Black Beauty

The first place that I can well remember was a large pleasant
meadow with a pond of clear water in it. Some shady trees leaned
over it, and rushes and water-lilies grew at the deep end. Over the
hedge on one side we looked into a plowed field, and on the other
we looked over a gate at our master's house, which stood by the
roadside; at the top of the meadow was a grove of fir trees, and at
the bottom a running brook overhung by a steep bank.

While I was young I lived upon my mother's milk, as I could not
eat grass. In the daytime I ran by her side, and at night I lay
down close by her. When it was hot we used to stand by the pond in
the shade of the trees, and when it was cold we had a nice warm
shed near the grove.

As soon as I was old enough to eat grass my mother used to go
out to work in the daytime, and come back in the evening.

There were six young colts in the meadow besides me; they were
older than I was; some were nearly as large as grown-up horses. I
used to run with them, and had great fun; we used to gallop all
together round and round the field as hard as we could go.
Sometimes we had rather rough play, for they would frequently bite
and kick as well as gallop.

One day, when there was a good deal of kicking, my mother
whinnied to me to come to her, and then she said:

"I wish you to pay attention to what I am going to say to you.
The colts who live here are very good colts, but they are
cart-horse colts, and of course they have not learned manners. You
have been well-bred and well-born; your father has a great name in
these parts, and your grandfather won the cup two years at the
Newmarket races; your grandmother had the sweetest temper of any
horse I ever knew, and I think you have never seen me kick or bite.
I hope you will grow up gentle and good, and never learn bad ways;
do your work with a good will, lift your feet up well when you
trot, and never bite or kick even in play."

I have never forgotten my mother's advice; I knew she was a wise
old horse, and our master thought a great deal of her. Her name was
Duchess, but he often called her Pet.

Our master was a good, kind man. He gave us good food, good
lodging, and kind words; he spoke as kindly to us as he did to his
little children. We were all fond of him, and my mother loved him
very much. When she saw him at the gate she would neigh with joy,
and trot up to him. He would pat and stroke her and say, "Well, old
Pet, and how is your little Darkie?" I was a dull black, so he
called me Darkie; then he would give me a piece of bread, which was
very good, and sometimes he brought a carrot for my mother. All the
horses would come to him, but I think we were his favorites. My
mother always took him to the town on a market day in a light
gig.

There was a plowboy, Dick, who sometimes came into our field to
pluck blackberries from the hedge. When he had eaten all he wanted
he would have what he called fun with the colts, throwing stones
and sticks at them to make them gallop. We did not much mind him,
for we could gallop off; but sometimes a stone would hit and hurt
us.

One day he was at this game, and did not know that the master
was in the next field; but he was there, watching what was going
on; over the hedge he jumped in a snap, and catching Dick by the
arm, he gave him such a box on the ear as made him roar with the
pain and surprise. As soon as we saw the master we trotted up
nearer to see what went on.

"Bad boy!" he said, "bad boy! to chase the colts. This is not
the first time, nor the second, but it shall be the last.
There—take your money and go home; I shall not want you on my farm
again." So we never saw Dick any more. Old Daniel, the man who
looked after the horses, was just as gentle as our master, so we
were well off.

Before I was two years old a circumstance happened which I have
never forgotten. It was early in the spring; there had been a
little frost in the night, and a light mist still hung over the
woods and meadows. I and the other colts were feeding at the lower
part of the field when we heard, quite in the distance, what
sounded like the cry of dogs. The oldest of the colts raised his
head, pricked his ears, and said, "There are the hounds!" and
immediately cantered off, followed by the rest of us to the upper
part of the field, where we could look over the hedge and see
several fields beyond. My mother and an old riding horse of our
master's were also standing near, and seemed to know all about
it.

"They have found a hare," said my mother, "and if they come this
way we shall see the hunt."

And soon the dogs were all tearing down the field of young wheat
next to ours. I never heard such a noise as they made. They did not
bark, nor howl, nor whine, but kept on a "yo! yo, o, o! yo! yo, o,
o!" at the top of their voices. After them came a number of men on
horseback, some of them in green coats, all galloping as fast as
they could. The old horse snorted and looked eagerly after them,
and we young colts wanted to be galloping with them, but they were
soon away into the fields lower down; here it seemed as if they had
come to a stand; the dogs left off barking, and ran about every way
with their noses to the ground.

"They have lost the scent," said the old horse; "perhaps the
hare will get off."

"What hare?" I said.

"Oh! I don't know what hare; likely enough it may be one of our
own hares out of the woods; any hare they can find will do for the
dogs and men to run after;" and before long the dogs began their
"yo! yo, o, o!" again, and back they came altogether at full speed,
making straight for our meadow at the part where the high bank and
hedge overhang the brook.

"Now we shall see the hare," said my mother; and just then a
hare wild with fright rushed by and made for the woods. On came the
dogs; they burst over the bank, leaped the stream, and came dashing
across the field followed by the huntsmen. Six or eight men leaped
their horses clean over, close upon the dogs. The hare tried to get
through the fence; it was too thick, and she turned sharp round to
make for the road, but it was too late; the dogs were upon her with
their wild cries; we heard one shriek, and that was the end of her.
One of the huntsmen rode up and whipped off the dogs, who would
soon have torn her to pieces. He held her up by the leg torn and
bleeding, and all the gentlemen seemed well pleased.

As for me, I was so astonished that I did not at first see what
was going on by the brook; but when I did look there was a sad
sight; two fine horses were down, one was struggling in the stream,
and the other was groaning on the grass. One of the riders was
getting out of the water covered with mud, the other lay quite
still.

"His neck is broke," said my mother.

"And serve him right, too," said one of the colts.

I thought the same, but my mother did not join with us.

"Well, no," she said, "you must not say that; but though I am an
old horse, and have seen and heard a great deal, I never yet could
make out why men are so fond of this sport; they often hurt
themselves, often spoil good horses, and tear up the fields, and
all for a hare or a fox, or a stag, that they could get more easily
some other way; but we are only horses, and don't know."

While my mother was saying this we stood and looked on. Many of
the riders had gone to the young man; but my master, who had been
watching what was going on, was the first to raise him. His head
fell back and his arms hung down, and every one looked very
serious. There was no noise now; even the dogs were quiet, and
seemed to know that something was wrong. They carried him to our
master's house. I heard afterward that it was young George Gordon,
the squire's only son, a fine, tall young man, and the pride of his
family.

There was now riding off in all directions to the doctor's, to
the farrier's, and no doubt to Squire Gordon's, to let him know
about his son. When Mr. Bond, the farrier, came to look at the
black horse that lay groaning on the grass, he felt him all over,
and shook his head; one of his legs was broken. Then some one ran
to our master's house and came back with a gun; presently there was
a loud bang and a dreadful shriek, and then all was still; the
black horse moved no more.

My mother seemed much troubled; she said she had known that
horse for years, and that his name was "Rob Roy"; he was a good
horse, and there was no vice in him. She never would go to that
part of the field afterward.

Not many days after we heard the church-bell tolling for a long
time, and looking over the gate we saw a long, strange black coach
that was covered with black cloth and was drawn by black horses;
after that came another and another and another, and all were
black, while the bell kept tolling, tolling. They were carrying
young Gordon to the churchyard to bury him. He would never ride
again. What they did with Rob Roy I never knew; but 'twas all for
one little hare.