ArcaMax Publishing > Books > Fiction > Black Beauty > Section 41
Black Beauty

Anna Sewell

Section 41 of 49 - Table of Contents
41 The Butcher


I saw a great deal of trouble among the horses in London, and much of
it might have been prevented by a little common sense. We horses do not
mind hard work if we are treated reasonably, and I am sure there are
many driven by quite poor men who have a happier life than I had when I
used to go in the Countess of W----'s carriage, with my silver-mounted
harness and high feeding.

It often went to my heart to see how the little ponies were used,
straining along with heavy loads or staggering under heavy blows from
some low, cruel boy. Once I saw a little gray pony with a thick mane
and a pretty head, and so much like Merrylegs that if I had not been in
harness I should have neighed to him. He was doing his best to pull a
heavy cart, while a strong rough boy was cutting him under the belly
with his whip and chucking cruelly at his little mouth. Could it be
Merrylegs? It was just like him; but then Mr. Blomefield was never to
sell him, and I think he would not do it; but this might have been quite
as good a little fellow, and had as happy a place when he was young.

I often noticed the great speed at which butchers' horses were made to
go, though I did not know why it was so till one day when we had to wait
some time in St. John's Wood. There was a butcher's shop next door, and
as we were standing a butcher's cart came dashing up at a great pace.
The horse was hot and much exhausted; he hung his head down, while his
heaving sides and trembling legs showed how hard he had been driven. The
lad jumped out of the cart and was getting the basket when the master
came out of the shop much displeased. After looking at the horse he
turned angrily to the lad.

"How many times shall I tell you not to drive in this way? You ruined
the last horse and broke his wind, and you are going to ruin this in the
same way. If you were not my own son I would dismiss you on the spot;
it is a disgrace to have a horse brought to the shop in a condition like
that; you are liable to be taken up by the police for such driving, and
if you are you need not look to me for bail, for I have spoken to you
till I'm tired; you must look out for yourself."

During this speech the boy had stood by, sullen and dogged, but when his
father ceased he broke out angrily. It wasn't his fault, and he wouldn't
take the blame; he was only going by orders all the time.

"You always say, 'Now be quick; now look sharp!' and when I go to the
houses one wants a leg of mutton for an early dinner and I must be back
with it in a quarter of an hour; another cook has forgotten to order
the beef; I must go and fetch it and be back in no time, or the
mistress will scold; and the housekeeper says they have company coming
unexpectedly and must have some chops sent up directly; and the lady at
No. 4, in the Crescent, never orders her dinner till the meat comes
in for lunch, and it's nothing but hurry, hurry, all the time. If the
gentry would think of what they want, and order their meat the day
before, there need not be this blow up!"

"I wish to goodness they would," said the butcher; "'twould save me a
wonderful deal of harass, and I could suit my customers much better if
I knew beforehand--But there! what's the use of talking--who ever thinks
of a butcher's convenience or a butcher's horse! Now, then, take him
in and look to him well; mind, he does not go out again to-day, and if
anything else is wanted you must carry it yourself in the basket." With
that he went in, and the horse was led away.

But all boys are not cruel. I have seen some as fond of their pony or
donkey as if it had been a favorite dog, and the little creatures have
worked away as cheerfully and willingly for their young drivers as I
work for Jerry. It may be hard work sometimes, but a friend's hand and
voice make it easy.

There was a young coster-boy who came up our street with greens and
potatoes; he had an old pony, not very handsome, but the cheerfullest
and pluckiest little thing I ever saw, and to see how fond those two
were of each other was a treat. The pony followed his master like a dog,
and when he got into his cart would trot off without a whip or a word,
and rattle down the street as merrily as if he had come out of the
queen's stables. Jerry liked the boy, and called him "Prince Charlie",
for he said he would make a king of drivers some day.

There was an old man, too, who used to come up our street with a little
coal cart; he wore a coal-heaver's hat, and looked rough and black. He
and his old horse used to plod together along the street, like two good
partners who understood each other; the horse would stop of his own
accord at the doors where they took coal of him; he used to keep one ear
bent toward his master. The old man's cry could be heard up the street
long before he came near. I never knew what he said, but the children
called him "Old Ba-a-ar Hoo", for it sounded like that. Polly took her
coal of him, and was very friendly, and Jerry said it was a comfort to
think how happy an old horse might be in a poor place.
Prev Next All
Printer Friendly Version | Send this page to a friend | Discuss this Book
Your email address is safe with us. View our Privacy policy.

A Doll's House Henrik Ibsen Category: Plays Sections: 12 What's this? Table of Contents		Non Fiction Short Stories Poetry Plays Sci Fi Philosophy Religion Biography