Black Beauty
Anna Sewell
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BLACK BEAUTY
The Autobiography of a Horse
by Anna Sewell [English Quaker -- 1820-1878.]
[Note: 'Black Beauty' was originally published in 1877. This etext was
transcribed from an American edition of 1911. Some small corrections
were made, after being confirmed against other sources.]
To my dear and honored Mother,
whose life, no less than her pen,
has been devoted to the welfare of others,
this little book is affectionately dedicated.
Contents
Part I
Chapter
01 My Early Home
02 The Hunt
03 My Breaking In
04 Birtwick Park
05 A Fair Start
06 Liberty
07 Ginger
08 Ginger's Story Continued
09 Merrylegs
10 A Talk in the Orchard
11 Plain Speaking
12 A Stormy Day
13 The Devil's Trade Mark
14 James Howard
15 The Old Hostler
16 The Fire
17 John Manly's Talk
18 Going for the Doctor
19 Only Ignorance
20 Joe Green
21 The Parting
Part II
22 Earlshall
23 A Strike for Liberty
24 The Lady Anne, or a Runaway Horse
25 Reuben Smith
26 How it Ended
27 Ruined and Going Downhill
28 A Job Horse and His Drivers
29 Cockneys
30 A Thief
31 A Humbug
Part III
32 A Horse Fair
33 A London Cab Horse
34 An Old War Horse
35 Jerry Barker
36 The Sunday Cab
37 The Golden Rule
38 Dolly and a Real Gentleman
39 Seedy Sam
40 Poor Ginger
41 The Butcher
42 The Election
43 A Friend in Need
44 Old Captain and His Successor
45 Jerry's New Year
Part IV
46 Jakes and the Lady
47 Hard Times
48 Farmer Thoroughgood and His Grandson Willie
49 My Last Home
Black Beauty
Part I
01 My Early Home
The first place that I can well remember was a large pleasant meadow
with a pond of clear water in it. Some shady trees leaned over it, and
rushes and water-lilies grew at the deep end. Over the hedge on one side
we looked into a plowed field, and on the other we looked over a gate
at our master's house, which stood by the roadside; at the top of the
meadow was a grove of fir trees, and at the bottom a running brook
overhung by a steep bank.
While I was young I lived upon my mother's milk, as I could not eat
grass. In the daytime I ran by her side, and at night I lay down close
by her. When it was hot we used to stand by the pond in the shade of the
trees, and when it was cold we had a nice warm shed near the grove.
As soon as I was old enough to eat grass my mother used to go out to
work in the daytime, and come back in the evening.
There were six young colts in the meadow besides me; they were older
than I was; some were nearly as large as grown-up horses. I used to run
with them, and had great fun; we used to gallop all together round and
round the field as hard as we could go. Sometimes we had rather rough
play, for they would frequently bite and kick as well as gallop.
One day, when there was a good deal of kicking, my mother whinnied to me
to come to her, and then she said:
"I wish you to pay attention to what I am going to say to you. The colts
who live here are very good colts, but they are cart-horse colts, and
of course they have not learned manners. You have been well-bred
and well-born; your father has a great name in these parts, and
your grandfather won the cup two years at the Newmarket races; your
grandmother had the sweetest temper of any horse I ever knew, and I
think you have never seen me kick or bite. I hope you will grow up
gentle and good, and never learn bad ways; do your work with a good
will, lift your feet up well when you trot, and never bite or kick even
in play."
I have never forgotten my mother's advice; I knew she was a wise old
horse, and our master thought a great deal of her. Her name was Duchess,
but he often called her Pet.
Our master was a good, kind man. He gave us good food, good lodging, and
kind words; he spoke as kindly to us as he did to his little children.
We were all fond of him, and my mother loved him very much. When she saw
him at the gate she would neigh with joy, and trot up to him. He would
pat and stroke her and say, "Well, old Pet, and how is your little
Darkie?" I was a dull black, so he called me Darkie; then he would give
me a piece of bread, which was very good, and sometimes he brought a
carrot for my mother. All the horses would come to him, but I think we
were his favorites. My mother always took him to the town on a market
day in a light gig.
There was a plowboy, Dick, who sometimes came into our field to pluck
blackberries from the hedge. When he had eaten all he wanted he would
have what he called fun with the colts, throwing stones and sticks at
them to make them gallop. We did not much mind him, for we could gallop
off; but sometimes a stone would hit and hurt us.
One day he was at this game, and did not know that the master was in the
next field; but he was there, watching what was going on; over the hedge
he jumped in a snap, and catching Dick by the arm, he gave him such a
box on the ear as made him roar with the pain and surprise. As soon as
we saw the master we trotted up nearer to see what went on.
"Bad boy!" he said, "bad boy! to chase the colts. This is not the first
time, nor the second, but it shall be the last. There--take your money
and go home; I shall not want you on my farm again." So we never saw
Dick any more. Old Daniel, the man who looked after the horses, was just
as gentle as our master, so we were well off.
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