Black Beauty by Anna Sewell Read Free Book Online

when
we saw a powerful man driving toward us in a light pony chaise,
with a beautiful little bay pony, with slender legs and a high-bred
sensitive head and face. Just as he came to the park gates the
little thing turned toward them; the man, without word or warning,
wrenched the creature's head round with such a force and suddenness
that he nearly threw it on its haunches. Recovering itself it was
going on, when he began to lash it furiously. The pony plunged
forward, but the strong, heavy hand held the pretty creature back
with force almost enough to break its jaw, while the whip still cut
into him. It was a dreadful sight to me, for I knew what fearful
pain it gave that delicate little mouth; but master gave me the
word, and we were up with him in a second.
    "Sawyer," he cried in a stern voice, "is that pony made of flesh
and blood?"
    "Flesh and blood and temper," he said; "he's too fond of his own
will, and that won't suit me." He spoke as if he was in a strong
passion. He was a builder who had often been to the park on
business.
    "And do you think," said master sternly, "that treatment like
this will make him fond of your will?"
    "He had no business to make that turn; his road was straight
on!" said the man roughly.
    "You have often driven that pony up to my place," said master;
"it only shows the creature's memory and intelligence; how did he
know that you were not going there again? But that has little to do
with it. I must say, Mr. Sawyer, that a more unmanly, brutal
treatment of a little pony it was never my painful lot to witness,
and by giving way to such passion you injure your own character as
much, nay more, than you injure your horse; and remember, we shall
all have to be judged according to our works, whether they be
toward man or toward beast."
    Master rode me home slowly, and I could tell by his voice how
the thing had grieved him. He was just as free to speak to
gentlemen of his own rank as to those below him; for another day,
when we were out, we met a Captain Langley, a friend of our
master's; he was driving a splendid pair of grays in a kind of
break. After a little conversation the captain said:
    "What do you think of my new team, Mr. Douglas? You know, you
are the judge of horses in these parts, and I should like your
opinion."
    The master backed me a little, so as to get a good view of them.
"They are an uncommonly handsome pair," he said, "and if they are
as good as they look I am sure you need not wish for anything
better; but I see you still hold that pet scheme of yours for
worrying your horses and lessening their power."
    "What do you mean," said the other, "the check-reins? Oh, ah! I
know that's a hobby of yours; well, the fact is, I like to see my
horses hold their heads up."
    "So do I," said master, "as well as any man, but I don't like to
see them held up; that takes all the shine out of it. Now, you are
a military man, Langley, and no doubt like to see your regiment
look well on parade, 'heads up', and all that; but you would not
take much credit for your drill if all your men had their heads
tied to a backboard! It might not be much harm on parade, except to
worry and fatigue them; but how would it be in a bayonet charge
against the enemy, when they want the free use of every muscle, and
all their strength thrown forward? I would not give much for their
chance of victory. And it is just the same with horses: you fret
and worry their tempers, and decrease their power; you will not let
them throw their weight against their work, and so they have to do
too much with their joints and muscles, and of course it wears them
up faster. You may depend upon it, horses were intended to have
their heads free, as free as men's are; and if we could act a
little more according to common sense, and a good deal less
according to fashion, we should find many things work easier;
besides, you know as well as I that if a horse makes a false step,
he has much less chance of recovering himself if his head and