Article description: (description ) This attribute controls the content of the description and og:description elements. | BLACK BEAUTY
The Autobiography of a Horse
by Anna Sewell [English Quaker -- 1820-1878.]
[Note: 'Black Beauty' was originally published in 1877. This etext was
transcribed from an American edition of 1911. Some small corrections
were made, after being confirmed against other sources.]
To my dear and honored Mother,
whose life, no less than her pen,
has been devoted to the welfare of others,
this little book is affectionately dedicated.
Contents
Part I
Chapter
01 My Early Home
02 The Hunt
03 My Breaking In
04 Birtwick Park
05 A Fair Start
06 Liberty
07 Ginger
08 Ginger's Story Continued
09 Merrylegs
10 A Talk in the Orchard
11 Plain Speaking
12 A Stormy Day
13 The Devil's Trade Mark
14 James Howard
15 The Old Hostler
16 The Fire
17 John Manly's Talk
18 Going for the Doctor
19 Only Ignorance
20 Joe Green
21 The Parting
Part II
22 Earlshall
23 A Strike for Liberty
24 The Lady Anne, or a Runaway Horse
25 Reuben Smith
26 How it Ended
27 Ruined and Going Downhill
28 A Job Horse and His Drivers
29 Cockneys
30 A Thief
31 A Humbug
Part III
32 A Horse Fair
33 A London Cab Horse
34 An Old War Horse
35 Jerry Barker
36 The Sunday Cab
37 The Golden Rule
38 Dolly and a Real Gentleman
39 Seedy Sam
40 Poor Ginger
41 The Butcher
42 The Election
43 A Friend in Need
44 Old Captain and His Successor
45 Jerry's New Year
Part IV
46 Jakes and the Lady
47 Hard Times
48 Farmer Thoroughgood and His Grandson Willie
49 My Last Home
Black Beauty
Part I
01 My Early Home
The 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 plowed field, and on the other we looked over a gate
at our master's house, which stood by the roadside; at the top of the
meadow was a grove of fir trees, and at the bottom a running brook
overhung by a steep bank.
While 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.
There were six young colts in the meadow besides me; they were older
than I was; some were nearly as large as grown-up horses. I used to run
with them, and had great fun; we used to gallop all together round and
round the field as hard as we 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:
"I wish you to pay attention to what I am going to say to you. The colts
who live here are very good colts, but they are cart-horse colts, and
of course they have not learned manners. You have been well-bred
and well-born; your 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 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 favorites. My mother always took him to the town on a market
day in a light gig.
There was a plowboy, 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.
02 The Hunt
Before 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 cry of dogs. The
oldest of the colts raised his head, pricked his ears, and said, "There
are the hounds!" and immediately cantered off, followed by the rest of
us to the upper part of the field, where we could look over the hedge
and see several fields beyond. My mother and an old riding horse of our
master's were also standing near, and seemed to know all about it.
"They have found a hare," said my mother, "and if they come this way we
shall see the hunt."
And soon the dogs were all tearing down the field of young wheat next
to ours. I never heard such a noise as they made. They did not bark, nor
howl, nor whine, but kept on a "yo! yo, o, o! yo! yo, o, o!" at the top
of their voices. After them came a number of men on horseback, some of
them in green coats, all galloping as fast as they could. The old horse
snorted and looked eagerly after them, and we young colts 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 altogether 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, leaped 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
gentlemen seemed well pleased.
As for me, I was so astonished that I did not at first see what was
going on by the brook; but when I did look there was 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."
While 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 watching
what was going on, was the first to raise him. His head fell back and
his arms hung down, and every one looked very serious. There was no
noise now; even the dogs were quiet, and seemed to know that something
was wrong. They carried him to our master's house. I heard afterward
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 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
afterward.
Not many days after we heard the church-bell tolling for a long time,
and looking over the gate we saw a long, strange black coach that was
covered with black cloth and was drawn by black horses; after that came
another and another and another, and all were black, while the bell kept
tolling, tolling. They were carrying young Gordon to the churchyard to
bury him. He would never ride again. What they did with Rob Roy I never
knew; but 'twas all for one little hare.
03 My Breaking In
I 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 I was four years old Squire Gordon came to look at me. He examined
my eyes, my mouth, and my legs; he felt them all down; and then I had
to walk and trot and gallop before him. He seemed to like me, and said,
"When he has been well broken in he will do very well." My master said
he would break me in himself, as he should not like me to be frightened
or hurt, and he lost no time about it, for the next day he began.
Every one may not know what breaking in is, therefore I will describe
it. It means to teach a horse to wear a saddle and bridle, and to carry
on his back a man, woman or child; to go just the way they wish, and to
go quietly. Besides this he has to learn to wear a collar, a crupper,
and a breeching, and to stand still while 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 weariness. 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 fields and lanes quietly, but now I was to have a bit
and bridle; my master gave me some oats as usual, and after a good deal
of coaxing he got the bit into my mouth, and the bridle fixed, but it
was a nasty thing! Those who have never had a bit in their mouths cannot
think how bad it feels; a great piece of cold hard steel as thick as
a man's finger to be pushed into one's mouth, between one's teeth, and
over one's tongue, with the ends coming out at the corner of your mouth,
and held fast there by straps over your head, under your throat, round
your nose, and under your chin; so that no way in the world can you get
rid of the nasty hard thing; it is very bad! yes, very bad! at least I
thought so; but I knew my mother always wore one when she went out, and
all horses did when they were grown up; and so, what with the nice oats,
and what with my master's pats, kind words, and gentle ways, I got to
wear my bit and bridle.
Next came the saddle, but that was not half so bad; my master put it
on my back very gently, while old Daniel held my head; he then made the
girths fast under my body, patting and talking to me all the time; then
I had a few oats, then a little leading about; and this he did every
day till I began to look for the oats and the saddle. At length, one
morning, my master got on my back and rode me round the meadow on the
soft grass. It certainly did feel queer; but I must say I felt rather
proud to carry my master, and as he continued to ride me a little every
day I soon became accustomed to it.
The next unpleasant business was putting on the iron shoes; that too was
very hard at first. My master went with me to the smith's forge, to see
that I was not hurt or got any fright. The blacksmith took my feet in
his hand, one after the other, and cut away some of the hoof. It did not
pain me, so I stood still on three legs till he had done them all. Then
he took a piece of iron the shape of my foot, and clapped it on, and
drove some nails through the shoe quite into my hoof, so that the shoe
was firmly on. My feet felt very stiff and heavy, but in time I got used
to it.
And now having got so far, my master went on to break me to harness;
there were more new things 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 was the
crupper. I hated the crupper; to have my long tail doubled up and poked
through that strap was almost as bad as the bit. I never felt more like
kicking, but of course I could not kick such a good master, and so
in time I got used to everything, and could do my work as well as my
mother.
I must not forget to mention one part of my training, which I have
always considered a very great advantage. My master sent me for a
fortnight to a 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 among them.
I shall never forget the first train that ran by. I was feeding quietly
near the pales which separated the meadow from the railway, when I heard
a strange sound at a distance, and before I knew whence it came--with
a rush and a clatter, and a puffing out of smoke--a long black train of
something flew by, and was gone almost before I could draw my breath. I
turned and galloped to the further side of the meadow as fast as I could
go, and there I stood snorting with astonishment and fear. 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 into the field, or did me any harm, I
began to disregard it, and very soon I cared as little about the passing
of a train as the cows and sheep did.
Since then I have seen many horses much alarmed and restive at the sight
or sound of a steam engine; but thanks to my good master's care, I am as
fearless at railway stations as in my own stable.
Now if any one wants to break 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 thoughtful 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.
Besides, there are a great many foolish men, vain, ignorant, and
careless, who never trouble themselves to think; these spoil more horses
than all, just for want of sense; they don't mean it, but they do it for
all that. I hope you will fall into good hands; but a horse never knows
who may buy him, or who may drive him; it is all a chance for us; but
still I say, do your best wherever it is, and keep up your good name."
04 Birtwick Park
At this time I used to stand in the stable and my coat was brushed every
day till it shone like a rook's wing. It was early in May, when there
came a man from Squire Gordon's, who took me away to the hall. My master
said, "Good-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 Birtwick. It was entered by
a large iron gate, at which stood the first lodge, and then you trotted
along on a smooth road between clumps of large old trees; then another
lodge and another gate, which brought you to the house and the gardens.
Beyond this lay the home paddock, the old orchard, and the stables.
There was accommodation for many horses and carriages; but I need only
describe the stable into which I was taken; this was very roomy, with
four good stalls; a large swinging window opened into the yard, which
made it pleasant and airy.
The first stall was a large square one, shut in behind with a wooden
gate; the others were common stalls, good stalls, but not nearly so
large; it 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 he liked. It is a great thing to have a
loose box.
Into this fine box the groom put me; it was clean, sweet, and airy. I
never was in a better box than that, and the sides were not so high but
that I could see all that went on through the iron rails that were at
the top.
He gave me some very nice oats, he patted me, spoke kindly, and then
went away.
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, "I hope you are good-tempered; I do not like any
one next door who bites."
Just then a horse's head looked over from the stall beyond; the ears
were laid back, and the eye looked rather ill-tempered. This was a tall
chestnut mare, with a long handsome neck. She looked across to me and
said:
"So it is you who have turned me out of my box; it is a very strange
thing for a colt like you to come and turn a lady out of her own home."
"I beg your pardon," I said, "I have turned no one out; the man who
brought me put me here, and I had nothing to do with it; and as to my
being a colt, 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 is this," said Merrylegs. "Ginger has a bad habit of biting
and snapping; that is why they call her Ginger, and when she was in the
loose box she used to snap very much. One day she bit James in the arm
and made it bleed, and so Miss Flora and Miss Jessie, who are very fond
of me, were afraid to come into the stable. They used to bring me nice
things to eat, an apple or a carrot, or a piece of bread, but after
Ginger stood in that box they dared not come, and I missed them very
much. I hope they will now come again, if you do not bite or snap."
I told him I never bit anything but grass, hay, and corn, and could not
think what pleasure Ginger found it.
"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
master never uses a whip if a horse acts right; so I think she might be
good-tempered here. You see," he said, with a wise look, "I am twelve
years old; I know a great deal, and I can tell you there is not a better
place for a horse all round the country than this. John is the best
groom that ever was; he has been here fourteen years; and you never saw
such a kind boy as James is; so that it is all Ginger's own fault that
she did not stay in that box."
05 A Fair Start
The name of the coachman was John Manly; he had a wife and one little
child, and they lived in the coachman's cottage, very near the stables.
The next morning he took me into the yard and gave me a good grooming,
and just as I was going into my box, with my coat soft and bright, the
squire came in to look at me, and seemed pleased. "John," he said,
"I meant to have tried the new horse this morning, but I have other
business. You may as well take him around after breakfast; go by the
common and the Highwood, and back by the watermill and the river; that
will show his paces."
"I 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."
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."
"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, sensible English name for me, that meant something;
not like Marengo, or Pegasus, or Abdallah. They both laughed, and James
said, "If it was not for bringing back the past, I should have named him
Rob Roy, for I never saw two horses more alike."
"That's no wonder," said John; "didn't you know that Farmer Grey's old
Duchess was the mother of them both?"
I had never heard that before; and so poor Rob Roy who was killed
at that hunt was my brother! I did not wonder that my mother was so
troubled. It seems that horses have no relations; at least they never
know each other after they are sold.
John seemed very proud of me; he used to make my mane and tail almost as
smooth as a lady's hair, and he would talk to me a great deal; of course
I did not understand all he said, but I learned more and more to know
what he meant, and what he wanted me to do. I grew very fond of him, he
was so gentle and kind; he seemed to know just how a horse feels, and
when he cleaned me he knew the tender places and the ticklish places;
when he brushed my head he went as 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 harness. When we came to a hill, instead of slackening
her pace, she would throw her weight right into the collar, and pull
away straight up. We had both the same sort of courage at our work, and
John had oftener to hold us in than to urge us forward; he never had to
use the whip with either of us; then our paces were much the same, and
I found it very easy to keep step with her when trotting, which made it
pleasant, and master always liked it when we kept step well, and so did
John. After we had been out two or three times together we grew quite
friendly and sociable, which made me feel very much at home.
As for Merrylegs, he and I soon became great friends; he was such a
cheerful, plucky, good-tempered little fellow that he was a 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 another 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.
06 Liberty
I was quite happy in my new place, and if there was one thing that I
missed it must not be thought I was discontented; all who had to do with
me were good and I had a light airy stable and the best of food. What
more could I want? Why, liberty! For three years and a half of my life
I had had all the liberty I could wish for; but now, week after week,
month after month, and no doubt year after year, I must stand up in a
stable night and day except when I am wanted, and then I must be just
as steady and quiet as any old horse who has worked twenty years. Straps
here and straps there, a bit in my mouth, and blinkers over my eyes.
Now, I am not complaining, for I know it must be so. I only mean to say
that for a young horse full of strength and spirits, who has been used
to some large field or plain where he can fling up his head and toss up
his tail and gallop away at full speed, then round and back again with
a snort to his companions--I say it is hard never to have a bit more
liberty to do as you like. Sometimes, when I have had less exercise than
usual, I have felt so full of life and spring that when John has taken
me out to exercise I really could not keep quiet; do what I would, it
seemed as if I must jump, or dance, or prance, and many a good shake I
know I must have given him, especially at the first; but he was always
good and patient.
"Steady, steady, my boy," he would say; "wait a bit, and we will 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 so
sweet, and the freedom to do as we liked was so pleasant--to gallop, to
lie down, and roll over on our backs, or to nibble the sweet grass.
Then it was a very good time for talking, as we stood together under the
shade of the large chestnut tree.
07 Ginger
One day when Ginger and I were standing alone in the shade, we had a
great deal of talk; she wanted to know all about my bringing up and
breaking in, and I told her.
"Well," said she, "if I had had your bringing up I might have 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 I
was weaned, and put with a lot of other young colts; none of them cared
for me, and I cared for none of them. There was no kind master like
yours to look after me, and talk to me, and bring me nice things to eat.
The man that had the care of us never gave me a kind word in my life.
I do 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 face, and I should think
it would be a scar for life. We did not care for them, but of course
it made us more wild, and we settled it in our minds that boys were our
enemies. We had very good fun in the free meadows, galloping up and down
and chasing each other round and round the field; then standing still
under the shade of the trees. But when it came to breaking in, that was
a bad time for me; several men came to catch me, and when at last they
closed me in at one corner of the field, one caught me by the forelock,
another caught me by the nose and held it so tight I could hardly draw
my breath; then another took my under jaw in his hard hand and wrenched
my mouth open, and so by force they got on the halter and the bar into
my mouth; then one dragged me along by the halter, another flogging
behind, and this was the first experience I had of men's kindness; it
was all force. They did not give me a chance to know what they wanted.
I was high bred and had a great deal of spirit, and was very wild, no
doubt, and gave them, I dare say, plenty of trouble, but then it was
dreadful to be shut up in a stall day after day instead of having my
liberty, and I fretted and pined and wanted to get loose. You know
yourself it's bad enough when you have a kind master and plenty of
coaxing, but there was nothing of that sort for me.
"There was one--the old master, Mr. Ryder--who, I think, could soon have
brought me round, and could have done 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 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 horseflesh. 'Horseflesh'! 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:
"If 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 for me. One day he had worked me hard
in every way he could, and when I lay down I was tired, and miserable,
and angry; it all seemed so hard. The next morning he came for me early,
and ran me round again for a long time. I had scarcely had an hour's
rest, when he came again for me with a saddle and bridle and a new kind
of bit. I could never quite tell how it came about; he had only just
mounted me on the training 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 suddenly, which angered him still more, and he
began to flog me. I felt my whole spirit set against him, and I began
to kick, and plunge, and rear as I had never done before, and we had a
regular fight; for a long time he stuck to the saddle and punished me
cruelly with his whip and spurs, but my blood was thoroughly up, and I
cared for nothing he could do if only I could get him off. At last after
a terrible struggle I threw him off backward. I heard him fall heavily
on the turf, and without looking behind me, I galloped off to the other
end of the field; there I turned round and saw my persecutor slowly
rising from the ground and going into the stable. I stood under an oak
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 among a thousand. It
was not high, nor yet low, but full, and clear, and kind, and when
he gave orders it was so steady and decided that 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, 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 while 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 comfortable. The skin was so broken at the
corners of my mouth that I could not eat the hay, the stalks hurt me. He
looked closely at it, shook his head, and told the man to fetch a good
bran mash and put some meal into it. How good that mash was! and so soft
and healing to my mouth. He stood by all the time I was eating, stroking
me and talking to the man. 'If a high-mettled creature like this,'
said he, 'can't be broken 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."
08 Ginger's Story Continued
The next time that Ginger and I were together in the paddock she told me
about 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. I 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.
"I 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 flying from my lips as I chafed and
fretted at the bits and rein. It was worst when we had to stand by the
hour waiting for our 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."
"Did not your master take any thought for you?" I said.
"No," said she, "he only cared to have a stylish turnout, 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 smoothed and quieted by kindness, I got only a
surly word or a blow. If he had been civil I would have tried to
bear it. I was willing to work, and ready to work hard too; but to be
tormented for nothing but their fancies angered me. What right had they
to make me suffer like that? Besides the soreness in my mouth, and
the pain in my neck, it always made my windpipe feel bad, and if I had
stopped there long I know it would have spoiled my breathing; but I grew
more and more restless and irritable, I could not help it; and I began
to snap and kick when any one came to harness me; for this the groom
beat me, and one day, as they had just buckled us into the carriage,
and were straining my head up with that rein, I began to plunge and
kick with all my might. I soon broke a lot of harness, and kicked myself
clear; so that was an end of that place.
"After this I was sent to Tattersall's to be sold; of course I could not
be warranted free from vice, so nothing was said about that. My handsome
appearance and good paces soon brought a gentleman to bid for me, and I
was bought by another dealer; he tried me in all kinds of ways and with
different bits, and he soon found out what I could not bear. At last
he drove me quite without a 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 always spoke
in a rough, impatient voice, and if I did not move in the stall the
moment he wanted me, he would hit me above the hocks with his stable
broom or the fork, whichever he might have in his hand. Everything he
did was rough, and I began to hate him; he wanted to make me afraid
of him, but I was too high-mettled for that, and one day when he had
aggravated me more than usual I bit him, which of course put him in a
great rage, and he began to hit me about the head with a riding whip.
After that he never dared to come into my stall again; either my heels
or my teeth were ready for him, and he knew it. I was quite quiet with
my master, but of course he listened to what the man said, and so I was
sold again.
"The same dealer heard of me, and said he thought he knew one place
where I should do well. Twas a pity,' he said, 'that such a fine horse
should go to the bad, for want of a real good chance,' and the end of it
was that I came here not long before you did; but I had then made up my
mind that men were my natural enemies and that I must defend myself. Of
course it is very different here, but who knows how long it will last? I
wish I could think about things as you do; 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."
"I don't mean to," she said, "while they are good to me. I did bite
James once pretty sharp, but John said, 'Try her with kindness,' and
instead of punishing me as I expected, James came to me with his arm
bound up, and brought me a bran mash and stroked me; and I have never
snapped at him since, and I won't either."
I was sorry for Ginger, but of course I knew very little then, and I
thought most likely she made the worst of it; however, I found that as
the weeks went on she grew much more gentle and cheerful, and had lost
the watchful, defiant look that she used to turn on any strange person
who came near her; and one day James said, "I do believe that mare is
getting fond of me, she quite whinnied after me this morning when I had
been rubbing her forehead."
"Ay, ay, 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
beautiful neck. "Well, my pretty one, well, how do things go with you
now? You are a good bit happier than when you came to us, I think."
She put her nose up to him in a friendly, trustful way, while he rubbed
it gently.
"We shall make a cure of her, John," he said.
"Yes, sir, she's wonderfully improved; she's not the same creature that
she was; it's 'the Birtwick balls', sir," said John, laughing.
This was a little joke of John's; he used to say that a regular course
of "the Birtwick horseballs" would cure almost any vicious horse; these
balls, he said, were made up of patience and gentleness, firmness and
petting, one pound of each to be mixed up with half a pint of common
sense, and given to the horse every day.
09 Merrylegs
Mr. Blomefield, the vicar, had a large family of boys and girls;
sometimes they used to come and play with Miss Jessie and Flora. One
of the girls was as old as Miss Jessie; two of the boys were older, and
there were several little ones. When they came there was plenty of work
for Merrylegs, for nothing pleased them so much as getting on him by
turns and riding him all about the orchard and the home paddock, and
this they would do by the hour together.
One afternoon he had been out with them a long time, and when James
brought him in and put on his halter he said:
"There, you rogue, mind how you behave yourself, or we shall get into
trouble."
"What have you been doing, Merrylegs?" I asked.
"Oh!" said he, tossing his little head, "I have only been giving those
young people a lesson; they did not know when they had had enough, nor
when I had had enough, so I just pitched them off backward; that was the
only thing they could understand."
"What!" said I, "you threw the children off? I thought you did know
better than that! Did you throw Miss Jessie or Miss Flora?"
He looked very much offended, and said:
"Of course not; I would not do such a thing for the best oats that ever
came into the stable; why, I am as careful of our young ladies as the
master could be, and as for the little 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 galloped them about,
up and down the fields and all about the orchard, for a good hour. They
had each cut a great hazel stick for a riding-whip, and laid it on a
little too hard; but I took it in good part, till at last I thought we
had had enough, so I stopped two or three times by way of a hint.
Boys, you see, think a horse or pony is like a steam-engine or a
thrashing-machine, and can go on as 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 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."
"If I had been you," said Ginger, "I would have given those boys a good
kick, and that would have given them a lesson."
"No doubt you would," said Merrylegs; "but then I am not quite such a
fool (begging your pardon) as to anger our master or make James ashamed
of me. Besides, those children are under my charge when they are riding;
I tell you they are intrusted 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 Merrylegs will take as much care of them as
you or I could; I assure you I would not sell that pony for any money,
he is so perfectly good-tempered and trustworthy;' and do you think I am
such an ungrateful brute as to forget all the kind treatment I have
had here for five years, and all the trust they place in me, and turn
vicious because a couple of ignorant boys used me badly? No, no! you
never had a good place where they were kind to you, and so you don't
know, and I'm sorry for you; but I can tell you good places make good
horses. I wouldn't vex our people for anything; I love them, I do," said
Merrylegs, and he gave a low "ho, ho, ho!" through his nose, as he used
to do in the morning when he heard James' 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."
10 A Talk in the Orchard
Ginger and I were not of the regular tall carriage horse breed, we had
more of the racing 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 master used to say that he disliked either horse or man that
could do but one thing; and as he did not want to show off in London
parks, he preferred a more active and useful kind 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 Merrylegs. It was so cheerful to be trotting and cantering all
together that it always put us in high spirits. I had the best of it,
for I always carried the mistress; her weight was little, her voice was
sweet, and her hand was so light on the 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 feel the slightest movement of the driver's hand, and
we know in an instant what is required of us. My mouth has 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 ventured to
ask him by what accident it was that he had lost his tail. "Accident!"
he snorted with a fierce look, "it was no accident! it was a cruel,
shameful, cold-blooded act! When I was young I was taken to a place
where these cruel things were done; I was tied up, and made fast so that
I could not stir, and then they came and cut off my long and 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 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 lifelong wrong, and a lifelong 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."
"I suppose it is fashion that makes them strap our heads up with those
horrid bits that I was tortured with in London," said Ginger.
"Of course it is," said he; "to my mind, fashion is one of the wickedest
things in the world. Now look, for instance, at the way they serve dogs,
cutting off their tails to make them look plucky, and shearing up their
pretty little ears to a point to make them both look sharp, forsooth. I
had a dear friend once, a brown terrier; 'Skye' they called her. She was
so fond of me that she never would sleep out of my stall; she made
her bed under the manger, and there she had a litter of five as pretty
little puppies as need be; none were drowned, for they were a valuable
kind, and how pleased she was with them! and when they got their eyes
open and crawled about, it was a real pretty sight; but one day the man
came and took them all away; I thought he might be afraid I should tread
upon them. But it was not so; in the evening poor Skye brought them back
again, one 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 creatures?"
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 her head with flashing
eyes and distended nostrils, declaring that men were both brutes and
blockheads.
"Who talks about blockheads?" said Merrylegs, who just came up from
the old apple-tree, where he had been rubbing himself against the low
branch. "Who talks about blockheads? I believe that is a bad word."
"Bad words were made for bad things," said Ginger, and she told him what
Sir Oliver had said.
"It is all true," said Merrylegs sadly, "and I've seen that about the
dogs over and over again where I lived first; but we won't talk about
it here. You know that master, and John and James are always good to
us, and talking against men in such a place as this doesn't seem fair
or grateful, and you know there are good masters and good grooms 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, especially Sir Oliver, who was dearly fond of his
master; and to turn the subject I said, "Can any one tell me the use of
blinkers?"
"No!" said Sir Oliver shortly, "because they are no use."
"They are supposed," said Justice, the roan cob, in his calm way, "to
prevent horses from shying and starting, and getting so frightened as to
cause accidents."
"Then what is the reason they do not put them on riding horses;
especially on ladies' horses?" said I.
"There is no reason at all," said he quietly, "except the fashion; they
say that a horse would be so frightened to see the wheels of his own
cart or carriage coming behind him that he would be sure to run away,
although of course when he is ridden he sees them all about him if the
streets are crowded. I admit they do sometimes come too close to be
pleasant, but we don't run away; we are used to it, and understand it,
and if we 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 frightened when
they were young, who may be the better for them; but as I never was
nervous, I can't judge."
"I consider," said Sir Oliver, "that blinkers are dangerous things in
the night; we horses can see much better in the dark than 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 one dark night, and just by Farmer Sparrow's
house, where the pond is close to the road, the wheels went too near the
edge, and the hearse was overturned into the water; both the horses were
drowned, and the driver hardly escaped. Of course after this accident
a stout white rail was put up that might be easily seen, but if those
horses had not been partly blinded, they would of themselves have kept
further from the edge, and no accident would have happened. When our
master's carriage was overturned, before you came here, it was said that
if the lamp on the left side had not gone out, John would have seen the
great hole that the road-makers had left; and so he might, but if old
Colin had not had blinkers on he would have seen it, lamp or no lamp,
for he was far too knowing an old horse to run into danger. As it was,
he was very much hurt, the carriage was broken, and how John escaped
nobody knew."
"I should say," said Ginger, curling her nostril, "that these men, who
are so wise, had better give orders that in the 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 Merrylegs held up his
knowing little face and said, "I'll 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 them, it might
be dangerous in some cases to leave them off'; and John said he thought
it would be a good thing if all colts were broken in without blinkers,
as was the case in some foreign countries. So let us cheer up, and have
a run to the other end of the orchard; I believe the wind has blown down
some apples, and we might just as well eat them as the slugs."
Merrylegs could not be resisted, so we broke off our long conversation,
and got up our spirits by munching some very sweet apples which lay
scattered on the grass.
11 Plain Speaking
The longer I lived at Birtwick the more proud and happy I felt at having
such a place. Our master and mistress were respected and beloved by all
who knew them; they were good and kind to everybody and everything; not
only men and women, but horses and donkeys, dogs and cats, cattle and
birds; there was no oppressed or ill-used creature that had not a friend
in them, and their servants took the same tone. If any of the village
children were known to treat any creature cruelly they soon heard about
it from the Hall.
The squire and Farmer Grey had worked together, as they said, for more
than twenty years to get check-reins on the cart-horses done away with,
and in our parts you seldom saw them; and sometimes, if mistress met
a heavily laden horse with his head strained up she would stop the
carriage and get out, and reason with the driver in her sweet serious
voice, and try to show him how foolish and cruel it was.
I don't think any man could withstand our mistress. I wish all ladies
were like her. Our master, too, used to come down very heavy sometimes.
I remember he was riding me toward home one morning when we saw a
powerful man driving toward 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 toward
them; the man, without word or warning, wrenched the creature's head
round with such a force and suddenness that he nearly threw it on its
haunches. Recovering itself it was going on, when he began to lash it
furiously. The pony plunged forward, but the strong, heavy hand held the
pretty creature back with force almost enough to break its jaw, while
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 to do with it. I must
say, Mr. Sawyer, that a 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 toward man or to |