Citation
Black Beauty, his grooms and companions

Material Information

Title:
Black Beauty, his grooms and companions The "Uncle Tom's cabin" of the horse
Creator:
Sewell, Anna, 1820-1878
D. Lothrop & Company ( Publisher )
C. Whittingham and Co ( Printer )
Chiswick Press ( Printer )
Place of Publication:
Boston
Publisher:
D. Lothrop Company
Manufacturer:
C. Whittingham and Co. ; Chiswick Press ;
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
[4], 245, [15] p., [9] leaves of plates : ill. ; 19 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Horses -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Animal welfare -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Physicians -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Natural history -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Family -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Brothers and sisters -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Farmers -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Butchers -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Family stories -- 1891 ( local )
Publishers' catalogues -- 1891 ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1891
Genre:
Family stories ( local )
Publishers' catalogues ( rbgenr )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
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:
Includes index.
General Note:
Publisher's catalogue precedes and follows text.
General Note:
Advertisement for The American Humane Education Society, including methods of "Killing animals humanely," precedes text.
Statement of Responsibility:
by A. Sewell ; illustrated.

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:
026953683 ( ALEPH )
ALH7817 ( NOTIS )
05790844 ( OCLC )

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Full Text




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The American Humane Education Society. |




GLoryY TO
GOD,
PEACE ON EARTH,
KINDNESS, JUSTICE
AND MERCY TO
Every LIviING
CREATURE.






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2








GEO. T. ANGELL, President.
JOSEPH L. STEVENS, Secretary,
Hon. HENRY O. HOUGHTON, Treasurer.

(OF HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.)

THE AMERICAN HUMANE EDUCATION SOCIETY.
The first Society of its kind in the World.

The American Humane Education Society, the first of its kind in
the world, was incorporated as a National Society by Act of the Leg-
islature of Massachusetts, March, 1889, with power to hold half
a million of dollars free from taxation.

It received during its 7rs¢ year in its permanent fund real estate
given by its president, valued at over three thousand dollars, and for
present and future use money given by persons in various States to
the amount of over eight thousand dollars more.

Its object is to carry humane education into all our American
schools and homes, and to found “Humane Societies” and “ Bands
of Mercy” over the whole American Continent.

In its frst year it founded in Western States fourteen new “ Hu-
mane Societies” and four hundred and sixty-six new “ Bands of
Mercy ;” offered prizes to the students in all our American Colleges.
also to all American editors, for best essays on the Effect of Humane
Education on the Prevention of Crime ; employed an active mission-
ary, and sent nearly a hundred thousand copies of humane publica-
tions into every State and Territory except Alaska,

Its directors are among our most respected citizens. ‘

All persons wishing information as to what it has already done
and is proposing to do will receive prompt answers by writing.

GEO. T. ANGELL,
President of the American Humane Education Society, the Massachusetts

Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and the Pareni Amer-

ican Band of Mercy, 19 Milk Street, Boston. ’

ton, Warch 1, 1890.



The American Humane Education Society.

RATES OF SOCIETY MEMBERSHIP :

Active Life = 3 = - $100.00
Associate Life — - S - 50.00
Active Annual : z - 10.00
Associate Annual Soe gy 5.00

All members receive “ OuR DUMB ANIMALS” and
other publications free.

OFFICES OF THE SOCIETY :

GODDARD BUILDING, 19 MILK STREET,
COR. HAWLEY ST., BOSTON.

WILLS.

To those who wish to remember in their wills our “ American
Alumane Education Society” I would say that the Trustees of the
Permanent Fund of the Society have a box in the Union Safe De-
posit Vaults, State Street, Boston, as has also the undersigned,
where such wills can be preserved, and where several wills already
made in favor of the Society are now deposited.

To guard against accident I recommend that all wells de executed
v2 duplicate or triplicate, and so kept in different places.

After a will is made it is very little cost or trouble to make one
or two copies, and execute all at the same time with same witnesses,
and in the last clause of each write chad tt is executed tn mee ects or
triplicate, as the case may be.

All persons wishing to give property by will to the Society can
have their wills written without charge by applying to

GEO. T. ANGELL,
President of the American Humane Education Society, the Massa-
chusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and the
Parent American Band of Mercy, 19 Milk Street, Boston.

Bosron, March 1, 1890.



Killing Animals Humanely.

Humanity requires that animals be killed in the quick-
est and least painful manner. The following circular has
been sent by our AMERICAN Humane Epucation Socr-
ETY very widely through the country,

THE HORSE.



SHootinc. — Place the pistol muzzle within a few inches
of the head, and shoot at the dot, aiming toward the centre
of the head.

Biows. — Blindfold, and with a heavy axe or hammer
strike just below the foretop, at the point indicated in the
present cut. Two vigorous, well-directed blows will make
death sure.

8e careful not to shoot or strike too low.





THE DOG,



SHootinc. — Place the pistol muzzle near the head,
aiming a little one side of the centre of the top of the
skull, and shoot downward at the dot, so that the bullet
shall go through the brain into or toward the neck.

Do not shoot too low or directly in the middle, because of
thick bones.



After much consultation with veterinary surgeons and
experts, no better or more merciful method of killing cats
has been found than to put, with a long-handled wooden
spoon, about half a teaspoonful of pure cyanide of potas-
sium on the cat’s tongue, as near the throat as possible.
The suffering is only for a few seconds. Great care must
be used to get sure cyanide of potassium, and to keep it
tightly corked.

For further information, when needed, write

GEO. T. ANGELL,
President of the American Humane Education Society,
the Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cru
elty to Animals, and the Parent American Band of
Mercy, 19 Milk Street, Boston.



























le ea

< NE









Za

IN THE DAYTIME I RAN BY HER SIDE.



BLACK BEAUTY
HIS GROOMS AND COMPANIONS
The “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” of the Horse

BY

A. SEWELL















ILLUSTRATED

BOSTON
D LOTHROP COMPANY

WASHINGTON STREET OPPOSITE BROMFIELD



ALPHABETICAL INDEX OF “BLACK BEAUTY.’

PREPARED BY JAMES A. BLAISDELL, OF BELOIT, WIS.

—e—
Bits, 38, 149.
Blinders, 52-54,
Breaking in, well, 16-20, 99; badly, 32-37, 106,
Cab horses, overdriven, 171; standing in cold, 220.
Cab licenses, exorbitant, 194-196. . ” 5
Check-rein, with, 38-41, 57, 58, 107-110; without, 41; in carting,

227-230

Cockneys, 137, ete.

Cruelty, effect of, 56-67, 191; interfering with, 96, 191, 192.

Docking, 49-51.

Drink habit, in grooms, 119-123, 215, 216.

Driving, 48, 72; cruelty in, 56, 106, 137; tight rein, 132; loose
rein, 133.

Exercise, necessity of, 151, 223.

Exhausted horses, treatment for, 235,

Feed, 63, 145, 203.

Fire, management of horses in, 77, 78.

Fright from railroad trains, to cure, 19.

Groom, training for, 68-71.

Grooming, 27, 28, 41; kindness in, 42, 48, 108.

Heated horses, care for, 89; watering, 162.

Horse-balls, ‘‘ Birtwiek,” 43.

Hunting, danger in, 12-15, 75, 128.

Instinet of horses, 61-63.

Killing horses, 200, 217.°

Leg, length of, in affecting paces, 140.

Overdriving of cab horses, 171, 236; cart horses, 202 ; public re-
sponsible for, 203.

Overloading, 201, 227-230.

Shoes, 18 ; loose nails in, 121, 122.

Skittish and spirited horses, 31.

Stalls, 21, 22; slope in, 131; cleaning, 150; light in, 231.

Stones in hoof, 134, 135. .

Stumbling, cause and cure, 151.

Sunday use of horses, 162, 177-182, 184-187.

Thrush, 151, 152.

War horses, 163-169.

Watering, 162.

Whipping, 233.

Wounds, care of, 109; ent feet, 126; legs, 126.

Wornout horses, treatment for, 241.

The Riverside Press, Cambridge Mass., U. S. A.
Eiectrotyped aud Printed by 11.0. Houghton & Company.



CONTENTS.

———
PAGE
InrRopucTrorY CHAPTER . 5 e ° 5 x Reis)
PART I.

CHAPTER
I. My Earty Home ‘ Si 5 . B 5.)
II. Tae Hont 5 : G E . i s 12
Ill. My Breaxine In 5 ; e : . - 16
IV. Bretwick Park . = 5 . - nee ena
V. A Far Srarr . ; 5 6 ° = « 2
VI. Liperty . : : . 5 . 5 s 30
VII. Ginczr : : ; is IO?
VII. Ginerr’s cronae CONTINUED . , a é 37
IX. MeRRYLEGS . : 5 % 0 0 . 44
K. A TALK IN THE Oncaea 5 : . O 48
XI. Priam SPeaKine a C ; 0 a » 55
XII. A Srormy Day é . d ‘ cs 59
XII. Tue Devit's Trape ee fs ? s - 64
XIV. James Howarp . . 5 ; G - ° 68
XV. Tae Oxp OstLEeR ‘ 5 : A 5 ome,
XVI. Tue Firs - 5 : 9 ‘ . peeienO
XVII. Jonn Manty’s TALK ers ae enter er Ol
XVIII. Gorse ror tae Docror. .- : é 5 86
XIX. Onty IecnorAnce . { 5 = 5 e - 91
XX. Jon GREEN 5 5 : G 5 js 5 94
XXI Tas Partine . S : ° 5 - 98

PART If.

XXIL EartsHatn 3 0 ° 5 . - 102
XXII. A Srrixe ror Rene : 5 - 107

XXIV. a Lapy ANNE, OR A REN HORSE seeemklele



iv CONTENTS.

XXV. Revsen Suite . , r : . . . 119
XXVI. How ir Enpep . ° , ; - 124
XXVII. Rournep, anp Goine Deynan : . 128
XXVIII. A Jos Horst anp nis Drivers. . . 182
XXIX. Cocxnerys . is 5 A di : 5 . 187
XXK. A Tuer : A : i E 5 . 145
XXXI. A Humesue ; . s : | 5 . 149
PART III.
XXXII. A Horst Farm . i a 6 . - 153
XXXII. A Lonpon Cas Horse . : : 2 . 158
XXXIV. An Otp War Horse . : : : - 163
XXXV. Jerry BARKER ‘i _ ‘ 7 4 . 170
XXXVI. Tue Sunpay Cas : 3 @ : Seeley
XXXVII- Tue Gonpen Rute . 7 , ‘J . 183
XXXVITI. Dotny anp a REAL GENTLEMAN : - 188
XXXIX. Serpy Sam : : : 5 5 . 193
XL. Poor Gincer : . ; ; : - 198
XLI. Tre Botcuer . 3 ; : . ; . 201
XLUL. Tas Evecrion. i 3 ‘ Seer 200)
XLITI. A Frrenp iw NrEep : : ; . 208
XLIV. Oxp CaprarIn AND HIS SuccEssoR 5 . 214
XLV. Jerry’s New YEAR : 3 : . 220
PART IV.
XLVI. JakEs AND THE Lapy. : : A SeoeiT
XLVIL Harp Timzs_. c . 232
XLVIII. Farmer THOROUGHGOOD AND HIS Granneon
WILE i - 5 6 . a 3

XLIX. My Lasr Home. 6 c 65 . fi « 242





INTRODUCTORY -CHAPTER,

THE UNCLE TOM’S CABIN OF THE HORSE.

AOR more than twenty years this thought
has been upon my mind.

Somebody must write a book which shall
be as widely read as “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” and shall
have as widespread and powerful influence in abol-
ishing eruelty to horses, as “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”
had on the abolition of human slavery.

Many times, by letter and word of mouth, I have
called the attention of American writers to this
matter and asked them to undertake it.

At last the book has come to me; not from
America, but from England, where already over
ninety thousand copies have been sold.

It was written by a woman, Anna Sewell.

It is the autobiography of an English horse, tell-
ing of kind masters and cruel, of happiness and of
suffering. Jam glad to say that happiness predomi-
nates and finally triumphs.

I have read each of its two hundred and thirty-
eight beautifully printed pages from its cheenful






6 BLACK BEAUTY.

beginning to its happy end, and then called in the
printers. es

Through the kind gifts of friends I am enabled to
pay $265 for having it electrotyped, and through the
kindness of another friend am enabled to print a
first edition of ten thousand, at the marvelously low
price of twelve cents each—to which must be added,
when sent by mail, eight cents for postage, etc.

As I have said, over ninety thousand copies have
been already sold in England.

I want to print immediately a hundred thousand
copies.

I want the power to give away thousands of these
to drivers of horses, and in public schools, and else-
where.

I want to send a copy postpaid to the editors of
each of about thirteen thousand American newspa-
pers and magazines.

I would be glad to have each reader of this paper,
who has ever loved or cared for a horse, send me as
large a check as he or she can afford, to be used in
the distribution of this book.

Every such check will be acknowledged in “ Our
Dumb Animals,” and at once passed into the treas-.
ury of our “American Humane Education Society,”
and be promptly used for the purpose for which it
is sent.

I would be glad, if I had the means, to put a copy
of it in every home in America, for I am sure there
has never been a book printed in any language, the
reading of which will be more likely to inspire love
and kind care for these dumb servants and friends



INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. q

who toil and die in our service. I hope to live
long enough to print and distribute a million copies.

Tur Tirte oF THE Boor 1s “Buiack Bravry,
His Grooms AND CoMPANIONs.”

GEO. T. ANGELL,

President of the American Humane Education Society, the
Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to
Animals, and the Parent American Band of Mercy,
19 Milk Street, Boston.

Boston, February 12, 1890.











BLACK BEAUTY.
PART I.



CHAPTER I.
MY EARLY HOME.

HE first place that I can well remember was a
large pleasant meadow with a pond of clear
water in it. 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 a
gate at our master’s house, which stood by the road-
side; at the top of the meadow was a grove 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 daytime I
ran by her side, and at night I lay down close by
her. When it was hot, we used to stand by the
pond in the shade of the trees, and when it was
cold, we had a nice warm shed near the grove.

As soon as I was old enough to eat grass, my
mother used to go out to work in the daytime, and
come back in the evening.





10 BLACK BEAUTY.

There were six young colts in the meadow be-
sides me; they were older than I was; some were
_ nearly as large as grown-up horses. J used to run

with them, and had great fun; we used to gallop all
together round and round the field as hard as we
could go. 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 J 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 father has a
great name in these parts, and your grandfather
won the cup two years at the Newmarket races;
your grandmother 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 when 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



MY EARLY HOME. il

much. 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 favor-
ites. My mother always took him to the town on
a market day 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 such a 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 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 IT.

THE HUNT.

NEFORE I was two years old, a circumstance
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 woods and meadows. I and the other colts
were feeding at the lower part of the field when
we heard, quite in the distance, what sounded like
the ery 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 on a “yo! yo,o,0! 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






















THE HUNT.



THE HUNT. 138

horse snorted and looked eagerly after them, and we
young colts 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 enough it
may be one of our own hares out of the woods; any
hare they can find will do for the dogs and men to
run after;” and before long the dogs began their
“yo! yo, o, o!” again, and back they came alto-
gether at full speed, making straight for our meadow
at the part where the high bank and hedge 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 woods. 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.



14 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 a sad sight; two fine horses
were down, one was struggling 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.

“ His 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.

“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 saying this, we stood and
looked on. Many of the riders had gone to the
young man; but my master, who had been watch-
ing 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. They 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. |

There was now riding off in all directions to the
‘doctor’s, to the farrier’s, and no doubt to Squire



THE HUNT. 15

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 a gun; 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 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 fora 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 forehead. 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 JI 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 erupper, and a breech-





*
MY BREAKING IN. 17

ing, and to stand still whilst they are put on; then
to have a cart or a chaise fixed behind, 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
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 wea- -
riness. So you see this breaking in is a great thing.

I had of course long been used to a halter and a
headstall, and to be led about in the field 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.



18 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 soi on my back and rode me
round the m adow cn the soft grass. It certainly
did feel queer; but I must say I felt rather proud
to carry my master, and as he cantinued to ride me
a little every day, I soon became accustomed to it.

The next pleasant 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. The black-
smith took my feet *. his hand, one after the other,
and ‘1t 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 ~f 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
to wear. 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



MY BREAKING IN. 19

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
averything, and could do my work as well as my
mother.

I must not forget to mention one part of my train-
ing, which I have always considered a very great
advantage. My master sent me for a fortnight to a
neighboring 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 feeding quietly near the pales which sepa-
rated 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 some-
thing flew by, and was gone almost before I could

.draw my breath. J turned and galloped to the fur-
ther side of the meadow as fast as I could go, and
there I stood snorting with astonishment and fear.
In the 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 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



20 BLACK BEAUTY.

into the field, or did me any harm, I began to dis-
regard it, and very soon I cared as little about the
passing of a train as the cows and sheep did.

Since then J 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 fear-
less at railway stations as in my own stable.

Now if any one wants to break in a 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 behaved 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, thought-
ful men like our master, that any horse may be
proud to serve; and 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 1
say, do your best wherever it is, and keep up your
good name.”





CHAPTER IV.

BIRTWICK PARK.

mT this time I used to stand in the stable, and
“| my coat was brushed every day till it shone
| like a rook’s wing. Jt was early in May,
etek there came a man from Squire Gordon’s, who
took me away to the Hall. My master said, “ Good-
by, Darkie; be a good horse, and always do your
best.” I could not say “good-by,” 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 Birt-
wick. 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
the home paddock, the old orchard, and the stables.
There was accommodation for many horses and car-
riages; 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





22, BLACK BEAUTY.

behind with a wooden gate ; the others were common
stalls, good stalls, but not nearly so large; it had a
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 hc
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 ina 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.

When I had eaten my corn, I looked round. In
the stall next to mine stood a little fat gray 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, “1 hope you are good-tem-
pered ; 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



BIRTWICK PARK. 23

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 is a very 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
T had nothing to do with it; and as to my being a
colt, I am 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.” I said no more.

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

“The thing ig 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 dared not come, and I missed them very much.
| hope they will now come again, if you do not bite
or snap.” :

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



24 BLACK BEAUTY.

“Well, I don’t think she does find pleasure,” says
Merrylegs ; “it 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 mas-
" ter 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, “I am twelve years old; I
know a great deal, and J 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 such a
kind boy as James is, so that it is all Ginger’s own
fault that she did not stay in that box.”









CHAPTER V.

A FAIR START.



JHE name of the coachman was John Manly;
he had a wife and one little child, and they
acm) 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 around after breakfast; go
by the common and the Highwood, and back by the
watermill and the river; that will show his paces.”

“J 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 a saddle, but it
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.”





26 BLACK BEAUTY.

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

“Well, John, how does he go?”

“ First-rate, sir,” answered John; “he is as fleet
as a deer, and has a fine spirit too; but the lightest
touch of the rein will guide him. Down at the end
of the common we met one of those traveling 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 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.”

“That’s well,” said the Squire, “I will try him
myself to-morrow.”

The next day I was brought up for my master. I
remembered 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.”



A FAIR START. 27

“ 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, “he 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 sensi-
ble 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 bring-
ing 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.

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



28 BLACK BEAUTY.

wanted me todo. J grew very fond of him, he was
so genile 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 carefully 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 pleasant 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 har-
ness. When we came to a 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



A FAIR START. — 29

friends ; he was such a cheerful, plucky, good-tem-
pered little fellow, that he was a favorite 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 an-
other 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 favorite with the master, who
gave him the run of the park; he sometimes 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.

a, 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 J 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, lam 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 bec. 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





LIBERTY. 3l

I would, it seemed as if I must jump, or dance, or
prance, and 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
called skittish, when it is only play; and some grooms
will 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, 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. 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 our feet, the air . sweet, and the
freedom to do as we liked was so pleasant —to gal-
lop, 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 VIL
GINGER,

NE day when Ginger and I were standing
alone in the shade, we had a great deal of

w) 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 had as good a temper as you, 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 [ 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. Lhe man that had the care of us never
gaveme a kind word in my life. Ido not 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









fm
fa

A

AUK



GINGER.



GINGER. 33

face, and I should think it would be a sear for life.
We did not care for them, but of course it made us
more wild, and we settled it in our minds 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
if 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
ou the halter and the bar into my mouth; then one
dragged me along by the halter, another flogging be-
hind, and this was the first experience I had of
men’s kindness; it was all force. They did not give
mea chance to know what they wanted. Iwas high
bred and had a great deal of spirit, and was very
wild, no doubt, and gave them, I dare say, plenty of
trouble, but then it was dreadful to be shut up ina
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 anything with me; but he had given
up all the hard part of the trade to his son and to
another experienced man, and he only came at times



B4 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 all that he
thought about,” and Ginger stamped her foot as if
the very thought of him made her angry. Then she
went on:—_

“Tf I 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 forme. One
day he had worked me hard in every way he could,
and when I laid down I was tired, and miserable,
and angry; it all seemed so hard. The next morn-
ing 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 ground, when something I did put him out
of temper, and he chucked me hard with the rein.
The new bit was very painful, and I reared up sud-
denly, 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;



GINGER. 35

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 ter-
tible struggle, I threw him off backwards. I heard
him fall heavily on the turf, and without looking be-
hind 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 tree and watched, but no one
came to catch me. The time went on, and 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 or.
ders it was so steady and decided, that every one
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,



36 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 fear away. He stood by, patting and
stroking me whilst I was eating, and seeing 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
stable-man 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 comfort-
able. 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,’



GINGER. 87

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.”







CHAPTER VIIL

GINGER’S STORY CONTINUED.




5 ae next time that Ginger and I were to- .
gether in the paddock, she told me about
L All her first place.

«“ After my breaking in,” she said, “I 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. JI had been driven with a check-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. You who never had
a check-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. Besides
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 colored the froth that kept





y of g
GINGER’S STORY CONTINUED. 39

flying from my lips, as I chafed and fretted at the
bits and rein. Jt was worst when we had to stand
by the hour waiting for our mistress at some grand
party or entertainment ; and if I fretted or stamped
with impatience, the whip was laid on. It was
enough to drive one mad.”



Happy Horse — No Blinders or Check-Reim

“Did not your master take any thought for you ?”
I said.

“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 had an irritable temper; that I had not been
well broken to the check-rein, but I should soon
get used to it; but he 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,



40 BLACK BEAUTY.

I got only a surly word ora blow. If he had been
civil, I would have tried to bear it. JI was willing
to work, and ready to work hard too; but to be tor-
mented for nothing but their fancies angered me.



Cruelty.

What right had they to make me suffer like that ?
Besides the soreness in my mouth, and the pain in
my neck, i¢ 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



GINGER’S STORY CONTINUED. 41

restless and irritable, I could not help it; and I
began to snap and kick when any one came to har-
ness 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 ap-
pearance 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 least he drove me quite without a check-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 al-
ways 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 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



42 BLACK BEAUTY.

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.
oT was a pity, be 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
Jong 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; but 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 pun-
ishing 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



GINGER’S STORY CONTINUED. 43

me this morning when I had been rubbing her fore-
head.”

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

This was a little joke of John’s; ie 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,
jirmness 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.

wR. 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 your-
self, or we shall get into trouble.”

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

“Oh!” skid 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 ju8t pitched them off back-
wards; that was the only thing they could under-
stand.”

“ What?” said I, “you threw the children off? I





ro







































































































































































































MERRYLEGS.



MERRYLEGS. 45

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,
Tam as careful of our young ladies as the master
could be, and as for the little 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
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 gal-
loped 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 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 ora
thrashing machine, and can go on as long and 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



46 BLACK BEAUTY. :

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 them 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 gypsies, and not for young gentlemen.”

“Tf 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
T 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 entrusted to
me. 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 Merry-
legs will take as much care of them as you or [
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 un-
grateful 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



MERRYLEGS. AT

tell you good places make good horses. J would n’t
vex our people for anything; I love them, I do,”
said Merrylegs, and he gave a low “ho, ho, ho,”
through 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, “I hope I shall never come to
that.”







CHAPTER X.

A TALK IN THE ORCHARD.

SZSINGER and I were not of the regular tall
a ° carriage horse breed, we had more of the
ASA!) yvacing blood in us. We stood about fifteen
and a half hands high; we were therefore just as
good for riding as we were for driving, and our mas-
ter 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 of horse. 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 and Merry-
legs. It was so cheerful to be trotting and can-
tering 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 rein, 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 and a
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






A TALK IN THE ORCHARD. 49

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 honor; 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 ven-
tured 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! 7 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 off my long
beautiful tail, through the flesh and through the
bone, and took it away.”

“How dreadful!” I exclaimed.

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



50 BLACK BEAUTY.

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.”

‘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.”

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

“ Of course it is,” said he; “to my mind, fashion
is one of the wickedest things in the world. Now
look, for instance, at the way they serve dogs, cut-
ting 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



A TALK IN TRE ORCHARD. 51

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 by one in her mouth ;
not the happy little things that they were, but
bleeding and crying pitifully; they had all had a
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 protect the delicate part of
their ears from dust and injury, was gone forever.
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 crea-
tures ?”

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 very much excited; she flung
up ber head with flashing eyes and distended nos-
: trils, declaring that men were both brutes and block-
heads.

“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



52 BLACK BEAUTY.

‘Who talks about blockheads ? I believe that is a
bad word.”

“Bad words were made for bad things,” said Gin-
ger, and she told him what Sir Oliver had said.

“Tt 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 does n’t seem fair or grateful, and you know
there are good masters and good grooms beside 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, es-
pecially Sir Oliver, who was dearly fond of his mas-
ter; 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, the roan cob,
in his calm way, “to prevent horses from shying and
starting, and getting so frightened as to cause acci-
dents.”

“ 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, “ ex-
cept the fashion ; they say that a horse would be so
frightened to see the wheels of his own cart or car-
riage 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



A TALK IN THE .ORCHAED. 53

pleasant, but we don’t run away; we are used to it,
and understand it, and if we never had 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 fright-
ened when they were young, who may be the better
for them; but as I never was nervous, J can’t judge.”

“T consider” said Sir Oliver, “that blinkers are
dangerous things in the night ; we horses can see
much better in the dark than men can, and many an
accident would never have happened if horses might
have had the full use of their eyes. Some years
ago, I remember, there was a hearse with two horses
returning oné dark night, and just by farmer Spar-
row’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 wp that
might be easily seen, but if those horses had not been
partly blinded, they would of themselves have kept
farther from the edge, and no accident would have
happened. When our master’s carriage was over-
turned, 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 ¢f 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,



54 BLACK BEAUTY.

the carriage was broken, and how John escaped no
body knew.”

“JT should say,” said Ginger, curling 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 Mer-
tylegs held up his knowing little face and said, “TI 711
tell you a secret: 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 ther, 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 conversation, and got up our spirits by
_ munching some very sweet apples which lay scat-
tered on the grass.







CHAPTER XI.

PLAIN SPEAKING,

HE longer I lived at Birtwick, the more
proud and happy I felt at having such a
i place. Our master and mistress were re-
paced and beloved by all who knew them; they
were good and kind to everybody and See nee
not only men and women, but horses and donkeys,
dogs and cats, cattle and birds; there was no op-
pressed 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
check-reins cn the cart horses done away with,
and in our parts you seldom saw them ; and some-
times 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 mis-
_ tress. I wish all ladies were like her. Our master,
: too, used to come down very heavy sometimes. I






56 BLACK BEAUTY.

remember he was riding me towards home one morn-
ing, when we saw a powerful man driving towards
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 towards 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 it-
self, it was going on, when he began to lash it furi-
ously; 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 was a 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



PLAIN SPEAKING. 57

to do with it. I must say, Mr. Sawyer, that more
unmanly, brutal treatment of a little pony, it was
never my painful lot 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 to-
wards 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 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 grays
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 hand-
some 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 still hold that pet scheme of
yours for worrying your horses and lessening their
power.”

“What do you mean,” said the other, “the
check-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, “as well as any man, but
I don’t like to see them held up; that takes all



58 BLACK BEAUTY.

the shine out of it. Now you are a 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 toa 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 accord-
ing to common sense, and a good deal less according
to fashion, we should find many things work easier ;
besides, you know as 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.





CHAPTER XII

A STORMY DAY.

SNE day late in the autumn my master had
#} a long journey to go on business. I was -
=A) 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 pleas-
antly. There had been a great deal of rain, and now
the wind was very high and blew the dry leaves
across the road inashower. 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.

The man at the gate said the river was rising fast, ©
and he feared it would bea bad night. Many of the
meadows were under water, and in one low part of
the road, the water was halfway up to my knees;
the bottom was good, and master aroxe 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 ©





60 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 awk-
ward 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, forI 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 ina moment at my
head. 2
“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 bea
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 some-



A STORMY DAY. 61

times when the floods were out, master did not stop.
We were going along at a good pace, but the mo-
ment my feet touched the first part of the bridge, I
felt sure there was something wrong. J 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 me a 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



62 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 flow-
ing 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
themselves ; but he had given animals knowledge
which did not depend on reason, and which was
much more prompt and perfect in iis way, and by
which they had often saved the lives of men. John
had many stories to tell of dogs and 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 dreadful 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, say-
ing, “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



A STORMY DAY. 63

heard no more, as they went into the house, and
John took me to the stable. Oh, what a good sup-
per 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 1 was tired.







CHAPTER XTIL

THE DEVIL’S TRADE MARK.

aNE day when John and I had been out on
{| some business of our master’s, and were

e=Aq] 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 dan-
gling 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 may be a little scratching will
teach you not to leap a pony over a gate that is too






THE DEVIL’S TRADE MARK. 65

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 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,”

“JT should think, sir,” said John, “he had better
be without a rider, unless he can be ridden prop-
erly.”

“What do you mean?” said the farmer.

“Well, six, I saw your son whipping, and kicking,
and knocking that good little pony about shame-
fully, 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, J did not feel in-
clined to do so. There’s no bones broken, sir, he “Il
only get a few scratches. I love horses, and it riles
me to see them badly used; it is a bad plan to ag-
gravate an animal till he uses his heels; the first
time is not always the last.”

During this time the mother began to ery, “Oh,
my poor Bill, J must go and meet him, he must be
hurt.”



66 BLACK BEAUTY.

“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 ilk used that pony, and I
shall stop it. I am much obliged to you, Manly.
Good-evening.”

So we went on, 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 lahor-
ers’ sons were all alike. I well remember one day,
just before afternoon school, 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 flies,
some crushed and some crawling about helpless, and
I showed him the wings on the window sill. I
never 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



THE DEVIL’S TRADE MARK. 67

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 tormentor
to the end. On the other hand, where we saw peo-
ple who loved their neighbors, and were kind to man
and beast, we might know that was God’s mark, for
‘God is Love.’”

“Your master never taught you a ance thing,”
said John; “there is no religion without love, and
people may talk as much as they like about en re-
ligion, 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 ex-
Wi ercise, and was strapping my cloth on, and
dacs 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 make of
James.”

“Complaint, sir? ‘No, sir.”

“Ts 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 houses where he has no business, leaving
the horses outside ?”






JAMES HOWARD. 69

“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’s character, but
I will say this, sir, that a steadier, pleasanter, hon-
ester, 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 atten-
tive, but as John finished his speech, @ 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 opin-
ion 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



70 BLACK BEAUTY.

him and get into his ways, who would be able, when
the old man was pensioned off, to step into his place.
He would have eighteen shillings a week at first, a
stable suit, a driving suit, a bedroom over the coach-
house, and a boy under him. Sir Clifford is a good
master, and if you could get the place it would be a
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.” a

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

“ Nineteen next May, sir.”

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

“Well, sir, itis young; but he is as steady as a
man, and 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 care-
ful, 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, ina
month or six weeks, as it suited his master, and in
the meantime he was to get all the practice in driv-
ing that could be given to him. I never knew the



JAMES HOWARD. 71

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 in 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 goto 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
together; 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.







CHAPTER XV.
THE OLD OSTLER.

aUTER this, it was decided by my master
ey] and mistress to pay a visit to some friends
=) who lived about forty-six miles from our
Haina: aud James was to drive them. The first day
we traveled 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 brake 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 usa 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 a very 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





THE OLD OSTLER. 73

waistcoat. I never saw a man unbuckle hamess so
quickly as he did, and with a pat and a good word
he led me to along 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 °t would be a pity if it did n’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 could n’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



74. BLACK BEAUTY.

horses, of course I could n’t, so 1 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’il telbh you what sort of a groom he
has had. Wook 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 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-met-
tled, it makes them vicious or dangerous; their
tempers are mostly made when they are young.
Bless you! they are like children, train’em up in
the way they should go, as the good book says, and
when they are old they will not depart from i, it
they have a chance, 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 bea
proper question. I should judge he is a good one,
from what I see.”

“He is Squire Gordon, of Birtwick 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 ?”

“TI believe he is,” said James, “but he rides



THE OLD OSTLER. 75

very little now, since the poor young master was
killedy 7

“Ah! poor gentleman; I read all about it in the
paper at the time; a fine horse killed too, was n’t
there?”

“Yes,” said James, “he was a splendid creature,
brother to this one, and just like him.”

“Pity | pity!” said the old man, “’t was a bad
place to leap, if I remember; a thin fence at top, a
steep bank down to the on was n’t it? no
chance for a horse to see where he is going. Now,
Iam for bold riding as much as any man, but still
there are some leaps that only a very knowing old
huntsman has any right to take; a man’s lifeand 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 Gin-
ger, and had brought our corn, and James and the
old man left the stable together.







CHAPTER XVL

THE FIRE.

eae ATER on in the evening, a traveler’s horse

253; was brought in by the second ostler, and
: i) whilst he was cleaning him, a young man
with a pipe in his mouth lounged into the stable to
gossip.

“T 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.

TI cannot say how long I had slept, nor what time
in the night it was, but I woke up very uncomfort-
able, though I hardly knew why. I gotup; 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 crack-





THE FIRE. (7

ling and snapping. I did not know what it was, but
there was something in the sound so strange, that it
made me tremble all over. The other horses were
now all awake; some were pulling at their halters,
others were stamping.

At last I heard steps outside, and the ostler who
had put up the traveler’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, and 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.



78 BLACK BEAUTY

“Come, Beauty, on with your bridle, my boy,
we ll soon be out of this smother.” Jt 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 some-
body ! 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 upa
shrill whinny as I saw him go. Ginger told me af-
terwards, that whinny was the best thing I could
_ have done for her, for had she not heard me outside,
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 dina
loud clear voice, which I knew was master’s, —

“James Howard! James Howard! Are you
there?” There was no answer, but I heard a crash
of something falling in the stable, and the next mo-
ment I gave aloud 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
his shoulder, “are you hurt ?”



THE FIRE. 79

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, well 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 roll-
ing 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 ex-
cept 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 en-
tirely 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



80 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 happy, and I thought
the master was proud of him. Our mistress had
been so much alarmed in the night, that the jour-
ney was put off till the afternoon, so James had the
morning 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 ostler 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 remember
our John Manly’s rule, never to allow a pipe in the
stable, and thought it ought to be the rule every-
where.

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.

JHE 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
ciesn snug stable; there was a kind coachman, who
made us very Ron erenie! 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.”

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






82 BLACK BEAUTY.

to come, and his 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 agree-
able to try him for six weeks.”

“Six weeks!” said James; “why, it will be six
months 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 are avery good man,” said James. “I wish
I may ever be like you.”

“JT don’t often speak of myself,” said John, “ but
as you are going away from us out into the world,
to shift for yourself, Ill 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. Iwas 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, comfortable 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



JOHN MANLY’S TALK. 83

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,
Iam 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
dott

“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 Nor-
man 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 ora 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



84 BLACK BEAUTY.

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
you a 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 straw and hay; he began
to clean the harness, and helped to wash the car-
riage. 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. :

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.”

“ Ay, James, lad, so it is; but I should not think
much of you, if you could leave your home for the



JOHN MANLY’S TALK, 85

first time and not feelit. Cheer up, youll 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 gallop-
ing 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 en-
couraged about him.







CHAPTER XVIIL
GOING FOR THE DOCTOR.

q NE night, a few days after James had left, I
i} had eaten my hay and was lying down in
Ds my straw fast asleep, ‘when I was suddenly
eae by the stable bell ringing very loud. I heard
the door of John’s house open, and his feet running
up to the Hall. He was back again in no time; he
unlocked the stable door, and ‘came in, calling out,
“Wake up, Beauty! You must go well now, if ever
you did;” and almost before I could think, he had
got the saddle 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’ 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 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





GOING FOR THE DOCTOR. 87

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.

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 Newmarket,
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.”



88 BLACK BEAUTY.

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.”

All right,” he said ; “I will soon be ready.”

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.”

“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 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. Iwas glad to get home; my
legs shook under me, and I could only stand and



GOING FOR THE DOCTOR. 89

pant. I had nota 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 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 pailful 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.



Full Text

The Baldwin Library

RmB mora


ye

Sen VE

eS
The American Humane Education Society. |




GLoryY TO
GOD,
PEACE ON EARTH,
KINDNESS, JUSTICE
AND MERCY TO
Every LIviING
CREATURE.






vy
S
m
2








GEO. T. ANGELL, President.
JOSEPH L. STEVENS, Secretary,
Hon. HENRY O. HOUGHTON, Treasurer.

(OF HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.)

THE AMERICAN HUMANE EDUCATION SOCIETY.
The first Society of its kind in the World.

The American Humane Education Society, the first of its kind in
the world, was incorporated as a National Society by Act of the Leg-
islature of Massachusetts, March, 1889, with power to hold half
a million of dollars free from taxation.

It received during its 7rs¢ year in its permanent fund real estate
given by its president, valued at over three thousand dollars, and for
present and future use money given by persons in various States to
the amount of over eight thousand dollars more.

Its object is to carry humane education into all our American
schools and homes, and to found “Humane Societies” and “ Bands
of Mercy” over the whole American Continent.

In its frst year it founded in Western States fourteen new “ Hu-
mane Societies” and four hundred and sixty-six new “ Bands of
Mercy ;” offered prizes to the students in all our American Colleges.
also to all American editors, for best essays on the Effect of Humane
Education on the Prevention of Crime ; employed an active mission-
ary, and sent nearly a hundred thousand copies of humane publica-
tions into every State and Territory except Alaska,

Its directors are among our most respected citizens. ‘

All persons wishing information as to what it has already done
and is proposing to do will receive prompt answers by writing.

GEO. T. ANGELL,
President of the American Humane Education Society, the Massachusetts

Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and the Pareni Amer-

ican Band of Mercy, 19 Milk Street, Boston. ’

ton, Warch 1, 1890.
The American Humane Education Society.

RATES OF SOCIETY MEMBERSHIP :

Active Life = 3 = - $100.00
Associate Life — - S - 50.00
Active Annual : z - 10.00
Associate Annual Soe gy 5.00

All members receive “ OuR DUMB ANIMALS” and
other publications free.

OFFICES OF THE SOCIETY :

GODDARD BUILDING, 19 MILK STREET,
COR. HAWLEY ST., BOSTON.

WILLS.

To those who wish to remember in their wills our “ American
Alumane Education Society” I would say that the Trustees of the
Permanent Fund of the Society have a box in the Union Safe De-
posit Vaults, State Street, Boston, as has also the undersigned,
where such wills can be preserved, and where several wills already
made in favor of the Society are now deposited.

To guard against accident I recommend that all wells de executed
v2 duplicate or triplicate, and so kept in different places.

After a will is made it is very little cost or trouble to make one
or two copies, and execute all at the same time with same witnesses,
and in the last clause of each write chad tt is executed tn mee ects or
triplicate, as the case may be.

All persons wishing to give property by will to the Society can
have their wills written without charge by applying to

GEO. T. ANGELL,
President of the American Humane Education Society, the Massa-
chusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and the
Parent American Band of Mercy, 19 Milk Street, Boston.

Bosron, March 1, 1890.
Killing Animals Humanely.

Humanity requires that animals be killed in the quick-
est and least painful manner. The following circular has
been sent by our AMERICAN Humane Epucation Socr-
ETY very widely through the country,

THE HORSE.



SHootinc. — Place the pistol muzzle within a few inches
of the head, and shoot at the dot, aiming toward the centre
of the head.

Biows. — Blindfold, and with a heavy axe or hammer
strike just below the foretop, at the point indicated in the
present cut. Two vigorous, well-directed blows will make
death sure.

8e careful not to shoot or strike too low.


THE DOG,



SHootinc. — Place the pistol muzzle near the head,
aiming a little one side of the centre of the top of the
skull, and shoot downward at the dot, so that the bullet
shall go through the brain into or toward the neck.

Do not shoot too low or directly in the middle, because of
thick bones.



After much consultation with veterinary surgeons and
experts, no better or more merciful method of killing cats
has been found than to put, with a long-handled wooden
spoon, about half a teaspoonful of pure cyanide of potas-
sium on the cat’s tongue, as near the throat as possible.
The suffering is only for a few seconds. Great care must
be used to get sure cyanide of potassium, and to keep it
tightly corked.

For further information, when needed, write

GEO. T. ANGELL,
President of the American Humane Education Society,
the Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cru
elty to Animals, and the Parent American Band of
Mercy, 19 Milk Street, Boston.
























le ea

< NE









Za

IN THE DAYTIME I RAN BY HER SIDE.
BLACK BEAUTY
HIS GROOMS AND COMPANIONS
The “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” of the Horse

BY

A. SEWELL















ILLUSTRATED

BOSTON
D LOTHROP COMPANY

WASHINGTON STREET OPPOSITE BROMFIELD
ALPHABETICAL INDEX OF “BLACK BEAUTY.’

PREPARED BY JAMES A. BLAISDELL, OF BELOIT, WIS.

—e—
Bits, 38, 149.
Blinders, 52-54,
Breaking in, well, 16-20, 99; badly, 32-37, 106,
Cab horses, overdriven, 171; standing in cold, 220.
Cab licenses, exorbitant, 194-196. . ” 5
Check-rein, with, 38-41, 57, 58, 107-110; without, 41; in carting,

227-230

Cockneys, 137, ete.

Cruelty, effect of, 56-67, 191; interfering with, 96, 191, 192.

Docking, 49-51.

Drink habit, in grooms, 119-123, 215, 216.

Driving, 48, 72; cruelty in, 56, 106, 137; tight rein, 132; loose
rein, 133.

Exercise, necessity of, 151, 223.

Exhausted horses, treatment for, 235,

Feed, 63, 145, 203.

Fire, management of horses in, 77, 78.

Fright from railroad trains, to cure, 19.

Groom, training for, 68-71.

Grooming, 27, 28, 41; kindness in, 42, 48, 108.

Heated horses, care for, 89; watering, 162.

Horse-balls, ‘‘ Birtwiek,” 43.

Hunting, danger in, 12-15, 75, 128.

Instinet of horses, 61-63.

Killing horses, 200, 217.°

Leg, length of, in affecting paces, 140.

Overdriving of cab horses, 171, 236; cart horses, 202 ; public re-
sponsible for, 203.

Overloading, 201, 227-230.

Shoes, 18 ; loose nails in, 121, 122.

Skittish and spirited horses, 31.

Stalls, 21, 22; slope in, 131; cleaning, 150; light in, 231.

Stones in hoof, 134, 135. .

Stumbling, cause and cure, 151.

Sunday use of horses, 162, 177-182, 184-187.

Thrush, 151, 152.

War horses, 163-169.

Watering, 162.

Whipping, 233.

Wounds, care of, 109; ent feet, 126; legs, 126.

Wornout horses, treatment for, 241.

The Riverside Press, Cambridge Mass., U. S. A.
Eiectrotyped aud Printed by 11.0. Houghton & Company.
CONTENTS.

———
PAGE
InrRopucTrorY CHAPTER . 5 e ° 5 x Reis)
PART I.

CHAPTER
I. My Earty Home ‘ Si 5 . B 5.)
II. Tae Hont 5 : G E . i s 12
Ill. My Breaxine In 5 ; e : . - 16
IV. Bretwick Park . = 5 . - nee ena
V. A Far Srarr . ; 5 6 ° = « 2
VI. Liperty . : : . 5 . 5 s 30
VII. Ginczr : : ; is IO?
VII. Ginerr’s cronae CONTINUED . , a é 37
IX. MeRRYLEGS . : 5 % 0 0 . 44
K. A TALK IN THE Oncaea 5 : . O 48
XI. Priam SPeaKine a C ; 0 a » 55
XII. A Srormy Day é . d ‘ cs 59
XII. Tue Devit's Trape ee fs ? s - 64
XIV. James Howarp . . 5 ; G - ° 68
XV. Tae Oxp OstLEeR ‘ 5 : A 5 ome,
XVI. Tue Firs - 5 : 9 ‘ . peeienO
XVII. Jonn Manty’s TALK ers ae enter er Ol
XVIII. Gorse ror tae Docror. .- : é 5 86
XIX. Onty IecnorAnce . { 5 = 5 e - 91
XX. Jon GREEN 5 5 : G 5 js 5 94
XXI Tas Partine . S : ° 5 - 98

PART If.

XXIL EartsHatn 3 0 ° 5 . - 102
XXII. A Srrixe ror Rene : 5 - 107

XXIV. a Lapy ANNE, OR A REN HORSE seeemklele
iv CONTENTS.

XXV. Revsen Suite . , r : . . . 119
XXVI. How ir Enpep . ° , ; - 124
XXVII. Rournep, anp Goine Deynan : . 128
XXVIII. A Jos Horst anp nis Drivers. . . 182
XXIX. Cocxnerys . is 5 A di : 5 . 187
XXK. A Tuer : A : i E 5 . 145
XXXI. A Humesue ; . s : | 5 . 149
PART III.
XXXII. A Horst Farm . i a 6 . - 153
XXXII. A Lonpon Cas Horse . : : 2 . 158
XXXIV. An Otp War Horse . : : : - 163
XXXV. Jerry BARKER ‘i _ ‘ 7 4 . 170
XXXVI. Tue Sunpay Cas : 3 @ : Seeley
XXXVII- Tue Gonpen Rute . 7 , ‘J . 183
XXXVITI. Dotny anp a REAL GENTLEMAN : - 188
XXXIX. Serpy Sam : : : 5 5 . 193
XL. Poor Gincer : . ; ; : - 198
XLI. Tre Botcuer . 3 ; : . ; . 201
XLUL. Tas Evecrion. i 3 ‘ Seer 200)
XLITI. A Frrenp iw NrEep : : ; . 208
XLIV. Oxp CaprarIn AND HIS SuccEssoR 5 . 214
XLV. Jerry’s New YEAR : 3 : . 220
PART IV.
XLVI. JakEs AND THE Lapy. : : A SeoeiT
XLVIL Harp Timzs_. c . 232
XLVIII. Farmer THOROUGHGOOD AND HIS Granneon
WILE i - 5 6 . a 3

XLIX. My Lasr Home. 6 c 65 . fi « 242


INTRODUCTORY -CHAPTER,

THE UNCLE TOM’S CABIN OF THE HORSE.

AOR more than twenty years this thought
has been upon my mind.

Somebody must write a book which shall
be as widely read as “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” and shall
have as widespread and powerful influence in abol-
ishing eruelty to horses, as “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”
had on the abolition of human slavery.

Many times, by letter and word of mouth, I have
called the attention of American writers to this
matter and asked them to undertake it.

At last the book has come to me; not from
America, but from England, where already over
ninety thousand copies have been sold.

It was written by a woman, Anna Sewell.

It is the autobiography of an English horse, tell-
ing of kind masters and cruel, of happiness and of
suffering. Jam glad to say that happiness predomi-
nates and finally triumphs.

I have read each of its two hundred and thirty-
eight beautifully printed pages from its cheenful



6 BLACK BEAUTY.

beginning to its happy end, and then called in the
printers. es

Through the kind gifts of friends I am enabled to
pay $265 for having it electrotyped, and through the
kindness of another friend am enabled to print a
first edition of ten thousand, at the marvelously low
price of twelve cents each—to which must be added,
when sent by mail, eight cents for postage, etc.

As I have said, over ninety thousand copies have
been already sold in England.

I want to print immediately a hundred thousand
copies.

I want the power to give away thousands of these
to drivers of horses, and in public schools, and else-
where.

I want to send a copy postpaid to the editors of
each of about thirteen thousand American newspa-
pers and magazines.

I would be glad to have each reader of this paper,
who has ever loved or cared for a horse, send me as
large a check as he or she can afford, to be used in
the distribution of this book.

Every such check will be acknowledged in “ Our
Dumb Animals,” and at once passed into the treas-.
ury of our “American Humane Education Society,”
and be promptly used for the purpose for which it
is sent.

I would be glad, if I had the means, to put a copy
of it in every home in America, for I am sure there
has never been a book printed in any language, the
reading of which will be more likely to inspire love
and kind care for these dumb servants and friends
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. q

who toil and die in our service. I hope to live
long enough to print and distribute a million copies.

Tur Tirte oF THE Boor 1s “Buiack Bravry,
His Grooms AND CoMPANIONs.”

GEO. T. ANGELL,

President of the American Humane Education Society, the
Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to
Animals, and the Parent American Band of Mercy,
19 Milk Street, Boston.

Boston, February 12, 1890.





BLACK BEAUTY.
PART I.



CHAPTER I.
MY EARLY HOME.

HE first place that I can well remember was a
large pleasant meadow with a pond of clear
water in it. 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 a
gate at our master’s house, which stood by the road-
side; at the top of the meadow was a grove 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 daytime I
ran by her side, and at night I lay down close by
her. When it was hot, we used to stand by the
pond in the shade of the trees, and when it was
cold, we had a nice warm shed near the grove.

As soon as I was old enough to eat grass, my
mother used to go out to work in the daytime, and
come back in the evening.


10 BLACK BEAUTY.

There were six young colts in the meadow be-
sides me; they were older than I was; some were
_ nearly as large as grown-up horses. J used to run

with them, and had great fun; we used to gallop all
together round and round the field as hard as we
could go. 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 J 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 father has a
great name in these parts, and your grandfather
won the cup two years at the Newmarket races;
your grandmother 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 when 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
MY EARLY HOME. il

much. 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 favor-
ites. My mother always took him to the town on
a market day 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 such a 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 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 IT.

THE HUNT.

NEFORE I was two years old, a circumstance
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 woods and meadows. I and the other colts
were feeding at the lower part of the field when
we heard, quite in the distance, what sounded like
the ery 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 on a “yo! yo,o,0! 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



















THE HUNT.
THE HUNT. 138

horse snorted and looked eagerly after them, and we
young colts 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 enough it
may be one of our own hares out of the woods; any
hare they can find will do for the dogs and men to
run after;” and before long the dogs began their
“yo! yo, o, o!” again, and back they came alto-
gether at full speed, making straight for our meadow
at the part where the high bank and hedge 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 woods. 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.
14 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 a sad sight; two fine horses
were down, one was struggling 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.

“ His 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.

“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 saying this, we stood and
looked on. Many of the riders had gone to the
young man; but my master, who had been watch-
ing 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. They 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. |

There was now riding off in all directions to the
‘doctor’s, to the farrier’s, and no doubt to Squire
THE HUNT. 15

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 a gun; 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 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 fora 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 forehead. 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 JI 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 erupper, and a breech-


*
MY BREAKING IN. 17

ing, and to stand still whilst they are put on; then
to have a cart or a chaise fixed behind, 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
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 wea- -
riness. So you see this breaking in is a great thing.

I had of course long been used to a halter and a
headstall, and to be led about in the field 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.
18 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 soi on my back and rode me
round the m adow cn the soft grass. It certainly
did feel queer; but I must say I felt rather proud
to carry my master, and as he cantinued to ride me
a little every day, I soon became accustomed to it.

The next pleasant 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. The black-
smith took my feet *. his hand, one after the other,
and ‘1t 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 ~f 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
to wear. 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
MY BREAKING IN. 19

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
averything, and could do my work as well as my
mother.

I must not forget to mention one part of my train-
ing, which I have always considered a very great
advantage. My master sent me for a fortnight to a
neighboring 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 feeding quietly near the pales which sepa-
rated 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 some-
thing flew by, and was gone almost before I could

.draw my breath. J turned and galloped to the fur-
ther side of the meadow as fast as I could go, and
there I stood snorting with astonishment and fear.
In the 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 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
20 BLACK BEAUTY.

into the field, or did me any harm, I began to dis-
regard it, and very soon I cared as little about the
passing of a train as the cows and sheep did.

Since then J 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 fear-
less at railway stations as in my own stable.

Now if any one wants to break in a 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 behaved 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, thought-
ful men like our master, that any horse may be
proud to serve; and 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 1
say, do your best wherever it is, and keep up your
good name.”


CHAPTER IV.

BIRTWICK PARK.

mT this time I used to stand in the stable, and
“| my coat was brushed every day till it shone
| like a rook’s wing. Jt was early in May,
etek there came a man from Squire Gordon’s, who
took me away to the Hall. My master said, “ Good-
by, Darkie; be a good horse, and always do your
best.” I could not say “good-by,” 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 Birt-
wick. 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
the home paddock, the old orchard, and the stables.
There was accommodation for many horses and car-
riages; 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


22, BLACK BEAUTY.

behind with a wooden gate ; the others were common
stalls, good stalls, but not nearly so large; it had a
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 hc
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 ina 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.

When I had eaten my corn, I looked round. In
the stall next to mine stood a little fat gray 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, “1 hope you are good-tem-
pered ; 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
BIRTWICK PARK. 23

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 is a very 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
T had nothing to do with it; and as to my being a
colt, I am 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.” I said no more.

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

“The thing ig 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 dared not come, and I missed them very much.
| hope they will now come again, if you do not bite
or snap.” :

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

“Well, I don’t think she does find pleasure,” says
Merrylegs ; “it 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 mas-
" ter 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, “I am twelve years old; I
know a great deal, and J 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 such a
kind boy as James is, so that it is all Ginger’s own
fault that she did not stay in that box.”






CHAPTER V.

A FAIR START.



JHE name of the coachman was John Manly;
he had a wife and one little child, and they
acm) 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 around after breakfast; go
by the common and the Highwood, and back by the
watermill and the river; that will show his paces.”

“J 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 a saddle, but it
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.”


26 BLACK BEAUTY.

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

“Well, John, how does he go?”

“ First-rate, sir,” answered John; “he is as fleet
as a deer, and has a fine spirit too; but the lightest
touch of the rein will guide him. Down at the end
of the common we met one of those traveling 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 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.”

“That’s well,” said the Squire, “I will try him
myself to-morrow.”

The next day I was brought up for my master. I
remembered 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.”
A FAIR START. 27

“ 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, “he 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 sensi-
ble 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 bring-
ing 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.

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
28 BLACK BEAUTY.

wanted me todo. J grew very fond of him, he was
so genile 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 carefully 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 pleasant 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 har-
ness. When we came to a 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
A FAIR START. — 29

friends ; he was such a cheerful, plucky, good-tem-
pered little fellow, that he was a favorite 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 an-
other 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 favorite with the master, who
gave him the run of the park; he sometimes 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.

a, 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 J 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, lam 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 bec. 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


LIBERTY. 3l

I would, it seemed as if I must jump, or dance, or
prance, and 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
called skittish, when it is only play; and some grooms
will 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, 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. 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 our feet, the air . sweet, and the
freedom to do as we liked was so pleasant —to gal-
lop, 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 VIL
GINGER,

NE day when Ginger and I were standing
alone in the shade, we had a great deal of

w) 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 had as good a temper as you, 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 [ 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. Lhe man that had the care of us never
gaveme a kind word in my life. Ido not 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






fm
fa

A

AUK



GINGER.
GINGER. 33

face, and I should think it would be a sear for life.
We did not care for them, but of course it made us
more wild, and we settled it in our minds 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
if 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
ou the halter and the bar into my mouth; then one
dragged me along by the halter, another flogging be-
hind, and this was the first experience I had of
men’s kindness; it was all force. They did not give
mea chance to know what they wanted. Iwas high
bred and had a great deal of spirit, and was very
wild, no doubt, and gave them, I dare say, plenty of
trouble, but then it was dreadful to be shut up ina
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 anything with me; but he had given
up all the hard part of the trade to his son and to
another experienced man, and he only came at times
B4 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 all that he
thought about,” and Ginger stamped her foot as if
the very thought of him made her angry. Then she
went on:—_

“Tf I 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 forme. One
day he had worked me hard in every way he could,
and when I laid down I was tired, and miserable,
and angry; it all seemed so hard. The next morn-
ing 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 ground, when something I did put him out
of temper, and he chucked me hard with the rein.
The new bit was very painful, and I reared up sud-
denly, 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;
GINGER. 35

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 ter-
tible struggle, I threw him off backwards. I heard
him fall heavily on the turf, and without looking be-
hind 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 tree and watched, but no one
came to catch me. The time went on, and 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 or.
ders it was so steady and decided, that every one
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,
36 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 fear away. He stood by, patting and
stroking me whilst I was eating, and seeing 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
stable-man 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 comfort-
able. 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,’
GINGER. 87

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.”




CHAPTER VIIL

GINGER’S STORY CONTINUED.




5 ae next time that Ginger and I were to- .
gether in the paddock, she told me about
L All her first place.

«“ After my breaking in,” she said, “I 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. JI had been driven with a check-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. You who never had
a check-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. Besides
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 colored the froth that kept


y of g
GINGER’S STORY CONTINUED. 39

flying from my lips, as I chafed and fretted at the
bits and rein. Jt was worst when we had to stand
by the hour waiting for our mistress at some grand
party or entertainment ; and if I fretted or stamped
with impatience, the whip was laid on. It was
enough to drive one mad.”



Happy Horse — No Blinders or Check-Reim

“Did not your master take any thought for you ?”
I said.

“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 had an irritable temper; that I had not been
well broken to the check-rein, but I should soon
get used to it; but he 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,
40 BLACK BEAUTY.

I got only a surly word ora blow. If he had been
civil, I would have tried to bear it. JI was willing
to work, and ready to work hard too; but to be tor-
mented for nothing but their fancies angered me.



Cruelty.

What right had they to make me suffer like that ?
Besides the soreness in my mouth, and the pain in
my neck, i¢ 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
GINGER’S STORY CONTINUED. 41

restless and irritable, I could not help it; and I
began to snap and kick when any one came to har-
ness 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 ap-
pearance 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 least he drove me quite without a check-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 al-
ways 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 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
42 BLACK BEAUTY.

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.
oT was a pity, be 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
Jong 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; but 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 pun-
ishing 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
GINGER’S STORY CONTINUED. 43

me this morning when I had been rubbing her fore-
head.”

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

This was a little joke of John’s; ie 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,
jirmness 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.

wR. 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 your-
self, or we shall get into trouble.”

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

“Oh!” skid 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 ju8t pitched them off back-
wards; that was the only thing they could under-
stand.”

“ What?” said I, “you threw the children off? I


ro







































































































































































































MERRYLEGS.
MERRYLEGS. 45

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,
Tam as careful of our young ladies as the master
could be, and as for the little 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
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 gal-
loped 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 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 ora
thrashing machine, and can go on as long and 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
46 BLACK BEAUTY. :

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 them 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 gypsies, and not for young gentlemen.”

“Tf 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
T 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 entrusted to
me. 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 Merry-
legs will take as much care of them as you or [
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 un-
grateful 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
MERRYLEGS. AT

tell you good places make good horses. J would n’t
vex our people for anything; I love them, I do,”
said Merrylegs, and he gave a low “ho, ho, ho,”
through 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, “I hope I shall never come to
that.”




CHAPTER X.

A TALK IN THE ORCHARD.

SZSINGER and I were not of the regular tall
a ° carriage horse breed, we had more of the
ASA!) yvacing blood in us. We stood about fifteen
and a half hands high; we were therefore just as
good for riding as we were for driving, and our mas-
ter 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 of horse. 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 and Merry-
legs. It was so cheerful to be trotting and can-
tering 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 rein, 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 and a
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



A TALK IN THE ORCHARD. 49

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 honor; 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 ven-
tured 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! 7 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 off my long
beautiful tail, through the flesh and through the
bone, and took it away.”

“How dreadful!” I exclaimed.

“Dreadful, ah! it was dreadful; but it was not
only the pain, though that was terrible and lasted a
50 BLACK BEAUTY.

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.”

‘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.”

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

“ Of course it is,” said he; “to my mind, fashion
is one of the wickedest things in the world. Now
look, for instance, at the way they serve dogs, cut-
ting 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
A TALK IN TRE ORCHARD. 51

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 by one in her mouth ;
not the happy little things that they were, but
bleeding and crying pitifully; they had all had a
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 protect the delicate part of
their ears from dust and injury, was gone forever.
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 crea-
tures ?”

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 very much excited; she flung
up ber head with flashing eyes and distended nos-
: trils, declaring that men were both brutes and block-
heads.

“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
52 BLACK BEAUTY.

‘Who talks about blockheads ? I believe that is a
bad word.”

“Bad words were made for bad things,” said Gin-
ger, and she told him what Sir Oliver had said.

“Tt 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 does n’t seem fair or grateful, and you know
there are good masters and good grooms beside 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, es-
pecially Sir Oliver, who was dearly fond of his mas-
ter; 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, the roan cob,
in his calm way, “to prevent horses from shying and
starting, and getting so frightened as to cause acci-
dents.”

“ 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, “ ex-
cept the fashion ; they say that a horse would be so
frightened to see the wheels of his own cart or car-
riage 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
A TALK IN THE .ORCHAED. 53

pleasant, but we don’t run away; we are used to it,
and understand it, and if we never had 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 fright-
ened when they were young, who may be the better
for them; but as I never was nervous, J can’t judge.”

“T consider” said Sir Oliver, “that blinkers are
dangerous things in the night ; we horses can see
much better in the dark than men can, and many an
accident would never have happened if horses might
have had the full use of their eyes. Some years
ago, I remember, there was a hearse with two horses
returning oné dark night, and just by farmer Spar-
row’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 wp that
might be easily seen, but if those horses had not been
partly blinded, they would of themselves have kept
farther from the edge, and no accident would have
happened. When our master’s carriage was over-
turned, 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 ¢f 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,
54 BLACK BEAUTY.

the carriage was broken, and how John escaped no
body knew.”

“JT should say,” said Ginger, curling 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 Mer-
tylegs held up his knowing little face and said, “TI 711
tell you a secret: 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 ther, 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 conversation, and got up our spirits by
_ munching some very sweet apples which lay scat-
tered on the grass.




CHAPTER XI.

PLAIN SPEAKING,

HE longer I lived at Birtwick, the more
proud and happy I felt at having such a
i place. Our master and mistress were re-
paced and beloved by all who knew them; they
were good and kind to everybody and See nee
not only men and women, but horses and donkeys,
dogs and cats, cattle and birds; there was no op-
pressed 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
check-reins cn the cart horses done away with,
and in our parts you seldom saw them ; and some-
times 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 mis-
_ tress. I wish all ladies were like her. Our master,
: too, used to come down very heavy sometimes. I



56 BLACK BEAUTY.

remember he was riding me towards home one morn-
ing, when we saw a powerful man driving towards
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 towards 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 it-
self, it was going on, when he began to lash it furi-
ously; 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 was a 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
PLAIN SPEAKING. 57

to do with it. I must say, Mr. Sawyer, that more
unmanly, brutal treatment of a little pony, it was
never my painful lot 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 to-
wards 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 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 grays
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 hand-
some 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 still hold that pet scheme of
yours for worrying your horses and lessening their
power.”

“What do you mean,” said the other, “the
check-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, “as well as any man, but
I don’t like to see them held up; that takes all
58 BLACK BEAUTY.

the shine out of it. Now you are a 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 toa 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 accord-
ing to common sense, and a good deal less according
to fashion, we should find many things work easier ;
besides, you know as 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.


CHAPTER XII

A STORMY DAY.

SNE day late in the autumn my master had
#} a long journey to go on business. I was -
=A) 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 pleas-
antly. There had been a great deal of rain, and now
the wind was very high and blew the dry leaves
across the road inashower. 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.

The man at the gate said the river was rising fast, ©
and he feared it would bea bad night. Many of the
meadows were under water, and in one low part of
the road, the water was halfway up to my knees;
the bottom was good, and master aroxe 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 ©


60 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 awk-
ward 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, forI 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 ina moment at my
head. 2
“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 bea
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 some-
A STORMY DAY. 61

times when the floods were out, master did not stop.
We were going along at a good pace, but the mo-
ment my feet touched the first part of the bridge, I
felt sure there was something wrong. J 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 me a 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
62 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 flow-
ing 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
themselves ; but he had given animals knowledge
which did not depend on reason, and which was
much more prompt and perfect in iis way, and by
which they had often saved the lives of men. John
had many stories to tell of dogs and 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 dreadful 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, say-
ing, “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
A STORMY DAY. 63

heard no more, as they went into the house, and
John took me to the stable. Oh, what a good sup-
per 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 1 was tired.




CHAPTER XTIL

THE DEVIL’S TRADE MARK.

aNE day when John and I had been out on
{| some business of our master’s, and were

e=Aq] 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 dan-
gling 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 may be a little scratching will
teach you not to leap a pony over a gate that is too



THE DEVIL’S TRADE MARK. 65

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 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,”

“JT should think, sir,” said John, “he had better
be without a rider, unless he can be ridden prop-
erly.”

“What do you mean?” said the farmer.

“Well, six, I saw your son whipping, and kicking,
and knocking that good little pony about shame-
fully, 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, J did not feel in-
clined to do so. There’s no bones broken, sir, he “Il
only get a few scratches. I love horses, and it riles
me to see them badly used; it is a bad plan to ag-
gravate an animal till he uses his heels; the first
time is not always the last.”

During this time the mother began to ery, “Oh,
my poor Bill, J must go and meet him, he must be
hurt.”
66 BLACK BEAUTY.

“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 ilk used that pony, and I
shall stop it. I am much obliged to you, Manly.
Good-evening.”

So we went on, 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 lahor-
ers’ sons were all alike. I well remember one day,
just before afternoon school, 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 flies,
some crushed and some crawling about helpless, and
I showed him the wings on the window sill. I
never 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
THE DEVIL’S TRADE MARK. 67

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 tormentor
to the end. On the other hand, where we saw peo-
ple who loved their neighbors, and were kind to man
and beast, we might know that was God’s mark, for
‘God is Love.’”

“Your master never taught you a ance thing,”
said John; “there is no religion without love, and
people may talk as much as they like about en re-
ligion, 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 ex-
Wi ercise, and was strapping my cloth on, and
dacs 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 make of
James.”

“Complaint, sir? ‘No, sir.”

“Ts 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 houses where he has no business, leaving
the horses outside ?”



JAMES HOWARD. 69

“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’s character, but
I will say this, sir, that a steadier, pleasanter, hon-
ester, 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 atten-
tive, but as John finished his speech, @ 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 opin-
ion 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
70 BLACK BEAUTY.

him and get into his ways, who would be able, when
the old man was pensioned off, to step into his place.
He would have eighteen shillings a week at first, a
stable suit, a driving suit, a bedroom over the coach-
house, and a boy under him. Sir Clifford is a good
master, and if you could get the place it would be a
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.” a

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

“ Nineteen next May, sir.”

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

“Well, sir, itis young; but he is as steady as a
man, and 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 care-
ful, 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, ina
month or six weeks, as it suited his master, and in
the meantime he was to get all the practice in driv-
ing that could be given to him. I never knew the
JAMES HOWARD. 71

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 in 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 goto 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
together; 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.




CHAPTER XV.
THE OLD OSTLER.

aUTER this, it was decided by my master
ey] and mistress to pay a visit to some friends
=) who lived about forty-six miles from our
Haina: aud James was to drive them. The first day
we traveled 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 brake 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 usa 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 a very 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


THE OLD OSTLER. 73

waistcoat. I never saw a man unbuckle hamess so
quickly as he did, and with a pat and a good word
he led me to along 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 °t would be a pity if it did n’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 could n’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
74. BLACK BEAUTY.

horses, of course I could n’t, so 1 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’il telbh you what sort of a groom he
has had. Wook 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 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-met-
tled, it makes them vicious or dangerous; their
tempers are mostly made when they are young.
Bless you! they are like children, train’em up in
the way they should go, as the good book says, and
when they are old they will not depart from i, it
they have a chance, 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 bea
proper question. I should judge he is a good one,
from what I see.”

“He is Squire Gordon, of Birtwick 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 ?”

“TI believe he is,” said James, “but he rides
THE OLD OSTLER. 75

very little now, since the poor young master was
killedy 7

“Ah! poor gentleman; I read all about it in the
paper at the time; a fine horse killed too, was n’t
there?”

“Yes,” said James, “he was a splendid creature,
brother to this one, and just like him.”

“Pity | pity!” said the old man, “’t was a bad
place to leap, if I remember; a thin fence at top, a
steep bank down to the on was n’t it? no
chance for a horse to see where he is going. Now,
Iam for bold riding as much as any man, but still
there are some leaps that only a very knowing old
huntsman has any right to take; a man’s lifeand 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 Gin-
ger, and had brought our corn, and James and the
old man left the stable together.




CHAPTER XVL

THE FIRE.

eae ATER on in the evening, a traveler’s horse

253; was brought in by the second ostler, and
: i) whilst he was cleaning him, a young man
with a pipe in his mouth lounged into the stable to
gossip.

“T 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.

TI cannot say how long I had slept, nor what time
in the night it was, but I woke up very uncomfort-
able, though I hardly knew why. I gotup; 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 crack-


THE FIRE. (7

ling and snapping. I did not know what it was, but
there was something in the sound so strange, that it
made me tremble all over. The other horses were
now all awake; some were pulling at their halters,
others were stamping.

At last I heard steps outside, and the ostler who
had put up the traveler’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, and 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.
78 BLACK BEAUTY

“Come, Beauty, on with your bridle, my boy,
we ll soon be out of this smother.” Jt 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 some-
body ! 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 upa
shrill whinny as I saw him go. Ginger told me af-
terwards, that whinny was the best thing I could
_ have done for her, for had she not heard me outside,
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 dina
loud clear voice, which I knew was master’s, —

“James Howard! James Howard! Are you
there?” There was no answer, but I heard a crash
of something falling in the stable, and the next mo-
ment I gave aloud 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
his shoulder, “are you hurt ?”
THE FIRE. 79

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, well 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 roll-
ing 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 ex-
cept 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 en-
tirely 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
80 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 happy, and I thought
the master was proud of him. Our mistress had
been so much alarmed in the night, that the jour-
ney was put off till the afternoon, so James had the
morning 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 ostler 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 remember
our John Manly’s rule, never to allow a pipe in the
stable, and thought it ought to be the rule every-
where.

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.

JHE 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
ciesn snug stable; there was a kind coachman, who
made us very Ron erenie! 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.”

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



82 BLACK BEAUTY.

to come, and his 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 agree-
able to try him for six weeks.”

“Six weeks!” said James; “why, it will be six
months 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 are avery good man,” said James. “I wish
I may ever be like you.”

“JT don’t often speak of myself,” said John, “ but
as you are going away from us out into the world,
to shift for yourself, Ill 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. Iwas 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, comfortable 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
JOHN MANLY’S TALK. 83

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,
Iam 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
dott

“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 Nor-
man 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 ora 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
84 BLACK BEAUTY.

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
you a 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 straw and hay; he began
to clean the harness, and helped to wash the car-
riage. 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. :

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.”

“ Ay, James, lad, so it is; but I should not think
much of you, if you could leave your home for the
JOHN MANLY’S TALK, 85

first time and not feelit. Cheer up, youll 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 gallop-
ing 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 en-
couraged about him.




CHAPTER XVIIL
GOING FOR THE DOCTOR.

q NE night, a few days after James had left, I
i} had eaten my hay and was lying down in
Ds my straw fast asleep, ‘when I was suddenly
eae by the stable bell ringing very loud. I heard
the door of John’s house open, and his feet running
up to the Hall. He was back again in no time; he
unlocked the stable door, and ‘came in, calling out,
“Wake up, Beauty! You must go well now, if ever
you did;” and almost before I could think, he had
got the saddle 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’ 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 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


GOING FOR THE DOCTOR. 87

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.

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 Newmarket,
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.”
88 BLACK BEAUTY.

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.”

All right,” he said ; “I will soon be ready.”

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.”

“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 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. Iwas glad to get home; my
legs shook under me, and I could only stand and
GOING FOR THE DOCTOR. 89

pant. I had nota 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 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 pailful 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.
90 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 tome. My master, too, often came to see me.
“My poor Beauty,” he said one day, “my good
horse, you saved your mistress’ life, Beauty; yes,
you saved her life.” Iwas 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 go at the top of our speed, and that it was for
the sake of the mistress.




CHAPTER XIX,
ONLY IGNORANCE,

DO not know how long J 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 every one’s foot-
step 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. Af
ter 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 Merrylegs’
stall, and put down the 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, —

“T wish, John, you’d say a bit of a kind word to
Joe. The boy is quite broken-hearted; he can’t eat
his meals, and he can’t smile. He says he knows it


92 . BLACK BEAUTY.

was all his fault, though he is 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, [ 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 favorite with the master and mistress; and to
think that his life may be flung away in this man-
ner 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 mean if Beauty is better.”

“Well, John, thank you. I knew you did not
wish to be too hard, and Iam glad ygu 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 most 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 sooth-
ing-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.”
ONLY IGNORANCE. 93

“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, handsome 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.”

“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 la-
dies 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 XX,

JOE GREEN,

a OL GREEN went on very well; he learned
fe eal quickly, and was so attentive and careful
J24 that John began to trust him in many
things ; but, as ] 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 morn-
ing that John was out with Justice in the Inggage
cart, and the master wanted a note to be taken
immediately 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 re-
turning when 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 wasa 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 mest bru-

tally.


JOE GREEN. 95

“Hold hard,” said Joe; “don’t go on flogging the
horses 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. “I7ll 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 to-
wards the house of the master brickmaker. I can-
not 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 close by the roadside. Joe
knocked at the door, and shouted, “Hallo! Is Myr.
Clay at home?” The door was opened, and Mr.
Clay himself came out.

“Hallo, young man! You seem ina hurry; any
orders from the Squire this morning ?”

“No, Mr. Clay, but there ’s a fellow in your brick-
yard 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 would un’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
96 BLACK BEAUTY.

man was gone, and we were on our way home ata
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 ’t was not their business to
interfere. Now I say that with cruelty and oppres-
sion it is everybody's business to interfere 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 yourself a bit straight,” said John. Joe
gave a pull at his necktie and a twitch at his jacket,
and was off ina 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
JOE GREEN. 97

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 after-
wards 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 com.
mitted to take his trial, and might possibly be sen-
tenced 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 intoa
man.




CHAPTER XXI.

THE PARTING.

HAD now lived in this happy place three
years, but sad changes were about to come
a over us. We heard from time to time 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; in-
deed, nothing else was talked about.

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.

The first of the party who went were Miss Jessie
and Flora with their governess. They came to bid
us good-by. 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 W. .
for he thought we should have a good place there.
Merrylegs he had given to the Vicar, who was want-




THE PARTING. . 99

ing a pony for Mrs. Blomefield, but it was on the
condition that he should never be sold, and that when
he was past work he should he 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.

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.

“Wave you decided what to do, John?” he said.
“Y fmd you have not accepted either of those
offers.”

“No, sir; I have made up my mind that if I could
get a 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. J 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?”

“T don’t know a man anywhere,” said master,
“that I should think so suitable for it as yourself.
You understand horses, and somehow they under.
stand you, and in time you might set up for your-
self; 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.”
100 BLACK BEAUTY.

Master gave Jobn 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, siz,
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 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-by, 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-by, John. God bless you.” I felt the rein
twitch, but John made no answer; perhaps he could
THE PARTING. 101

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 sta-
tion; 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.








CHAPTER XXII.
EARLSHALL.

TE next morning after breakfast, Joe put
Mertrylegs into the mistress’ low chaise to
take him to the vicarage; he came first and
aan good-by to us, and 1] leery loco neighed to us
from the yard. Then John put the saddle on Gin-
ger 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 gateway, and John
asked for Mr. York. It was some time before he
came. He was a fine-looking, middle-aged man, and —
his voice said at once that he expected to be obeyed.
He was 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 refresh-
ment.

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,





EARLSHALL. 1038

York, who was to be our new coachman, came in to
see us.

“Now, Mr. Manly,” he said, after carefully look-
ing 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 differ-
ent treatment. I should like to knowif there is any-
thing 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 plea-
sure seems to be to do what you wish; but the chest-
nut, 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
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 ; anything wrong in the harness frets
her more ; and if she were ill-used or unfairly treated
she 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.”
104 BLACK BEAUTY.

They were going out of the stable, when John
stopped, and said, “I had better mention that we
have never used the check-rein with either of them;
the black horse never had one on, and the dealer
said it was the gag-bit that spoiled the other’s tem-
per.”

“Well,” said York, “if they come here, they must
wear the check-rein. I prefer a loose rein myself,
and his lordship 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 would n’t look at them. I al-
ways stand out against the gag-bit, and shall do so,
but it must be tight up when my lady rides!”

“T am sorry for it, very sorry,” said John; “but
I must go now, orI shall lose the train.”

He came round to each of us to pat and speak to
us for the last time ; his voice sounded very sad.

Theld my face close to him; that was all I could
do to say good-by; and then he was gone, and I
have never seen him since.

The next day Lord W came to look at us; he
seemed pleased with our appearance.

“T 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 color, but my idea is that they will do very well
for the carriage whilst we are in the country. Be-
fore 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


EARLSHALL. 105

mare, and put the check-rein easy ; I dare say they
will do very well with a little humoring at first. Ill
mention it to your lady.”

_In the afternoon 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 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 noth-
ing, and got into the carriage. This was the first
time of wearing a check-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
106 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 himself, one hole, I think; every little makes a
difference, be it for better or worse, and that day we
had a steep hill to goup. Then I began to under-
stand 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, for 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 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 har-
ass instead of a pleasure; but the worst was not
come,




CHAPTER XXIII.
A STRIKE FOR LIBERTY.

«(NE day my lady came down later than usual,
and the silk rustled more than overs
s6|} “Drive to the Duchess of B 8,” she
ad eal then after a pause, “Are you never ome
to get those horses’ heads up, York? Raise them
at once, and let us have no more of this humoring
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




108 BLACK BEAUTY.

York promptly sat himself down flat on her head to
prevent her struggling, at the same time 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 of the
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. I was much excited by what had happened,
and if I had ever been used to kick or rear Iam
sure.[ 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. J 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. Ina moment he let down my
head.

“Confound these check-reins!” he said to him-
self; “J 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 ser-
vant can’t; so I wash my hands of it, and if she
can’t get to the Duchess’ garden 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
A STRIKE FOR LIBERTY. 109

where I had been kicked. It was swelled and pain-
ful; 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. JI 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 was well of her bruises one of Lord
W *s younger sons said he should 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 had a 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?”

“TI can’t say,” he replied, “but the dealers and
the horse-doctors know it very well. I was ata
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




110 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 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.


CHAPTER XXTV.

THE LADY ANNE, OR A RUNAWAY HORSE,



seam ARTLY 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,
sometimes with Lizzie. This Lizzie was a bright
bay mare, almost thoroughbred, and a great favorite
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 or-
‘dered the side-saddle to be put on her, and the other
saddle on me. When we came to the door, the gen-
tleman seemed very uneasy.



112 BLACK BEAUTY.

“ How is this ?” he said. “ Are you tired of your
good Black Auster ?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” she replied, “but I am ami-
able enough to let you ride him for once, and I will
try your charming Lizzie. You must confess that
in size and appearance she is far more like a lady’s
horse than my own favorite.”

“Do let me advise you not to mount her,” he said;
“she is a charming creature, but she is too nervous
fora 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. J 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 all 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 care-
fully 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
Doctor 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 gayly
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


THE COLTS WERE WILD AND FROLICSUME,
THE LADY ANNE. 118

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 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 be-
hind 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 can-
not 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 running to the
gate; he looked anxiously about, and just caught
sight of the flying figure, now far away on the road.
114 BLACK BEAUTY.

In an instant he sprang to the saddle. I needed no
whip, no spur, for I was as eager as my rider; he
saw it, and giving me a free rein, and leaning a lit-
tle 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 fora 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 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 head-
long gallop. P

We had hardly turned on the common, when we
caught sight again of the green habit flying on be-
fore us. My lady’s hat was gone, and her long
THE LADY ANNE. 115

brown hair was streaming behind her. Her head
aud body were thrown back, as if she were pull-
ing 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 les-
sened Lizzie’s speed, and there seemed a chance that
we might overtake her.

Whilst we were on the highroad, Blantyre had
given me my head; but now, with a light hand and
a practiced eye, ne guided me over the ground in:
such a masterly manner that my pace was scarcely.
slackened, and we were decidedly gaining on them.

About half-way across the heath there had been a
wide dike recently cut, and the earth from the cut-
ting 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.
L gathered myself well together, and with one de-
termined leap cleared both dike 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 wrist, then started up and looked
wildly round him for help.

At no great distance there were two men cutting
turf, who, seeing Lizzie running wild without a rider,
had left their work to catch her.
116 BLACK BEAUTY.

Blantyre’s hallo soon brought them to the spot.
The foremost 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 uncom.
mon good to my wife in the winter.”

“Then mount this horse, 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 Lady Anne’s maid and help. I shall
stay here.”

“ All right, sir, I Il 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 Lady Anne.”

He then somehow scrambled 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 dike. 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 some-
thing. “No, no,” he said; “Ill be back to ’em
THE LADY ANNE. 117

again by a 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.

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
a little distance. After a while she was taken to the
carriage, and we came home together. I heard my
master say to a gentleman who stopped him to in-
quire, 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 auxious about her.
118 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 XXYV.
REUBEN SMITH.

MUST now say alittle 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 management 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 man-
ners. I believe everybody liked him; certainly the
horses did. The only wonder was that he should be
jn 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



‘
120 BLACK BEAUTY.

the Earl’s knowledge; but one night, when Reuben
had to drive a party home from a ball, he was so
drunk that he could not hold the veins, 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 3 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 jour-
ney. At the station the Colonel put some money
into Smith’s hand and bid him good-by, saying,
“Take care of your young mistress, Reuben, and
don’t let Black Auster be hacked about by any ran-
dom young prig that wants to ride him, — keep him
for the lady.”
2» REUBEN SMITH. 121

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, offhand way, and I
thought it very unlike him not to see about the
shoe, as he was generally 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 tem-
per, 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
122 _ BLACK BEAUTY. »

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 foree. 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 ave used to bear 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 foot-
REUBEN SMITH. 128

steps! 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
Lused to lie beside my mother in the green pleasant
meadow at Farmer Grey’s. ~




CHAPTER XXXVI.
HOW IT ENDED.

aT must have been nearly midnight when I
heard at a great distance the sound of a
x} horse’s feet. Sometimes the sound died
away, then it grew clearer again and nearer. The.
road to Harlshall led through woods 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; a little
nearer still, and I could tell she was in the dog-cart.
I neighed loudly, and was overjoyed to hear an an-
swering 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.


HOW IT ENDED. 125

“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 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 has n’t been all right with Reuben.
Just think of his 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
goand meet him. But what must wedo? 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 wellasI did
what was going on, and stood as stillasa 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
126 BLACK BEAUTY.

Robert came and looked at my foot again; then he
took his handkerchief 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 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 shonld 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 sup-
pose 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
toll-gate said he rode at a hard gallop through the
gate; and my shoe was picked up amongst the
HOW IT ENDED. 127

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 ?
O Reuben, Reuben!” So she went on till after he
was buried; and then, as she had no home or rela-
tions, she, with her six little children, was obliged
once more to leave the pleasant home by the tall oak-
trees, and go into that great gloomy Union House.




CHAPTER XXVIL

RUINED, AND GOING DOWNHILL.





soon as my knees were sufficiently healed,
I was turned into a small meadow for a
4) month or two; no other creature was there,
and though I paicyed 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 morn-
ing 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 warn-
ing; he was 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
RUINED, AND GOING DOWNHILL. 129

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 drunk-
ard, 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 to-
gether, and stand for hours under one of the shady
lime-trees with our heads close to each other; and
so we passed our 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
upto 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
130 BLACK BEAUTY.

consequence, and still be well treated. I know a
man in Bath, the master of some livery stables, who
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 recom-
mendation, or mine, would be sufficient warrant for
him.”

“ You had better write to him, York. I should be
more particular about the place than the money he
would fetch.”

After this they 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, call-
ing to me as long as she could hear the sound of my
feet.

Through the recommendation of 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.

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
RUINED, AND GOING DOWNHILE. -181

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 the slope, which was very fatigu-
ing. 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 as he could. He kept a good
many horses and carriages of different kinds for
hire. Sometimes his own men drove them; at
others, the horse and chaise were let to gentlemen
or ladies who drove themselves,




CHAPTER XXVIII

' & JOB HORSE AND HIS DRIVERS.

eta LC HERTO I had always been driven by peo-
4 ple who at least knew how to drive; but in

ake) 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 core of people who
wished to hire me; and as I was good-tempered and
gentle, 1 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 lib-
erty 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 ¢o 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



A JOB HORSE AND HIS DRIVERS. 183

legs, and who has a tender mouth and is easily
guided, it is not only tormenting, but it is stupid.

Then there are the loose-rein drivers, who let the
reins lie easily on our backs, and their own hand
rest lazily on their knees. Of course such gentle-
men have no control over a horse, if anything hap-
pens suddenly. Ifa horse shies, or starts, or stum-
bles, 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 downhill, 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 man-
ners. He said that spoiling a horse, and letting
him get into bad habits, was just as cruel as spoil-
ing a child, and both had to suffer for it afterwards.

Besides, these drivers are often careless alto-
gether, 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
184 BLACK BEAUTY.

"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 ¢o 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 fact 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 practiced
hand would have felt by the rein that 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 foot. The stone was sharp
on the inside and round on the outside, 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, I 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
with a lame horse! What ashame!”

He then chucked the reins and flipped about with
the whip, 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.”
A JOB HORSE AND HIS DRIVERS. 185

Just at this time a farmer came riding up ona
brown cob; he lifted his hat and pulled up.

“T beg your pardon, siz,” 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. If
you 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 great
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 astone! 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 fall down and break
his knees into the bargain !”

“Well, to be sure!” said my driver; “that is a
queer thing! I never knew that horses picked up
stones before.”

“Did n’t you ?” said the farmer rather contemp-
tuously ; “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
186 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 under-
stood 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 XXTX.
COCKNEYS.

aa there is the steam-engine style of driv-

; these drivers were mostly people from
ate who never had a horse of their own,
aad generally traveled 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, uphill or downhill, 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
uphill? 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,
uncomplaining and obedient, though often sorely
harassed and down-hearted.


138 BLACK BEAUTY.

This steam-engine style of driving wears us up
faster than any other kind. J 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
brake, however steep the downhill may be, and
thus bad accidents sometimes 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 halfway up the next hill, with one of the
wheels held by the brake, 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 there
were no right side or wrong side of the road.

I well remember one spring evening I and Rory
had been out forthe 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 considerate 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


THE STEAM-ENGINE STYLE.
COCKNEYS. 189

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 left 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 ery that I shall never for-
get. 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; and a 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 downhill with a heavily loaded
two-wheel cart behind him, on which no brake could
be placed, make me sad even now to think of.
140 BLACK BEAUTY.

After Rory was disabled, I often went in the car-
riage with a mare named Peggy, who stood in the
nest stall to mine. She was:a strong, well-made
animal, of a bright dun color, 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 can-
ter, 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 in a 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. Istand nearly as high as you, dut your
legs are a good three inches longer above your knee
than mine, and of course you can take a much
longer 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 noth-
COCKNEYS. 141

ing 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 coun-
try, and a 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 of me. I only wish
I was with him now; but he had to leave and go to
a 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 ina minute. Hewas thrown out and his arm
broken, and some of his ribs, J 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 must go so fast. I wish my legs
were longer!”

Poor Peggy! I was very sorry for her, and I
could not comfort her, for I knew how hard tt was
142 BLACK BEAUTY.

upon slow-paced horses to be put with fast ones ; all
-the whipping comes to their share, and they can’t
help tt.

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
agood 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 pine: I asked
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. J 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
COCKNEYS. 148

should never whip a horse for shying; he shies be-
cause he is frightened, and you only frighten him
more and make the habit worse.’ So I suppose all
men don’t do so. 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 did a sheep or a cow, but they are not com-
mon, 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.”

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, “TI 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
144 BLACK BEAUTY.

journey, is it not, old fellow?” he said, patting my
neck.

Then he took the reins, and they both got up. I
can remember 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 some one 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 pre-
vailed 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,





new master was an unmarried man. He
lived at Bath, and was much engaged in
i) 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 aman 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 igno-
rant. 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.

For a few days all went on well. I found that my
groom understood 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 vege-
tables for the market; and his wife bred and fat-
, ened poultry and rabbits for sale. After a while it
seemed to me that my oats came very short; I had
the beans, but bran was mixed with them instead of
146 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 af-
ternoon he rode out into the country to see a friend
of his, a gentleman 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, cast-
ing 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 over.

“TI can’t say who eats your corn, my dear fellow,
but Iam much mistaken if your horse gets it. Have
you ridden very fast ?”

“No, very gently.”
A THIEF. . 147

“Then just put your hand here,” said he, passing
his hand over my neck and shoulder; “he is as
warm and damp as a 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.”

“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 al-
ways 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, and a
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 looked very frightened and began to cry;
but there was no 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
148 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 afterwards that the boy was not
held to be guilty, but the man was sentenced to
prison for two months.




CHAPTER XXXT.

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 acow. He left my bit Gust,
my saddle damp, and my crupper stiff.

Alfred Smirk considered himself very handsome;
he spent a great deal of time about his hair, whis-
kers, 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 every one 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 conceited fellow I ever came
near. Of course it was a great thing not to be ill-


150 BLACK BEAUTY.

used, but then a horse wants more than that. I had
a loose box, and might have been very comfortable
if he 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
vapors that rose 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
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, I think the drain
does sometimes send pace a smell; there may be
something wrong, sir.’

“Then send for the prchlnyer and have it seen
to,” said his master.

“Yes, sir, I will.”

The bricklayer came, and pulled up a great many
bricks, but 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 on a quantity of
moist straw, my feet grew unhealthy and tender,
and the master used to say, -—
A HUMBUG. 151

“T don’t know what is the matter with this horse;
he goes very fumble-footed. J am sometimes afraid
ke 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 food 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, ie
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
152 BLACK BEAUTY.

cleaned 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 food,
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. Jl was therefore kept till my feet were quite
sound, aud was then sold again.




PART IIL.



CHAPTER XXXTI,

A HORSE FAIR.

10 doubt a horse fair is a very amusing place
to those who have nothing to lose; at any
E rate, there is plenty to see.

mone 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 cart horses 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 throwing 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 out at every step; and there were



154 BLACK BEAUTY.

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
fatr than a clever man could give an account of. 1
was put with two or three other strong, useful-look-
ing 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 was 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 them-






THE HORSE FAIR.


A HORSE FAIR. 155

selves so. He was rather a small man, but well
made, and quick in all his motions. I knew in a
moment, by the way he handled me, that he was
used to horses; he spoke gently, and his gray eye
had a kindly, cheery look in it. 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, and he walked away. I looked
after him, but he was gone, and a very hard-looking,
loud-voiced man came. I was dreadfully 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 gray-eyed man came back again. 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. Ill give twenty-four for him,”

“Say twenty-five, and you shall have him.”

“Twenty-four ten,” said my friend, in a very de-
cided tone, “and not another sixpence, — yes or
no?”

“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’sa -
bargain.”
156 BLACK BEAUTY.

Lhe 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 me a good feed of oats, and stood by whilst
I ate it, talking to himself and talking to me.
Half an hour after, we were on our way to London,
through pleasant lanes and country roads, until we
came into the great London thoroughfare, on which
we traveled 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 along cab stand, when my rider called out in a
cheery voice, “ Good-night, Governor !”

“ Hallo!” cried a voice. “Have you got a good
one ?”

“T think so,” replied my owner.

“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.”
A HORSE FAIR. 157

The next minute they were all standing round me
in a small stable yard.

“Ts he gentle, father ?”

“Yes, Dolly, as gentle as your own kitten; come
and pat him.”

At once the little hand was patting about all over
my shoulder without fear. How good it felt!

“ Let me get him a 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.

mY new master’s name was Jeremiah Barker,
VA) but as every one called him Jerry, I shall
: do the same. Polly, his wife, was just as
seed a match as a 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 i lead the regiment, I will tell more of that
hereafter.

The next morning, when I was well groomed,


A LONDON CAB HORSE. 159

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 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 J let them see as well as I could that I
wished to be friendly. Polly thought I was very
handsome, 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 me
water. In the 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 check-
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 cab stand where Jerry had said “Good-
night.” On one side of this wide street were high
houses with wonderful shop fronts, and on the other
160 BLACK BEAUTY.

was an old church and churchyard, surrounded by
iron palisades. Alongside these iron rails a num-
ber 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 giving them 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 some-
thing wrong one of these fine mornings, or my name
isn’t Jones.”

‘¢ 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.”

Then there came up a broad-faced man, dressed
in a great gray coat with great gray capes and great
white buttons, a gray hat, and a blue comforter
loosely tied round his neck; his hair was gray, 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
‘¢ Gray Grant,” or ‘‘ Governor Grant.” He had been








Ty A LONDON CAB TIORST.

J

BLACK BEAL


A LONDON CAB HORSE. 161

the longest on that stand of any of the men, and he
took it upon himself to settle matters and stop dis-
putes. He was generally a good-humored, 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 himse/f. He soon found
out that I was willing to work and do my best; and
he never laid the whip on me, unless 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-fashioned style, too much on
the slope; but he had two movable 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
162 BLACK: BEAUTY.

whichever way we pleased, which is a great com-
fort.

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
a time, and it does us a great deal more good than
swallowing down half a bucket full at a time, be-
cause 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 sometimes chills our stomachs.
But the best thing that we had here was our Sun-
days for rest ; we worked so hard in the week, that
I do not think we could have kept up to it, but
tor 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 XXXTY.

AN OLD WAR HORSE,

gi A PTAIN had been broken in and trained for
, 41 an army horse; his first owner was an of-
4] ficer of cavalry going out to the Crimean
War. He said he quite enjoyed the training with
all the other horses, trotting together, turning to-
gether, to the right hand or 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 gray, 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 fora long time saw the sky, or were able to


164 BLACK BEAUTY.

stretch our legs. The ship sometimes rolled about
in high winds, and we were 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 from 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 com-
fortable, in spite of snow, wet, and all things out of
order.

“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 some-
times we had to stand for hours, waiting for the
word of command; and when the word was given,
we used to spring forward as gayly and eagerly as if
there were no cannon balls, bayonets, or bullets. I
believe so long as we felt out rider firm in the saddle,
and his hand steady on the 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
AN OLD WAR HORSE. 165

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. I saw 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 fre-
quently 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 for-
get.”

Here old Captain paused fora 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 be-
gun, we heard the firing of the enemy’s guns.

“Then one of the officers rode up and gave the
word for the men to mount, and in a second, every
man was in his saddle, and every horse stood expect-
ing 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 champ-
ing of our bits, and the restive tossing of our heads
from time to time, it could not be said that we
stirred.
166 BLACK BEAUTY.

“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 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 well 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
erest 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 fly-
ing 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


THE LAST CHARGE.
AN OLD WAR HORSE. 167

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.

“JT wanted to keep my place by his side, and not
leave 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 IT 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 over-
powered, 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
168 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 3’
“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.

“T never saw my dear master again. I believe
he fell dead from the saddle. I never loved any
other inaster so well. I went into many other en-
gagements, 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.”

“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.”
AN OLD WAR HORSE. 169

“ 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 goall that way over
the sea on purpose to kill them.”




CHAPTER XXXYV.

JERRY BARKER.




NEVER knew a better man than my new
master. He was kind and good, and as
f] strong for the right as John Manly; and
80 50 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 to himself.
One he was very fond of, was this —
“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
in the 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 Cap-
tain 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,





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nite eA es
Mil ’ a4 *
Bapy MI VY,












Yu

pl

Mage ‘ |

4a

Ws sz VC Parker‘ Bod fish . }

DOLLY WITH JACK AND CAPTAIN,
JERRY BARKER. 171

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.”

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, want-
ing a cab horse to be driven 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 Vic-
toria in time for the one o’clock train? You shall
have a shilling extra.”

“Twill 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, gentle-
men! take my cab, my horse will get you there all
right;” and as he shut them in, with a wink to-
wards Jerry, said, “It’s against his conscience to
go beyond a jogtrot.” 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 only he knew why.
172 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 himup. 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-Hastern Rail-
way ?” 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.”

“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 musc go,” he said, earnestly, “please to open
the door, and let us lose no time.”

The next minute Jerry was ov 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
JERRY BARKER. 173

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 wag-
ons 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 aside street, or the policeman interferes ;
you have to be ready for any chance, — to dash for-
ward if there be an opening, and be qnick 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 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.
174 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 very 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,
“T think I had better get out and walk, I shall never
get there if this goes on.”

“Jl do all that can be done, sir,” said Jerry, “I
think we shall be in time; this block-up cannot last
much 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 had a 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, — per-
haps 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.”
JERRY BARKER. 175

“No, sir, 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 lug-
gage, — 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 dashing up at the last minute, and drew up on
one side till the crush was past. _

“<¢So glad!’ he said, ‘so glad!’ poor young fel-
low! I wonder what it was that made him so anx-
ious!”

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 good
deal of laughing and chaffing at him, for driving
hard to the train for an extra fare, as they said, all
against his principles; and they wanted to know
how much he had pocketed. .

“A good deal more than IJ generally get,” said he,
nodding slyly; “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 did n’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 ourselves,
that’s our business and not yours.”

“Well,” said Larry, “you ld never be a rich man.”

“Most likely not,” said Jerry, “but I don’t know
176 BLACK BEAUTY.

that I shall be the less happy for that. I have
heard the commandments read 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 J
was one of them.”

“Tf you ever do get rich,” said Governor Gray,
looking over his shoulder across the top of his cab,
“youll deserve it, Jerry, and you won’t find a curse
come with your wealth. As for you, Larry, you’ll
die poor, you spend too much in whipcord.”

“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’ 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 ? be-
cause you never give them any peace or encourage-
ment.”

“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 news-
paper, and the other men went to their cabs.




CHAPTER XXXVI.

THE SUNDAY CAB.




SZENIN & morning, as Jerry had just put me intu

EH} the shafts and was fastening the traces, a
ZA4| gentleman walked into the yard. “Your
servant, sir,” said Jerry.

“Good morning, Mr. Barker,” said the gentleman.
“T should be glad to make some arrangements with
you for taking Mrs. Briggs regularly 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’ license,t and therefore I could
not take a fare on 2 Sunday; it would not be legal.”

“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 license. 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’ license 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 Sun-

1 A few years since the annual charge for a cab license was
‘very much reduced, and the difference between the six and seven
days’ cabs was abolished.
178 BLACK BEAUTY.

day 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’
license, 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 your-
self, and we are very. good customers, you know.”

“Yes, sir, that is true, and I am grateful for all
favors, [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
I can’t. I read that God made man, and He made
horses 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 I think,
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 Jaid by more money in the Savings’ Bank
than ever I did before; and as for the wife and chil-
dren, 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 yourself, Mr. Barker, any further. I will
inquire somewhere else,” and he walked away.
THE SUNDAY CAB. 179

“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 ?”

“Why, my dear, Mr. Briggs wants me to take
Mrs. Briggs to church every Sunday morning. I
say, I have only a six-days’ license. He says, ‘Get
a seven-days’ license, and [711 make it worth your
while;’ and you know, Polly, they are very good
customers to us. Mrs. Briggs often goes out shop-
ping for hours, or making calls, and then she pays
down fair and honorable like a lady; there’s no
beating down, or making three hours into two hours
and a half, as some 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 ?”

“T say, Jerry,” says she, speaking very slowly,
“JT 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 license,
and the rent besides; but Harry will soon be earn-
ing 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 chil-
180 BLACK BEAUTY.

dren, and we never could go to a place of worship
. together, 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 My. Briggs, my
- dear,” said Jerry, “and what I mean to stick to; so
don’t go and fret yourself, Polly (for she had be-
gun to cry); I would not go back to the old times
if I earned twice as much, so that is settled, lit-
tle woman. Now cheer up, and 1’ll be off to the
stand.”

Three weeks had passed away after this conversa-
tion, 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,
°T will 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. :

“Tf workingmen don’t stick to their Sunday,”
said Truman, “they ’ll soon have none left; ¢ és
every man’s right and every beast’s right. By God’s
law we have a 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”
THE SUNDAY GAB. 181

“ All very well for you religious chaps to talk so,”
said Larry, “but Ill turn a shilling when I can.
I don’t believe in religion, for I don’t see that your
religious people are any better than the rest.”

“Tf they are not better,” put in Jerry, “it is be-
cause they are not religious. You might as well say
that our country’s laws are not good because some
people break them. If a man gives way to his
temper, and speaks evil of his neighbor, and does
not pay his debts, he is not religious; I don’t care
how much he goes to church. If some 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 mak-
ing 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 aSunday; 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
182 BLACK BEAUTY.

see, if you are always sitting on your box waiting
for a fare, they will say, ‘If we don’t take him,
some one 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; but people
don’t always like to go to the bottom of things;
it may not be convenient to doit; but if you Sun-
day 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 favorite 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 mackintoshes as they do ona
week-day. If a thing is right, it can be done, and
if it is wrong, it can be done without; and a good
man will find a way; and that is as true for us cab-
men as it is for the churchgoers.”




CHAPTER XXXVIIL

THE GOLDEN RULE.

25; WO or three weeks after this, as we came
#/ into the yard rather late in the evening,
i } 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 some one
else now.’”

“<¢Well,’ says he, ‘the real fact is, master was
put out because Mr. Barker refused to come on Sun-
days, 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.

“°T will all come right some day or night:’ you
were right, my dear; you generally are. Run in
and get the supper, and Ill have Jack’s harness
off and make him snug and happy in no time.”



184 BLACK BEAUTY.

After this, Mrs. Briggs wanted Jerry’s cab quite
as often as before, never, however, on a Sunday; but
there came a day 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.

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 Sun-
day; the horses are tired, and I am tired, too, —
that’s where it pinches.”

“Tt 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, I am sure it won’t break the Sabbath ,
THE GOLDEN RULE. 185

for if pulling a poor beast or donkey out of a pit
would not spoil it, I am quite sure taking poor
Dinah would not do it.”

“Why, Polly, you are 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 i
would make a wonderful difference to the horse.”

Away she went, and soon returned, saying that he
could have the trap and welcome.

“All right,” said he; “now put me up a bit of
bread and cheese, and Ill be back in the afternoon
as soon as J 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 farmhouse, up a
green lane, close by a meadow with some fine shady
186 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 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




DINAI’S FAMILY LIVED IN A SMALL FARMHOUSE UP A GREEN LANE.
THE GOLDEN RULE. 187

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.




CHAPTER XXXVIIIL

DOLLY AND A REAL GENTLEMAN.





E winter came in early, with a-great deal
of cold and wet. There was snow, or sleet,
4} or rain, almost every day for weeks, chang-
ing 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 traveling, 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
DOLLY AND A REAL GENTLEMAN. 189

added to this, the fear of falling is more exhausting
than anything else. If the roads are very bad in-
deed, our shoes are roughed, but that makes us feel
nervous at first.

When the weather was very bad, many of the
men would go and sit in the tavern close by, and
get some one 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 an
old man, who came to our rank with tins of hot cof-
fee 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. If she 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 honor to bring
“father’s first course,” as he used to call it. She
was a general favorite on the stand, and there was
not aman 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
190 BLACK BEAUTY.

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, “Wo,
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 say-
ing, 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 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, say-
ing in his quiet, pleasant way, “This horse has got
a good master, and he deserves it.” It was a very
rare thing for any one to notice the horse that had
been working for him. Ihave known ladies do it
now and then, and this gentleman, and one or two
others have given me a patand 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
DOLLY AND A REAL GENTLEMAN. 191

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 every-
thing else about him.

One day, he and another .gentleman took our cab;
they stopped at ashop 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, —

' “Tf you don’t stop that directly, I ll have you
arrested 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 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.


192 BLACK BEAUTY.

“What do you want with that?” growled the
carter, as he cracked his whip and was moving on,
A nod and a grim smile, was the only answer he got.

On returning to the cab, our friend was joined by
his companion, 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 for a moment, and throwing
his head a little back, “Do you know why this
world is as bad as itis?” ~

“No,” said the other.

“Then I’ tell you. Jt ts because people think
only about their own business, and won't trouble them-
selves to stand up for the oppressed, nor bring the.
wrong-doer to light. Inever 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.”

“TI wish there were more gentlemen like you, siz,”
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 doc-
trine is this, that if we see cruelty or wrong that we
have the power to stop, and do nothing, we make our:
selves 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 ie interest to treat me
Pala 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 cab-owners, who
let them out to their drivers for so much money
a day. 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 @
voice that sounded almost desperate, —



194 BLACK BEAUTY.

“If the police have any business with the matter,
it ought to be with the masters who charge us so
much, or with the fares that are fixed solow. Ifa
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 six-
teen hours a day, and I have n’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 mackin-
tosh, but with so many to feed, how can a man get
it? I had 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; T havew’t. We can’t
charge more. than sixpence a mile after the first,
within the four-mile radius. This very morning I
had to go a clear six miles and only took three shil-
lings. 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 forme. After that I had
SEEDY SAM. 195

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 peo-
ple 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 fare one and six-
pence; then I got a return fora 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 tella man that he must not over-
work 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 mas-
ters 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 overcharging; why,
they stand with their purses in their hands count-
ing 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 par-
ticular never to give us a sixpence over, or to cram
all the luggage inside. Of course some of ’em tip
196 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 sometimes 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 Gov-
ernor had stood with both his hands in his pockets ;
now he took his handkerchief out of 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 overme. It is hard lines for man, and it is
hard lines for beast, and who’s to mend it I don’t
know; but anyway you might tell the poor beast
that 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 wonderful what they do under-
stand.”

A few mornings after this talk a new man came
on the stand with Sam’s cab.

“Hallo!” 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.
SEEDY SAM. 197

“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 rav-
ing —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.

gq NE day, whilst our cab and many others
j} were waiting outside one of the parks
4 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 fore-legs 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
hopeless look in the dull eye that I could not help
_ noticing, and then, as J 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 beauti-
fully arched and glossy neck was now straight, and
lank, and fallen in; the clean straight legs and deli-
cate 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 suffer-
ing, 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



POOR GINGER. 199

off, soI 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 considered to be fit for work again, and was
sold toa 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 doc-
tored 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 keeps a number of cabs and horses, and
lets them out. You look well off, and I am 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 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 yourself if you
were ill-used.’’

“Ah!” she said, “I 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. Iwish 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
200 BLACK BEAUTY.

{ may drop down dead at my work, and not be sent
off to the knackers.”

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 nie, 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 was a
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 XL
THE BUTCHER.

a] SAW a great deal of trouble amongst the
horses in London, and much of it that-
might have been prevented by a little com-
mon 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——’s carriage, with my silver-mounted havr-
ness 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 gray 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 it be
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 as
good a little fellow, and had as happy a place when
he was young.


202 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 standing, a butch-
er’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. Ifyou 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 the police for such driv-
ing, and if you are, you need not look to me for bail,
for I have spoken to you till Iam 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 in a quarter of an hour. Another cook
THE BUTCHER. 203

has 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 com-
ing unexpectedly, and must have some chops sent
up directly; and the lady at No. 4, in the Crescent,
never orders her dinner till the meat comes in for
lunch, and it’s nothing but hurry, hurry, all the
time. If the gentry would think of what they want,
and order their meat the day before, there need nat
be this blow up!”

“T wish to goodness they would,” said the butcher ;
“t+ would save me a wonderful deal of harass, and I
could suit my customers much better if I knew be-
forehand— 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
favorite 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 pluck-
iest little thing I ever saw, and to see how fond
those two were of each other was a treat. The pony
204 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 used 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 of him, and was very
friendly, and Jerry said it was a comfort to think
how happy an old horse mighz be in a poor place.




CHAPTER XLII.

THE ELECTION.

S we came into the yard one afternoon, 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 making
Jack and Captain race about to the public-houses to
bring up half-drunken voters, why, I think ’t would
be an insult to the horses. No, I sha’n’t do it.”

“J 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 ?”

sViess22

“ Well, a man who gets rich by that trade may be
all very well in some ways, but he is blind as to
what workingmen want; I could not in my con-
science 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



206 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 me a little raga—
raga—”

“They called her a little ‘dlwe’ ragamuffin,
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 sis-
ter, and give anybody who insults her a good thrash-
ing —thatis 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
color, 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 color, 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 colors, they
only show party, and all the liberty you can get out
of them is, liberty to get drunk at other people’s ex-
pense, liberty to ride to the poll in a dirty old cab,
THE ELECTION. 207

liberty to abuse any one that does not wear your
color, and to shout yourself hoarse at what you only
half understand — that’s your liberty!”

“Oh, father, you are laughing.”

“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 neighbor do the same.”




CHAPTER XLITI.

A FRIEND IN NEED.

aT last came the election day; there was no
a\ lack of work for Jerry and me. First camte
s} 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 wait-
ing 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 pa-
pers, came running up out of breath, and before
Jerry could get down, he had opened the door,
popped himself in, and called out “Bow Street Po-
lice 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 refreshing then. Jerry was so thoughtful
and kind — what horse would not do his best for
such a master? Then he took out one of Polly’s



A FRIEND IN NEED. 209

meat pies, and standing near me, he began to eat it.
The streets were very full, and the cabs, with the
candidates’ colors on them, were dashing about
’ through the crowd as if life and limb were of no con-
sequence; we saw two people knocked down that
day, and one was a woman. The horses were hav-
ing a bad time of it; poor things! but the voters in-
side 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.”
210 BLACK BEAUTY.

“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 Ill 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.”

“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 and a sick child run a risk
like that.”

“ Heaven bless you!” said the woman, and burst
into tears.

“There, there, cheer up, my dear, Ill soon take
you there ; come, let me put you inside.”

As Jerry went to open the door, two men, with
colors 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, fol-
lowed by the other. Jerry looked as stern as a po-
liceman. “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 FRIEND IN NEED. 211

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 ;” and turning his back upon them,
he walked up to the young woman, who was stand-
ing near me. “They ’ll soon be gone,” he said,
laughing, “don’t trouble yourself, my dear.”

And they soon were gone, for when they under-
stood 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 by-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.”

He watched her go in at the door, and gently he
said to 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! is it you? I am very
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.”


212 BLACK BEAUTY.

“JT 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 J think we shall be, you shall tell
me all about Mary and the children.”

We got to the station in good time, and being un-
der 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 you in win-
ter? 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 constitution ;
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’s 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
A FRIEND IN NEED. 218

shillings 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.






CHAPTER XLIV.
OLD CAPTAIN AND HIS SUCCESSOR.

ZA PTAIN and I were great friends. He was
a noble old fellow, and he was very good

4} 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, bat I heard all about it.

He and Jerry had taken a party to the great rail-
way station over London Bridge, and were coming
back, somewhere between the Bridge and the Monu-
ment, when Jerry saw a brewer’s empty dray com-
ing along, drawn by two powerful horses. The
drayman was lashing his horses with his heavy
whip; the dray was light, and they started off at
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 mo-
ment they dashed up against our cab; both the
wheels were torn off and the cab 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; nobody could tell
how he escaped; he always said ’t was a miracle.
When poor Captain was got up, he was found to be
very much cut and knocked about. Jerry led’him


OLD CAPTAIN AND HIS SUCCESSOR. .215

home gently, and a sad sight it was to see the blood
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 tc
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 several 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, in-
deed! 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 own bones, and smash their own carts, and
lame their own 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 compen-
sation; 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 compensa-
tion! 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 tread-
216 BLACK BEAUTY.

ing 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 several 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 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; some-
times I had to say over and over to myself, ‘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
OLD CAPTAIN AND HIS SUCCESSOR. 21T

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 consti-
tution, 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 head, 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 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 not a bitof vice in him,” said the man;
“his mouth is very tender, and I think myself that
918 BLACK BEAUTY.

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 as a balloon. Our governor
(the coachman, I mean) had him harnessed in as
tight and strong as he could, with the martingale,
and the check-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 fa-
vorite, the cabman had gained a good horse with all
his strength in him.

Hotspur thought it a great come-down to he a
.

OLD CAPTAIN AND HIS SUCCESSOR. 219

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,




CHAPTER XLV.

JERRY’S NEW YEAR.

MHRISTMAS and the New Year are very
74, merry times for some people; but for cab-

“223 men and cabmen’s horses it is no holiday,
Hinigh it may be a harvest. There are so many
parties, balls, and places of amusement open, that
the work is hard and often late. Sometimes driver
and horse have to wait for hours in the rain or frost,
shivering with cold, whilst the merry people within
are dancing away to the music. I wonder ¢f the
beautiful ladies ever think of the weary cabman
waiting on his box, and his patient beast standing,
till his legs get stiff with coéd.

Thad now 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 a lantern
to meet him, looking anxious and troubled.

On the evening of the New Year, we had to take
two gentlemen 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.”



























































































h,



















































































































































































































































































































































































































































he

a

I WONDER IF THE BEAUTIFUL LADIES EVER THINK OF THE WEARY CABMAN WAITING ON HIS BOX,


JERRY'S NEW YEAR. 221

As the 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.

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 gentlemen came out; they got into the cab
without a word, and told Jerry where to drive, that
was nearly two miles. My legs were numb 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.
222 BLACK BEAUTY.

At last we got home; he could hardly speak, and
his cough 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 said in a hoarse aioe ; he could
hardly get his breath, but he gave me a rb 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 comfortable, and
then they locked the door.

It was late the next morning before any one came,
and then 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 danger-

- ously ill, and the doctor.said it was a bad case. So
two days passed, and there was great trouble in-
doors. We only saw Harry, and sometimes Dolly.
I think 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.

“JT would n’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.”
JERRY’S NEW YEAR. 223

“That ’s bad, very bad,” said Grant, shaking 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, be-
cause 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.

“Tf there’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. I’) look in early to-morrow.”

Early next morning he was there.

“Well?” said he.

“ Father is petien said. Harry. “Mother hopes
he will get over it.

“Thank God!” said the Governor, “and now you
must keep 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 ’11 be
an accident.”

“Tt 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.”
224 BLACK BEAUTY.

“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 “Il 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 Harry 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 you a good warming, my
boy, to get him clean and dry.”

“ All right, Governor,” said Harry, “I shall not
leave him till he is; you know I have been trained
by my father.”
JERRY'S NEW YEAR. 225

“T wish all the boys had been trained like you,”
said the Governor.

While Harry was sponging off the mud from Hot-
spur’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 beauti-
ful; Mrs. Fowler says we are all to 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 !”
226 BLACK BEAUTY.

“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.

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 af-
ter that New Year’s eve. Polly and the children
came to bid me good-by. “Poor old Jack! dear old
Jack! J 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 me too. Harry stroked me a
great deal, but said nothing, only he seemed very
sad, and so I was led away to my new place.


PART IV.



CHAPTER XLVI.

JAKES AND THE LADY.






Pe WAS sold to a corn dealer and baker, whom
5 pS D) Jerry knew, and with him he thought I
&39) should have good food and fair work. In
SS first he was quite right, and if my master had
always been on the premises, I do not think I should
have been overloaded, but there was a foreman who
was always hurrying and driving every one, and fre-
quently 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.
“°T was no use going twice when once would do, and
he chose to get business forward.”

Jakes, like the other carters, always had the check-
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
928 BLACK BEAUTY.

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; 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 voice, —

“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.”

“Tf doing his best won’t get this load up, he must
do something more than his best; that’s all I know,
ma’am,” said Jakes.

“ But is it not a heavy load?” she said.

“Yes, yes, too heavy,” he said; “but that’s not
my fault; the foreman came just as we were start-
ing, 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 the 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 hima fair
chance; he cannot use all his power with his head —
held back as it is with that check-rein ; if you would
JAKES AND THE LADY. 229

take it off, I am sure he would do better, —do try
it,” she said persuasively, “I should be very glad if
you would.”

“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, and in 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 speak kindly to him and lead him
on, I believe he will be able to do better.”

Jakes took therein. “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
to take breath.

The lady had walked along the footpath, and now
eame 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 that having his head
has helped him up the hill, and 1’ll remember it
another time, and thank you, ma’am ; but if he went
230 BLA CK BEAUTY.

without a check-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 fash-
ion than to follow a bad one? A great many gen-
tlemen do not use check-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 ani-
mals, 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 Tam 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 11 be bound for it,” said
Jakes to himself; “she spoke just as polite as if I
was a gentleman, and I ‘Il 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 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 overloading ; 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
JAKES AND THE LADY. 231

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 painful 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 per-
manent injury to my sight, and was sold toa large
cab owner.




CHAPTER XLVII.

HARD TIMES.

| SHALL never forget my new master; he
had black eyes and a hooked nose, his
J mouth was as full of teeth as a bull-dog’s,
al 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 a low set of
drivers ; he was hard on the men, and the men were
hard on the horses. In this place we had no Sun-
‘ day 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



HARD TIMES, 233

food. How I used to long for the nice bran mash
with nitre in it that Jerry used to give us on Satur-
day nights in hot weather, that used to cool us down
and 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 had a cruel whip
with something so sharp at theend 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, éo 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, and a 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, “ Lam 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.”
234 BLACK BEAUTY.

“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
eab.

“Can your horse 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.

“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 morning; but I did my best, as
I always had done, in spite of cruelty and injustice.

I got along fairly till we came to 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,
HARD TIMES. 235

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 I heard 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. Some one
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 gasp-
ing 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 a kind-voiced man was patting
me and encouraging me torise. 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 which were 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 ex-
amined me very closely, and said, —
236 BLACK BEAUTY.

“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 theyll go, and then sell’em for what they 7U
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 is a 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 acci-
dent 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 improvement, so I held up my
head, and hoped for the best.






CHAPTER XLVIII.

FARMER THOROUGHGOOD AND HIS GRANDSON
WILLIE,


pany with the old broken-down horses, —
: d some lame, some broken-winded, some old,
and some that I am sure it would have been merci-
ful 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 pov-
erty and hard times had hardened them all over; but
there were others 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 took a 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 shoul-


238 BLACK BEAUTY.

ders, 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 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,
grandpapa, 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 Lady-
bird ?”

“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
ioe 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.”
FARMER THOROUGHGOOD. . 289

“But do look at his mouth, grandpapa, and ask
the price; Iam 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 J 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 tend-
ing of him these ten days past, and a gratefuller,
pleasanter animal I never met with, and ’t would
be worth a gentleman’s while to give a five-pound
note for him, and let him have a chance. I ’Il be
bound he ’d be worth twenty pounds next spring.”

The old gentleman laughed, and the little boy
looked up eagerly.

_ “O 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.”
240 BLACK BEAUTY.

YP is a speculation,” said the old gentleman,
shaking his head, but at the same time slowly draw-
ing 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. Thad a
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 he,
“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 me a visit; sometimes picking me out
from amongst the other horses, and giving me a bit
of carrot, or sor-sthing good, or sometimes 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.
FARMER THOROUGHGOOD. QA1

“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.”

“O 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.

SANE day, during this summer, the groom
uf cleaned and dressed me with such extraor-

SSA dinary care that I thought some new change
must be at hand; he trimmed my fetlocks and legs,
passed the reise over my hoofs, and even parted
my forelock. I think the harness had an extra pol-
ish. Willie seemed half-anxious, half-merry, as he
got into the chaise with his grandfather.

“Tf the ladies take to him,” said the old gentle-
man, “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 came to a 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 re-
turned, followed by three ladies ; one tall, pale lady,
wrapped in a white shawl, leaned on a younger lady,
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



MY LAST HOME. 243

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. ’

“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 go along way with me, and
if my sister Lavinia sees no objection, we will accept
your offer of a trial, with thanks.”

Tt was then arranged that I should be sent for the
next day. s

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, —

“J did n’t think, sir, you would have recommended
my ladies a blemished horse like that.”

“¢ Handsome 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; if he is
not as safe as any horse you ever drove, send him’
back.”

I was led to my new home, placed in a comforta-
ble stable, fed, and left to myself. The next day,

“when my groom was cleaning my face, he said, —
944 BLACK BEAUTY.

“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 J am
alive, there is that little patch of white hair that
John used to call ‘Beauty’s threepenny bit.’ It
must be ‘Black Beauty!’ Why, Beauty! Beauty !
do you 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 whis-
kers and a man’s voice, but I was sure he knew
me, and that he was Joe Green, and I was very glad.
[ put my nose up to him, and tried to say that we
' were friends. JI never saw a man so pleased.

“ Give you a fair trial! I should think so indeed!
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
MY LAST HOME. 245

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, —

“T shall certainly write to Mrs. Gordon, and tell
her that her favorite 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.”

T have now lived in this happy place a whole yeavr.
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 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, and Iam at home; and often
before Iam quite awake, I fancy I am still in the
orchard at Birtwick, standing with my old friends
under the apple trees.
Humane Publications.

THE following Publications of the MassaCHUSETTS SOCIETY FOR
THE PREVENTION OF CRUELTY TO ANIMALS can be obtained atits |
offices or those of the AMERICAN HUMANE EDUCATION Socirty,
19 Milk St., Boston, at the following cost prices, free of postage: —
Address to Boston Public Schools, by Geo. T. Angell, . . . $2.00 per 102
Humane Leaflets, Nos. 1 to 8, by Geo. T. Angell.

E:ght of either No. or Nos. as wanted, 5 cents; twenty-four for ro cents; one hun
dred, 25 cents, post-paid.
Twelve Lessons on Kindness to Animals, by George T. Angell, at

2 cents for the whole twelve bound together,or . . . « $2.00 per 100
Care of Horses . amet Cuaecas so folie mien ‘ot/einiexnls4 5 ter
Cattle Transportation, by George T. Angell. . 2 2 2 « © © © rao
Protection of Animals, by George T. Angell . Dp LL Roles codnstatx:5O umes
Five Questions Answered, by George T. Angell . . . « » 2. « «go #
The Check-Rein, by George T. Angell. . . . . 2 2 e ew « «© oo
Band of Mercy Information, By George T. Angell . . . 5 . © 100 *
How to Kiil Animals Humanely, by Dr. D. D. Slade . . . . « roo
Service of Mercy, Selections from Scripture,etc. . . . 6 » . + 65
Bird Leaflet, by George T. Angell... e - ee we ew ee eg
Fifty-two Band of Mercy Songs and Hymns, book form, 2 cents for

the whole, or . . aie vetipen ie) oye i2 OOK use

Band of Mercy Register, 8 cents; badges, 8 cents.

Band of Mercy Cards of Membership, 2 cents each.

ConDENSED INFORMATION, an eight-page pamphlet by George T. Angell, includin;
all necessary for forming Societies for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, an
Bands of Mercy. This, as well as the Address of Mr. Angell to the National Con-
vention of the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union, at Nashville, Tenn., we
send without cost to every one asking.

The above can be had in smaller numbers at the same rates.

Our Dumb Animals.

Fall of Stories and Pictures, is published on the first Tuesday of each

month by the MASSACHUSETTS SOCIETY FOR THE PREVENTION OF

CRUELTY TO ANIMALS.

Terms: Single copies, per annum, so cents; for four copies and below ten, 45 cents;
for ten and below twenty-five copies, 40 cents; for twenty-five and below fifty, 35
cents; for fifty and below one hundred, 30 cents; and for one hundred and more

conies 25 cents each, in advance. Postage free to all parts of the United
tates,

Articles for the paper and subscriptions may be sent to the
Editor, Goddard Building, 19 Milk Street, corner Hawley, Boston.

Rates oF MEMBERSHIP OF AMERICAN Humane Epucation Society.

Active Life, 2 . + « + « + $100.00] Associate Annual . esa eae ER STOO,
Associate Life . . 6 +» « « §0.00| Children’s. . . . aeorsl peter 00!
Active Annual . . . . . «+ 43000] Branch. . 6 + 2 2 +. «© + 100

All members of the AMERICAN HuMANE EpucaTION SOCIETY
receive “Our Dumb Animals” and other publications free.

Orrices oF THE Society.
GODDARD BUILDING, 19 MILK STREET,
Corner Hawley Street, Boston.
CAPT. JOHN CODMAN ON “BLACK BEAUTY.”

Capt. JOHN CODMAN gives a column and a half in the “ New
York Commercial Advertiser” of May 13, to one of the best
descriptions of “ Black Beauty ” we have yet seen, 5

He says: “/sat down toread tt last night and did not move
Jrom my chair until it was finished.”

We wish we had space for the whole article, but can only give
its closing words : —

“As I sit by my window opposite Grace church (New York)
on a Sunday noon, I see a long row of carriages drawn up
before its sacred walls. Fashion, wealth, and beauty are within
the church calling themselves miserable sinners, as zudeed they
are. Outside are some of the evidences of their sinfulness.
There sit their coachmen, looking down from their boxes on the
lacerated stumps at one end of their horses while the other end of
them is jerked up into the atr. Not even while their masters are
at prayer can they be relieved from this torture. Every now and
then the coachmen touch them up with the whip and yank upon the
veins to keep up their ‘style’ and to make them champ their bits
and foam at the mouth.

“T crossed over there the other Sunday and interviewed some
of those horses. J every one of them there was a pained ex-
pression of the cye and often a nervous twitching of the upper lip.
Their faces betokened unspeakable agony. Alas, that it was un-
speakable! It would have been useless to have asked for mercy
from the coachmen. J doubt not some of them were kind-hearted
men, and like York, the groom of whom ‘ Black Beauty’ told me
last night, they did this sort of thing reluctantly, but in obedience
to orders.

“The poor beasts seemed to discern pity in my face, and every
feature of their own had a tongue that said, ‘ Hor God’s sake, —
yes, for God's sake, for we are his creatures, — go into that church
and tell the preacher to cut short his “lessons for the day,” and ta
send his congregation out here to take an object lesson from us!”
L wish that Dr. Huntington would take‘ Black Beauty’ into his
pulpit and let him preach to his people. The text? He may find
it in Hie book of the prophet Foel, i. 18, ‘How do the beasts
groan !?

“T have no space to chronicle all that ‘Black Beauty’ said te
me of his varied experiences in life of high and low degree.
After he had told all of his pathetic story, I turned into my bed
in the small hours of the night, and when I was asleep he stood
there still. Then the scene changed to that ‘large pleasant
Capt. Fohn Codman on Black Beauty” (continued),

meadow’ where the story began. Black Beauty and his mother
were there. So was Sir Oliver, little Merrylegs, and all the rest
of them. Even poor Ginger, over whose tragic death I had shed
a tear, was her old self again. / have always believed in the im-
mortality of animals. Agassiz believed in it, so did Cuvier, so did
Luther, and many other great men were not ashamed to confess it.
It was not strange that in my dream I saw these friends, whose
acquaintance I had so pleasantly made, changing their shape and
floating in the air, where they were joined by the ‘chariots of
Israel and the horsemen thereof.’ And last in the aerial caval-
cade came the Grace church martyrs, more pleased that their
tails had grown out and that they were enjoying a free rein than
that they, like Pegasus, had been given wings. They were drag-
ging their carriages over the clouds — du? the carriages were
empty. Yes, there must be a place for good horses and a place for
bad men.” — F. C. ;

(These are eloquent words of Captain Codman. In behalf of
all Boston horses we thank him for them. May they reach the
hearts of those for whom they were written, and help “ Black
Beauty” do for the horses of America what “ Uxcle Tom's
Cabin” did for the slave. Gro, T. ANGELL.]

The demand for this book has been so great that in the jirst
ninety days from its publication by our “ American Humane
Education Soctety,” we have been compelled to order seventy
thousand copies, and unless all signs fail, it is likely to have as
large a circulation as any book ever printed in America.

Thousands have been bought by humane persons #0 give away,
and other humane persons have sent me thousands of dollars to
aid in its gratuitous circulation.

Copies have been sent to leading newspapers in the United
States, and to this date about one thousand of these papers have
published articles in its praise, and calling upon the charitable to
aid the “American Humane Education Society” in sending it, so
far as possible, into every American home. i

We publish two editions, one costing at our offices twelve
cents a copy, to which must be added eight cents for postage ;
the other or Half Price Edition costing six cents at our offices,
and ten cents when sent by mail. Postage stamps are as good as
money. ;

Gro. T. ANGELL, President.

19 MiLk STREET, BosTon, July 1, 1890.


Founders of American Band of Mercy.
GEORGE T. ANGELL anp Rev. THOMAS TIMMINS.

Officers of Parent American Band of Mercy.

GEORGE T. ANGELL, President ;
JosepH L. STEVENS, Secretary.

Over seven thousand branches of the Parent American Band of
Mercy have been formed, with probably over five hundred
thousand members. They are in every State
aud every Territory except Alaska.

PLEDGE.

“T will try to be kind to all harmless living Creatures,
and try to protect them from cruel usage.”

Any Band of Mercy member who wishes can cross out the word harieless
from his or her pledge. M.S. P. C. A. on our badges mean “‘ WMercifud Soct-
ety Prevention of Cruelty to All.”

We send wzthout cost, to every person asking, a copy of “ Band
of Mercy ” information and other publications.

Also, without cost, to every person who writes that he or she
has formed a “ Band of Mercy” by obtaining the signatures of
thirty adults or children or both —either signed, or authorized
to be signed — to the pledge, also the name chosen for the “ Band,”
and the name and post-office address [town and state] of the Pres-
édent : :

_ 1. Our monthly paper, “Our DumB ANIMALS,” full of inter-
esting stories and pictures, for one year.
American Band of Mercy (concluded).

2. Copy of Band of Mercy Songs.

3. Twelve Lessons on Kindness to Animats, containing many
anecdotes.

4. Light Humane Leafiets, containing pictures and one hun-
dred selected stories and poems.

5. for the President, an imitation gold badge.

The head officers of Fuvenile Temperance Associations and
teachers and Sunday-school teachers should be Presidents of
Bands of Mercy.

Nothing is required to be a member, but to sign the pledge or
authorize it to be signed.

Any intelligent boy or girl fourteen years old can form a
Band with no cost, and receive what we offer, as before stated.

To those who wish badges, song and hymn books, cards of
membership, and a membership book for each band, the prices
are, for badges, gold or silver imitation, eight cents; ribbcz.,
four cents; song and hymn books, with fifty-two songs and
hymns, two cents; cards of membership, two cents; and mem-
bership book, eight cents. The “Twelve Lessons on Kindness
to Animals” cost only two cents for the whole, bound together
in one pamphlet. The Humane Leaflets cost twenty-five cents
a hundred, or eight for five cents.

A Good Order of Exercises for Band of Mercy Meetings.

1. Sing Band of Mercy song or Hymn, and repeat the Pledge together.
[See Melodies.] :

2. Remarks by President, and reading of Report of last Meeting by Secre-
tary.

a Readings, Recitations, ‘‘ Memory Gems,” and Anecdotes of good and
noble sayings, and deeds done to both human and dumb creatures, with vocal
and instrumental music.

4. Sing Band of Mercy song or hymn.

5. A brief address. Members may then tell what they have done to make
human and dumb creatures happier and better.

6. Enrollment of new members.

7. Sing Band of Mercy song or hymn.

Everybody, old or young, who wants to do a kind act, to make

the world happier or better, is invited to address, by letter or
postal,

GEORGE T. ANGELL,

President of the American Humane Education Society, the Massachusetts
Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and the Parent
American Band of Mercy, 19 M1LK STREET, Bosron.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY HUMANE
EDUCATION, MR. ANGELL?”

I answer.

(1.) That which tells the ill effects on human beings, of the ill
treatment of dumb animals — how it poisons meats and milk— how
even fish, killed mercifully as soon as they are caught, are better and
more wholesome food than those chat suffer before they die — how im-
portant insect cating birds are to agriculture — how important that
they and their nests be protected.

(2.) That which teaches how animals should be cared for —as to
tight check reins, blinders, docking, proper food, rest, protection from
the weather, exercise, kind words, and a merciful death.

3.) But infinitely more important, that which
tends to prevent all cruelty, both to our own and the lower
races.

(4.) Through over sixty years of my own life I can remember the
songs and stories of my boyhood. They have influenced my whole
life.

(5.) While all the other American Colonies were at war with the
Indians, the Colony founded by William Penn rested in perfect
peace.

(6.) In 1878 I called upon President Hayes, at Washington, to ask
him to put in his annual message to Congress something in regard to
the cruel transportation of animals. He said: “ When J was at school.
(once heard a sermon in regard to animals, which I have never for-
gotten ;” and he put into his message to Congress aluost verbatim
what I wrote.

(7.) In ‘1875 1 addressed the Faculty and students of Dartmouth
College, o the relation of animals that can speak to those that are
dumb.

In 1885, ten years later, at the close of an address to the Faculty and
students of a university in New Orleans, a gentleman rose in the audi-
ence and said: “ Some ten years ago I was a student in Dartmouth
College, when Mr. Angell gave an address there on this subject. I
had never thought of tt before. When I left college no one thought
was more strongly impressed on my mind than that of my duty to
the lower animals.” He was the superintendent of the public schools
of Minneapolis.

(8.)_ In 1870 and ’y1 I spent about six months, and about six hun-
dred dollars, founding, at Chicago, the ///inois Humane Society. Al-
though every daily paper of the city helped me, and printed colamns I
wrote, I should have failed to raise the necessary funds dut for one man
who had been taught, when a little boy in New Hampshire, kindness
to animals. In the great stock yards of Chicago alone millions of
dumb animals are now properly fed and watered, and largely pro-
rected from cruelty every year, because that little boy was taught kind-
ness to animals,

Fathers may be cruel, mothers may be cruel, brothers and sisters
may be cruel. It may be impossible in many instances to teach kind-
ness through them. But even in the homes of crime, hearts may be
_made more tender by kind acts and words for the dumb creatures ¢hat
always return love for love. Gro. T. ANGELL.
What is Overloading a Horse, and How
Proved?

By GEORGE T. ANGELL,

President of the American Humane Education Soctety, the Massachusetts
Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and the Parent
American Band of Mercy, 19 M1LK STREET, Boston.

The following, taken from “ Bishop on Statutory Crimes,” edi-
tion of 1873, page 689, is believed to be sound law, the world
over, on the above subject.

It was written by Mr. Angell, in reviewing a decision of a
Massachusetts Court in 1868, that there was no cruelty because
other horses of the same weight were able to draw the load in
question. Jt was the first and last decision of the kind ever ven-
dered in Massachusetts.

“Must an animal be worked until he breaks a blood vessel or
drops dead, before the law takes cognizance? Is the horse to
be strained, or worked to the extreme limit of his strength, be-
fore such straining or working becomes a cruelty (that is, before
the act of his master becomes ‘overloading ’)? Can an ex-
pert, or any number of experts, say what is the limit of strength
or endurance of any horse, simply by knowing his weight? It
seems to me that these questions can be easily answered.
Horses, like men, are of different ages, constitutions, tempera-
ments, formation, and degrees of strength. One horse, just like
one man, may be twice as fast, twice as tough, twice as strong,
as another of precisely the same weight ; and, inasmuch as horses,
like men, are liable to a great variety of sicknesses, and suffer,
just like men, from previous overworking and from heat, want
of proper rest, food, water, shelter, and care, it follows that the
same horse, like the same man, may be able to perform without
injury more Jabor in one day than another.

“Can a thousand experts prove that all men of a given weight
or size are equally competent, on every day of the year, to per.
form a given labor? Can their testimony establish how much
load a man of given weight should carry, and how far he should
carry it on a given day, without regard to whether the man is old
or young, sick or well, strong or weak, tough or tender, already
tired or rested, full-fed or starved, or the day hot or cold? And
does not precisely the same reason apply to the horse, — chat
what one horse can do one day has no force in showing what an-
other ought to do on another day, unless you show the weather,
age, strength, toughness, and bodily condition of the two to
be precisely similar? I say, then, that it is just as impossible
for any number of experts, knowing only the weight or size of a
horse and nothing of his age, health, strength, toughness, and
bodily condition, to establish what is, or is not, overloading
Overloading a Horse (concluded).

him, as it would be, knowing only the size or weight of a man,
and nothing of his age, health, strength, toughness, or bodily
condition, to establish what is or is not an overload for him.

“ How, then, are we to determine when a horse is overloaded ?
Just exactly and precisely as we determine when a man is over-
loaded. First, we are to igke his own evidence. Ifa man stops
and says, ‘I am overloaded, I am working too hard, I feel that
the task put upon me is too heavy,’ that is evidence. So when
the horse, ordinarily kind and willing to pull, comes with a
heavy load to a rise of land and, after one or two efforts, stops
and says, as plainly as words can speak it, ‘I am overloaded, I’
am working too hard, I feel that the task put upon me is too
heavy,’ that is evidence ; and there is nocourt or jury, or man
with the heart of a man, who will not recognize it as such. Be-
sides, the signs of overwork are just as visible in the horse zs
the man. No magistrate or juror would have any difficulty in
deciding in his own mind whether a case to which his attention
might be attracted in our public streets was or was not a case of
cruelty.

“Ts not, then, the testimony of competent, intelligent, and
credible bystanders, who see how the horse looks and acts, and
his bodily condition, health, and capability to perform the labor
required, the best evidence that can possibly be obtained?
Where can you get better? And when disinterested and intel-
jigent witnesses, who are present and see and hear all that is
said and done in a given case, voluntarily leave their ordinary
avocations and come into court to testify that they are fully sat-
isfied that the case is a clear case of cruelty, can such evidence
be overbalanced by that of any number of experts who are not
present, see nothing that occurs, know nothing of the age,
health, strength, or bodily condition of the horse at the time,
and who. base their calculations simply upon the avoirdupois
weight of the animal? Jf és perfectly evident, then, [ say, that the
highest and best evidence which any court or jury can ask or pos-
sibly obtain in a case of overloading, overworking, or overdriv-
ing, is the evidence of the horse himself, as interpreted by those
present when the cruelty is inflicted.

“ Cruelty begins very far short of taking the extreme strength
of the animal. God has given to men and animals an excess of
strength, to be husbanded carefully and used occasionally. But
to task that strength to its full limit unnecessarily is against na-
ture, breaks down the man or the animal before his or its time,
and is a cruelty against which men, having speech and reason,
may protect themselves, dut against which animals, having neither
speech. nor reason like men, must look to them for protection.”
Extract from Address of Mr. Angell to the
Annual Meeting of ‘‘ The American Social
Science Association,” in New York City,
May 21, 1874.

EASY TO INTEREST CHILDREN.

“It is very easy to enlist the sympathies of children in the
animal world. Take, for instance, the history and habits
of birds: show how wonderfully they are created ; how kind
to their young; how useful to agriculture; what power
they have in flight. The swallow that flies sixty miles an
hour, or the frigate bird which, in the words of Audubon,
‘flies with the velocity of a meteor,’ and, according to Mi-
chelet, can float at an elevation of ten thousand feet, and
cross the tropical Atlantic Ocean in a single night; or those
birds of beauty and of song, the oriole, the linnet, the lark,
and, sweetest of all, the nightingale, whose voice caused
one of old to exclaim, ‘ Lord, what music hast thou pro-
vided for saints in heaven, when thou hast afforded such
music for men on earth ?’

“ Or, take that wonderful beast of the desert, the camel,e
which, nourished by its own humps of fat, and carrying its
own reservoirs of water, pursues its toilsome way across
pathless deserts for the comfort and convenience of man.

“Ts it not easy to carry ub the minds and hearts of chit-
dren by thoughts like these from the creature to the infi-
nitely wise, good, and powerful Creator ?

“] believe there is a great defect in our systems of edu-
cation. I believe that in our public schools it is quite as
possible to develop the heart as the intellect, and that when
this is required and done, we shall not only have higher
protection for dumb creatures, and so increased length of
human life, but also human life better developed and better
worth living. I believe that the future student of Ameri-
can history will wonder, that in the public schools of a free
government whose very existence depended upon public
integrity and morals, so much attention should have been
paid to the cultivation of the intellect, and so little to the
cultivation of the heart.”
Extract from Address of Mr. Angell before
the ‘‘ International Congress of Educators,”’
at New Orleans, Louisiana, Feb. 26, 1885.

“ The wonderful growth of societies for the prevention
of cruelty to animals is a subject with which probably some
of you are familiar ; how they have stretched out their pro-
tecting arms, not only in this country, but in Europe, Asia,
Africa, and many islands of various oceans, numbering
among their members many of the noblest, best, and most
illustrious of the world’s citizens. In England the Royal
Society is under the patronage of the Queen, and its Pres-
ident a member of the Queen’s Privy Council.

“The first audience I had the pleasure of addressing
there some years ago was presided over by one of the
most learned men in England, the Lord Bishop of Glouces.
ter and Bristol, and the gentleman who moved the vote of
thanks was Field Marshal Sir John Burgoyne, very near
the head of the British army; the second was at, the house
of the Baroness Burdett-Coutts, — probably, next to the
Queen, the most highly respected woman in England.

“In France, Germany, and elsewhere, wherever I have
traveled in Europe, I have found the same. One German
society numbers among its members twenty-three generals
and over two hundred officers of the German army.

“In my own State of Massachusetts, I think that no
charitable society of the State has on its roll of officers and
members more distinguished and influential names than
the Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty
to Anincals. J think that no society in the State is better
known, or more popular.

“ But, in the limited period allotted me, one thing I do
have time to tell you; and that is, that we long ago found
that the great remedy for all these wrongs lies, zof 22 laws
and prosecuting officers, but in the public and private
schools » that a thousand cases of cruelty can be prevented
by kind words and humane education, for every one that
can be prevented by prosecution.”
Extract from Mr. Angell’s Address to the
Annual Meeting of **The National Associ-
ation of Superintendents of Public Schools,’’
at Washington, D.C., Feb. 14, 1884.

‘Nearly all the criminals of the future, the thieves,
burglars, incendiaries, and murderers, are now in our
public schools, and with them the greater criminals who
commit national crimes. They are in our public schools
now, and we are educating them. We can mould them
now if we will. To illustrate the power of education! We
know that we can make the same boy Protestant, Roman
Catholic, or Mohammedan. It is simply a question of
education. We may put into his little hands, as first
toys, whips, guns, and swords, or may teach him, as the
Quakers do, that war and cruelty are crimes. We may
teach him to shoot the little song bird in springtime, with
its nest full of young. or we may teach him to feed the
bird and spare its nest. We may go into the schools now
with book, picture, song, and story, and make. neglected
boys merciful, or we may let them drift, until, as men,
they become sufficiently lawless and cruel to throw our
railway trains off the track, place dynamite under our
dwelling houses or public buildings, assassinate our Pres-
ident, burn half our city, or involve the nation in civil war.

“Ts tt not largely.if not wholly, a question of education ?

“Tam sometimes asked, ‘Why do you spend so much
of your time and money in talking about Azzdness to ani-
mats, when there is so much cruelty to men?’ And I
answer, ‘/ am working at the roots” Every humane pub-
lication, every lecture, every step, in doing or teaching
kindness to them, is a step to prevent crime,—a step in
promoting the growth of those qualities of heart which
will elevate human souls, even in the dens of sin and
shame, and prepare the way for the coming of peace on
earth and good will to men.
Mr, Angell’s Address (concluded).

“There are hundreds of thousands of parents among
the depraved and criminal classes of this country whom
no child caz be taught to love, or ought to be. ‘There
are hundreds of thousands of homes where the name of
the Almighty is never heard, except in words of blas-
phemy. But there is not a child in one of those homes
that may not be taught in our public schools Zo feed the
birds and pat the horses, and enjoy making happy all
harmless creatures it meets on the street, and so be doing
acts of kindness forty times a day, which will make it not
only happier, but better, and more merciful t in all the rela-
tions of life.

“ Standing before you as the advocate of the lower races,
I declare what I believe cannot be gainsaid —that just so
soon and so far as we pour into all our schools the songs,
poems, and literature of mercy towards these lower crea-
tures, just so soon and so far shall we reach the roots not
only of cruelty but of crime.” :

Mr. Richards introduced the following, which was
adopted :—

“ Resolved, That we heartily approve of the * American
Bands of Mercy, and welcome their introduction tnio the
public schools of our country to aid in the moral education

of our people.”

"In the winter of 1885-6, dy unanimous vote of the Boston

School Committee, Mr. Angell addressed the sixty-one
large Normal, Latin, High, and Grammar Schools of Bos-
ton one hour each. In March, 1887, by unanimous vote
of the School Committee, he caused about sixty thousand
copies of the Massachusetts Society’s humane publica-
tions to be distributed to the pupils of the Boston Public
Schools.
CONSTITUTION

OF THE

American Humane Education Society.



ARTICLE 1. The name of this Society is The American Hu-
mane Education Society. ;

ART, 2. Its object is to carry Humane Education, in all pos-
sible ways, into American schools and homes.

ART. 3. There shall be nothing in its management or publica-
tions to interfere with its receiving the full support of good men
and women of all parties and churches whatsoever.

ArT. 4. The officers. of this Society shall be a President, who
shall be also actually, or ex-officto, a member .f the Board of Di-
rectors, Vice-Presidents, a Secretary, Treasurer, Directors, and
such other officers as the directsrs may from time to time elect
or appoint.

ArT. 5. The first Board of Directors shall hold office until
their successors are elected. All directors subsequent to the
first Board shall be elected only by a two-thirds vote of the whole
Board of Directors.

ArT, 6. The directors shall elect or appoint from their own
number, or otherwise, officers of the Society heretofore named,
and such others as they may deem proper, and they may at any
' time remove the same, and elect or appoint others. They may
fill vacancies in their own number, and by vote of two thirds of
the Board increase it; they may enact by-laws for themselves
and the Society; fix terms and conditions of membership; make
and establish rules and orders for the government of the Soci-
ety and its officers, and fur the transaction of its business; re-
mit the annual or other dues of any member of the Society; and,
by a two-thirds vote; remove from their own body, or the Soci-
ety, any member thereof, when, in their judgment, the best in-
terests of the Society shall require the same ; and generally shall,
during their term of office, have the full and complete manage-
American Humane Education Society (concluded),

ment, control, and disposal of the affairs, property, and funds of
the Society, with full power to do all matters and things which
the Society could do; det and except that they shall reccive no
pay whatever, and they shall not incur, on account of the Society,
any debt beyond the funds which shall be actually in the treasury
during their term of office. Nor shall any funds of the Society
be loaned directly or indirectly to any director.

Arr, 7. Any person may become an Active Life Member of
this Society by paying to the Society one hundred dollars; an
Associate Life Member, by paying fifty dollars ; an Active Mem-
ber, by paying ten dollars per annum ; an Associate Member, by
paying five dollars per annum; an Honorary Member, by being
elected as such; anda Branch Member, by paying to the Soci-
ety any sum not less than one dollar per annum. Children un-
der eighteen years of age may become Associate Members on
payment of one dollar per annum. Children may be made
Branch Members on such tems as the directors may decide.

Art. 8 At all meetings of the directors the written assent, or
dissent, of any absent director shall be counted as his or her
vote as though present.

ART. g. No alteration of this Constitution shall be made, ex-
cept upon a motion in writing, made at a meeting of the directors,
entered on the minutes with the name of the member making
it, and written notice of the same sent to each director, and adopted
at a subsequent meeting by a vote of two thirds of the whole Board
of Directors. ;



What is the Object of the Bands of Mercy?

I answer: To teach and lead every child and older person to
seize every opportunity 20 say a kind word, or do a kind act that
will make some other human being or some dumb creature hap-

pier.
GEORGE T. ANGELL.
OUR DUMB ANIMALS.

Monthly Organ of the American Humane Education
Society and The Massachusetts Society for the
Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.

‘What the Press say about it. A Few from Hundreds of Recent
Notices.

1, All who sympathize with kindness will be delighted with a copy of Our
Dumb Animals. No more entertaining or more useful reading can be put
into the hands of children. ‘Che pictures are as good as the text.— New
York Tribune.

z. Always a welcome guest to our editorial table. — Bangor Daily Coim-
mercial.

. Attractive sheet — should be in every household. — Augusta Age.

. Illustrated and attractive monthly. — Springfield Republican.

. Admirable publication. — Burlington Hawkeye.

. A beautiful paper. — Southern Cultivator (Atlanta, Ga.).

. Its attractive pictures catch the eye, and its short pathetic stories touch
the hearts of readers, young and old. —Zon’s Herald { Boston).

8.. Excellent monthly, always readable, and its anecdotes and stories always
point a wholesome moral. — Boston Times.

gy. Itisa pleasure to cal! attention to Our Dumb Animals. It is suitable
a ae and adults, the home, and the Sunday-school. — 7he Beacon

Boston).

ro. Full of entertaining reading. — Boston Pilot.

1x. No journal more cleverly conducted ever pleaded a worthy cause. —
Lyceum (Washington, D. C.). i

12. Worth five times its price, and should be found in every home. — West
Virginia Argus.

13. Its every page is animated by a loving spirit, which makes it invaluable
in a family where there are children. — Dazly Herald (Norristown, Pa.).

14. It should be on every library table. — Germantown (Pa.) Gazette.

15. Publication in every way worthy of encouragement. — Baltimore News.

16. We advise every parent and teacher to send for it. We do not know of
any other publication so full of things to keep the hearts of the young tender
towards all that breathe. — School Education (St. Paul and Minneapolis).

17. One of the most interesting exchanges that come to our table. — Cazho-
lic Knight (Cleveland, Ohio). ;

18. Of all the publications which reach this office, Our Dumb Animals, of
Boston, is the one which inspires the purest and tenderest thoughts. — Zhe
Putnam (West Virginia) Democrat.

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for prices see last cover.

TEACHERS AND CANVASSERS.

Teachers can have “Our Dumb Animals” one year for
twenty-five cents.

Canvassers can have sample copies free, and retain one half
of every fifty cent subscription. Address,

GEORGE T. ANGELL,

President of the American Humane Education Society, the Massachusetts
Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and the Parent
American Band of Mercy, 1g M1Lk STREET, Boston.
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