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.
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.
by Anna Sewell [English Quaker -- 1820-1878.]
May, 1995 [Etext #271]
entered/proofed by A. Light, of Waxhaw *email@example.com*
Proofed by Linda Bowser
**The Project Gutenberg Etext of Black Beauty, by Anna Sewell**
******This file should be named bbeau10.txt or bbeau10.zip*****
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 [xxxxx10x.xxx] 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:
P. O. Box 2782
Champaign, IL 61825
When all other email fails try our Michael S. Hart, Executive
firstname.lastname@example.org (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]
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]
for a list of books
get NEW.GUT for general information
mget GUT* for newsletters.
**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor**
***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START***
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.
*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT
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.
ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS
This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-
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.
LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
But for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described below,
 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
legal fees, and  YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.
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.
THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU “AS-IS”. NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
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:
 distribution of this etext,  alteration, modification,
or addition to the etext, or  any Defect.
DISTRIBUTION UNDER “PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm”
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,
 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).
 Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this
“Small Print!” statement.
 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.
WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON’T HAVE TO?
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 (email@example.com); TEL: (212-254-5093)
*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END*
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.]
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.
01 My Early Home
02 The Hunt
03 My Breaking In
04 Birtwick Park
05 A Fair Start
08 Ginger’s Story Continued
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
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
30 A Thief
31 A Humbug
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
46 Jakes and the Lady
47 Hard Times
48 Farmer Thoroughgood and His Grandson Willie
49 My Last Home
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
|◯||Beauty Essay Research Paper When I stop|
|◯||Beauty Essay Research Paper Beauty has always|
|◯||Beauty Essay Research Paper BeautySummary of The|
|◯||On Beauty In A State Essay Research|
|◯||Beauty Essay Research Paper Beauty is in|
|◯||Black Power Essay Research Paper Black PowerWhat|
|◯||Black Vision Essay Research Paper Ralph Ellison|
|◯||Gemini Project Essay Research Paper GEMINI PROJECT|
|◯||English Final Project Essay Research Paper Final|
|◯||Vieled Beauty Essay Research Paper Veiled BeautyWalt|