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Black Beauty
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.