DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2016 with funding from Duke University Libraries https://archive.org/details/blackbeauty01sewe BLACK BEAUTY One of the horses was struggling in the stream; the other was gro anin g on the grass BLACK BEAUTY |\ THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A HORSE BY ANNA SEWELL With Introduction by ALMA B. CALDWELL Illustrated by EDWIN JOHN PRITTIE THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY Chicago PHILADELPHIA Toronto Copyright, 1927, by The John C. Winston Company Copyright in Great Britain and the British Dominions and Possessions Copyright in the Philippine Islands All rights reserved PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. AT THE INTERNATIONAL PRESS The John C. Winston Compant, Pbopb. Philadelphia CONTENTS CHAPTER sr xmi. J- PAGE I. My Early Home 1 II. The Hunt 5 III. My Breaking In 10 IV. Birtwick Park 16 V. A Fair Start 21 VI. Liberty 27 VII. Ginger 30 VIII. Ginger’s Story Continued 37 IX. Merrylegs. 43 X. A Talk in the Orchard 49 XI. Plain Speaking 58 XII. A Stormy Day 63 XIII. The Devil’s Trademark 69 XIV. James Howard 74 XV. The Old Hostler 79 XVI. The Fire... 84 XVII. John Manly’s Talk 90 XVIII. Going for the Doctor 96 XIX. Only Ignorance 102 XX. Joe Green 107 XXI. The Parting 112 PART II XXII. Earlshall 117 XXIII. A Strike for Liberty 123 XXIV. The Lady Anne, or a Runaway Horse 128 XXV. Reuben Smith 137 V I 292319 CONTENTS vi CHAPTER PAGE XXVI. How It Ended 143 XXVII. Ruined, and Going Downhill 147 XXVIII. A Job Horse and His Drivers 152 XXIX. Cockneys 158 XXX. A Thief 167 XXXI. A Humbug 171 PART III XXXII. A Horse Fair 177 XXXIIL A London Cab Horse 183 XXXIV. An Old War Horse 189 XXXV. Jerry Barker 197 XXXVI. The Sunday Cab 206 XXXVII. The Golden Rule 213 XXXVIII. Dolly and a Real Gentleman 219 XXXIX. Seedy Sam 225 XL. Poor Ginger 231 XLL The Butcher 234 XLII. The Election 239 XLIII. A Friend in Need 242 XLIV. Old Captain and His Successor 249 XLV. Jerry’s New Year 256 PART IV XLVI. Jakes and the Lady 265 XLVII. Hard Times 271 XLVIII. Farmer Thoroughgood and His Grand- son Willie 277 XLIX. My Last Home 283 Questions for Thought and Discussion 289 Glossary 295 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS One of the horses was struggling in the stream; THE OTHER WAS groaning ON the grass. .Frontispiece PAGE John rode me first slowly, then a trot, then a CANTER 20 /‘The children did not know when they had ENOUGH, SO I JUST PITCHED THEM OFF BACK- WARDS” 44 An oak fell right across the road just before us. 65 James led me out of the stable 86 The carter was shouting and flogging the horses UNMERCIFULLY 106 With scarcely a pause Lizzie took the leap 132 I UTTERED NO SOUND, BUT JUST STOOD THERE AND LISTENED 142 Ginger and I neighed to each other as I was led off by Robert. 150 The farrier examined my feet one by one 175 “My dear master was cheering on his comrades WHEN ONE OF THE BALLS, WHIZZING CLOSE TO MY HEAD, STRUCK HIM” 194 I GALLOPED ACROSS THE MEADOW OUT OF SHEER SPIRITS AT BEING FREE 217 “Just get into this cab and I’ll drive you safe TO THE HOSPITAL,” SAID JERRY 245 My groom began patting me as if he were quite OVERJOYED AT SEEING ME AGAIN 286 vii 292313 “Look— how round his straining throat Grace and shifting beauty float : Sinewy strength is in his reins, And the red blood gallops through his veins; Richer, redder, never ran Through the boasting heart of man.” — “ The Blood Horse” Bryan Waller Procter . i (viii) INTRODUCTION What a treat is before the reader who is taking- up this volume, whether it be for the first time or for the oft-repeated reading! It will bring forth many an appreciative thought for creatures in the animal world as well as create more sympathy for fellow creatures. The story was first published in 1887, having been written by the Englishwoman, Anna Sewell, from a sick bed. Her hope was to influence people to be kind to animals. She took this vivid means to do it. If an animal could be gifted with powers of speech such as those attributed to Black Beauty, he could hardly make a more convincing appeal for kindness at the hands of his human masters. Possibly when we come to understand them better, the acts and sounds of horses may mean as much to us as did Black Beauty’s when written into conver- sation and story by Miss Sewell. We enjoy, music, art, nature — all beauty according to our power to appreciate — so when we become more sympathetic, more attuned to meanings as evi- denced by animals — possibly we may know what they say. We already often know how they feel IX X INTRODUCTION as evidenced by their acts as they respond to treatment given to them. Black Beauty’s introduction is skilfully handled through his own story of himself as a colt. He played with other colts in pleasant pas- tures. The good advice given him by his mother, as occasion demanded, proved a guide to him and helped him to form habits which carried him through life and made him known among horses, hostlers, and owners as a fine character. Note how the suggestion was made as to why he should not kick or bite — because he was well-bred. Black Beauty’s first unpleasant contact with life was through observing a hare hunt and the English attitude toward this sport. The conse- quent death of a fine young man and a splendid horse seemed to him a high price to pay for the capture of one little hare. The character qualities evidenced by Black Beauty and admired by his companions he at- tributes wholly to the kind and skilful treatment from those who trained him. The principles of behavior which he quotes from his mother who was his “pacemaker” and from his good groom John are as well adapted to human behavior as to that of horses. He used his ears and his time to a good advantage. It will interest you to note INTRODUCTION xi how many times and in how many ways Black Beauty tried to communicate his feelings to those about him. He did this by arching his neck when pleased and by attempting to do what was expected even though his harness or trappings were unfit for the task. His fine behavior usually brought comfortable results. The most inspiring part of this story is found “between the lines,” where we read of the effort of this horse to maintain a high standard of service when even though because of various hard experiences he found himself “going downhill” as to his prowess. When instead of the gallant showy service he enjoyed while young he found himself obliged to perform menial tasks, he tried to keep his courage intact. Much was demanded of him, and his story of how he met these demands is an inspiration to human beings. The reader will rejoice in the account of the good home with which Black Beauty closes his story. The story will never grow old. No speed story of plane or motor can rival the appeal to the best in human nature which prompts kind- ness to all dependents and subordinates, whether man or beast. No machine can give the satisfac- tory intelligent response to kind treatment that Black Beauty returned to associates, whether human or animal. Nor can a lifeless mechanical Xll INTRODUCTION device create the sympathy and companionship which nearly every human being feels for the horse and the dog. Many children who live in cities have little or no knowledge of horses or other animals. This story provides them worth-while information along these lines. A happy surprise awaits you at the close of the story. PART 1 Chapter I MY EARLY HOME T HE first place that I can well remember was a 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 iroadside. 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 [ 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 vas cold, we had a warm shed near the grove. As soon as I was old enough to eat grass, ny mother worked in the daytime, and came Dack in the evening. There were six young colts in the meadow Desides me. They were older than I was; some vere nearly as large as grown-up horses. I used 1 2 BLACK BEAUTY to run with them, and had great fun. We used to gallop all together round the field, as hard as we could go. Sometimes the play was rough, 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 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 called her Pet. Our master was a good, kind man. He gave us good food, good lodging, and kind words. We MY EARLY HOME 3 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 1 would give me a piece of bread, and sometimes he brought a carrot for my mother. All the i horses would come to him, but I think we were his favorites. My mother always took him to I town on a market day in a light gig. We had 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 catch- ing Dick by the arm, he gave him such a box on the ear as made him roar with the pain and sur- prise. 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 4 BLACK BEAUTY 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 II THE HUNT B EFORE I was two years old a circumstance > happened which I have never forgotten. It was early in the spring; there had been i little frost in the night, and a light mist still lung over the woods and meadows. We colts vere feeding at the lower part of the field when ve heard, quite in the distance, what sounded ike the cry of dogs. The oldest of the colts aised his head, pricked his ears, and said, “There ire the hounds!” and immediately cantered off, bllowed by the rest of us, to the upper part of he field, where we could look over the hedge .nd see several fields beyond. My mother and ,n old riding horse of our master’s were also tanding 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 unt.” Soon the dogs were all tearing down the eld of young wheat next to ours. I never heard tich a noise as they made. They did not bark, or howl, nor whine, but kept on a “Yo! yo, o, o! 2 5 6 BLACK BEAUTY Yo! yo, o, o!” at the top of their voices. Afte: them came a number of men on horseback, al galloping as fast as they could. The old horses snorted and looked eagerl; after them, and we young colts wanted to b» galloping with them but they were soon awa; into the fields lower down; here it seemed as i they had come to a stand; the dogs left off bark ing and ran about every way with their nose to the ground. “They have lost the scent,” said the ol< horse, “perhaps the hare will get off.” “What hare?” I said. “Oh, I don’t know what hare; likely enoug it may be one of our own hares out of the woods Any hare they can find will do for the dogs an men to run after.” Before long the dogs began their “Yc yo, o, o!” again, and back they came all togethe at full speed, making straight for our meadow at the part where the high bank and hedge ovei hang the brook. “Now we shall see the hare,” said m mother; and just then a hare, wild with frigh rushed by and made for the woods. On came the dogs; they burst over th bank, leaped the stream, and came dashin across the field, followed by the huntsmen. Si THE HUNT 7 Dr eight men leaped their horses clean over, llose upon the dogs. The hare tried to get Through the fence; it was too thick, and she Turned sharp around to make for the road, but t was too late; the dogs were upon her with ;heir wild cries. We heard one shriek, and that vas the end of her. One of the huntsmen rode jip and whipped off the dogs, who would soon lave torn her to pieces. He held her up by the eg, torn and bleeding, and all the gentlemen ieemed well pleased. As for me, I was so astonished that I did lot at first see what was going on by the brook. ' 'i Vhen I did look, there was a sad sight, two fine iorses were down; one was struggling in the tream, and the other was groaning on the :rass. One of the riders was getting out of the water, covered with mud; the other lay quite tm. “His neck is broken,” said my mother. “And serves him right, too,” said one of the olts. I thought the same, but my mother did not Din with us. ( “Well, no,” she said, “you must not say that. ‘Ut though I am an old horse, and have seen . nd heard a great deal, I never yet could make lilt why men are so fond of this sport. They i 8 BLACK BEAUTY 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. However, 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 tc the young man; but my master, who had beer watching what was going on, was the first tc raise him. His head fell back and his arms hung down, and everyone 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 youns man, and the pride of his family. They were now riding in all directions— to the doctor’s, to the farrier’s, and to Squire Gordon’s, to let him know about his son. Whei the farrier looked at the black horse that la: groaning on the grass, he felt him all over, ane shook his head; one of his legs was broken Then someone ran to our master’s house an< came back with a gun; presently there was ; loud bang and a dreadful shriek, and then al was still. The black horse moved no more. My mother seemed much troubled; she sai< THE HUNT 9 she had known that horse for years, and that pis name was Rob Roy. He was a good horse, md there was no vice in him. She never would *0 to that part of the field afterwards. Not many days after, we heard the church Dell tolling for a long time, and looking over the ?ate, we saw a long strange coach covered with plack cloth and drawn by black horses; after ;hat came another and another and another, and ill were black, while the bell kept tolling, toll- : ng. They were carrying young Gordon to the hurchyard to bury him. He would never ride tgain. What they did with Rob Roy I never mew; but ’twas all for one little hare. Chapter III 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 i white star on my forehead. 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/l 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. Everyone may not know what breaking in is, therefore I will describe it. It means tc 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 his rider wishes, and to go 10 MY BREAKING IN 11 quietly. Besides this, he has to learn to wear i collar, a crupper, and a breeching, and to stand still while they are put on; then to have i cart or a chaise fixed behind, so that he can- lot walk or trot without dragging it after him; md he must go fast or slow, just as his driver vishes. He must never start at what he sees, nor speak to other horses, nor bite, nor kick, nor liave any will of his own, but always do his mas- ter’s will, even though he may be very tired or Ungry. The worst of all is, when his harness s once on, he may neither jump for joy nor lie {own for weariness. So you see this breaking n is a great thing. I had long been used to a halter and a head- tall, and to be led about in the fields and lanes [uietly, but now I was to have a bit and bridle. /Iy master gave me some oats as usual, and Iter a good deal of coaxing he got the bit into iy mouth and the bridle fixed, but it was a nasty hing. Those who have never had a bit in their Souths cannot think how badly it feels. A Teat piece of cold, hard steel as thick as a man’s 1 nger is pushed into one’s mouth, between one’s I peth, and over one’s tongue, with the ends com- l ig out at the corners of your mouth, and held 12 BLACK BEAUTY 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! At least I thought so; but I knew my mother always wore one when she went out, and so, what with the nice oats, and what with my master’s pats, kind words, and gentle ways, I learned 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 around 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 MY BREAKING IN 13 one after the other, and cut away some of the hoof. It did not pain me, so I stood still on three legs until 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 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 was placed on my neck, and a bridle with great side- pieces, called blinkers, against my eyes; 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 felt like kicking, but of course I could not kick such a !?ood master, and so in time I got used to every- thing, 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 zery great advantage. My master sent me for i fortnight to a neighboring farmer’s, who had - I 14 BLACK BEAUTY 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 clat- ter, 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 farther 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 train as the cows and sheep did. Since then I have seen many horses much MY BREAKING IN 15 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 anyone wants to break in a young horse well, that is the way. My master often drove me in double har- ness, 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 cruel men, who never ought to have a horse or a dog to call their own. Besides, there are a great many foolish men, ignorant and careless, who never trouble them- selves to think. These spoil more good 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 do your best wherever it is, and keep up your good name.” Chapter IV BIRTWICK PARK A T THIS time I used to stand in the stable, L 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 Gor- don’s, who took me away to the Hall. My mas- ter said, “Good-by, Darkie, be a good horse and always do your best.” I could not say “Good-by,” so I put my nose in 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. After that came 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 16 BIRTWICK PARK 17 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, 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. 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 oats I looked around. 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 chaise. They think 18 BLACK BEAUTY a great deal of me. Are you going to live next door to me in the box?” “Yes,” I said. “Well, then,” he said, “I hope you are good- tempered; I do not like anyone next door who bites.” Just then a horse’s head looked over from the stall beyond; the ears were laid back and the eyes looked rather ill-tempered. This was a tall, chestnut mare, with a long, handsome neck; she looked across to me and said: “So you 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 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 oi mare, and it is my wish to live at peace.” “Well,” she said, “we shall see; I do not want to have words with a young thing like you.” I said no more. In the afternoon, Merry- legs told me all about it. “The thing is this,” said Merrylegs. “Gin- ger has a habit of biting and snapping; that is why they call her Ginger, and when she was ir the loose box she used to snap very much. One BXRTWICK PARK 19 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 zome, 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, lay, and corn, and could not think what pleasure Ginger found in it. “Well, I don’t think she does find pleasure,” said Merrylegs, “it is just a bad habit; she says 10 one was ever kind to her, and why should she lot bite? It is a very bad habit, but I am sure f all she says be true she must have been very 11 -used before- she came here. John does all he '.an to please her, and James does all he can, ind our master rarely uses a whip, so I think he might be good-tempered here. “You see,” he said, with a wise look, “I am welve years old. I know a great deal, and I an tell you there is not a better place for a torse all around the country than this. John 3 the best groom that ever was. He has been Jiere fourteen years; and you never saw such a :ind boy as James is. So that it is Ginger’s own ault that she did not stay in that box.” Chapter V A FAIR START r HE name of the coachman was John Manly; he had a wife and one little child, and they lived in the coachman’s cottage very near te stables. The next morning he took me into the yard Bid gave me a good grooming, and just as I going into my box, with my coat soft and the Squire came in to look at me, and 1 emed pleased. “John,” he said, “I meant to have tried the irn horse this morning, but I have other busi- [bss. You may as well take him around after beakfast. Go by the common and the High- lood, and back by the water mill and the river; t at will show his paces.” “I will, sir,” said John. After breakfast he came and fitted me out th a bridle. He was very particular in letting o it and taking in the straps, to fit my head com- fjrtably. Then he brought a saddle, but it was ■fit broad enough for my back; he saw it in a o inute and went for another, which fitted nicely. « 21 22 BLACK BEAUTY He rode me first slowly, then a trot, then canter, and when we were on the common 1 gave me a light touch with his whip, and we ha a splendid gallop. “Ho, ho! my boy,” he said, as he pulled ir up, “you would like to follow the hounds, i think.” We came back through the park and mil the Squire and Mrs. Gordon walking; the j stopped and John jumped off. “Well, John, how does he go?” “First-rate, sir,” answered John. “He is t fleet as a deer, and has a fine spirit, too; but tl lightest touch of the rein will guide him. At tl end of the common we met one of those trave ing carts hung all over with baskets, rugs, ar such like. You know, sir, many horses won pass those carts quietly. He just took a goc look at it, and then went on as quiet and pleasai as could be. They were shooting rabbits nee the High wood, and a gun went off' close by; 1 pulled up a little and looked, but didn’t stir a ste to right or left. I held the rein steady and didn hurry him, and it’s my opinion he has not bee frightened or ill-used while he was young.” “That’s well,” said the Squire; “I will t) him myself tomorrow.” The next day I was brought up for n A FAIR START 23 naster. I remembered my mother’s counsel aid my good old master’s, and I tried to do exactly what he wanted me to do. I found he vas a very good rider, and thoughtful for his ■torse, too. When he came home, the mistress vas at the hall door as he rode up. “Well, my dear,” she said, “how do you like lim?” “He is exactly what John said,” he replied, ‘a pleasanter creature I never wish to mount. Tiat shall we call him?” “Would you like Ebony? He is as black as )ony,” she said. “No, not Ebony.” “Will you call him Blackbird, like your icle’s old horse?” “No, he is far handsomer than old Black- i rd ever was.” is “Yes,” she said, “he is really quite a beauty, 11 id he has such a sweet, good-tempered face ?;hd such a fine, intelligent eye — what do you is y to calling him Black Beauty?” lii “Black Beauty — why, yes, I think that is a Wry good name. If you like, it shall be his me,” and so it was. 11 I When John went into the stable he told Jmes that the master and mistress had chosen i a ^ood sensible name for me, that meant some- 24 BLACK BEAUTY thing; not like Marengo, or Pegasus, or At dallah. They both laughed, and James said: “If it was not for bringing back the pasl I should have named him Rob Roy, for I neve saw two horses more alike.” “That's no wonder,” said John. “Didn’ you know that Farmer Gray's old Duchess wa the mother of them both?” I had never heard that before; and so poo Rob Roy who was killed at that hunt was m brother! I did not wonder that my mother wa so troubled. It seems that horses have no rela tions; at least they never know each other afte they are sold. John seemed very proud of me; he used t make my mane and tail almost as smooth as | lady's hair. And he would talk to me a grea deal; of course, I did not understand all he saic but I learned more and more to know what h meant and what he wanted me to do. I gre^ very fond of him, he was so gentle and kinc He seemed to know just how a horse feels, an when he cleaned me he knew the tender place and the ticklish places. When he brushed m head, he went as carefully over my eyes as i they were his own, and never stirred up an ill-temper. James Howard, the stable boy, was just s A FAIR START 25 entle and pleasant in his way, so I thought my- self well off. There was another man who helped in the yard, but he had very little to do vith Ginger and me. A few days after this I had to go out with linger in the carriage. I wondered how we nould get on together; but except laying her f having my best ornament taken from me, hough that was bad; but it was this: how could ever brush the flies off my sides and my hind egs any more? You who have tails just whisk he flies off without thinking about it, and you an’t tell what a torment it is to have them settle pon you and sting and sting, and have nothing i the world to lash them off with. I tell you it b a lifelong wrong and a lifelong loss; but, lank Heaven, they don’t do it now.” “What did they do it for, then?” said -inger. “For fashion!” said the old horse, with a samp of his foot, “if you know what that means, 'here was not a well-bred young horse in my me that had not his tail docked in that 62 BLACK BEAUTY shameful way, just as if the good God tha made us did not know what we wanted, am what looked best.” “I suppose it is the fashion that make them strap our heads up with those horrid bit that I was tortured with in London,” sai« Ginger. “Of course it is,” said he. “To my mim fashion is one of the wickedest things in th world. Now look, for instance, at the way the; serve dogs, cutting off their tails to make ther. look plucky, and shearing up their pretty littl ears to a point to make them look sharp forsooth. “I had a dear friend once, a brown terriei ‘Skye/ they called her. She was so fond of m that she never would sleep out of my stall. Sh made her bed under the manger, and there sh had a litter of five as pretty little puppies a need be. None were drowned, for they were i valuable kind, and how pleased she was wit them! When they got their eyes open am crawled about it was a real pretty sight. “But one day the man came in and too' them all away. I thought he might be afrai I should tread upon them. But it was not so in the evening poor Skye brought them bac' again, one by one, in her mouth; not the happ IN THE ORCHARD 53 ittle things that they were, but bleeding and rying pitifully; they had all had a piece of their ails cut off, and the soft flap of their pretty Jttle ears was cut quite off. How their mother : cked them, and how troubled she was, poor fling! I never forgot it. “They healed in time, and they forgot the ;ain, but the nice short flap, that of course was iitended to protect the delicate part of their me and so dreadful, that I found a bitter deling toward men rise up in my mind that I lever had before. Of course Ginger was very luch excited. She flung up her head with fishing eyes and distended nostrils, declaring tiat men were both brutes and blockheads. “Who talks about blockheads?” said I'errylegs, who had been rubbing himself gainst the old apple tree. “Who talks about tockheads? I believe that is a bad word.” 54 BLACK BEAUTY “Bad words were made for bad things, said Ginger, and she told him what Sir Olive had said. “It is all true,” said Merrylegs, sadly, “am I have seen that about dogs over and over agai: where I lived first; but we won’t talk about i here. You know that master and John am James are always good to us, talking agains men in such a place as this doesn’t seem fair o grateful. You know there are other goo< masters and good grooms besides ours, thoug of course ours are the best.” This wise speech of good little Merrylegs which we knew was quite true, cooled us ai down, especially Sir Oliver, who was dearly fom of his master To turn the subject I said: “Can anyone tell me the use of blinkers? “No!” said Sir Oliver, “because they ar no use.” “They are supposed,” said Justice, the roa: cob, in his calm way, “to prevent horses fror shying and starting, and getting so frightene as to cause accidents.” “Then what is the reason they do not pu them on riding horses; especially on ladiet horses?” said I. “There is no reason at all,” said he quietlj “except the fashion. They say that a hors IN THE ORCHARD 55 jvould be so badly frightened to see the wheels )f his own cart or carriage coming behind him jhat he would be sure to run away, although of course when he is ridden he sees them all about jiim if the streets are crowded. I admit they do iometimes come too close to be pleasant, but we lon’t run away; we are used to it, and under- stand it, and if we never had blinkers put on we hould never want them. We should see what Fas there, and know what was what, and be nuch less frightened than by only seeing bits •f things that we can’t understand. “Of course there may be some nervous torses who have been hurt or frightened when pey were young, who may be better for them; >ut as I never was nervous, I can’t judge.” “I consider,” said Sir Oliver, “that blinkers re dangerous things in the night. We horses pn see much better in the dark than men can, |nd many an accident would never have appened if horses might have had the full use f their eyes. “Some years ago, I remember, there was a earse with two horses returning one dark ight, and just by Farmer Sparrow’s house, here the pond is close to the road, the wheels v ent too near the edge, and the hearse was overturned into the water; both the horses were 56 BLACK BEAUTY drowned, and the driver hardly escaped. 0 course after this accident a stout white rail wa put up that might be easily seen; but if thos horses had not been partly blinded, they wouL 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 tha if the lamp on the left side had not gone ou John would have seen the great hole that th« road makers had left; and so he might. But i old Colin had not had blinkers on he would hav< seen it, lamp or no lamp, for he was far to< knowing an old horse to run into danger. As i was, he was very much hurt, the carriage wa: broken, and how John escaped nobody knew.’ “I should say,” said Ginger, curling hei nostril, “that these men who are so wise, hac better give orders that in future all foals should be born with their eyes set just in the middle o: their foreheads, instead of on the side. TheJ 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 fact and said: “Fll tell you a secret: I believe John doe: not approve of blinkers. I heard him talking IN THE ORCHARD 57 Tith master about it one day. The master said hat ‘if horses had been used to them, it might >e dangerous in some cases to leave them off; ndJohn said he thought it would be a good ,hing if all colts were broken in without tinkers, as was the case in some foreign coun- ties. So, let us cheer up, and have a run to the ther end of the orchard. I believe the wind as blown down some apples, and we might just js well eat them as the slugs.” Merrylegs could not be resisted, so we broke Iff our long conversation, and got up our spirits jy munching some very sweet apples which lay mattered on the grass. i j 'I n 3 Chapter XI PLAIN SPEAKING T HE longer I lived at Birtwick, the mor< proud and happy I felt at having such r < place. Our master and mistress wen respected and beloved by all who knew them They were good and kind to everybody anc everything; not only to men and women, but t( horses and donkeys, dogs and cats, cattle anc birds. There was no oppressed or ill-usec creature that had not a friend in them, anc their servants took the same tone. If any of the village were known to treat any creature cruelly they soon heard about it from the Hall. The Squire and Farmer Grey had workec together, as they said, for more than twenty years to get checkreins on the carthorses done away with, and in our parts you seldom sav them. Sometimes if mistress met a heavity laden horse, with his head strained up, she would stop the carriage, and reason with the driver ir her sweet, serious voice, and try to show hiir how foolish and cruel it was. I don’t think any man could withstand otu mistress. I wish all ladies were like her. Oui 58 PLAIN SPEAKING 59 naster, too, used to come down very heavy ometimes. I remember he was riding me oward home one morning, when we saw a >owerful man driving toward us in a light pony haise, with a beautiful little bay pony, with lender legs and a high-bred, sensitive head find face. Just as he came to the park gates, the little hing turned toward me. The man, without yord or warning, wrenched the creature’s head ound with such force and suddenness that he learly threw it on its haunches. Recovering tself, it was going on, when he began to lash it uriously. The pony plunged forward, but the trong, heavy hand held the pretty creature >ack with force almost enough to break its jaw, j/hile the whip still cut into him. It was a dread- ul sight to me, for I knew what fearful pain : gave that delicate little mouth; but master *ave me the word, and we were up with him in second. “Sawyer,” he cried in a stern voice, “is that ony made of flesh and blood?” “Flesh and blood and temper,” he said. He’s too fond of his own will, and that won’t ait me.” He spoke as if he was in a strong passion. He was a builder, who had often been 3 the park on business. 60 BLACK BEAUTY “And do you think,” said master, sternly “that treatment like this will make him fond o: your will?” “He had no business to make that turn; hi' road was straight on!” said the man roughly “You have often driven that pony up to mj place,” said master. “It only shows the creature’s memory and intelligence. How die he know that you were not going there again i But that has little to do with it. I must say. Sawyer, that more unmanly, brutal treatment oi 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. Remember, we shall all have to be judged according to our works, whether they be toward man or toward 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 brake. After a little conversation the Captain said: “What do you think of my new team, Mr. PLAIN SPEAKING 61 Douglas? You are the judge of horses in these barts, and I should like your opinion.” The master backed me a little, so as to get % good view of them. “They are an uncommonly landsome pair,” he said, “and if they are as rood as they look, I am sure you need not wish (or anything better; but I see you still hold that >et scheme of yours for worrying your horses ,nd lessening their power.” “What do you mean?” said the other, “the heckreins? Oh, ah! I know that’s a hobby of ours; well, the fact is, I like to see my horses old their heads up.” “So do I,” said master, “as well as any man, iut I don’t like to see them held up; that takes 11 the shine out of it. Now, you are a military :ian, Langley, and no doubt like to see your :3giment look well on parade, ‘heads up,’ and 11 that; but you would not take much credit for pur drill if all your men had their heads tied i) a backboard ! It might not be much harm on ]arade, except to worry and fatigue them; but bw would it be in a bayonet charge against the demy, when they want the free use of every i uscle, and all their strength thrown forward? 3 would not give much for their chance of mtory. And it is just the same with horses. !: V fret and worry their tempers, and decrease i 62 BLACK BEAUTY their power; you will not let them throw the: weight against their work, and so they have t do too much with their joints and muscles, an of course it wears them faster. “You may depend upon it, horses wei intended to have their heads free, as free £ men’s are; and if we could act a little moi according to common sense, and a good deal les according to fashion, we should find many thing work easier. Besides, you know as well as that if a horse makes a false step, he has muc less chance of recovering himself if his head an neck are fastened back. And now,” said th master, laughing, “I have given my hobby good trot out, can’t you make up your mind t mount him too, Captain? Your example woul go a long way.” “I believe you are right in theory,” said th other, “and that’s rather a hard hit about th soldiers; but — well — I’ll think about it,” and s they parted. Chapter XIX A STORMY DAY p\NE day late in the autumn my master 1/ had a long journey to go on business. I was put into the dogcart, and John went yith his master. I always liked to go in the dog- krt, it was so light, and the high wheels ran ilong so pleasantly. There had been a great deal <£ rain, and now the wind was very high and Hew the dry leaves across the road in a shower. We went along merrily till we came to the Ml bar and the low, wooden bridge. The river links were rather high, and the bridge, instead (: rising, went across just level, so that in the r iddle, if the river was full, the water would be r^arly up to the woodwork and planks; but as t'ere were good substantial rails on each side, pople did not mind it. The man at the gate said the river was rsing fast, and he feared it would be a bad right. Many of the meadows were under water, aid in one low part of the road the water was hlfway up to my knees; the bottom was good, a d master drove gently, so it was no matter. When we got to the town, of course I had 63 64 BLACK BEAUTY a good bait, but as the master’s busines engaged him a long time, we did not start fo home till rather late in the afternoon. The win< was then much higher, and I heard the maste say to John he had never been out in such ; storm; and so I thought, as we went along th skirts of a wood, where the great branches wer swaying about like twigs, and the rushinj sound was terrible. “I wish we were well out of this wood,” sail my master. “Yes, sir,” said John, “it would be rathe awkward if one of these branches came down.”! The words were scarcely out of his mout' when there was a groan, and a crack, and splitting sound, and tearing, crashing dowj among the other trees came an oak, torn up b the roots, and it fell right across the road jus before us. I will never say I was not frightened for I was. I stopped still, and trembled. 0 course I did not turn round or run away; I wa not brought up to that. John jumped out, an was in a moment at my head. “That was a very near touch,” said m master. “What’s to be done now?” “Well, sir, we can’t drive over that tree, nc yet get around it. There will be nothing for but to go back to the four crossways, and th£ An oak fell right across the road just before us 66 BLACK BEAUTY will be a good six miles before we get round t the wooden bridge again. It will make us lab but the horse is fresh.” So back we went and round by the crosf roads, but by the time we got back to the bridg it was very nearly dark. We could just see the the water was over the middle of it; but as ths happened sometimes when the floods were ou master did not stop. We were going along at a good pace, bi the moment my feet touched the first part of th bridge, I felt sure there was something wronj and I made a dead stop. “Go on, Beauty,” sai my master, and he gave me a touch of the whij but I dare not stir; he gave me a sharp cut; jumped, but I dare not go forward. “There’s something wrong, sir,” said Johi and he sprang out of the dogcart, and came t my head and looked all about. He tried to lea me forward. “Come on, Beauty, what’s th matter?” Of course I could not tell him, but I kne' very well that the bridge was not safe. Just then a man at the tollgate on the othe side ran out of the house, tossing a torch aboi like one mad. “Hoy, hoy, hoy! hello! stop!” he cried. “What’s the matter?” shouted my maste: A STORMY DAY 67 “The bridge is broken in the middle, and jart of it is carried away; if you come on you’ll Is in the river.” “Thank God!” said my master. “You Beauty!” said John, and took my Ifidle and gently turned me round to the right- land road by the river side. The sun had set some time; the wind seemed t> have lulled off after that furious blast which tre up the tree. It grew darker and darker, siller and stiller. I trotted quietly along, the wheels hardly making a sound on the soft road, lor a good while neither master nor John spoke, ad then master began in a serious voice. I could not understand much of what they Slid, but I found they thought, if I had gone on si the master wanted me, most likely the bridge \'ould have given way under us, and horse, ciaise, master, and man would have fallen into 'tie river. As the current was flowing very srongly, and there was no light and no help at f ind, it was more than likely we should all have ben drowned. Master said God had given men r ason, by which they could find out things for t emselves; but He had given animals knowl- e ge, which did not depend on reason, and viich was much more perfect in its way, and by v lich they had often saved the lives of men. 68 BLACK BEAUTY John had many stories to tell of dogs ar horses, and the wonderful things they had don He thought people did not value their anima half enough, nor make friends of them as the ought to do. I am sure he makes friends < them, if ever a man did. At last we came to the park gates, ar found the gardener looking out for us. He sa: that mistress had been in a dreadful way ev< since dark, fearing some accident had happene and that she had sent James off on Justice, tl roan cob, toward the bridge to make inquii after us. We saw a light at the hall door and at tt upper windows, and as we came out mistress ra out, saying, “Are you really safe, my dear? 01 I have been so anxious, fancying all sorts ( things. Have you had no accident?” “No, my dear; but if your Black Beaut had not been wiser than we were, we should a have been carried down the river at the woode bridge.” I heard no more, as they went into tt house, and John took me to the stable. Oh, whs a good supper he gave me that night, a goc bran mash and some crushed beans with n: oats, and such a thick bed of straw! and I ws glad of it, for I was tired. Chapter XIII THE DEVIL’S TRADEMARK D NE day when John and I had been out on some business of my master’s, and were returning gently on a long, straight road, jt some distance we saw a boy trying to leap a jony over a gate. The pony would not take the !iap, and the boy cut him with the whip, but !e only turned off on one side. He whipped him gain, but the pony turned off on the other side, 'hen the boy got off and gave him a good hard thrashing, and knocked him about the head; lien he got up again and tried to make him leap lie gate, kicking him all the time shamefully, Ijit still the pony refused. When we were nearly at the spot, the pony lut down his head and threw up his heels and s;nt the boy neatly over into a broad quickset bdge, and with the rein dangling from his head b set off home at a full gallop. John laughed at quite loud. “Served him right,” he said. “Oh, oh, oh!” cried the boy as he struggled siout among the thorns, “I say, come and help re out” « 69 70 BLACK BEAUTY “Thank ye,” said John, “I think you ar quite in the right place, and maybe a littl scratching will teach you not to leap a pony ove a gate that is too high for him,” and so with tha John rode off. “It may be,” said he to himself, “that youn; fellow is a liar as well as a cruel one; we’ll jus go home by Farmer Bushby’s, Beauty, and the: if anybody wants to know, you and I can tell ’eir ye see.” So we turned off to the right and soo: came up to the stack yard, and within sight o the house. The farmer was hurrying out int the road, and his wife was standing at the gab looking very frightened. “Have you seen my boy?” said Mr. Bushbj as we came up. “He went out an hour ago o my black pony, and the creature is just com back without a rider.” “I should think, sir,” said John, “he ha better be without a rider, unless he can be ridde properly.” “What do you mean?” asked the farme: “Well, sir, I saw your son whipping an kicking and knocking that good little pon about shamefully, because he would not leap gate that was too high for him. The pon behaved well, sir, and showed no vice; but at las he just threw up his heels, and tipped the youn THE DEVIL’S TRADEMARK 71 rentleman into the thorn hedge. He wanted ne to help him out; but, I hope you will excuse 'ne, sir, I did not feel inclined to do so. There ire no bones broken, sir, he’ll only get a few .cratches. I love horses, and it riles me to see hem badly used. It is a bad plan to aggravate in animal till he uses his heels; the first time is lot always the last.” During this time the mother began to cry, Oh, my poor Bill, I must go and meet him; he Qust be hurt.” “You had better go into the house, wife,” aid the farmer. “Bill wants a lesson about his, and I must see that he gets it. This is not he first time, nor the second, that he has ill-used hat pony, and I shall stop it. I am much bliged to you, Manly. Good evening.” So he went on, John chuckling all the way ome; then he told James about it, who laughed nd said: “Served him right. I knew that boy at pool ; he took great airs on himself because he fas a farmer’s son. He used to swagger about jpd bully the little boys. Of course we elder (ies would not have any of that nonsense, and t him know that in the school and the play- ground, farmers’ sons and laborers’ sons were i l alike. 72 BLACK BEAUTY “I well remember one day, just before afternoon school, I found him at a 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 mastei 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 showec 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 anj more punishment of that kind, but set him up on a stool for the rest of the afternoon, and saic that he should not go out to play for that week “Then he talked to all the boys very seri ously about cruelty, and said how hard-heartec 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 trademark and if we saw anyone who took pleasure ir cruelty we might know who he belonged to, foi the devil was a murderer from the beginning THE DEVIL'S TRADEMARK 73 ind a tormentor to the end. On the other hand, Vhere we saw people who loved their neighbors, tnd were kind to man and beast, we might know hat was God's mark, for ‘God is Love.' ” “Your master never taught a truer thing,” ‘aid John, “there is no religion without love, md people may talk as much as they like about heir religion, but if it does not teach them to be rood and kind to man and beast it is all a sham — all a sham, James, and it won’t stand when hings come to be turned inside out, and put lown for what they are.” i i Chapter XIV JAMES HOWARD O NE morning early in December John hat just led me into my box after my dail; exercise, and was strapping my clot’! on, and James was coming in from the cor] chamber with some oats, when the master cam into the stable. He looked rather serious, am held an open letter in his hand. John fasten e< the door of my box, touched his cap, and waite< for orders. “Good morning, John,” said the master, “ want to know if you have any complaint to mak of James?” “Complaint, sir? No, sir.” “Is he industrious at his work am respectful to you?” “Yes, sir, always.” “He never slights his work when your bad is turned?” “Never, sir.” “That’s well; but I must put anothe question: have you no reason to suspect, whe: he takes the horses to exercise them* or to tak 74 / JAMES HOWARD 75 i message, that he stops about, talking to his .cquaintances, or goes into houses where he has 10 business, leaving the horses outside?” “No, sir, certainly not; and if anybody has >een saying that about James I don’t believe it, nd I don’t mean to believe it unless I have it airly proved before witnesses. It’s not for me o say who has been trying to take away James’s haracter, but I will say this, sir, that a steadier, ileasanter, honester, smarter young fellow I Lever had in this stable. I can trust his word md I can trust his work. He is gentle and clever frith the horses, and I would rather have them n charge with him than with half the young ellows I know of in laced hats and liveries. Vhoever wants a character of James Howard,” aid John, with a decided jerk of his head, “let iim come to John Manly.” The master stood all this time grave and ttentive, but as John finished his speech a road smile spread over his face, and looking :indly at James, who all this time stood still at he door, he said: “James, my lad, set down the oats and come ere. I am very glad to find that John’s opinion f your character agrees so exactly with my wn. John is a cautious man,” he said, with a roll smile, “and it is not always easy to get his 76 BLACK BEAUTY opinion about people, so I thought if I beat tl bush on this side the birds would fly out, and should learn what I wanted to know. So no - we will come to business. “I have a letter from my brother-in-la\ Sir Clifford Williams. He wants me to find hii a trustworthy young groom, about twenty, wh knows his business. His old coachman, who ha lived with him thirty years, is getting feebL and he wants a man to work with him and g( into his ways who would be able, when the ol man is pensioned off, to step into his place. H would have eighteen shillings a week at first, stable suit, a driving suit, a bedroom over th coachhouse, and a boy under him. Sir Cliffor is a good master, and if you could get the plac it would be a good start for you. I don’t war to part with you, and if you left us I know Joh would lose his right hand.” “That I should, sir,” said John, “but I woul not stand in his light for the world.” “How old are you, James?” said his mastei “Nineteen next May, sir.” “That’s young; what do you think, John? “Well, sir, it is young; but he is as stead as a man, and is strong and well grown, an though he has not had much experience i: driving, has a light, firm hand and a quick ey* JAMES HOWARD 77 ind he is very careful. I am quite sure no horse if his will be ruined for want of having his feet md shoes looked after.” “Your word will go the furthest, John,” said lie master, “for Sir Clifford adds in a postscript, ‘:f I could find a man trained by your John, I nould like him better than any other.’ So e ames, lad, think it over, talk to your mother at (inner time, and then let me know what you fish.” In a few days after this conversation, it was illy settled that James should go to Clifford tail in a month or six weeks, as it suited his master, and in the meantime he was to get all he practice in driving that could be given to him. ] never knew the carriage to go out so often More. When the mistress did not go out the raster drove himself in the two-wheeled chaise; lot now, whether it was master or the young Mies, or only an errand, Ginger and I were put I the carriage and James drove us. At first ti)hn rode with him on the box, telling him this aid that, and after that James drove alone. Then it was wonderful what a number of races the master would go to in the city on hturday, and what queer streets we were eiven through. He was sure to go to the rail- way station just as the train was coming in, and 78 BLACK BEAUTY cabs and carriages, carts and omnibuses, wei all trying to get over the bridge together. Ths. bridge needed good horses and good drive: when the railway bell was ringing, for it wa narrow, and there was a very sharp turn up 1 the station, where it would not have been at a difficult for people to run into each other, if the did not look sharp and keep their wits aboi them. Chapter XV THE OLD HOSTLER ; A FTER this it was decided by my master and ii JL mistress to pay a visit to some friends who lived about forty-six miles from our home, ad James was to drive them. The first day we taveled thirty-two miles. There were some lng, heavy hills, but James drove so carefully ad thoughtfully that we were not at all hrassed. He never forgot to put on the brake si we went downhill, nor to take it off at fie right place. He kept our feet on the moothest part of the road, and if the uphill was \)ry long, he set the carriage wheels a little £:ross the road, so as not to run back, and gave i> a breathing. All these little things help a brse very much, particularly if he gets kind vords into the bargain. We stopped once or twice on the road, and j st as the sun was going down we reached the twn where we were to spend the night. We sopped at the principal hotel, which was in the rarket place. It was a very large one. We c ove under an archway into a long yard, at the 80 BLACK BEAUTY farther end of which were the stables and coac.. houses. Two hostlers came to take us out. The head hostler was a pleasant, acthi little man, with a crooked leg and a yello* striped waistcoat. I never saw a man unbuck! harness so quickly as he did, and with a pat ar. a good word he led me to a long stable, with s:: or eight stalls in it and two or three horses. TM other man brought Ginger. James stood t while we were rubbed down and cleaned. I never was cleaned so lightly and quick as by that old man. When he had done, Jam* stepped up and felt me over, as if he thought could not be thoroughly done, but he found rr coat as clean and smooth as silk. “Well,” he said, “I thought I was prett quick, and our John quicker still, but you c beat all 1 ever saw for being quick and thoroug at the same time.” “Practice makes perfect,” said the crooke little hostler, “and ’twould be a pity if it didn’ Forty years’ practice, and not perfect! ha, hs that would be a pity; and, as to being quick, wh; bless you! that is only a matter of habit. If yo get into the habit of being quick, it is just £ easy as being slow; easier, I should say; in fac it don’t agree with my health to be hulkin about over a job twice as long as it need tak< less you! I couldn’t whistle if I crawled over ry work as some folks do! “You see, I have been about horses ever isnce I was twelve years old, in hunting stables ad racing stables; and being small, ye see, I ivas jockey for several years. But at the Good- wood, ye see, the turf was very slippery and my [por Larkspur got a fall, and I broke my knee, sad so, of course, I was of no more use there. Eit I could not live without horses, of course I Muldn’t, so I took to the hotels. And I can tell it is a downright pleasure to handle an animal like this, well-bred, well-mannered, well-cared Ir; bless ye! I can tell how a horse is treated. Cve me the handling of a horse for twenty ninutes, and I’ll tell you what sort of groom h has had. J j “Look at this one, pleasant, quiet, turns a>out just as you want him, holds up his feet to m cleaned out, or anything else you please to ivfsh. Then you’ll find another fidgety, fretty, fen’t move the right way, or starts across the sail, tosses up his head as soon as you come near hm, lays his ears, and seems afraid of you, or e se squares about at you with his heels, j j “Poor things! I know what sort of treat- ment they have had. If they are timid, it makes item start or shy; if they are high-mettled, it 82 BLACK BEAUTY makes them vicious or dangerous; their tempe are mostly made when they are young. Ble you! they are like children; train ’em up in tl way they should go, as the Good Book says, ai when they are old they will not depart from : if they have a chance, that is.” “X like to hear you talk,” said James, “that, the way we lay it down at home, at our master’s “Who is your master, young man? if it 1 a proper question. I judge he is a good one fro what I see.” “He is Squire Gordon, of Birtwick Park, tl- other side the Beacon hills,” said James. “Ah! so, so; I have heard tell of him; fin judge of horses, isn’t he? — the best rider in tl country?” “I believe he is,” said James, “but he rid very little now, since the poor young master w; killed.” “Ah! poor gentleman; I read all about: in the paper at the time; a fine horse killed, to wasn’t there?” “Yes,” said James, “he was a splend creature, brother to this one, and just like him “Pity! pity!” said the old man, “’twas. bad place to leap, if I remember; a thin fen" at top, a steep bank down to the stream, wasr: it? no chance for a horse to see where he THE OLD HOSTLER 83 ping. Now, I am for bold riding as much as ay man, but still there are some leaps that only a very knowing old huntsman has any right to tke. A man’s life and a horse’s life are worth rore than a fox’s tail; at least I should say they eight to be.” During this time the other man had finished (inger and had brought our corn, and James aid the old man left the stable together. Chapter XVI THE FIRE L ATER on in the evening a traveler’s hor: y was brought in by the second hostler, ar while he was cleaning him a young ms with a pipe in his mouth lounged into the stab to gossip. “I say, Towler,” said the hostler, “just m up the ladder into the loft and put some ha down into this horse’s rack, will you? only, la down your pipe.” “All right,” said the other, and went v through the trapdoor, and I heard him sto across the floor overhead and put down the ha, James came in to look at us the last thing, ail then the door was locked. I cannot say how long I had slept, nor wh; time in the night it was, but I woke up ve: ; uncomfortable, though I hardly knew why. I got up; the air seemed all thick and choking. ( heard Ginger coughing, and one of the oth: horses seemed very restless. It was quite dar, and I could see nothing, but the stable seeml full of smoke, and I could hardly breathe. 84 THE FIRE 85 The trapdoor had been left open, and I t ought it was the place it came through. I litened, and heard a soft, rushing sort of noise, aid a low crackling and snapping. I did not kiow what it was, but there was something in tje sound so strange that it made me tremble M over. The other horses were now all awake; sjme were pulling at their halters, others were samping. At last I heard steps outside, and the hostler wio had put up the traveler’s horse burst into tie stable with a lantern, and began to untie the torses and try to lead them out; but he seemed ii such a hurry and so frightened himself that bji frightened me still more. The first horse would not go with him; he tried the second and ilrd, and they, too, would not stir. He came to •oe next and tried to drag me out of the stall by fir ce; of course that was no use. He tried us all 6 turns, and then left the stable. ! No doubt we were very foolish, but danger seined to be all round, and there was nobody we * ew to trust in, and all was strange and uncer- Mn. The fresh air that had come in through open door made it easier to breathe, but the jfihing sound overhead grew louder, and as I .C)ked upward, through the bars of my empty rfck, I saw a red light flickering on the wall. ? 86 BLACK BEAUTY Then I heard a cry of “Fire!” outside, and t; old hostler quietly and quickly came in. He g\ one horse out, and went to another, but t= flames were playing* round the trapdoor, a: 3 the roaring overhead was dreadful. The next thing I heard was James’s voi<, quiet and cheery. “Come, my beauties, it is time for us to = off, so wake up and come along.” I stood new- est the door, so he came to me first, patting r: as he came in. “Come, Beauty, on with your bridle, r, boy; we will soon be out of this smother.” It was on in no time. Then he took t: scarf off his neck and tied it lightly over r, eyes, and patting and coaxing, he led me out I the stable. Safe in the yard, he slipped the seal off' my eyes and shouted, “Here, somebody! tal this horse while I go back for the other.” A tall, broad man took me, and Jam; darted back in the stable. I set up a shrl whinny as I saw him go. Ginger told me a f to- wards, that whinny was the best thing I cou3 have done for her, for had she not heard r; outside she would never have had the coura.i to come out. There was much confusion in the yard wh ; the horses were being got out of other stable, THE FIRE 87 jhd the carriages and gigs were being pulled (lit of houses and sheds, lest the flames should Dread farther. On the other side of the yard vindows were thrown up, and the people were aouting all sorts of things, but I kept my eye fced on the stable door, where the smoke poured at thick, and I could see flashes of red light. I heard above all the stir and din a lua, clear voice, which I knew was master’s: “James Howard! James Howard! Are yu there?” There was no answer, but I heard a crash c something falling in the stable, and the next roment I gave a loud, joyful neigh, for I saw Junes coming through the smoke leading Gin- g>r with him; she was coughing violently, and h was not able to speak. “My brave lad!” said master, laying his hnd on his shoulder, “are you hurt?” James 3.00k his head, for he could not yet speak. “Ay,” said the big man who held me, “he ha brave lad, and no mistake.” “And now,” said master, “when you have gt your breath, James, we’ll get out of this p ice as quickly as we can.” We were, moving toward the entry, when fim the market place there came a sound of glloping feet and loud, rumbling wheels. 88 BLACK BEAUTY “ ’Tis the fire engine! the fire engine! shouted two or three voices, “stand back, mat way!” and clattering and thundering over tl stones two horses dashed into the yard with tl heavy engine behind them. The firemen leapt to the ground; there was no need to ask whe] the fire was — it was rolling up in a great bla: from the roof. We got out as fast as we could into tl broad, quiet market place; the stars were shii ing, and, except the noise behind us, all w* still. Master led the way to a large hotel on tl other side, and as soon as the hostler came 1 said: “James, I must now hasten to your mi tress; I trust the horses entirely to you; ord< whatever you think is needed,” and with th; he was gone. The master did not run, but never saw mortal man walk so fast as he did th; night. There was a dreadful sound before we g into our stalls. The shrieks of those poor hors; left burning in the stable. It was very terribl. and made Ginger and me feel very badly. were taken in and well done by. The next morning the master came to s 1 how we were and to speak to James. I did n: hear much, for the hostler was rubbing me dow, THE FIRE 89 1 1 could see that James looked very happy, d I thought the master was proud of him. Our distress had been so much alarmed in the night nat the journey was put off till the afternoon, 0 James had the morning on hand, and went fest to the inn to see about our harness and the carriage, and then to hear more about the fire. Yhen he came back, we heard him tell the stler about it. At first no one could guess how the fire had en caused, but at last a man said he saw Dick wler go into the stable with a pipe in his routh, and when he came out he did not have cie, and went to the tap for another. Then the nder hostler said he had asked Dick to go up tie ladder to put down some hay, but told him u lay down his pipe first. Dick denied taking t e pipe with him, but no one believed him. I rmember our John Manly’s rule, never to allow a pipe in the stable, and thought it ought to be te rule everywhere. i James said the roof and floor had all fallen ii, and that only the black walls were standing, fce two poor horses that could not be got out wire buried under the burned rafters and tiles. Chapter XVII JOHN MANLY’S TALK T HE rest of our journey was very easy, ar. a little after sunset we reached the hous of my master’s friend. We were take into a clean, snug stable; there was a kir coachman, who made us comfortable, and wl seemed to think a good deal of James when 1 heard about the fire. “There is one thing quite clear, your man,” he said, “your horses know whom the can trust. It is one of the hardest things in tl world to get horses out of a stable when the: is either a fire or a flood. I don’t know why the won’t come out, but they won’t — not one i twenty.” We stopped two or three days at this plae and then returned home. All went well on tl journey; we were glad to be in our own stab again, and John was equally glad to see us. Before he and James left us for the nigl James said, “I wonder who is coming in rr place.” “Little Joe Green at the Lodge,” said Joh: 90 JOHN MANLY’S TALK 91 “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 wili- ng, and kind-hearted, too. He wishes very nuch to come, and his father would like it; and Iknow the master would like to give him the ciance. He said if I thought he would not do, h would look out for a bigger boy; but I said Iwas quite agreeable to try him for six weeks.” “Six weeks?” said James, “why, it will be sx months before he can be of much use! It mil make you a deal of work, John.” “Well,” said John, with a laugh, “work and Iare very good friends; I never was afraid of Vork yet.” “You are a very good man,” said James; ?! wish I may ever be like you.” “I don’t often speak of myself,” said John, “)ut as you are going away from us out into the vbrld, to shift for yourself, I’ll just tell you how Ilook on these things. I was just as old as Jiseph when my father and mother died of the f ver, within ten days of each other, and left me aid my crippled sister Nelly alone in the world, v thout a relation that we could look to for help. “I was a farmer’s boy, not earning enough t keep myself, much less both of us, and she 92 BLACK BEAUTY must have gone to the workhouse but for ou mistress (Nelly calls her her angel, and she ha good right to do so). The mistress went an hired a room for her with old Widow Mallet, an she gave her knitting and needlework when sh was able to do it. When she was ill she sent he dinners and many nice, comfortable things, an was like a mother to her. “Then the master took me into the stab! under old Norman, the coachman that was, thei I had my food at the house and my bed in th loft, and a suit of clothes, and three shillings week, so that I could help Nelly. Norman migt have turned round and said that at his age h could not be troubled with a raw boy from th plow-tail, but he was like a father to me, an took no end of pains with me. When the ol man died some years after, I stepped into hi place, and now of course I have top wages, an can lay by for a rainy day or a sunny day, as i may happen, and Nelly is as happy as a bird. “So you see, James, I am not the man tha should turn up his nose at a little boy, and ve a good, kind master. No, no! I shall miss yo very much, James, but we shall pull througl There’s nothing like doing a kindness when ’ti put in your way, and I am glad I can do it.” “Then,” said James, “you don’t hold wit JOHN MANLY’S TALK 93 hat saying, ‘Everybody look after himself, and ake care of number one/ ” “No, indeed,” said John. “Where should Jelly and I have been if master and mistress and ttd Norman had only taken care of number one? Vhy, she in the workhouse, and I hoeing tur- ips! W T here would Black Beauty and Ginger ave been if you had only thought of number me? Why, roasted to death! No, Jim, no! that 5 a selfish, heathenish saying, whoever uses it. my man who thinks he has nothing to do but ake care of number one, why, it’s a pity but fhat he had been drowned like a puppy or kitten More he got his eyes open — that’s what I pink,” said John, with a very decided jerk of j is head. James laughed at this; but there was a iiickness in his voice when he said, “You have Seen my best friend except my mother; I hope jbu won’t forget me.” “No, lad, no!” said John, “and if ever I can p you a good turn, I hope you won’t forget me.” The next day Joe came to the stables to ljarn all he could before James left. He learned tj> sweep the stable, to bring in the straw and lily. He began to clean the harness, and helped t wash the carriage. As he was quite too short t do anything in the way of grooming Ginger 94 BLACK BEAUTY and me, James taught him upon Merrylegs, fo: he was to have full charge of him, under John He was a nice, bright little fellow, and alway; came whistling to his work. Merrylegs was a good deal put out at beini “mauled about,” as he said, “by a boy who knev nothing”; but toward the end of the second wee! he told me confidentially that he thought the bo; would turn out well. At last the day came when James had t leave us; cheerful as he always was, he looket quite downhearted that morning. “You see,” he said to John, “I am leaving a great deal behind; my mother, and Betsy, an< you, and a good master and mistress, and the: the horses, and my old Merrylegs. At the ne^ place there will not be a soul that I shall knov If it were not that I shall get a higher place, am be able to help my mother better, I don’t think should have made up my mind to it. It is a rea pinch, John.” “Ay, James, lad, so it is; but I should no think much of you if you could leave your horn for the first time and not feel it. Cheer up, you’] make friends there, and if you get on well, as am sure you will, it will be a fine thing for you mother, and she will be proud enough that yo' have got such a good place as that.” JOHN MANLY’S TALK 95 So John cheered him up, but everyone was orry to lose James. As for Merrylegs, he pined fter him for several days, and went quite off 'is appetite. So John took him out several jiornings with a leading rein, when he exercised :.ie, and, trotting and galloping by my side, got •p the little fellow’s spirits, and he was soon all ight. Joe’s father would often come in and give a jjttle help, as he understood the work, and Joe iok a great deal of pains to learn, and John was mite encouraged about him. * : I I ; ] " i Chapter XVIII GOING FOR THE DOCTOR O NE night, a few days after James had left I had eaten my hay and was lying dow: in my straw fast asleep, when I was sud denly roused by the stable bell ringing ver loudly. I heard the door of John’s house oper and his feet running up to the Hall. He wa back again in no time; he unlocked the stabl door, and came in, calling out, “Wake u{ Beauty! you must go well now, if ever you did” and almost before I could think he had got th saddle on my back and the bridle on my heac He just ran around for his coat, and then too: me at a quick trot up to the Hall door. Th Squire stood there, with a lamp in his hand. “Now, John,” he said, “ride for your life— that is, for your mistress’s life; there is not ; moment to lose. Give this note to Dr. White give your horse a rest at the inn, and be back a soon as you can.” John said, “Yes, sir,” and was on my bac' 1 in a minute. The gardener who lived at th lodge had heard the bell ring, and was read 96 GOING FOR THE DOCTOR 97 flth the gate open, and away we went through tie park, and through the village, and down the till till we came to the tollgate. John called tery loud and thumped upon the door; the man \as soon out and flung open the gate. “Now,” said John, “do you keep the gate oen for the doctor; here’s the money,” and off \e went again. There was before us a long piece of level r?ad by the riverside. John said to me, “Now, leauty, do your best,” and I did. I wanted no yhip nor spur, and for two miles I galloped as fist as I could lay my feet to the ground. I don’t tkieve that my old grandfather, who won the nee at Newmarket, could have gone faster. Vhen we came to the bridge, John pulled re up a little and patted my neck. “Well one, Beauty! good old fellow,” he said. He vpuld have let me go slower, but my spirit was d, and I was off again as fast as before. The air was frosty, the moon was bright; f was very pleasant. We came through a vil- lage, then through a dark wood, then uphill, ten downhill, till after an eight miles’ run we cme to the town, through the streets and into tie market place. It was all quite still except tije clatter of my feet on the stones — everybody yis asleep. The church clock struck three as 98 BLACK BEAUTY we drew up at Dr. White’s door. John rang tl bell twice, and then knocked at the door lil thunder. A window was thrown up, and D White put his head out and said, “What do yc want?” “Mrs. Gordon is very ill, sir; master wan you to come at once; he thinks she will die if yc cannot get there. Here is a note.” “Wait,” he said, “I will come.” He shut the window and was soon at tl door. “The worst of it is,” he said, “my horse h; been out all day and is quite done up ; my son hi just taken the other. What is to be done? Ca I have your horse?” “He has come at a gallop nearly all the wa; sir, and I was to give him a rest here; but I thin my master would not be against it, if you thin fit, sir.” “All right,” he said, “I will soon be ready John stood by me and stroked my neck; was very hot. The doctor came out with h riding whip. “You need not take that, sir,” said Joh “Black Beauty will go till he drops. Take cai of him, sir, if you can; I should not like any har to come to him.” “No, no, John,” said the doctor, “I hop GOING FOR THE DOCTOR 99 lot,” and in a minute we had left John far tehind. I will not tell about our way back. The doc- hr was a heavier man than John, and not so pod a rider; however, I did my very best. The ran at the tollgate had it open. When we came t» the hill, the doctor drew me up. “Now, my pod fellow,” he said, “take some breath.” I was glad he did, for I was nearly spent, bit that breathing helped me on, and soon we v'ere in the park. Joe was at the lodge gate; ny master was at the Hall door, for he had t ard us coming. He spoke not a word; the ctor went into the house with him, and Joe led he to the stable. I was glad to get home; my legs shook under me, and I could only stand and pant. I hd not a dry hair on my body, the water ran dwn my legs, and I steamed all over — Joe used t< say, like a pot on the fire. Poor Joe! he was yung and small, and as yet he knew very little, a d his father, who would have helped him, had ben sent to the next village; but I am sure he il the very best he knew. , He rubbed my legs and my chest, but he did fit put my warm cloth on me; he thought I was sc hot I should not like it. Then he gave me a pulful of water to drink; it was cold and very 100 BLACK BEAUTY good, and I drank it all. Then he gave me son hay and some corn, and, thinking he had dor right, he went away. Soon I began to shake ar. tremble, and turned deadly cold; my legs ache my loins ached, and my chest ached, and I fe sore all over. Oh! how I wished for my warr thick cloth as I stood and trembled. I wishe for John, but he had eight miles to walk, so lay down in my straw and tried to go to sleep. After a long while I heard him at the doo I gave a low moan, for I was in great pain. I was at my side in a moment, stooping down 1 me. I could not tell him how I felt, but 1 seemed to know it all. He covered me up wii j two or three warm cloths, and then ran to tl house for some hot water. He made me son warm gruel, which I drank, and then I think' went to sleep. John seemed to be very much put out. . heard him say to himself over and over agai, “Stupid boy! stupid boy! no cloth put on, and. dare say the water was cold, too; boys are v good”; but Joe was a good boy, after all. I was now very ill; a strong inflammatia had attacked my lungs, and I could not draw n' breath without pain. John nursed me nig. and day; he would get up two or three times i the night. My master, too, often came to see n. GOING FOR THE DOCTOR 101 “My poor Beauty,” he said one day, “my pod horse, you saved your mistress’s life, leauty; yes, you saved her life.” I was very glad to hear that, for it seems tie doctor had said if we had been a little later 1 would have been too late. John told my mas- ter he never saw a horse go so fast in his life. I seemed as if the horse knew what was the ratter. Of course I did, though John thought nt; at least I knew as much as this — that John aid I must go at the top of our speed, and that i'was for the sake of the mistress. Chapter XIX ONLY IGNORANCE I DO not know how long I was ill. Mr. Bon the horse doctor, came every day. One de he bled me; John held a pail for the blood. ’ felt very faint after it, and thought I should di and I believe they all thought so, too. Ginger and Merrylegs had been moved in> the other stables, so that I might be quiet, fe the fever had made me very quick of hearin. Any little noise seemed quite loud, and I coul tell everyone’s footstep going to and from th house. I knew all that was going on. One nigL John had to give me a draft; Thomas Gree came in to help him. After I had taken it arl John had made me as comfortable as he coul, he said he should stay half an hour to see ho y the medicine settled. Thomas said he woul stay with him, so they went and sat down on i bench that had been brought into Merryleg’ stall, and put down the lantern at their feet, th;i: I might not be disturbed with the light. For a while both men sat silent, and the Tom Green said in a low voice : 102 ONLY IGNORANCE 103 “I wish, John, you’d say a bit of a kind word o Joe. The boy is quite broken-hearted; he an’t eat his meals, and he can’t smile. He says e knows it was all his fault, though he is sure e did the best he knew, and he says, if Beauty ies, no one will ever speak to him again. It bes to my heart to hear him. I think you might five him just a word; he is not a bad boy.” After a short pause, John said slowly, ‘ ‘You lust not be too hard upon me, Tom. I know e meant no harm; I never said he did; I know e is not a bad boy. But you see I am sore lyself. That horse is the pride of my heart, to ; ay nothing of his being such a favorite with the raster and mistress; and to think that his life lay be flung away in this manner is more than can bear. But if you think I am hard on the oy, I will try to give him a good word tomorrow -that is, if Beauty is better.” “Well, John, thank you. I knew you did ot wish to be too hard, and I am glad you see was only ignorance.” John’s voice almost startled me as he an- wered, “Only ignorance! only ignorance! how an you talk about only ignorance? Don’t you 'now that it is the worst thing in the world, :'ext to wickedness? And which does the most ;rischief Heaven only knows. If people can say, i 104 BLACK BEAUTY ‘Oh! I did not know, I did not mean any harir they think it is all right. I suppose Martha Mu wash did not mean to kill that baby when st dosed it with soothing sirup; but she did kill i and she was tried for manslaughter/’ “And served her right, too,” said Tom. “ woman should not undertake to nurse a tendt little child without knowing what is good an what is bad for it.” “Bill Starkey,” continued John, “did n< mean to frighten his brother into fits when l dressed up like a ghost and ran after him in tl moonlight; but he did; and that bright, han( some little fellow, that might have been tt pride of any mother’s heart, is just no bett* than an idiot, and never will be, if he lives to l eighty years old. You were a good deal cut u yourself, Tom, two weeks ago, when those youn ladies left your hothouse door open, with a frost east wind blowing right in; you said it killed good many of your plants.” “A good many!” said Tom, “there was n< one of the tender cuttings that was not nippe off. I shall have to strike all over again, and tb worst of it is that I don’t know where to g< fresh ones. I was nearly mad when I came i and saw what was done.” ONLY IGNORANCE 105 “And yet,” said John, “I am sure the young lidies did not mean it; it was only ignorance.” I heard no more of this conversation, for he medicine sent me to sleep, and in the morn- iig I felt much better. I often thought of John's mrds when I came to know more of the world. \ The carter was shouting and flogging the horses unmercifully Chapter XX JOE GREEN *'0E GREEN went on very well. He learned quickly, and was so attentive and careful * that John began to trust him in many things ; lut, as I have said, he was small for his age, and i was seldom that he was allowed to exercise (ither Ginger or me. But it so happened one norning that John was out with Justice in the ltggage cart, and the master wanted a note to b taken immediately to a gentleman’s house, bout three miles distant, and sent his orders for be to saddle me and take it; adding the caution hat he was to ride steadily. The note was delivered, and we were quietly nturning when we came to the brickfield. Here ie saw a cart heavily laden with bricks. The \heels had stuck fast in the stiff mud of £>me deep ruts, and the carter was shouting nd flogging the two horses unmercifully. Joe piled up. It was a sad sight. There were the wo horses straining and struggling with all heir might to drag the cart out, but they could nt move it; the sweat streamed from their legs 108 BLACK BEAUTY and flanks, their sides heaved, and every muscl was strained, while the man, fiercely pulling g the head of the fore horse, swore and lashe most brutally. “Hold hard!” said Joe, “don’t go on flog ging the horses like that. The wheels are s stuck that they cannot move the cart.” The ma took no heed, but went on lashing. “Stop! pray stop!” said Joe. “I’ll help yo lighten the cart; they can’t move it now.” “Mind your own business, you impuder young rascal, and I’ll mind mine!” The ma was in a towering passion and the worse fo drink, and laid on the whip again. Joe turne my head, and the next moment we were goin. at a round gallop toward the house of the mas ter brickmaker. I cannot say if John would hav approved of our pace, but Joe and I were bot of one mind, and so angry that we could not hav gone slower. The house stood close by the roadside. Jo knocked at the door, and shouted, “Halloo! I Mr. Clay at home?” The door was opened, an Mr. Clay himself came out. “Halloo, young man! You seem in a hurry any orders from the Squire this morning?” “No, Mr. Clay, but there’s a fellow in yon brickyard flogging two horses to death. I tol JOE GREEN 109 jiim to stop, and he wouldn’t. I said I’d help him i;o lighten the cart, and he wouldn’t; so I have pome to tell you. Pray, sir, go.” Joe’s voice ;hook with excitement. “Thank ye, my lad,” said the man, running n for his hat, then pausing. “Will you give evidence of what you saw if I bring the fellow ip before a magistrate?” “That I will,” said Joe, “and glad, too.” The man was gone, and we were on our way tome at a smart trot. “Why, what’s the matter with you, Joe? fou look angry all over,” said John, as the boy lung himself from the saddle. “I am angry all over, I can tell you,” said he boy, and then in hurried, excited words he old all that had happened. Joe was usually uch a quiet, gentle little fellow that it was won- jlerful to see him so roused. “Right, Joe! you did right, my boy, whether he fellow gets a summons or not. Many folks jlrould have ridden by and said ’twas not their business to interfere. Now, I say that with ruelty and oppression it is everybody’s business o interfere when they see it; you did right, my >oy.” Joe was quite calm by this time, and proud hat John approved of him, and he cleaned out 110 BLACK BEAUTY my feet, and rubbed me down with a firmer han( than usual. They were just going home to dinner whei the footman came down to the stable to say tha Joe was wanted directly in the master’s private room; there was a man brought up for ill-usinj horses, and Joe’s evidence was wanted. The boy flushed up to his forehead, and hi; 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 hi: jacket, and was off in a moment. Our master being one of the country mag istrates, cases were often brought to him t( settle, or say what should be done. In the stabl< we heard no more for some time, as it was tht men’s dinner hour, but when Joe came next intc the stable I saw he was in high spirits; he gav( me a good-natured slap, and said, “We won’' see such things done, will we, old fellow?” We heard afterwards that he had given hi: evidence so clearly, and the horses were ir such an exhausted state, bearing marks of sue! brutal usage, that the carter was committed t( take his trial, and might possibly be sentencec to two or three months in prison. It was wonderful what a change had corm over Joe. John laughed, and said he had growr JOE GREEN 111 m inch taller in that week, and I believe he lad. He was just as kind and gentle as before, mt there was more purpose and determination n all that he did — as if he had jumped at once rom a boy into a man. I Chapter XXI THE PARTING I HAD now lived in this happy place thre years, but sad changes were about to com over us. We heard from time to time tha our mistress was ill. The doctor was often a the house and the master looked grave an anxious. Then we heard that she must leav her home at once, and go to a warm country fo two or three years. The news fell upon th household like the tolling of a death bell. Every body was sorry; but the master began to mak arrangements for breaking up his establish ment and leaving England. We used to hea it talked about in our stable; indeed, nothin* else was talked about. John went about his work, silent and sad and Joe scarcely whistled. There was a grea deal of coming and going. Ginger and I hat full work. The first of the party who went were Mis Jessie and Flora with their governess. The; came to bid us good-by. They hugged poo: Merrylegs like an old friend, and so indeed h< was. Then we heard what had been arrange* 112 THE PARTING 113 Dr us. Master had sold Ginger and me to his to our heads to hide his tears. Very soon the tain came puffing up into the station ; then two o three minutes and the doors were slammed U the guard whistled, and the train glided a>ay, leaving behind it only clouds of white saoke and some very heavy hearts. 110 BLACK BEAUTY When it was quite out of sight, John cam back. “We shall never see her again,” he said- “never.” He took the reins, mounted the bo> and with Joe drove slowly home; but it was nc our home now. ( PART 11 ■ Chapter XXII EARLSHALL PI^HE next morning after breakfast, Joe put L Merrylegs into the mistress’s low chaise to take him to the vicarage. He came first aid said good-by to us, and Merrylegs neighed t us from the yard. Then John put the saddle oi Ginger and the leading rein on me, and rode u; across the country about fifteen miles to Iirlshall Park, where the Earl of W lived. "here was a very fine house and a great deal o stabling. We went into the yard through a stone giteway, and John asked for Mr. York. It was sme time before he came. He was a fine- loking, middle-aged man, and his voice said a once that he expected to be obeyed. He ms very friendly and polite to John, and after gvm g us a slight look he called a groom to take u to our boxes, and invited John to take some r freshment. We were taken to a light, airy stable, and piced in boxes adjoining each other, where we mre rubbed down and fed. In about half an 118 BLACK BEAUTY hour John and Mr. York, who was to be our ne? coachman, came in to see us. “Now, Mr. Manly,” he said, after careful? looking at us both, “I can see no fault in the) horses, but we all know that horses have the: peculiarities as well as men, and that sometime they need different treatment. I should like ) know if there is anything particular in eith: of these that you would like to mention.” “Well,” said John, “I don’t believe there ; a better pair of horses in the country, and rig; grieved I am to part with them, but they are n; alike. The black one has the most perfe; temper I ever knew; I suppose he has nev: known a hard word or blow since he was foale, and all his pleasure seems to be to do what yd wish. “The chestnut, I fancy, must have had bd treatment; we heard as much from the deale. She came to us snappish and suspicious, bt when she found what sort of place ours was, t all went off by degrees. For three years I ha'3 never seen the smallest sign of temper, and £ she is well treated there is not a better, mo 3 willing animal than she is. But she has natural.’ a more irritable constitution than the bla«c horse; flies tease her more; anything wrong 1 the harness frets her more, and if she were i* EARLSHALL 119 ised or unfairly treated she would not be Vilikely to give tit for tat. You know that many fgh-mettled horses will do so.” “Of course,” said York, “I quite under- sand; but you know it is not easy in stables ike these to have all the grooms just what they siould be. I do my best, and there I must leave i I’ll remember what you have said about the rare.” They were going out of the stable when John sopped, and said, “I had better mention that vb have never used the checkrein with either c them; the black horse never had one on, and t e dealer said it was the gag bit that spoiled tje other’s temper.” “Well,” said York, “if they come here they mst wear the checkrein. I prefer a loose rein nyself, and his lordship is always very reason- able about horses; but my lady — that’s another ting. She will have style, and if her carriage brses are not reined up tight she wouldn’t look a them. I always stand out against the gag bit, aid shall do so, but it must be tight up when ny lady rides!” “I am sorry for it, very sorry,” said John, Hut I must go now, or I shall lose the train.* ; He came round to each of us to pat and seak to us for the last time; his voice sounded 120 BLACK BEAUTY very sad. I held my face close to him. Th ; was all I could do to say good-by. Then he w;; gone, and I have never seen him since. The next day Lord W came to look ;; us; he seemed pleased with our appearance. “I have great confidence in these horses he said, “from the character my friend M Gordon has given me of them. Of course the are not a match in color, but my idea is that th( will do very well for the carriage while we a] in the country. Before we go to London I mu try to match Baron; the black horse, I believ is perfect for riding. ,, York then told him what John had sa: about us. “Well,” said he, “you must keep an eye t the mare, and put the checkrein easy; I dai say they will do very well with a little humorin; I’ll mention it to your lady.” In the afternoon we were harnessed ar put in the carriage, and as the stable cloc struck three we were led round to the front c the house. It was all very grand, and three c four times as large as the old house at Birtwicl but not half so pleasant, if a horse may have a opinion. Two footmen were standing read; dressed in drab livery, with scarlet breech and white stockings. Presently we heard tl EARLSHALL 121 mstling sound of silk as my lady came down the fight of stone steps. She stepped round to look r us; she was a tall, proud-looking woman, and dd not seem pleased about something, but she slid nothing, and got into the carriage. This was the first time of wearing a check- nin, and I must say, though it certainly was a niisance not to be able to get my head down row and then, it did not pull my head higher man I was accustomed to carry it. I felt anxious spout Ginger, but she seemed quiet and content. The next day at three o’clock we were again i the door, and the footmen as before; we heard me silk dress rustle, and the lady came down the geps, and in an imperious voice she said, “York, pu must put those horses’ heads higher; they re not fit to be seen.” York got down and said, very respectfully, % beg your pardon, my lady, but these horses lave not been reined up for three years, and my lrd said it would be safer to bring them to it w degrees; but if your ladyship pleases, I can ike them up a little more.” “Do so,” she said. York came round to our heads and siortened the rein himself, one hole, I think. Ivery little makes a difference, be it for better c worse, and that day we had a steep hill to go 122 BLACK BEAUTY up. Then I began to understand what I ha heard of. Of course I wanted to put my hes forward and take the carriage up with a wi as we had been used to do; but no, I had to pi with my head up now, and that took all the spir out of me, and the strain came on my bac and legs. When we came in, Ginger said to me, “No you see what it is like; but this is not ba> and if it does not get much worse than this shall say nothing about it, for we are very we treated here; but if they strain me up tight, wh; let 'em look out! I can’t bear it, and I won’t Day by day, hole by hole, our bearing reir were shortened, and instead of looking forwai with pleasure to having my harness put on, £ I used to do, I began to dread it. Ginger, to seemed restless, though she said very little. A last I thought the worst was over. For seven days there was no more shortening, and determined to make the best of it and do ir duty, though it was now a constant harai instead of a pleasure; but the worst was n< yet come. ■ gpi in Chapter XXIII A STRIKE FOR LIBERTY ■ NE day my lady came down later than usual, and the silk rustled more than ever. “Drive to the Duchess of B ’s,” she said. [ien, after a pause : “Are you never going to get t ose horses’ heads up, York? Raise them at cice, and let us have no more of this humoring aid nonsense.” York came to me first, while the groom sood at Ginger’s head. He drew my head back aid 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?ood idea of what was coming, and the moment t)rk took the rein off the terret in order to s orten it she took her opportunity, and reared u» so suddenly that York had his nose roughly ht and his hat knocked off; the groom was narly thrown off his legs. At once they both flew to her head, but she vis a match for them, and went on plunging, r aring, kicking in a most desperate manner; at 123 124 BLACK BEAUTY last she kicked right over the carriage pole am fell down, after giving me a severe blow on m; near quarter. There is no knowing what furthe: mischief she might have done had not Yorl promptly sat himself down flat on her head t prevent her struggling, at the same timi calling out: “Unbuckle the black horse! Run for th< winch and unscrew the carriage pole! Cut th trace here, somebody, if you can't unhitch it!’ One of the footmen ran for the winch, an( another brought a knife from the house. Th< groom soon set me free from Ginger and the car riage, and led me to my box. He just turned m( in as I was, and ran back to York. I was mucl excited by what had happened, and if I had eve: been used to kick or rear I am sure I should haw done it then ; but I never had, and there I stood angry, sore in my leg, my head still strained u* to the terret on the saddle, and no power to gel it down. I was very miserable, and felt mucl inclined to kick the first person who cam* near me. Before long, however, Ginger was led in bj two grooms, a good deal knocked about anc bruised. York came with her and gave his orders, and then came back to look at me. Ir a moment he let down my head. A STRIKE FOR LIBERTY 125 “Confound these checkreins!” he said to Imself. “I thought we should have some mis- od hunter. As for me, I was obliged still to 126 BLACK BEAUTY go in the carriage, and had a fresh partne called Max; he had always been used to th tight rein. I asked him how it was he bore i “Well,” he said, “I bear it because I must but it is shortening my life, and it will shortei yours, too, if you have to stick to it.” “Do you think,” I said, “that our mastei know how bad it is for us?” “I can’t say,” he replied, “but the dealei and the horse doctors know it very well. I wa at a dealer’s once, who was training me an another horse to go as a pair; he was getting or heads up, as he said, a little higher and a littl higher every day. A gentleman asked him wh he did so. ‘Because,’ said he, ‘people won’t bu them unless we do. The London people war their horses to carry their heads high and t step high. Of course it is very bad for th horses, but then it is good for trade. The horse soon wear out, or get diseased, and they con: for another pair.’ That,” said Max, “is whs he said in my hearing, and you can judge fc yourself.” What I suffered with that rein for foi long months in my lady’s carriage would be hai to describe; but I am quite sure that, had lasted much longer, either my health or n: temper would have given way. Before that A STRIKE FOR LIBERTY 127 lever knew what it was to foam at the mouth, ht now the action of the sharp bit on my tongue ad jaw, and the constrained position of my lead and throat, always caused me to froth at tie mouth more or less. Some people think it very fine to see this, Sjid say, “What fine, spirited creatures !” But it i just as unnatural for horses as for men to fam at the mouth; it is a sure sign of some dis~ omfort, and should be attended to. Besides this, here was a pressure on my windpipe, which cten made my breathing very uncomfortable; \hen I returned from my work, my neck and aest were strained and painful, my mouth and tngue tender, and I felt worn and depressed. In my old home I always knew that John aid my master were my friends; but here, a though I was well treated, I had no friend. ^Drk might have known, and likely did know, bw that rein harassed me; but I suppose he took i as a matter of course that could not be helped; a any rate nothing was done to relieve me. | Chapter XXIV THE LADY ANNE, OR A RUNAWAY HORS E ARLY in the spring, Lord W and pai of his family went up to London, and too York with them. Ginger and I and son other horses were left at home for use, and tfc head groom was left in charge. The Lady Harriet, who remained at tfc Hall, was a great invalid, and never went oi in the carriage, and the Lady Anne preferre riding on horseback with her brother or cousin She was a perfect horsewoman, and as gay ar gentle as she was beautiful. She chose me f( her horse, and named me “Black Auster.” 1 enjoyed these rides very much in the clear, co] air, sometimes with Ginger, sometimes wit Lizzie. This Lizzie was a bright bay mar almost thoroughbred, and a great favorite wit the gentlemen, on account of her fine action ar lively spirit; but Ginger, who knew more of In than I did, told me she was rather nervous. There was a gentleman named Blantyi staying at the Hall. He always rode Lizzie, ar. praised her so much that one day Lady Anr ordered the side saddle to be put on her, and tfc 128 THE LADY ANNE 129 cher saddle on me. When we came to the door, tie gentleman seemed very uneasy. “How is this?” he said. “Are you tired of pur good Black Auster?” “Oh, no,” she replied, “but I am amiable plough to let you ride him for once, and I will tjy your charming Lizzie. You must confess hat in size and appearance she is more like a ljdy’s horse than my own favorite.” “Do let me advise you not to mount her,” le said, “she is a charming creature, but she is to nervous for a lady. I assure you, she is not Perfectly safe. Let me beg you to have the addles changed.” “My dear cousin,” said Lady Anne, laugh- i g, “pray do not trouble your good, careful head c)out me. I have been a horsewoman ever since Ivvas a baby, and I have followed the hounds a geat many times, though I know you do not Eiprove of ladies hunting. But I intend to try tis Lizzie that you gentlemen are all so fond c ; so please help me to mount, like a good friend a you are.” There was no more to be said. He placed -hr carefully on the saddle, looked to the bit and c.rb, gave the reins gently into her hand, and ten mounted me. Just as we were moving off, a footman came out with a slip of paper from I I 130 BLACK BEAUTY the Lady Harriet. “Would they ask this questic for her at Dr. Ashley’s, and bring the answer: The village was about a mile off, ar. the doctor’s house was the last in it. We wei along gaily enough till we came to his gat There was a short drive up to the house betwee tall evergreens. Blantyre alighted at the gat and was going to open it for Lady Anne, but sf said, “I will wait for you here, and you can han Auster’s rein on the gate.” He looked at her doubtfully. “I will not 1: five minutes,” he said. “Oh, do not hurry yourself; Lizzie and shall not run away from you.” He hung my rein on one of the iron spike and was soon hidden among the trees. Lizz: was standing quietly a few paces off, with he back to me. My young mistress was sittin easily with a loose rein, humming a little son^ I listened to my rider’s footsteps until the reached the house, and heard him knock at tt door. There was a meadow on the opposite side c the road, the gate of which stood open. Just the some cart horses and several young colts can trotting out in a very disorderly manner, whi a boy behind was cracking a great whip. Tf colts were frolicsome, and one of them bolte THE LADY ANNE 131 jcross the road, and blundered up against nzzie’s hind legs; and whether it was the stupid olt, or the loud cracking of the whip, or both together, I cannot say, but she gave a violent lick, and dashed off into a headlong gallop. It was so sudden that Lady Anne was nearly inseated, but she soon recovered herself. I gave ^loud, shrill neigh for help. Again and again 1 neighed, pawing the ground impatiently, and tossing my head to get the rein loose. I had not lng to wait. Blantyre came running to the mte; he looked anxiously about, and caught sght of the flying figure, not far away on the nad. In an instant he sprang to the saddle. I reeded no whip, no spur, for I was as eager as rjy rider; he saw it, and gave me a free rein, £,id leaning a little forward, he dashed after tern. For about a mile and a half the road ran sraight, and then bent to the right, after which to divided into two roads. Long before we came t the bend she was out of sight. Which way had se turned? A woman was standing at her grden gate, shading her eyes with her hand, a d looking eagerly up the road. Scarcely flawing the rein, Blantyre shouted, “Which viy?” “To the right !” cried the woman, pointing 132 BLACK BEAUTY with her hand, and away we went up the righ hand road. Then for a moment we caught sight of he: another bend and she was hidden again. Sever times we caught glimpses, and then lost ther We scarcely seemed to gain ground upon the: at all. An old road mender was standing near , heap of stones, his shovel dropped and his hand raised. As we came near he made a sign i speak. Blantyre drew the rein a little. “To tb common, to the common, sir; she has turned o there.” I knew this common very well; it was for tl most part very uneven ground, covered wil heather and dark-green furze bushes, with he] and there a scrubby old thorn tree. There we] also open spaces of fine short grass, with an hills and mole turns everywhere; the worst pla< I ever knew for a headlong gallop. We had hardly turned on the common, wht we caught sight again of the green habit flyir on before us. My lady’s hat was gone, and h< long, brown hair was streaming behind her. Hi head and body were thrown back, as if she we: pulling with all her remaining strength. It wj clear that the roughness of the ground had ve: much lessened Lizzie’s speed, and there seenu a chance that we might overtake her. THE LADY ANNE 133 While we were on the highroad, Blantyre d given me my head; but now, with a light ad and a practiced eye, he guided me over the nund in such a masterly manner that my pace ris scarcely slackened, and we were decidedly ining on them. About halfway across the heath there had en a wide dike recently cut, and the earth from hi cutting was cast up roughly on the other he. Surely this would stop them! But no; with dircely a pauze Lizzie took the leap, stumbled nong the rough clods, and fell. Blantyre loaned, “Now, Auster, do your best!” He gave t a steady rein. I gathered myself well to- :cher, and with one determined leap cleared da. dike and bank. Motionless among the heather, with her s:e to the earth, lay my poor young mistress. Untyre kneeled down and called her name; h;re was no sound. Gently he turned her face Ljvard; it was ghastly white, and the eyes were lsed. “Annie, dear Annie, do speak!” But hire was no answer. He unbuttoned her habit, Dsened her collar, felt her hands and wrist, h;n started up and looked wildly round him c help. At no great distance there were two men uting turf, who, seeing Lizzie running wild 10 134 BLACK BEAUTY without a rider, had left their work to catch h. Blantyre’s halloo brought them to the spot. % foremost man seemed much troubled at ie sight, and asked what he could do. “Can ride?” “Well, sir, I bean’t much of a horsem; but I’d risk my neck for Lady Anne; she vis uncommon good to my wife in the winter.” “Then mount this horse, my friend — yor neck will be quite safe — and ride to the dock’s: and ask him to come instantly. Then on to le Hall ; tell them all that you know, and bid thin send me the carriage with Lady Anne’s mic and help. I shall stay here.” “All right, sir, I’ll do my best, and I piiv God the young lady may open her eyes soo. v Then seeing the other man, he called out, “Hee, Joe, run for some water, and tell my missisto come as quick as she can to Lady Anne.” He then somehow scrambled into the sad(e, and with a “Gee up” and a clap on my sides vdd both his legs, he started on his journey, makigl a little circuit to avoid the dike. He had no wlp i which seemed to trouble him; but my pace soul- cured that difficulty, and he found the best th:ig| he could do was to stick to the saddle, and hid. me in, which he did manfully. I shook himas: little as I could help, but once or twice on iei THE LADY ANNE 135 ’agh ground he called out, “Steady! Whoa! Ipady!” On the highroad we were all right, and lithe doctor’s and the Hall he did his errand like i rood man and true. They asked him to take a bp of something. “No, no,” he said, “I’ll be )ick to ’em again by a short cut through the bids, and be there afore the carriage.” There was a deal of hurry and excitement iter the news became known. I was turned into if box; the saddle and bridle were taken off, Lid a cloth thrown over me. Ginger was saddled and sent off in great i&te for Lord George, and I soon heard the triage roll out of the yard. It seemed a long time before Ginger came >j3k and told me all that she had seen. “I can’t tell much,” she said. “We went -rallop nearly all the way, and got there just ithe doctor rode up. There was a woman sit- ing on the ground with the lady’s head in her ,a. The doctor poured something into her nuth, but all that I heard was, ‘She is not kid.’ Then I was led off by a man to a little itance. After a while she was taken to the ariage, and we came home together. I heard master say. to a gentleman who stopped him Inquire, that he hoped no bones were broken, a'; that she had not spoken yet.” 136 BLACK BEAUTY When Lord George took Ginger for huntii' York shook his head. He said it ought to bca steady hand to train a horse for the first seasu, and not a random rider like Lord Georji Ginger used to like it very much, but sometins when she came back I could see that she hti been very much strained, and now and then s.e gave a short cough. She had too much spirit o ; complain, but I could not help feeling anxids about her. Two days after the accident, Blantyre p:d me a visit; he patted me and praised me vey much. He told Lord George that he was sure l.ei horse knew of Annie’s danger as well as he di “X could not have held him in if I would,” said e. “She ought never to ride any other horse.” I found by their conversation that my youg mistress was now out of danger, and word soon be able to ride again. This was good nes to me, and I looked forward to a happy life. Chapter XXV REUBEN SMITH 1 MUST now say a little about Reuben Smith, J who was left in charge of the stables when York went to London. No one more thor- oghly understood his business than he did, aid when he was all right there could not be a dare faithful or valuable man. He was gentle aid very clever in his management of horses, aid could doctor them almost as well as a f rrier, for he had lived two years with a vet- erinary surgeon. He was a first-rate driver; he culd take a four-in-hand or a tandem as easily a a pair. He was a handsome man, a good glholar, and had very pleasant manners. I hlieve everybody liked him; certainly the Erses did. The only wonder was that he should be in a under situation, and not in the place of a head cachman like York; but he had one great fault, a d that was the love of drink. He was not like sme men, always at it; he used to keep steady ft weeks or months together, and then he ttmld break out and have a “bout” of it, as York died it, and be a disgrace to himself, a terror t his wife, and a nuisance to all that had to do 137 138 BLACK BEAUTY with him. He was, however, so useful that to or three times York had hushed the matter ljj But one night, when Reuben had to driv became loose, and when we were near ti turnpike gate it came off. If Smith had been in his right senses 3 would have been sensible of something wrong 1 my pace, but he was too madly drunk to noth anything. Beyond the turnpike was a long piece f road, upon which fresh stones had just been lsl — large, sharp stones, over which no horse coil be driven quickly without risk of danger. Ovr this road, with one shoe gone, I was forced 3 gallop at my utmost speed, my rider meanwhs cutting into me with his whip, and with w:l curses urging me to go still faster. Of course ry shoeless foot suffered dreadfully; the hoof ws broken and split down to the very quick, and te inside was terribly cut by the sharpness of te stones. This could not go on; no horse could kep his footing under such circumstances; the pa: was too great. I stumbled, and fell with violere REUBEN SMITH 141 m both my knees. Smith was flung off by my fall, and, owing to the speed I was going at, he nust have fallen with great force. I soon recov- ered my feet and limped to the side of the road, iyhere it was free from stones. The moon had just risen above the hedge, md by its light I could see Smith lying a few prds beyond me. He did not rise; he made one slight effort to do so, and then there was a heavy rroan. I could have groaned, too, for I was suffering intense pain both from my foot and pees; but horses are used to bear their pain in silence. I uttered no sound, but I stood there and listened. One more heavy groan from Smith; )ut though he now lay in the full moonlight, I ould see no motion. I could do nothing for him ior myself, but oh! how I listened for the sound >f horse, or wheels, or footsteps! The road was lot much frequented, and at this time of the sight we might stay for hours before help came o us. I stood watching and listening. It was a calm, sweet April night; there were io sounds but a few low notes of a nightingale, nd nothing moved but the white clouds near he moon and a brown owl that flitted over the edge. It made me think of the summer nights )ng ago, when I used to lie beside my mother in he green pleasant meadow at Farmer Grey's. I uttered no sound, but just stood there and listened Chapter XXVI HOW IT ENDED FT MUST have been nearly midnight when I £ heard at a great distance the sound of a horse’s feet. Sometimes the sound died away, hen it grew clearer again and nearer. The road o Earlshall led through woods that belonged to he earl; the sound came from that direction, nd I hoped it might be someone coming in earch of us. As the sound came nearer and earer, I was almost sure I could distinguish ringer’s step; a little nearer still, and I could bII she was in the dog cart. I neighed loudly, jind was overjoyed to hear an answering neigh rom Ginger, and men’s voices. They came lowly over the stones, and stopped at the dark gure that lay upon the ground. One of the men jumped out and stooped own over it. “It is Reuben,” he said, “and he oes not stir!” The other man followed, and bent over him. He’s dead,” he said, “feel how cold his hands ;re.” They raised him up, but there was no life, nd his hair was soaked with blood. They laid 143 144 BLACK BEAUTY him down again, and came and looked at me, They soon saw my cut knees. “Why, the horse has been down and thrown him! Who would have thought the black horse would have done that? Nobody thought he could fall. Reuben must have been lying here foi 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. “Halloo! he’s bad in his foot as well as in his knees. Look here — his hoof is cut all tc pieces; he might well come down, poor fellow! I tell you what, Ned, I’m afraid it hasn’t been all right with Reuben. Just think 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. Fin afraid it has been the old thing over again. “Poor Susan ! She looked awfully pale when she came to my house to ask if he had not come home. She made believe she was not a bit anxious, and talked of a lot of things that might have kept him. But for all that she begged me to go and meet him. But what must we do' There’s the horse to get home as well as the body, and that will be no easy matter.” Then followed a conversation between HOW IT ENDED 145 hem, till it was agreed that Robert, the groom, hould lead me, and that Ned must take the body, t was a hard job to get it into the dogcart, for here was no one to hold Ginger; but she knew Is well as I did what was going on, and stood as till as a stone. I noticed that, because, if she iad a fault, it was that she was impatient in tanding. Ned started off very slowly with his sad Dad, and Robert came and looked at my foot gain; then he took his handkerchief and bound p closely round, and so he led me home. I shall ever forget that night walk; it was more than hree miles. Robert led me on very slowly, and limped and hobbled on as well as I could with Teat pain. I am sure he was sorry for me, for e often patted and encouraged me, talking to le in a pleasant voice. At last I reached my own box, and had some orn; and after Robert had wrapped up my nees in wet cloths he tied up my foot in a bran "oultice, to draw out the heat and cleanse it before the horse doctor saw it in the morning. I managed to get myself down on the straw, and I'.ept in spite of the pain. The next day, after the farrier had • cammed my wounds, he said he hoped the joint as not injured; and if so, I should not be spoiled 146 BLACK BEAUTY for work, but I should never lose the blemish, believe they did the best to make a good cure but it was a long and painful one. Proud flesl as they called it, came up in my knees, and wa burned out with caustic; and when at last it wa healed, they put a blistering fluid over the fron of both knees to bring all the hair off. They ha< some reason for this, and I suppose it wa all right. As Smith’s death had been so sudden, an no one was there to see it, there was an inques held. The landlord and hostler at the Whit Lion, with several other people, gave evidenc that he was intoxicated when he started fror the inn. The keeper of the tollgate said he rod at a hard gallop through the gate; and my sho was picked up among the stones, so that th case was quite plain to them, and I was cleare* of all blame. Everybody pitied Susan. She was near! out of her mind; she kept saying over and ove again : “Oh ! he was so good — so good ! It was a' that cursed drink; 0 Reuben, Reuben!” So she went on till after he was buried; an then, as she had no home or relation, she wit' her six little children, was obliged once more t leave the pleasant home by the tall oak trees an go into that great, gloomy Union House. Chapter XXVII RUINED, AND GOING DOWNHILL S SOON as my knees were sufficiently healed I was turned into a small meadow for a month or two; no other creature was ere, and though I enjoyed the liberty and the eet grass, yet I had been so long used to ciety that I felt very lonely. Ginger and I had come fast friends, and now I missed her mpany extremely. I often neighed when I heard horses’ feet ssing in the road, but I seldom got an answer, 1 one morning the gate was opened, and who ould come in but dear old Ginger. The man ipped off her halter and left her there. With joyful whinny I trotted up to her. We were )th glad to meet, but I soon found that it was j)t for our pleasure that she was brought to be vith me. Her story would be too long to tell, but e end of it was that she had been ruined by jird riding, and was now turned off to see what st would do. Lord George was young and would take no irning; he was a hard rider, and would hunt lenever he could get the chance, quite careless 148 BLACK BEAUTY of his horse. Soon after I left the stable thei was a steeplechase, and he determined to rid< Though the groom told him she was a litt] strained, and was not fit for the race, he did nc believe it, and on the day of the race urge Ginger to keep up with the foremost riders. Wit her high spirit, she strained herself to the u most; she came in with the first three horses, bi her wind was touched, besides which he was tc heavy for her, and her back was strained. “And so,” she said, “here we are, ruined i the prime of our youth and strength, you by \ drunkard and I by a fool; it is very hard.” We both felt in ourselves that we were n( what we had been. However, that did not spo the pleasure we had in each other’s compan; We did not gallop around as we once did, but w used to feed and lie down together, and stand fc hours under one of the shady lime trees with oi heads close to each other; and so we passed or time until the family returned from town. One day we saw the earl come into t Y : meadow, and York was with him. Seeing who • was, we stood still under our lime tree, and It them come up to us. They examined us carefull; The earl seemed much annoyed. “There is three hundred pounds flung awa i for no earthly use,” said he, “but what I care fc RUINED 149 tat is that these horses of my old friend, who fought they would find a good home with me, ae ruined. The mare shall have a twelve months’ run, and we shall see what that will do Ifir her; but the black one must be sold. ’Tis a Meat pity, but I could not have knees like these : it my stables.” .1 [ “No, my lord, of course not,” said York, 3 rut he might get a place where appearance is it of much consequence, and still be well Abated. I know a man in Bath, the master of feme livery stables, who often wants a good irse at a low figure; I know he looks well after m horses. The inquest cleared the horse’s char- si ,cer, and your lordship’s recommendation or Marne would be sufficient warrant for him.” it ! \ “You had better write to him, York. I itbbuld be more particular about the place than money he would fetch.” After this they us. “They’ll soon take you away,” said Ginger, ‘1 shall lose the only friend I have, and most ely we shall never see each other again. ’Tis ard world!” ifi i About a week after this Robert came into h field with a halter, which he slipped over my aljtd, and led me away. There was no leave- lea ing of Ginger; we neighed to each other as vtil odi Ginger and I neighed to each other as I was led off by Robei RUINED 151 Iwas led off, and she trotted anxiously along by tie hedge, calling to me as long as she could fear the sound of my feet. Through the recommendation of York I vas bought by the master of the stables. I hid to go by train, which was new to me, and rquired a good deal of courage the first time; bit as I found the puffing, rushing, whistling, aid, more than all, the trembling of the horse bx in which I stood did me no real harm, I soon took it quietly. When I reached the end of my journey I fund myself in a tolerably comfortable stable, a d well attended to. These stables were not 3< airy and pleasant as those I had been used to. Tie stalls were laid on a slope instead of being idrel, and as my head was kept tied to the man- ?r, I was always obliged to stand on the slope, fliich was very fatiguing. Men do not seem to know yet that horses in do more work if they can stand comfortably ill can turn about; however, I was well fed and vll cleaned, and, on the whole, I think our mas- ;e took as much care of us as he could. He kept i rood many horses and carriages of different dds for hire. Sometimes his own men drove 'dim; at others, the horse and chaise were let ^gentlemen or ladies who drove. i Chapter XXVIII A JOB HORSE AND HIS DRIVERS H ITHERTO I had always been driven ]/ people who at least knew how to driv; but in this place I was to get my expe;- ence of all the different kinds of bad and ignl rant driving to which we horses are subjecte; for I was a “job horse,” and was let out to ;1 sorts of people who wished to hire me. Asl was good-tempered, I think I was oftener let ot to the ignorant drivers than some of the othr horses, because I could be depended upon, t would take a long time to tell of all the differet styles in which I was driven, but I will mentii a few of them. First, there were the tight-rein drivers- men who seemed to think that all depended p holding the reins as hard as they could, new relaxing the pull on the horse’s mouth, or g - ing him the least liberty of movement. Thy are always talking about keeping the horse wll in hand, and holding a horse up, just as ifa horse was not made to hold himself up. Some poor, broken-down horses, whce mouths have been made hard and insensible y 152 A JOB HORSE 153 jst such drivers as these, may perhaps find sjme support in it; but for a horse who can dpend upon his own legs, and who has a tender nouth and is easily guided, it is not only tor renting, but it is stupid. Then there are the loose-rein drivers, who lc the reins lie easily on our backs, and their (hinds rest lazily on their knees. Of course such [gentlemen have no control over a horse, if any- thing happens suddenly. If a horse shies, or farts, or stumbles, they are nowhere, and can- nt help the horse or themselves till the mischief kdone. I had no objection to it, as I was not ii the habit of either starting or stumbling, and ■hid only been used to depend on my driver for fcdance and encouragement. Still, one likes %l feel the rein a little in going downhill, and li es to know that one's driver has not gone to Besides, a slovenly way of driving gets a rse into bad and often lazy habits; and when h changes hands he has to be whipped out of tbm with more or less pain and trouble. Squire Grdon always kept us to our best paces and our b |st manners. He said that spoiling a horse and le ting him get into bad habits was just as cruel a! spoiling a child, and both had to suffer for ^afterwards. 154 BLACK BEAUTY Besides, these drivers are often careles altogether, and will attend to anything else mce than their horses. I went out in the phaetn one day with one of them; he had a lady ad two children behind. He flopped the reins abe t as we started, and gave me several unmeant? cuts with the whip, though I was fairly off. There had been a good deal of road mer ■ ing going on, and even where the stones wee not freshly laid down there were a great may loose ones about. My driver was laughing ad joking with the lady and the children, and tal- ing about the country to the right and to te left; but he never thought it worth while to kep an eye on his horse, or to drive on the smooths t parts of the road; and so it happened that 1 gt a stone in one of my forefeet. Now, if Mr. Gordon, or John, or in fact a.y good driver, had been there, he would hae seen that something was wrong before I hi gone three paces. Or even if it had been dar, a practiced hand would have felt by the rei that there was something wrong in the step, ail they would have got down and picked out t'e stone. But this man went on laughing ail talking, while at every step the stone becare more firmly wedged between my shoe and t's frog of my foot. The stone was sharp on ta A JOB HORSE 155 i:side and round on the outside, which, as every- cie knows is the most dangerous kind that a brse can pick up, at the same time cutting his fot, and making him most liable to stumble and fill. Whether the man was partly blind, or only vry careless, I can’t say; but he drove me with tat stone in my foot for a good half mile before h saw anything. By that time I was going so line with the pain that at last he saw it, and died out, “Well, here’s a go! Why, they have snt us out with a lame horse! What a shame!” He then chucked the reins and flipped about dth the whip, saying, “Now, then, it’s no use paying the old soldier with me; there’s the jour- njy to go, and it’s no use turning lame and lazy.” Just at this time a farmer came riding up 0 a brown cob; he lifted his hat and pulled up. “I beg your pardon, sir,” he said, “but 1 hink there is something the matter with your hrse; he goes very much as if he had a stone ir his shoe. If you will allow me, I will look at hi; feet; these loose scattered stones are con- fanded dangerous things for the horses.” “He’s a hired horse,” said my driver. “I dm’t know what’s the matter with him, but it is a great shame to send out a lame beast like tls.” I 156 BLACK BEAUTY The farmer dismounted, and took up ir near foot. “Bless me, there’s a stone! Lam I should think so!” At first he tried to dislodge it with his han< but as it was now very tightly wedged, he dre’ a stone pick out of his pocket, and very car fully, and with some trouble, got it out. The holding it up, he said, “There, that’s the stor your horse had picked up; it is a wonder 1 did not fall down and break his knees into tl bargain!” “Well, to be sure!” said my driver, “th; is a queer thing! I never knew that horse picked up stones before.” “Didn’t you?” said the farmer rather coi temptuously, “but they do, though, and the be of them will do it, and can’t help it sometim( on such roads as these. And if you don’t wai to lame your horse you must look sharp ar. get them out quickly. This foot is very muc bruised,” he said, setting it gently down ar patting me. “You had better drive him gent' for a while; the foot is a good deal hur and the lameness will not go off directly Then mounting his cob and raising his hat 1 the lady, he trotted off. Needless to say, I w; very grateful to him. When he was gone my driver began to flc A JOB HORSE 157 tie reins about and whip the harness, by which junderstood that I was to go on, which of course i did, glad that the stone was gone, but still ia a good deal of pain. This was the sort of experience we job horses often came in for. Chapter XXIX COCKNEYS T HEN there is the steam-engine style o driving; these drivers were mostly peopl from towns, who never had a horse of thei own, and generally traveled by rail. They always seemed to think that a hors was something like a steam engine, only smallei At any rate, they think that if only they pay fo it a horse is bound to go just as far and jus as fast and with just as heavy a load as the; please. And be the roads heavy and muddy, o dry and good; be they stony or smooth, uphil or downhill, it is all the same — on, on, on, on must go, at the same pace, with no relief and n consideration. These people never think of getting out t walk up a steep hill. Oh, no, they have paid t ride, and ride they will! The horse? Oh, he’ used to it! What were horses made for, if no to drag people uphill? Walk? A good jok< indeed! And so the whip is plied and the reii is chucked, and often a rough, scolding voic< cries out, “Go along, you lazy beast!” And thei another slash of the whip, when all the tim< we are doing our very best to get along, un 158 COCKNEYS 159 omplaining and obedient, though often sorely jarassed and down-hearted. This steam-engine style of driving wears is out faster than any other kind. I would far Ether go twenty miles with a good, considerate (river than I would go ten with some of these; f would take less out of me. Another thing, they scarcely ever put on lie brake, however steep the downhill may be, aid thus bad accidents sometimes happen. Or i they do put it on, they often forget to take it of at the bottom of the hill. More than once I lave had to pull halfway up the next hill, with (ie of the wheels held by the brake, before my eiver chose to think about it, and that is a trrible strain on a horse. Then these cockneys, instead of starting at a easy pace, as a gentleman would do, gener- Ely set off at full speed from the very stable jird; and when they want to stop, they first \hip us, and then pull up so suddenly that we ce nearly thrown on our haunches, and our r ouths jagged with the bit. They call that pull- i g up with a dash. When they turn a corner, tey do it as sharply as if there were no right c wrong side of the road. I well remember one spring evening Rory aid I had been out for the day. (Rory was the J 160 BLACK BEAUTY horse that usually went with me when a pair ws ordered, and a good, honest fellow he was.) W had our own driver, and, as he was always cor siderate and gentle with us, we had a ver pleasant day. We were coming home at a good smai pace, about twilight. Our road turned sharp t the left, but as we were close to the hedge o our own side, and there was plenty of room t pass, our driver did not pull us in. As we neare the corner I heard a horse and two wheels con ing rapidly down the hill toward us. The hedg was high, and I could see nothing, but the nex moment we were upon each other. Happily fo me, I was on the side next the hedge. Rory wa on the left side of the pole, and had not even shaft to protect him. The man who was driving was making straight for the corner, and when he cam in sight of us he had no time to pull over to hi own side. The whole shock came upon Rorj The gig shaft ran right into his chest, making him stagger back with a cry that I shall neve forget. The other horse was thrown upon hi haunches and one shaft broken. It turned ou that it was a horse from our own stables, wit. the high-wheeled gig that the young men wer so fond of. COCKNEYS 161 The driver was one of those random, igno- ant fellows who don’t even know which is their wn side of the road, or, if they know, don’t are. And there was poor Rory with his flesh orn open and bleeding, and the blood streaming } own. They said if it had been a little more to ne side it would have killed him; and a good hing for him, poor fellow, if it had. As it was, it was a long time before the round healed, and then he was sold for coal arting; and what that is up and down those iteep hills, only horses know. Some of the sights jsaw there, where a horse had to come downhill yith a heavily loaded two-wheeled cart behind :im, on which no brake could be placed, make ;ie sad even now to think of. After Rory was disabled, I often went in lie carriage with a mare named Peggy, who i,:ood in the next stall to mine. She was a strong, well-made animal, of a bright dun color, feautifully dappled, and with a dark brown i^iane and tail. There was no high breeding oout her, but she was very pretty, and remark- ily sweet-tempered and willing. Still there was ii anxious look about her eye, by which I knew hat she had . some trouble. The first time we lent out together I thought she had a very odd pee; she seemed to go partly a trot, partly a 162 BLACK BEAUTY canter, three or four paces, and then a littl jump forward. It was very unpleasant for any horse wh pulled with her, and made me quite fidget: When we got home I asked her what made he go in that odd, awkward way. “Ah,” she said, in a troubled manner, ‘ know my paces are very bad, but what can I dc It really is not my fault; it is just because m legs are so short. I stand nearly as high as yoi but your legs are a good three inches longe above your knee than mine, and of course yo can take a much longer step and go much faste You see I did not make myself. I wish I ccul have done so; I would have had long legs thei All my troubles come from my short legs,” sa; Peggy, in a desponding tone. “But how is it,” I said, “when you are s 1 strong and good-tempered and willing?” “Why, you see,” said she, “men will go & 1 fast, and if one can't keep up to other horses, I is nothing but whip, whip, whip, all the tim ; And so I have had to keep up as I could, and ha^ got into this ugly, shuffling pace. It was n<; always so; when I lived with my first master' always went a good, regular trot; but then b was not in such a hurry. He was a young coun- try clergyman, and a good, kind master. He hd COCKNEYS 163 wo churches a good way apart, and a great deal n’t do so. “I am sure I don’t want to shy for the sake o' it; but how should one know what is danger- ois and what is not, if one is never allowed to gst used to anything? I am never afraid of what iknow. Now, I was brought up in a park where t ere were deer; of course I knew them as well a I did a sheep or a cow, but they are not com- non, and I know many sensible horses who are tightened at them, and who kick up quite a sindy before they will pass a paddock where t'ere are deer.” ’ I knew what my companion said was true, aid I wished that every young horse had as good Rasters as Farmer Grey and Squire Gordon. ; Of course we sometimes came in for good diving here. I remember one morning I was pit into the light gig, and taken to a house in Filteney Street. Two gentlemen came out; the tiler of them came round to my head; he looked a : the bit and bridle, and just shifted the collar w th his hand, to see if it fitted comfortably. u I 166 BLACK BEAUTY “Do you consider this horse wants a curb' he said to his hostler. “Well/’ said the man, “I should say he wovl go just as well without; he has an uncommi good mouth, and though he has a fine spirit 3 has no vice; but we generally find people hi the curb.” “I don’t like it,” said the gentleman, “3 so good as to take it off, and put the rein in t the check. An easy mouth is a great thing 1 a long journey, is it not, old fellow?” he sa, patting my neck. Then he took the reins, and they both gi up. I can remember now how quietly he turnl me round, and then with a light feel of the re, and drawing the whip gently across my ban we were off. I arched my neck and set off at ry best pace. I found I had someone behind me wo knew how a good horse ought to be driven, t seemed like old times again, and made me fcl quite gay. This gentleman took a great liking c me, and after trying me several times with te saddle he prevailed upon my master to sell ]f to a friend of his, who wanted a safe, pleasat horse for riding. And so it came to pass thl in the summer I was sold to Mr. Barry. Chapter XXX A THIEF i yTY NEW master was an unmarried man. He lived at Bath, and was engaged in business. His doctor advised him to take •rse exercise, and for this purpose he bought 3. He hired a stable a short distance from his Igings, and engaged a man named Filcher as oom. My master knew very little about horses, it he treated me well, and I should have had a )od and easy place but for circumstances of lich he was ignorant. He ordered the best hay th plenty of oats, crushed beans, and bran, th vetches, or rye grass, as the man might ink needful. I heard the master give the order, I knew there was plenty of good food, and I ought I was well off. For a few days all went on well. I found at my groom understood his business. He kept e stable clean and airy, and he groomed 3 thoroughly, and was never otherwise than intle. He had been a hostler in one of the great tels in Bath. He had given that up, and now Itivated fruit and vegetables for the market, d his wife bred and fattened poultry and bbits for sale. 167 168 BLACK BEAUTY After a while it seemed to me that my oal came very short. I had the beans, but bran m mixed with them instead of oats, of which thei were very few ; certainly not more than a qua: ter of what there should have been. In two c three weeks this began to tell upon my strengt and spirits. The grass food, though very gooi was not the thing to keep up my condition witl out corn. However, I could not complain, nc make known my wants. So it went on for aboi two months, and I wondered my master did n( see that something was the matter. Howeve one afternoon he rode out into the country to se a friend of his, a gentleman farmer, who live on the road to Wells. This gentleman had a very quick eye fc horses; and after he had welcomed his friend b said, casting his eye over me, “It seems to m< Barry, that your horse does not look so well s he did when you first had him; has he bee well?” “Yes,” said my master, “but he is not nearl so lively as he was. My groom tells me the horses are always dull and weak in the autumi and that I must expect it.” “Autumn, fiddlesticks!” said the farme: “Why, this is only August; and with your ligl work and good food he ought not to go down lik A THIEF 169 tps, even if it was autumn. How do you feed rjm?" My master told him. The other shook his bad slowly, and began to feel me over. “I can't say who eats your corn, my dear tllow, but I am much mistaken if your horse l$ts it. Have you ridden fast?" “No, very gently." “Then just put your hand here," said he, pissing his hand over my neck and shoulder. Me is as warm and damp as a horse just come ip from grass. I advise you to look into your liable a little more. I hate to be suspicious, and, aank Heaven, I have no cause to be, for I can tust my men, present or absent; but there are l ean scoundrels, wicked enough to rob a dumb bast of his food; you must look into it." And timing to the man who had come to take re, said, “Give this horse a right good feed of buised oats, and don’t stint him." “Dumb beasts!" Yes, we are; but if I could live spoken I could have told my master where I s oats went to. My groom used to come every rorning about six o’clock, and with him a little by, who always had a covered basket with him. le used to go with his father into the harness rom, where the corn was kept, and I could see t ern, when the door stood ajar, fill a little bag 170 BLACK BEAUTY with oats out of the bin, and then he used t be off. Five or six mornings after this, just as th boy had left the stable, a policeman walked ii holding the child tight by the arm. Another fo lowed and locked the door on the inside, saying “Show me the place where your father keep his rabbits’ food.” The boy looked very frightened and bega to cry; but there was no escape, and he led th way to the corn bin. Here the policeman four another empty bag like that which was four full of oats in the boy’s basket. Filcher was cleaning my feet at the tim< but they soon saw him, and though he blustere a good deal they walked him off to the “lockup, and his boy with him. I heard afterwards ths the boy was not held to be guilty, but the ma was sentenced to prison for two months. Chapter XXXI A HUMBUG M Y MASTER was not immediately suited, but in a few days my new groom came. He was a tall, good-looking fellow eiough; but if ever there was a humbug in the siape of a groom Alfred Smirk was the man. le was very civil to me, and never used me ill; i: fact, he did a great deal of stroking and pat- tag, when his master was there to see it. He sways brushed my mane and tail with water, aid my hoofs with oil, before he brought me to te door, to make me look smart; but as to ceaning my feet, or looking to my shoes, or gooming me thoroughly, he thought no more c that than if I had been a cow. He left my bit r.sty, my saddle damp, and my crupper stiff. Alfred Smirk considered himself very hand- sme; he spent a deal of time about his hair, viiskers, and necktie before a little looking- g ass in the harness room. When his master was seaking to him it was always “Yes, sir; yes, s:*” — touching his hat at every word; and every- e thought he was a very nice young man, and 172 BLACK BEAUTY that Mr. Barry was very fortunate to meet wit him. I should say he was the laziest, most coi ceited fellow I ever came near. Of course it we a great thing not to be ill-used, but then a hors wants more than that. I had a loose box, an might have been very comfortable if he had m been too indolent to clean it out. He never too all the straw away, and the smell from what la underneath was very bad; while the stron vapors that rose made my eyes smart, and I di not feel the same appetite for my food. One day his master came in and sai( “Alfred, the stable smells rather strong; shoul not you give that stall a good scrub, and thro’ down plenty of water?” “Well, sir,” he said, touching his cap, “F do so if you please, sir; but it is rather dange] ous, sir, throwing down water in a horse’s bos they are very apt to take cold, sir. I should nc like to do him an injury, but I’ll do it if yo please, sir.” “Well,” said his master, “I should not lik him to take cold, but I don’t like the smell of thi stable. Do you think the drains are all right?” “Well, sir, now you mention it, I think th drain does sometimes send back a smell; ther may be something wrong, sir.” A HUMBUG 173 “Then send for the bricklayer and have it pen to,” said his master. “Yes, sir, I will.” The bricklayer came, and pulled up a great lany bricks, but found nothing amiss; so he put own some lime, and charged the master five hillings, and the smell in my box was as bad as ver. But that was not all; standing as I did n a quantity of moist straw, my feet grew mhealthy and tender, and the master used to ay: “I don’t know what is the matter with this lorse; he goes very fumble-footed. I am some- imes afraid he will stumble.” “Yes, sir,” said Alfred, “I have noticed the ame myself, when I have exercised him.” Now the fact was that he hardly ever did exercise me, and when the master was busy I iften stood for days together without stretching ny legs at all, and yet being fed just as high as f I were at hard work. This often disordered ny health, and made me sometimes heavy and lull, but more often restless and feverish. He lever gave me a meal of green food or a bran nash, which would have cooled me, for he was altogether as ignorant as he was conceited; and hen, instead of exercise or change of food, I lad to take horseballs and drafts which, resides the nuisance of having them poured 174 BLACK BEAUTY down my throat, used to make me feel ill an( uncomfortable. One day my feet were so tender that, trot ting* over some fresh stones with my master oi my back, I made two such serious stumbles tha as he came down Lansdown into the city, h< stopped at the farrier’s, and asked him to se< what was the matter with me. The man tool up my feet one by one and examined them; thei standing up and dusting his hands one agains the other, he said : “Your horse has got the thrush, and badly too; his feet are very tender; it is fortunate tha he has not been down. I wonder your groom ha; not seen to it before. This is the sort of thini we find in foul stables, where the litter is neve] properly cleaned out. If you will send him hen tomorrow, I will attend to the hoof, and I wil direct your man how to apply the liniment whici I will give him.” The next day I had my feet thoroughly cleansed and stuffed with tow soaked in som( strong lotion ; and a very unpleasant business r was. The farrier ordered all the litter to be taker out of my box, day by day, and the floor kep very clean. Then I was to have bran mashes, ; little green food, and not so much corn, till my The farrier examined my feet one by one 176 BLACK BEAUTY feet were well again. With this treatment I soo: regained my spirits; but Mr. Barry was so muci disgusted at being twice deceived by his groom that he determined to give up keeping a horse and to hire when he wanted one. I was therefor kept till my feet were quite well, and was the] sold again. PART 111 Chapter XXXII A HORSE FAIR VTO DOUBT a horse fair is a very amusing place to those who have nothing to lose; at any rate, there is plenty to see. Long strings of young horses out of the ountry, fresh from the marshes; and droves t shaggy little Welsh ponies, no higher than lerrylegs; and hundreds of cart horses of all prts, some of them with their long tails braided ip and tied with scarlet cord; and a good many ^ke myself, handsome and high-bred, but fallen ito the middle class through some accident or llemish, unsoundness of wind, or some other omplaint. There were some splendid animals quite in neir prime, and fit for anything. They were lrowing out their legs and showing off their laces in high style, as they were trotted out with ; leading rein, the groom running by their side, jut round in the background there were a num- br of poor things, sadly broken down with hard v ork, with their knees knuckling over and their knd legs swinging out at every step; and there 177 178 BLACK BEAUTY were some very dejected-looking old horses, wit the underlip hanging down and the ears lyin back heavily, as if there were no more pleasrn in life, and no more hope. There were some 5 thin you might see all their ribs, and some wit old sores on their backs and hips. These wei sad sights for a horse to look upon, who kno\* not but that he may come to the same state. There was a great deal of bargaining, ( running up and beating down; and, if a hors may speak his mind, so far as he understands, should say there were more lies told and moi trickery at that horse fair than a clever ma could give an account of. I was put with two ( three other strong, useful-looking horses, and good many people came to look at us. The gei tlemen always turned from me when they sa my broken knees, though the man who had n swore it was only a slip in the stall. The first thing was to pull my mouth ope: then to look at my eyes, then feel all the wa down my legs and give me a hard feel of the ski and flesh, and then try my paces. It was wonde ful what a difference there was in the way the. c i things were done. Some did it in a rough, of hand way, as if one was only a piece of wooc while others would move their hands gently ove one’s body, with a pat now and then, as much ?> A HORSE FAIR 179 tf say, “By your leave.” Of course I judged a £pod deal of the buyers by their manners to rjyself. There was one man that made me think that i he would buy me I should be happy. He was rpt a gentleman, nor yet one of the loud, flashy sjrt that called themselves so. He was rather a snail man, but well made, and quick in all his rotions. I knew in a moment, by the way he Bandied me, that he was used to horses. He sioke gently, and his gray eye had a kindly, cteery look in it. It may seem strange to say — ht it is true all the same — that the clean, fresh snell there was about him made me take to him. Here was no smell of old beer and tobacco, vhich I hated, but a fresh smell, as if he had erne out of a hayloft. He offered twenty-three punds for me; but that was refused, and he valked away. I looked after him, but he was i>ne, and a very hard-looking, loud-voiced man ame. I was dreadfully afraid he would have r,e, but he walked off. ! One or two more came who did not mean asiness. Then the hard-faced man came back Spain and offered twenty-three pounds. A very cpse bargain was being driven, for my salesman bgan to think he should not get all he asked, s id must come down; but just then the gray- 180 BLACK BEAUTY eyed man came back again. I could not hel] reaching out my head toward him. He stroke my face kindly. “Well, old chap,” he said, “I think we shout suit each other. I’ll give twenty-four for him. “Say twenty-five, and you shall have him. “Twenty-four ten,” said my friend, in ; very decided tone, “and not another sixpence- yes, or no?” “Done,” said the salesman, “and you ma; depend upon it there’s a monstrous deal o quality in that horse, and if you want him fo cab work he is a bargain.” The money was paid on the spot, and m new master took my halter and led me out o the fair to an inn, where he had a saddle an bridle ready. He gave me a good feed of oats and stood by while I ate it, talking to himsel and talking to me. Half an hour after we wer on our way to London, through pleasant lane and country roads, until we came into the greal London thoroughfare, on which we travele steadily, till in the twilight we reached th great city. The gas lamps were already lighted; ther were streets to the right, and streets to the lef and streets crossing each other, for mile upo mile. I thought we should never come to th A HORSE FAIR 181 jn} of them. At last we came to a long cab itiind, when my rider called out in a cheery voice, ‘God night, Governor!” “Halloo!” cried a voice. “Have you got a rod one?” “I think so,” replied the owner. “I wish you luck with him.” “Thank ye, Governor,” and he rode on. N i soon turned up one of the side streets, and ibut halfway up that we turned into a very is tow street with rather poor-looking houses >none side, and what seemed to be coach houses lit stables on the other. My owner pulled up at one of the houses irl whistled. The door flew open and a young v< nan, followed by a little girl and boy, ran out. Here was a very lively greeting as my rider limounted. “Now then, Harry, my boy, open h gates, and mother will bring us the lantern.” The next minute they were all standing ■o nd me in a small stable yard. ; “Is he gentle, Father?” “Yes, Dolly, as gentle as your own kitten; iojie and pat him.” At once the little hand was )ating about over my shoulder without fear. Iw good it felt! “Let me get him a bran mash while you rub li i down,” said the mother. i 182 BLACK BEAUTY “Do, Polly, it’s just what he wants; ancl know you’ve got a beautiful mash ready for m< ’ “Sausage dumpling and apple turnover shouted the boy, which set them all laughir. I was led into a comfortable, clean-smelling stl with plenty of dry straw, and after a capital su- per I lay down, thinking I was going to be happ Chapter XXXIII A LONDON CAB HORSE Y NEW master’s name was Jeremiah Barker, but as everyone called him Jerry, I shall do the same. Polly, his wife, was jut as good a match as a man could have. She ms a plump, trim, tidy little woman, with 3 i ooth, dark hair, dark eyes, and a merry little liuth. The boy was nearly twelve years old, i tall, frank, good-tempered lad; and little Drothy (Dolly they called her) was her mother mr again at eight years old. They were all ^nderfully fond of each other; I never knew juh a happy, merry family before or since. Jerry had a cab of his own, and two horses, vich he drove and attended to himself. His )1ier horse was a tall, white, rather large-boned dimal, called Captain. He was old now, but n en he was young he must have been splendid. 3: had still a proud way of holding his head and dihing his neck; in fact, he was a high-bred, ije-mannered, noble old horse, every inch of liici. He told me that in his early youth he went ;cthe Crimean War; he belonged to an officer rthe cavalry, and used to lead the regiment [ ill tell more of that hereafter. 184 BLACK BEAUTY The next morning, when I was w] groomed, Polly and Dolly came into the yard o see me and make friends. Harry had been he >• ing his father since the early morning, and hi stated his opinion that I should turn out “a reg* lar brick.” Polly brought me a slice of apple, ai Dolly a piece of bread, and made as much of le as if I had been the “Black Beauty” of olda time. It was a great treat to be petted ag£a and talked to in a gentle voice, and I let thui see as well as I could that I wished to be friendf. Polly thought I was very handsome, and to good for a cab, if it was not for the broken knes. “There’s no one to tell us whose fault tht was,” said Jerry, “and as long as I don’t kn trying. I had never been used to London, an the noise, the hurry, the crowds of horses, car; and carriages, that I had to make my wa through, made me feel anxious and harasse But I soon found that I could trust my drive, and then I made myself easy, and got used to Jerry was as good a driver as I had eve known, and what was better, he took as mua thought for his horses as he did for himself, h soon found out that I was willing to work ail A LONDON CAB HORSE 187 h never laid the whip on me, unless it was gently dawing the end of it over my back, when I was tcgo on. Generally I knew this quite well by tie way in which he took up the reins; and I blieve his whip was more frequently stuck up b; his side than in his hand. In a short time my master and I understood e;ch other as well as horse and man can do. In tlb stable he did all that he could for our com- f(ft. The stalls were the old-fashioned style, to much on the slope; but he had two movable brs fixed across the back of our stalls, so that a night, when we were resting, he just took ofic o r halters and put up the bars, and thus we culd turn and stand whichever way we pleased. Tiis is a great comfort. Jerry kept us very clean, and gave us as nich change of food as he could, and always plenty of it. Not only that, but he always gave u plenty of fresh, clean water, which he allowed t< stand by us both night and day, except, of curse, when we came in warm. Some people say that a horse ought not to dink all he likes; but I know if we are allowed t< drink when we want it we drink only a little a a time, and it does us a great deal more good tlan swallowing down half a bucketful at a the, because we have been left without it till 188 BLACK BEAUTY we are thirsty and miserable. Some groon will go home to their beers, and leave us f- hours with our dry hay and oats and nothing i moisten them. Then of course we gulp dov. too much at once, which helps to spoil ov breathing and sometimes chills our stomach But the best thing that we had here was ov Sundays for rest! We worked so hard in the week that I do n ; think we could have kept up to it but for th; day; besides, we had time to enjoy each othei; company. It was on these days that I learnti my companion’s history. Chapter XXXIV AN OLD WAR HORSE i i APT AIN had been broken in and trained Ls for an army horse. His first owner was an officer of cavalry going out to the Crimean War. He said he quite enjoyed the jraining with all the other horses, trotting ogether, turning together, to the right hand or he left, halting at the word of command, or lashing forward at full speed at the sound of the rumpet or signal of the officer. He was, when jfoung, a dark, dappled iron gray, and considered f ery handsome. His master, a young, high-spirited gentle- aan, was very fond of him, and treated him rom the first with the greatest care and kind- tess. He told me he thought the life of an army torse was very pleasant; but when it came to ieing sent abroad over the sea in a great ship, e almost changed his mind. “That part of it,” said he, “was dreadful! )f course we could not walk off the land into the hip; so they were obliged to put strong straps nder our bodies. Then we were lifted off our Bgs in spite of our struggles, and were swung 190 BLACK BEAUTY through the air over the water to the deck o: the great vessel. There we were placed ii small, close stalls, and never for a long firm saw the sky, or were able to stretch our legs The ship sometimes rolled about in high winds and we were knocked about, and felt badl? enough. 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 fo: joy, when we once more felt firm ground unde: our feet. “We soon found that the country we hac come to was very different from our own, anc that we had many hardships to endure beside 1 the fighting; but many of the men were so font of their horses that they did everything the? could to make them comfortable, in spite o: 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. W< always liked to hear the trumpet sound, and t( be called out, and were impatient to start off though sometimes we had to stand for hours waiting for the word of command. When th« word was given, we used to spring forward a gaily and eagerly as if there were no cannon balls, bayonets, or bullets. I believe so long a AN OLD WAR HORSE 191 m felt our rider firm in the saddle, and his hand teady on the bridle, not one of us gave way to ear, not even when the terrible bombshells whirled through the air and burst into a thou- and pieces. “My noble master and I went into many actions together without a wound, and though saw horses shot down with bullets, pierced hrough with lances, and gashed with fearful aber cuts, though we left them dead on the field, r dying in the agony of their wounds, I don’t hink I feared for myself. My master’s cheery pice, as he encouraged his men, made me feel is if he and I could not be killed. I had such erfect trust in him that while he was guiding le I was ready to charge up to the very cannon’s pouth. “I saw many brave men cut down, many all mortally wounded from their saddles. I ave heard the cries and groans of the dying, I ave cantered over ground slippery with blood, nd frequently had to turn aside to avoid tramp- ng on a wounded man or horse, but, until one readful day, I had never felt terror; that day shall never forget.” Here old Captain paused for a while and Tew a long breath; I waited, and he went on. “It was one autumn morning, and, as usual, 192 BLACK BEAUTY an hour before daybreak our cavalry had turnec out, ready caparisoned for the day’s work whether it might be fighting or waiting. Th( men stood by their horses waiting, ready foi orders. As the light increased, there seemed t( be some excitement among the officers, anc before the day was well begun we heard th( firing of the enemy’s guns. “Then one of the officers rode up and gav( the word for the men to mount. In a seconc every man was in his saddle, and every hors( stood expecting the touch of the rein or the pres sure of his rider’s heels, all animated, all eager But still we had been trained so well that, excep by the champing of our bits and the restive toss- ing of our heads, it could not be said that m stirred. “My dear master and I were at the head o: the line, and as all sat motionless and watchful he took a little stray lock of my mane which hac turned over on the wrong side, laid it over or the right, and smoothed it down with his hand Then patting my neck, he said, ‘We shall haw a day of it today, Bayard, my beauty; but we’l do our duty as we have done/ “He stroked my neck that morning more, 1 think, than he had ever before; quietly on anc on, as if he were thinking of something else AN OLD WAR HORSE 193 loved to feel his hand on my neck, and arched ly crest proudly and happily; but I stood very till, for I knew all his moods, and when he liked ;ie to be quiet, and when gay. “I cannot tell all that happened on that day, ut I will tell of the last charge that we made ogether. It was across a valley right in front; f the enemy’s cannon. By this time we were fell used to the roar of heavy guns, the rattle i musketry fire, and the flying of shot near us; ut never had I been under such a fire as we rode hrough on that day. From the right, from the 'eft, and from the front, shot and shell poured n upon us. Many a brave man went down, jiany a horse fell, flinging his rider to the earth; :;iany a horse without a rider ran wildly out of le ranks; then, terrified at being alone, with jo hand to guide him, came pressing in among is old companions, to gallop with them to the barge. “Fearful as it was, no one stopped, no one urned back. Every moment the ranks were is our comrades fell we closed in naken or staggered in our pace, our gallop ecame faster as we neared the cannon, all < ouded in white smoke, while the red fire flashed together; and instead of being 194 BLACK BEAUTY “My master, my dear master, was cheering on his comrades with his right arm raised oi high, when one of the balls whizzing close to m; head struck him. I felt him stagger with th shock, though he uttered no cry. I tried to checl my speed, but the sword dropped from his righ hand, the rein fell loose from the left, and sink ing backward from the saddle, he fell to th earth; the other riders swept past us, and by th force of their charge I was driven from the spo where he fell. “I wanted to keep my place by his side, an not leave him under that rush of horses’ feel but it was in vain; and now, without a master o a friend, I was alone on that great slaughte ground. Then fear took hold of me, and trembled as I had never trembled before; and i too, as I had seen other horses do, tried to jof in the ranks and gallop with them; but I wa beaten off by the swords of the soldiers. Jus then, a soldier whose horse had been kille under him caught at my bridle and mounted m< and with this new master I was again goin forward. But our gallant company was cruell overpowered, and those who remained aliv after the fierce fight for the guns came gallopin back over the same ground. “Some of the horses had been so badl AN OLD WAR HORSE 195 vounded that they could scarcely move from the lss of blood; other noble creatures were trying cl three legs to drag themselves along, and chers were struggling to rise on their forefeet, \jhen their hind legs had been shattered by shot. Oheir groans were piteous to hear, and the be- seeching look in their eyes as those who escaped passed them by, and left them to their fate, I stall never forget. After the battle the wounded r en were brought in, and the dead were buried.” “And what about the wounded horses?” I Slid, “were they left to die?” “No, the army farriers went over the field vith their pistols and shot all that were ruined. k)me that had only slight wounds were brought lick and attended to, but the greater part of t e noble, willing creatures that went out that rorning never came back! In our stables there vas only about one in four that returned. “I never saw my dear master again. I blieve he fell dead from the saddle. I never Wed any other master so well. I went into many ! cher engagements, but was only once wounded, £]id then not seriously; and when the war was c r er I came back again to England, as sound Sjid strong as when I went out.” I said, “I have heard people talk about war £. if it was a very fine thing.” 196 BLACK BEAUTY “Ah!” said he, “I should think they never sav it. No doubt it is very fine when there is n< enemy, when it is just exercise and parade, ant sham fight. Yes, it is fine then; but when thou sands of good, brave men and horses are killet or crippled for life, it has a different look.” “Do you know what they fought about? 1 said I. “No,” he said, “that is more than a hors can understand; but the enemy must have beei awfully wicked people, if it were right to go al that way over the sea on purpose to kill them. Chapter XXXV JERRY BARKER 1 NEVER knew a better man than my new master. He was kind and good, and as strong for the right as John Manly; and sc good-tempered and merry, that very few pople could pick a quarrel with him. He was vry fond of making little songs, and singing tbm to himself. One he was very fond of was tts: 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 3tble work as a much older boy, and always voted to do what he could. Then Polly and Dlly used to come in the morning to help with ihi cab — to brush and beat the cushions, and t> the glass, while Jerry was giving us a clean- nr in the yard, and Harry was rubbing the ic’ness. There used to be a deal of laughing irl fun between them, and it put Captain and n in much better spirits than if we had heard sc lding and hard words. They were always up saly in the morning, for Jerry would say: 198 BLACK BEAUTY If you in the morning Throw minutes away, You can’t pick them up In the course of the day ; You may hurry and scurry. And flurry and worry, You’ve lost them forever. Forever and aye. He could not bear any careless loitering ad waste of time; and nothing was so near makig him angry as to find people, who were alwss late, wanting a cab horse to be driven hard, o make up for their idleness. One day two wild-looking young men caie out of a tavern close by the stand and calld Jerry. “Here, cabby! look sharp, we are rathr late. Put on the steam, will you, and take us a the Victoria in time for the one o’clock trai? You shall have a shilling extra.” “I will take you at the regular pace, genth men; shillings don’t pay for putting on stein like that.” Larry’s cab was standing next to ours; e flung open the door and said, “I’m your mil, gentlemen! take my cab; my horse will get yu there all right,” and as he shut them in with wink toward Jerry, said, “It’s against his co- science to go beyond a jog trot.” Then slashig JERRY BARKER 199 hs 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 tling — would it, old boy?” Although Jerry was set against hard diving to please careless people, he always went a^ood, fair pace, and was not against putting o: the steam, as he said, if only he knew why. I raiember one morning as we were on the stand wiiting for a fare, that a young man, carrying a leavy portmanteau, trod on a piece of orange pel and fell down with great force. Jerry was the first to run and lift him up. Hi seemed much stunned, and as they led him ir;o a shop he walked as if he were in great pain. Jcry, of course, came back to the stand, but in abut ten minutes one of the shopmen called h a, so we drew up to the pavement. “Can you take me to the Southeastern Rilway?” said the young man. “This unlucky fa has made me late, I fear; but it is of great inoortance that I should not lose the twelve *si r flock train. I should be most thankful if you Xild get me there in time, and will gladly pay ya an extra fare.” “Fll do my very best,” said Jerry heartily, : ;‘i you think you are well enough, sir,” for he djked dreadfully white and ill. 200 BLACK BEAUTY ‘T must go,” he said earnestly, “plese open the door, and let us lose no time.” The next minute Jerry was on the box, w h a cheery chirrup to me and a twitch of the m that I well understood. “Now, then, Jack, my boy,” said he, “sin along; well show them how we can get over te ground, if we only know why.” It is always difficult to drive fast in the cy in the middle of the day, when the streets ce full of traffic, but we did what could be dor:; and when a good driver and a good horse, wo understand each other, are of one mind, its wonderful what they can do. I had a very god mouth — that is, I could be guided by te slightest touch of the rein. That is a great thing in London, amog carriages, omnibuses, carts, vans, trucks, cat, and great wagons creeping along at a wax- ing pace; some going one way, some a- other, some going slowly, others wanting o pass them; omnibuses stopping short every Lv minutes to take up a passenger, obliging te horse that is coming to pull up too, or to pas, and get before them. Perhaps you try to pa?, but just then something else comes dashing n through the narrow opening, and you have o keep in behind the omnibus again. Preseny JERRY BARKER 201 yp think you see a chance and manage to get tcthe front, getting so near the wheels on each site that half an inch nearer and they would scape. Well — you get along for a bit, but soon fid yourself in a long train of carts and car- riges all obliged to go at a walk. Perhaps you cone to a regular block up, and have to stand sill for minutes together, till something clears ot into a side street or the policeman interferes. Y»u have to be ready for any chance — to dash forward if there be an opening, and be quick as a rat dog to see if there be room and if there fo time, lest you get your own wheels locked or stashed, or the shaft of some other vehicle run irfto your chest or shoulder. All this is what you hve to be ready for. If you want to get through Lndon fast in the middle of the day, it needs a dal of practice. J Jerry and I were used to it, and no one could but us at getting through when we were set Ujon it. I was quick and bold and could trust rr r driver; Jerry was quick and patient at the sghe time, and could trust his horse, which was a threat thing, too. He seldom used the whip; I k]ew by his voice, and his click, click, when he wnted to get on fast, and by the rein where I ws to go; so there was no need for whipping. Bt I must go back to my story. 202 BLACK BEAUTY The streets were very full that day, but v, got on pretty well as far as the bottom of Chea- side, where there was a block for three or fo: minutes. The young man put his head out ail said, “I think I had better get out and walk;! shall never get there if this goes on.” ‘Til do all that can be done, sir,” said Jerr. “I think we shall be in time; this block up cann; last much longer, and your luggage is ve/ heavy for you to carry, sir.” Just then the cart in front of us began ) move on, and then we had a good turn. In ail out — in and out we went, as fast as horseflei could do it, and for a wonder had a good clef time on London Bridge, for there was a who train of cabs and carriages, all going our w ;/ at a quick trot — perhaps wanting to catch tht very train. At any rate, we whirled into fcj station, with many more, just as the great doe pointed to eight minutes to twelve o’clock. “Thank God! we are in time,” said tjj young man, “and thank you, too, my friend, ail your good horse. You have saved me more tha money can ever pay for; take this extra hsf crown.” “No, sir, no, thank you all the same. I ai glad we hit the time, sir; but don’t stay now, s , the bell is ringing. Here, porter! take this ge* JERRY BARKER 203 tlsman’s luggage — Dover line — twelve o’clock tain — that’s it,” and without waiting for an- ofier word, Jerry wheeled me round to make rom for other cabs that were dashing up at the lit minute, and drew up on one side till the cjush was passed. “So glad!” he said, “so glad! poor young Mow! I wonder what it was that made him so axious?” Jerry often talked to himself quite loud enough for me to hear, when we were not living. On Jerry’s return to the rank, there was a god deal of laughing and chaffing at him for diving hard to the train for an extra fare, as ttey said, all against his principles, and they vinted to know how much he had pocketed. “A good deal more than I generally get,” sad he, nodding slyly, “what he gave me will kep me in little comforts for several days.” “Gammon!” said one. ; “He’s a humbug,” said another, “preaching t|us, and then doing the same himself.” “Look here, mates,” said Jerry, “the gentle- dm offered me half a crown extra, but I didn’t tKe it. ’Twas pay enough for me to see how gid he was to catch that train; and if Jack and I hoose to have a quick run now and then, to 204 BLACK BEAUTY please ourselves, that’s our business, not yours' “Well,” said Larry, “you’ll never be a ri< man.” “Most likely not,” said Jerry, “but I dor; know that I shall be the less happy for that. [ have heard the Commandments read a gre; many times, and I never noticed that any ; them said ‘Thou shalt be rich’; and there arei good many curious things said in the New Test- ment about rich men, that I think would ma'j me feel rather queer if I was one of them.” “If you ever do get rich,” said Govern: Gray, looking over his shoulder across the top f his cab, “you’ll deserve it, Jerry, and you wort find a curse come with your wealth. As for yc, Larry, you’ll die poor; you spend too much 1 whipcord.” “Well,” said Larry, “what is a fellow to d if his horse won’t go without it?” “You never take the trouble to see if e will go without it; your whip is always going s if you had the St. Vitus’s dance in your arm; a:i if it does not wear you out it wears your hoie out. You know you are always changing yor horses, and why? because you never give thnes, “it would prevent your religious people fom making us work on Sundays, as you know rany of them do, and that’s why I say religion i nothing but a sham. Why, if it was not for tie church and chapelgoers it would be hardly vprth while our coming out on a Sunday; but t ey have their privileges, as they call them, and ibo without. I shall expect them to answer for i ry soul, if I can’t get a chance of saving it.” Several of the men applauded this, till Jerry sid: “That may sound well enough, but it won’t ;(k Every man must look after his own soul; ifu can’t lay it down at another man’s door like a foundling, and expect him to take care of it. Aid, don’t you see, if you are always sitting on •y ur box waiting for a fare, they will say, Tf we dn’t take him someone else will, and he does nt look for any Sunday.’ Of course they don’t g to the bottom of it, or they would see if they | 212 BLACK BEAUTY never came for a cab it would be no use you standing there. But people don’t always like t go to the bottom of things; it may not be cor venient to do it. If you Sunday drivers woul all strike for a day of rest, the thing woul be done.” “And what would all the good people do i they could not get to their favorite preachers? said Larry. “ ’Tis not for me to lay down plans for othe people,” said Jerry, “but if they can’t walk s far, they can go to what is nearer; and if : should rain they can put on their mackintoshe: as they do on a week day. If a thing is righ it can be done, and if it is wrong, it can b done without. A good man will find a way; an that is as true for us cabmen as it is for th churchgoers.” Chapter XXXVII THE GOLDEN RULE rpWO or three weeks after this, as we came 1 into the yard rather late in the evening, Polly came running across the road with the latern (she always brought it to him if it was n’t very wet) . “It has all come right, Jerry; Mrs. Briggs sat her servant this afternoon to ask if you w»uld take her out tomorrow at eleven o'clock. Laid, 'Yes, I thought so, but we supposed she employed someone else now.' ” “ 'Well,' he said, 'master was put out b cause Barker refused to come on Sundays, and h has been trying other cabs, but there’s some- ting wrong with them all; some drive too fast, a:d some too slow. The mistress says there is nit one of them so nice and clean as yours, and n* thing will suit her but Barker’s cab again.’ ” Polly was almost out of breath, and Jerry bi)ke out into a merry laugh. “ ’Twill all come right Some day or night. f’u were right, my dear; you generally are. Eln in and get the supper, and I’ll have Jack’s 214 BLACK BEAUTY harness off and make him snug and happy i no time.” After this, Mrs. Briggs wanted Jerry’s ca quite as often as before, never, however, on< Sunday. But there came a day when he hd Sunday work, and this was how it happened. V) had all come home on the Saturday night ve: ? tired, and very glad to think that the next dr would be all rest, but it was not to be. On Sunday morning Jerry was cleaning in the yard, when Polly stepped up to him, loo- ing very full of something. “What is it?” said Jerry. “Well, my dear,” she said, “poor Dina Brown has just had a letter brought to say th: her mother is dangerously ill, and that she mu: go directly if she wishes to see her alive. Th place is more than ten miles away from here, o: in the country, and she says if she takes the trai she should still have four miles to walk. Wea as she is, and the baby only four weeks old, f course that would be impossible. She wants ) know if you would take her in your cab, and s| promises to pay you faithfully, as soon as sh can get the money.” “Tut, tut! we’ll see about that. It was nt the money I was thinking about, but of losing or Sunday. The horses are tired, and I am tire, too — that’s where it pinches.” THE GOLDEN RULE 215 «1 It pinches all round, for that matter,” said Lily, “for it's only half Sunday without you, but yu know we should do to other people as we should like they should do to us. I know very will what I should like if my mother was dying; a d, Jerry, I am sure it won’t break the Sabbath; ft if pulling a poor beast out of a pit would not spil it, I am quite sure taking poor Dinah would nt do it.” ' j “Why, Polly, you are as good as the minister, a;d so, as I’ve had my Sunday-morning sermon 9dy today, you may go and tell Dinah that I’ll )b« ready for her as the clock strikes ten. But s|p — just step round to butcher Braydon’s with M t compliments, and ask him if he would lend i. ds his light trap. I know he never uses it on ;h Sunday, and it would make a wonderful Inference to the horse.” Away she went, and soon returned, saying |it he could have the trap and welcome. All right,” said he, “now put me up a bit 1, bread and cheese, and I’ll be back in the aternoon as soon as I can.” “And I’ll have the meat pie ready for an 3Sjly tea instead of for dinner,” said Polly; and i\ay she went, while he made his preparations othe tune of “Polly’s the woman and no n;take,” of which tune he was very fond. 216 BLACK BEAUTY I was selected for the journey, and at hi o’clock we started in a light, high-wheeled gi, which ran so easily that after the four-wheel l cab it seemed like nothing. It was a fine May day, and as soon as v were out of the town, the sweet air, the smell f the fresh grass and the soft country roads we? as pleasant as they used to be in the old timq and I soon began to feel quite fresh. Dinah’s family lived in a small farmhous, up a green lane, close by a meadow with son fine shady trees; there were two cows feeding 1 it, A young man asked Jerry to bring his tro into the meadow, and he would tie me up in ii cowshed; he wished he had a better stable 3 offer. “If your cows would not be offended,” sal Jerry, ‘There is nothing my horse would like 3 well as to have an hour or two in your beautiil meadow; he’s quiet, and it would be a rare tret for him.” “Do, and welcome,” said the young ma; “the best we have is at your service for yor kindness to my sister. We shall be having soie dinner in an hour, and I hope you’ll come :i, though with mother so ill we are all out of sois in the house.” Jerry thanked him kindly, but as he hi 218 BLACK BEAUTY some dinner with him, there was nothing 1 should like so well as walking about in tt meadow. When my harness was taken off I did n( know what I should do first — whether to eat tl grass, or roll over on my back, or lie down an rest, or have a gallop across the meadow out ( sheer spirits at being free; and I did all by turn Jerry seemed to be quite as happy as I was. E sat down by a bank under a shady tree, an listened to the birds, then he sang to himself, an read out of the little brown book he is so fon of, then wandered around the meadow and dow by a little brook, where he picked the flowers an the hawthorn, and tied them up with long spraj of ivy. Then he gave me a good feed of the oai which he had brought with him. But the tin: seemed all too short — I had not been in a fiel since I left poor Ginger at Earlshall. We came home gently, and Jerry’s fin words were, as we came into the yard, “Wei Polly, I have not lost my Sunday after all, fc the birds were singing hymns in every bush, an I joined in the service; and as for Jack, he Wc like a young colt.” When he handed Dolly the flowers, sf jumped about for joy. Chapter XXXVIII DOLLY AND A REAL GENTLEMAN T HE winter came in early, with a great deal of cold and wet. There was snow, or sleet, or rain, almost every day for weeks, chang- i]g only for keen driving winds or sharp frosts. Tie horses all felt it very much. When it is a dy cold, a couple of good, thick rugs will keep te warmth in us; but when it is soaking rain, t ey soon get wet through and are no good. Some of the drivers had a waterproof cover f throw over, which was a fine thing; but sme of the men were so poor that they could nt protect either themselves or their horses, a d many of them suffered very much that win- fir. When we horses had worked half the day :v‘ went to our dry stables and could rest; while tfey had to sit on their boxes, sometimes staying o t as late as one or two o’clock in the morning, iithey had a party to wait for. When the streets were slippery with frost o: snow, that was the worst of all for us horses. 0\e mile of such traveling with a weight to daw, and no firm footing, would take more out o:us than four on a good road. Every nerve and 220 BLACK BEAUTY muscle of our bodies is on the strain to keep 01 balance; and the fear of falling is more exhaus ing than anything else. If the roads are vei bad indeed, our shoes are roughed; but th:; makes us feel nervous at first. When the weather was very bad, many <: the men would go and sit in the tavern close b and get someone to watch for them; but the often lost a fare in that way, and could not, ;; Jerry said, be there without spending mone He never went to the Rising Sun. There was , coffee shop near, where he now and then wen, or he bought of an old man, who came to or rank with tins of hot coffee and pies. It was Jerry’s opinion that spirits and bee made a man colder afterwards, and that dr clothes, good food, cheerfulness, and a comfor- able wife at home, were the best things to kee a cabman warm. Polly always supplied hil with something to eat when he could not g: home, and sometimes he would see little Dob peeping from the corner of the street, to mal; sure if “father” was on the stand. If she sa' him, she would run off at full speed and soci come back with something in a tin or baske some hot soup or pudding that Polly had read. It was wonderful how such a little thin could get safely across the street, often throngfi DOLLY 221 vith horses and carriages; but she was a brave l;;tle maid, and felt it quite an honor to bring other's first course, as he used to call it. She vas a general favorite on the stand, and there vis not a man who would not have seen her sfely across the street if Jerry had not been a»le to do it. One cold, windy day, Dolly had brought Jrry a basin of something hot, and was stand- iig by him while he ate it. He had scarcely bgun, when a gentleman, walking toward us vry fast, held up his umbrella. Jerry touched hs hat in return, gave the basin to Dolly, and vis taking off my cloth, when the gentleman, hastening up, cried out: “No, no, finish your soup, my friend. I have lit much time to spare, but I can wait till you hve done, and set your little girl safe on the pvement." So saying, he seated himself in the cb. Jerry thanked him kindly and came back t< Dolly. j “There, Dolly, that's a gentleman; that’s a rial gentleman, Dolly; he has got time and ti ought for the comfort of a poor cabman and a little girl." Jerry finished his soup, set the c ild across, and then took his orders to drive to Capham Rise. Several times after that the same gentleman 222 BLACK BEAUTY took our cab. I think he was very fond of doji and horses, for whenever we took him to his ovi door, two or three dogs would come boundir; out to meet him. Sometimes he came round ail patted me, saying in his quiet way, “This hor 3 has got a good master, and he deserves it.” It was a very rare thing for anyone j notice the horse that had been working for hii I have known ladies do it now and then, and th gentleman and one or two others have given n 3 a pat and a kind word; but ninety-nine out ofi hundred would as soon think of patting th steam engine that drew the train. This gentleman was not young, and the:; was a forward stoop in his shoulders as if he w;; always going at something. His lips were tin and close shut, though they had a very pleasai smile; his eye was keen, and there was som- thing in his jaw, and the motion of his head, th;; made one think he was very determined in am thing he set about. His voice was pleasant ar. kind; any horse would trust that voice, though : was just as decided as everything else about hir. One day he and another gentleman toe: our cab. They stopped at a shop in R Stree. and while his friend went in, he stood at th door. A little ahead of us, on the other side ( ! the street, a cart with two very fine horses ws DOLLY 223 sanding before some wine vaultSo The carter \as not with them, and I cannot tell how long hey had been standing before they seemed to tank they had waited long enough and began t move off. Before they had gone many paces, tie carter came running out and caught them, le seemed furious at their having moved, and vith whip and rein punished them brutally, even bating them about the head. Our gentleman aw it all, and stepping quickly across the street, aid, in a decided voice : “If you don’t stop that directly I’ll have you rrested for leaving your horses, and for brutal onduct.” : The man, who had clearly been drinking, pured forth some abusive language, but he 1 ft off knocking the horses about, and taking te reins got into his cart. Meantime our fiend had quietly taken a notebook from his pcket, and looking at the name and address pinted on the cart, he wrote something down. “What do you want with that?” growled te carter, as he cracked his whip and was foving on. A nod and a grim smile was the oily answer he got. On returning to the cab, our friend was j ined by his companion, who said, laughingly, “ should have thought, Wright, you had enough i 224 BLACK BEAUTY business of your own to look after, withoi troubling yourself about other people’s hors< and servants.” Our friend stood still for a moment, ar said, “Do you know why this world is as bad i it is?” “No,” said the other. “Then I’ll tell you. It is because peop' think only about their own business, and won trouble themselves to stand up for the oppressei nor bring the wrongdoer to light. I never st a wicked thing like this without doing what can, and many a master has thanked me for le ting him know how his horses have been used. “I wish there were more gentlemen lit you, sir,” said Jerry, “for they are wanted badl enough in this city.” After this we continued our journey, and a they got out of the cab our friend was sayini “My doctrine is this, that if we see cruelty c wrong that we have the power to stop, and d nothing, we make ourselves sharers in the guilt. Chapter XXXIX SEEDY SAM 1 SHOULD say that for a cab horse I was very well off indeed. My driver was my owner, and it was his interest to treat me well, aid not overwork me, even if he had not been so giod a man as he was. But there were a great nany horses which belonged to the large cab o'/ners, who let them out to their drivers for so mch money a day. As the horses did not blong to these men, the only thing they thought o was how to get their money out of them, first, t< pay their master, and then to provide for their o\m living, and a dreadful time some of these hrses had of it. Of course I understood but li tie, but it was often talked over on the stand, a d the Governor, who was a kind-hearted man, ad fond of horses, would sometimes speak up hone came in very much jaded or ill-used. One day a shabby, miserable-looking driver, wio went by the name of “Seedy Sam/’ brought ii his horse looking dreadfully beat, and the Governor said, “You and your horse look more fi for the police station than for this rank.” The man flung his tattered rug over the 225 226 BLACK BEAUTY horse, turned full round upon the Governor, a j said in a voice that sounded almost desperate: “If the police have any business with te matter, it ought to be with the masters wo charge us so much, or with the fares that a a fixed so low. If a man has to pay eighteen sh * lings a day for the use of a cab and two hors<;, as many of us have to do in the season, and mit make up that before we earn a penny for ot- selves — I say ’tis more than hard work. Ni:a shillings a day to get out of each horse, befoa you begin to get your own living. You knc/ that’s true, and if the horses don’t work we mrt starve. My children and I have known wht that is before now. I’ve six of ’em, and on/ one earns anything. “I am on the stand fourteen or sixtea hours a day, and I haven’t had a Sunday the3 ten or twelve weeks. You know Skinner nevr gives a day if he can help it; and if I don’t wo:c hard, tell me who does? I want a warm cot and a mackintosh, but with so many to feed ha can a man get it? I had to pledge my clocki week ago to pay Skinner, and I shall never S3 it again.” Some of the other drivers stood round no- ding their heads, and saying he was right. Tj 3 man went on : SEEDY SAM 227 “You that have your own horses and cabs, c drive for good masters, have a chance of get- tig on and a chance of doing right; I haven’t. Ye can’t charge more than sixpence a mile after t e first, within the four-mile radius. This very norning I had to go a clear six miles and only tpk three shillings. I could not get a return f re, and had to come all the way back; there’s twelve miles for the horse and three shillings f|r me. “After that I had a three-mile fare, and tlere were bags and boxes enough to have bought in a good many twopences if they had ben put outside. But you know how people do ; a that could be piled up inside on the front seat Wire put in, and three heavy boxes went on the to; that was sixpence; and the fare one and siipence; then I got a return for a shilling. N)w that makes eighteen miles for the horse and sj: shillings for me; there’s three shillings still ft that horse to earn, and nine shillings for the a;ernoon horse before I touch a penny. “Of course it is not always as bad as that, but yu know it often is. I say ’tis a mockery to M a man that he must not overwork his horse, f(* when a beast is downright tired there’s nthing but the whip that will keep his legs aping. You can’t help yourself — you must : r 228 BLACK BEAUTY put your wife and children before the hors; the master must look to that, we can’t. I do;t ill-use my horse for the sake of it; none of yj can say I do. There’s wrong lays somewhere - never a day’s rest, never a quiet hour with te wife and children. I often feel like an old ms, though I’m only forty-five. “You know how quick some of the gent/ are to suspect us of cheating and overchargiir. Why, they stand with their purses in their hans counting it over to a penny, and looking at 3 as if we were pickpockets. I wish some of ’ei had to sit on my box sixteen hours a day ail get a living out of it and eighteen shilling besides, and that in all weathers. They won! not be so uncommon particular never to give 3 a sixpence over, or to cram all the luggap inside. Of course some of ’em tip us pret/ handsome now and then, or else we could n; live, but you can’t depend upon that.” The men who stood round much approvd this speech, and one of them said, “It is despe- ate hard, and if a man sometimes does what 5 wrong it is no wonder, and if he gets a drai too much, who’s to blow him up?” Jerry had taken no part in this convers- ion, but I never saw his face look so sad befor. The Governor had stood with both his hands :i SEEDYSAM 229 bs pockets; now he took his handkerchief out c his hat and wiped his forehead. “You’ve beaten me, Sam,” he said, “for it’s si true, and I won’t cast it up to you any more grout the police. It was the look in that horse’s e r e that came over me. It is hard lines for man, aid it is hard lines for beast, and who’s to mend i I don’t know; but anyway you might tell the por beast that you were sorry to take it out of bm in that way. Sometimes a kind word is all ve can give ’em, poor brutes, and ’tis wonderful ^hat they do understand.” A few mornings after this talk a new man cme on the stand with Sam’s cab. “Halloo!” said one, “what’s up with Seedy Sun?” “He’s ill in bed,” said the man, “he was tken last night in the yard, and could scarcely c'awl home. His wife sent a boy this morning t say his father was in a high fever and could nt get out; so I’m here instead.” The next morning the same man came rain. “How is Sam?” inquired the Governor. “He’s gone,” said the man. “What! gone? You don’t mean to say he’s ad? “Just snuffed out,” said the other, “he died ta 230 BLACK BEAUTY at four o’clock this morning. All yesterday h was raving — raving about Skinner, and havir; no Sundays. T never had a Sunday’s rest’ we > his last words.” No one spoke for a while, and then the Go- ernor said, “I tell you what, mates, this is i warning for us.” Chapter XL POOR GINGER I O NE day, while our cab and many others were waiting outside one of the parks where music was playing, a shabby old cab dove up beside ours. The horse was an old, vprn-out chestnut, with an ill-kept coat, and bnes that showed plainly through it; the knees buckled over, and the forelegs were very .disteady. I had been eating some hay, and the wind riled a little of it that way. The poor creature pit out her long, thin neck and picked it up, ad then turned round and looked about for nbre. There was a hopeless look in the dull e e that I could not help noticing, and then, as I was thinking where I had seen that horse b.fore, she looked full at me and said, “Black Bauty, is that you?” It was Ginger! but how changed! The bautifully arched and glossy neck was now svaight and lank and fallen in; the clean, sfaight legs and delicate fetlocks were swelled; tb joints were grown out of shape with hard wrk; the face, that once was so full of spirit 231 232 BLACK BEAUTY and life was now full of suffering, and I could te by the heaving of her sides, and her frequer cough, how bad her breath was. Our drivers were standing together a litt: way off, so I sidled up to her a step or two, th; we might have a little quiet talk. It was a sa tale that she had to tell. After a twelve-months’ run off at Earlsha she was considered to be fit for work again, ar was sold to a gentleman. For a while she g( on well, but after a longer gallop than usual tt old strain returned, and after being rested ar doctored she was again sold. In this way st changed hands several times, but always gettin lower down. “And so at last,” said she, “I was bought t a man who keeps a number of cabs and horse and lets them out. You look well off, and I ai glad of it, but I could not tell you what my lit has been. When they found out my weaknes they said I was not worth what they gave fc me, and that I must go into one of the low cab. and just be used up. That is what they an doing, whipping and working me with never or; thought of what I suffer — they paid for me ar. must get it out of me, they say. The man wl> hires me now pays a deal of money to the own<' every day, and so he has to get it out of me, to; I POOR GINGER 233 jnd so it’s all the week round and round, with fever a Sunday rest.” I said, “You used to stand up for yourself i you were ill-used.” “Ah!” she said, “I did once, but it’s no use. ten are strongest, and if they are cruel and lave no feeling, there is nothing we can do but jist bear it — bear it on and on to the end. I tish the end was come; I wish I was dead. I have sen dead horses, and I am sure they do not Affer pain. I wish I may drop down dead at iy work, and not be sent off to the knacker’s.” I was very much troubled and I put my nose p to hers, but I could say nothing to comfort hr. I think she was pleased to see me, for she aid, “You are the only friend I ever had.” Just then her driver came up, and with a tg at her mouth backed her out of the line and rove off, leaving me very sad indeed. A short time after this, a cart with a dead brse on it passed our cab stand. The head hng out of the cart tail, the lifeless tongue was SDwly dropping with blood, and the sunken eyes ! ht I can’t speak of them; the sight was dread- : l 1. It was a chestnut horse with a long, thin nek. I saw a white streak down the forehead. Ipelieve it was Ginger; I hoped it was, for then hr troubles would be over. Chapter XLI THE BUTCHER I SAW a great deal of trouble among th horses in London, and much of it that mig]; have been prevented by a little comma sense. We horses do not mind hard work if vb are treated reasonably; and I am sure there a:j many driven by quite poor men who have a ha • pier life than I had, when I used to go in th Countess of W *s carriage, with my silv: mounted harness and high feeding. It often went to my heart to see how th little ponies were used, straining along wil heavy loads, or staggering under heavy blo^s from some low, cruel boy. Once I saw a litta gray pony with a thick mane and a pretty heal and so much like Merrylegs, that if I had nt been in harness, I should have neighed to hij He was doing his best to pull a heavy cart, whi a strong rough boy was cutting him under tl belly with his whip, and chucking cruelly at If little mouth. Could it be Merrylegs? It wl just like him; but then Mr. Blomefield was ne\i to sell him, and I think he would not do it. Bj this might have been quite as good a little f elloi- and had as happy a place when he was young.! 234 THE BUTCHER 235 I often noticed the great speed at which Catchers’ horses were made to go. I did not how why this was, till one day when we had to \ait some time in St. John’s Wood. There was a butcher’s shop next door, and as we were Sanding, a butcher’s cart came dashing up at A great pace. The horse was hot, and much exhausted; he hung his head down, while his having sides and trembling legs showed how lird he had been driven. The lad jumped out g the cart and was getting the basket, when the Master came out of the shop much displeased, /fter looking at the horse, he turned angrily to tje lad. J “How many times shall I tell you not to !dive in this way? You ruined the last horse d broke his wind, and you are going to ruin is in the same way. If you were not my own n, I would dismiss you on the spot; it is a dis- place to have a horse brought to the shop in a indition like that. You are liable to be taken by the police for such driving, and if you are, iu need not look to me for bail, for I have fken to you till I am tired; you must look out * yourself.” During this speech, the boy had stood by, len and dogged, but when his father ceased, broke out angrily. It wasn’t his fault, and 236 BLACK BEAUTY he wouldn’t take the blame, he was only goir by orders all the time. “You always say, ‘Now be quick; now loc sharp!’ and when I go to the houses one wan a leg of mutton for an early dinner, and I mu; be back with it in a quarter of an hou Another cook has forgotten to order the bee: I must go and fetch it and be back in no tim or the mistress will scold; and the housekeepc says they have company coming unexpectedl; and must have some chops sent up directl; The lady at No. 4, in the Crescent, never ordei her dinner till the meat comes in for lunch, an it’s nothing but hurry, hurry, all the time. ] the gentry would think of what they want, an order their meat the day before, there need nc be this blow up!” “I wish to goodness they would,” said th butcher, “ ’twould save me a wonderful deal c harass, and I could suit my customers much be' ter if I knew beforehand — But there! what’s th use of talking — who ever thinks of a butcher convenience, or a butcher’s horse? Now, thei take him in and look to him well. Mind, he doe not go out again today, and if anything else i wanted, you must carry it yourself in th basket.” With that he went in, and the hors was led away. THE BUTCHER 237 But all boys are not cruel. I have seen ome as fond of their pony or donkey as if it had een a favorite dog, and the little creatures have forked away as cheerfully and willingly for heir young drivers as I work for Jerry. It may e hard work sometimes, but a friend’s hand nd voice make it easy. There was a young coster boy who came up ur street with greens and potatoes. He had n old pony not very handsome, but the cheer- ulest and pluckiest little thing I ever saw, and b see how fond those two were of each other r as a treat. The pony followed his master like ! dog, and when he got into his cart, would trot ff without a whip or a word, and rattle down le street as merrily as if he had come out of the 'ueen’s stables. Jerry liked the boy, and called ]im “Prince Charlie,” for he said he would make ; king of drivers some day. There was an old man, too, who used to come our street with a little coal cart. He wore a bal-heaver’s hat, and looked rough and black, i e and his old horse used to plod together along lie street, like two good partners who under- wood each other. The horse would stop of his ( ! vn accord at the doors where they took coal tom him; he used to keep one ear bent toward I s master. The old man’s cry could be heard up 238 BLACK BEAUTY the street long before he came near. I neve knew what he said, but the children called hin “Old Ba-a-ar Hoo,” for it sounded like that Polly took her coal from him, and was ver; friendly, and Jerry said it was a comfort to thin! how happy an old horse might be in a poor place Chapter XLII THE ELECTION I AS WE came into the yard one afternoon, f\ Polly came out. “Jerry! Fve had Mr. B — here asking about your vote, and he wants 1) hire your cab for the election; he will call for «n answer.” “Well, Polly, you may say that my cab will b otherwise engaged. I should not like to have j pasted over with their great bills; and as to raking Jack and Captain race about to the Iiblic houses to bring up half-drunken voters, ^hy I think ’twould be an insult to the horses, lo, I sha’n’t do it.” “I suppose you’ll vote for the gentleman? le said he was of your politics.” “He is in some things, but I shall not vote i»r him, Polly; you know what his trade is?” “Yes.” “Well, a man who gets rich by that trade ray be all very well in some ways, but he is lind as to what workingmen want: I could r>t in my conscience send him up to make the 1 ws. I daresay they’ll be angry, but every man rust do what he thinks to be the best for his c untry.” 239 240 BLACK BEAUTY On the morning before the election, Jerr was putting me into the shafts, when Dolly cam into the yard sobbing and crying, with her littl blue frock and white pinafore spattered all ove with mud. “Why, Dolly, what is the matter?” “Those naughty boys,” she sobbed, “hav thrown the dirt all over me, and called me little raga — raga — ” “They called her a little ‘blue’ ragamuffir Father,” said Harry, who ran in looking ver; angry, “but I have given it to them; they won’ insult my sister again. I have given them : thrashing they will remember; a set of cowardl; rascally ‘orange’ blackguards!” Jerry kissed the child and said, “Run in t< mother, my pet, and tell her I think you hat better stay at home today and help her.” Then turning gravely to Harry, “My boy I hope you will always defend your sister, ant give anybody who insults her a good thrashing — that is as it should be; but mind, I won’t havi any election blackguarding on my premises There are as many ‘blue’ blackguards as then are ‘orange,’ and as many white as there art purple, or any other color, and I won’t have anj of my family mixed up with it. Even womer and children are ready to quarrel for the sake o: THE ELECTION 24] ; color, and not one in ten of them knows what i is about.” “Why, Father, I thought blue was for liberty.” “My boy, Liberty does not come from colors; hey only show party. All the liberty you can jet out of them is liberty to get drunk at other jeople’s expense, liberty to ride to the poll in a crty old cab, liberty to abuse anyone that does iot wear your color, and to shout yourself hoarse it what you only half understand — that’s your Jberty!” “Oh, Father, you are laughing.” “No, Harry, I am serious, and I am ashamed b see how men go on that ought to know better. |n election is a very serious thing; at least it (light to be, and every man ought to vote ac- ording to his conscience, and let his neighbor o the same.” Chapter XLIII A FRIEND IN NEED AT LAST came the election day; there was n lack of work for me and Jerry. First cam a stout, puffy gentleman with a carpel bag; he wanted to go to the Bishopsgate Statior Then we were called by a party who wished to b taken to the Regent’s Park; and next we wer wanted in a side street, where a timid, anxiou old lady was waiting to be taken to the banl There we had to stop to take her back again, an just as we had set her down a red-faced gentle man with a handful of papers came running u; out of breath, and before Jerry could get dow: he had opened the door, popped himself in, an called out, “Bow Street Police Station, quick ! : So off we went with him, and when after anothe turn or two we came back, there was no othe cab on the stand. Jerry put on my nose bag foi as he said, “We must eat when we can on sue] days as these; so munch away, Jack, and mak the best of your time, old boy.” I found I had a good feed of crushed oat wetted up with a little bran ; this would be a trea any day, but very refreshing then. J erry was s< 242 A FRIEND IN NEED 243 houghtful and kind — what horse would not do ds best for such a master? Then he took out ne of Polly’s meat pies, and began to eat it. The streets were very full, and the cabs, /ith the candidates’ colors on them, were dash- pg about through the crowd as if life and limb /ere of no consequence; we saw two people nocked down that day, and one was a woman, 'he horses were having a bad time of it, poor 'lings ! but the voters inside thought nothing of iat. Many of them were half drunk, hurrahing u in winter? I know Mary was rather anxious oout you last year.” 248 BLACK BEAUTY “Yes, ma’am, she was; I had a bad coug that followed me quite into the warm weathe] and when I am kept out late she does worr herself a good deal. You see, ma’am, it is a. hours and all weathers, and that does try man’s constitution. But I am getting on prett; well, and I should feel quite lost if I had no horses to look after. I was brought up to it, an« I am afraid I should not do so well at anythin] else.” “Well, Barker,” she said, “it would be ; great pity that you should seriously risk you health in this work, not only for your own, bu for Mary’s and the children’s sake. There an many places where good drivers or good groom are wanted; and if ever you think you ought ti give up this cab work let me know.” Then sending some kind messages to Mary she put something into his hand saying, “Then is five shillings each for the two children; Marj will know how to spend it.” Jerry thanked her and seemed mud pleased, and turning out of the station we at Iasi reached home, and I, at least, was tired. Chapter XLIV OLD CAPTAIN AND HIS SUCCESSOR f^lAPTAIN and I were great friends. He was L, a noble old fellow and was very good com- pany. I never thought he would have to eave his home and go down the hill, but his turn :ame; and this was how it happened. I was net here, but I heard all about it. He and Jerry had taken a party to the great Railway station over London Bridge, and were oming back, somewhere between the Bridge In d the Monument, when Jerry saw a brewer’s mpty dray coming along, drawn by two power- ul horses. The drayman was lashing his horses yith his heavy whip. The dray was light, and hey started off at a furious rate. The man had no control over them, and the treet was full of traffic. One young girl was mocked down and run over, and the next noment they dashed up against our cab; both he wheels were torn off and the cab was thrown >ver. Captain, was dragged down, the shafts plintered and one of them ran into his side, erry, too, was thrown, but was only bruised; 249 250 BLACK BEAUTY nobody could tell how he escaped; he always sail it was a miracle. When poor Captain was got up, he wa found to be very much cut and knocked about Jerry led him home gently, and a sad sight i was to see the blood soaking into his white coat and dropping from his side and shoulder. Th< drayman was proved to be very drunk, and wa: fined, and the brewer had to pay damages to ou: master; but there was no one to pay damages t( poor Captain. The farrier did the best he could to ease his pain and make him comfortable. The fly had tc be mended, and for several days I did not gc out, and Jerry earned nothing. The first time we went to the stand after the accident the Governor came up to hear how Captain was. “He’ll never get over it,” said Jerry, “at least not for my work; so the farrier said this morning. He says he may do for carting and that sort of work. It has put me out very much. Carting, indeed ! I’ve seen what horses come to at that work round London. I only wish that all the drunkards could be put in a lunatic asylum, instead of 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 OLD CAPTAIN 251 done; but it seems to me that the innocent dways suffer. “Then they talk about compensation! You :an’t make compensation; there’s all the trouble, md vexation, and loss of time, besides losing a rood horse that’s like an old friend — it’s non- lense talking of compensation! If there’s one ievil that I should like to see in the bottomless )it more than another it’s the drink devil.” “I say, Jerry,” said the Governor, “you are reading pretty hard on my toes, you know; I’m lot so good as you are, more shame for me; I vish I was.” “Why don’t you cut it, Governor? You are oo good a man to be the slave of such a thing.” “I’m a great fool, Jerry, but I tried it once :‘or two days, and I thought I should have died, low did you do?” “I had hard work at it for several weeks, fou see I never did get drunk, but I found that was not my own master, and that when the raving came on it was hard work to say ‘No.’ I aw that one of us must knock under, the drink tevil or Jerry Barker, and I said that it should lot be Jerry Barker, God helping me. “But it was a struggle, and I wanted all the telp I could get, for till I tried to break the habit did not know how strong it was; but then Polly 252 BLACK BEAUTY took great pains that I should have good food and when the craving came on I used to get a cuj of coffee, or some peppermint, or read a bit in m; book, and that was a help to me. Sometimes ' had to say over and over to myself : ‘Give up th< drink or lose your soul! Give up the drink 03 break Polly’s heart!’ but thanks be to God anc my wife, my chains were broken, and now for ter years I have not tasted a drop, and never wist for it.” “I’ve a great mind to try it,” said Grant “for ’tis a poor thing not to be one’s master.’ “Do, Governor, you’ll never repent it; and what a help it would be to some of the poor fellows in our rank if they saw you do without it. I know there are two or three would like to keep out of the tavern if they could.” At first Captain seemed to do well, but he was a very old horse, and it was only his wonder- ful constitution and Jerry’s care that had kept him 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. He thought the kindest thing he could do for the fine old fellow would be to put a sure bullet through his head, and OLD CAPTAIN 253 hen he would never suffer more, for he did not now where to find a kind master for the rest f his days. The day after this was decided, Harry took jie to the forge for some new shoes; when I returned,' Captain was gone. The family and I i;ll felt it very much. Jerry had now to look out for another horse, ;nd he soon heard of one through an acquaint- itice who was undergroom in a nobleman’s cables. He was a valuable young horse, but he lad run away, smashed into another carriage, lung his lordship out, and so cut and blemished limself that he was no longer fit for a gentle- nan’s stables, and the coachman had orders to Ink around and sell him as well as he could. “I could do with high spirits,” said Jerry, “if i horse is not vicious or hard-mouthed.” “There is not a bit of vice in him,” said the 1 an. “His mouth is very tender, and I think hat was the cause of the accident; he had just ben clipped, and the weather was bad, and he lid not had exercise enough, and when he did jo out he was as full of spring as a balloon. Our £)vernor (the coachman, I mean) , had him har- assed in as tight and strong as he could, with t e martingale, and the checkrein, a sharp curb, ad the reins put in at the bottom bar. It is my 254 BLACK BEAUTY belief that it made the horse mad, being tendr in the mouth and so full of spirit.” “Likely enough. I’ll come and see hiir’ said Jerry. The next day, Hotspur, for that was h name, came home. He was a fine, brown hors, without a white hair in him, as tall as Captai, with a very handsome head, and only five yeas old. I gave him a friendly greeting by way f good fellowship, but did not ask him any que- tions. The first night he was very restless. I- stead of lying down, he kept jerking his haltr rope up and down through the ring, and knoc- ing the block about against the manger tilll could not sleep. The next day, after five or six hours in t a cab, he came in quiet and sensible. Jerry patti and talked to him a good deal, and very soa they understood each other. Jerry said that wii an easy bit and plenty of work he would be s gentle as a lamb; and that it was an ill wind tht blew nobody good, for if his lordship had losta hundred-guinea favorite, the cabman had gainl a good horse with all his strength in him. Hotspur thought it a great comedown o be a cab horse and was disgusted at standing n the rank, but he confessed to me at the end i the week that an easy mouth and a free hec OLD CAPTAIN 255 rade up for a great deal, and, after all, the work vas not so degrading as having one’s head aid tail fastened to each other at the saddle. I fact, he settled in well, and Jerry liked him vry much. I i Chapter XLV JERRY’S NEW YEAR C HRISTMAS and the New Year are ver merry times for some people; but for ca- men and cabmen’s horses it is no holida, though it may be a harvest. There are so mar parties, balls, and places of amusement ope, that the work is hard and often late. Sometime driver and horse have to wait for hours in tb rain or frost, shivering with cold, while tb merry people within are dancing away to tb music. I wonder if the beautiful ladies ev: think of the weary cabman waiting on his bo, and his patient beast standing till his legs gt stiff with cold. I had now most of the evening work, as! was well accustomed to standing, and J erry w;$ also more afraid of Hotspur’s taking cold. W had a great deal of late work in the Christms week, and Jerry’s cough was bad; but, howevp late we were, Polly sat up for him, and came ot with a lantern to meet him, looking anxious ail troubled. On the evening of the New Year we had ) take two gentlemen to a house in one of the Wet 266 JERRY’S NEW YEAR 257 ]nd squares. We set them down at nine o’clock, ad were told to come again at eleven, “but,” aid one of them, “as it is a card party you may ]ave to wait a few minutes, but don’t be late.” As the clock struck eleven we were at the oor, for Jerry was always punctual. The clock aimed the quarter, one, two, three, and then sruck twelve, but the door did not open. The wind had been very changeable, with quails of rain during the day, but now it came (1 sharp, driving sleet, which seemed to come [11 the way round; it was very cold, and there fas no shelter. Jerry got off his box and came fed pulled one of my cloths a little more over iiy neck; then he took a turn or two up and own, stamping his feet; then he began to beat Ks arms, but that set him off coughing; so he oened the cab door and sat at the bottom with Is feet on the pavement, and was a little sheh ftred. Still the clock chimed the quarters, and id one came. At half-past twelve he rang the fell and asked the servant if he would be wanted hat night. “Oh, yes, you’ll be wanted safe enough,” aid the man, “you must not go, it will soon be i/er,” and again Jerry sat down, but his voice ’ as so hoarse I could hardly hear him. At a quarter-past one the door opened and 258 BLACK BEAUTY the two gentlemen came out. They got into U cab without a word and told Jerry where d drive; it was nearly two miles. My legs we 3 numb with cold, and I thought I should has stumbled. When the men got out they nevr said they were sorry to have kept us waiting d long, but were angry at the charge. Howeve, as Jerry never charged more than was his dr, he never took less, and they had to pay for t'3 two hours and a quarter waiting; but it ws hard-earned money to Jerry. At last he got home. He could hardly spea , and his cough was dreadful. Polly asked n questions, but opened the door and held tb lantern for him. “Can’t I do something?” she said. “Yes; get Jack something warm, and tha boil me some gruel.” This was said in a hoarse whisper, h could hardly get his breath, but he gave mei rubdown, as usual, and even went up into tb hayloft for an extra bundle of straw for my be. Polly brought me a warm mash that made m comfortable, and then they locked the door. It was late the next morning before anyou came, and then it was only Harry. He cleaned is and fed us, and swept out the stalls; then he pi the straw back again as if it was Sunday. B JERRY'S NEW YEAR 259 vis very still, and neither whistled nor sang. At Don he came again and gave us our food and viter. This time Dolly came with him; she was eying, and I could gather from what they said t at Jerry was dangerously ill, and the doctor sid it was a bad case. So two days passed, and tere was great trouble indoors. We only saw arry, and sometimes Dolly. I think she came jr company, for Polly was always with Jerry, Id he had to be kept very quiet. On the third day, while Harry was in the sable, a tap came at the door, and Governor Gant came in. “I wouldn't go to the house, my boy,” he sid, “but I want to know how your father is.” “He is very bad,” said Harry, “he can't be ruch worse. They call it ‘bronchitis'; the doctor tlinks it will turn one way or another tonight.” “That’s bad, very bad,” said Grant, shaking h? head, “I know two men who died of that last wek. It takes 'em off in no time; but while tfere’s life there’s hope, so you must keep up y.ur spirits.” “Yes,” said Harry, quickly, “and the doctor s; id that father had a better chance than most npn, because he didn’t drink. He said yesterday tb fever was so high, that if father had been a d inking man it would have burned him up like a 260 BLACK BEAUTY piece of paper; but he thinks he will get over „ Don’t you think he will, Mr. Grant?” The Governor looked puzzled. “If ther<3 any rule that good men should get over the 3 things, I am sure he will, my boy; he’s the bet man I know. I’ll look in early tomorrow.” Early next morning he was there. “Well?” said he. “Father is better,” said Harry. “Moth: thinks he will get over it.” “Thank God!” said the Governor, “and no' you must keep him warm, and keep his mill easy, and that brings me to the horses. You se, Jack will be all the better for the rest of a wee; or two in a warm stable, and you can easily tab him a turn up and down the street to stretch hi legs; but this young one, if he does not g; work, will soon be all up on end, as you may sa, and will be rather too much for you; and whe. he does go out, there’ll be an accident.” “It is like that now,” said Harry. “I hav kept him short of corn, but he’s so full of spin I don’t know what to do with him.” “Just so,” said Grant. “Now, look here, wi you tell your mother that, if she is agreeable, ’ will come for him every day until something arranged, and take him for a good spell of worl and whatever he earns, I’ll bring your mothe JERRY’S NEW YEAR 261 Ilf of it, and that will help with the horses’ fed. Your father is in a good club, I know, but ;at won’t keep the horses, and they’ll be eating jeir heads off all this time. I’ll come at noon Id hear what she says.” Without waiting for larry’s thanks, he was gone. At noon I think he went and saw Polly, for b and Harry came to the stable together, har- assed Hotspur, and took him out. For a week more he came for Hotspur, and when Harry tanked him or said anything about his kind- ss, he laughed it off, saying it was all good fck for him, for his horses were wanting a little rpt which they would not otherwise have had. Jerry grew better steadily, but the doctor s id that he must never go back to the cab work a ain if he wished to live to be an old man. The c ildren had many consultations together about Mat father and mother would do, and how they cold help to earn money. One afternoon Hotspur was brought in very Vit and dirty. , “The streets are nothing but slush,” said the Gvernor, “it will give you a good warming, my by, to get him clean and dry.” “All right, Governor,” said Harry, “I shall nt leave him till he is; you know I have been t: lined by my father.” 262 BLACK BEAUTY “I wish all the boys had been trained l:e you,” said the Governor. While Harry was sponging off the mud fr .11 Hotspur’s body and legs, Dolly came in, lookig very full of something. “Who lives at Fairstowe, Harry? Motbr has got a letter from Fairstowe; she seemed ;o glad, and ran upstairs to father with it.” “Don’t you know? Why, it is the namerf Mrs. Fowler’s place — mother’s old mistress, yu know — the lady that father met last summr,. who sent you and me five shillings each.” “Oh! Mrs. Fowler; of course I know abut her. I wonder what she is writing to mothr about.” “Mother wrote to her last week,” s;d Harry. “You know she told father if he evr gave up the cab work she would like to know. I wonder what she says; run in and see, Doll:” Harry scrubbed away at Hotspur witha huish! huish! like any old hostler. In a f.v minutes Dolly came dancing into the stable. “Oh! Harry, there never was anything 0 beautiful; Mrs. Fowler says we are all to go ad live near her. There is a cottage now empty tht will just suit us, with a garden and a hen hone and apple trees, and everything ! and her coach man is going away in the spring, and then se JERRY'S NEW YEAR 263 Vill want father in his place; and there are good fmilies round, where you can get a place in the girden, or the stable, or as a page boy. There’s a^ood school for me, too, and mother is laughing aid crying by turns, and father does look so ftppy!” '“That's uncommon jolly," said Harry, “and 1st the right thing, I should say; it will suit flther and mother both. But I don’t intend to U a page boy with tight clothes and rows of |pit buttons. I’ll be a groom or a gardener." It was quickly settled that as soon as Jerry ms well enough, they should remove to the chntry, and that the cab and horses should be sld as soon as possible. This was heavy news for me, for I was not yung now, and could not look for any improve- ment in my condition. Since I left Birtwick I had dver been so happy as with my master Jerry; b:t three years of cab work, even under the best Editions, will tell on one’s strength, and I felt ;ht I was not the horse that I had been. Grant said at once that he would take J)tspur; and there were men on the stand who : |uld have bought me, but Jerry said I should it go back to cab work again with just anybody, : (the Governor promised to find a place for me fll'ere I should be comfortable. 264 BLACK BEAUTY The day came for going away. Jerry hd not been allowed to go out yet, and I never s,,v him after that New Year’s eve. Polly and te children came to bid me good-by. “Poor old Jack! dear old Jack! I wish e could take you with us,” she said, and then layi her hand on my mane, she put her face close o my neck and kissed me. Dolly was crying ad kissed me, too. Harry stroked me a great del, but said nothing, only he seemed very sad, a:i so I was led away to my new place. fen ' PART IV Chapter XLVI JAKES AND THE LADY WAS sold to a corn dealer and baker, whom J. Jerry knew, and with him he thought I should have good food and fair work. In the f:st he was quite right, and if my master had aways been on the premises, I do not think I sould have been overloaded, but there was a f reman who was always hurrying and driving eery one. Frequently when I had quite a full load, he v)uld order something else to be taken on. My crter, whose name was Jakes, often said it was rure than I ought to take, but the other always o erruled him. “ ’Twas no use going twice when o.ce would do,” and he chose to get business frward. Jakes, like the other carters, always had the ceckrein up, which prevented me from draw- % easily, and by the time I had been there three c four months, I found the work telling very Each on my strength. One day, I was loaded more than usual, and Ef 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 271 272 BLACK BEAUTY it; and sometimes I was so fevered and won that I could hardly touch my food. How I usee to long for the nice bran mash with niter in i that Jerry used to give us on Saturday nights ir hot weather, that used to cool us down and mak( us so comfortable. Then we had two nights anc 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 drivei was just as hard as his master. He had a cruel whip with something sc sharp at the end that it sometimes drew blood, and he would even whip me under the belly, and flip the lash out at my head. Indignities like these took the heart out of me terribly, but still I did my best and never hung back, for, as poor Ginger said, it was no use; men are the stronger. My life was now so 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 come 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 expected in, so my driver pulled up at the back of some of the outside cabs, to take the chance of a return fare. It was a very heavy train, and as all the cabs were soon engaged, ours was called HARD TIMES 273 'or. There was a party of four; a noisy, bluster- ing man with a lady, a little boy, and a young girl, and a great deal of luggage. The lady and ;he boy got into the cab, and while the man ordered about the luggage, the young girl came md looked at me. “Papa,” she said, “I am sure this poor horse jannot take us and all our luggage so far, he is ;o very weak and worn out; do look at him.” “Oh! he’s all right, miss,” said my driver, ‘he’s strong enough.” The porter, who was pulling about some leavy boxes, suggested to the gentleman, as here was so much luggage, that he had better ake a second cab. “Can your horse do it, or can’t he?” said the flustering man. “Oh! he can do it all right, sir; send up the exes, porter; he could take more than that,” nd he helped to haul up a box so heavy that I ould feel the springs go down. “Papa, papa, do take a second cab,” said the oung girl beseechingly. “I am sure it is cruel.” “Nonsense, Grace; don’t make all this fuss. l pretty thing it would be if a man of business ad to examine every cab horse before he hired > — the man knows his own business. There, ’et in and hold your tongue!” 274 BLACK BEAUTY My gentle friend had to obey; and box afte box was lodged on the top of the cab, or settlet by the side of the driver. At last all was ready and with his usual jerk at the rein, and slash o the whip, he drove out of the station. The load was very heavy, and I had ha( neither food nor rest since morning; but I die my best, as I always had done, in spite of cruelt: and injustice. I got along fairly till we came to Ludgah Hill, but there the load and my own exhaustior were too much. I was struggling to keep on goaded by constant chucks of the rein and us( of the whip, when, in a single moment — I cannoi tell how — my feet slipped from under me; and 1 fell heavily to the ground on my side. The suddenness and the force with which 1 fell seemed to beat all the breath out of my body. I lay perfectly still; indeed, I had no power tc 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; ” Someone came and loosened the throat strap of my bridle, and undid the traces which kept the collar so tight upon me. Someone HARD TIMES 275 said, “He’s dead, he’ll never get up again.” Then I could hear a policeman giving orders, put I did not even open my eyes; I could only :Iraw a gasping breath now and then. Some 3old water was thrown over my head, and some iordial was poured into my mouth and something was covered over me. I cannot tell how long I lay there, but ~ found my life coming back, and a kind- voiced nan was patting me and encouraging me to rise. \fter some more cordial had been given me and ifter one or two attempts, I staggered to my f eet, and was gently led to some stables which vere close by. Here I was put into a yell-littered stall, and some warm gruel was >rought to me, which I drank thankfully. In the evening I was sufficiently recovered o be led back to Skinner’s stables, where I jhink they did the best for me they could. In he morning Skinner came with a farrier to look t me. He examined me very closely and said : “This is a case of overwork more than isease, and if you could give him a run off for ix months, he would be able to work again ; but ow there is not an ounce of strength in him.” “Then he must just go to the dogs,” said kinner. *T have no meadows to nurse sick orses in — he might get well or he might not. 276 BLACK BEAUTY That sort of thing don’t suit my business. M plan is to work ’em as long as they’ll go, an then sell ’em for what they’ll fetch at th knacker’s or elsewhere.” “If he was broken-winded,” said the farriei “you had better have him killed out of hanc but he is not. There is a sale of horses cominj off in about ten days; if you rest him and feei him up, he may pick up, and you may get mor than his skin is worth, at any rate.” Upon this advice, Skinner, rather unwill ingly, I think, gave orders that I should be wel fed and cared for, and the stableman, happil; for me, carried out the orders with a much bette: will than his master had in giving them. Ten days of perfect rest, plenty of goo( oats, hay, bran mashes, with boiled linseec mixed in them, did more to get up my conditioi than anything else could have done. Thos( linseed mashes were delicious, and I began t( think, after all, it might be better to live thar to go to the dogs. When the twelfth day aftei the accident came, I was taken to the sale, i few miles out of London. I felt that any chang( 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 AT THIS sale, of course, I found myself f\ in company with the old broken-down horses — some lame, some broken-winded, ome old, and some that I am sure it would have een merciful to shoot. The buyers, and sellers, too, many of them, )oked not much better off than the poor beasts ley were bargaining about. There were poor Id men trying to get a horse or pony for a few jounds, that might drag about some little wood coal cart. There were poor men trying to sell ; worn-out beast for two or three pounds, rather nan have the greater loss of killing him. Some of them looked as if poverty and hard lines had hardened them all over; but there ^re others that I would have willingly used lie last of my strength in serving — poor and nabby, but kind and humane, with voices that j could trust. There was one tottering old man hat took a great fancy to me, and I to him, but ] was not strong enough — it was an anxious ime! Coming from the better part of the fair, 277 19 278 BLACK BEAUTY I noticed a man who looked like a gentlema farmer, with a young boy by his side. He h;l a broad back and round shoulders, a kind, rudo face, and he wore a broad-brimmed hat. Who he came up to me and my companions he stod still and gave a pitiful look round upon us. I sai his eye rest on me. I had still a good mane ail tail, which did something for my appearanc. I pricked my ears and looked at him. “There’s a horse,” said Willie, “that h;s known better days. Poor old fellow!” said tb boy. “Do you think, Grandpa, he was ever t carriage horse?” “Oh, yes!” said the farmer, “he might hav been anything when he was young. Look at h; nostrils and his ears, the shape of his neck ar. shoulder; there’s a deal of breeding about tk; horse.” He put out his hand and gave me a kin pat on the neck. I put out my nose in answer 1 his kindness; the boy stroked my face. “Poor old fellow! See, Grandpapa, ho 1 well he understands kindness. Could not yo buy him and make him young again as you di with Ladybird?” “My dear boy, I can’t make old horse young; besides, Ladybird was not so old as sh was run down and badly used.” “Well, Grandpapa, I don’t believe that thi FARMER THOROUGHGOOD 279 ihe is old; look at his mane and tail. I wish you *ould look into his mouth, and then you could ill; though he is so very thin, his eyes are not unk like some old horses’.’' The old gentleman laughed. “Bless the by! he is as horsey as his old grandfather.” “But do look at his mouth, Grandpapa, and Me the price. I am sure he would grow strong in or meadows.” The man who had brought me for sale now jut in his word. “The young gentleman’s a real knowing tie, sir. Now the fact is, this ’ere horse is just jilled down with overwork in the cabs. He’s it an old one, and I heard as how the veterinary aid that a six months’ run off would set him ight up, being as how his wind was not broken, ke had the tending of him these ten days past, ad a gratefuler, pleasanter animal I never met \ith, and ’twould be worth a gentleman’s while t give a five-pound note for him and let him live a chance. I’ll be bound he’d be worth twenty pounds next spring.” The old gentleman laughed, and the little by looked up eagerly. “Oh, Grandpapa, did you not say the colt sld for five pounds more than you expected? hu would not be poorer if you did buy this one.” 280 BLACK BEAUTY The farmer felt my legs, which were muc swelled and strained; then he looked at m mouth. “Thirteen or fourteen, I should say just trot him out, will you?” I arched my poor thin neck, raised my ta a little, threw out my legs as well as I could, fo 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 pric my master set.” “ ’Tis a speculation,” said the old gentle man, shaking his head, but at the same tim slowly drawing out his purse, “quite a specula tion! Have you any more business here?” h 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 th< old gentleman seemed to enjoy his pleasure I had a good feed at the inn, and was then gentlj ridden home by a servant of my new master’s and turned into a large meadow with a shed ii one corner of it. Mr. Thoroughgood, for that was the nam( of my benefactor, gave orders that I should hav* FARMER THOROUGHGOOD 281 lay and oats every night and morning, and the •un of the meadow during the day. “You, Willie,” said he, “must take the oversight of lim; I give him in charge to you.” The boy was proud of his charge, and under- ook it in all seriousness. There was not a day hat he did not pay me a visit; sometimes picking ne out from among the other horses and giving ne a bit of carrot, or something good, or landing by while I ate my oats. He always :ame with kind words and caresses, and I grew v ery fond of him. He called me Old Crony, because I used to come to him in the field and ollow him about. Sometimes he brought his grandfather, who always looked closely at my sgs. “This is our point, Willie,” he would say; but he is improving so steadily that I think we hall see a change for the better in the spring.” The perfect rest, the good food, the soft urf and gentle exercise soon began to tell on my ondition and my spirits. I had a good constitu- ion from my mother and I was never strained /hen I was young, so that I had a better chance han many horses who have been worked before hey came to their full strength. During the winter my legs improved so luch that I began to feel quite young again. 282 BLACK BEAUTY The spring came around, and one day in Marc) Mr. Thoroughgood determined that he would tr; me in the phaeton. I was well pleased, and h and Willie drove me a few miles. My legs wer not stiff now, and I did the work with per fee ease. “He’s growing young, Willie; we must giv him a little gentle work now, and by midsumme he will be as good as Ladybird. He has a beauti ful mouth and good paces; they can’t be better. 5 “Oh, Grandpapa, how glad I am you bough him!” “So am I, my boy; but he has to thank yoi more than me. We must now be looking out fo: a quiet, genteel place for him, where he will b< valued.” Chapter XLIX MY LAST HOME D NE day, during this summer, the groom cleaned and dressed me with such ex- traordinary care that I thought some new hange must be at hand. He trimmed my etlocks and legs, passed the tar brush over my oofs, and even parted my forelock. I think the arness had an extra polish. Willie seemed nxious, half merry, as he got into the chaise nth his grandfather. “If the ladies take to him,” said the old entleman, “they’ll be suited and he’ll be suited; r e can but try.” At the distance of a mile or two from the illage we came to a pretty, low house, with a twn and shrubbery at the front and a drive up ) the door. Willie rang the bell and asked if liss Blomefield or Miss Ellen was at home. Yes, iey were. So, while Willie stayed with me, Mr. 'horoughgood went into the house. In about ten minutes he returned, followed W three ladies; one tall, pale lady, wrapped in ; white shawl, leaned on a younger lady, with •ark eyes and a merry face; the other, a very 283 284 BLACK BEAUTY stately looking person, was Miss Blomefield They all came and looked at me and asked ques tions. The young lady — that was Miss Ellen— took to me very much; she said she was sure sh< would like me, as I had such a good face. Th< tall, pale lady said she should always be nervous —riding behind a horse that had once beer down, as I might come down again, and if I die 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 1 see of this horse I should say that is his case; but, of course, I do not wish to influence you. If you desire, 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 a long way with me. If my sister Lavinia sees no objection, we will accept your offer of a trial, with thanks.” It was then arranged that I should be sent for the next day. In the morning a smart- looking young man came for me; at first he looked pleased; but when he saw my knees he said, “I don’t think, sir, you should have recom- mended my ladies a blemished horse like that.” MY LAST HOME 285 “ ‘Handsome is that handsome does/ ” said ny master. “You are only taking him on trial, and I am sure you will do fairly by him, young nan. If he is not as safe as any horse you ever Irove, send him back.” I was led to my new home, placed in a jomfortable stable, fed, and left to myself. The aext day, when my groom was cleaning my face, le said, “That is just like the star that ‘Black Beauty’ had; he is much the same height, too; I vonder where he is now?” A little farther on he came to the place in ny neck where I was bled, and where a little mot was left in the skin. He almost started, and began to look me over carefully, talking to umselfo “White star in the forehead, one white foot >n the off side, this little knot just in that place.” ?hen looking at the middle of my back — “and is I am alive, there is that little patch of white lair that John used to call ‘Beauty’s three-penny tit.’ It must be ‘Black Beauty!’ Why, Beauty! leauty! do you know me? Little Joe Green that Jmost killed you?” And he began patting and tatting me as if he was quite overjoyed. I could not say that I remembered him, for iow he was a fine, grown fellow, with black whiskers and a man’s voice, but I was sure he MY LAST HOME 287 knew me, and that he was Joe Green. I was very glad. I put my nose up to him and tried to say that we were friends. I never saw a man so pleased. “Give you a fair trial! 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 with my paces. I heard Joe tell- ing 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, “I 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 seemed quite safe, Miss Lavinia at last ventured out in a small close carriage. After this it was quite decided to keep me and call me by my old name of “Black Beauty.” 288 BLACK BEAUTY I have now lived in this happy place a whol year. Joe is the best and kindest of grooms My work is easy and pleasant, and I feel m: 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 sc I have nothing to fear; and here my story ends My troubles are all over, and I am at home; anc often before I am quite awake, I fancy I am still in the orchard at Birtwick, standing with my old friends under the apple trees. QUESTIONS FOR THOUGHT AND DISCUSSION chapters /-// What rules of conduct did his mother give Black Beauty when he was a little colt? What did the master do that helped Black Beauty to live up to these rules? Chapter III j Why must horses be broken in? What was Squire Gordon’s idea about breaking in a horse? Why is breaking in hard for a horse even under a kind trainer? chapters IV -V Which of Black Beauty’s new comrades do you like best? Which of them seem as well brought up as Black Beauty? lhapters VI-VII-VIII What reasons did Ginger give for her bad temper? Compare Ginger’s breaking in with Black Beauty’s. Why does the latter method bring the better results? Why was Ginger justified in resenting the use of a check- rein? Why did Merrylegs punish the boys, instead of excusing them because they were young and thoughtless? What do you think of John’s cure for a vicious horse? hapter IX What is your opinion of Sir Oliver’s reason for not dock- ing horses’ tails and not clipping dogs’ ears and tails? Find out if these practices are growing more frequent or less frequent. Study the animals on the street and at shows and fairs. I 289 QUESTIONS 290 Chapter X Why did the horses object to the use of blinkers? Do you think their reasons were poor or good? Is the use of blinkers increasing or decreasing? Chapter XI What new arguments against the use of the checkrein do you find in this chapter? Are they poor or good? Suppose an animal has formed a bad habit. Tell of a method that is better than punishment. Chapter XII The newspapers often contain true stories of horses, and even of cats and dogs, saving their masters’ lives by “sensing” a danger of which the master was unaware. Watch for such stories. Chapter XIII Why was John justified in telling Bill’s father of his cruelty? Chapters XIV-XV What facts in these chapters, and in the chapters before these, prove that the old hostler was right when he said: “Give me the handling of a horse for twenty minutes, and I’ll tell you what sort of a groom he has had.” Chapter XVI Now that you have read this chapter, what do you think is the thing to do to get a horse out of a burning building? How can the horse be kept calm? Chapters XVII-XVIII-XIX What do these chapters teach you about the care of a horse? Make a list of the right things to do in caring for a horse. QUESTIONS 291 Chapter XX Can you see why it was a manly thing for Joe to report the driver of the cart, and to be a witness against him and to bring about his punishment? Find out how to get the cooperation of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, or of any other society organized for the same purpose, when you feel the need of assistance in putting a stop to cruelty to animals. Chapters XXII-XXIII In what way do these chapters prove the truth of the story Ginger told Black Beauty when they first met? Chapters XXIV-XXV-XXVI What does the story of Lady Anne, and the story of Reuben bring to light? Explain why a horse needs a “good character” reference just as much as a person does. i Chapters XXV II -XXV I II -XXIX Name all the things which Black Beauty felt would make life easier for a work horse. Chapter XXX What is the right food for a horse? What happens when his food is not properly mixed? Chapter XXXI What are right living conditions for a horse? How do they differ from the right living conditions for a dog? Who is most dependent on his owner for physical cleanli- ness — a horse, a dog, or a cat? How can a horse be kept clean and healthy? '■hapter XXXII What is the difference between a horse show and a horse fair? j 292 QUESTIONS What is the difference between the horses that appear & the show and those that are shown at the fair? Chapter XXXIII What good suggestions about the care of horses do you fine in this chapter? Would they be useful in the care o: a dog or a cat? Chapter XXXIV What impressed you most in Captain’s story? Chapters XXXV-XXXVI What do you think of Jerry’s idea that horses as well as drivers should rest one day in seven? Chapter XXXVII Why did Black Beauty not mind losing his day of rest? Chapter XXXVIII Do you agree or disagree with the gentleman’s statemenl that “if we see cruelty or wrong that we have the power to stop, and do nothing, we make ourselves sharers in the guilt”? Give reasons for your answer, Chapter XXXIX What is your feeling about Seedy Sam? Give reasons for your answer. Chapter XL Who was to blame for the misfortunes that befell Ginger? Chapters XLI-XLII-XLIII Make a list of the things which the butcher’s boy thought his customers could do to make the life of a horse easier. Add to the list anything which you think customers could do to improve the lot of the horse and his driver. Chapter XLIV Why did Hotspur run away? Why did he not regret becoming a cab horse? QUESTIONS 293 Chapter XLV What impresses you most in this chapter? chapters XLV I -XLV II Make a list of little things that people can do to make a horse’s life easier. Chapters XLVIII-XLIX Did Black Beauty deserve the fate that befell him? Why was he able to stand so much hardship and sadness? What are the qualities of a good horse? Build up a list of good qualities that a driver should have. GLOSSARY Page 2, line 16 — Newmarket: a town in Suffolk, England, where horse races are held in April, May, July, Septem- ber, and October; 1500 to 2000 horses are usually trained there. Page 3, line 11 — gig: (gig), a light two- wheeled one-horse carriage. Page 8, line 19 — farrier: (far'i-er), one who shoes a horse; a veteri- narian; a non-commissioned officer in charge of the army horses. Page 11, line 4 — chaise: (shaz), pleasure or traveling carriage, usually low, four-wheeled open, with one or two ponies. Page 11, line 18 — bit: (bit), the mouthpiece of a bridle. Page 16, line 20 — paddock: (pad'uk), a stable yard where horses are exercised; a small field for pasture. Page 26, line 6 — cob: (kob), a stout, short-legged riding horse. Page 39, line 13 — Tattersall’s : a market where horses were auctioned off. It was set up in 1766 by Richard Tattersall, an auctioneer in horses. Page 43, line 1 — vicar: (vik'er), a clergyman. Page 49, line 4 — hand: a unit used in measuring a horse. In our vernacular it is equal to four inches or the sup- posed width of a palm. Page 50, line 12 — gag bit: (gag' bit), a specially powerful bit used in horse breaking. Page 60, line 27 — brake: (brak), a kind of small four-wheeled pleasure wagon. Page 63, line 3 — dogcart: (dog'kart), a two-wheeled cart with cross seats back to back. 295 GLOSSARY 296 Page 77, line 22 — the box: (boks), the driver’s seat: so called from the box under it. Page 79, line 1 — hostler: (hosier), one who takes care of horses at an inn or stable. Page 81, line 6 — Goodwood: a famous English racetrack. Page 117, line 3 — vicarage: (vik'er-&j), home of a vicar or a minis ter. Page 123, line 16 — terret: (ter'et), a loop or ring on a harness pad for driving reins to pass through. Page 138, line 24 — brougham: (broo'um, broom or bro'hm), a one- horse closed carriage. Page 146, line 5 — caustic: (kos'tik), a substance which bums. Page 148, line 2 — steeplechase: (ste'pl-chas"), a cross-country horse race. Page 149, line 11 — Bath: (bath), a town in England, noted for its hot springs. Page 154, line 28 — frog of the foot: the elastic homy substance in the middle of the sole of a horse’s hoof. Page 158, line 1 — cockneys: (kok'niz), one born within sound of the bells of Bow Church, Cheapside, London; a Lon- doner; a native of London living in the East End and having a certain characteristic dialect. Page 183, line 22 — Crimean War: the conflict of 1854-56 between Russia on the one side, and Turkey, France, England, and Sardinia on the other. It was fought in the Crimea, a peninsula in Southern Russia. Page 184, line 28 — snaffle: (snaf'l), a horse’s bit. Page 185, line 14 — rank: (rangk), a row of cabs, standing in line. Page 202, line 2 — Cheapside : a street in London. Page 221, line 27 — Clapham Rise: a section of London. GLOSSARY 29 ? Page 235, line 3 — St. John’s Wood: a section of London. Page 237, line 8 — coster boy: (kbs'ter boi), a boy who peddled vege- tables. Page 253, line 27 — martingale: (mar'tin-gal), a strap in a horse’s har- ness, connecting the bridle or reins to the breast strap or girth, to keep the horse’s head down. Page 254, line 23 — guinea: (gin'i), a British money value equal to 21 shillings. Page 270, line 5 — purblind: (pur'blind"), almost blind; seeing dimly.