Black Beauty The autobiography of a horse
down his pipe first. Dick denied taking the pipe with him, but no one
believed him. I remember our John Manly's rule, never to allow a pipe in
the stable, and thought it ought to be the rule everywhere.
James said the roof and floor had all fallen in, and that only the black
walls were standing; the two poor horses that could not be got out were
buried under the burnt rafters and tiles.
17 John Manly's Talk
The rest of our journey was very easy, and a little after sunset we
reached the house of my master's friend. We were taken into a clean,
snug stable; there was a kind coachman, who made us very comfortable,
and who seemed to think a good deal of James when he heard about the
fire.
“There is one thing quite clear, young man,” he said, “your horses know
who they can trust; it is one of the hardest things in the world to get
horses out of a stable when there is either fire or flood. I don't know
why they won't come out, but they won't--not one in twenty.”
We stopped two or three days at this place and then returned home. All
went well on the journey; we were glad to be in our own stable again,
and John was equally glad to see us.
Before he and James left us for the night James said, “I wonder who is
coming in my place.”
“Little Joe Green at the lodge,” said John.
“Little Joe Green! why, he's a child!”
“He is fourteen and a half,” said John.
“But he is such a little chap!”
“Yes, he is small, but he is quick and willing, and kind-hearted, too,
and then he wishes very much to come, and his father would like it;
and I know the master would like to give him the chance. He said if I
thought he would not do he would look out for a bigger boy; but I said I
was quite agreeable to try him for six weeks.”
“Six weeks!” said James; “why, it will be six months before he can be of
much use! It will make you a deal of work, John.”
“Well,” said John with a laugh, “work and I are very good friends; I
never was afraid of work yet.”
“You are a very good man,” said James. “I wish I may ever be like you.”
“I don't often speak of myself,” said John, “but as you are going away
from us out into the world to shift for yourself I'll just tell you how
I look on these things. I was just as old as Joseph when my father and
mother died of the fever within ten days of each other, and left me and
my cripple sister Nelly alone in the world, without a relation that we
could look to for help. I was a farmer's boy, not earning enough to keep
myself, much less both of us, and she must have gone to the workhouse
but for our mistress (Nelly calls her her angel, and she has good right
to do so). She went and hired a room for her with old Widow Mallet, and
she gave her knitting and needlework when she was able to do it; and
when she was ill she sent her dinners and many nice, comfortable things,
and was like a mother to her. Then the master he took me into the stable
under old Norman, the coachman that was then. I had my food at the house
and my bed in the loft, and a suit of clothes, and three shillings a
week, so that I could help Nelly. Then there was Norman; he might have
turned round and said at his age he could not be troubled with a raw boy
from the plow-tail, but he was like a father to me, and took no end of
pains with me. When the old man died some years after I stepped into his
place, and now of course I have top wages, and can lay by for a rainy
day or a sunny day, as it may happen, and Nelly is as happy as a bird.
So you see, James, I am not the man that should turn up his nose at a
little boy and vex a good, kind master. No, no! I shall miss you very
much, James, but we shall pull through, and there's nothing like doing a
kindness when 'tis put in your way, and I am glad I can do it.”
“Then,” said James, “you don't hold with that saying, 'Everybody look
after himself, and take care of number one'?”
“No, indeed,” said John, “where should I and Nelly have been if master
and mistress and old Norman had only taken care of number one? Why,
she in the workhouse and I hoeing turnips! Where would Black Beauty and
Ginger have been if you had only thought of number one? why, roasted to
death! No, Jim, no! that is a selfish, heathenish saying, whoever uses
it; and any man who thinks he has nothing to do but take care of number
one, why, it's a pity but what he had been drowned like a puppy or a
kitten, before he got his eyes open; that's what I think,” said John,
with a very decided jerk of his head.
James laughed at this; but there was a thickness in his voice when he
said, “You have been my best friend except my mother; I hope you won't
forget me.”
“No, lad, no!” said John, “and if ever I can do you a good turn I hope
you won't forget me.”
The next day Joe came to the stables to learn all he could before James
left. He learned to sweep the stable, to bring in the straw and hay; he
began to clean the harness, and helped to wash the carriage. As he was
quite too short to do anything in the way of grooming Ginger and me,
James taught him upon Merrylegs, for he was to have full charge of
him, under John. He was a nice little bright fellow, and always came
whistling to his work.
Merrylegs was a good deal put out at being “mauled about,” as he said,
“by a boy who knew nothing;” but toward the end of the second week he
told me confidentially that he thought the boy would turn out well.
At last the day came when James had to leave us; cheerful as he always
was, he looked quite down-hearted that morning.
“You see,” he said to John, “I am leaving a great deal behind; my mother
and Betsy, and you, and a good master and mistress, and then the horses,
and my old Merrylegs. At the new place there will not be a soul that I
shall know. If it were not that I shall get a higher place, and be able
to help my mother better, I don't think I should have made up my mind to
it; it is a real pinch, John.”
“Ay, James, lad, so it is; but I should not think much of you if you
could leave your home for the first time and not feel it. Cheer up,
you'll make friends there; and if you get on well, as I am sure you
will, it will be a fine thing for your mother, and she will be proud
enough that you have got into such a good place as that.”
So John cheered him up, but every one was sorry to lose James; as for
Merrylegs, he pined after him for several days, and went quite off his
appetite. So John took him out several mornings with a leading rein,
when he exercised me, and, trotting and galloping by my side, got up the
little fellow's spirits again, and he was soon all right.
Joe's father would often come in and give a little help, as he
understood the work; and Joe took a great deal of pains to learn, and
John was quite encouraged about him.
18 Going for the Doctor
One night, a few days after James had left, I had eaten my hay and was
lying down in my straw fast asleep, when I was suddenly roused by the
stable bell ringing very loud. I heard the door of John's house open,
and his feet running up to the hall. He was back again in no time; he
unlocked the stable door, and came in, calling out, “Wake up, Beauty!
You must go well now, if ever you did;” and almost before I could think
he had got the saddle on my back and the bridle on my head. He just
ran round for his coat, and then took me at a quick trot up to the hall
door. The squire stood there, with a lamp in his hand.
“Now, John,” he said, “ride for your life--that is, for your mistress'
life; there is not a moment to lose. Give this note to Dr. White; give
your horse a rest at the inn, and be back as soon as you can.”
John said, “Yes, sir,” and was on my back in a minute. The gardener who
lived at the lodge had heard the bell ring, and was ready with the gate
open, and away we went through the park, and through the village, and
down the hill till we came to the toll-gate. John called very loud and
thumped upon the door; the man was soon out and flung open the gate.
“Now,” said John, “do you keep the gate open for the doctor; here's the
money,” and off he went again.
There was before us a long piece of level road by the river side; John
said to me, “Now, Beauty, do your best,” and so I did; I wanted no whip
nor spur, and for two miles I galloped as fast as I could lay my feet to
the ground; I don't believe that my old grandfather, who won the race
at Newmarket, could have gone faster. When we came to the bridge John
pulled me up a little and patted my neck. “Well done, Beauty! good old
fellow,” he said. He would have let me go slower, but my spirit was up,
and I was off again as fast as before. The air was frosty, the moon was
bright; it was very pleasant. We came through a village, then through
a dark wood, then uphill, then downhill, till after eight miles' run we
came to the town, through the streets and into the market-place. It was
all quite still except the clatter of my feet on the stones--everybody
was asleep. The church clock struck three as we drew up at Dr. White's
door. John rang the bell twice, and then knocked at the door like
thunder. A window was thrown up, and Dr. White, in his nightcap, put his
head out and said, “What do you want?”
“Mrs. Gordon is very ill, sir; master wants you to go at once; he thinks
she will die if you cannot get there. Here is a note.”
“Wait,” he said, “I will come.”
He shut the window, and was soon at the door.
“The worst of it is,” he said, “that my horse has been out all day and
is quite done up; my son has just been sent for, and he has taken the
other. What is to be done? Can I have your horse?”
“He has come at a gallop nearly all the way, sir, and I was to give him
a rest here; but I think my master would not be against it, if you think
fit, sir.”
“All right,” he said; “I will soon be ready.”
John stood by me and stroked my neck; I was very hot. The doctor came
out with his riding-whip.
“You need not take that, sir,” said John; “Black Beauty will go till he
drops. Take care of him, sir, if you can; I should not like any harm to
come to him.”
“No, no, John,” said the doctor, “I hope not,” and in a minute we had
left John far behind.
I will not tell about our way back. The doctor was a heavier man than
John, and not so good a rider; however, I did my very best. The man at
the toll-gate had it open. When we came to the hill the doctor drew me
up. “Now, my good fellow,” he said, “take some breath.” I was glad he
did, for I was nearly spent, but that breathing helped me on, and soon
we were in the park. Joe was at the lodge gate; my master was at the
hall door, for he had heard us coming. He spoke not a word; the doctor
went into the house with him, and Joe led me to the stable. I was glad
to get home; my legs shook under me, and I could only stand and pant. I
had not a dry hair on my body, the water ran down my legs, and I steamed
all over, Joe used to say, like a pot on the fire. Poor Joe! he was
young and small, and as yet he knew very little, and his father, who
would have helped him, had been sent to the next village; but I am sure
he did the very best he knew. He rubbed my legs and my chest, but he did
not put my warm cloth on me; he thought I was so hot I should not like
it. Then he gave me a pailful of water to drink; it was cold and very
good, and I drank it all; then he gave me some hay and some corn, and
thinking he had done right, he went away. Soon I began to shake and
tremble, and turned deadly cold; my legs ached, my loins ached, and my
chest ached, and I felt sore all over. Oh! how I wished for my warm,
thick cloth, as I stood and trembled. I wished for John, but he had
eight miles to walk, so I lay down in my straw and tried to go to sleep.
After a long while I heard John at the door; I gave a low moan, for I