Black Beauty The autobiography of a horse
foundling and expect him to take care of it; and don't you see, if you
are always sitting on your box waiting for a fare, they will say, 'If we
don't take him some one else will, and he does not look for any Sunday.'
Of course, they don't go to the bottom of it, or they would see if they
never came for a cab it would be no use your standing there; but
people don't always like to go to the bottom of things; it may not be
convenient to do it; but if you Sunday drivers would all strike for a
day of rest the thing would be done.”
“And what would all the good people do if they could not get to their
favorite preachers?” said Larry.
“'Tis not for me to lay down plans for other people,” said Jerry, “but
if they can't walk so far they can go to what is nearer; and if it
should rain they can put on their mackintoshes as they do on a week-day.
If a thing is right it can be done, and if it is wrong it can be done
without; and a good man will find a way. And that is as true for us
cabmen as it is for the church-goers.”
37 The Golden Rule
Two or three weeks after this, as we came into the yard rather late in
the evening, Polly came running across the road with the lantern (she
always brought it to him if it was not very wet).
“It has all come right, Jerry; Mrs. Briggs sent her servant this
afternoon to ask you to take her out to-morrow at eleven o'clock. I
said, 'Yes, I thought so, but we supposed she employed some one else
now.'”
“'Well,' said he, 'the real fact is, master was put out because Mr.
Barker refused to come on Sundays, and he has been trying other cabs,
but there's something wrong with them all; some drive too fast, and some
too slow, and the mistress says there is not one of them so nice and
clean as yours, and nothing will suit her but Mr. Barker's cab again.'”
Polly was almost out of breath, and Jerry broke out into a merry laugh.
“''Twill all come right some day or night': you were right, my dear; you
generally are. Run in and get the supper, and I'll have Jack's harness
off and make him snug and happy in no time.”
After this Mrs. Briggs wanted Jerry's cab quite as often as before,
never, however, on a Sunday; but there came a day when we had Sunday
work, and this was how it happened. We had all come home on the Saturday
night very tired, and very glad to think that the next day would be all
rest, but so it was not to be.
On Sunday morning Jerry was cleaning me in the yard, when Polly stepped
up to him, looking very full of something.
“What is it?” said Jerry.
“Well, my dear,” she said, “poor Dinah Brown has just had a letter
brought to say that her mother is dangerously ill, and that she must
go directly if she wishes to see her alive. The place is more than ten
miles away from here, out in the country, and she says if she takes the
train she should still have four miles to walk; and so weak as she is,
and the baby only four weeks old, of course that would be impossible;
and she wants to know if you would take her in your cab, and she
promises to pay you faithfully, as she can get the money.”
“Tut, tut! we'll see about that. It was not the money I was thinking
about, but of losing our Sunday; the horses are tired, and I am tired,
too--that's where it pinches.”
“It pinches all round, for that matter,” said Polly, “for it's only
half Sunday without you, but you know we should do to other people as
we should like they should do to us; and I know very well what I should
like if my mother was dying; and Jerry, dear, I am sure it won't break
the Sabbath; for if pulling a poor beast or donkey out of a pit would
not spoil it, I am quite sure taking poor Dinah would not do it.”
“Why, Polly, you are as good as the minister, and so, as I've had my
Sunday-morning sermon early to-day, you may go and tell Dinah that I'll
be ready for her as the clock strikes ten; but stop--just step round to
butcher Braydon's with my compliments, and ask him if he would lend me
his light trap; I know he never uses it on the Sunday, and it would make
a wonderful difference to the horse.”
Away she went, and soon returned, saying that he could have the trap and
welcome.
“All right,” said he; “now put me up a bit of bread and cheese, and I'll
be back in the afternoon as soon as I can.”
“And I'll have the meat pie ready for an early tea instead of for
dinner,” said Polly; and away she went, while he made his preparations
to the tune of “Polly's the woman and no mistake”, of which tune he was
very fond.
I was selected for the journey, and at ten o'clock we started, in a
light, high-wheeled gig, which ran so easily that after the four-wheeled
cab it seemed like nothing.
It was a fine May day, and as soon as we were out of the town, the sweet
air, the smell of the fresh grass, and the soft country roads were as
pleasant as they used to be in the old times, and I soon began to feel
quite fresh.
Dinah's family lived in a small farmhouse, up a green lane, close by a
meadow with some fine shady trees; there were two cows feeding in it.
A young man asked Jerry to bring his trap into the meadow, and he would
tie me up in the cowshed; he wished he had a better stable to offer.
“If your cows would not be offended,” said Jerry, “there is nothing my
horse would like so well as to have an hour or two in your beautiful
meadow; he's quiet, and it would be a rare treat for him.”
“Do, and welcome,” said the young man; “the best we have is at your
service for your kindness to my sister; we shall be having some dinner
in an hour, and I hope you'll come in, though with mother so ill we are
all out of sorts in the house.”
Jerry thanked him kindly, but said as he had some dinner with him there
was nothing he should like so well as walking about in the meadow.
When my harness was taken off I did not know what I should do
first--whether to eat the grass, or roll over on my back, or lie down
and rest, or have a gallop across the meadow out of sheer spirits at
being free; and I did all by turns. Jerry seemed to be quite as happy
as I was; he sat down by a bank under a shady tree, and listened to the
birds, then he sang himself, and read out of the little brown book he is
so fond of, then wandered round the meadow, and down by a little brook,
where he picked the flowers and the hawthorn, and tied them up with
long sprays of ivy; then he gave me a good feed of the oats which he had
brought with him; but the time seemed all too short--I had not been in a
field since I left poor Ginger at Earlshall.
We came home gently, and Jerry's first words were, as we came into the
yard, “Well, Polly, I have not lost my Sunday after all, for the birds
were singing hymns in every bush, and I joined in the service; and as
for Jack, he was like a young colt.”
When he handed Dolly the flowers she jumped about for joy.
38 Dolly and a Real Gentleman
Winter came in early, with a great deal of cold and wet. There was snow,
or sleet, or rain almost every day for weeks, changing only for keen
driving winds or sharp frosts. The horses all felt it very much. When
it is a dry cold a couple of good thick rugs will keep the warmth in us;
but when it is soaking rain they soon get wet through and are no good.
Some of the drivers had a waterproof cover to throw over, which was a
fine thing; but some of the men were so poor that they could not protect
either themselves or their horses, and many of them suffered very much
that winter. When we horses had worked half the day we went to our dry
stables, and could rest, while they had to sit on their boxes, sometimes
staying out as late as one or two o'clock in the morning if they had a
party to wait for.
When the streets were slippery with frost or snow that was the worst of
all for us horses. One mile of such traveling, with a weight to draw
and no firm footing, would take more out of us than four on a good
road; every nerve and muscle of our bodies is on the strain to keep our
balance; and, added to this, the fear of falling is more exhausting than
anything else. If the roads are very bad indeed our shoes are roughed,
but that makes us feel nervous at first.
When the weather was very bad many of the men would go and sit in the
tavern close by, and get some one to watch for them; but they often
lost a fare in that way, and could not, as Jerry said, be there without
spending money. He never went to the Rising Sun; there was a coffee-shop
near, where he now and then went, or he bought of an old man, who came
to our rank with tins of hot coffee and pies. It was his opinion that
spirits and beer made a man colder afterward, and that dry clothes, good
food, cheerfulness, and a comfortable wife at home, were the best things
to keep a cabman warm. Polly always supplied him with something to eat
when he could not get home, and sometimes he would see little Dolly
peeping from the corner of the street, to make sure if “father” was on
the stand. If she saw him she would run off at full speed and soon come
back with something in a tin or basket, some hot soup or pudding Polly
had ready. It was wonderful how such a little thing could get safely
across the street, often thronged with horses and carriages; but she was
a brave little maid, and felt it quite an honor to bring “father's first
course”, as he used to call it. She was a general favorite on the stand,
and there was not a man who would not have seen her safely across the
street, if Jerry had not been able to do it.
One cold windy day Dolly had brought Jerry a basin of something hot,
and was standing by him while he ate it. He had scarcely begun when
a gentleman, walking toward us very fast, held up his umbrella. Jerry
touched his hat in return, gave the basin to Dolly, and was taking off
my cloth, when the gentleman, hastening up, cried out, “No, no, finish
your soup, my friend; I have not much time to spare, but I can wait
till you have done, and set your little girl safe on the pavement.” So
saying, he seated himself in the cab. Jerry thanked him kindly, and came
back to Dolly.
“There, Dolly, that's a gentleman; that's a real gentleman, Dolly; he
has got time and thought for the comfort of a poor cabman and a little
girl.”
Jerry finished his soup, set the child across, and then took his orders
to drive to Clapham Rise. Several times after that the same gentleman
took our cab. I think he was very fond of dogs and horses, for whenever
we took him to his own door two or three dogs would come bounding out
to meet him. Sometimes he came round and patted me, saying in his quiet,
pleasant way, “This horse has got a good master, and he deserves it.”
It was a very rare thing for any one to notice the horse that had been
working for him. I have known ladies to do it now and then, and this
gentleman, and one or two others have given me a pat and a kind word;
but ninety-nine persons out of a hundred would as soon think of patting
the steam engine that drew the train.
The gentleman was not young, and there was a forward stoop in his
shoulders as if he was always going at something. His lips were thin and
close shut, though they had a very pleasant smile; his eye was keen, and
there was something in his jaw and the motion of his head that made one
think he was very determined in anything he set about. His voice was
pleasant and kind; any horse would trust that voice, though it was just
as decided as everything else about him.
One day he and another gentleman took our cab; they stopped at a shop
in R---- Street, and while his friend went in he stood at the door. A
little ahead of us on the other side of the street a cart with two very
fine horses was standing before some wine vaults; the carter was not
with them, and I cannot tell how long they had been standing, but they