Black Beauty

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    One day, die groom cleaned
and dressed me in a suit with such extraordinary care that I thought some new change
must be at hand; he trimmed my fetlocks and legs, passed the tarbrush over my
hoofs, parted my forelock, and flattened it down with Macassar oil. I think the
harness had an extra polish. Willie seemed half-anxious, half-merry as he got
into the chaise with his grandfather.
    ‘If the ladies take to
him,’ said the old gentleman, ‘they’ll be suited.’
    We came to a pretty, low
house with a lawn and shrubbery at the front, and a drive up to the door.
Willie rang the bell and asked if Miss Blomefield or Miss Ellen was at home.
Yes, they were. So, whilst Willie stayed with me, Mr Thoroughgood went into the
house. In about ten minutes he returned, followed by three ladies. The younger
lady — that was Miss Ellen — took to me very much; she said she was sure she would
like me.
    ‘You have always been such
a good adviser to us about our horses, and sexual proclivities,’ said the
stately lady, ‘we will accept your offer of a trial.’ At the trial they were
found Not Guilty.
    One morning, a
smart-looking young man who was held together with acne came for me. When he
saw my knees, he said:
    ‘I didn’t think, sir, you
would have recommended my ladies a horse with knock-knees.’
    ‘You are only taking him on
trial, young man, and if he is not as safe as any horse you ever drove, send
him back,’ said my master.
    I was led home, placed in a
comfortable stable, fed and left to myself. The next day, when my groom was
cleaning my face, he said:
    ‘That is just like the star
that Black Beauty had; he is much the same height too.’ He began to look me
over carefully, talking to himself:
    ‘White star in the
forehead, one white foot on the off side, this little knot just in that place’
— then, looking at the middle of my back — ‘Good heavens! it must be Black
Beauty; there is that little patch of white hair that John used to call
Beauty’s threepenny bit. It must be Black Beauty!’ (Good heavens, it was
Black Beauty!) ‘Why, Beauty! Beauty! Do you know me? Little Joe Green, that
almost killed you?’
    I could not say that I
remembered him, for now he was a fine-grown young fellow, with black whiskers
and a man’s voice, and cross eyes — no wonder he nearly killed me. He was Joe
Green. I never saw a man so pleased. He was so pleased that he climbed a tree
and jumped in the river; they had to drag the water.
    ‘Give you a fair trial? I
should think so indeed! I wonder who the rascal was that broke your knees, my
old Beauty? You must have been badly served out there somewhere.’ Yes, out
there somewhere, I was.
    ‘Well, well, it won’t be my
fault if you haven’t good times of it now. I wish John Manly was here to see
you.’ He wished and wished, but John Manly didn’t appear; mainly because he was
dead.
    In the afternoon, I was put
into a low Park chair and pushed to the door. Miss Ellen was going to try me. I
soon found that she was a good driver, and she seemed pleased with my paces. I
heard Joe telling her about me.
    ‘I shall certainly write to
Mrs Gordon, and tell her that her favourite horse has come to us with
knock-knees. How pleased she will be!’
    The swine, how dare he give
away my knock-knees. So the next day, I kicked him in the balls. It was like
old times.
    I have now lived in this
happy place a whole year; I have my own bedroom with a bathroom ensuite. Joe is
the best and kindest of grooms, but with the curse of cross eyes keeps missing
me. My work is easy and pleasant (I help wash up in the kitchen), and I feel my
strength all coming back. Mr Thoroughgood said to Joe the other day:
    ‘He will last till he is
twenty years old — perhaps more.’ My ladies have promised that I shall never be
sold, and so I have nothing to fear; and here my story ends. My troubles are
over, all over me, hah, and I am at home; and often, before I am quite awake, I
fancy I am still in the orchard at Birtwick, standing with my old friends under
the apple trees and Dick the plough throwing stones at us.