Black Beauty The autobiography of a horse
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.
42 The Election
As we came into the yard one afternoon Polly came out. “Jerry! I've had
Mr. B---- here asking about your vote, and he wants to hire your cab for
the election; he will call for an answer.”
“Well, Polly, you may say that my cab will be otherwise engaged. I
should not like to have it pasted over with their great bills, and as
to making Jack and Captain race about to the public-houses to bring up
half-drunken voters, why, I think 'twould be an insult to the horses.
No, I shan't do it.”
“I suppose you'll vote for the gentleman? He said he was of your
politics.”
“So he is in some things, but I shall not vote for him, Polly; you know
what his trade is?”
“Yes.”
“Well, a man who gets rich by that trade may be all very well in some
ways, but he is blind as to what workingmen want; I could not in my
conscience send him up to make the laws. I dare say they'll be angry,
but every man must do what he thinks to be the best for his country.”
On the morning before the election, Jerry was putting me into the
shafts, when Dolly came into the yard sobbing and crying, with her
little blue frock and white pinafore spattered all over with mud.
“Why, Dolly, what is the matter?”
“Those naughty boys,” she sobbed, “have thrown the dirt all over me, and
called me a little raga--raga--”
“They called her a little 'blue' ragamuffin, father,” said Harry, who
ran in looking very angry; “but I have given it to them; they won't
insult my sister again. I have given them a thrashing they will
remember; a set of cowardly, rascally 'orange' blackguards.”
Jerry kissed the child and said, “Run in to mother, my pet, and tell her
I think you had better stay at home to-day and help her.”
Then turning gravely to Harry:
“My boy, I hope you will always defend your sister, and give anybody who
insults her a good thrashing--that is as it should be; but mind, I won't
have any election blackguarding on my premises. There are as many
'blue' blackguards as there are 'orange', and as many white as there are
purple, or any other color, and I won't have any of my family mixed up
with it. Even women and children are ready to quarrel for the sake of a
color, and not one in ten of them knows what it is about.”
“Why, father, I thought blue was for Liberty.”
“My boy, Liberty does not come from colors, they only show party, and
all the liberty you can get out of them is, liberty to get drunk at
other people's expense, liberty to ride to the poll in a dirty old cab,
liberty to abuse any one that does not wear your color, and to shout
yourself hoarse at what you only half-understand--that's your liberty!”
“Oh, father, you are laughing.”
“No, Harry, I am serious, and I am ashamed to see how men go on who
ought to know better. An election is a very serious thing; at least it
ought to be, and every man ought to vote according to his conscience,
and let his neighbor do the same.”
43 A Friend in Need
The election day came at last; there was no lack of work for Jerry and
me. First came a stout puffy gentleman with a carpet bag; he wanted to
go to the Bishopsgate station; then we were called by a party who wished
to be taken to the Regent's Park; and next we were wanted in a side
street where a timid, anxious old lady was waiting to be taken to the
bank; there we had to stop to take her back again, and just as we had
set her down a red-faced gentleman, with a handful of papers, came
running up out of breath, and before Jerry could get down he had opened
the door, popped himself in, and called out, “Bow Street Police Station,
quick!” so off we went with him, and when after another turn or two
we came back, there was no other cab on the stand. Jerry put on my
nose-bag, for as he said, “We must eat when we can on such days as
these; so munch away, Jack, and make the best of your time, old boy.”
I found I had a good feed of crushed oats wetted up with a little bran;
this would be a treat any day, but very refreshing then. Jerry was so
thoughtful and kind--what horse would not do his best for such a master?
Then he took out one of Polly's meat pies, and standing near me, he
began to eat it. The streets were very full, and the cabs, with the
candidates' colors on them, were dashing about through the crowd as if
life and limb were of no consequence; we saw two people knocked down
that day, and one was a woman. The horses were having a bad time of it,
poor things! but the voters inside thought nothing of that; many of them
were half-drunk, hurrahing out of the cab windows if their own party
came by. It was the first election I had seen, and I don't want to be in
another, though I have heard things are better now.
Jerry and I had not eaten many mouthfuls before a poor young woman,
carrying a heavy child, came along the street. She was looking this way
and that way, and seemed quite bewildered. Presently she made her way up
to Jerry and asked if he could tell her the way to St. Thomas' Hospital,
and how far it was to get there. She had come from the country that
morning, she said, in a market cart; she did not know about the
election, and was quite a stranger in London. She had got an order for
the hospital for her little boy. The child was crying with a feeble,
pining cry.
“Poor little fellow!” she said, “he suffers a deal of pain; he is four
years old and can't walk any more than a baby; but the doctor said if I
could get him into the hospital he might get well; pray, sir, how far is
it; and which way is it?”
“Why, missis,” said Jerry, “you can't get there walking through crowds
like this! why, it is three miles away, and that child is heavy.”
“Yes, bless him, he is; but I am strong, thank God, and if I knew the
way I think I should get on somehow; please tell me the way.”
“You can't do it,” said Jerry, “you might be knocked down and the child
be run over. Now look here, just get into this cab, and I'll drive you
safe to the hospital. Don't you see the rain is coming on?”
“No, sir, no; I can't do that, thank you, I have only just money enough
to get back with. Please tell me the way.”
“Look you here, missis,” said Jerry, “I've got a wife and dear children
at home, and I know a father's feelings; now get you into that cab, and
I'll take you there for nothing. I'd be ashamed of myself to let a woman
and a sick child run a risk like that.”
“Heaven bless you!” said the woman, and burst into tears.
“There, there, cheer up, my dear, I'll soon take you there; come, let me
put you inside.”
As Jerry went to open the door two men, with colors in their hats and
buttonholes, ran up calling out, “Cab!”
“Engaged,” cried Jerry; but one of the men, pushing past the woman,
sprang into the cab, followed by the other. Jerry looked as stern as a
policeman. “This cab is already engaged, gentlemen, by that lady.”