Black Beauty

The bigheaded little creep! ‘Are you going to live
in the next box?’ he asked.
    I said, ‘Yes.’ There are
fields and meadows all round but these bastards make me live in a box.
    A horse’s head looked over
from the stall beyond.
    ‘So it’s you who has turned
me out of my box; it’s an outrage for a colt like you to come and turn a horse
out I of his own home.’
    ‘The thing is this,’ said
Merrylegs, ‘Ginger has the habit of biting and snapping and kicking people in
the balls: that is why they call him Ginger. One day he bit James in the arm
and made it bleed.’ Good. ‘Miss Flora and Miss Jessie, who are very fond of me,
were afraid to come into the stable for fear of being kicked and bitten. They
used to bring me nice things to eat — steak and chips and spaghetti
Neapolitan.’
    I told him I never bit
anything but grass, hay, corn and people.
    ‘Well,’ said Merrylegs, ‘I
don’t think he does find pleasure in it.’
    ‘Nonsense,’ I said, ‘there
is no greater pleasure than biting and kicking people.’
    ‘John is the best groom
that ever was; he tries to please Ginger. He plays him Schumann’s Violin
Concerto. He has been here fourteen years and he is still as simple as when he
started. He says his brain hurts if he thinks. And you never saw such a kind
boy as James is; so it’s all Ginger’s own fault that he did not stay in that
box.’

A FAIR START
     
    One morning, after a grooming by John
    The Squire asked him to take me on
    He put on a saddle and rode very slow
    So I threw him off and I jolly well did go
    I galloped everywhere
    But didn’t seem to get anywhere
    Finally knackered, I was just able
    To crawl back to the stable
    The stableboy James was always around
    Sometimes, for fun, I would trample him into the ground
    But after three weeks in hospital ’tis true
    He came back, good as new.
     
    The name of the coachman
was John Manly; the name of his coach was Percy; he had a wife and one little
child, and they lived in the coachman’s cottage.
    The next morning, he took
me into the yard and gave me a good grooming, and just as I was going into my
box with my coat soft and bright, the Squire came in to look at me, and seemed
pleased.
    John,’ he said, ‘I meant to
have tried the new horse this morning, but I have other business. You may as
well take him a round after breakfast; go by the common and the Highwood, and
back by the water mill and the river, through Swansea and Kent; that will show
his paces.’
    ‘I will, sir,’ said John.
    After breakfast he came and
fitted me with a bridle. Then he brought the saddle, which was not broad enough
for my back; he saw it in a minute, and in another minute went for a bigger
one, which fitted nicely. He rode me slowly at first, then a trot, then a
canter, and when we were on the common, he gave me a light touch with his whip,
and we had a splendid gallop at 100 miles per hour.
    ‘Ho, ho! my boy,’ he said,
as he pulled me up with that powerful wrist, ‘you would like to follow the
hounds, I think.’ The fool! I never want to follow hounds.
    As we came back through the
Park we met the Squire and Mrs Gordon, walking; they stopped, and John jumped
off and fractured his ankle.
    ‘Well, John, how does he
go?’
    ‘He is as fleet as a deer,
and has a fine spirit too; the lightest touch of the rein will guide him but
don’t stand behind him or he’ll kick your balls. Down at the end of the common
they were shooting rabbits near the High-wood — people rarely see horses
shooting rabbits. A gun went off close by so he pulled up a little and looked;
it was another horse shooting rabbits. I just held the rein steady and did not
hurry him, and it’s my opinion he has not been frightened or ill-used while he
was young.’
    ‘That’s well,’ said the
Squire, ‘I will try him myself tomorrow.’
    The next day I was brought
up for my master. I remembered my mother’s counsel, and my good old master’s,
and I tried to do exactly what he wanted me to do. I found he was a very good
rider; once or twice I threw him; landing on his head, he became an imbecile.
And thoughtful for his horse too; we didn’t use the crap-per, so I could crap.
When we came home, the lady was at the hall door as he rode up.
    ‘Well, my dear,’ she said,
‘how do you like him?’
    ‘Der he trew me on my hed,’
he replied; ‘pleasanter creature I never wished to mount. What shall we call
him?’
    ‘Would you like Nigger?’
said she. ‘He is as