Black Beauty Essay Research Paper The Project

Black Beauty Essay, Research Paper

**The Project Gutenberg Etext of Black Beauty, by Anna Sewell**

Please take a look at the important information in this header.

We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an

electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this.

**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**

**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**

*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations*

Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and

further information is included below. We need your donations.

Black Beauty

by Anna Sewell [English Quaker -- 1820-1878.]

May, 1995 [Etext #271]

entered/proofed by A. Light, of Waxhaw **

Proofed by Linda Bowser

**The Project Gutenberg Etext of Black Beauty, by Anna Sewell**

******This file should be named bbeau10.txt or*****

Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, bbeau11.txt

VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, bbeau10a.txt

We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance

of the official release dates, for time for better editing.

The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at

Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A

preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment

and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an

up to date first edition [] please check file sizes

in the first week of the next month. Since our ftp program has

a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a

look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a

new copy has at least one byte more or less.

Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)

We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The

fifty hours is one conservative estimate for how long it we take

to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright

searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This

projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value

per text is nominally estimated at one dollar, then we produce 2

million dollars per hour this year we, will have to do four text

files per month: thus upping our productivity from one million.

The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext

Files by the December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000=Trillion]

This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,

which is 10% of the expected number of computer users by the end

of the year 2001.

We need your donations more than ever!

All donations should be made to “Project Gutenberg/IBC”, and are

tax deductible to the extent allowable by law (”IBC” is Illinois

Benedictine College). (Subscriptions to our paper newsletter go

to IBC, too)

For these and other matters, please mail to:

Project Gutenberg

P. O. Box 2782

Champaign, IL 61825

When all other email fails try our Michael S. Hart, Executive

Director: (internet) hart@uiucvmd (bitnet)

We would prefer to send you this information by email

(Internet, Bitnet, Compuserve, ATTMAIL or MCImail).


If you have an FTP program (or emulator), please

FTP directly to the Project Gutenberg archives:

[Mac users, do NOT point and click. . .type]


login: anonymous

password: your@login

cd etext/etext91

or cd etext92

or cd etext93 [for new books] [now also in cd etext/etext93]

or cd etext/articles [get suggest gut for more information]

dir [to see files]

get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files]

get INDEX100.GUT

get INDEX200.GUT

for a list of books


get NEW.GUT for general information


mget GUT* for newsletters.

**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor**

(Three Pages)


Why is this “Small Print!” statement here? You know: lawyers.

They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with

your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from

someone other than us, and even if what’s wrong is not our

fault. So, among other things, this “Small Print!” statement

disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how

you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to.


By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm

etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept

this “Small Print!” statement. If you do not, you can receive

a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by

sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person

you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical

medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.



tm etexts, is a “public domain” work distributed by Professor

Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at

Illinois Benedictine College (the “Project”). Among other

things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright

on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and

distribute it in the United States without permission and

without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth

below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext

under the Project’s “PROJECT GUTENBERG” trademark.

To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable

efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain

works. Despite these efforts, the Project’s etexts and any

medium they may be on may contain “Defects”. Among other

things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or

corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other

intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged

disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer

codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.


But for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described below,

[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this

etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all

liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including






If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of

receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)

you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that

time to the person you received it from. If you received it

on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and

such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement

copy. If you received it electronically, such person may

choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to

receive it electronically.






Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or

the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the

above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you

may have other legal rights.


You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors,

officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost

and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or

indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause:

[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification,

or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect.


You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by

disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this

“Small Print!” and all other references to Project Gutenberg,


[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this

requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the

etext or this “small print!” statement. You may however,

if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable

binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,

including any form resulting from conversion by word pro-

cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as


[*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and

does *not* contain characters other than those

intended by the author of the work, although tilde

(~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may

be used to convey punctuation intended by the

author, and additional characters may be used to

indicate hypertext links; OR

[*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at

no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent

form by the program that displays the etext (as is

the case, for instance, with most word processors);


[*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at

no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the

etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC

or other equivalent proprietary form).

[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this

“Small Print!” statement.

[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the

net profits you derive calculated using the method you

already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you

don’t derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are

payable to “Project Gutenberg Association / Illinois

Benedictine College” within the 60 days following each

date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare)

your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return.


The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time,

scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty

free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution

you can think of. Money should be paid to “Project Gutenberg

Association / Illinois Benedictine College”.

This “Small Print!” by Charles B. Kramer, Attorney

Internet (; TEL: (212-254-5093)


Black Beauty

by Anna Sewell [English Quaker -- 1820-1878.]

[Note: `Black Beauty' was originally published in 1877.

This etext was transcribed from an American edition of 1911.

Some small corrections were made, after being confirmed

against other sources.]

Black Beauty

The Autobiography of a Horse

by Anna Sewell

To my dear and honored Mother,

whose life, no less than her pen,

has been devoted to the welfare of others,

this little book is affectionately dedicated.


Part I


01 My Early Home

02 The Hunt

03 My Breaking In

04 Birtwick Park

05 A Fair Start

06 Liberty

07 Ginger

08 Ginger’s Story Continued

09 Merrylegs

10 A Talk in the Orchard

11 Plain Speaking

12 A Stormy Day

13 The Devil’s Trade Mark

14 James Howard

15 The Old Hostler

16 The Fire

17 John Manly’s Talk

18 Going for the Doctor

19 Only Ignorance

20 Joe Green

21 The Parting

Part II

22 Earlshall

23 A Strike for Liberty

24 The Lady Anne, or a Runaway Horse

25 Reuben Smith

26 How it Ended

27 Ruined and Going Downhill

28 A Job Horse and His Drivers

29 Cockneys

30 A Thief

31 A Humbug

Part III

32 A Horse Fair

33 A London Cab Horse

34 An Old War Horse

35 Jerry Barker

36 The Sunday Cab

37 The Golden Rule

38 Dolly and a Real Gentleman

39 Seedy Sam

40 Poor Ginger

41 The Butcher

42 The Election

43 A Friend in Need

44 Old Captain and His Successor

45 Jerry’s New Year

Part IV

46 Jakes and the Lady

47 Hard Times

48 Farmer Thoroughgood and His Grandson Willie

49 My Last Home

Black Beauty

Part I

01 My Early Home

The first place that I can well remember was a large pleasant meadow

with a pond of clear water in it. Some shady trees leaned over it,

and rushes and water-lilies grew at the deep end. Over the hedge on one side

we looked into a plowed field, and on the other we looked over a gate

at our master’s house, which stood by the roadside; at the top of the meadow

was a grove of fir trees, and at the bottom a running brook

overhung by a steep bank.

While I was young I lived upon my mother’s milk, as I could not eat grass.

In the daytime I ran by her side, and at night I lay down close by her.

When it was hot we used to stand by the pond in the shade of the trees,

and when it was cold we had a nice warm shed near the grove.

As soon as I was old enough to eat grass my mother used to go out to work

in the daytime, and come back in the evening.

There were six young colts in the meadow besides me;

they were older than I was; some were nearly as large as grown-up horses.

I used to run with them, and had great fun; we used to gallop all together

round and round the field as hard as we could go. Sometimes we had

rather rough play, for they would frequently bite and kick as well as gallop.

One day, when there was a good deal of kicking, my mother whinnied to me

to come to her, and then she said:

“I wish you to pay attention to what I am going to say to you.

The colts who live here are very good colts, but they are cart-horse colts,

and of course they have not learned manners. You have been

well-bred and well-born; your father has a great name in these parts,

and your grandfather won the cup two years at the Newmarket races;

your grandmother had the sweetest temper of any horse I ever knew,

and I think you have never seen me kick or bite. I hope you will grow up

gentle and good, and never learn bad ways; do your work with a good will,

lift your feet up well when you trot, and never bite or kick even in play.”

I have never forgotten my mother’s advice; I knew she was a wise old horse,

and our master thought a great deal of her. Her name was Duchess,

but he often called her Pet.

Our master was a good, kind man. He gave us good food, good lodging,

and kind words; he spoke as kindly to us as he did to his little children.

We were all fond of him, and my mother loved him very much.

When she saw him at the gate she would neigh with joy, and trot up to him.

He would pat and stroke her and say, “Well, old Pet,

and how is your little Darkie?” I was a dull black, so he called me Darkie;

then he would give me a piece of bread, which was very good,

and sometimes he brought a carrot for my mother. All the horses

would come to him, but I think we were his favorites.

My mother always took him to the town on a market day in a light gig.

There was a plowboy, Dick, who sometimes came into our field

to pluck blackberries from the hedge. When he had eaten all he wanted

he would have what he called fun with the colts, throwing stones and sticks

at them to make them gallop. We did not much mind him,

for we could gallop off; but sometimes a stone would hit and hurt us.

One day he was at this game, and did not know that the master

was in the next field; but he was there, watching what was going on;

over the hedge he jumped in a snap, and catching Dick by the arm,

he gave him such a box on the ear as made him roar

with the pain and surprise. As soon as we saw the master

we trotted up nearer to see what went on.

“Bad boy!” he said, “bad boy! to chase the colts. This is not

the first time, nor the second, but it shall be the last. There –

take your money and go home; I shall not want you on my farm again.”

So we never saw Dick any more. Old Daniel, the man who looked after

the horses, was just as gentle as our master, so we were well off.

02 The Hunt

Before I was two years old a circumstance happened

which I have never forgotten. It was early in the spring;

there had been a little frost in the night, and a light mist

still hung over the woods and meadows. I and the other colts were feeding

at the lower part of the field when we heard, quite in the distance,

what sounded like the cry of dogs. The oldest of the colts raised his head,

pricked his ears, and said, “There are the hounds!” and immediately

cantered off, followed by the rest of us to the upper part of the field,

where we could look over the hedge and see several fields beyond.

My mother and an old riding horse of our master’s were also standing near,

and seemed to know all about it.

“They have found a hare,” said my mother, “and if they come this way

we shall see the hunt.”

And soon the dogs were all tearing down the field of young wheat

next to ours. I never heard such a noise as they made. They did not bark,

nor howl, nor whine, but kept on a “yo! yo, o, o! yo! yo, o, o!”

at the top of their voices. After them came a number of men on horseback,

some of them in green coats, all galloping as fast as they could.

The old horse snorted and looked eagerly after them,

and we young colts wanted to be galloping with them,

but they were soon away into the fields lower down;

here it seemed as if they had come to a stand; the dogs left off barking,

and ran about every way with their noses to the ground.

“They have lost the scent,” said the old horse; “perhaps the hare

will get off.”

“What hare?” I said.

“Oh! I don’t know what hare; likely enough it may be one of our own hares

out of the woods; any hare they can find will do for the dogs and men

to run after;” and before long the dogs began their “yo! yo, o, o!” again,

and back they came altogether at full speed, making straight for our meadow

at the part where the high bank and hedge overhang the brook.

“Now we shall see the hare,” said my mother; and just then

a hare wild with fright rushed by and made for the woods.

On came the dogs; they burst over the bank, leaped the stream,

and came dashing across the field followed by the huntsmen.

Six or eight men leaped their horses clean over, close upon the dogs.

The hare tried to get through the fence; it was too thick,

and she turned sharp round to make for the road, but it was too late;

the dogs were upon her with their wild cries; we heard one shriek,

and that was the end of her. One of the huntsmen rode up

and whipped off the dogs, who would soon have torn her to pieces.

He held her up by the leg torn and bleeding, and all the gentlemen

seemed well pleased.

As for me, I was so astonished that I did not at first see what was going on

by the brook; but when I did look there was a sad sight;

two fine horses were down, one was struggling in the stream,

and the other was groaning on the grass. One of the riders

was getting out of the water covered with mud, the other lay quite still.

“His neck is broke,” said my mother.

“And serve him right, too,” said one of the colts.

I thought the same, but my mother did not join with us.

“Well, no,” she said, “you must not say that; but though I am an old horse,

and have seen and heard a great deal, I never yet could make out

why men are so fond of this sport; they often hurt themselves,

often spoil good horses, and tear up the fields, and all for a hare or a fox,

or a stag, that they could get more easily some other way;

but we are only horses, and don’t know.”

While my mother was saying this we stood and looked on.

Many of the riders had gone to the young man; but my master,

who had been watching what was going on, was the first to raise him.

His head fell back and his arms hung down, and every one looked very serious.

There was no noise now; even the dogs were quiet, and seemed to know

that something was wrong. They carried him to our master’s house.

I heard afterward that it was young George Gordon, the squire’s only son,

a fine, tall young man, and the pride of his family.

There was now riding off in all directions to the doctor’s, to the farrier’s,

and no doubt to Squire Gordon’s, to let him know about his son.

When Mr. Bond, the farrier, came to look at the black horse

that lay groaning on the grass, he felt him all over, and shook his head;

one of his legs was broken. Then some one ran to our master’s house

and came back with a gun; presently there was a loud bang

and a dreadful shriek, and then all was still; the black horse moved no more.

My mother seemed much troubled; she said she had known that horse for years,

and that his name was “Rob Roy”; he was a good horse, and there was

no vice in him. She never would go to that part of the field afterward.

Not many days after we heard the church-bell tolling for a long time,

and looking over the gate we saw a long, strange black coach

that was covered with black cloth and was drawn by black horses;

after that came another and another and another, and all were black,

while the bell kept tolling, tolling. They were carrying young Gordon

to the churchyard to bury him. He would never ride again.

What they did with Rob Roy I never knew; but ’twas all for one little hare.

03 My Breaking In

I was now beginning to grow handsome; my coat had grown fine and soft,

and was bright black. I had one white foot and a pretty white star

on my forehead. I was thought very handsome; my master would not sell me

till I was four years old; he said lads ought not to work like men,

and colts ought not to work like horses till they were quite grown up.

When I was four years old Squire Gordon came to look at me.

He examined my eyes, my mouth, and my legs; he felt them all down;

and then I had to walk and trot and gallop before him.

He seemed to like me, and said, “When he has been well broken in

he will do very well.” My master said he would break me in himself,

as he should not like me to be frightened or hurt,

and he lost no time about it, for the next day he began.

Every one may not know what breaking in is, therefore I will describe it.

It means to teach a horse to wear a saddle and bridle,

and to carry on his back a man, woman or child; to go just the way they wish,

and to go quietly. Besides this he has to learn to wear a collar, a crupper,

and a breeching, and to stand still while they are put on;

then to have a cart or a chaise fixed behind, so that he cannot walk or trot

without dragging it after him; and he must go fast or slow,

just as his driver wishes. He must never start at what he sees,

nor speak to other horses, nor bite, nor kick, nor have any will of his own;

but always do his master’s will, even though he may be very tired or hungry;

but the worst of all is, when his harness is once on,

he may neither jump for joy nor lie down for weariness.

So you see this breaking in is a great thing.

I had of course long been used to a halter and a headstall,

and to be led about in the fields and lanes quietly,

but now I was to have a bit and bridle; my master gave me some oats as usual,

and after a good deal of coaxing he got the bit into my mouth,

and the bridle fixed, but it was a nasty thing! Those who have never had

a bit in their mouths cannot think how bad it feels;

a great piece of cold hard steel as thick as a man’s finger

to be pushed into one’s mouth, between one’s teeth, and over one’s tongue,

with the ends coming out at the corner of your mouth,

and held fast there by straps over your head, under your throat,

round your nose, and under your chin; so that no way in the world

can you get rid of the nasty hard thing; it is very bad! yes, very bad!

at least I thought so; but I knew my mother always wore one

when she went out, and all horses did when they were grown up;

and so, what with the nice oats, and what with my master’s pats,

kind words, and gentle ways, I got to wear my bit and bridle.

Next came the saddle, but that was not half so bad;

my master put it on my back very gently, while old Daniel held my head;

he then made the girths fast under my body, patting and talking to me

all the time; then I had a few oats, then a little leading about;

and this he did every day till I began to look for the oats and the saddle.

At length, one morning, my master got on my back and rode me round the meadow

on the soft grass. It certainly did feel queer; but I must say

I felt rather proud to carry my master, and as he continued to ride me

a little every day I soon became accustomed to it.

The next unpleasant business was putting on the iron shoes; that too

was very hard at first. My master went with me to the smith’s forge,

to see that I was not hurt or got any fright. The blacksmith took my feet

in his hand, one after the other, and cut away some of the hoof.

It did not pain me, so I stood still on three legs till he had done them all.

Then he took a piece of iron the shape of my foot, and clapped it on,

and drove some nails through the shoe quite into my hoof,

so that the shoe was firmly on. My feet felt very stiff and heavy,

but in time I got used to it.

And now having got so far, my master went on to break me to harness;

there were more new things to wear. First, a stiff heavy collar

just on my neck, and a bridle with great side-pieces against my eyes

called blinkers, and blinkers indeed they were, for I could not see

on either side, but only straight in front of me; next,

there was a small saddle with a nasty stiff strap that went

right under my tail; that was the crupper. I hated the crupper;

to have my long tail doubled up and poked through that strap

was almost as bad as the bit. I never felt more like kicking,

but of course I could not kick such a good master, and so in time

I got used to everything, and could do my work as well as my mother.

I must not forget to mention one part of my training,

which I have always considered a very great advantage.

My master sent me for a fortnight to a neighboring farmer’s,

who had a meadow which was skirted on one side by the railway.

Here were some sheep and cows, and I was turned in among them.

I shall never forget the first train that ran by. I was feeding quietly

near the pales which separated the meadow from the railway,

when I heard a strange sound at a distance, and before I knew whence it came

– with a rush and a clatter, and a puffing out of smoke –

a long black train of something flew by, and was gone almost before I could

draw my breath. I turned and galloped to the further side of the meadow

as fast as I could go, and there I stood snorting with astonishment and fear.

In the course of the day many other trains went by, some more slowly;

these drew up at the station close by, and sometimes made

an awful shriek and groan before they stopped. I thought it very dreadful,

but the cows went on eating very quietly, and hardly raised their heads

as the black frightful thing came puffing and grinding past.

For the first few days I could not feed in peace; but as I found

that this terrible creature never came into the field, or did me any harm,

I began to disregard it, and very soon I cared as little

about the passing of a train as the cows and sheep did.

Since then I have seen many horses much alarmed and restive

at the sight or sound of a steam engine; but thanks to my good master’s care,

I am as fearless at railway stations as in my own stable.

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

My master often drove me in double harness with my mother,

because she was steady and could teach me how to go

better than a strange horse. She told me the better I behaved

the better I should be treated, and that it was wisest always to do my best

to please my master; “but,” said she, “there are a great many kinds of men;

there are good thoughtful men like our master, that any horse

may be proud to serve; and there are bad, cruel men,

who never ought to have a horse or dog to call their own. Besides,

there are a great many foolish men, vain, ignorant, and careless,

who never trouble themselves to think; these spoil more horses than all,

just for want of sense; they don’t mean it, but they do it for all that.

I hope you will fall into good hands; but a horse never knows

who may buy him, or who may drive him; it is all a chance for us;

but still I say, do your best wherever it is, and keep up your good name.”

04 Birtwick Park

At this time I used to stand in the stable and my coat was brushed every day

till it shone like a rook’s wing. It was early in May, when there came a man

from Squire Gordon’s, who took me away to the hall. My master said,

“Good-by, Darkie; be a good horse, and always do your best.”

I could not say “good-by”, so I put my nose into his hand;

he patted me kindly, and I left my first home. As I lived some years

with Squire Gordon, I may as well tell something about the place.

Squire Gordon’s park skirted the village of Birtwick.

It was entered by a large iron gate, at which stood the first lodge,

and then you trotted along on a smooth road between clumps

of large old trees; then another lodge and another gate,

which brought you to the house and the gardens. Beyond this lay

the home paddock, the old orchard, and the stables. There was accommodation

for many horses and carriages; but I need only describe the stable

into which I was taken; this was very roomy, with four good stalls;

a large swinging window opened into the yard, which made it pleasant and airy.

The first stall was a large square one, shut in behind with a wooden gate;

the others were common stalls, good stalls, but not nearly so large;

it had a low rack for hay and a low manger for corn;

it was called a loose box, because the horse that was put into it

was not tied up, but left loose, to do as he liked. It is a great thing

to have a loose box.

Into this fine box the groom put me; it was clean, sweet, and airy.

I never was in a better box than that, and the sides were not so high

but that I could see all that went on through the iron rails

that were at the top.

He gave me some very nice oats, he patted me, spoke kindly,

and then went away.

When I had eaten my corn I looked round. In the stall next to mine

stood a little fat gray pony, with a thick mane and tail, a very pretty head,

and a pert little nose.

I put my head up to the iron rails at the top of my box, and said,

“How do you do? What is your name?”

He turned round as far as his halter would allow, held up his head, and said,

“My name is Merrylegs. I am very handsome; I carry the young ladies

on my back, and sometimes I take our mistress out in the low chair.

They think a great deal of me, and so does James. Are you going to live

next door to me in the box?”

I said, “Yes.”

“Well, then,” he said, “I hope you are good-tempered;

I do not like any one next door who bites.”

Just then a horse’s head looked over from the stall beyond;

the ears were laid back, and the eye looked rather ill-tempered.

This was a tall chestnut mare, with a long handsome neck.

She looked across to me and said:

“So it is you who have turned me out of my box; it is a very strange thing

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

“I beg your pardon,” I said, “I have turned no one out;

the man who brought me put me here, and I had nothing to do with it;

and as to my being a colt, I am turned four years old and am

a grown-up horse. I never had words yet with horse or mare,

and it is my wish to live at peace.”

“Well,” she said, “we shall see. Of course, I do not want to have words

with a young thing like you.” I said no more.

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

“The thing is this,” said Merrylegs. “Ginger has a bad habit

of biting and snapping; that is why they call her Ginger,

and when she was in the loose box she used to snap very much.

One day she bit James in the arm and made it bleed,

and so Miss Flora and Miss Jessie, who are very fond of me,

were afraid to come into the stable. They used to bring me

nice things to eat, an apple or a carrot, or a piece of bread,

but after Ginger stood in that box they dared not come,

and I missed them very much. I hope they will now come again,

if you do not bite or snap.”

I told him I never bit anything but grass, hay, and corn,

and could not think what pleasure Ginger found it.

“Well, I don’t think she does find pleasure,” says Merrylegs;

“it is just a bad habit; she says no one was ever kind to her,

and why should she not bite? Of course, it is a very bad habit;

but I am sure, if all she says be true, she must have been very ill-used

before she came here. John does all he can to please her,

and James does all he can, and our master never uses a whip

if a horse acts right; so I think she might be good-tempered here.

You see,” he said, with a wise look, “I am twelve years old;

I know a great deal, and I can tell you there is not a better place

for a horse all round the country than this. John is the best groom

that ever was; he has been here fourteen years; and you never saw

such a kind boy as James is; so that it is all Ginger’s own fault

that she did not stay in that box.”

05 A Fair Start

The name of the coachman was John Manly; he had a wife and one little child,

and they lived in the coachman’s cottage, very near the stables.

The next morning he took me into the yard and gave me a good grooming,

and just as I was going into my box, with my coat soft and bright,

the squire came in to look at me, and seemed pleased.

“John,” he said, “I meant to have tried the new horse this morning,

but I have other business. You may as well take him around after breakfast;

go by the common and the Highwood, and back by the watermill and the river;

that will show his paces.”

“I will, sir,” said John. After breakfast he came and fitted me

with a bridle. He was very particular in letting out and taking in

the straps, to fit my head comfortably; then he brought a saddle,

but it was not broad enough for my back; he saw it in a minute

and went for another, which fitted nicely. He rode me first slowly,

then a trot, then a canter, and when we were on the common

he gave me a light touch with his whip, and we had a splendid gallop.

“Ho, ho! my boy,” he said, as he pulled me up, “you would like

to follow the hounds, I think.”

As we came back through the park we met the Squire and Mrs. Gordon walking;

they stopped, and John jumped off.

“Well, John, how does he go?”

“First-rate, sir,” answered John; “he is as fleet as a deer,

and has a fine spirit too; but the lightest touch of the rein will guide him.

Down at the end of the common we met one of those traveling carts

hung all over with baskets, rugs, and such like; you know, sir, many horses

will not pass those carts quietly; he just took a good look at it,

and then went on as quiet and pleasant as could be.

They were shooting rabbits near the Highwood, and a gun went off close by;

he pulled up a little and looked, but did not stir a step to right or left.

I just held the rein steady and did not hurry him, and it’s my opinion

he has not been frightened or ill-used while he was young.”

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

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

my mother’s coun


Все материалы в разделе "Иностранный язык"

ДОБАВИТЬ КОММЕНТАРИЙ  [можно без регистрации]
перед публикацией все комментарии рассматриваются модератором сайта - спам опубликован не будет

Ваше имя:


Хотите опубликовать свою статью или создать цикл из статей и лекций?
Это очень просто – нужна только регистрация на сайте.

Copyright © 2015-2018. All rigths reserved.