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

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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 counsel and my good old master's, and I tried to do exactly
what he wanted me to do. I found he was a very good rider,
and thoughtful for his horse too. When he came home
the lady was at the hall door as he rode up.

"Well, my dear," she said, "how do you like him?"

"He is exactly what John said," he replied; "a pleasanter creature
I never wish to mount. What shall we call him?"

"Would you like Ebony?" said she; "he is as black as ebony."

"No, not Ebony."

"Will you call him Blackbird, like your uncle's old horse?"

"No, he is far handsomer than old Blackbird ever was."

"Yes," she said, "he is really quite a beauty, and he has such a sweet,
good-tempered face, and such a fine, intelligent eye -- what do you say
to calling him Black Beauty?"

"Black Beauty -- why, yes, I think that is a very good name.
If you like it shall be his name;" and so it was.

When John went into the stable he told James that master and mistress
had chosen a good, sensible English name for me, that meant something;
not like Marengo, or Pegasus, or Abdallah. They both laughed,
and James said, "If it was not for bringing back the past,
I should have named him Rob Roy, for I never saw two horses more alike."

"That's no wonder," said John; "didn't you know that Farmer Grey's
old Duchess was the mother of them both?"

I had never heard that before; and so poor Rob Roy
who was killed at that hunt was my brother! I did not wonder
that my mother was so troubled. It seems that horses have no relations;
at least they never know each other after they are sold.

John seemed very proud of me; he used to make my mane and tail
almost as smooth as a lady's hair, and he would talk to me a great deal;
of course I did not understand all he said, but I learned more and more
to know what he meant, and what he wanted me to do. I grew very fond of him,
he was so gentle and kind; he seemed to know just how a horse feels,
and when he cleaned me he knew the tender places and the ticklish places;
when he brushed my head he went as carefully over my eyes
as if they were his own, and never stirred up any ill-temper.

James Howard, the stable boy, was just as gentle and pleasant in his way,
so I thought myself well off. There was another man who helped in the yard,
but he had very little to do with Ginger and me.

A few days after this I had to go out with Ginger in the carriage.
I wondered how we should get on together; but except laying her ears back
when I was led up to her, she behaved very well. She did her work honestly,
and did her full share, and I never wish to have a better partner
in double harness. When we came to a hill, instead of slackening her pace,
she would throw her weight right into the collar, and pull away straight up.
We had both the same sort of courage at our work, and John had oftener
to hold us in than to urge us forward; he never had to use the whip
with either of us; then our paces were much the same,
and I found it very easy to keep step with her when trotting,
which made it pleasant, and master always liked it when we kept step well,
and so did John. After we had been out two or three times together
we grew quite friendly and sociable, which made me feel very much at home.

As for Merrylegs, he and I soon became great friends; he was such a cheerful,
plucky, good-tempered little fellow that he was a favorite with every one,
and especially with Miss Jessie and Flora, who used to ride him about
in the orchard, and have fine games with him and their little dog Frisky.

Our master had two other horses that stood in another stable.
One was Justice, a roan cob, used for riding or for the luggage cart;
the other was an old brown hunter, named Sir Oliver; he was past work now,
but was a great favorite with the master, who gave him the run of the park;
he sometimes did a little light carting on the estate,
or carried one of the young ladies when they rode out with their father,
for he was very gentle and could be trusted with a child
as well as Merrylegs. The cob was a strong, well-made, good-tempered horse,
and we sometimes had a little chat in the paddock,
but of course I could not be so intimate with him as with Ginger,
who stood in the same stable.

06 Liberty

I was quite happy in my new place, and if there was one thing that I missed
it must not be thought I was discontented; all who had to do with me
were good and I had a light airy stable and the best of food.
What more could I want? Why, liberty! For three years and a half of my life
I had had all the liberty I could wish for; but now, week after week,
month after month, and no doubt year after year, I must stand up in a stable
night and day except when I am wanted, and then I must be
just as steady and quiet as any old horse who has worked twenty years.
Straps here and straps there, a bit in my mouth, and blinkers over my eyes.
Now, I am not complaining, for I know it must be so. I only mean to say
that for a young horse full of strength and spirits,
who has been used to some large field or plain where he can fling up his head
and toss up his tail and gallop away at full speed, then round and back again
with a snort to his companions -- I say it is hard never to have
a bit more liberty to do as you like. Sometimes, when I have had
less exercise than usual, I have felt so full of life and spring
that when John has taken me out to exercise I really could not keep quiet;
do what I would, it seemed as if I must jump, or dance, or prance,
and many a good shake I know I must have given him, especially at the first;
but he was always good and patient.

"Steady, steady, my boy," he would say; "wait a bit,
and we will have a good swing, and soon get the tickle out of your feet."
Then as soon as we were out of the village, he would give me a few miles
at a spanking trot, and then bring me back as fresh as before,
only clear of the fidgets, as he called them. Spirited horses,
when not enough exercised, are often called skittish, when it is only play;
and some grooms will punish them, but our John did not;
he knew it was only high spirits. Still, he had his own ways
of making me understand by the tone of his voice or the touch of the rein.
If he was very serious and quite determined, I always knew it by his voice,
and that had more power with me than anything else,
for I was very fond of him.

I ought to say that sometimes we had our liberty for a few hours;
this used to be on fine Sundays in the summer-time.
The carriage never went out on Sundays, because the church was not far off.

It was a great treat to us to be turned out into the home paddock
or the old orchard; the grass was so cool and soft to our feet,
the air so sweet, and the freedom to do as we liked was so pleasant --
to gallop, to lie down, and roll over on our backs,
or to nibble the sweet grass. Then it was a very good time for talking,
as we stood together under the shade of the large chestnut tree.

07 Ginger

One day when Ginger and I were standing alone in the shade,
we had a great deal of talk; she wanted to know all about my bringing up
and breaking in, and I told her.

"Well," said she, "if I had had your bringing up I might have had
as good a temper as you, but now I don't believe I ever shall."

"Why not?" I said.

"Because it has been all so different with me," she replied.
"I never had any one, horse or man, that was kind to me,
or that I cared to please, for in the first place I was taken from my mother
as soon as I was weaned, and put with a lot of other young colts;
none of them cared for me, and I cared for none of them.
There was no kind master like yours to look after me, and talk to me,
and bring me nice things to eat. The man that had the care of us
never gave me a kind word in my life. I do not mean that he ill-used me,
but he did not care for us one bit further than to see that we had
plenty to eat, and shelter in the winter. A footpath ran through our field,
and very often the great boys passing through would fling stones
to make us gallop. I was never hit, but one fine young colt
was badly cut in the face, and I should think it would be a scar for life.
We did not care for them, but of course it made us more wild,
and we settled it in our minds that boys were our enemies.
We had very good fun in the free meadows, galloping up and down
and chasing each other round and round the field; then standing still
under the shade of the trees. But when it came to breaking in,
that was a bad time for me; several men came to catch me,
and when at last they closed me in at one corner of the field,
one caught me by the forelock, another caught me by the nose
and held it so tight I could hardly draw my breath;
then another took my under jaw in his hard hand and wrenched my mouth open,
and so by force they got on the halter and the bar into my mouth;
then one dragged me along by the halter, another flogging behind,
and this was the first experience I had of men's kindness; it was all force.
They did not give me a chance to know what they wanted.
I was high bred and had a great deal of spirit, and was very wild, no doubt,
and gave them, I dare say, plenty of trouble, but then it was dreadful
to be shut up in a stall day after day instead of having my liberty,
and I fretted and pined and wanted to get loose. You know yourself
it's bad enough when you have a kind master and plenty of coaxing,
but there was nothing of that sort for me.

"There was one -- the old master, Mr. Ryder -- who, I think,
could soon have brought me round, and could have done anything with me;
but he had given up all the hard part of the trade to his son
and to another experienced man, and he only came at times to oversee.
His son was a strong, tall, bold man; they called him Samson,
and he used to boast that he had never found a horse that could throw him.
There was no gentleness in him, as there was in his father,
but only hardness, a hard voice, a hard eye, a hard hand; and I felt
from the first that what he wanted was to wear all the spirit out of me,
and just make me into a quiet, humble, obedient piece of horseflesh.
`Horseflesh'! Yes, that is all that he thought about,"
and Ginger stamped her foot as if the very thought of him made her angry.
Then she went on:

"If I did not do exactly what he wanted he would get put out,
and make me run round with that long rein in the training field
till he had tired me out. I think he drank a good deal,
and I am quite sure that the oftener he drank the worse it was for me.
One day he had worked me hard in every way he could,
and when I lay down I was tired, and miserable, and angry;
it all seemed so hard. The next morning he came for me early,
and ran me round again for a long time. I had scarcely had an hour's rest,
when he came again for me with a saddle and bridle and a new kind of bit.
I could never quite tell how it came about; he had only just mounted me
on the training ground, when something I did put him out of temper,
and he chucked me hard with the rein. The new bit was very painful,
and I reared up suddenly, which angered him still more, and he began
to flog me. I felt my whole spirit set against him, and I began to kick,
and plunge, and rear as I had never done before, and we had a regular fight;
for a long time he stuck to the saddle and punished me cruelly
with his whip and spurs, but my blood was thoroughly up,
and I cared for nothing he could do if only I could get him off.
At last after a terrible struggle I threw him off backward.
I heard him fall heavily on the turf, and without looking behind me,
I galloped off to the other end of the field; there I turned round and saw
my persecutor slowly rising from the ground and going into the stable.
I stood under an oak tree and watched, but no one came to catch me.
The time went on, and the sun was very hot; the flies swarmed round me
and settled on my bleeding flanks where the spurs had dug in.
I felt hungry, for I had not eaten since the early morning,
but there was not enough grass in that meadow for a goose to live on.
I wanted to lie down and rest, but with the saddle strapped tightly on
there was no comfort, and there was not a drop of water to drink.
The afternoon wore on, and the sun got low. I saw the other colts led in,
and I knew they were having a good feed.

"At last, just as the sun went down, I saw the old master come out
with a sieve in his hand. He was a very fine old gentleman
with quite white hair, but his voice was what I should know him by
among a thousand. It was not high, nor yet low, but full, and clear,
and kind, and when he gave orders it was so steady and decided
that every one knew, both horses and men, that he expected to be obeyed.
He came quietly along, now and then shaking the oats about
that he had in the sieve, and speaking cheerfully and gently to me:
`Come along, lassie, come along, lassie; come along, come along.'
I stood still and let him come up; he held the oats to me,
and I began to eat without fear; his voice took all my fear away.
He stood by, patting and stroking me while I was eating,
and seeing the clots of blood on my side he seemed very vexed.
`Poor lassie! it was a bad business, a bad business;'
then he quietly took the rein and led me to the stable;
just at the door stood Samson. I laid my ears back and snapped at him.
`Stand back,' said the master, `and keep out of her way;
you've done a bad day's work for this filly.' He growled out something
about a vicious brute. `Hark ye,' said the father, `a bad-tempered man
will never make a good-tempered horse. You've not learned your trade yet,
Samson.' Then he led me into my box, took off the saddle and bridle
with his own hands, and tied me up; then he called for a pail of warm water
and a sponge, took off his coat, and while the stable-man held the pail,
he sponged my sides a good while, so tenderly that I was sure he knew
how sore and bruised they were. `Whoa! my pretty one,' he said,
`stand still, stand still.' His very voice did me good, and the bathing
was very comfortable. The skin was so broken at the corners of my mouth
that I could not eat the hay, the stalks hurt me. He looked closely at it,
shook his head, and told the man to fetch a good bran mash and put some meal
into it. How good that mash was! and so soft and healing to my mouth.
He stood by all the time I was eating, stroking me and talking to the man.
`If a high-mettled creature like this,' said he, `can't be broken
by fair means, she will never be good for anything.'

"After that he often came to see me, and when my mouth was healed
the other breaker, Job, they called him, went on training me;
he was steady and thoughtful, and I soon learned what he wanted."

08 Ginger's Story Continued

The next time that Ginger and I were together in the paddock she told me
about her first place.

"After my breaking in," she said, "I was bought by a dealer
to match another chestnut horse. For some weeks he drove us together,
and then we were sold to a fashionable gentleman, and were sent up to London.
I had been driven with a check-rein by the dealer, and I hated it worse
than anything else; but in this place we were reined far tighter,
the coachman and his master thinking we looked more stylish so.
We were often driven about in the park and other fashionable places.
You who never had a check-rein on don't know what it is,
but I can tell you it is dreadful.

"I like to toss my head about and hold it as high as any horse;
but fancy now yourself, if you tossed your head up high and were obliged
to hold it there, and that for hours together, not able to move it at all,
except with a jerk still higher, your neck aching till you did not know
how to bear it. Besides that, to have two bits instead of one --
and mine was a sharp one, it hurt my tongue and my jaw,
and the blood from my tongue colored the froth that kept flying from my lips
as I chafed and fretted at the bits and rein. It was worst
when we had to stand by the hour waiting for our mistress at some
grand party or entertainment, and if I fretted or stamped with impatience
the whip was laid on. It was enough to drive one mad."

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

"No," said she, "he only cared to have a stylish turnout, as they call it;
I think he knew very little about horses; he left that to his coachman,
who told him I had an irritable temper! that I had not been well broken
to the check-rein, but I should soon get used to it; but he was not
the man to do it, for when I was in the stable, miserable and angry,
instead of being smoothed and quieted by kindness, I got only a surly word
or a blow. If he had been civil I would have tried to bear it.
I was willing to work, and ready to work hard too; but to be tormented
for nothing but their fancies angered me. What right had they
to make me suffer like that? Besides the soreness in my mouth,
and the pain in my neck, it always made my windpipe feel bad,
and if I had stopped there long I know it would have spoiled my breathing;
but I grew more and more restless and irritable, I could not help it;
and I began to snap and kick when any one came to harness me;
for this the groom beat me, and one day, as they had just buckled us
into the carriage, and were straining my head up with that rein,
I began to plunge and kick with all my might. I soon broke a lot of harness,
and kicked myself clear; so that was an end of that place.

"After this I was sent to Tattersall's to be sold; of course I could not be
warranted free from vice, so nothing was said about that.
My handsome appearance and good paces soon brought a gentleman to bid for me,
and I was bought by another dealer; he tried me in all kinds of ways
and with different bits, and he soon found out what I could not bear.
At last he drove me quite without a check-rein, and then sold me
as a perfectly quiet horse to a gentleman in the country;
he was a good master, and I was getting on very well, but his old groom
left him and a new one came. This man was as hard-tempered and hard-handed
as Samson; he always spoke in a rough, impatient voice,
and if I did not move in the stall the moment he wanted me,
he would hit me above the hocks with his stable broom or the fork,
whichever he might have in his hand. Everything he did was rough,
and I began to hate him; he wanted to make me afraid of him,
but I was too high-mettled for that, and one day when he had aggravated me
more than usual I bit him, which of course put him in a great rage,
and he began to hit me about the head with a riding whip.
After that he never dared to come into my stall again;
either my heels or my teeth were ready for him, and he knew it.
I was quite quiet with my master, but of course he listened
to what the man said, and so I was sold again.

"The same dealer heard of me, and said he thought he knew one place
where I should do well. `'Twas a pity,' he said, `that such a fine horse
should go to the bad, for want of a real good chance,' and the end of it was
that I came here not long before you did; but I had then made up my mind
that men were my natural enemies and that I must defend myself.
Of course it is very different here, but who knows how long it will last?
I wish I could think about things as you do; but I can't,
after all I have gone through."

"Well," I said, "I think it would be a real shame if you were to bite or kick
John or James."

"I don't mean to," she said, "while they are good to me.
I did bite James once pretty sharp, but John said, `Try her with kindness,'
and instead of punishing me as I expected, James came to me
with his arm bound up, and brought me a bran mash and stroked me;
and I have never snapped at him since, and I won't either."

I was sorry for Ginger, but of course I knew very little then,
and I thought most likely she made the worst of it; however,
I found that as the weeks went on she grew much more gentle and cheerful,
and had lost the watchful, defiant look that she used to turn
on any strange person who came near her; and one day James said,
"I do believe that mare is getting fond of me, she quite whinnied after me
this morning when I had been rubbing her forehead."

"Ay, ay, Jim, 'tis `the Birtwick balls'," said John, "she'll be as good
as Black Beauty by and by; kindness is all the physic she wants, poor thing!"
Master noticed the change, too, and one day when he got out of the carriage
and came to speak to us, as he often did, he stroked her beautiful neck.
"Well, my pretty one, well, how do things go with you now?
You are a good bit happier than when you came to us, I think."

She put her nose up to him in a friendly, trustful way,
while he rubbed it gently.

"We shall make a cure of her, John," he said.

"Yes, sir, she's wonderfully improved; she's not the same creature
that she was; it's `the Birtwick balls', sir," said John, laughing.

This was a little joke of John's; he used to say that a regular course
of "the Birtwick horseballs" would cure almost any vicious horse;
these balls, he said, were made up of patience and gentleness,
firmness and petting, one pound of each to be mixed up with half a pint
of common sense, and given to the horse every day.

09 Merrylegs

Mr. Blomefield, the vicar, had a large family of boys and girls;
sometimes they used to come and play with Miss Jessie and Flora.
One of the girls was as old as Miss Jessie; two of the boys were older,
and there were several little ones. When they came there was plenty of work
for Merrylegs, for nothing pleased them so much as getting on him by turns
and riding him all about the orchard and the home paddock,
and this they would do by the hour together.

One afternoon he had been out with them a long time,
and when James brought him in and put on his halter he said:

"There, you rogue, mind how you behave yourself, or we shall get
into trouble."

"What have you been doing, Merrylegs?" I asked.

"Oh!" said he, tossing his little head, "I have only been giving
those young people a lesson; they did not know when they had had enough,
nor when I had had enough, so I just pitched them off backward;
that was the only thing they could understand."

"What!" said I, "you threw the children off? I thought you did know better
than that! Did you throw Miss Jessie or Miss Flora?"

He looked very much offended, and said:

"Of course not; I would not do such a thing for the best oats
that ever came into the stable; why, I am as careful of our young ladies
as the master could be, and as for the little ones it is I who teach them
to ride. When they seem frightened or a little unsteady on my back
I go as smooth and as quiet as old pussy when she is after a bird;
and when they are all right I go on again faster, you see,
just to use them to it; so don't you trouble yourself preaching to me;
I am the best friend and the best riding-master those children have.
It is not them, it is the boys; boys," said he, shaking his mane,
"are quite different; they must be broken in as we were broken in
when we were colts, and just be taught what's what. The other children
had ridden me about for nearly two hours, and then the boys thought
it was their turn, and so it was, and I was quite agreeable.
They rode me by turns, and I galloped them about, up and down the fields
and all about the orchard, for a good hour. They had each cut
a great hazel stick for a riding-whip, and laid it on a little too hard;
but I took it in good part, till at last I thought we had had enough,
so I stopped two or three times by way of a hint. Boys, you see,
think a horse or pony is like a steam-engine or a thrashing-machine,
and can go on as long and as fast as they please; they never think
that a pony can get tired, or have any feelings; so as the one
who was whipping me could not understand I just rose up on my hind legs
and let him slip off behind -- that was all. He mounted me again,
and I did the same. Then the other boy got up, and as soon
as he began to use his stick I laid him on the grass, and so on,
till they were able to understand -- that was all. They are not bad boys;
they don't wish to be cruel. I like them very well; but you see
I had to give them a lesson. When they brought me to James and told him
I think he was very angry to see such big sticks. He said they were only fit
for drovers or gypsies, and not for young gentlemen."

"If I had been you," said Ginger, "I would have given those boys a good kick,
and that would have given them a lesson."

"No doubt you would," said Merrylegs; "but then I am not quite such a fool
(begging your pardon) as to anger our master or make James ashamed of me.
Besides, those children are under my charge when they are riding;
I tell you they are intrusted to me. Why, only the other day
I heard our master say to Mrs. Blomefield, `My dear madam, you need not be
anxious about the children; my old Merrylegs will take as much care of them
as you or I could; I assure you I would not sell that pony for any money,
he is so perfectly good-tempered and trustworthy;' and do you think
I am such an ungrateful brute as to forget all the kind treatment
I have had here for five years, and all the trust they place in me,
and turn vicious because a couple of ignorant boys used me badly?
No, no! you never had a good place where they were kind to you,
and so you don't know, and I'm sorry for you; but I can tell you
good places make good horses. I wouldn't vex our people for anything;
I love them, I do," said Merrylegs, and he gave a low "ho, ho, ho!"
through his nose, as he used to do in the morning when he heard
James' footstep at the door.

"Besides," he went on, "if I took to kicking where should I be? Why,
sold off in a jiffy, and no character, and I might find myself slaved about
under a butcher's boy, or worked to death at some seaside place
where no one cared for me, except to find out how fast I could go,
or be flogged along in some cart with three or four great men in it
going out for a Sunday spree, as I have often seen in the place I lived in
before I came here; no," said he, shaking his head, "I hope I shall never
come to that."

10 A Talk in the Orchard

Ginger and I were not of the regular tall carriage horse breed, we had more
of the racing blood in us. We stood about fifteen and a half hands high;
we were therefore just as good for riding as we were for driving,
and our master used to say that he disliked either horse or man that could do
but one thing; and as he did not want to show off in London parks,
he preferred a more active and useful kind of horse. As for us,
our greatest pleasure was when we were saddled for a riding party;
the master on Ginger, the mistress on me, and the young ladies
on Sir Oliver and Merrylegs. It was so cheerful to be trotting and cantering
all together that it always put us in high spirits. I had the best of it,
for I always carried the mistress; her weight was little,
her voice was sweet, and her hand was so light on the rein
that I was guided almost without feeling it.

Oh! if people knew what a comfort to horses a light hand is, and how it keeps
a good mouth and a good temper, they surely would not chuck, and drag,
and pull at the rein as they often do. Our mouths are so tender that
where they have not been spoiled or hardened with bad or ignorant treatment,
they feel the slightest movement of the driver's hand, and we know
in an instant what is required of us. My mouth has never been spoiled,
and I believe that was why the mistress preferred me to Ginger,
although her paces were certainly quite as good. She used often to envy me,
and said it was all the fault of breaking in, and the gag bit in London,
that her mouth was not so perfect as mine; and then old Sir Oliver would say,
"There, there! don't vex yourself; you have the greatest honor;
a mare that can carry a tall man of our master's weight,
with all your spring and sprightly action, does not need
to hold her head down because she does not carry the lady;
we horses must take things as they come, and always be contented and willing
so long as we are kindly used."

I had often wondered how it was that Sir Oliver had such a very short tail;
it really was only six or seven inches long, with a tassel of hair
hanging from it; and on one of our holidays in the orchard
I ventured to ask him by what accident it was that he had lost his tail.
"Accident!" he snorted with a fierce look, "it was no accident!
it was a cruel, shameful, cold-blooded act! When I was young
I was taken to a place where these cruel things were done; I was tied up,
and made fast so that I could not stir, and then they came and cut off
my long and beautiful tail, through the flesh and through the bone,
and took it away.

"How dreadful!" I exclaimed.

"Dreadful, ah! it was dreadful; but it was not only the pain,
though that was terrible and lasted a long time; it was not only
the indignity of having my best ornament taken from me, though that was bad;
but it was this, how could I ever brush the flies off
my sides and my hind legs any more? You who have tails
just whisk the flies off without thinking about it, and you can't tell
what a torment it is to have them settle upon you and sting and sting,
and have nothing in the world to lash them off with. I tell you
it is a lifelong wrong, and a lifelong loss; but thank heaven,
they don't do it now."

"What did they do it for then?" said Ginger.

"For fashion!" said the old horse with a stamp of his foot; "for fashion!
if you know what that means; there was not a well-bred young horse in my time
that had not his tail docked in that shameful way, just as if
the good God that made us did not know what we wanted and what looked best."

"I suppose it is fashion that makes them strap our heads up
with those horrid bits that I was tortured with in London," said Ginger.

"Of course it is," said he; "to my mind, fashion is one of the wickedest
things in the world. Now look, for instance, at the way they serve dogs,
cutting off their tails to make them look plucky, and shearing up
their pretty little ears to a point to make them both look sharp, forsooth.
I had a dear friend once, a brown terrier; `Skye' they called her.
She was so fond of me that she never would sleep out of my stall;
she made her bed under the manger, and there she had a litter
of five as pretty little puppies as need be; none were drowned,
for they were a valuable kind, and how pleased she was with them! and when
they got their eyes open and crawled about, it was a real pretty sight;
but one day the man came and took them all away; I thought he might be afraid
I should tread upon them. But it was not so; in the evening poor Skye
brought them back again, one by one in her mouth; not the happy little things
that they were, but bleeding and crying pitifully; they had all had
a piece of their tails cut off, and the soft flap of their pretty little ears
was cut quite off. How their mother licked them, and how troubled she was,
poor thing! I never forgot it. They healed in time,
and they forgot the pain, but the nice soft flap, that of course was intended
to protect the delicate part of their ears from dust and injury,
was gone forever. Why don't they cut their own children's ears into points
to make them look sharp? Why don't they cut the end off their noses
to make them look plucky? One would be just as sensible as the other.
What right have they to torment and disfigure God's creatures?"

Sir Oliver, though he was so gentle, was a fiery old fellow,
and what he said was all so new to me, and so dreadful,
that I found a bitter feeling toward men rise up in my mind
that I never had before. Of course Ginger was very much excited;
she flung up her head with flashing eyes and distended nostrils,
declaring that men were both brutes and blockheads.

"Who talks about blockheads?" said Merrylegs, who just came up
from the old apple-tree, where he had been rubbing himself against
the low branch. "Who talks about blockheads? I believe that is a bad word."

"Bad words were made for bad things," said Ginger, and she told him
what Sir Oliver had said.

"It is all true," said Merrylegs sadly, "and I've seen that about the dogs
over and over again where I lived first; but we won't talk about it here.
You know that master, and John and James are always good to us, and talking
against men in such a place as this doesn't seem fair or grateful,
and you know there are good masters and good grooms beside ours,
though of course ours are the best."

This wise speech of good little Merrylegs, which we knew was quite true,
cooled us all down, especially Sir Oliver, who was dearly fond of his master;
and to turn the subject I said, "Can any one tell me the use of blinkers?"

"No!" said Sir Oliver shortly, "because they are no use."

"They are supposed," said Justice, the roan cob, in his calm way,
"to prevent horses from shying and starting, and getting so frightened
as to cause accidents."

"Then what is the reason they do not put them on riding horses;
especially on ladies' horses?" said I.

"There is no reason at all," said he quietly, "except the fashion;
they say that a horse would be so frightened to see the wheels
of his own cart or carriage coming behind him that he would be sure
to run away, although of course when he is ridden he sees them all about him
if the streets are crowded. I admit they do sometimes come too close
to be pleasant, but we don't run away; we are used to it, and understand it,
and if we never had blinkers put on we should never want them;
we should see what was there, and know what was what,
and be much less frightened than by only seeing bits of things
that we can't understand. Of course there may be some nervous horses
who have been hurt or frightened when they were young,
who may be the better for them; but as I never was nervous, I can't judge."

"I consider," said Sir Oliver, "that blinkers are dangerous things
in the night; we horses can see much better in the dark than men can,
and many an accident would never have happened if horses might have had
the full use of their eyes. Some years ago, I remember,
there was a hearse with two horses returning one dark night,
and just by Farmer Sparrow's house, where the pond is close to the road,
the wheels went too near the edge, and the hearse was overturned
into the water; both the horses were drowned, and the driver hardly escaped.
Of course after this accident a stout white rail was put up that might be
easily seen, but if those horses had not been partly blinded,
they would of themselves have kept further from the edge, and no accident
would have happened. When our master's carriage was overturned,
before you came here, it was said that if the lamp on the left side had not
gone out, John would have seen the great hole that the road-makers had left;
and so he might, but if old Colin had not had blinkers on he would have
seen it, lamp or no lamp, for he was far too knowing an old horse
to run into danger. As it was, he was very much hurt,
the carriage was broken, and how John escaped nobody knew."

"I should say," said Ginger, curling her nostril, "that these men,
who are so wise, had better give orders that in the future
all foals should be born with their eyes set just in the middle
of their foreheads, instead of on the side; they always think
they can improve upon nature and mend what God has made."

Things were getting rather sore again, when Merrylegs held up
his knowing little face and said, "I'll tell you a secret: I believe
John does not approve of blinkers; I heard him talking with master about it
one day. The master said that `if horses had been used to them,
it might be dangerous in some cases to leave them off';
and John said he thought it would be a good thing if all colts
were broken in without blinkers, as was the case in some foreign countries.
So let us cheer up, and have a run to the other end of the orchard;
I believe the wind has blown down some apples, and we might
just as well eat them as the slugs."

Merrylegs could not be resisted, so we broke off our long conversation,
and got up our spirits by munching some very sweet apples
which lay scattered on the grass.

11 Plain Speaking

The longer I lived at Birtwick the more proud and happy I felt
at having such a place. Our master and mistress were respected and beloved
by all who knew them; they were good and kind to everybody and everything;
not only men and women, but horses and donkeys, dogs and cats,
cattle and birds; there was no oppressed or ill-used creature
that had not a friend in them, and their servants took the same tone.
If any of the village children were known to treat any creature cruelly
they soon heard about it from the Hall.

The squire and Farmer Grey had worked together, as they said,
for more than twenty years to get check-reins on the cart-horses
done away with, and in our parts you seldom saw them; and sometimes,
if mistress met a heavily laden horse with his head strained up
she would stop the carriage and get out, and reason with the driver
in her sweet serious voice, and try to show him how foolish and cruel it was.

I don't think any man could withstand our mistress. I wish all ladies
were like her. Our master, too, used to come down very heavy sometimes.
I remember he was riding me toward home one morning when we saw
a powerful man driving toward us in a light pony chaise,
with a beautiful little bay pony, with slender legs and a high-bred
sensitive head and face. Just as he came to the park gates
the little thing turned toward them; the man, without word or warning,
wrenched the creature's head round with such a force and suddenness
that he nearly threw it on its haunches. Recovering itself it was going on,
when he began to lash it furiously. The pony plunged forward,
but the strong, heavy hand held the pretty creature back
with force almost enough to break its jaw, while the whip still cut into him.
It was a dreadful sight to me, for I knew what fearful pain it gave
that delicate little mouth; but master gave me the word,
and we were up with him in a second.

"Sawyer," he cried in a stern voice, "is that pony made of flesh and blood?"

"Flesh and blood and temper," he said; "he's too fond of his own will,
and that won't suit me." He spoke as if he was in a strong passion.
He was a builder who had often been to the park on business.

"And do you think," said master sternly, "that treatment like this
will make him fond of your will?"

"He had no business to make that turn; his road was straight on!"
said the man roughly.

"You have often driven that pony up to my place," said master;
"it only shows the creature's memory and intelligence; how did he know
that you were not going there again? But that has little to do with it.
I must say, Mr. Sawyer, that a more unmanly, brutal treatment
of a little pony it was never my painful lot to witness,
and by giving way to such passion you injure your own character as much,
nay more, than you injure your horse; and remember, we shall all have to be
judged according to our works, whether they be toward man or 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 break.
After a little conversation the captain said:

"What do you think of my new team, Mr. Douglas? You know,
you are the judge of horses in these parts, and I should like your opinion."

The master backed me a little, so as to get a good view of them.
"They are an uncommonly handsome pair," he said, "and if they are
as good as they look I am sure you need not wish for anything better;
but I see you still hold that pet scheme of yours for worrying your horses
and lessening their power."

"What do you mean," said the other, "the check-reins? Oh, ah!
I know that's a hobby of yours; well, the fact is, I like to see my horses
hold their heads up."

"So do I," said master, "as well as any man, but I don't like to see them
held up; that takes all the shine out of it. Now, you are a military man,
Langley, and no doubt like to see your regiment look well on parade,
`heads up', and all that; but you would not take much credit for your drill
if all your men had their heads tied to a backboard! It might not be
much harm on parade, except to worry and fatigue them; but how would it be
in a bayonet charge against the enemy, when they want the free use
of every muscle, and all their strength thrown forward?
I would not give much for their chance of victory. And it is just the same
with horses: you fret and worry their tempers, and decrease their power;
you will not let them throw their weight against their work,
and so they have to do too much with their joints and muscles,
and of course it wears them up faster. You may depend upon it,
horses were intended to have their heads free, as free as men's are;
and if we could act a little more according to common sense,
and a good deal less according to fashion, we should find many things
work easier; besides, you know as well as I that if a horse makes
a false step, he has much less chance of recovering himself
if his head and neck are fastened back. And now," said the master, laughing,
"I have given my hobby a good trot out, can't you make up your mind
to mount him, too, captain? Your example would go a long way."

"I believe you are right in theory," said the other,
"and that's rather a hard hit about the soldiers; but -- well --
I'll think about it," and so they parted.

12 A Stormy Day

One day late in the autumn my master had a long journey to go on business.
I was put into the dog-cart, and John went with his master.
I always liked to go in the dog-cart, it was so light and the high wheels
ran along so pleasantly. There had been a great deal of rain,
and now the wind was very high and blew the dry leaves across the road
in a shower. We went along merrily till we came to the toll-bar
and the low wooden bridge. The river banks were rather high,
and the bridge, instead of rising, went across just level,
so that in the middle, if the river was full, the water would be nearly up to
the woodwork and planks; but as there were good substantial rails
on each side, people did not mind it.

The man at the gate said the river was rising fast, and he feared it would be
a bad night. Many of the meadows were under water, and in one low part
of the road the water was halfway up to my knees; the bottom was good,
and master drove gently, so it was no matter.

When we got to the town of course I had a good bait,
but as the master's business engaged him a long time
we did not start for home till rather late in the afternoon.
The wind was then much higher, and I heard the master say to John
that he had never been out in such a storm; and so I thought,
as we went along the skirts of a wood, where the great branches
were swaying about like twigs, and the rushing sound was terrible.

"I wish we were well out of this wood," said my master.

"Yes, sir," said John, "it would be rather awkward if one of these branches
came down upon us."

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when there was a groan, and a crack,
and a splitting sound, and tearing, crashing down among the other trees
came an oak, torn up by the roots, and it fell right across the road
just before us. I will never say I was not frightened, for I was.
I stopped still, and I believe I trembled; of course I did not turn round
or run away; I was not brought up to that. John jumped out
and was in a moment at my head.

"That was a very near touch," said my master. "What's to be done now?"

"Well, sir, we can't drive over that tree, nor yet get round it;
there will be nothing for it, but to go back to the four crossways,
and that will be a good six miles before we get round
to the wooden bridge again; it will make us late, but the horse is fresh."

So back we went and round by the crossroads, but by the time we got
to the bridge it was very nearly dark; we could just see that the water
was over the middle of it; but as that happened sometimes
when the floods were out, master did not stop. We were going along
at a good pace, but the moment my feet touched the first part of the bridge
I felt sure there was something wrong. I dare not go forward,
and I made a dead stop. "Go on, Beauty," said my master,
and he gave me a touch with the whip, but I dare not stir;
he gave me a sharp cut; I jumped, but I dare not go forward.

"There's something wrong, sir," said John, and he sprang out of the dog-cart
and came to my head and looked all about. He tried to lead me forward.
"Come on, Beauty, what's the matter?" Of course I could not tell him,
but I knew very well that the bridge was not safe.

Just then the man at the toll-gate on the other side ran out of the house,
tossing a torch about like one mad.

"Hoy, hoy, hoy! halloo! stop!" he cried.

"What's the matter?" shouted my master.

"The bridge is broken in the middle, and part of it is carried away;
if you come on you'll be into the river."

"Thank God!" said my master. "You Beauty!" said John, and took the bridle
and gently turned me round to the right-hand road by the river side.
The sun had set some time; the wind seemed to have lulled off
after that furious blast which tore up the tree. It grew darker and darker,
stiller and stiller. I trotted quietly along, the wheels hardly making
a sound on the soft road. For a good while neither master nor John spoke,
and then master began in a serious voice. I could not understand much
of what they said, but I found they thought, if I had gone on as the master
wanted me, most likely the bridge would have given way under us,
and horse, chaise, master, and man would have fallen into the river;
and as the current was flowing very strongly, and there was no light
and no help at hand, it was more than likely we should all have been drowned.
Master said, God had given men reason, by which they could find out things
for themselves; but he had given animals knowledge which did not
depend on reason, and which was much more prompt and perfect in its way,
and by which they had often saved the lives of men. John had many
stories to tell of dogs and horses, and the wonderful things they had done;
he thought people did not value their animals half enough
nor make friends of them as they ought to do. I am sure
he makes friends of them if ever a man did.

At last we came to the park gates and found the gardener looking out for us.
He said that mistress had been in a dreadful way ever since dark,
fearing some accident had happened, and that she had sent James off
on Justice, the roan cob, toward the wooden bridge to make inquiry after us.

We saw a light at the hall-door and at the upper windows,
and as we came up mistress ran out, saying, "Are you really safe, my dear?
Oh! I have been so anxious, fancying all sorts of things.
Have you had no accident?"

"No, my dear; but if your Black Beauty had not been wiser than we were
we should all have been carried down the river at the wooden bridge."
I heard no more, as they went into the house, and John took me to the stable.
Oh, what a good supper he gave me that night, a good bran mash
and some crushed beans with my oats, and such a thick bed of straw!
and I was glad of it, for I was tired.

13 The Devil's Trade Mark

One day when John and I had been out on some business of our master's,
and were returning gently on a long, straight road, at some distance we saw
a boy trying to leap a pony over a gate; the pony would not take the leap,
and the boy cut him with the whip, but he only turned off on one side.
He whipped him again, but the pony turned off on the other side.
Then the boy got off and gave him a hard thrashing, and knocked him
about the head; then he got up again and tried to make him leap the gate,
kicking him all the time shamefully, but still the pony refused.
When we were nearly at the spot the pony put down his head and threw up
his heels, and sent the boy neatly over into a broad quickset hedge,
and with the rein dangling from his head he set off home at a full gallop.
John laughed out quite loud. "Served him right," he said.

"Oh, oh, oh!" cried the boy as he struggled about among the thorns;
"I say, come and help me out."

"Thank ye," said John, "I think you are quite in the right place,
and maybe a little scratching will teach you not to leap a pony over a gate
that is too high for him," and so with that John rode off. "It may be,"
said he to himself, "that young fellow is a liar as well as a cruel one;
we'll just go home by Farmer Bushby's, Beauty, and then
if anybody wants to know you and I can tell 'em, ye see."
So we turned off to the right, and soon came up to the stack-yard,
and within sight of the house. The farmer was hurrying out into the road,
and his wife was standing at the gate, looking very frightened.

"Have you seen my boy?" said Mr. Bushby as we came up;
"he went out an hour ago on my black pony, and the creature is just come back
without a rider."

"I should think, sir," said John, "he had better be without a rider,
unless he can be ridden properly."

"What do you mean?" said the farmer.

"Well, sir, I saw your son whipping, and kicking, and knocking
that good little pony about shamefully because he would not leap a gate
that was too high for him. The pony behaved well, sir, and showed no vice;
but at last he just threw up his heels and tipped the young gentleman
into the thorn hedge. He wanted me to help him out, but I hope you will
excuse me, sir, I did not feel inclined to do so. There's no bones broken,
sir; he'll only get a few scratches. I love horses, and it riles me
to see them badly used; it is a bad plan to aggravate an animal
till he uses his heels; the first time is not always the last."

During this time the mother began to cry, "Oh, my poor Bill,
I must go and meet him; he must be hurt."

"You had better go into the house, wife," said the farmer;
"Bill wants a lesson about this, and I must see that he gets it;
this is not the first time, nor the second, that he has ill-used that pony,
and I shall stop it. I am much obliged to you, Manly. Good-evening."

So we went on, John chuckling all the way home; then he told James about it,
who laughed and said, "Serve him right. I knew that boy at school;
he took great airs on himself because he was a farmer's son;
he used to swagger about and bully the little boys. Of course,
we elder ones would not have any of that nonsense, and let him know
that in the school and the playground farmers' sons and laborers' sons
were all alike. I well remember one day, just before afternoon school,
I found him at the large window catching flies and pulling off their wings.
He did not see me and I gave him a box on the ears that laid him sprawling
on the floor. Well, angry as I was, I was almost frightened,
he roared and bellowed in such a style. The boys rushed in
from the playground, and the master ran in from the road to see
who was being murdered. Of course I said fair and square at once
what I had done, and why; then I showed the master the flies,
some crushed and some crawling about helpless, and I showed him the wings
on the window sill. I never saw him so angry before;
but as Bill was still howling and whining, like the coward that he was,
he did not give him any more punishment of that kind,
but set him up on a stool for the rest of the afternoon,
and said that he should not go out to play for that week.
Then he talked to all the boys very seriously about cruelty, and said
how hard-hearted and cowardly it was to hurt the weak and the helpless;
but what stuck in my mind was this, he said that cruelty was the devil's
own trade-mark, and if we saw any one who took pleasure in cruelty
we might know who he belonged to, for the devil was a murderer
from the beginning, and a tormentor to the end. On the other hand,
where we saw people who loved their neighbors, and were kind
to man and beast, we might know that was God's mark."

"Your master never taught you a truer thing," said John;
"there is no religion without love, and people may talk as much as they like
about their religion, but if it does not teach them to be good and kind
to man and beast it is all a sham -- all a sham, James, and it won't stand
when things come to be turned inside out."

14 James Howard

Early one morning in December John had just led me into my box
after my daily exercise, and was strapping my cloth on
and James was coming in from the corn chamber with some oats,
when the master came into the stable. He looked rather serious,
and held an open letter in his hand. John fastened the door of my box,
touched his cap, and waited for orders.

"Good-morning, John," said the master. "I want to know
if you have any complaint to make of James."

"Complaint, sir? No, sir."

"Is he industrious at his work and respectful to you?"

"Yes, sir, always."

"You never find he slights his work when your back is turned?"

"Never, sir."

"That's well; but I must put another question. Have you no reason
to suspect, when he goes out with the horses to exercise them
or to take a message, that he stops about talking to his acquaintances,
or goes into houses where he has no business, leaving the horses outside?"

"No, sir, certainly not; and if anybody has been saying that about James,
I don't believe it, and I don't mean to believe it unless I have it
fairly proved before witnesses; it's not for me to say who has been trying
to take away James' character, but I will say this, sir, that a steadier,
pleasanter, honester, smarter young fellow I never had in this stable.
I can trust his word and I can trust his work; he is gentle and clever
with the horses, and I would rather have them in charge with him
than with half the young fellows I know of in laced hats and liveries;
and whoever wants a character of James Howard," said John,
with a decided jerk of his head, "let them come to John Manly."

The master stood all this time grave and attentive,
but as John finished his speech a broad smile spread over his face,
and looking kindly across at James, who all this time had stood still
at the door, he said, "James, my lad, set down the oats and come here;
I am very glad to find that John's opinion of your character
agrees so exactly with my own. John is a cautious man," he said,
with a droll smile, "and it is not always easy to get his opinion
about people, so I thought if I beat the bush on this side
the birds would fly out, and I should learn what I wanted to know quickly;
so now we will come to business. I have a letter from my brother-in-law,
Sir Clifford Williams, of Clifford Hall. He wants me to find him
a trustworthy young groom, about twenty or twenty-one,
who knows his business. His old coachman, who has lived with him
thirty years, is getting feeble, and he wants a man to work with him
and get into his ways, who would be able, when the old man was pensioned off,
to step into his place. He would have eighteen shillings a week at first,
a stable suit, a driving suit, a bedroom over the coachhouse,
and a boy under him. Sir Clifford is a good master,
and if you could get the place it would be a good start for you.
I don't want to part with you, and if you left us I know John would lose
his right hand."

"That I should, sir," said John, "but I would not stand in his light
for the world."

"How old are you, James?" said master.

"Nineteen next May, sir."

"That's young; what do you think, John?"

"Well, sir, it is young; but he is as steady as a man, and is strong,
and well grown, and though he has not had much experience in driving,
he has a light firm hand and a quick eye, and he is very careful,
and I am quite sure no horse of his will be ruined for want of having
his feet and shoes looked after."

"Your word will go the furthest, John," said the master,
"for Sir Clifford adds in a postscript, `If I could find a man
trained by your John I should like him better than any other;'
so, James, lad, think it over, talk to your mother at dinner-time,
and then let me know what you wish."

In a few days after this conversation it was fully settled
that James should go to Clifford Hall, in a month or six weeks,
as it suited his master, and in the meantime he was to get
all the practice in driving that could be given to him. I never knew
the carriage to go out so often before; when the mistress did not go out
the master drove himself in the two-wheeled chaise; but now,
whether it was master or the young ladies, or only an errand,
Ginger and I were put in the carriage and James drove us.
At the first John rode with him on the box, telling him this and that,
and after that James drove alone.

Then it was wonderful what a number of places the master would go to
in the city on Saturday, and what queer streets we were driven through.
He was sure to go to the railway station just as the train was coming in,
and cabs and carriages, carts and omnibuses were all trying to get over
the bridge together; that bridge wanted good horses and good drivers
when the railway bell was ringing, for it was narrow, and there was
a very sharp turn up to the station, where it would not have been
at all difficult for people to run into each other, if they did not
look sharp and keep their wits about them.

15 The Old Hostler

After this it was decided by my master and mistress to pay a visit
to some friends who lived about forty-six miles from our home,
and James was to drive them. The first day we traveled thirty-two miles.
There were some long, heavy hills, but James drove so carefully
and thoughtfully that we were not at all harassed. He never forgot to
put on the brake as we went downhill, nor to take it off at the right place.
He kept our feet on the smoothest part of the road, and if the uphill
was very long, he set the carriage wheels a little across the road,
so as not to run back, and gave us a breathing. All these little things
help a horse very much, particularly if he gets kind words into the bargain.

We stopped once or twice on the road, and just as the sun was going down
we reached the town where we were to spend the night. We stopped at
the principal hotel, which was in the market-place; it was a very large one;
we drove under an archway into a long yard, at the further end of which
were the stables and coachhouses. Two hostlers came to take us out.
The head hostler was a pleasant, active little man, with a crooked leg,
and a yellow striped waistcoat. I never saw a man unbuckle harness
so quickly as he did, and with a pat and a good word he led me
to a long stable, with six or eight stalls in it, and two or three horses.
The other man brought Ginger; James stood by while we were
rubbed down and cleaned.

I never was cleaned so lightly and quickly as by that little old man.
When he had done James stepped up and felt me over, as if he thought
I could not be thoroughly done, but he found my coat as clean and smooth
as silk.

"Well," he said, "I thought I was pretty quick, and our John quicker still,
but you do beat all I ever saw for being quick and thorough
at the same time."

"Practice makes perfect," said the crooked little hostler,
"and 'twould be a pity if it didn't; forty years' practice, and not perfect!
ha, ha! that would be a pity; and as to being quick, why, bless you!
that is only a matter of habit; if you get into the habit of being quick
it is just as easy as being slow; easier, I should say;
in fact it don't agree with my health to be hulking about over a job
twice as long as it need take. Bless you! I couldn't whistle
if I crawled over my work as some folks do! You see,
I have been about horses ever since I was twelve years old,
in hunting stables, and racing stables; and being small, ye see,
I was jockey for several years; but at the Goodwood, ye see,
the turf was very slippery and my poor Larkspur got a fall,
and I broke my knee, and so of course I was of no more use there.
But I could not live without horses, of course I couldn't,
so I took to the hotels. And I can tell ye it is a downright pleasure
to handle an animal like this, well-bred, well-mannered, well-cared-for;
bless ye! I can tell how a horse is treated. Give me the handling of a horse
for twenty minutes, and I'll tell you what sort of a groom he has had.
Look at this one, pleasant, quiet, turns about just as you want him,
holds up his feet to be cleaned out, or anything else you please to wish;
then you'll find another fidgety, fretty, won't move the right way,
or starts across the stall, tosses up his head as soon as you come near him,
lays his ears, and seems afraid of you; or else squares about at you
with his heels. Poor things! I know what sort of treatment they have had.
If they are timid it makes them start or shy; if they are high-mettled
it makes them vicious or dangerous; their tempers are mostly made
when they are young. Bless you! they are like children,
train 'em up in the way they should go, as the good book says,
and when they are old they will not depart from it, if they have a chance."

"I like to hear you talk," said James, "that's the way
we lay it down at home, at our master's."

"Who is your master, young man? if it be a proper question.
I should judge he is a good one, from what I see."

"He is Squire Gordon, of Birtwick Park, the other side the Beacon Hills,"
said James.

"Ah! so, so, I have heard tell of him; fine judge of horses, ain't he?
the best rider in the county."

"I believe he is," said James, "but he rides very little now,
since the poor young master was killed."

"Ah! poor gentleman; I read all about it in the paper at the time.
A fine horse killed, too, wasn't there?"

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

"Pity! pity!" said the old man; "'twas a bad place to leap, if I remember;
a thin fence at top, a steep bank down to the stream, wasn't it?
No chance for a horse to see where he is going. Now, I am for bold riding
as much as any man, but still there are some leaps that only
a very knowing old huntsman has any right to take. A man's life
and a horse's life are worth more than a fox's tail; at least,
I should say they ought to be."

During this time the other man had finished Ginger and had brought our corn,
and James and the old man left the stable together.

16 The Fire

Later on in the evening a traveler's horse was brought in
by the second hostler, and while he was cleaning him
a young man with a pipe in his mouth lounged into the stable to gossip.

"I say, Towler," said the hostler, "just run up the ladder into the loft and
put some hay down into this horse's rack, will you? only lay down your pipe."

"All right," said the other, and went up through the trapdoor;
and I heard him step across the floor overhead and put down the hay.
James came in to look at us the last thing, and then the door was locked.

I cannot say how long I had slept, nor what time in the night it was,
but I woke up very uncomfortable, though I hardly knew why. I got up;
the air seemed all thick and choking. I heard Ginger coughing
and one of the other horses seemed very restless; it was quite dark,
and I could see nothing, but the stable seemed full of smoke,
and I hardly knew how to breathe.

The trapdoor had been left open, and I thought that was the place
it came through. I listened, and heard a soft rushing sort of noise
and a low crackling and snapping. I did not know what it was, but there was
something in the sound so strange that it made me tremble all over.
The other horses were all awake; some were pulling at their halters,
others stamping.

At last I heard steps outside, and the hostler who had put up
the traveler's horse burst into the stable with a lantern,
and began to untie the horses, and try to lead them out;
but he seemed in such a hurry and so frightened himself
that he frightened me still more. The first horse would not go with him;
he tried the second and third, and they too would not stir.
He came to me next and tried to drag me out of the stall by force;
of course that was no use. He tried us all by turns
and then left the stable.

No doubt we were very foolish, but danger seemed to be all round,
and there was nobody we knew to trust in, and all was strange and uncertain.
The fresh air that had come in through the open door made it
easier to breathe, but the rushing sound overhead grew louder,
and as I looked upward through the bars of my empty rack I saw a red light
flickering on the wall. Then I heard a cry of "Fire!" outside,
and the old hostler quietly and quickly came in; he got one horse out,
and went to another, but the flames were playing round the trapdoor,
and the roaring overhead was dreadful.

The next thing I heard was James' voice, quiet and cheery, as it always was.

"Come, my beauties, it is time for us to be off, so wake up and come along."
I stood nearest the door, so he came to me first, patting me as he came in.

"Come, Beauty, on with your bridle, my boy, we'll soon be
out of this smother." It was on in no time; then he took the scarf
off his neck, and tied it lightly over my eyes, and patting and coaxing
he led me out of the stable. Safe in the yard, he slipped the scarf
off my eyes, and shouted, "Here somebody! take this horse while I go back
for the other."

A tall, broad man stepped forward and took me, and James darted back
into the stable. I set up a shrill whinny as I saw him go.
Ginger told me afterward that whinny was the best thing I could have done
for her, for had she not heard me outside she would never have had courage
to come out.

There was much confusion in the yard; the horses being got out
of other stables, and the carriages and gigs being pulled out
of houses and sheds, lest the flames should spread further.
On the other side the yard windows were thrown up, and people were shouting
all sorts of things; but I kept my eye fixed on the stable door,
where the smoke poured out thicker than ever, and I could see flashes
of red light; presently I heard above all the stir and din a loud,
clear voice, which I knew was master's:

"James Howard! James Howard! Are you there?" There was no answer,
but I heard a crash of something falling in the stable,
and the next moment I gave a loud, joyful neigh, for I saw James
coming through the smoke leading Ginger with him; she was coughing violently,
and he was not able to speak.

"My brave lad!" said master, laying his hand on his shoulder,
"are you hurt?"

James shook his head, for he could not yet speak.

"Ay," said the big man who held me; "he is a brave lad, and no mistake."

"And now," said master, "when you have got your breath, James,
we'll get out of this place as quickly as we can," and we were moving
toward the entry, when from the market-place there came a sound
of galloping feet and loud rumbling wheels.

"'Tis the fire-engine! the fire-engine!" shouted two or three voices,
"stand back, make way!" and clattering and thundering over the stones
two horses dashed into the yard with a heavy engine behind them. The firemen
leaped to the ground; there was no need to ask where the fire was --
it was rolling up in a great blaze from the roof.

We got out as fast as we could into the broad quiet market-place;
the stars were shining, and except the noise behind us, all was still.
Master led the way to a large hotel on the other side,
and as soon as the hostler came, he said, "James, I must now hasten
to your mistress; I trust the horses entirely to you,
order whatever you think is needed," and with that he was gone.
The master did not run, but I never saw mortal man walk so fast
as he did that night.

There was a dreadful sound before we got into our stalls --
the shrieks of those poor horses that were left burning to death
in the stable -- it was very terrible! and made both Ginger and me
feel very bad. We, however, were taken in and well done by.

The next morning the master came to see how we were and to speak to James.
I did not hear much, for the hostler was rubbing me down,
but I could see that James looked very happy, and I thought the master
was proud of him. Our mistress had been so much alarmed in the night
that the journey was put off till the afternoon, so James had the morning
on hand, and went first to the inn to see about our harness and the carriage,
and then to hear more about the fire. When he came back we heard him tell
the hostler about it. At first no one could guess how the fire
had been caused, but at last a man said he saw Dick Towler go into the stable
with a pipe in his mouth, and when he came out he had not one,
and went to the tap for another. Then the under hostler said
he had asked Dick to go up the ladder to put down some hay, but told him
to lay down his pipe first. Dick denied taking the pipe with him,
but no one believed him. I remember our John Manly's rule, never to allow
a pipe in the stable, and thought it ought to be the rule everywhere.

James said the roof and floor had all fallen in, and that only
the black walls were standing; the two poor horses that could not be got out
were buried under the burnt rafters and tiles.

17 John Manly's Talk

The rest of our journey was very easy, and a little after sunset
we reached the house of my master's friend. We were taken into a clean,
snug stable; there was a kind coachman, who made us very comfortable,
and who seemed to think a good deal of James when he heard about the fire.

"There is one thing quite clear, young man," he said, "your horses know
who they can trust; it is one of the hardest things in the world
to get horses out of a stable when there is either fire or flood.
I don't know why they won't come out, but they won't -- not one in twenty."

We stopped two or three days at this place and then returned home.
All went well on the journey; we were glad to be in our own stable again,
and John was equally glad to see us.

Before he and James left us for the night James said,
"I wonder who is coming in my place."

"Little Joe Green at the lodge," said John.

"Little Joe Green! why, he's a child!"

"He is fourteen and a half," said John.

"But he is such a little chap!"

"Yes, he is small, but he is quick and willing, and kind-hearted, too,
and then he wishes very much to come, and his father would like it;
and I know the master would like to give him the chance.
He said if I thought he would not do he would look out for a bigger boy;
but I said I was quite agreeable to try him for six weeks."

"Six weeks!" said James; "why, it will be six months before he can be
of much use! It will make you a deal of work, John."

"Well," said John with a laugh, "work and I are very good friends;
I never was afraid of work yet."

"You are a very good man," said James. "I wish I may ever be like you."

"I don't often speak of myself," said John, "but as you are going
away from us out into the world to shift for yourself I'll just tell you
how I look on these things. I was just as old as Joseph
when my father and mother died of the fever within ten days of each other,
and left me and my cripple sister Nelly alone in the world,
without a relation that we could look to for help. I was a farmer's boy,
not earning enough to keep myself, much less both of us,
and she must have gone to the workhouse but for our mistress
(Nelly calls her her angel, and she has good right to do so).
She went and hired a room for her with old Widow Mallet,
and she gave her knitting and needlework when she was able to do it;
and when she was ill she sent her dinners and many nice, comfortable things,
and was like a mother to her. Then the master he took me into the stable
under old Norman, the coachman that was then. I had my food at the house
and my bed in the loft, and a suit of clothes, and three shillings a week,
so that I could help Nelly. Then there was Norman;
he might have turned round and said at his age he could not be troubled
with a raw boy from the plow-tail, but he was like a father to me,
and took no end of pains with me. When the old man died some years after
I stepped into his place, and now of course I have top wages,
and can lay by for a rainy day or a sunny day, as it may happen,
and Nelly is as happy as a bird. So you see, James, I am not the man
that should turn up his nose at a little boy and vex a good, kind master.
No, no! I shall miss you very much, James, but we shall pull through,
and there's nothing like doing a kindness when 'tis put in your way,
and I am glad I can do it."

"Then," said James, "you don't hold with that saying,
`Everybody look after himself, and take care of number one'?"

"No, indeed," said John, "where should I and Nelly have been
if master and mistress and old Norman had only taken care of number one?

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