
said he would like to have her; he was sure she would make
a good hunter. As for me, I was obliged still to go in the
carriage, and hada fresh partner called Max; he had always
been used to the tight rein. I asked him how it was he
bore it.

“Well,” he said, ‘‘I bear it because I must; but it is
shortening my life, and it will shorten yours too, if you have
to stick to it.”

“Do you think,” I said, “‘ that our masters know how bad
it is for us?”

“T can’t say,” he replied, ‘but the dealers and the horse-
doctors know it very well. I was at a dealer’s once, who was
training me and another horse to go as a pair; he was getting
our heads up, as he said, a little higher and a little higher
every day. A gentleman who was there asked him why he
did so ; ‘ Because,’ said he, ‘ people won’t buy them unless we
do. The London people always want their horses to carry
_ their heads high, and to step high ; of course it is very bad for
the horses, but then it is good for trade. The horses soon
wear up, or get diseased, and they come for another pair.’
That,” said Max, ‘‘ is what he said in my hearing, and you can
judge for yourself.”

- What I suffered with that rein for four long months in my
lady’s carriage, it would be hard to describe; but I am quite
‘sure that, had it lasted much longer, either my health or my
temper would have given way. Before that, I never knew
what it was to foam at the mouth, but now the action of the
sharp bit on my tongue and jaw, and the constrained position
of my head and throat, always caused me to froth at the
mouth more or less, Some people think it very fine to see
this, and say, ‘‘ What fine, spirited creatures!” But it is just
as unnatural for horses as for men, to foam at the mouth: it is
a sure sign of some discomfort, and should be attended to.
Besides this, there was a pressure on my windpipe, which
often. made my breathing very uncomfortable; when I returned


106 Black Beauty.

from my work, my neck and chest were strained and painful,
my mouth and tongue tender, and I felt worn and depressed.

In my old home, I always knew that John and my master
were my friends; but here, although in many ways I was well
treated, I had no friend. York might have known, and very
likely did know, how that rein harassed me; but I suppose he
took it as a matter of course that could not be helped ; at any
rate, nothing was done to relieve me.






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i



CHAPTER XXIV.

THE LADY ANNE, OR A RUNAWAY HORSE



ARLY in the spring, Lord W- ‘and part of

his family went up to London, and took
York with them. I and Ginger and some
. other horses were left at home for use, and
the head groom was left in charge.

The Lady Harriet, who remained at the
Hall, was a great invalid, and never went
out in the carriage, and the Lady Anne
preferred riding on horseback with her

brother or cousins. She was a perfect horsewoman, and as
_ gay and gentle as she was beautiful. She chose me for her.
horse, and named me “ Black Auster.” I enjoyed these rides
very much in the clear cold air, sometimes with Ginger, some-
times with Lizzie. This Lizzie was a bright bay mare, almost
thorough-bred, and a great favourite with the gentlemen, ‘on
account of her fine action and lively spirit; but Ginger, who
knew more of her than I did, told me she was rather nervous.

There was a gentleman of the name of Blantyre staying at
the Hall; he always rode Lizzie, and praised her so much,
that one day Lady Anne ordered the side-saddle to be put on
her, and the other saddle on me. When we came to the door
the gentleman seemed very uneasy. »

“How is this?” he said; ‘are you tired of your good
Black Auster ? ”

,


2

N

EWOMA

ECT HORS

SHE WAS A PERF.

sc
Lhe Lady Anne, ‘109

“Oh! no, not at all,”+she replied; “but I am amiable
enough to let you ride him for ‘once, and I will try your
charming Lizzie. You must confess that in size and appear-
ance she is far more like a lady’s horse than my own
favourite.”

“Do let me advise you not to mount her,” he said; ‘she
is a charming creature, but she is too nervous for a lady. I
assure you she is not perfectly safe; let me beg you to have
the saddles changed.”

“My dear cousin,” said Lady Anne, laughing, ‘‘ pray do
not trouble your good careful head about me; I have been
a horsewoman ever since I was a baby, and I have followed
the hounds a great many times, though I know -you do not
approve of ladies hunting; but still that is the fact; and I
intend to try this Lizzie that you gentlemen are so fond of;
so please help me to mount like a good friend as you are.”

There was no more to be said; he placed her carefully
on the saddle, looked to the bit and curb, gave the reins
gently into her hand, and then mounted me. Just-as we
were moving off, a footman came-out with a slip of paper
and message from the Lady Harriet—“ Would they ask this
question for her at Dr. Ashley’s, and bring the answer?” _

The village was about a mile off, and the Doctor’s house
was the last in it, We went along gaily.enough till we
came to his gate. There was a short drive up to, the house
between tall evergreens. Blantyre alighted at the gate, and
was going to open it for Lady Anne, but she said, ‘I will
wait for you here, and you can hang Auster’s rein on the
gate.” .

He looked at her doubtfully—‘ I will not be five minutes,”
he said. .

“Oh, do not hurry yourself; Lizzie and I shall not run
away from you.” =

He hung my rein on one of the iron spikes, and was soon
hidden amongst the trees. Lizzie was standing quietly by.the
side of the road a few paces off with her back to me. My
110 Black Beauty.

young mistress was sitting easily with a loose rein, humming
a little song. I listened to my rider’s footsteps until they
reached the house, and heard him knock at the door. There
was a meadow on the opposite side of the road, the gate of
which stood open; just then some cart-horses and several young
colts came trotting out in a very disorderly manner, whilst a
boy behind was cracking a great whip. The colts were wild
and frolicsome, and one of them bolted across the road, and
blundered up against Lizzie’s hind legs; and whether it was
the stupid colt, or the loud cracking of the whip, or both
together, I cannot say, but she gave a violent kick, and dashed
off into a headlong gallop. It was so sudden that Lady Anne
was nearly unseated, but she soon recovered herself. I gave
a loud shrill neigh for help: again and again I neighed,
pawing the ground impatiently, and tossing my head to get
the rein loose. I had not’long to wait. Blantyre came run-
ning to the gate; he looked anxiously about, and just caught
sight of the flying figure, now far away on the road. In an
instant he sprang to the saddle. I needed no whip or spur,
for I was as eager as my rider; he sawit, and giving me a free
rein, and leaning a little forward, we dashed after them.

For about a mile and a half the road ran straight, and then
bent to the right, after which it divided into two roads. Long
before we came to the bend she was out of sight. Which way
had she turned? A woman was standing at her garden gate,
‘shading her eyes with her hand, and looking eagerly up the
road. Scarcely drawing the rein, Blantyre shouted, ‘‘ Which
way?” “To the right,” cried the woman, pointing with her
hand, and away we went up the right-hand road; then for a
moment we caught sight of her; another bend and she was
hidden again. Several times we caught glimpses, and then
lost them. We scarcely seemed to gain ground upon them
at all, An old road-mender was standing near a heap of
stones—his shovel dropped and his hands raised. As we came
near he made a sign to speak. Blantyre drew the rein a little.
‘To the common, to the common, sir; she has turned off
The Lady Anne. III

there.” I knew this common very well; it was for the most
part very uneven ground, covered with heather and dark green
furze-bushes, with here and there a scrubby old thorn-tree ;
there were also open spaces, of fine short grass, with ant-hills
and mole-turns everywhere ; the worst place I ever knew for a
headlong gallop.

We had hardly turned on the common, when we caught
sight again of the green habit flying on beforeus. My lady’s hat
was gone, and her long brown hair was streaming behind her.
Her head and body were thrown back, as if she were pulling
with all her remaining strength, and as if that strength were
nearly exhausted. It was clear that the roughness of the
ground had very much lessened Lizzie’s speed, and there
seemed a chance that we might overtake her.

Whilst we were on the high road, Blantyre had given me my
head; but now with a light hand and. a practised eye he
guided me over the ground in such a masterly manner, that
my space was scarcely slackened, and we were decidedly gain-
ing on them.

About half way across the heath there had been. a wide
dyke recently cut, and the earth from the cutting was cast up
roughly on the other side. Surely this would stop them! but
no; with scarcely a pause Lizzie took the leap, stumbled
among the rough clods, and fell. Blantyre groaned, “‘ Now
Auster, do your best!” He gave me a steady rein, I
gathered myself well together, and with one determined leap’
cleared both dyke and bank.

Motionless among the heather, with her face to the earth,
lay my poor young mistress. Blantyre kneeled down and
called her name—there was no sound: gently he turned her
face upward; it was ghastly white, and the eyes were closed.
“Annie, dear Annie, do speak!” but there was no answer.
He unbuttoned her habit, loosened her collar, felt her
hands and wrists, then started up and paooked oe round
him for help.

At no great distance there were two men ea turf, who,


“My LADY’S HAT WAS GONE, AND HER LONG BROWN HAIR WAS STREAMING
BEHIND HER.”
The Lady Anne. 113

seeing Lizzie running wild without a rider, had left their work
to catch her.

Blantyre’s halloo soon brought them to the spot. The fore-
most man seemed much troubled at the sight, and asked what
he could do.

“Can you ride?”

““ Well, sir, I bean’t much of a horseman, but I’d risk my
neck for the Lady Anne; she was uncommon good to my wife
in the winter.”

“Then mount this fone: my friend; your neck will be quite
safe, and ‘ride to the Doctor’s, and ask him to come instantly ;
then on to the Hall—tell them all that you know, and bid them
send me the carriage with ne Anne’s maid, and help. I
shall stay here.”

* All right, sir, I’ll do my best, and I pray God the dear
young lady may open her eyes soon.” Then seeing the
other man, he called out, “Here, Joe, run for some water,
and tell my missis to come as quick as she can to the ao)
Anne.”

He poe caneioe eceavabied ‘into the saddle, and with a
“Gee up”? and a clap on my sides with both his legs, he
started on his journey, making: a little circuit to avoid the
dyke. He had no whip, which seemed to trouble him, but
my pace soon cured that difficulty, and he found the best thing
he could do was to stick to the saddle, and hold me in, which
he did manfully. I shook him as little as I could help, but once
or twice on the rough ground he called out, ‘‘ Steady! woah!
steady.” On the high-road we were all right; and at the
Doctor’s, and the Hall, he did his errand like a good man and
true. They asked him in to take a drop of something. ‘No!
no,” he said; “ I’ll be back to em again bya short cut through
the fields, and be there afore the carriage.”

There was a great deal of hurry and excitement after the
news became known. I was just turned into my box, the
saddle and bridle were taken off, and a cloth thrown over

me.
114 Black Beauty.

Ginger was saddled and sent off in great haste for Lord
George, and I soon heard the carriage roll out of the yard.

_ It seemed a long time before Ginger came back, and before
we were left alone; and then she told me all that she had
seen.

“T can’t tell much,” she said; ‘we went a gallop nearly
all the way, and got there just as the Doctor rode up. There
was a woman sitting on the ground with the lady’s head in
her lap. The Doctor poured something into her mouth, but
all that I heard was ‘she is not dead.’ Then I was led off by
‘a man to alittle distance. After awhile she was taken to the
carriage, and we came home together. I heard my master
say to a gentleman who stopped him to inquire, that he
hoped no bones were broken, but that she had not spoken
yet.” /

When Lord George took Ginger for hunting, York shook
his head; he said it ought to be a steady hand to train a
horse for the first season, and not a random rider like Lord
George.

Ginger used to like it very much, but sometimes when she
came back, I could see that she had been very much strained,
and now and then she gave a short cough. She had too much
_ spirit to complain, but I could not help feeling anxious about
her.

Two days after the accident, Blantyre paid me a visit; he
patted me and praised me very much, he told Lord George
that he was sure the horse knew of Annie’s danger as well
as he did. ‘I could not have held him in, if I would,”
said he; ‘“‘she ought never to ride any other horse.” I
found by their conversation, that my young mistress was
now out of danger, and would soon be able to ride again.
This was good news to me, and I looked forward to a happy
life.


- CHAPTER XXV.
REUBEN SMITH.

MUST now say a little about Reuben Smith,
who was left in charge of the stables when
York went to London. No one more
thoroughly understood his business than he
did, and when he was all right there could
not be a more faithful or valuable man. He
was gentle and very clever in his manage-
ment of horses, and could doctor them almost
as well as a farrier, for he had lived two years
with a veterinary surgeon. He was a first-

rate driver; he could take a four-in-hand, or a tandem, as easily

as a pair. He was a handsome man, a good scholar, and
had very pleasant manners. I believe everybody liked
him; certainly the horses did; the only wonder was,
that he should be in an under situation, and not in the place
of a head coachman like York: but he had one great fault,
and that was the love of drink. He was not like some men,
always at it; he used to keep steady for weeks or months
together; and then he would break out and have a “ bout ” of
it, as York called it, and be a disgrace to himself, a terror to
his wife, and a nuisance to all that had to do with him. He
was, however, so useful, that two or three times York had
hushed the matter up, and kept it from the Earl’s knowledge ;
but one night, when Reuben had to drive a party home from
I 2


116 Black Beauty.

a ball, he was so drunk that he could not hold the reins, and a
gentleman of the party had to mount the box and drive the
ladies home. Of course this could not be hidden, and Reuben
was at once dismissed ; his poor wife and little children had
to turn out of the pretty cottage by the Park gate and go
where they could. Old Max told me all this, for it happened
a good while ago; but shortly before Ginger and I came,
Smith had been taken back again. York had interceded for
him with the Earl, who is very kind-hearted, and the man had
promised faithfully that he would never taste another drop
as long as he lived there. He had kept his promise so well
that York thought he might be safely trusted to fill his place
“whilst he was away, and he was so clever and honest, that no
one else seemed so well fitted for it.

It was now early in April, and the family was expected
home some time in May. The light brougham was to be fresh
done up, and as Colonel Blantyre was obliged to return to
his regiment, it was arranged that Smith should drive him to the
town in it, and ride back;. for this purpose, he took the saddle
with him, and I was chosen for the journey. At the station
the Colonel put some money into Smith’s hand and bid him
good-bye, saying, ‘‘ Take care of your young mistress, Reuben,
and don’t let Black Auster be hacked about by any random
young prig that wants to ride him—keep him for the lady.”

We left the carriage at the maker’s, and Smith rode me to
the White Lion, and ordered the ostler to feed me well and
have me ready for him at four o’clock. A nail in one of my
front shoes had started as I came along, but the ostler did not
notice it;till just about four o’clock. Smith did not come
into the yard till five, and then he said he should not leave till
six, as he had met with some old friends. The man then told
him of the nail, and asked if he should have the shoe looked
to.

“No,” said Smith, “that will be all right till we get home."

He spoke in a very loud off-hand way, and I thought it very
unlike him, not to see about the shoe, as he was generally
Reuben S: mith. 119

wonderfully particular about loose nails in our shoes. He did
not come at six, nor seven, nor eight, and it was nearly nine
o’clock before he called for me, and then it was with a loud
rough voice. He seemed in a very bad temper, and abused the
ostler, though I could not tell what for.

The landlord stood at the door and said, ‘‘ Have a care, Mr.
Smith!” but he answered angrily with an oath; and almost
before he was out of the town he began to gallop, frequently
giving me a sharp cut with his whip, though I was going at
full speed. The moon had not yet risen, and it was very dark.
The roads were stony, having been recently mended; going ~

over them at this pace, my shoe became looser, and when we

were near the turnpike gate it came off.

If Smith had been in his right senses, he would have been
sensible of something wrong in my pace; but he was too
madly drunk to notice anything.

Beyond the turnpike was a long piece of road, upon which
fresh stones had just been laid; large sharp stones, over which
no horse could be driven quickly without risk of danger.
Over this road, with one shoe gone, I was forced to gallop at
my utmost speed, my rider meanwhile cutting into me with
his whip, and with wild curses urging me to go still faster.
Of course my shoeless foot suffered dreadfully ; the hoof was
broken and split down to the very quick, and the inside was
terribly cut by the sharpness of the stones.

This could not go on; no horse could keep his footing under
such circumstances, the pain was too great. I stumbled, and
fell with violence on both my knees. Smith was flung off by
my fall, and owing to the speed I was going at, he must have
fallen with great force. I soon recovered my feet and limped
to the side of the road, where it was free from stones. The
moon had just risen above the hedge, and by its:light I could
see Smith lying a few yards beyond me. He did not rise, he
made one slight effort to do so, and then there was a heavy
groan. I could have groaned too, for I was suffering intense
pain both from my foot and knees ; but horses are used to bear
**T UTTERED

NO SOUND, BUT

STOOD THERE



AND LISTENED.”
Reuben Smith. te 119

their pain in silence. I uttered no sound, but I stood there
and listened. One more heavy groan from Smith; but though
he now lay in the full moonlight, I could see no motion. I
could do nothing for him nor myself, but, oh! how I listened
for the sound of horse, or wheels, or footsteps. The road was
not much frequented, and at this time of the night we might
stay for hours before help came to us.. I stood watching and
listening. It was a calm sweet April night; there were no
sounds, but a few low notes of a nightingale, and nothing
moved but the white clouds near the moon, and a brown owl
that flitted over the hedge. It made me think of the summer
nights long ago, when I used to lie beside my mother in the
green pleasant meadow at Farmer Grey’s.



’ “¢OBLIGED TO LEAVE THE PLEASANT HOME.” (.Sze 2. 122.)


CHAPTER XXVI.

HOW IT ENDED.

T must have been nearly midnight, when I heard
at a great distance the sound of a horse’s feet.
Sometimes the sound died away, then it grew
clearer again and nearer. The road to Earlshall
led through plantations that belonged to the °
Earl; the sound came in that direction, and I
hoped it might be some one coming in search of
us. As the sound came-nearer and nearer, I
was almost sure I could distinguish Ginger’s
step; alittle nearer still, and I could tell she was

in the dog-cart. I neighed loudly, and was overjoyed to hear

an answering neigh from Ginger, and men’s voices. They came
slowly over the stones, and'stopped at the dark figure that lay
upon the ground. |

One of the men jumped out, and stooped down over it. “It
is Reuben !” he said, ‘‘ and he does not stir.”

The other man followed and bent over him. ‘ He’s dead,”
he said; ‘feel how cold his hands are.”

They raised him up, but there was no life, and his hair was
soaked with blood. They laid him down again, and came and
looked at me. They soon saw my cut knees.

“Why the horse has been down and thrown him! Who
would have thought the black horse would have done that ?

Nobody thought he could fall. Reuben must have been lying


How wt Ended. 121

here for hours! Odd, too, that the horse has not moved from _
the place.”

Robert then attempted to lead me forward. I made a step,
but almost fell again.

“Hallo! he’s bad in his foot as well as his knees ; look here
—his hoof is cut all.to pieces, he might well come down, poor
fellow! I tell you what, Ned, I’m afraid it hasn’t been all right
with Reuben! Just think cf him riding a horse over these
stones without a shoe! Why, if he had been in his right senses,
he would just as soon have tried to ride him over the moon.
I’m afraid it has been the old thing over again. Poor Susan!
she looked awfully pale when she came to my house to ask if
he had not come home. She made believe she was not a bit
anxious, and talked of a lot of things that might have kept him.
But for all that, she begged me to go and meet him—but what
must we do? There’s the horse to get home as well as the
body—and that will be no easy matter.”

Then followed a conversation between them, till it was agreed
that Robert as the groom should lead me, and that Ned must
take the body. It was a hard job to get it into the dog-cart,
for there was no one to hold Ginger; but she knew as well as
I did, what was going on, and stood as still as a stone. I
noticed that, because, if she had a fault, it was that she was
impatient in standing.

Ned started off very slowly with his sad load, and Robert
came and looked at my foot again; then he took his handker-
chief and bound it closely round, and so he led me home. I
shall never forget that night walk; it was more than three
miles. Robert led me on very slowly, and I limped and
hobbled on as well as I could with great pain. I am sure he
was sorry for me, for he often patted and encouraged me,
talking to me in:a pleasant voice.

At last I reached my own box, and had some corn, and after
Robert had wrapped up my knees in wet cloths, he tied up my
foot in a bran poultice to draw out the heat, and cleanse it
before the horse doctor saw it in the morning, and I managed
122 Black Beauty. .

to get myself down on the straw, and slept in spite of the
pain.

The next day, after the farrier had examined my wounds, he
said he hoped the joint was not injured, and if so, I should not
be spoiled for work, but I should never lose the blemish. I
believe they did the best to make a good cure, but it was a
long and painful one; proud flesh, as they called it, came up
in my knees, and was burnt out with caustic, and when at last
it was healed, they put a blistering fluid over the front of both
knees to bring all the hair off: they had some reason for this,
and I suppose it was all right.

As Smith’s death had been so sudden, and no one was there
to see it, there was an inquest held. The landlord and ostler
at the White Lion, with several other people, gave evidence
that he was intoxicated when he started from the inn. The
keeper of the tollgate said he rode at a hard gallop through the
gate; and my shoe was picked up amongst the stones, so
that the case was quite plain to them, and I was cleared of all ©
blame.

Everybody pitied Susan; she was nearly out of her mind;
she kept saying over and over again, ‘Oh! he was so good—
so good! it was all that cursed drink; why will they sell that
cursed drink? Oh Reuben, Reuben!’ So she went on till
after he was buried ; and then, as she had no home or relations,
she, with her six little children, were obliged once more -to
leave the pleasant home by the tall oak trees, and go into that
great gloomy Union House.


CHAPTER XXVII.

RUINED, AND GOING DOWN-HILL.

S soon as my knees were suffi-
ciently healed, I was turned
into a small meadow for a
month or two; no_ other
creature was there, and
though I enjoyed the liberty

~ and the sweet grass, yet I had

been so long used to society that

I felt very lonely. Ginger and I

had become fast friends, and ‘now

I missed her company extremely.

I often neighed when I heard horses’

/ feet passing in the road, but I seldom

got an answer; till one morning the gate was opened, and who

should come in but dear old Ginger. The man slipped off her
~ halter and left her there. With a joyful whinny I trotted up to
her ; we were both glad to meet, but I soon found that it was
not for our pleasure that she was brought to be with me.

Her story would be too long to tell, but the end of it was that

she had been ruined by hard riding, and was now turned off to

see what rest would do.
Lord George was young and would take no warning; he was




pes.
x«
124 Black Beauty.

a hard rider, and would hunt whenever he could get ‘the chance,
quite careless of his horse. Soon after I left the stable there
was a steeplechase, and he determined to ride. Though the
groom told him she was a little strained, and was not fit for
the race, he did not believe it, and, on the day of the race,
urged Ginger to keep up with the foremost riders. With her
high spirit she strained herself to the utmost; she came in
with the first three horses, but her wind was touched, beside
which, he was too heavy for her, and her back was strained ;
“* And so,” she said, ‘‘ here we are—ruined in the prime of our
youth and strength—you by a drunkard, and I by a fool; it is

very hard.” We both felt in ourselves that we were not what °

we had been. _ However, that did not spoil the pleasure we had
in each other’s company; we did not gallop about as we once
did, but we used to feed, and lie down together, and stand for
hours under one of the shady lime trees with our heads close
to each other; and so we passed cur time till the family
returned from town.

One day we saw the Earl come into the meadow, and York
was with him. Seeing who it was, we stood still under our
lime tree, and let them come up to us. They examined us
carefully. The Earl seemed much annoyed.

“There is three hundred pounds flung away for no earthly
use,” said he; ‘‘ but what I care most for is, that these horses
of my old friend, who thought they would find a good home
with me, are ruined. The mare shall have a twelvemonth’s
run, and we shall see what that will do for her; but the black
one, he must be sold: ’tis a great pity, but I could not have
knees like these in my stables.” ,

“No, my lord, of course not,” said York, “but he might get

a place where appearance is not of much consequence, and
still be well treated. I knowa man in Bath, the master of
some livery stables, whe often wants a good horse at a low
figure; I know he looks well after his horses. The inquest
cleared the horse’s character, and your lordship’s recommenda-
tion, or mine, would be sufficient warrant for him.”

,
Ruined, and Going Down-hill. 125

“You had better write to him, York. I should be
more particular about the place than the money he would
fetch.”

After this hes left us.

“They'll soon take you away,” said Ginger, “and I shall
lose the only friend I have, and most likely we shall never see
each other again. ’Tis a hard world!”

About a week after this, Robert came into the field with a
halter, which he slipped over my head and led me away.



There was no leave-taking of Ginger; we neighed to each
‘other as I was led off, and she trotted anxiously along by
the hedge, calling to meas long as she could hear the sound
of my feet.

Through the recommendation a York, I was bought by the
master of the livery stables. I had to go by train, which was
new to me, and required a good deal of courage the first time ;
but as I found the puffing, rushing, whistling, and more than
all, the trembling of the horse-box in which I stood did me
no real harm, I soon took it quietly.
126 Black Beauty. .

When I reached the end of my journey, I found myself in a
tolerably comfortable stable and well attended to. These
stables were not so airy and pleasant as those I had been used
to. The stalls were laid on a slope instead of being level, and
as my head was kept tied to the manger, I was obliged
always to stand on a slope, which was very fatiguing. Men
do not seem to know yet, that horses can do more work if
they can stand comfortably and can turn about ; however, I
was well fed and well cleaned, and, on the whole, I think our
master took as much care of us ashe could. He kept a good
many horses and carriages of different kinds, for hire. Some-
times his own men drove them; at others, the horse and chaise
were let to gentlemen or ladies who drove themselves.



flat
wil rt
ii!




CHAPTER XXVIII.
A JOB HORSE AND HIS DRIVERS.

ITHERTO I had always been driven by people
who at least knew how to drive; but in this
place I was to get my experience of all the

different kinds of bad and ignorant driving to

which we horses are subjected; for I was a

‘‘job horse,” and was let out to all sorts of
bo. people, who wished to hire me; and as I was
good-tempered and gentle, I think I was
oftener let out to the ignorant drivers than some of the
other horses, because I could be depended upon. It would
take a long time to tell of all the different styles in which I
was driven, but I will mention a few of them.

First there were the tight-rein drivers—men who seemed to
think that all depended on holding the reins as hard as they
could, never relaxing the pull on the. horse’s mouth, or giving
him the least liberty of movement. They are always talking
about ‘‘ keeping the horse well in hand,” and “holding a
horse up,” just as if a horse was not made to hold himself
up.

Some poor broken-down horses whose mouths have been
_ made hard and insensible by just such drivers as these, may,
perhaps, find some support in it; but for a horse who can
depend upon his own legs, and who has a tender mcuth,
_ and is easily guided, it is not only tormenting, but it is



stupid.
128 Black Beauty.

Then there are loose-rein drivers, who let the reins lie easily
on our backs, and their own hand rest lazily on their knees.
Of course, such gentlemen have no control over a horse, if
anything happens suddenly. If a horse shies, or starts, or
stumbles, they are nowhere, and cannot help the horse or
themselves, till the mischief is done. .Of course, for myself, I
had no objection to it, as I was not in the habit either of
starting or stumbling, and had only been used to depend on
my driver for guidance and encouragement; still, one likes to
feel the rein a little in going down-hill, and likes to know that
one’s driver is not gone to sleep.

Besides, a slovenly way of driving gets a horse into bad,
and often lazy habits; and when he changes hands, he has
to be whipped out of them with more or less pain and trouble.
Squire Gordon always kept us to our best paces, and our
best manners. He said that spoiling a horse, and letting him
get into bad habits, was just as cruel as spoiling a child, and
both had to suffer for it afterwards.

Besides, these drivers are often careless altogether, and
will attend to anything else more than their horses. I went
out in the phaeton one day with one of them; he had a lady,
and two children behind. He flopped the reins about as we
started, and of course, gave me several unmeaning cuts with
the whip, though I was fairly off. There had been a ‘good
deal of road-mending going on, and even where the stones
were not freshly laid down there were a great many loose
ones about. My driver was laughing and joking with the
lady and the children, and talking about the country to the
right and the left; but he never thought it worth while to
keep an eye on his horse, or to drive on the smoothest parts of
the road ; and so it easily happened that I got a stone in one
of my fore feet.

Now, if Mr. Gordon, or John, or in oe any good driver
had been there, he would have seen that something was
wrong, before I had gone three paces. Or even if it had
been dark, a practised hand would have felt by the rein that
A Job Horse and his Drivers. 129

there was something wrong in the step, and they would have
got down and picked out the stone. But this man went on
laughing and talking, whilst at every step the stone became
more firmly wedged between my shoe and the frog Of my foc %
The stone was sharp on the inside and round on the outs‘de;
which, as every one knows, is the most dangerous kind that a
horse can pick up; at the same time cutting his foot, and
making him most liable to stumble and fall.

Whether the man was partly blind, or only very careless, J
can’t say; but he drove me with that stone in my foot for a
good half-mile before he saw anything. By that time I was
going so lame with the pain, that at last he saw it and called
out, ‘ Well, here’s a go! Why, they have sent us out mae a
lame horse! What a shame!” d

He then chucked the reins and flipped about with the whid,
saying, ‘‘ Now, then, it’s no use playing the old soldier with
me; there’s the journey to go, and it’s no use turning lame
and lazy.”

Just at this time a farmer came riding up on a brown cob;
he lifted his hat and pulled up.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” he said, “but I think there is
something the matter with your horse, he goes very much as if
he had a stone in his shoe. Ifyou will allow me, I will look
at his feet; these loose scattered stones are confounded
dangerous things for the horses.”

‘‘ He’s a hired horse,” said my driver; ‘‘ I don’t know what’s
the matter with him, but it is a cre shame to send out a
lame beast like this.”

The farmer dismounted, and slipping his rein over his arm,
at once took up my near foot.

‘* Bless me, there’s a stone! lame!.I should think so!”

At first he tried to dislodge it with his hand, but as it was
now very tightly wedged, he drew a stone-pick out of his
_ pocket, and very carefully, and with some trouble, got it out.
_ Then holding it up, he said, “There, that’s the stone your
horse had picked up; it is a wonder he did not fali down and

break his knees into the bargain!”
Eg
130 Black Beauty.

0

“Well, to be sure!” said my driver, “that is a queer
thing! I never knew that horses picked up stones before.”

“Didn’t you?” said the farmer, rather contemptuously.
“ But they do, though, and the best of them will do it, and
can’t help it sometimes on such roads as these. And if you
don’t want to lame your horse, you must look sharp and get
them out quickly. This foot is very much bruised,” he said,
setting it gently down and patting me. - “If I might advise,
sir, you had better drive him gently for a while; the foot is a
good deal hurt, and the lameness will not go off directly.”

Then, mounting his cob and raising his hat to the lady, he
trotted off.

When he was gone, my driver began to flop the reins about,
and whip the harness, by which I understood that I was to go
on, which of course I did, glad that the stone was gone, but
still in a good deal of pain.

This was the sort of experience we job horses often came in
for. ,




CHAPTER XXIX.

COCKNEYS.

HEN there is the steam-engine style of
driving. These drivers were mostly
people from towns, who never had a
horse of their. own, and generally
travelled by rail.

They always seemed to think that a horse
was something like a steam-engine, only
smaller. At any rate, they think that, if
only they pay for it, a horse is bound to go
just as far, and just as fast, and with just as heavy a load as
they please. And be the roads heavy and muddy, or dry and
good; be they stony or smooth, up-hill or down-hill, it is
all the same—on, on, on, one must go at the same pace, with
no relief, and no consideration.

These people never think of getting out to walk up a steep
hill. Oh, no, they have paid to ride, and ride they will!
The horse? Oh, he’s used to it! What were horses made
for, if not to drag people up-hill? Walk! A good joke
indeed! And so the whip is plied and the rein is chucked, and
often a rough scolding voice cries out, ‘‘Go along, you lazy
beast!”” And then another slash of the whip, when all the
time we are doing our very best to get along, uncomplain-
ing and obedient, though often sorely harassed and down-
hearted.

_ This steam-engine style of driving wears us up faster than

K 2


132 Black Beauty,

any other kind. I would far rather go twenty miles with a
good considerate driver than I would go ten with some ‘of
these; it would take less out of me.

Another thing—they scarcely ever put on the drag, however
steep the down-hill may be, and thus bad accidents some-
times happen; or if they do put it on, they often forget to take
it off at the bottom of the hill; and more than once, I have
had to pull half way up the next hill, with one of the wheels
lodged fast in the drag-shoe, before my driver chose to think
about it; and that is a terrible strain on a horse.

Then these Cockneys, instead of starting at an easy pace as
a gentleman.would do, generally set off at full speed from
the very stable-yard ; and when they want to stop, they first
whip us and then pull up so suddenly, that we are nearly
thrown on our haunches, and our mouths jagged with the
bit; they call that pulling up with a dash! and when they
turn a corner, they do it as sharply as if here were no right
side or wrong side of the road.

I well remember one spring evening I and Rory had been
out for the day. (Rory was the horse that mostly went with
me when a pair was ordered,.and a good honest fellow he.
was.) We had our own driver, and as he was always con-
siderate and gentle with us, we had a very pleasant day. We
were coming home at a good smart pace about twilight; our,
road turned sharp to the left; but as we were close to the
hedge on our own side, and there was plenty of room to pass,
our driver did not pull us in. As we neared the corner I heard
a horse and two wheels coming rapidly down the hill towards
us. The hedge was high, and I could see nothing, but the
next moment we were upon each other. Happily for me, I
was on the side next the hedge. Rory was on the right side
of the pole, and had not even a shaft to protect him. The
man who was driving was making straight for the corner, and
when he came in sight of us he had no time to pull over to his
own side. The whole shock came upon Rory. The gig shaft
ran right into the chest, making him stagger back with a cry
Cockneys. 133,

that I shall never forget. The other horse was thrown upon
his haunches, and one shaft broken. It turned out that it was
a horse from our own stables, with the high-wheeled gig that
the young men were so fond of.

The driver was one of those random, ignorant fellows who
don’t even know which is their own side of the road, or if they
know, don’t care. And there was poor Rory with his flesh
torn open and bleeding, and the blood streaming down.
They said if it had been a little more to one side, it would
have killed him; anda good thing for him, poor fellow, if it
had. < --

As it was, it was a long time before the wound healed, and
then he was sold for coal-carting; and what. that is, up and
down those steep hills, only horses know... Some of the sights
I saw there, where a horse. had to come down-hill with .a
heavily-loaded two-wheel cart behind him, on which no drag
could be placed, make me sad even now to think of.

After Rory was disabled, I often went in the carriage with
amare named Peggy, who stood in the next stall to mine.
She was a strong, well-made animal, of a bright dun colour,
beautifully dappled, and with a dark-brown mane and tail.
‘There was no high breeding about her, but she was. very
pretty, and remarkably sweet-tempered and willing. Still,
there was an anxious look about her eye, by which I knew that
she had some trouble. The first time we went out together
I thought she had a very odd pace; she seemed to go partly
a trot, partly a canter—three or four paces, and then a little
jump forward.

It was very unpleasant for any horse who pulled with her,
and made me quite fidgety. When we got home, I asked her
what made her go in that odd, awkward way.

_ “ Ah,” she said, ina troubled manner, “I know my paces are
very bad, but what can I do? It really is not my fault; it is
just because my legs are so short. I stand nearly as high as
you, but your legs are a good three inches longer above your
knee than mine, and of course you can take a much longer
134 Black Beauty.

step, and go much faster. You see, I did not make myself; I
wish I could have done so; I would have had long legs then.
All my troubles come from my short legs,” said Peggy, in a
desponding tone.

“ But how is it,” I said, ‘when you are so strong and good-
tempered and willing ? ” .

“Why, you see,” said she, “ men will go so fast, and if one
can’t keep up to other horses, it is nothing but whip, whip,
whip, all the time. And so I have had to keep up as I could,
and have got into this ugly shuffling pace. It was not always
so; when I lived with my first master I always went a good
regular trot, but then he was not in such a hurry. He was a
young clergyman in the country, anda good kind master he
was. He had two churches a good way apart, and a great
deal of work, but he never scolded or whipped me for not going
faster. He was very fond ofme. I only wish I was with him
now; but he had to leave and go toa large town, and then I
was sold to a farmer.

“‘Some farmers, you know, are capital masters; but I think
this one was a low sort of man. He cared nothing about good
horses or good driving; he only cared for going fast. I went
as fast as I could, but that would not do, and he was always
whipping ; so I got into this way of making a spring forward
to keep up. On market nights he used to stay very late at the
inn, and then drive home at a gallop.

“One dark night he was galloping home as usual, when all
on a sudden the wheel came against some great heavy thing
in the road, and turned the gig over in a minute. He was
thrown out and his arm broken, and some of his ribs, I think.
At any rate, it was the end of my living with him, and I was
not sorry. But you see it will be the same everywhere for me,
if men zus¢ go so fast. I wish my legs were longer!”

Poor Peggy! I was very sorry for her, and I could not com-
fort her, for I knew how hard it was upon slow-paced horses
to be put with fast ones; all the whipping comes to their
share, and they can’t help it.
. . Cockneys. 135

She was often used in the phaeton, and was very much liked
by some of the ladies, because she was so gentle; and some
time after this she was sold to two ladies who drove themselves,
and wanted a safe, good horse.

I met her several times out in the country, going a good
steady pace, and looking as gay and contented as a horse
could be. I was very glad to see her, for she deserved a good
place.

After she left us another horse came in her stead. He was
young, and had a bad name for shying and starting, by which
he had lost a good place. Iasked him what made him shy.

“Well, I hardly know,” he said; “‘I was timid when I was
young, and was a good deal frightened several times, and if I
saw anything strange, I used to turn and look at it—you see,
with our blinkers one can’t see or understand what a thing is
unless one looks round; and then my master always gave me
a whipping, which of course made me start on, and did not
make me less afraid. I think if he would have let me just
look at things quietly, and see that there was nothing to hurt
me, it would have been all right, and I should have got used —
to them. One day an old gentleman was riding with him, and
a large piece of white paper or rag blew across just on one
side of me; I shied and started forward—my master as usual
whipped me smartly, but the old man cried out, ‘ You’re wrong !
you’re wrong! you should never whip a horse for shying: he
shies because he is frightened, and you only frighten him
more, and make the habit worse.’ So I suppose all men don’t
doso. Iam sure I don’t want to shy for the sake of it; but
how should one know what is dangerous and what is not, if one
is never allowed to get used to anything? I am never afraid
of what I know. Now I was brought up in a-park where
there were deer; of course, I knew them as well as I dida
sheep or a cow, but they are not common, and I know many
sensible horses who are frightened at them, and who kick up
quite a shindy before they will pass a paddock where there are
deer.”
136 Black. Beauty. ace

I knew what my companion said was true, and I wished
that every young horse had as good masters as Farmer Grey
and Squire Gordon. .

Of course we sometimes came in for good driving here. I
remember one morning I was put into the light gig and taken
to a house in Pulteney Street. Two gentlemen came out; the
taller of them came round to my head; he looked at the bit and
bridle, and just shifted the collar with his hand, to see if it
fitted comfortably.

“Do you consider this horse wants a curb?” he said to the
. ostler.

“Well,” said the man, ‘I should say he would go just as
well without ; he has an uncommon good mouth, and though
he has a fine spirit, he has no vice; but we generally find
people like the curb.”

“T don’t like it,” said the gentleman; “be so good as to
take it off, and put the rein in at the cheek;.an easy mouth
is a great thing on a long Oe ray is it not, old fellow?” he
said, patting my neck.

Then he took the reins, and they both got up. I can re-
member now how quietly he turned me round, and then with
a light feel of the rein, and drawing the whip gently across my
back, we were off.

I arched my neck and set off at my best pace. I found I
had someone behind me who. knew how a good horse ought
to be driven. It seemed like old times again, and made me
feel quite gay.

This gentleman took a great liking to me, and after trying
me several times with the saddle, he prevailed upon my master
to sell me to a friend of his, who wanted. a safe, pleasant horse
for riding. And‘so it came to pass that in the summer I was
sold to Mr. Barry.


CHAPTER XXX.
A THIEF.

Y new master was an un-
married man. He lived at
Bath, and was much engaged
in business. His doctor
advised him to take horse
exercise, and for this purpose
he bought me. He hired a
stable a short distance from
his lodgings, and engaged a
man named Filcher as
groom. My master knew
very little about horses, but

he treated me well, and I should have had a good and easy
place, but for. circumstances of which he was ignorant. He
ordered the best hay, with plenty of oats, crushed beans, and
bran, with vetches, or rye grass, as the man might think
needful. I heard the master give the order, so I knew there
was plenty of good food, and I thought I was well off.

Fora few days all went on well; I found that my groom under-
stood his business. He kept the stable clean and airy, and |
he groomed me thoroughly, and was never otherwise than
gentle. He had been an ostler in one of the great hotels in
Bath. He had given that. up, and now cultivated fruit and
vegetables for the market; and. his wife bred and fattened
poultry and rabbits for sale. After a while it seemed to me


138 Black Beauty,

that my oats came very short; I had the beans, but bran was
mixed with them instead of oats, of which there were very few ;
certainly not more than a quarter of what there should have
been. In two or three weeks this began to tell upon my
strength and spirits. The grass food, though very good, was
not the thing to keep up my condition without corn. However,
I could not complain, nor make known my wants. So it went
on for about two months; and I wondered my master did not
see that something was the matter. However, one afternoon
he rode out into the country to see a friend of his—a gentle-_
man farmer, who lived on the road to Wells. This gentleman
had a very quick eye for horses; and after he had welcomed
his friend, he said, casting his eye over me—

“Tt seems to me, Barry, that your horse does not look so
well as he did when you first had him. Has he been well ?”

“Yes, I believe so,” said my master, ‘‘ but he is not nearly
so lively as he was ; my groom tells me that horses are always
dull and weak in the autumn, and that I must expect it.”

“ Autumn ! fiddlestick!” said the farmer ; “‘ why this is only
August ; and with your light work and good food he ought not
to go down like this, even if it was autumn. How do you feed
him ?”

My master told him. The other shook his head slowly, and
began to feel me all over.

_“T can’t say who eats your corn, my dear fellow, but I am
much mistaken if your horse gets it. Have you ridden very fast?”

““No! very gently.”

*« Then just put your hand here,” said he, passing his hand
over my neck and shoulder; ‘“‘he is as warm and damp asa
horse just come up from grass. I advise you to look into your
stable a little more. I hate to be suspicious, and, thank
heaven, I have no cause to be, for I can trust my men, present
or absent; but there are mean scoundrels wicked enough to
rob a dumb beast of his food; you must look into it.” And
turning to his man who had come to take me, ‘ Give this horse
a right good feed of bruised oats, and don’t stint him.”
A Thief. 139

** Dumb beasts!” yes, we are; but if I could have spoken, I
could have told my master where his oats went to. My groom
used to come every morning about six o’clock, and with him
a little boy, who always had a covered basket with him.
He used to go with his father into the harness-room where
the corn was kept, and I could see them, when the door stood
ajar, fill a little bag with oats out of the bin, and then he
used to be off.

Five or six mornings after this, just as the boy had left the
stable, the door was pushed open anda policeman walked in,
holding the child tight by the arm ; another policeman followed,
and locked the door on the inside, saying, ‘‘ Show me the place
where your father keeps his rabbits’ food.”

The boy locked very frightened and began to cry; but there
was nc escape, and he led the way to the corn-bin. Here the
policeman found another empty bag like that which was found
full of oats in the boy’s basket.

Filcher was
cleaning my feet
at the time, but
they soon saw
him, and,though
he blustered a
good deal, they
walked him off
to the ‘ lock-
up,” and his boy
with him. I
heard after-
wards that the
boy was not held
to be guilty, but
the ‘man was
sentenced to
prison for two
months.




CHAPTER XXXI.

A. HUMBUG.

Y master was not immediately suited, but in a
few days my new groom came. He was a tall,
good-looking fellow enough; but if ever there
was a humbug in the shape of a groom,
Alfred Smirk was the man. He was very
civil to me, and never used me ill; in fact,
he did a great deal of stroking and patting,

when his master was there to see it. He always brushed

my mane and tail with water, and my hoofs with oil.
before he brought me to the door, to make me look smart ;

but as to cleaning my feet, or looking to my shoes, or grooming

me thoroughly, he thought no more of that than if I had
been a cow. He left my bit rusty, my saddle damp, and my

crupper stiff.

Alfred Smirk considered himself very handsome ; he spent a
great deal of time about his hair, whiskers, and. necktie, before
a little looking-glass in the harness-room. When his master
was speaking to him, it was always, “ Yes, sir; yes, sir,”
touching his hat at every word; and everyone thought he was
a very nice young man, and that Mr. Barry was very fortunate
to meet with him. I should say he was the laziest, most con-
ceited fellow I ever came near. Of course, it was a great thing
not to be ill-used, but then a horse wants more than that. ‘I
had a loose box, and might have been very comfortable if he


A Humbug. 141

had not been too indolent to clean. it out. He never took all
the straw away, and the smell from what lay underneath was
very bad; while the strong vapours that rose up made my
eyes smart and inflame, and I did not feel the same appetite
for my food.

One day his master came in and said, “ Alfred, the stable
smells rather strong. Should not you give that ‘stall a good
scrub, and throw down plenty of water?”

“Well, sir,” he said, touching his cap, “I'll do:s so if you
please, sir, but it is rather dangerous, sir, throwing down water
in a horse’s box; they are very apt to take cold, sir. I should
not like to do him an injury, but I’ll do it if you please, sir.”

“Well,” said his master, ‘‘I should not like him to take
cold, but I don’t like the smell of this stable. Do you think the
drains are all right ? ”

“Well, sir, now you mention it, Ithink the drain does some-
times send back a smell; there may be something wrong, sir.”

‘*Then send for the bricklayer and have it seen to,” said his
master.

“Yes, sir, I will.”

The bricklayer came and pulled up a great many bricks,
and found nothing amiss; so he put down some lime and
charged the master five shillings, and the smell in my box was
as bad as ever. But that was not all; standing as I did ona
quantity of moist straw, my feet grew unhealthy and _ tender,
and the master used to say—

‘J don’t know what is the matter with this honees he goes
very fumble-footed. I am sometimes afraid he will stumble.”

“Yes, sir,” said Alfred, “I have noticed the same myself,
when I have exercised him.”

Now, the fact was, that he hardly ever did exercise me, and
when the master was busy, I often stood for days together
without stretching my legs at all, and yet being fed just as
high as if I were at hard work. This often disordered my health,
and made me sometimes heavy and dull, but more often rest-
less and feverish. He never even gave me a meal of green-
Tao Black Beauty.

meat or a bran mash, which would have cooled me, for he was
altogether as ignorant as he was conceited; and then, instead
of exercise or change of food, I had to take horse balls and
draughts; which, beside the nuisance of having them poured
down my throat, used to make me feel ill and uncomfortable.

One day my feet were so tender that, trotting over some
fresh stones with my master on my back, I made two such
serious stumbles that,.as he came down Lansdown into the
city, he stopped at the farrier’s, and asked him to see what
was the matter with me. The man took up my feet. one by
one and examined them; then, standing up and dusting his
hands one against the other, he said—

“Your horse has got the ‘thrush,’ and badly too; his feet
are very tender; it is fortunate that he has not been down. I
wonder your groom has not seen to it before. This is the
sort of thing we find in foul stables, where the litter is never
properly cleared out. If you will send him here to-morrow, I
will attend to the hoof, and I will direct your man how to
apply the liniment which I will give him.”

The next day I had my feet thoroughly cleansed and stuffed
with tow, soaked in some strong lotion ; and a very unpleasant
business it was.

The farrier ordered all the litter to be taken out of my box
day by day, and the floor kept very clean. Then I was to
have bran mashes, a little green-meat, and not so much corn,
till my feet were well again. With this treatment I soon
regained my spirits; but Mr. Barry was so much disgusted at
being twice deceived by his grooms, that he determined to give
up keeping a horse, and to hire when he wanted one. I was _
therefore kept till my feet were quite sound, and was then sold
again,


CHAPTER XXXII.

A HORSE FAIR.

O doubt a horse fair is a very
amusing place to those who
have nothing to lose ; at any
rate, there is plenty to see.

Long strings of young
horses out of the country,
fresh from the marshes;
and droves of shaggy little
Welsh ponies, no higher
than Merrylegs; and hun-
dreds of carthorses of all
sorts, some of them with their long tails braided up,
and tied with scarlet cord; and a good many like myself,

handsome and high-bred, but fallen into the middle class,
through some accident or blemish, unsoundness of wind, or
some other complaint. There were some splendid animals
quite in their prime, and fit for anything; they were throw-
ing out their legs and showing off their paces in high style, as
they were trotted out with a leading rein, the groom running

by the side. But round in the background there were a

number of poor things, sadly broken down with hard work;

with their knees knuckling over, and their hind legs swinging


144 : Black Beauty.

out at every step; and there were some very dejected-looking
old horses, with the under lip hanging down, and the ears
lying back heavily, as if there was no more pleasure in life,
and no more hope; there were some so thin, you might see all
their ribs, and some with old sores on their backs and hips;
these were sad sights for a horse to look upon, who knows not
but he may come to the same state.

There was a great deal of bargaining; of running up and
beating down, and if a horse may speak his mind so far as he
understands, I should say there were more lies told and more
trickery at that horse fair than a clever man could give an
account of. I was put.with two or three other strong, useful-
looking horses, and a good many people came to look at us.
The gentlemen always turned from me when they saw my
broken knees; though the man who had me swore it was only
a slip in the stall.

The first thing was to pull my mouth open, then to look at
my eyes, then feel all the way down my legs, and give me a
hard feel of the skin and flesh, and then try my paces. It was
wonderful what a difference there was in the way these things
were done. Some did it in a rough offhand way, as if one
were only a piece of wood; while others would take their hands
gently over one’s body, with a pat now and then, as much as to
say, “‘by your leave.” Of course I judged a good deal of the
buyers by their manners to myself.

There was one man, I thought if he would buy me I should
be happy. He was not a gentleman, nor yet one of the loud
flashy sort that called themselves so. He was rather a small
man, but well-made, and quick in all his motions. I knew ina
moment, by the way he handled me, that he was used to
horses; he spoke gently, and his grey eye had a kindly, cheery
look init. It may seem strange to say—but it is true all the
same—that the clean fresh smell there was about him made
me take to him; no smell of old beer and tobacco, which I
hated, but a fresh smell as if he had come out of a hayloft.
He offered twenty-three pounds for me; but that was refused,
£

A Horse Fair. 145
and he walked away. I looked after him, but he was gone,
and a very hard-looking, loud-voiced man came; I was dread-
fully afraid he would have me; but he walked off. One or two
more came who did not mean business. Then the hard-faced
man came back again and offered twenty-three pounds. A
very close bargain was being driven; for my salesman began
to think he should not: get all he asked, and must come
down. But just then the grey-eyed man came back again.



‘CrHEY WERE THROWING OUT THEIR LEGS AND SHOWING OFF THEIR PACES.”

I could not help reaching out my head towards him. He
stroked my face kindly.

“Well, old chap,” he said, ‘‘I think we should suit each
other. T’ll give twenty-four for him.”

“‘ Say twenty-five, and you shall have him.”

“Twenty-four ten,” said my friend, in a very decided tone,
“and not another sixpence—yes or no?”

ie
146 Black Beauty.

** Done,” said the salesman; ‘‘ and you may depend upon it
there’s a monstrous deal of quality in that horse, and if you
want him for cab work, he’s a bargain.”

The money was paid on the spot, and my new master
took my halter, and led me out of the fair to an inn, where
he had a saddle and bridle ready. He gave mea good feed
of oats, and stood by whilst I ate it, talking to himself and
talking to me. Halfan hour after we were on our way to

“INTO THE GREAT LONDON THOROUGHFARE.”



London, through plea-
sant lanes and country
roads, until we came
into the great London
thoroughfare, on which
we travelled steadily till
in the twilight we
reached the great city.
The gas lamps were
already lighted; there
were streets to the right,
and streets to the left,
and streets crossing
each other for mile upon
mile. I thought we
should never come to
the end of them. At
last, in passing through
one, we came to a long
cabstand, when my rider
called out, in a cheery
voice, “ Good-night,
governor!”

“ Halloo!” cried a
voice, “have you gota
good one?”

“T think so,” replied
my owner.
A Horse Fie, 147



** 4 COMFORTABLE CLEAN-SMELLING STALL WITH PLENTY OF DRY STRAW.”

“T wish you luck with him.”

“Thank ye, governor,” and he rode on. We soon turned up
one of the side streets, and about half-way up that we turned
into a very narrow street, with rather poor-looking houses
on one side and what seemed to be coach-houses and stables
on the other.

My owner pulled up at one of the houses and whistled.
The door flew open, and a young woman, followed by a little
girl and boy, ran out. There was a very lively greeting as
my rider dismounted.

“Now then, Harry, my boy, open the gates, and mother
will bring us the lantern.”

The next minute they were all standing round me in a small
stable-yard.

“Is he gentle, father?”

“Yes, Dolly, as gentle as your own kitten; come and pat
him.”

L 2
148 Black Beauty.

At once the little hand was patting about all over my
shoulder without fear. How good it felt !

“Let me get hima bran mash while you rub‘him down,”
said the mother. ,

“Do, Polly, it’s just what he wants, and I know you’ve got.
a beautiful mash ready for me.” -

“Sausage dumpling and apple turnover,” shouted the boy,
which set them all laughing. I was led into a comfortable
clean-smelling stall with plenty of dry straw, and after a capital
supper, I lay down, thinking I was going to be happy.




CHAPTER XXXIII.
A LONDON CAB HORSE,

Y new master’s name was Jeremiah Barker,
but, as everyone called him Jerry, I shall
do the same. Polly, his wife, was just as

= good a match asa man could have. She

was a plump trim, tidy little woman, with
smooth dark hair, dark eyes, and a merry
little mouth. The boy was nearly twelve
years old, a tall, frank, good-tempered lad ;
and little Dorothy (Dolly they called her)
was her mother over again at eight years old. They were

all wonderfully fond of each other; I never knew such a

happy, merry family before or since. Jerry had a cab of his

own, and two horses, which he drove and attended to himself.

His other horse was a\.tall, white, rather large-boned animal,

called Captain; he was old now, but when he was young he

must have been splendid ; he had still a proud way of holding
his head and arching his neck; in fact, he was a high-bred,
fine-mannered, noble old horse, every inch of him. He told
me that in his early youth he went to the Crimean War; he
belonged to an officer in the cavalry, and used to lead the
regiment ; I will tell more of that hereafter.

The next morning, when I was well groomed, Polly and

Dolly came into the yard to see me, and make friends. Harry

had been helping his father since the early morning, and had


150 Black Beauty.

stated his opinion that I should turn out a “ regular brick.”
Polly brought me a slice of apple and Dolly a piece of bread,
and made as much of me as if I had been the “‘ Black Beauty ”
of olden time. It was a great treat to be petted again, and
talked to in a gentle voice, and I let them see as well as I could
that-I wished to be friendly. Polly thought I was very hand-
some, and a great deal too good for a cab if it was not for the
broken knees.

“Of course, there’s no one to tell us whose fault that was,”
said Jerry, ‘‘ and, as long as I don’t know, I shall give him the
benefit of the doubt ; for a firmer, neater stepper I never rode;
we'll call him ‘ Jack,’ after the old one—shall we, Polly ?”’

*‘ Do,” she said, “ for I like to keep a good name going.”

Captain went out in the cab all the morning. Harry came
in after school to feed me and give mewater. Inthe afternoon
I was put into the cab. Jerry took as much pains to see if the
collar and bridle fitted comfortably as if he had been John
Manly over again. When the crupper was let out a hole or
two, it all fitted well. There was no bearing-rein—no curb—
nothing but a plain ring-snaffle. What a blessing that was!

After driving through the side street we came to the large
cabstand where Jerry had said “‘ Good-night.”” On one side
of this wide street were high houses with wonderful shop-fronts,
and on the other was an old church and churchyard surrounded
by iron palisades. Alongside these iron rails a number of
cabs were drawn up, waiting for passengers: bits of hay were
lying about on the ground; some of.the men were standing
together talking; some were sitting on their boxes reading
the newspaper; and one or two were feeding their horses with
bits of hay, and a drink of water. We pulled up in the rank
at the back of the last cab. Two or three men came round
and began to look at me and pass their remarks.

““ Very good for a funeral,” said one.

“Too smart-looking,” said another, shaking his head in a
very wise way ; “‘ you'll find out something wrong one of these
fine mornings, or my name isn’t Jones.”


‘4 HORSE DOWN!”
152 Black Beauty.

“Well,” said Jerry, pleasantly, ‘‘ I suppose I need not find it
out till it finds me out, eh? and, if so, I'll keep up my spirits
a little longer.”

hen came up a broad-faced man, dressed in a great grey
coat with great grey capes and great white buttons, a grey
hat, and a blue comforter loosely tied round his neck ; his hair
was grey, too, but he was a jolly-looking fellow, and the other
men made way for him.- He looked me all over, as if he had
been going to buy me; and then, straightening himself up with
a grunt, he said, “‘ He’s the right sort for you, Jerry; I don’t
care what you gave for him, he'll be worth it.” Thus my
character was established on the stand.

This man’s name’ was Grant, but he was called “ Grey
Grant,” or “ Governor Grant.” He had been the longest on
that stand of any of the men, and he took it upon himself to
settle matters and stop disputes. He was generally a good- -
humoured, sensible man; but if his temper was a little out, as
it was sometimes, when he had drunk too much, nobody liked
to come too near his fist, for he could deal a very heavy blow.

The first week of my life as a cab horse was very trying; ‘I
had never been used to London, and the noise, the hurry, the
crowds of horses, carts, and carriages that I had to make my
way through made me feel anxious and harassed; but I soon
- found that I could perfectly trust my driver, and then I made
myself easy, and got used to it.

Jerry was as good a driver as I had ever known; and,
what was better, he took as much thought for his horses as he
did for himself. He soon found out that I was willing to
work and do my best ; and he never laid the whip on me, un-
less it was gently drawing the end of it over my back when I
was to go on; but generally I knew this quite well by the way
in which he took up the reins; and I believe his whip was
more frequently stuck up by his side than in his hand.

In a short time I and my master understood each other as
well as horse and man can do. In the stable, too, he did all
that he could for our comfort. The stalls were the old-
A London Cab Horse. 153

fashioned style, too much on the slope; but he had two mov-
able bars fixed across the back of our stalls, so that at night, -
and when we were resting, he just took off our halters, and put
up the bars, and thus we could turn about and stand whichever
way we pleased, which is a great comfort.

Jerry kept us very clean, and gave us as much change of
food as he could, and always plenty of it ; and not only that,
but he always gave us plenty of clean, fresh water, which he
allowed to stand by us both night and day, except, of course,
when we came in warm. Some people say that a horse ought
not to, drink all he likes; but I know if we are allowed to drink
when we want it, we drink only a little at atime, and it does
us a great deal more good than swallowing down halfa bucket-
ful at a time, because we have been left without till we ‘are
thirsty and miserable. Some grooms will go home to their
beer and leave us for hours with our dry hay and oats and
nothing to moisten them; then, of course, we gulp down too
much at once, which helps to spoil our breathing and some-
times chills our stomachs. But the best thing that we had ©
here was our Sundays for rest. We worked so hard in the week,
_ that I do not think we could have kept up to it but for that
day ; besides, we had then time to enjoy each other’s company.
It was on these days that I learned my companion’s history.




CHAPTER XXXIV.
AN OLD WAR HORSE.

APTAIN had been broken in and trained for
an army horse; his first owner was an
officer of cavalry going out to the Crimean
War. He said he quite enjoyed the train-
ing with all the other horses, trotting to-
gether, turning together, to the right hand
or to the left, halting at the word of

command, or dashing forward at full speed at the sound of the

trumpet or signal of the officer. He was, when young, a dark,
dappled iron grey, and considered very handsome. His
master, a young, high-spirited gentleman, was very fond of
him, and treated him from the first with the greatest care
and kindness. He told me he thought the life of an army
horse was very pleasant; but when it came to being sent
abroad, over the sea in a great ship, he almost changed his

mind. ,

“That part of it,” said he, ‘‘was dreadful! Of course we
could not walk off the land into the ship; so they were obliged
to put strong straps under our bodies, and then we were
lifted off our legs in spite of our struggles, and were swung
through the air over the water, to the deck of the great vessel.
There we were placed in small, close stalls, and never for a
long time saw the sky or were able to stretch our legs. The
ship sometimes rolled about in high winds, and we were


An Old War Horse. . 155

knocked about, and felt bad enough. However, at last it came
to an end, and we were hauled up, and swung over again to the
land; we were very glad, and snorted and neighed for joy
when we once more felt firm ground under our feet.

‘We soon found that the country we had come to was very
different to our own, and that we had many hardships to
endure besides the fighting; but many of the men were so fond
of their horses, that they did everything they could to make them
comfortable, in spite of snow, wet, and all things out of order.”



“WE WERE LIFTED OFF OUR LEGS... AND SWUNG THROUGH THE AIR.”

“ But what about the fighting?” said I. ‘Was not that
worse than anything else?”

“Well,” said he, ‘I hardly know; we always liked to hear
the trumpet sound, and to be called out, and were impatient to
start off, though sometimes we had to stand for hours, waiting
for the word of command; and when the word was given, we
used to spring forward as gaily and eagerly as if there were no
cannon balls, bayonets, or bullets. I believe so long as we
felt our rider firm in the saddle, and his hand steady on the
156 Black Beauty.

bridle, not one of us gave way to fear, not even when the
terrible bombshells whirled through the air and burst into a
thousand pieces.

‘J with my noble master went into many actions together
without a wound; and though I saw horses shot down with
bullets, pierced through with lances, and gashed with fearful
sabre-cuts, though we left them dead on the field or dying in
the agony of their wounds, I don’t think I feared for myself.
My master’s cheery voice, as he encouraged his men, made me
feel as if he and I could not be killed. I had such perfect trust in
him, that whilst he was guiding me I was ready to charge up
to the very cannon’s mouth.- Isaw many brave men cut down,
many fall mortally wounded from their saddles. I had heard the
cries and groans of the dying, I had cantered over ground
slippery with blood, and frequently had to turn aside to avoid
trampling on wounded man or horse, but until one dreadful
day I had never felt terror; that day I shall never forget.”

Here old Captain paused for a while and drew a long breath.
_ I waited, and he went on—

“Tt was one autumn morning, and, as usual, an hour before
daybreak our cavalry had turned out, ready caparisoned for
the day’s work, whether it might be fighting or waiting. The
men stood by their horses waiting, ready for orders. As the
light increased, there seemed to be some excitement among
the officers ; and before the day was well begun we heard the
firing of the enemy’s guns.

“Then one of the officers rode up and gave the word for
the men to moumt, and in a second every man was in his
saddle, and every horse stood expecting the touch of the
rein or the pressure of his rider’s heels, all animated, all
eager; but still we had been trained so well that, except by
the champing of our bits and the restive tossing of our heads
from time to time, it could not be said that we stirred.

““My dear master and I were at the head of the line, and
as all sat motionless and watchful, he took a little stray lock
of my mane which had turned over on the wrong side, laid it
4

An Old War Forse. 157

over on the right, and smoothed it down with his hand; then
patting my neck, he said, ‘We shall have a day of it to-day,
Bayard, my beauty; but we'll do our duty as we have done.’
He stroked my neck that morning more, I think, than he had
ever done before ; quietly on and on, as if he were thinking of
something else. I loved to feel his hand on my neck, and
arched my crest proudly and happily; but I stood very still,
for I knew all his moods, and when he liked me to be quiet
and when gay.

“T cannot tell all that happened on that day, but I will tell
of the last charge that we made together: it was across a
valley right in front of the enemy’s cannon. By this time we
were well used to the roar of heavy guns, the rattle of musket fire,
and the flying of shot near us; but never had I been under
such a fire as we rode through on that day. From the right,
from the left, and from the front, shot and shell poured in
upon us. Many a brave man went down, many a horse fell,
flinging his rider to the earth; many a horse without a rider
ran wildly out of the ranks: then, terrified at being alone with
no hand to guide him, came pressing in amongst -his old
companions, to gallop with them to the charge.

‘* Fearful as it was, no one stopped, no one turned back.
Every moment the ranks were thinned, but as our comrades
fell, we closed in to keep them together ; and instead of being
shaken or staggered in our pace, our gallop became faster and
faster as we neared the cannon, all clouded in white smoke,
while the red fire flashed through it.

“My master, my dear master, was cheering on his comrades
with his right arm raised on high, when one of the balls
whizzing close to my head, struck him. I felt him stagger
with the shock, though he uttered no cry; I tried to check
my speed, but the sword dropped from his right hand, the rein
fell loose from the left, and sinking backward from the saddle,
he fell to the earth; the other riders swept past us, and by the
force of their charge I was, driven from the spot where he fell.

“TI wanted to keep my place by his side, and not leave

e
158 Black Beauty.

him under that rush of horses’ feet, but it was in vain; and
now without a master or a friend, I was alone on that great
slaughter ground ; then fear took hold on me, and I trembled
as I had never trembled before; and I too, as I had seen
other horses do, tried to join in the ranks and gallop with
them ; but I was beaten off by the swords of the soldiers.
Just then a soldier whose horse had been killed under him
caught at my bridle and mounted me; and with this new
master I was again going forward: but our gallant company
was cruelly overpowered, and those who remained alive after
the fierce fight for the guns came galloping back over the
same ground. Some of the horses had been so badly wounded
that they could scarcely move from the loss of blood; other
noble creatures were trying on three legs to drag themselves
along, and others were struggling to rise on their fore feet,
when their hind legs had been shattered by shot. Their
groans were piteous to hear, and the beseeching look in their
eyes, as those who escaped passed by and left them to their
fate, I shall never forget. After the battle the wounded men
were brought in, and the dead were buried.”

“And what about the wounded horses?” I said. ‘“‘ Were
they left to die?”

“No, the army farriers went over the field with their pistols,
and shot all that were ruined; some that had only slight
wounds were brought back and attended to, but the greater
part of the noble, willing creatures that went out that morning
never came back! In our stables there was only about one in
four that returned.

“J never saw my dear master again. I believe he fell dead
from the saddle. I never loved any other master so well. I
went into many other engagements, but was only once
wounded, and then not seriously; and when the war was
over I came back again to England, as sound and strong as
when I went out.”

I said, ‘‘I have heard people talk about war as if it was a
very fine thing.”


**RBy THE FORCE OF THEIR CHARGE I WAS DRIVEN FROM THE SPOT WHERE HE FELL.”
160 Black Beauty.

“Ah!” said he, ‘‘I should think they never saw it. No
doubt it is very fine when there is no enemy, when it is just
exercise and parade and sham-fight. Yes, it is very fine then;
but when thousands of good brave men and horses are killed,
or crippled for life, it has a very different look.”

“Do you know what they fought about ?” said-I.

“No,” he said, ‘‘that is more than a horse can understand,
but the enemy must have been awfully wicked people, if it was
right to go all that way over the sea on purpose to kill
them.”








I al ‘yl
yi mil

y yd

pai

If
vie Wh,



CHAPTER XXXV.
JERRY BARKER.

NEVER knew a better man than my new
master; he was kind and good, and as strong
for the right as John Manly; and so good-
tempered and merry, that very few people
could pick a quarrel with him. He was very
fond of making little songs, and singing them

- 7 to himself. One he was very fond of was



“ Come, father and mother,

And sister and brother,
Come, all of you, turn to

And help one another.”

And so they did. Harry was as clever at stable-work as a
much older boy, and always wanted to do what he could.
Then Polly and Dolly used to come inthe morning to help
with the cab—to brush and beat the cushions, and rub the
glass, while Jerry was giving us a cleaning in the yard and
Harry was rubbing the harness. There used to be a great
deal of laughing and fun between them, and it put Captain and
me in much better spirits than if we had heard scolding and
hard words. »They were always early in the morning, for Jerry

would say—
“Tf you in the morning
Throw minutes away,
You can’t pick them up
In the course of the day.
You may hurry and scurry,
And flurry and worry,
You’ve lost them for ever,
For ever and aye.”
162 — Black Beauty.

He could not bear any careless loitering and waste of time ;
and nothing was so near making him angry as to find people
who were always late wanting a cab horse to be driyen hard,
to make up for their idleness.

One day two wild-looking young men came out of a tavern
close by the stand, and called Jerry.

“Here, cabby! look sharp; we are rather late. Put on the
steam, will you, and take us to the Victoria in time for the one
o’clock train? You shall have a shilling extra.”

“JT will take you at the regular pace, gentlemen; shillings
don’t pay for putting on the steam like that.”

Larry’s cab was standing next to ours; he flung open the
door, and said, “ I’m your man, gentlemen! Take my cab; my
horse will get you there all right;” and as he shut them in,
with a wink towards Jerry, said, ‘‘ It’s against his conscience
to go beyond a jog-trot.” Then, slashing his jaded horse, he
set off as hard as he could. Jerry patted me on the neck—
“No, Jack, a shilling would not pay for that’sort of thing,
would it, old boy?”

Although Jerry was determinately set against hard driving to
please careless people, he always went a good fair pace, and was
not against putting on the steam, as he said, if he only knew zy.

I well remember one morning, as we were on the stand
waiting for a fare, that a young man, carrying a heavy
portmanteau, trod on a piece of orange-peel which lay on the
pavement, and fell down with great force.

Jerry was the first to run and lift him up. He seemed much
stunned, and as they led him into a shop, he walked as if he
were in great pain. Jerry of course came back to the stand,
but in about ten minutes one of the shopmen called him, so
we drew up to the pavement.

“Can you take me to the South-Eastern Railway?” said
the young man. “ This unlucky fall has made me late, I fear;
but it is of great importance that I should not lose the twelve
o’clock train. I should be most thankful if you could get me
there in time, and will gladly pay you an extra fare.”
Jerry Barker. 163

“T’ll do my very best,” said Jerry, heartily, ‘if you think
you are well enough, sir,” for he looked dreadfully white and
“ill.

“I must go,” he said, earnestly. ‘‘ Please to open the door,
and let us lose no time.”

The next minute Jerry was on the box, with a cheery chirrup
to me, and a twitch of the rein that I well understood.

*“Now then, Jack, my boy,” said he, “spin along; we'll
show them how we can get over the ground, if we only know
why.”

It is always difficult to drive fast in the City in the middle
of the day, when the streets are full of traffic, but we did what
could be done; and when a good driver and a good horse, who
understand each other, are of one mind, it is wonderful what
they can do. I had a very good mouth—that is, I could be
guided by the slightest touch of the rein, and that is a great
thing in London, amongst carriages, omnibuses, carts, vans,
trucks, cabs, and great waggons creeping along at a walking
pace; some going one way, some another, some going
slowly, others wanting to pass them, omnibuses stopping
short every few minutes to take up a passenger, obliging the
horse that is coming behind to pull up too, or to pass and get
before them. Perhaps you try to pass, but just then something
else comes dashing in through the narrow opening, and you
have to keep in behind the omnibus again. Presently you
think you see a chance, and manage to get to the front,
going so near the wheels on.each side, that half an inch
nearer and they would scrape. Well, you get along for a
bit, but soon find yourself in.a long train of carts and carriages
all obliged to go at a walk. Perhaps you come to a regular
block-up, and have to stand still for minutes together, till
something clears out into a side street, or the policeman
interferes. You have to be ready for any chance—to dash for-
ward if there be an opening, and be quick as a rat-dog to see if
there be room, and if there be time, lest you get your own
wheels locked or smashed, or the shaft of some other vehicle

M 2
164 Black Beauty.

run into your chest or shoulder. All this is what you have
to be ready for. If you want ‘to get through London fast in
‘the middle of the day, it wants a deal of practice.

Jerry and I were used to it, and no one could beat us at
getting through when we were set upon it. I was quick and
bold, and could always trust my driver; Jerry was quick, and
patient at the same time, and could trust his horse, which was
a great thing too. He very seldom used the whip; I knew by
his voice and his click-click when he wanted to get on fast,
and by the rein where I was to go; so there was no need for
whipping ;. but I must go back to my story.

The streets were full that day, but we got on pretty well as far
as the bottom of Cheapside, where there was a block for three
or four minutes. The young man put his head out, and said,
anxiously, ‘I think I nee better get out and walk ; I shall never
get there if this goes on.’

Tl do all that can be done, sir,’ a ae oT think we
shall be in time; this block-up cannot last ace longer, and
your luggage is very heavy for you to carry, sir.’

Just then the cart in front of us began to move on, and ‘then
we hada good turn. In and out, in and out, we went, as fast
‘as horseflesh could do it, and for a wonder had a good clear
time on London Bridge, for there was a whole train of cabs and
carriages, all going our way at a quick trot—perhaps wanting
to catch that very train; at any rate, we whirled into the
station with many more just as the great clock pointed to eight
minutes to twelve o’clock.

“Thank God! we are in time,” said the young man, “and
thank you too, my friend, and your good horse. You have saved
me more than money can ever pay for; take this extra half-
crown.”

“No, sit, no, thank you all the same; so glad we hit the
time, sir, but don’t stay now, sir; the bell is ringing. Here,
porter! take this gentleman’s luggage—Dover line—twelve
o’clock train—that’s it,” and without waiting for another word,
Jerry wheeled me round to make room for other cabs that were
Jerry Barker. 165

daching up at the last minute, and drew up on one side all the:
crush was past.

***So glad!’ he said, ‘so glad ! > poor young fellow! ro
wonder what it was that made him so anxious!’

Jerry often talked to himself quite loud enough for me to
hear, when we were not moving.

On Jerry’s return to the rank, there was a acon deal of
laughing and chaffing at him for driving hard to the train for
an extra fare, as they said, all against his principles ; oc they
wanted to know how much he had pocketed.

‘A good -deal-more than I generally get,” said he, nodding
slily. ‘‘ What he gave me will keep me in little comforts for
several days.”

“‘Gammon !” said one.

“ He's a humbug,” said another, ‘preaching to us, and then
doing the same himself.” :

** Look here, mates,” said Jerry, “‘ the gentleman offered me
half-a-crown extra, but I didn’t take it ; ’twas quite pay enough’
for me, to see how glad he was to catch that train; and if Jack
and I choose to have a quick run now and then to please our-

_ selves, that’s our business and not yours.”

“Well,” said Larry, “‘ you’/d never be a rich man.”

“Most likely not,” said Jerry, “‘ but I don’t know that I shall
be the less happy for that. I have heard the Commandments
vead a great many times, and I never noticed that any of them
said, ‘Thou shalt be rich ;’ and there are a good many curious
things said in the New Testament about rich men that I
think would make me feel rather queer if I was one of them.”

““Tf you ever do get rich,” said Governor Gray,.looking over
his shoulder across the top of his cab, “‘ you'll deserve it, Jerry,
and you won’t find acurse come with your wealth. As for you,
Larry, you'll die poor; you spend too much in whipeord.”

“Well,” said Larry, ‘what is a fellow to do if his horse
won’t go without it ?”

“You never take the trouble to see if he will go without
it; your whip is always going as if you had the St. Vitus’
166, Black Beauty.

‘dance in your arm; and if it does not wear you out, it
wears your horse out; you know you are always changing
your horses, and why? because you never give them any
peace or encouragement.” .

“Well, I have not had good luck,” said Larry, “that’s
where it is.”

“* And you never will,” said the Governor; ‘‘ Good Luck is
rather particular who she rides with, and mostly prefers those
who have got common sense and a good heart; at least, that
is my experience.”

Governor Gray turned round again to his newspaper, and
the other men went to their cabs.



S¢JERRY BARKER.”


CHAPTER XXXVI.

THE SUNDAY CAB.

NE morning, as Jerry had just



put me into the shafts and
was fastening the traces, a
gentleman walked into the
yard. “Your servant, sir,”
said Jerry.

“Good morning, Mr. Bar-
ker,” said the gentleman.
*“T should be glad to make
some arrangements with you
for taking Mrs. Briggs regu-
larly to church on Sunday
mornings. We go to the New
Church now, and that is
rather further than she can
walk.”

“Thank you, sir,” said
Jerry, “‘but I have only
taken out a six days’ licence

and ‘ieecine I could not take a fare on a Sunday; it would

not be legal.”

| A few years since the annual charge for a cab licence was very much
reduced, and the difference between the six and seven days’ cabs was
168 Black Beauty.

“Oh!” said the other, “I did not know yours was a six
days’ cab; but, of course, it would be very easy to alter your
licence. I would see that you did not lose by it. The fact is,
Mrs. Briggs very much prefers you to drive her.”

“T should be glad to oblige the lady, sir, but I had a
seven days’ licence once, and the work was too hard for me,
and too hard for my horses. Year in and year out, not a
day’s rest, and never a Sunday with my wife and children,
and never able to go to a place of worship, which I had
always been used to do before I took to the driving-box; so
for the last five years I have only taken a six days’ licence,
and I find it better all’ the way round.”

“Well, of course,” replied Mr. Briggs, “it is very proper
that every person should have rest, and be able to go to church
on. Sundays, but I should have thought you would not have
minded such a short distance for the horse, and only once a
day ; you would have all the afternoon and evening for yourself,
and we are very good customers, you know.”

“Yes, sir, that is true, and I am grateful for all favours, I
am sure, and anything that I could do to oblige you or the
lady I should be:proud and happy to do; but I can’t’ give up
my Sundays, sir; indeed Ican’t. I read that God made man,
and He made fone and all. the other beasts, and as soon as
He had made them, He made a day of rest, and bade that all
should rest one day in seven; and Isthink, sir, He must have
known what was good for them, and I am sure it is good for
me; I am stronger and healthier altogether now that I have
a day of rest; the horses are fresh, too, and do not wear
up nearly so fast. The six-day drivers all tell me the same,
and I have laid by more money in the Savings’ Bank than
ever I did before; and as for the wife and children, sir—
why, heart alive! they would not go back to the seven days for
all they could see.’

‘“‘Oh, very well,” said the gentleman. “ Don’t trouble your-
self, Mr. Barker, any further; I will inquire somewhere else,”
and he walked away.
The Sunday Cab. | 169

“ Well,” says Jerry to me,. “we ¢ can't help it, Jack, old boy ;
we must have our Sundays.”
“Polly!” he shouted, ‘‘ Polly! come here.”
' She was there in a minute..
“What is it all about, Jerry?”
ne Why, my dear, Mr. Briggs wants me to take Mrs. Briggs



*“SUNDAY REST.”

to church every Sunday morning. I say I have only a six
days’ licence. He says, ‘Get a seven days’ licence, and I’ll
make it worth your while’; and you know, Polly, they are
very good customers to us. Mrs. Briggs often goes out
shopping for hours, or making calls, and then she pays down
17O° —. Black Beauty.

fair and honourable like a lady; there’s no beating down, or

making three hours into two hours and a half, assome folks do;
~ and it is easy work for the horses ; not like tearing along to catch
trains for people that are always a quarter of an hour too late ;
and if I don’t oblige her in this matter, it is very likely we
shall lose them altogether. What do you say, little woman?”

‘I say, Jerry,” says she, speaking very slowly, “I say, if Mrs.
Briggs would give you a sovereign every Sunday morning, I
would not have you a seven days’ cabman again. We have
known what it was. to have no Sundays; and now we
know what it is to call them our own. Thank God, you
earn enough to keep us, though it is sometimes close work to
pay for all the oats and hay, the licence, and the rent besides ;
but Harry will soon be earning something, and I would rather
struggle on harder than we do than go back to those horrid
times, when you hardly had a. minute to look at your own
children, and we never could go to a place of worship to-
gether, or have a happy, quiet day. God forbid that we
should ever turn back to those times; that’s what I say, Jerry.”

“And that is just what I told Mr. Briggs, my dear,” said
Jerry, ‘and what I mean to stick to; so don’t go and fret
yourself, Polly ” (for she had begun to cry); “I would not goback
to the old times if I earned twice as much; so that is settled,
little woman. Now, cheer up, and I’ll be off to the stand.”

Three weeks had passed away after this conversation, and
no order had come from Mrs. Briggs; so there was nothing
but taking jobs from the stand. Jerry took it to heart a good
deal, for of course the work was harder for horse and man; but
Polly would always cheer him up and say, “‘ Never mind, father,
never mind—

“Do your best,
And leave the rest,
*Twill all come right
Some day or night.”

It soon became known that Jerry had lost his best customer,
‘ and for what reason. Most of the men said he was.a fool, but
two or three took his part.
wy

The Sunday Cab. 171

** If working men don’t stick to their Sunday,” said Truman,
** they’ll soon have none left. It is every man’s right and every
beast’s right. By God’s law we havea day of rest, and by
the law of England we have a day of rest; and I say we ought
to hold to the rights these laws give us, and keep them for our |
children.”

“¢ All very well for you religious chaps to talk so,” said Larry,
“but I’ll turn a shilling whenI can. I don’t believe in religion,
for I don’t see that your religious people are any better than the
rest.” .

“ If they are not better,” put in Jerry, ‘it is because they are
not religious. You might as well say that our country’s laws
are not good because some people break them. Ifa man gives
way to his temper, and speaks evil of his neighbour, and does
not pay his debts, he is ~o¢ religious; I don’t care how much
he goes to church. Ifsome men are shams and humbugs, that
does not make religion untrue. Real religion is the best and
the truest thing in the world; and the only thing that can
make a man really happy, or make the world any better.”

“Tf religion was good for anything,” said Jones, ‘it would
prevent your religious people from making us work on Sundays,
as you know many of them do, and that’s why I say religion
is nothing but a sham. Why, if it was not for the church
and chapel goers it would be hardly worth while our coming
out on a Sunday; but they have their privileges, as they call
them, and I go without. I shall expect them to answer for my
soul, if I can’t get a chance of saving it.”

Several of the men applauded this, till Jerry said—

‘“‘ That may sound well enough, but it won’t do; every man
must look after his own soul; you can’t lay it down at another
man’s door, like a foundling, and expect him to take care of it ;
and, don’t you see, if you are always sitting on your box waiting
for a fare, they will say, ‘If we don’t take him, someone
else will, and he does not look for any Sunday.’ Of course
they don’t go to the bottom of it, or. they would see if they
never came for a cab it would be no use your standing there ;
-

172 Black Beauty. +

but people don’t always like to go to the bottom of things; it
may not be convenient to do it; but if you Sunday drivers
would all strike for a day of rest, the thing would be done.”

«‘And what would all.the good’ people do if they could. not
get to their favourite preachers ?.” said Larry.

“*Tis not for me to lay down plans for other people,” said
Jerry; “‘ but if they can’t walk so far, they can go to what is
nearer; and if it should rain they can put on their macintoshes
as they do on a week-day. Ifa thing is right, it caz be done,
and if it is wrong, it caz be done without ; and a good man will
find a way; and that is as true for us cabmen as it is for the
church-goers.”





(ee

a

CHAPTER XXXVII

THE GOLDEN RULE.

WO or three weeks after this, as we came
‘into the yard rather late in the evening,
Polly came running across the road
with the lantern (she always brought it
to him if it was not very wet).

“Tt has ‘all come right, Jerry; Mrs.
Briggs sent her servant this afternoon
to ask you to take her out to-morrow at

eleven o’clock. I said, ‘ Yes, I thought so, but we supposed
she employed someone else now.’

““« Well,’ says he, ‘the real fact is, master was put
out because Mr. Barker refused to come on Sundays, and he
has been trying other cabs, but there’s something wrong with
them all; some drive too fast, and some too slow, and the
mistress says there is not one of them so nice and clean as
yours, and nothing will suit her but Mr. Barker’s cab again.’’

Polly was almost out of breath, and Jerry broke out into a
merry laugh—

“All come right some day o or night. You were right, my
dear; you generally are. Run in and get the supper, and I'll
have Jack's harness off and make him snug and happy in no
time.”

After this, Mrs. Briggs wanted Jerry’s cab quite as often as
before, never, however, on a Sunday; but there came a day


174 | Black Beauty.

when we had Sunday work, and this was how it happened.
We had all come home on the Saturday night very tired, and
very glad to think that the next day would be all rest, but so
it was not to be. â„¢

On Sunday morning Jerry was cleaning me in the yard,
when Polly stepped up to him, looking very full of something.

“‘ What is it ?” said Jerry.

“Well, my dear,” she said, ‘ poor Dinah Brown has just
had a letter brought to say that her mother is dangerously ill,
and that she must go directly if she wishes to see her alive.
The place is more than ten miles away from here, out in the
country, and, she says if she takes the train she should still
have four miles to walk; and so weak as she is, and the baby
only four weeks old, of course that would be impossible ; and
she wants to know if you would take her in your cab, and
she promises to pay you faithfully as she can get the
money.”

“Tut, tut, we'll see about that. It was not the money I was
thinking about, but of losing our Sunday. The horses are tired,
and I am tired too—that’s where it pinches.” ;

“It pinches all round, for that matter,” said Polly, “ for it’s
only half Sunday without you; but you know we should do to
other people as we should like they should do to us; and I
know very well what I should like if my mother was dying ;
and, Jerry, dear, ] am sure it won’t break the Sabbath; for if
pulling a poor beast or donkey out of a pit would not spoil it,
I am quite sure taking pcor Dinah would not do it.”

“Why, Polly, youare as good as the minister, and so, as I’ve
had my Sunday morning: sermon early to-day, you may go and
tell Dinah that I’ll be ready for her as the clock strikes ten;
but stop—just step round to butcher Braydon’s with my com-
pliments, and ask him if he would lend me his light trap; I
know he never uses it on the Sunday, and it would make a
wonderful difference to the horse.”

Away she went, and soon returned, saying that he could have
the trap and welcome.
The Golden Rule. 175

“All right,” said he; ‘‘now put me upa bit of bread and
cheese, and I’ll be back in the afternoon as soon as I can.”

“* And I'll have the meat pie. ready for an early tea instead of
for dinner,” said Polly; and away she went, whilst he made

_his preparations to the tune of “ Polly’s the woman and no
mistake,” of which tune he was very fond.

I was selected for the journey, and at ten o’clock we started,
in a light, high-wheeled gig, which ran so easily that, after the
four-wheeled cab, it seemed like nothing.

It was a fine May day, and as soon as we were out of the ©
town, the sweet air, the smell of the fresh grass, and the soft
country roads were as pleasant as they used to be in the old
times, and I soon began to feel quite fresh.

Dinah’s family lived in a small farm-house, up a green lane,
close by a meadow with some fine shady trees; there were two
cows feeding in it. A young man asked Jerry to bring his
trap into the meadow, and he would tie me up in the cowshed;
he wished he had a better stable to offer.

“Tf your cows would not be offended,” said Jerry, “there
is nothing my horse would like so well as to have an hour or
two in your beautiful meadow; he’s quiet, and it would be a
rare treat for him.” . ;

“Do, and welcome,” said the young man. ‘ The best we
have is at your service for your kindness to my sister. We shall
be having some dinner in an hour, and I hope you'll come in,
though with mother so ill we are all out of sorts in the house.”

Jerry thanked him kindly, but said, as he had some dinner
with him, there was nothing he should like so well as walking
about in the meadow.

When my harness was taken off, I did not know what I
should do first—whether to eat the grass, or roll over on my
back, or lie down and rest, or have a gallop across the meadow
out of sheer spirits at being free; and I did all by turns.
Jerry seemed to be quite as happy as I was. He sat down by
a bank under a shady tree, and listened to the birds, then he
sang himself, and read out of the little brown book he is so
176 Black Beauty.

fond of, then wandered round the meadow and down by a little
brook, where he picked the flowers and the hawthorn, and: tied
them up with long sprays of ivy; then he gave me a good feed
of the oats which he had brought with him; but the time
seemed all too short. I had not been in a field since I left
poor Ginger at Earlshall.
We came home gently, and Jerry’s first words were as, we
came into the yard, “‘ Well, Polly, I have not lost my Sunday
after all, for the birds were singing hymns in every bush, and. I
joined in the service ; and as for Jack, he was like a young

colt.”
When he handed Dolly the flowers, she jumped about for

joy.



AISA)
fyi 2 ¥

he







GAR
S99 avs “Re Sy.

ff Elio M6,

Ai i on te yj ae





Ah a ae

era

*OR ROLL OVER ON MY BACK.”


CHAPTER XXXVIII.
DOLLY AND A REAL GENTLEMAN.

HE winter came in early, with a great
deal of cold and wet. There was
snow, or sléet, or rain, almost every
day for weeks, changing only for
keen driving winds or sharp frosts.
The horses all felt it very much.
When it is a dry cold, a couple of
good thick rugs will keep the warmth
in us; but when it is soaking rain,
they soon get wet through and are

no good. Some of the drivers had a waterproof cover

to throw over, which was a fine thing; but some of the
men were so poor that they could not protect either them-
selves or their horses, and many of them suffered very much
that winter. When we horses had worked half the day we

‘went to our dry stables, and could rest; whilst they had to

sit on their boxes, sometimes staying out as late as one or two

o’clock in the morning, if they had a party to wait for.

When the streets were slippery with frost or snow, that was
the worst of all for us horses. One mile of such travelling, with
a weight to draw, and no firm footing, would take more out of
us than four on a good road; every nerve and muscle of our
bodies is on the strain to keep our balance; and added to this,
the fear of falling is more exhausting than anything else. It
‘the roads are very bad indeed, our shoes are roughed, but that
makes us feel'nervous at first.



N
178 Black Beauty.

When the weather was very bad, many of the men would go
and sit in the tavern close by, and get someone to watch for
them ; but they often lost a fare in that way, and could not, as
Jerry said, be there without spending money. He never went
to the “ Rising Sun;” there was .a coffee-shop near, where he
now and then went; or he bought of ah old man who came to
our rank with tins of hot coffee and‘pies. It was his opinion
that spirits and beer made a man colder afterwards, and that
dry clothes, good food, cheerfulness, and a comfortable wife at
home, were the best things to keep a cabman warm. Polly
always supplied him with something to eat when he could not
get home, and sometimes he would see little Dolly peeping from
the corner of the street,.to make sure if “ father” was on the
stand. Ifshe saw him, she would run off at full speed and
soon come back with something in a tin or basket—some hot
soup or pudding that Polly had ready. It was wonderful how
such a little thing could get safely across the street, often
thronged with horses and carriages ; but she was a brave little
maid, and felt it quite an honour to bring “father’s first course,”
as he used to call it. She was a general favourite on the stand,
and there was not a man who would not have seen her safely
' across the street, if Jerry had not been able to do it.

One cold windy day Dolly had brought Jerry a basin of
something hot, and was standing by him whilst he ate it. He
had scarcely begun, when a gentleman, walking towards us very
fast, held up his umbrella. Jerry touched his hat in return, gave
the basin to Dolly, and was taking off my cloth, when the
gentleman, hastening up, cried out, ‘‘ No, no, finish your soup,
my friend ; I have not much time to spare, but I can wait till
you have done, and'set your little girl safe on the pavement.”
So saying, he seated himself in the cab. Jerry thanked him
kindly, and came back to Dolly. -

‘* There, Dolly, that’s a gentleman ; that’s a real gentleman,
Dolly. He has got time and thought for the comfort of a poor
cabman and a little girl.”

Jerry finished his soup, set the child across, and then took
Dolly and a Real Gentleman. 179

his orders to drive to ‘Clapham Rise.’’ Several times after
that the same gentleman took our cab. .I think he was very
fond of dogs and horses, for whenever we took him to his own
door, two or three dogs would come bounding out to meet him.
Sometimes he came round and patted me, saying, in his quiet,
pleasant way, “This horse has got a good master, and he
deserves it.” It was a very rare thing for anyone to notice the
horse that had been working for him. I have known ladies do
it now and then, and this gentleman and one or two others
have given me a pat and a kind word; but ninety-nine out of a
hundred would as soon think of patting the steam-engine that
drew the train. :

This gentleman was not young, and there was a forward

_ stoop in his shoulders as if he was always going at something.
His lips were thin, and close shut, though they had a very
pleasant smile; his eye was keen, and there was something in
his jaw and the motion of his head that made one think he was
very determined in anything he set about. His voice was
pleasant and kind ; any horse would trust that voice, though it.
was just as decided as everything else about him.

One day he and another gentleman took our cab. They
stopped at a shop in R Street, and whilst his friend went
in, he stood at the door. A little ahead of us on the other side
of the street a cart with two very fine horses was standing
before some wine vaults ; the carter was not with them, and I
cannot tell how long they had been standing, but they seemed
to think they had waited long enough, and began to move off.
Before they had gone many paces, the carter came running out
and caught them. He seemed furious at their having moved,
and with whip and rein punished them brutally, even beating
them about the head. Our gentleman saw it all, and stepping
quickly across the street, said, in a decided voice—

“If you don’t stop that directly, I’ll-have you summoned for
leaving your horses and for brutal:conduct.”

The man, who had clearly been drinking, poured forth some

- abusive language, but he left off knocking the horses about, and

N 2


180 Black Beauty.

taking the reins, got into his cart ; meantime our friend had
quietly taken a note-book from his pocket, and looking at
the name and address painted on the cart, he wrote something
down.

“What do you want with that?” brown: the carter, as he
cracked his whip and was moving on. Anod,andagrim smile,
was the only answer he got.

On returning to the cab, our friend was joined by his com-
panion, who said laughingly, ‘I should have thought, Wright,
you had enough business of. your own to look after, without
troubling yourself about other people’s horses and servants.”

Our friend stood still fora moment, and throwing his head
a little back, ‘‘Do you know why this world is as bad as it
is?”

“No,” said the ieee

“Then I’ll-tell you. It is because people think only about
their own business, and won’t trouble themselves to stand up
for the oppressed, nor bring the wrong-doer to light. I never
see a wicked thing like this without doing what I can, and
many a master has thanked me for letting him know how his
horses have been used.”

‘*T wish there were more ee like you, sir,” said Jerry,
“for they are wanted badly enough in this city.”

After this we continued our. journey, and as they got out
of the cab, our friend was saying, “‘ My doctrine is this, that if
we see cruelty or wrong that we have the power to stop, and
do nothing, we make ourselveg sharers in the guilt.”


CHAPTER XXXIX.
SEEDY SAM.

» SHOULD say that for a cab-horse I was very
well off indeed; my driver was my owner,
and it was his interest to treat me well, and
not overwork me, even had he not been so
good a man as he was; but there were a
great many horses which belonged to the
large cabsowners, who let them out to their

drivers for somuch moneyaday. As the horses did not belong

to these men, the only thing they thought of was, how. to get
their money out of them, first, to pay the master, and then to
provide for their own living, and a dreadful time some of these
horses had of it. Of course I understood but little, but it was.

often talked over on the stand, and the Governor, who was a

kind-hearted man, and fond of horses, would sometimes speak

up if one came in very much jaded or ill-used.

~ One day, a shabby, miserable-looking driver, who went by the

name of ‘‘ Seedy Sam,” brought in his horse looking dreadfully

beat, and the Governor said,—

‘You and your horse look more fit for the police station than
for this rank.”

The man flung his tattered rug over the horse, turned full
round upon the Governor, and said, in a voice that sounded
almost desperate,—

e “If the police have any business with the matter, it ought


182 Black Beauty,

to be with the masters who charge us so much, or with the
fares that are fixed so low. If a man has to pay eighteen
shillings a day for the use’ of a cab and two horses, as many of
us have to do in the season, and must. make that up before we
earn a penny for ourselves—I say, ’tis more than hard work ;
nine shillings a day to get out of each horse, before you begin
to get your own living ; you know that’s true, and if the horses
don’t work we must starve, and I and my children have known
what that is before now. I’ve six of ’em, and only one earns
anything; Iam on the stand fourteen or
sixteen hours a day, and I haven’t had a
Sunday these ten or twelve weeks; you
know, Skinner never gives a day if he can
help it, and if I don’t work hard, tell me
who does! I want a warm coat and a
macintosh, but with so many to feed, how
can a man get it? Ihad to pledge my
clock a week ago to pay Skinner, and I shall
never see it again.”

Some of the other drivers stood round
nodding their heads, and saying he was
right. The man went on,—

“You that have your own horses and
cabs, or drive for good masters, have a
chance of getting on, and a chance of
doing right; I haven’t. -We can’t charge
more than sixpence a mile after the first,
within the four-mile radius. This very
morning I had to goa clear six miles and only took three shillings.
I could not get a return fare, and had to come all the way back;
there’s twelve miles for the horse and three shillings for me.
After that I had a three-mile fare, and there were bags and
boxes enough to have brought in a good many twopences if
they had been put outside; but you know how people do; all’
that could be piled up inside on the front seat, were put in, and
three heavy boxes went on the top, that was sixpence, and the



“SEEDY SAM.”
Seedy Sam. 183

fare one and sixpence ; then I got a return for a shilling; now
that makes eighteen miles for the horse and six shillings for
me ; there’s three shillings still for that horse to earn, and nine
shillings for the afternoon horse before I touch a penny. Of
course it is not always so bad. as that, but you know it often
is, and I say ’tis a mockery to tell 4 man that he must not
overwork his horse, for when a beast is downright tired, there’s
nothing but the whip that will keep his legs agoing—you can’t
help yourself—you must put your wife and children before the
horse, the masters must look to that, we can’t. I don’t ill-use
my horse for the sake of it; none of you can say I do.
There’s wrong lays somewhere—never a day’s rest—never a
quiet hour with the wife and children. I often feel like an old
man, though I’m only forty-five. You know how quick some
of the gentry are to suspect us of cheating and over-charging ;
why, they stand with their purses in their hands, counting it
over to a penny, and looking at us as if we were pickpockets.
I wish some of’em had got to sit on my box sixteen hours a day,
and get a living out of it, and eighteen shillings beside, and
that in all weathers; they would not be so uncommon particular
-never to give us a sixpence over, or to cram all the luggage
inside. Of course, some of’em tip us pretty handsome now and
then, or else we could not live, but you can’t depend upon that.”

The men who stood round, much approved this speech, and
‘one of them said, “‘It is desperate hard, and if a man some-
times does what is wrong, it is no wonder, and if he gets a dram
too much, who’s to blow him up?”

Jerry had taken no part in this conversation, but I never saw
his face look so sad before. The Governor had stood with both
his hands in his pockets; now he took his handkerchief out cf
his hat, and wiped his forehead.

“-You’ve beaten me, Sam,” he said, “ for it’s all true, and I
‘won’t cast it up to you any more about the police; it was the
look in that horse’s eye that came over me. It is hard lines
for man, and it is hard lines for beast, and who’s to mend it
Idon’t know; but any way you might tell the poor beast that
184 Black Beauty.

you were sorry to take it out of him in that way. Sometimes a
kind word is all we can give ’em, poor brutes, and ’tis wonder-.
ful what they do understand.”

_ A-few mornings after this talk, a new man came on the stand.
with Sam’s cab.

“ Halloo!” said one, ‘ what’s up with Seedy Sam?”

“ He’s ill in bed,” said the man; “ he was taken last night in
the yard, and could scarcely crawl home. His wife sent a boy
this morning to say, his father was in a high fever and could.
not get out; so I’m here instead.”

The next morning the same man came again.

‘How is Sam ?” inquired the Governor.

‘“‘ He’s gone,” said the man.

‘‘What, gone? You don’t mean to say he’s dead?”

“ Just snuffed out,” said the other; ‘‘ he died at four o’clock:
this morning; all yesterday he was raving—raving about
Skinner, and having no Sundays. ‘I never had a Sunday’s.
rest,’ these were his last words.”

No one spoke for awhile, and then the Governor said, “ I
tell you what, mates, this is a warning for us.”




CHAPTER XL.
POOR GINGER.

NE day, whilst our cab and many others
were waiting outside one of the Parks,
where music was playing, a shabby old
cab drove up beside ours. The horse was
an old worn-out chestnut, with an ill-kept
coat, and bones that showed plainly
through it, the knees knuckled over, and

the forelegs were very unsteady. I had been eating some hay,

and the wind rolled a little lock of it that way, and the poor

“creature put out her long thin neck and picked it up, and then

turned round and looked about for more. There was a hope-

less look in the dull eye that I could not help noticing, and
then, as I was thinking where I had seen that horse before,
she looked full at me and said, “ Black Beauty, is that you?”

It was Ginger! but how changed! The beautifully arched
and glossy neck.was now straight, and lank, and fallen in, the
clean straight legs and delicate fetlocks were swelled; the
joints were grown out of shape with hard work ; the face, that
was once so full of spirit and life, was now full of suffering, and
I could tell by the heaving of her sides, and her frequent
cough, how bad her breath was.

Our drivers were standing together a little way off, so I
sidled up to her a step or.two, that we might have a little quiet
talk. It was a sad tale that she had to tell.

After a twelvemonth’s run off at Earlshall, she was con-


186 Black Beauty.

sidered to be fit for work again, and was sold to a gentleman.
For a little while she got on very well, but after a longer gallop
than usual, the old strain returned, and after being rested and
doctored, she was again sold. In this way she changed hands
several times, but always getting lower down. .

“And so at last,” said she, ‘I was bought by a man who

fi
i

Daan
ENN
wi |



‘““THE HEAD HUNG OUT OF THE CART TAIL.”

keeps a number of cabs and horses, and lets them out. ‘You
look well off, and Iam glad of it, but I could not tell you what
my life has been. When they found out my weakness, they
said I was not worth what they gave for me, and that I must
go into one of the low cabs, and just be used up; that is what
they are doing, whipping and working with never one thought
of what I suffer—they paid for me, and must get it out of
Poor Ginger. 187

me, they say. The man who hires me now, pays.a deal of
money to the owner every day, and so he has to get it out of
me too; and so it’s all the week round and round, with never
a Sunday rest.”

I said, “‘ You. used to stand up for eee if you were ill-
used.” ie

“Ah!” she bid: “J did once, but it’s no use; men are
strongest, and if they are cruel and have no feeling, there is
nothing that we can do, but just bear.it, bear it on and on to the
end. I wish the end was come, I wish I was dead... I have
seen dead horses, and I am sure they do not suffer pain; I wish
I may drop down dead at my work, and not be sent off to the

_ knacker’s.”

I was very much troubled, and I put my nose up to hers, but
I could say nothing to comfort her. I think she was pleased
to see me, for she said, ‘You are the only friend I ever
had.”

Just then her driver came up, and with a tug at her mouth,
backed her out of the line and drove off, leaving me very sad
indeed.

A short time after this, a cart with a dead horse in it passed our
cab-stand. The head hung out of the cart-tail, the lifeless
tongue was slowly dropping with blood ; and the sunken eyes !
but I can’t speak of them, the sight was too dreadful. It wasa
chestnut horse with a long thin neck. I saw a white streak
down the forehead. I believe it was Ginger; I hoped it was,
for then her troubles would be over. Oh! if men were more
merciful, they would shoot us before we came to such misery,


CHAPTER XLI.

THE BUTCHER.





Y this time I had seen a great
deal of trouble amongst the
horses in London, and much
of it that might. have been
prevented by a little common
sense. We horses do not
mind hard work if we are
treated reasonably; and I am
sure there are many driven by
quite poor men who have a
happier life than I had, when
I used to go in the Countess of W
carriage, with my silver-mounted ae
and high feeding.

It often went to my heart to see how the
little ponies were used, straining along with
heavy loads, or staggering under heavy
blows from some low cruel boy. Once I saw a
{ little grey pony with a thick mane and a pretty

head, and so much like Merrylegs, that if I had not been
| in harness, I should have neighed to him. He was doing
\
}



his best to pull a heavy cart, while a strong rough boy was
cutting him under the belly with his whip, and chucking
cruelly at his little mouth. Could itbe Merrylegs? It was
just like him; but then Mr. Blomefield was never to sell him,
and I think he would not do it ; but this might have been quite
The Butcher, 189

as good a little fellow, and had as happy.a place when he was
young. ;

I often noticed the great speed at which butchers’ horses
were made to go, though I did not know why it was so, till one
day when we had to wait some time in “St. John’s Wood.”
There was a butcher’s shop next door, and as’ we were stand-
ing, a butcher’s cart came dashing up at a great pace. The
horse was hot, and much exhausted; he hung his head down,
while his heaving sides and trembling legs showed how hard
he had been driven. The lad jumped out of the cart and was
getting the basket, when the master came out of the shop
much displeased. After looking at the horse, he turned
angrily to the lad :—

‘* How many times shall I tell you not to drive in this way?
You ruined the last horse and broke his wind, and you are
going to ruin this in the same way. If you were not. my
own son, I would dismiss you. on the spot; it is a disgrace to
have a horse brought to the shop in a condition ‘like that; you
are liable to be.taken up by thé police for such driving, and if
you are, you need not look to me for bail, for I have spoken to
you till I am tired; you must look out for yourself.”

During this speech, the boy had stood by, sullen and dogged,
but. when his father ceased, he broke out angrily. It wasn’t
his fault, and he wouldn’t take the blame, he was only going
by orders all the time.

“You always say, ‘Now be quick; now look sharp!’ and
' when I go to the houses, one wants a leg of mutton for an early
dinner, and’ I must be back with it ina quarter of an hour.
Another cook had forgotten to order the beef; I must go and
fetch it and be back in no time, or the mistress will scold ; and
the housekeeper says they have company coming unexpectedly,
and must have some chops sent up directly; and the lady at
No. 4, in the Crescent, ever orders her dinner till the meat
comes in for lunch, and it’s nothing but hurry, hurry, all the
time. Ifthe gentry would think of what they want, and order
their meat the day before, there need not be this blow up!”


. ‘4
1
‘AT LAST AFTER A TERRIBLE STRUGGLE, I THREW HIM OFF BACKWARDS.”
[See page 31.
The Butcher. oe 191

“T wish to goodness they would,” said the butcher ; “‘ ’twould
save me a wonderful deal of harass, and I could suit my
customers much better if I knew beforehand—but there—
what’s the use of talking—who ever thinks of a butcher’s
convenience, or a butcher’s horse? Now then, take him in,
and look to him well: mind, he does not go out again to-day,
and if anything else is wanted, you must carry it yourself in the
basket.” With that he went in, and the horse was led away.

But all boys are not cruel. I have seen some as fond of
their pony or donkey as if it had been a favourite ‘dog, and the
little creatures have worked away as cheerfully and willingly
for their young drivers as I work for Jerry. It may be
hard work sometimes, but a friend’s hand and voice make it
easy.

There was a young coster-boy who came up our street with.
greens and potatoes; he had an old pony, not very handsome,
but the cheerfullest and pluckiest little thing I ever saw, and to
see how fond those two were of each other, was a treat. The
pony followed his master like a dog, and when he got into his
cart, would trot off without a whip or a word, and rattle down
the street as merrily as if he had come out of the Queen’s
stables. Jerry liked the boy, and called him “Prince Charlie,”
for he said he would make a king of drivers some day.

There was an old man, too, who used to come up our street
with a little coal cart; he wore a coal-heaver’s hat, and looked
rough and black. He and his old horse uséd to plod together
along the street, like two good partners who understood each
other; the horse would stop of his own accord, at the doors
where they took coal of him; he used to keep one ear bent
towards his master. The old man’s cry could be heard up the
street long before he came near. I never knew what he said,
but the children called him “‘ Old Ba-a-ar Hoo,” for it sounded
like’ that. Polly took her coal cf him, and was very friendly,
and Jerry said it was a comfort to think how happy an old
horse might be in a poor place.




CHAPTER XLII.
THE ELECTION.

S we came into the yard one arternoon, Polly
came out, “Jerry! I’ve had Mr. B—— here
asking about your vote, and he wants to hire
your cab for the election: he will call for an
answer,” -

* Well, Polly, you may say that my cab will
be otherwise engaged; I should not like to
have it pasted over with their great bills, and
as to make Jack and Captain race about to
the public-houses to bring up half-drunken

voters, why, I think ’twould be an insult to the horses. No,

I shan’t do it!”

**T suppose you'll vote for the gentleman? He said he was
of your politics.”

‘So he is in some things, but I shall not vote for him, Polly ;
you know what his trade is?”

“Yes.” te

“Well, a man who gets rich by that trade, may be all very
well in some ways, but he is blind as to what working-men
The Election. 193
a

want: I could not in my conscience send him up to make the
.laws. I dare say they’ll be angry, but every man must do
what he thinks to be the best for his country.”

On the morning before the election, Jerry was putting me
into the shafts, when Dolly came into the: yard sobbing. and
crying, with her little blue frock and white pinafore spattered
all over with mud.

“Why, Dolly, what is the matter? ”

“Those naughty boys,” she sobbed, ‘‘ have thrown the dirt
all over me, and called mea little ragga—ragga—”’

“They called her a little blue raggamuffin, father,” said
Harry, who ran in looking very angry; ‘‘ but I have given it to
them, they won’t insult my sister again. I have given them a
thrashing they will remember; a set of cowardly, rascally,
orange blackguards! ”

_ Jerry kissed the child and said, ‘‘ Run in to mother, my pet,
and tell her I think you had better stay at home to-day and
help her.”

Then turning gravely to Harry,—

““My boy, I hope you will always defend your sister, and
give anybody who insults her a good thrashing—that is as it
should be ; but mind, I won’t have any election blackguarding
on my premises. There are as many blue blackguards as there
are orange, and as many white as there are purple, or any other
colour, and I won’t have any of my family mixed up with it.
Even women and children are ready to quarrel for the sake
of a colour, and not one in ten of them knows what it is
about.”

“ Why, father, I thought blue was for Liberty.”

“My boy, Liberty does not come from colours, they only
show party, and all the liberty you can get out of them is,
liberty to get drunk at other people’s expense, liberty to ride
to the poll in a dirty old cab, liberty to abuse any one that does
not wear your colour, and to shout yourself hoarse at what you ~
only half understand—that’s your liberty !”

‘“* Oh, father, you are laughing.”
194 Black Beauty.

‘‘No, Harry, I am serious, and I am ashamed to see how
men go on that ought to know better. An election is a very
serious thing; at least, it ought to be, and every man ought to
vote according to his conscience, and let his neighbour do the
same, '




CHAPTER XLIII.
A FRIEND IN NEED.

T last came the election day; there was
no lack of work for Jerry and me. First
came a stout puffy gentleman with a
carpet bag; he wanted to go to the
Bishopsgate Station:. then we were
called by a party who wished to be taken
to the Regent’s Park; and next we
were wanted in a side street where a
timid anxious old lady was waiting to

be taken to the Bank: there we had to stop to take her back

again, and just as we had set her down, a red-faced gentleman
with a handful of papers, came running up out of breath, and
before Jerry could get down, he had opened the door, popped him-
self in, and called out ‘‘ Bow Street Police Station, quick!”
so off we went with him, and when after another turn or two we
came back, there was no other cab on the stand. Jerry put
on my nose-bag, for as he said, “‘ We must eat when we can on
such days as these ; so munch away, Jack, and make the best
of your time, old boy.” ;

I found I had a good feed of crushed oats wetted up with

a little bran; this would be a treat any day, but very refresh-

ing then. Jerty was so thoughtful and kind—what horse

- would not do his best for such a master? Then he took out

one of Polly’s meat pies, and standing near me, he began to

O 2


196 Black Beauty.

eat it. The streets were very. full, and the cabs with the
Candidates’ colours on them were dashing about through the
crowd as if life and limb were of no consequence; we saw
two people knocked down that day, and one was a woman.
The horses were having a bad time of it, poor things! but the
voters inside thought nothing of that, many of them were
half drunk, hurrahing out of the cab windows if their own
party came by. It was the first election I had seen, ‘and I
don’t want to be in another, though I have heard things are
better now.

Jerry and I had not eaten many mouthfuls before a poor
young woman, carrying a heavy child, came along the street.
She was looking this way, and that way, and seemed quite
bewildered. Presently she made her way up to Jerry, and
asked if he could tell her the way to St. Thomas’s Hospital,
and how far it was to get there. She had come from the
country that morning, she said, in a market cart; she did not
know about the election, and was quite a stranger in London.
She had got an order for the Hospital for her little boy. The
child was crying with a feeble pining cry.

‘Poor little fellow!’’ she said, “‘ he suffers a deal of pain ;
he is four years old, and can’t walk any more than a baby;
but the doctor said if I could get him into the Hospital, he
might get well; pray, sir, how far is it? and which way is it?”

“‘ Why, missis,” said Jerry, “you can’t get there walking
through crowds like this! why, it is three miles away, and that
child is heavy.”

‘Yes, bless him, he is, but I am strong, thank God, and if I
knew the way, I think I should get on somehow: please tell
me the way.”

You can’t do it,” said Jerry, you might be knocked down
and the child be run over. Now, look here, just-get into this
cab, and I’ll drive you safe to the Hospital: don’t you see the
rain is coming on?”

“No, sir, no, I can’t do that, thank you, I have only just
money enough to get back with: please tell me the way.”


“SIX OR EIGHT MEN LEAPED THEIR HORSES CLEAN OVER.” [See page 8.
198 . Black Beauty.

‘Look you here, missis,” said Jerry, ‘I’ve got a wife and
dear children at home, and I know a father’s feelings: now
get you into that cab, and I’ll take you there for nothing; I’d

, be ashamed of myself to let a:woman anda sick child runa

risk like that.”
“Heaven bless you!” said the woman,-and burst into

. tears.

“There, there, cheer up, my dear, I’ll’ soon take you there;

* come, let me put you inside.”

As Jerry went to open the door, two men with colours: in
their hats and button-holes, ran up, calling out, “Cab!”

“Engaged,” cried Jerry; but one of the men, pushing past
the woman, sprang into the cab, followed by the other. Jerry
looked as stern as a policeman: “ This cab is already engaged,
gentlemen, by that lady.”

“Lady!” said one of them; “oh! she can wait: our
business is very important, beside we were in first, it is our
right, and we shall stay in.”

A droll smile came over Jerry’s face as he shut the door
upon them. “All right, gentlemen, pray stay in as long as it
suits you: I can wait whilst you rest yourselves 3” and turn-
ing his: back upon them, he walked up to the young woman,
who was standing near me. ‘“ They'll soon be gone,” he said,
laughing, ‘‘ don’t trouble yourself, my dear.”

And they soon were gone, for when they understood

Jerry’s dodge, they got out, calling him all sorts of bad-names

and blustering about his number, and getting a summons.
After this little stoppage we were soon on our way to the

| Hospital, going as much as possible through bye streets.
. Jerry rung the great bell, and helped the young woman
:. out.

“Thank you a thousand times,” she said; “I could never
have got here alone.”

“ You're kindly welcome, and I hope the dear child will soon
be better.” A tanue hses =

He watched her go in at the door, and gently he said to
A Friend in Need. 199

himself, ‘Inasmuch as ye have done it to one of the least of
these.”” Then he patted my neck, which was always his way
when anything pleased him.

The rain was now coming down fast, and just as‘we were
leaving the Hospital, the door opened again, and the porter.

‘called out, “Cab!” We stopped, and a lady came down the
steps. Jerry seemed to know her at once; she put back her
veil and said, “ Barker ! Jeremiah Barker! isityou? Iamvery
glad to find you here; you are just the friend I want, for it is
very difficult to get a cab in this part of London to-day.”

“T shall be proud to serve you, ma’am, I am right glad
I happened to be here; where may I take you to, ma’am ?”

“To the Paddington Station, and then, if we are in good
time, as I think we shall be, you shall tell me all about Mary
and the children.”

We got to the station in good time, and being under
shelter, the lady stood a good while talking to Jerry. I found
she had been Polly’s mistress, and after many inquiries. about
her, she said—

“‘ How do you find the cab-work suit youin winter? I know
Mary was rather anxious about you last year.”

“Yes, ma’am, she was; I had a bad cough that followed
me up quite into the warm weather, and when I am kept out
late; she does worry herself a good deal. You see, ma’am, it
is all hours and all-weathers, and that does try a man’s con-
stitution; but I am getting on pretty well, and I should feel
quite lost if I had not horses to look after. I was brought up
to it, and I am afraid I should not do so well at anything
else.”

‘‘ Well, Barker,” she said, “it would be a great pity that
you should seriously risk your health in this work, not only for
your own, but for Mary and the children’s sake: there are
many places where good drivers or good grooms are wanted ;
and if ever you think you ought to give up this cab work, let
me:know. Then sending some kind messages to Mary, she
put something into his hand, saying, “‘ There is five shillings
200 Black Beauty.

each for the two children; Mary will know how to spend
it.”

Jerry thanked her and seemed much pleased, and turning
out of the station, we at last reached home, and I, at least, was
tired.



.







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CHAPTER XLIV.

i ‘4, 2) OLD CAPTAIN AND HIS SUCCESSOR.

APTAIN and I were great friends.
He was a noble old fellow, and he
was very good company. I never
thought that he would have to leave
his home and go down the hill, but
his turn came; and this was how it
happened. I was not there, but I
_ heard all about it.
He and Jerry had taken a party
to the great railway station over London Bridge, and were
coming back, somewhere between the Bridgeand the Monument,
when Jerry saw a brewer’s empty dray coming along, drawn
by two powerful horses. The drayman was lashing his horses
with his heavy whip; the dray was light, and they started offat
a furious rate; the man had no control over them, and the street
was full of traffic; one young girl was knocked down and run
over, and the next moment they dashed up against our cab ;
both the wheels were torn off, and the eab was thrown over.
Captain was dragged down, the shafts splintered, and one of
them ran into his side. Jerry too was thrown, but was
only bruised ; nobcdy could téll how he escaped, he always
said ’twas a miracle. When poor Captain was got up, he
was found to be very much cut and knocked about. Jerry led
him home gently, and a sad sight it was’ to see the blood
202 Black Beauty.

soaking into his white coat, and dropping from his side and —
shoulder. The drayman was proved to be very drunk; and
was fined, and the brewer had to pay damages to our master ;
but there was no one to pay damages to poor Captain.

The farrier and Jerry did the best they could to ease his
pain, and make him comfortable. The fly had to be mended,
and for severai days I did not go out, and Jerry earned
nothing. The first time we went to the stand after the
accident, the Governor came up to hear how Captain was.

“ He’ll never get over it,” said Jerry, “‘at least not for my
work, so the farrier said this morning. He says he may do
for carting, and that sort of work. It has put me out very
much. Carting indeed! I’ve seen what horses come to at
that work round London. I only wish all the drunkards could
be put in a lunatic asylum, instead of being allowed to run
foul of sober people. If they would break their ozz bones,
and smash their ow carts, and lame their owz horses, that
would be their own affair, and we might let them alone, but it
seems to me that the innocent always suffer} and then they
talk about compensation! You can’t make eompensation—
there’s all the trouble, and vexation, and loss of time, besides
losing a good horse that’s like an old friend—it’s nonsense
talking of compensation! If there’s one devil that I should
like to see in the bottomless pit more than another, it’s the
drink devil.” .

**T say, Jerry,” said the Governor, “‘ you are treading pretty
hard on my toes, you know; I’m not so good as you are, more
shame for me, I wish I was.”

“ Well,” said Jerry, “why don’t you cut with it, Governor ?.
you are too good a man to be the slave of such a thing.”

“Tm a great fool, Jerry, but I tried once for two days,
and I thought I should have died: how did you do?”

* T had hard work at it for seyeral weeks ; You see, I never
did get drunk, but I found that I was not my.own master,
and that when the craving came on, it was hard work to say
‘no.’ I saw that one of us must knock under—-the drink
Old Captacn and his Successor. 203

devil or Jerry Barker, and I said that it should not be Jerry
Barker, God helping me: but it was a struggle, and I wanted
all the help I could get, for till I tried to break the habit, I did
not know how strong it was; but then Polly took such pains
that I should have good food, and when the craving came on,
I used to get a cup of coffee, or some peppermint, or read a
bit in my book, and that was a help to me: sometimes I had
to say over and over to nuyself, ‘ Give up the drink or lose your
soul? Give up the drink or break Polly’s heart?’ . But thanks
be to God, and my dear wife, my chains were broken, and now
for ten years I have not tasted a drop, and never wish for it.”

_“T’ve a great mind to try at it,” said Grant, “ for ’tis a poor
thing not to be one’s own master.”

** Do, Governor, do, you’ll never repent it, and what a help
it would be to some of the poor fellows in our rank if they saw
you do without it. I know there’s two or three would like to
keep out of that tavern if they could.”

At first Captain seemed. to do well, but he was a very old
horse, and it was only his wonderful constitution, and Jerry’s
care, that had kept him up at the cab-work so long; now he
broke down very much. The farrier said he might mend up
enough to sell for a few pounds, but Jerry said, no! a few
pounds got by selling a good old servant into hard work and
misery would canker all the rest of his money, and he thought
the kindest thing he could do for the fine old fellow would be
to put a sure bullet through his heart, and then he would
never suffer more; for he did not know where to find a kind
master for the rest of his days.

The day after this was decided, Harry took me to the forge
for some new shoes; when I returned, Captain was gone. I
and the family all felt it very much. ;

Jerry had now to look out for another horse, and he soon
heard of one through an acquaintance who was under-groom
in a nobleman’s stables. He was a valuable young horse, but
he had run away, smashed into another carriage, flung his
lordship out, and so cut and blemished himself that he was no
204 Black Beauty.

longer fit for a gentleman’s stables, and the coachman had
orders to look round, and sell him as well as he could.

“T can do with high spirits,” said Jerry, ‘if a horse is not
vicious or hard-mouthed.”

“There is nota bit of vice in him,” said the man, “his
mouth is very tender, and I think myself, that was the cause of
- the accident ; you see he had just been clipped, and the weather
was bad, and he had not had exercise enough, and when he did
go out, he was as full of spring asa balloon. Our governor
(the coachman, I mean) had him harnessed in as tight and
strong as he could, with the martingale, and the bearing rein, a
very sharp curb, and the reins put in at the bottom bar; it is
my belief that it made the horse mad, being tender in the mouth
and so full of spirit.”

“* Likely enough ; I’ll come and see him,” said Jerry.

The next day, Hotspur—that was his name—came home;
he was a fine brown horse, without a white hair in him, as tall
as Captain, with a very handsome head and only five years old.
I gave him a friendly greeting by way of good fellowship, but
did not ask him any questions. The first night he was very
restless ; instead of lying down, he kept jerking his halter rope
up and down through the ring, and knocking the block about
against the manger till I could not sleep. However, the next
day, after five or six hours in the cab, he came in quiet and
sensible. Jerry patted and talked to him a good deal, and very
soon they understood each other, and Jerry said that with an
easy bit, and plenty of work, he would be as gentle as a lamb;
and that it was an ill wind that blew nobody good, for if his
lordship had lost a hundred-guinea favourite, the cabman had
gained a good horse with all his strength in him.

Hotspur thought ita great come down to be a cab-horse,
and was disgusted at standing in the rank, but he confessed to
me at the end of the week, that an easy mouth, and a free
head, made up for a great deal, and after all, the work was not:
so degrading as having one’s head and tail fastened to each
other at the saddle. In fact, he settled in well, and Jerry liked
him very much.
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CHAPTER XLV.
JERRY’S NEW YEAR.

HRISTMAS and the New Year are very merry
times for some people; but for cabmen and
cabmen’s horses it is no holiday, though it
may be a harvest. There are so many

' parties, balls, and places of amusement open,
that the work is hard and often late. Some-
times driver and horse have to wait for hours

in the rain or frost, shivering with cold, whilst the merry people
within are dancing away tothe music. I wonder if the beautiful.
ladies ever think of the weary cabman waiting on his box, and
his patient beast standing, till his legs get stiff with cold.

I had most of the evening work, as I was well accustomed to
standing, and Jerry was also more afraid of Hotspur taking
cold. We had a great deal of late work in the Christmas week,
and Jerry’s cough was bad ; but however late we were, Polly
sat up for him, and came out with the lantern to meet him,
looking anxious and troubled.

On the evening of the New Year, we had to take two gentle-
men to a house in one of the West End Squares. We set
them down at nine o’clock and were told to come again at
eleven, “ But,” said one of them, “as it is a card party, you
may have to wait a few minutes, but don’t ‘be late.”

’ Asthe clock struck eleven we were at the door, for Jerry was

always punctual. The clock chimed the quarters—one, two;

three, and then struck twelve, but the door did not open.


206 Black Beauty,

The wind had been very changeable, with squalls of rain
during the day, but now it came on sharp driving sleet, which
seemed to come all the way round; it was very cold and there
was no shelter. Jerry got off his box and came and pulled one
of my cloths a little more over my neck; then he took a turn or
two up and down, stamping his feet ; then he began to beat his
arms, but that set him off coughing ; so he opened the cab door
and sat at the bottom with his feet on the pavement, and was a
little sheltered. Still the clock chimed the quarters, and no
one came. At half-past twelve, he rang the bell and asked the
servant if he would be wanted that night.

“Oh! yes, you’ll be wanted safe enough,” said the man, -
‘you must not go, it will soon be over,” and again Jerry sat
down, but his voice was so hoarse I could hardly hear him.

At a quarter past one the door opened, and the two gentle-
men came out; they got into the cab without a word, and told
Jerry where to drive, that was nearly two miles. My legs were
numbed with cold, and I thought I should have stumbled.
When the men got out, they never said they were sorry to have
kept. us waiting so long, but were angry at the charge:
however, as Jerry never charged more than was his due, so he
never took less, and they had to pay for the two hours
and a quarter waiting; but it was hard-earned money to
Jerry.

At last we got home; he could hardly speak, and his suet
was dreadful. Polly asked no questions, but opened the door
and held the lantern for him.

‘“Can’t I do something ?” she said.

“Yes, get Jack something warm, and then boil me some
gruel.”

This was in a hoarse whisper; he could hardly get his
breath, but he gave me a rub down as usual, and even went up
into the hayloft for an extra bundle of straw for my bed. Polly
brought me a warm mash that made me Comoran and then
they locked the door.

It was late the next morning before any one came, and then


““HE SPONGED MY SIDES A GOOD WHILE SO TENDERLY.” [See page 32.
208 Black Beauly.

it was only Harry. He cleaned us and fed us, and swept out
the stalls, then he put the straw back again as if it was Sunday.
He was very still, and neither whistled nor sang. At noon he
came again and gave us our food and water; this time Dolly
came with him; she was crying, and I could gather from
what they said, that Jerry was dangerously ill, and the doctor
said it was a bad case. So two days passed, and there was
great trouble indoors. We only saw Harry, and sometimes
Dolly. Ithink she came for company, for Polly was always
with Jerry, and he had to be kept very quiet.

On the third day, whilst Harry was in the stable, a tap
came at the door, and Governor Grant came in.

“I wouldn’t go to the house, my boy,” he said, but I want
to know how your father is.”

“ He is very bad,” said Harry, “he can’t be much worse;
they call it ‘bronchitis ;’ the doctor thinks it will turn one way
or another to-night.”

*‘ That’s bad, very bad,” said Grant, ocaiins his head; “I
know two men who died of that last week; it takes ’em off in
no time; but whilst there’s life there’s hope, so you must keep
up your spirits.”

“Yes,” said Harry quickly, ‘and the doctor said that father
had a better chance than most men, because he didn’t drink.
He said yesterday the fever was so high, that if father had been
a drinking man, it would have burnt him up like a piece of
paper; but I believe he thinks he will get over it; don’t you
think he will, Mr. Grant?”

The Governor looked puzzled.

“Tfthere’s any rule that good men should get over these
things, I am sure he will, my boy; he’s the best man I know.
T’ll look in early to-morrow.”

Early next morning he was there.

“Well?” said he.

“Father is better,” said Harry. ‘ Mother hopes he will get
over it.”

“Thank God!” said the Governor, “ and now you must keep
Jerry's New Year. 209

him warm, and keep his mind easy, and that brings me to the
horses ; you see, Jack will be all the better for the rest of a
week or two in a warm stable, and you can easily take him a
turn up and down the street to stretch his legs; but this young
one, if he does not get work, he will soon be all up ‘on
end, as you may say, and will be rather too much for you; and
when he does go out, there’ll be:an accident.”

“It is like that now,” said Harry, “I have kept him short of
corn, but he’s so full of spirit I don’t know what. to do with
him.”

, “Just so,” said Grant. ‘‘ Now look here, will you tell your
mother that if she is agreeable, I will come for him every day
till something is arranged, and take him for a good spell of
work, and whatever he earns, I’ll bring your mother half of it,
and that will help with the horses’ feed. Your father is in a
good club, I know, but that won’t keep the horses, and they’ll
be eating their heads off all this time: I'll come at. noon and
hear what she says,” and without waiting for Harry’s thanks,
he was gone.

At noon I think he went and saw Polly, for he and Har.
came to the stable together, harnessed Hotspur, and took him
out. ;

For a week or more he came for Hotspur, and when Harry
thanked him or said anything about his kindness, he laughed
it off, saying, it was all good luck for him, for his horses were
wanting a little rest which they would not otherwise have
had. .

Jerry grew better, steadily, but the doctor said that he must
never go back to the cab-work again if he wished to be an old
man. The children had many consultations together about
what father and mother. would do, and how they could help to
earn money.

One afternoon, Hotspur was brought in very wet and dirty.

‘‘The streets are nothing but slush,” said the Governor;
“it will give youa good warming, my boy, to get him clean
and dry.”

P
210 Black Beauty.

* All right, Governor,” said Harry, ‘I shall not leave him
till he-is ; you know I have been trained by my father.” —

‘“‘T wish all the boys had been trained like you,” said the
Governor. ;

While Harry was sponging off the mud from Hotspur’s.
body and legs, Dolly came in, looking very full of something.

Who lives at Fairstowe, Harry? Mother has got a letter
from Fairstowe ; she seemed so glad, and ran upstairs to father
with it.”

“Don’t you know? Why, it is the name of Mrs. Fowler’s
place—mother’s old mistress, you know—the lady that father

met last summer, who sent you and me five shillings each.”

“Oh! Mrs. Fowler; of course I know all about her, I
wonder what she is writing to mother about.”

‘‘ Mother wrote to her last week,” said Harry: “ you know
she told father if ever he gave up the cab-work, she would like
to know. I wonder what she says; run in and see, Dolly.”

Harry scrubbed away at Hotspur with a huish! huish! like
any old ostler.

In a few minutes Dolly came dancing into the stable.

“Oh! Harry, there never was anything so beautiful; Mrs.
Fowler says, we are to all go and live near her. There is a
cottage now empty that will just suit us, with a garden, and a
hen house, and apple trees, and everything ; and her coachman.
is going away in the spring, and then she will want father in.
his place; and there are good families round, where you can
get a place in the garden, or the stable, or as a page boy; and
there’s a good school for me; and mother is laughing and
crying by turns, and father does look so happy!”

“‘That’s uncommon jolly,” said Harry, “‘and just the right
thing, I should say ; it will suit father and mother both; but I
don’t intend to be a page boy with tight clothes and rows of
buttons. Ill be a groom or a gardener.”

It was quickly settled that as soon as Jerry was well enough,
they should remove to the country, and that the cab and
horses should be sold as soon as possible.
Jerry's New Vear. 211

. This was heavy news for me, for I was not young now, and
could not look for any improvement in my condition. Since I
left Birtwick I had never been so happy as with my dear
master, Jerry; but three years of cab-work, even under the
best conditions, will tell on one’s strength, and I felt that I
was not the horse that I had been.

Grant said at once that he would take Hotspur; and there
were men on the stand who would have bought me; but Jerry
said I should not go to cab-work again with just anybody, and
the Governor promised to find a place for me where I should
be comfortable.

_The day came for going away. Jerry had not been allowed
to go out yet, and I never saw him after that New Year’s eve.
Polly and the children came to bid me good-bye. ‘ Poor old
Jack! dear old Jack! I wish we could take you with us,” she
said, and then laying her hand on my mane, she put her face
close to my neck and kissed me. Dolly was crying and kissed
metoo. Harry stroked me a great deal, but said nothing, only
he seemed very sad, and so I was led away to my new place.




CHAPTER XLVI.

JAKES AND THE LADY.

WAS sold to a corn dealer and baker, whom Jerry
knew, and with him he thought I should have
good food and fair work. In the first he was quite
right, and if my master had always been on the
premises, I do not think I should have been over-
loaded, but there was a foreman who was always
hurrying and driving everyone, and frequently
when I had quite a full load, he would order

something else to be taken on. My carter, whose name was

Jakes, often said it was more than I ought to take, but the

other always overruled him: ‘’Twas no use going twice when

once would do, and he chose to get business forward.”

Jakes, like the other carters, always had the bearing rein up,
which prevented me from drawing easily, and by the time I had
been there three or four months, I found the work telling very
much on my strength.

One day, I was loaded more than usual, and part of the road
was a steep uphill: I used all my strength, but I could not get
on, and was obliged continually to stop. This did not please ~
my driver, and he laid his whip on badly. ‘“‘ Get on, you lazy
fellow,” he said, ‘‘ or I’ll make you.”

Again I started the heavy load, and struggled on a few yards ;


Jakes and the Lady. 213

again the whip came down, and again I struggled forward.
The pain of that great cart whip was sharp, but my mind was
hurt quite as much as my poor sides. To be punished and
abused when I was doing my very best was so hard, it took the
heart out of me. A third time he was flogging me cruelly,
when a lady stepped quickly up to him, and said in a sweet,
earnest volce—

“Oh! pray do not whip your good horse any more; I am
sure he is doing all he can, and the road is very steep, I am
sure he is doing his best.”

“If doing his best won’t get this load up, he must do some-
thing more than his best; that’s all I know, ma’am,” said
Jakes.

‘* But is it not a very heavy load?” she said.

‘Yes, yes, too heavy,” he said, ‘‘ but that’s not my fault, the
foreman came just as we were starting, and would have three
hundredweight: more put on to save him trouble, and I must .
get on with it as well as I can.”

He was raising his whip again, when the lady said—

“Pray, stop, I think I can help you if you will let me.”

The man laughed.

“You see,” she said, ‘‘ you do not give him a fair chance; he
cannot use all his power with his head held back as it is with
that bearing rein; if you would take it off, I am sure he would
do better—do try it,” she said persuasively, ‘“‘I should be very
glad if you would.” Oo,

“Well, well,” said Jakes, with a short laugh, “ anything to
please a lady of course. How far would you wish it down,
ma’am?”

*‘ Quite down, give him his head altogether.”

The rein was taken off, andin a moment I put my head down
to my very knees. What a comfort it was! Then I tossed it
up and down several times to get the aching stiffness out of my
neck.

“ Poor fellow! that is what you wanted,” said she, patting
and stroking me with her gentle hand; ‘and now if you will
\

214 Black Beauty.

speak kindly to him and lead him on, I believe he will be able
to do better.”

Jakes took the rein—‘‘ Come on, Blackie.” I put down my
head, and threw my whole weight against the collar; I spared
no strength ; the load moved on, and I pulled it steadily up the
hill, and then stopped tc take breath.

The lady had walked along the footpath, and now came
across into the road. She stroked and patted my neck, as I
had not been patted for many a long day.

“You see he was quite willing when you gave him the
chance; I am sure he is a fine-tempered creature, and I dare
say has known better days. You won't put that rein on
again, will you ?” for he was = Just going to hitch it up on the
old plan.

“Well, ma’am, I can’t deny tia having his head has helped
him up the hill, and I’ll remember it another time, and thank
you, ma’am; but if he went without a bearing-rein, I should
be the laughing-stock of all the carters; it is the fashion, you
see.”

“Ts it not better,” she said, ‘to lead a good fashion, than
to follow a bad one? A great many gentlemen do not use
bearing reins now ; our carriage horses have not worn them
for fifteen years, and work with much less fatigue than those
who have them; besides,” she’ added in a very serious voice,
“‘we have no right to distress any of God’s creatures without a
very good reason; we call them dumb animals, and so they are,
for they cannot tell us how they feel, but they do not suffer less
because they have no words. But I must not detain you now;
I thank you for trying my plan with your good horse, and Iam:
sure you will find it far better than the whip. Good day,” and
with another soft pat on my neck she stepped lightly across the
path, and I saw her no more.

“That was a real lady, I’ll be bound, for it,” said Jakes to
himself ; “she spoke just as polite as if T was a gentleman, and

[ll try her plan, uphill, at any rate;”? and I must.do him the
justice to say, that he let my rein out several holes, and going
Jakes and the Lady. 215

uphill after that, he always gave me my head; but the heavy
loads went on. Good feed and fair rest will keep up one’s
strength under full work, but no horse can stand against over-
loading; and I was getting so thoroughly pulled down from
this cause, that a younger horse was bought in my place. I
may as well ‘mention here, what I suffered at this time from
another cause.. I had heard horses speak of it, but had never
myself had experience of the evil; this was a badly-lighted
stable; there was only one very small window.at the end, and
the consequence was that the stalls were almost dark.

Besides the depressing effect this had on my spirits, it very
much weakened my sight, and when I was suddenly brought
out of the darkness into the glare of daylight, it was very pain-
ful to my eyes. Several times I stumbled over the threshold,
and could scarcely see where I was going.

I believe, had I stayed there very long, I should have become
purblind, and that would have been a great misfortune, for I
have heard men say that a stone-blind horse was safer to drive
than one which had imperfect sight, as.it generally makes
them very timid. However, I escaped without any permanent
injury to my sight, and was sold to a large cab owner.




CHAPTER XLVII.
HARD TIMES,

SHALL never forget my new master; he had
black eyes and a hook nose, his mouth was as full
of teeth as a bull-dog’s, and his voice was as harsh
as the grinding of cart wheels over gravel stones.
_His name was Nicholas Skinner, and I believe
he was the same man that poor Seedy Sam drove
for.



I have heard men say that seeing is believing ;
but I should say that feeling is believing; for much as I had
seen before, I never knew till now the utter misery of a cab-
horse’s life.

Skinner had a low set of cabs’and alow set of drivers; he
was hard on the men, and the men were hard on the horses.
In this place we had no Sunday rest, and it was in the heat of
summer.

Sometimes on a Sunday morning, a party of fast men would
hire the cab for the day ; four of them inside and another with
the driver, and I had to take them ten or fifteen miles out
into the country, and back again: never would any of them
get down to walk up a hill, let it be ever'so steep, or the day
ever so hot—unless; indeed, when the driver*was afraid I should
not manage it, and sometimes I was so fevered and worn that
I could hardly touch my food. How I used to long for the
nice bran mash with nitre in it that Jerry used to give us on
Saturday nights in hot weather, that used to cool us down and
flard Times. 217

make us so comfortable. Then we had two nights and a whole
day for unbroken rest, and on Monday morning we were as fresh
as young horses again; but here, there was no rest, and my
driver was just as hard as his master. He hada cruel whip
with something so sharp at the end that it sometimes drew
blood, and he would even whip me under the belly, and flip the
lash out at my head. Indignities like these took the heart out
of me terribly, but still I did my best and never hung back;
for, as poor Ginger said, it was no use; men are the
strongest.

My life was now so utterly wretched, that I wished I might,
like Ginger, drop down dead at my work,-and be out of my
misery ; and one day my wish very nearly came to pass.

I went on the stand at eight in the morning, and had done a
good share of work; when we had to take a fare to the railway.
A long train was just expected in, so my driver pulled up at the
back of some of the outside cabs, to take the chance of a return
fare. It was a very heavy train, and as all the cabs were soon
engaged, ours was called for. There was a party of four; a
noisy, blustering man with a lady, a little boy, anda young girl,
and a great deal of luggage. The lady and the boy got into the
cab, and while the man ordered about the luggage, the young
girl came and looked at me.

‘* Papa,”’ she said, ‘‘ Iam sure this poor horse cannot take us
and all our luggage so far, he is so very weak and worn up; do
look at him.”

‘Oh! he’s all right, miss,” said my driver, ‘he’s strong
enough.”

The porter, who was. pulling about some heavy boxes,
suggested to the gentleman, as there was so much luggage,
whether he would not take a second cab.

“Can your hors€ do it, or can’t he?” Said the blustering
man.

“Oh! he can do it all right, sir ; send up the boxes, porter;
he could take more than that,” and he helped to haul up.a
“box so heavy that I could feel‘the springs go down.
218 Black Beauty. |

‘Papa, papa, do take a second cab,” said the young girl in
a beseeching tone ; ‘‘I am sure we are wrong, I am sure it is
very cruel.”

“Nonsense, Grace, get in at once, and don’t make all this
fuss ; a pretty thing it would be if a man of business had to
examine every cab-horse before he hired it—the man knows
his own business, of course: there, get in and hold your
tongue!” - ,

My gentle friend had to obey ; and box after box was dragged.
up and lodged on the top of the cab, or settled by the side of
the driver. At last all was ready, and with his usual jerk at
the rein, and slash of the whip, he drove out of the
station.

The load was very heavy, and I had had neither food nor rest
since the morning; but I did my best, as I always had done,
in spite of cruelty and injustice.

I got along fairly till we cameto Ludgate Hill, but there the
heavy load and my own exhaustion were too much. I was
struggling to keep on, goaded by constant chucks of the rein
and use of the whip, when, in a single moment—I cannot tell
how—my feet slipped from under me, and I fell heavily to the
ground on my side ; the suddenness and the force with which
I fell, seemed to beat all the breath out of my body. I lay
perfectly still; indeed, I had no power to move, and I thought
now I was going to die.. I heard a sort of confusion round me,
loud angry voices, and the getting down of the luggage, but it
was all like a dream. I thought Iheard that sweet pitiful voice
saying, ‘Oh! that poor horse! it is all our fault.” Some one
came and loosened the throat strap of my bridle, and undid the
traces which kept the collar so tight upon me. Someone said,
““He’s dead, he’ll never get up again.” Then I could hear
a policeman giving orders, but I did not even open my eyes,
I could only draw a gasping breath now and then. Some cold
water was thrown over my head, and some cordial was poured
into my mouth, and something was covered over me. I cannot
tell how long I lay there, but I found my life coming back, and


*“] WAS SUFFICIENTLY RECOVERED TO BE LED BACK TO SKINNER’S STABLES.”
220 Black Beauty.

a kind-voiced man was patting me and encouraging me to rise.
After some more cordial had been given me, and after one or
two attempts, I staggered to my feet, and was gently led to
some stables close by. Here I was put into a well-littered
stall, and some warm gruel was brought to me, which I drank
thankfully.

In the evening I was sufficiently recovered to be led back to
Skinner’s stables, where I think they did the best for me they
could. In-the morning Skinner came with a farrier to look at
me. He examined me very closely, and said—

“This is a case of overwork more than disease, and if you
could give him a run off for six months, he would be able to
work again ; but now there is not an ounce of strength in
him.”

‘Then he must just go to the dogs,” said Skinner; ‘I have
no meadows to nurse sick horses in—he might get well or he
might not ; that sort of thing don’t suit my business, my plan
is to work ’em as long as they’ll go, and then sell ’em for what
they'll fetch, at the knacker’s or elsewhere.”

“Tf he was broken-winded,” said the farrier, “you had
better have him killed out of hand, but he is not; there isa
' sale of horses coming off in about ten days; if you rest him
and feed him up, he may pick up, and you may get more than
his skin is worth, at any rate.”

Upon this advice, Skinner, rather unwillingly, I think, gave
orders that I should be well fed and cared for, and the stable
man, happily for me, carried out the orders with a much better
will than his master had in giving them. Ten days of perfect
rest, plenty of good oats, hay, bran mashes, with boiled linseed
mixed in them, did more to get up my condition than anything
else could have done; those linseed mashes were delicious,
and I began to-think, after all, it might be better to live than
go to the dogs. When the twelfth day after the accident
came, I was taken to the sale, a few miles out of London. I
felt that any change from my present place must be an im-
provement, so I held up my head, and hoped for the best.”


CHAPTER XLVIII.

FARMER THOROUGHGOOD AND HIS GRANDSON WILLIE.

â„¢, T this sale, of course I found myself in
company with the old broken-down
horses—some lame, some broken-
winded, some old, and some that I am
sure it would have been merciful to
shoot.
The buyers and sellers too, many of
them, looked not much better off than
the poor beasts they were bargaining
about. There were poor old men, trying to get a horse or pony
for a few pounds, that might drag about some little wood or coal
cart. There were poor men trying to sell a worn-out beast
for two or three pounds, rather than have the greater loss of
killing him. Some of them looked as if poverty and hard
times had hardened them all over; but there were othérs that
I would have willingly used the last of my strength in serving ;
poor and shabby, but kind and human, with voices that I
could trust. There was one tottering old man that tooka
great fancy to me, and I to him, but I was not strong enough
—it was an anxious time! Coming from the better part of
the fair, I noticed a man who looked like a gentleman farmer,
with a young boy by his side; he had a broad back and round
shoulders, a kind, ruddy face, and he wore a broad-brimmed
hat. When he came up to me and my companions, he stood
still, and gave a pitiful look round upon us. _I saw his eye rest


222 Black Beauty.

on me; I had still a good mane and tail, which did something |
for my appearance. I pricked my ears and looked at
him.

“There’s a horse, Willie, that has known better days.”

“Poor old fellow!” said the boy, ‘do you think, grand-
papa, he was ever a carriage horse?”

‘Oh yes! my boy,” said the farmer, coming closer, “he
might have been anything when he was young; look at his
nostrils and his ears, the shape of his neck and shoulder;
there’s a deal of breeding about that horse.” He put out his
hand and gave me a kind pat on the neck. I put out my
nose in answer to his kindness; the boy stroked my face.

‘Poor old fellow! see, grandpapa, how well he understands
kindness. Could not you buy him and make him young again,
as you did with Ladybird ?”

““ My dear boy, I can’t make all old horses young; besides,
Ladybird was not so very old, as she was run down and
badly used.”

“Well, grandpapa, I don’t believe that this one is old; look
at his mane and tail. I wish you would look into his mouth,
and then you could tell; though he is so very thin, his eyes
are not sunk like some old horses’.”

The old gentleman laughed. ‘‘Bless the boy! he is as
horsey as his old grandfather.”

** But do look at his mouth, grandpapa, and ask the price; I
am sure he would grow young in our meadows.”

The man who had brought me for sale now put in his word.

‘* The young gentleman’s a real knowing one, sir: now the
- fact is, this ’ere hoss is just pulled down with overwork in the
cabs; he’s not an old one, and I heerd as how the vetenary
should say, that a six months’ run off would set him right up,
being as how his wind was not broken. I’ve had the tending
of him these ten days past, and a gratefuller, pleasanter animal
I never met with, and ’twould be worth a gentleman’s while to
give a five-pound note for him, and let him have a chance.
I’ll be bound he’d be worth twenty pounds next spring.” —
Farmer Thoroughgood and his Grandson Willie, 223

The old gentleman laughed, and the little boy looked up
eagerly.

*‘Oh! grandpapa, did you not say, the colt sold for five
pounds more than you expected? you would not be poorer if
you did buy this one.”

The farmer slowly felt my legs, which were much swelled
and strained; then he looked at my mouth—* Thirteen
or fourteen, I should say; just trot him out, will you?”

I arched my poor thin neck, raised my tail a little, and
threw out my legs as well as I could, for they were very
stiff.

“‘ What is the lowest you will take for him?” said the
farmer as I came back.

‘Five pounds, sir; that was the lowest price my master
set.”

“°Tis a speculation,” said the old gentleman, shaking his
head, but at the same time slowly drawing out his purse—
“quite a speculation! Have you any more business here ?””
he said, counting the sovereigns into his hand.

“No, sir, I can take him for you to the inn, if you please.”

“Do so, I am now going there.”

They walked forward, and I was led behind. The boy
could hardly control his delight, and the old gentleman seemed
to enjoy his pleasure. I hada good feed at the inn, and was
then gently ridden home by a servant of my new master’s,
and turned into a large meadow with a shed in one corner
of it.

Mr. Thoroughgood, for that was the name of my benefactor,,.
gave orders that I should have hay and oats every night and
morning, and the run of the meadow during the day, and
‘you, Willie,” said ne “‘ must take the oversight of him ; I give:
him in charge to you.”

The boy was proud of his charge, and undertook it in all
seriousness. There was not a day when he did not pay mea
visit ; sometimes picking me out from amongst the other horses,
and giving me a bit of carrot, or something good, or some-
224° Black Beauty.

times standing by me whilst I ate my oats. He always came
with kind words and caresses, and of course I grew very fond
of him. He called me Old Crony, as I used to come to him
in the field and follow him about. Sometimes he brought
his grandfather, who always looked closely at my legs —

“This is our point, Willie,” he would say;. “‘but he is
improving so steadily that I think we shall see a change for
the better in the spring.”

The perfect rest, the good food, the soft turf, and gentle
exercise, soon began to tell on my condition and my spirits.
I had a good constitution from my mother, and I was
never strained when I was young, so that I had a better
chance than many horses, who have been worked before
they came. to their full strength. During the winter my
legs improved so much, that I began to feel quite young
again. The spring came round, and one day in March Mr.
Thoroughgood determined that he would try me in the
phaeton. I was well pleased, and he and Willie drove me
a few miles. My legs were not stiff now, and I did the work
with perfect ease.

“He’s growing young, “Willie ; we must give him a little
gentle work now, and by midsummer he will be as good as
Ladybird: he has a beautiful mouth, and good paces, they
can’t be better.”

“Oh! grandpapa, how glad I am you bought him!”

“So am I, my boy, but he has to thank you more than me;
we must now be looking out for a quiet, genteel place for him,
where he will be valued.”


CHAPTER XLIX.

MY LAST HOME.

_ NE day during this summer, the groom cleaned
, and dressed me with such extraordinary
care; that I thought some new change must
be at hand; he trimmed my fetlocks and
legs, passed the tarbrush over my hoofs,
and even parted my forelock. I think the harness had an
extra polish, Willie seemed half anxious, half merry, as he got
into the chaise with his grandfather.

“Tf the ladies take to him,” said the old gentleman, ‘ they’ll
be suited, and he’ll be suited: we can but try.”

At the distance of a mile or two from the village, we cametoa
pretty, low house, with a lawn and shrubbery at the front, and .
a drive up to the door. Willie rang the bell, and asked if Miss
Blomefield or Miss Ellen was at home. Yes, they were. So,
whilst Willie stayed with me, Mr. Thoroughgood went into the
house. In about ten minutes he returned, followed by three
ladies; one tall, pale lady, wrapped in a white shawl, leaned ona
younger, with dark eyes and a merry face ; the other, a very
stately-looking person, was Miss Blomefield. They all came
and looked at me and asked questions. The younger lady—
that was Miss Ellen—took to me very much ; she said she was
sure she should like me, I had such a good face. The tall, pale
lady said that she should always be nervous in riding behind a
horse that had once been down, as I might. come down again,
and if I did, she should never get over the fright.



Q
226 Black Beauty.

“You see, ladies,” said Mr. Thoroughgood, “ many first-rate
‘ horses have had their knees broken through the carelessness of
their drivers, without any fault of their own, and from what I
see of this horse, I should say that is his case; but of course I
do not wish to influence you. If you incline, you can have him
on trial, and then your coachman will see what he thinks of
him.”

“You have always been such a good adviser to us about our
horses,” said the stately lady, “that your recommendation
would goa long way with me, and if my sister Lavinia sees no
objection, we will accept your offer of a trial, with thanks.”

It was then arranged that I should be sent for the next
day.

In the morning a smart-looking young man came for me;
at first, he looked pleased ; but when he saw my knees, he said
in a disappointed voice—

“TJ didn’t think, sir, you would have recommended my ladies
a blemished horse like that.”

***Ffandsome is—that handsome does,’” said my master ;
“‘ you are only taking him on trial, and Iam sure you will do
fairly by him, young man, and if he is not as safe as any horse
you ever drove, send him back.”

I was led home, placed in a comfortable stable, fed, and left
to myself. The next day, when my groom was cleaning my
face, he said—

“That is just like the star that Black Beauty had, he is much
the same height too, I wonder where he is now.”

A little further on, he came to the place in my neck where I
was bled, and where a little knot was left in the skin. He
almost started, and began to look me over carefully, talking to
himself.

‘* White star in the forehead, one white foot on the off side,
this little knot just in that place ;” then looking at the middle
of my back—“‘and as I am alive, there is that little patéh of
white hair that John used to call ‘ Beauty’s threepenny bit.’
It must be Black Beauty! Why, Beauty! Beauty! do you

2


“WHEN WE RETURNED, THE OTHER SISTERS CAME OUT TO HEAR HOW I HAD BEHAVED MYSELF.”
228 Black Beauty.

know me? little Joe Green, that almost killed you?” And he
began patting and patting me as if he was quite overjoyed.

I could not say that I remembered him, for now he was a
fine grown young fellow, with black whiskers and.a man’s
voice, but I was sure he knew me, and that he was Joe
Green, and I was very glad. I put my nose up to him, and
tried to say that we were friends. I never saw a man so
pleased.

‘Give you a fair trial! Ishould think soindeed! I wonder
who the rascal was that broke your knees, my old Beauty!
you must have been badly served out somewhere ; well, well, it
won't be my fault if you haven’t good times of it now. I wish
John Manly was here to see you.”

In the afternoon I was put into a low Park chair and brought
to the door. Miss Ellen was going to try me, and Green went
with her. I soon found that she was a good driver, and she
seemed pleased with my paces. I heard Joe telling her about
me, and that he was sure I was Squire Gordon’s old Black
Beauty.

When we returned, the other sisters came out to hear how
I had behaved myself. She told them what she had just heard,
and said—

“JT shall certainly write to Mrs. Gordon, and tell her that
her favourite horse has come to us. How pleased she will
be!”

After this I was driven every day for a week or so, and
as I appeared to be quite safe, Miss Lavinia at last ventured
out in the small close carriage. After this it was quite decided
to keep me and call me by my old name of “ Black Beauty.”

I have now lived in this happy place a whole year. Joe is
the best and kindest of grooms. My work is easy and pleasant,
and I feel my strength and spirits all coming back again. Mr.
Thoroughgood said to Joe the other day—

‘In your place he will last till he is twenty years old—
perhaps more.”

Willie always speaks to me when he can, and treats me as
My Last Home. 229

his special friend. My ladies have promised that I shall never
be sold, and so I have nothing to fear ; and here my story ends.
My troubles are all over, andI am at home; and often before
I am quite awake, I fancy I am still in the orchard at Birtwick,
standing with my old friends under the apple trees.









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The Publishers beg to announce that “BLACK BEAUTY” 2s

issued in the following Editions :—

New Illustrated Quarto Edition, elegantly bound, cloth. 5/-

Presentation Edition, cloth elegant . : ; - 2/-
Popular Edition, paper covers, crown 8vo - + If
School Edition, cloth, ftap. 8vo . . . . - 1/6

French Edition (Prince Noir). . . . . 2/6
Italian Edition . . . . . : . - 2/6

German Edition . . . . - | (Lx preparation.)
SELECTIONS FROM JARROLD AND SONS’ ILLUSTRATED PUBLICATIONS



SABLE AND WHITE,

The Autobiograpby of a Show Dog.

In ‘Sable and White”
Dr. Gordon Stables has en-
deavoured to do for the dog
what Miss Anna Sewell has
done for the Horse in

‘* Black Beauty.”








By
Dr. GORDON
STABLES,
R.N.

‘ ~~

Beautifully Illustrated by HARRISON WEIR.

Small 4to.

Handsomely Bound in Cloth, 38. 6d.

LIST OF BOOKS UNIFORM WITH “SABLE AND WHITE.”

Small 4to.

Lord Lynton’s Ward. By HELENA
Brooxs, Author of “ Jack’s Watchword,”’ &c.
With 36 illustrations by Pau Harpy.

**Since Mrs, Hodgson Burnett wrote ‘ Little

Lord Fauntleroy’ few more pleasing children’s

books have seen the light.”—National Press.

That Bother of a Boy. By GRACE
SrEpsinc, Author of ‘‘Wild Kathleen,” &c.
35 illustrations by Pau Harpy,
* One of the most amusing stories we have read
for many a long day.”—Leeds Mercury.

Clear as the Noon Day. By ETHEL PEN-
ROSE. 36 illustrations by Epirn GE. SomEr-
VILLE.

Illustrated and Handsomely Bound. 38. 6d. each.

Sayings and Doings in Fairyland ; or,
Old Friends with New Faces. By D. S.
Srnctair. Upwards of 40 illustrations by
Paut Harpy. end Edition.

“Tn this delightful volume there is nota dull line,
and little readers will gladly welcome it.”—G/asgow

Herald,

Wooing of Osyth. A Story of the
Eastern Counties in Saxon Times. By Kate
T. Sizer, Author of ‘‘ Advice Tennant’s Pil-
grimage,” ‘Dick 0’ Greenwood,” &c., &c
48 illustrations by M. M. Brake.

After School. By RoBert OVERTON,
Author of ‘‘ Lights Out,” ‘‘ Queer Fish,” “A
Round Dozen,” &c. With 25 illustrations by
REINHOLD THIELE.



JARROLD AND SONS, 10 & ll, WARWICK LANE, E.C.
SELECTIONS FROM JARROLD AND SONS’ NEW BOOKS.



NEW UNIFORM SERIES OF 3s.6d. NOVELS BY POPULAR AUTHORS.

Mrs. LEITH ADAMS’ NOVELS.
Uniformly bound, crown 8vo, cloth.

Louis Draycott. ‘2nd Edition. :

“The whole tone of the book, in common with
all Mrs. Adams’ works, is ennobling.’—Bivuzing-
ham Gazette.

Geoffrey Stirling. 5th Edition.

“ ¢ Geoffrey Stirling ’ unites in a remarkable de-
gree the many qualities that design Mrs. Adams
as one of the best of our feminine novelists.”—
Morning Post.

Bonnie Kate. 2nd Edition.

‘¢ Melissa is fresh and natural, and has a charm
of her own, and the twin-sisters are genuine and
pleasing.” —Saturday Review.

Others in preparation for issue at short intervals.

New Othello. By Hon. Iza Durrus
Harpy. end Edition. ‘

** One of the most powerfully-written books this

talented author has yet ‘produced, engrossing

throughout, enthralling in interest.” —Vanity Fair.

The Maid of London Bridge. of the Time of Kett’s Rebellion. By Somer-
VILLE GiBnEY, Author of ‘ The Hovellers of
Deal,” &c.

‘€ An historical story. . . . The author shows a
praiseworthy intimacy both with the geography of
Old London and with the particulars of Kett’s
Rebellion and subsequent disturbances.””—A the-
neun,

Eveline Wellwood. A Tale of Modern
Irish Life. By Major Norris Paut,
“ A ¥attling good story, as many, both young
and old, will heartily pronounce it.”—Suxday
Times.

Old Lattimer’s Legacy. By J. S.
FiLetcuer, Author of ‘‘ The Winding Way,”
‘* Frank Carisbroke’s Stratagem,” &c.
“*Qld Lattimer’s Legacy’ is cleverly written
and interesting.”—Vanity Fair.
Others in preparation Jorissue at short intervals.

CURTIS YORKE’S NOVELS.

Uniformly bound, crown 8vo, cloth,

His Heart to Win. An entirely New
Work. end Edition.

* “The pleasantest and brighest of Curtis Yorke’s
stories.” —Wewcastle Daily Leader.

Hush! 2nd Edition.

“Is in many ways a remarkable novel, and from
every point of view superior to the current fiction
of the day.”—Morning Post.

Dudley. 3rd Edition.

“It is some time since such a fresh, pleasant
book has come under our notice as’ Dudley.’ ’—
Whitehall Review.

The Wild Ruthvens. 3rd Edition.

“An enchanting work—the story runs on with
happy blithesome tread to the end, whichis reached
all too soon.”—Sz, Stephen's Review.

That Little Girl. 4th Edition.

“A very charming and well-written story.”—
Queen.

The Brown Portmanteau, and other
Stories. 2nd Edition.

“ The stories are all interesting and the volume
is sure ofa welcome.”—Literary World.
Once. 2nd edition.

‘A story showing all Curtis Yorke’s capacity
for vigorous and vivid writing, and for skilful con-
struction of plot.”— Scottish Leader.

A Romance of Modern London.
Edition. (/Jzst Published.)

** May be classed among the best modern works
of fiction.” —Cambridge Chronicle.

Darrell Chevasney. An entirely New
Work. (Shortly.)

BetweentheSilences. [Ready December.

2nd



MISS E. BOYD BAYLY’S POPULAR WORKS.

Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. each.

Jonathan Merle.

A West Country Story
of the Times.

5th and Cheap Edition.

“Rich in character and incident, and is as
charming in substance as it is elevated in tone.”—
The Spectator.

Alfreda Holme. A Story of Social Life
in Australia, 3rd Edition.
“« Is written with exquisite tasteand expression.”
—Daily Chronicle. ‘
“*A very pretty, bright, interesting book is
‘ Alfreda Holme.’ ”—Daily News.



Dr. GORDON STABLES’ HEALTH MANUALS.

Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d. each.

Boys’ Book of Health and Strength.
2nd Edition. With portraits of Dr. Gorpon
. Stases, C.M., R.N., and leading athletes,
“Straightforward manly talks, pregnant with
wise counsel, Our advice is let every boy get the
book.” —Christian Age.

The Girl’s Own Book of Health and
Beauty. 2nd Edition.

_ ‘‘Teems with useful hints and good sugges-

tions. Ought to be in the hands of every young

woman.”—The Leicester Chronicle.

Sickness or Health? or, the Danger of
Trifling Ailments. 2nd Edition,

** The Work is practical, and written in a read-
able style. It merits a place in every public and
private library in the land. The publishers are to
be warmly congratulated on the publication of this
excellent volume.”—Audl Examiner.

The Wife’s Guide to Health and):
Happiness. [Now Ready,]



JARROLD AND SONS, 1o & 11, WARWICK LANE, E.C.
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