by Anna Sewell
"After that he often came to see me, and when my mouth was healed theother breaker, Job, they called him, went on training me; he was steadyand thoughtful, and I soon learned what he wanted."
08 Ginger's Story Continued
The next time that Ginger and I were together in the paddock she told meabout her first place.
"After my breaking in," she said, "I was bought by a dealer to matchanother chestnut horse. For some weeks he drove us together, and then wewere sold to a fashionable gentleman, and were sent up to London. I hadbeen driven with a check-rein by the dealer, and I hated it worsethan anything else; but in this place we were reined far tighter, thecoachman and his master thinking we looked more stylish so. We wereoften driven about in the park and other fashionable places. You whonever had a check-rein on don't know what it is, but I can tell you itis dreadful.
"I like to toss my head about and hold it as high as any horse; butfancy now yourself, if you tossed your head up high and were obliged tohold it there, and that for hours together, not able to move it at all,except with a jerk still higher, your neck aching till you did not knowhow to bear it. Besides that, to have two bits instead of one--and minewas a sharp one, it hurt my tongue and my jaw, and the blood from mytongue colored the froth that kept flying from my lips as I chafed andfretted at the bits and rein. It was worst when we had to stand by thehour waiting for our mistress at some grand party or entertainment, andif I fretted or stamped with impatience the whip was laid on. It wasenough to drive one mad."
"Did not your master take any thought for you?" I said.
"No," said she, "he only cared to have a stylish turnout, as theycall it; I think he knew very little about horses; he left that to hiscoachman, who told him I had an irritable temper! that I had not beenwell broken to the check-rein, but I should soon get used to it; but hewas not the man to do it, for when I was in the stable, miserable andangry, instead of being smoothed and quieted by kindness, I got only asurly word or a blow. If he had been civil I would have tried tobear it. I was willing to work, and ready to work hard too; but to betormented for nothing but their fancies angered me. What right had theyto make me suffer like that? Besides the soreness in my mouth, andthe pain in my neck, it always made my windpipe feel bad, and if I hadstopped there long I know it would have spoiled my breathing; but I grewmore and more restless and irritable, I could not help it; and I beganto snap and kick when any one came to harness me; for this the groombeat me, and one day, as they had just buckled us into the carriage,and were straining my head up with that rein, I began to plunge andkick with all my might. I soon broke a lot of harness, and kicked myselfclear; so that was an end of that place.
"After this I was sent to Tattersall's to be sold; of course I could notbe warranted free from vice, so nothing was said about that. My handsomeappearance and good paces soon brought a gentleman to bid for me, and Iwas bought by another dealer; he tried me in all kinds of ways and withdifferent bits, and he soon found out what I could not bear. At lasthe drove me quite without a check-rein, and then sold me as a perfectlyquiet horse to a gentleman in the country; he was a good master, and Iwas getting on very well, but his old groom left him and a new one came.This man was as hard-tempered and hard-handed as Samson; he always spokein a rough, impatient voice, and if I did not move in the stall themoment he wanted me, he would hit me above the hocks with his stablebroom or the fork, whichever he might have in his hand. Everything hedid was rough, and I began to hate him; he wanted to make me afraidof him, but I was too high-mettled for that, and one day when he hadaggravated me more than usual I bit him, which of course put him in agreat rage, and he began to hit me about the head with a riding whip.After that he never dared to come into my stall again; either my heelsor my teeth were ready for him, and he knew it. I was quite quiet withmy master, but of course he listened to what the man said, and so I wassold again.
"The same dealer heard of me, and said he thought he knew one placewhere I should do well. ''Twas a pity,' he said, 'that such a fine horseshould go to the bad, for want of a real good chance,' and the end of itwas that I came here not long before you did; but I had then made up mymind that men were my natural enemies and that I must defend myself. Ofcourse it is very different here, but who knows how long it will last? Iwish I could think about things as you do; but I can't, after all I havegone through."
"Well," I said, "I think it would be a real shame if you were to bite orkick John or James."
"I don't mean to," she said, "while they are good to me. I did biteJames once pretty sharp, but John said, 'Try her with kindness,' andinstead of punishing me as I expected, James came to me with his armbound up, and brought me a bran mash and stroked me; and I have neversnapped at him since, and I won't either."
I was sorry for Ginger, but of course I knew very little then, and Ithought most likely she made the worst of it; however, I found that asthe weeks went on she grew much more gentle and cheerful, and had lostthe watchful, defiant look that she used to turn on any strange personwho came near her; and one day James said, "I do believe that mare isgetting fond of me, she quite whinnied after me this morning when I hadbeen rubbing her forehead."
"Ay, ay, Jim, 'tis 'the Birtwick balls'," said John, "she'll be as goodas Black Beauty by and by; kindness is all the physic she wants, poorthing!" Master noticed the change, too, and one day when he got out ofthe carriage and came to speak to us, as he often did, he stroked herbeautiful neck. "Well, my pretty one, well, how do things go with younow? You are a good bit happier than when you came to us, I think."
She put her nose up to him in a friendly, trustful way, while he rubbedit gently.
"We shall make a cure of her, John," he said.
"Yes, sir, she's wonderfully improved; she's not the same creature thatshe was; it's 'the Birtwick balls', sir," said John, laughing.
This was a little joke of John's; he used to say that a regular courseof "the Birtwick horseballs" would cure almost any vicious horse; theseballs, he said, were made up of patience and gentleness, firmness andpetting, one pound of each to be mixed up with half a pint of commonsense, and given to the horse every day.
09 Merrylegs
Mr. Blomefield, the vicar, had a large family of boys and girls;sometimes they used to come and play with Miss Jessie and Flora. Oneof the girls was as old as Miss Jessie; two of the boys were older, andthere were several little ones. When they came there was plenty of workfor Merrylegs, for nothing pleased them so much as getting on him byturns and riding him all about the orchard and the home paddock, andthis they would do by the hour together.
One afternoon he had been out with them a long time, and when Jamesbrought him in and put on his halter he said:
"There, you rogue, mind how you behave yourself, or we shall get intotrouble."
"What have you been doing, Merrylegs?" I asked.
"Oh!" said he, tossing his little head, "I have only been giving thoseyoung people a lesson; they did not know when they had had enough, norwhen I had had enough, so I just pitched them off backward; that was theonly thing they could understand."
"What!" said I, "you threw the children off? I thought you did knowbetter than that! Did you throw Miss Jessie or Miss Flora?"
He looked very much offended, and said:
"Of course not; I would not do such a thing for the best oats that evercame into the stable; why, I am as careful of our young ladies as themaster could be, and as for the little ones it is I who teach them toride. When they seem frightened or a little unsteady on my back I go assmooth and as quiet as old pussy when she is after a bird; and when theyare all right I go on again faster, you see, just to use them to it; sodon't you trouble yourself preaching to me; I am the best friend and thebest riding-master those children have. It is not them, it is the boys;boys," said he, shaking his mane, "are quite different; they must bebroken in as we were broken in when we were colts, and just be taughtwhat's what. The other children had ridden me about for nearly twohours, and then the boys thought it was their
turn, and so it was, andI was quite agreeable. They rode me by turns, and I galloped them about,up and down the fields and all about the orchard, for a good hour. Theyhad each cut a great hazel stick for a riding-whip, and laid it on alittle too hard; but I took it in good part, till at last I thought wehad had enough, so I stopped two or three times by way of a hint.Boys, you see, think a horse or pony is like a steam-engine or athrashing-machine, and can go on as long and as fast as they please;they never think that a pony can get tired, or have any feelings; so asthe one who was whipping me could not understand I just rose up onmy hind legs and let him slip off behind--that was all. He mounted meagain, and I did the same. Then the other boy got up, and as soon ashe began to use his stick I laid him on the grass, and so on, till theywere able to understand--that was all. They are not bad boys; they don'twish to be cruel. I like them very well; but you see I had to give thema lesson. When they brought me to James and told him I think he was veryangry to see such big sticks. He said they were only fit for drovers orgypsies, and not for young gentlemen."
"If I had been you," said Ginger, "I would have given those boys a goodkick, and that would have given them a lesson."
"No doubt you would," said Merrylegs; "but then I am not quite such afool (begging your pardon) as to anger our master or make James ashamedof me. Besides, those children are under my charge when they are riding;I tell you they are intrusted to me. Why, only the other day I heard ourmaster say to Mrs. Blomefield, 'My dear madam, you need not be anxiousabout the children; my old Merrylegs will take as much care of them asyou or I could; I assure you I would not sell that pony for any money,he is so perfectly good-tempered and trustworthy;' and do you think I amsuch an ungrateful brute as to forget all the kind treatment I havehad here for five years, and all the trust they place in me, and turnvicious because a couple of ignorant boys used me badly? No, no! younever had a good place where they were kind to you, and so you don'tknow, and I'm sorry for you; but I can tell you good places make goodhorses. I wouldn't vex our people for anything; I love them, I do," saidMerrylegs, and he gave a low "ho, ho, ho!" through his nose, as he usedto do in the morning when he heard James' footstep at the door.
"Besides," he went on, "if I took to kicking where should I be? Why,sold off in a jiffy, and no character, and I might find myself slavedabout under a butcher's boy, or worked to death at some seaside placewhere no one cared for me, except to find out how fast I could go, or beflogged along in some cart with three or four great men in it going outfor a Sunday spree, as I have often seen in the place I lived in beforeI came here; no," said he, shaking his head, "I hope I shall never cometo that."
10 A Talk in the Orchard
Ginger and I were not of the regular tall carriage horse breed, we hadmore of the racing blood in us. We stood about fifteen and a half handshigh; we were therefore just as good for riding as we were for driving,and our master used to say that he disliked either horse or man thatcould do but one thing; and as he did not want to show off in Londonparks, he preferred a more active and useful kind of horse. As for us,our greatest pleasure was when we were saddled for a riding party; themaster on Ginger, the mistress on me, and the young ladies on Sir Oliverand Merrylegs. It was so cheerful to be trotting and cantering alltogether that it always put us in high spirits. I had the best of it,for I always carried the mistress; her weight was little, her voice wassweet, and her hand was so light on the rein that I was guided almostwithout feeling it.
Oh! if people knew what a comfort to horses a light hand is, and how itkeeps a good mouth and a good temper, they surely would not chuck, anddrag, and pull at the rein as they often do. Our mouths are so tenderthat where they have not been spoiled or hardened with bad or ignoranttreatment, they feel the slightest movement of the driver's hand, andwe know in an instant what is required of us. My mouth has never beenspoiled, and I believe that was why the mistress preferred me to Ginger,although her paces were certainly quite as good. She used often to envyme, and said it was all the fault of breaking in, and the gag bit inLondon, that her mouth was not so perfect as mine; and then old SirOliver would say, "There, there! don't vex yourself; you have thegreatest honor; a mare that can carry a tall man of our master's weight,with all your spring and sprightly action, does not need to hold herhead down because she does not carry the lady; we horses must takethings as they come, and always be contented and willing so long as weare kindly used."
I had often wondered how it was that Sir Oliver had such a very shorttail; it really was only six or seven inches long, with a tassel of hairhanging from it; and on one of our holidays in the orchard I ventured toask him by what accident it was that he had lost his tail. "Accident!"he snorted with a fierce look, "it was no accident! it was a cruel,shameful, cold-blooded act! When I was young I was taken to a placewhere these cruel things were done; I was tied up, and made fast so thatI could not stir, and then they came and cut off my long and beautifultail, through the flesh and through the bone, and took it away.
"How dreadful!" I exclaimed.
"Dreadful, ah! it was dreadful; but it was not only the pain, thoughthat was terrible and lasted a long time; it was not only the indignityof having my best ornament taken from me, though that was bad; but itwas this, how could I ever brush the flies off my sides and my hind legsany more? You who have tails just whisk the flies off without thinkingabout it, and you can't tell what a torment it is to have them settleupon you and sting and sting, and have nothing in the world to lash themoff with. I tell you it is a lifelong wrong, and a lifelong loss; butthank heaven, they don't do it now."
"What did they do it for then?" said Ginger.
"For fashion!" said the old horse with a stamp of his foot; "forfashion! if you know what that means; there was not a well-bred younghorse in my time that had not his tail docked in that shameful way, justas if the good God that made us did not know what we wanted and whatlooked best."
"I suppose it is fashion that makes them strap our heads up with thosehorrid bits that I was tortured with in London," said Ginger.
"Of course it is," said he; "to my mind, fashion is one of the wickedestthings in the world. Now look, for instance, at the way they serve dogs,cutting off their tails to make them look plucky, and shearing up theirpretty little ears to a point to make them both look sharp, forsooth. Ihad a dear friend once, a brown terrier; 'Skye' they called her. She wasso fond of me that she never would sleep out of my stall; she madeher bed under the manger, and there she had a litter of five as prettylittle puppies as need be; none were drowned, for they were a valuablekind, and how pleased she was with them! and when they got their eyesopen and crawled about, it was a real pretty sight; but one day the mancame and took them all away; I thought he might be afraid I should treadupon them. But it was not so; in the evening poor Skye brought them backagain, one by one in her mouth; not the happy little things that theywere, but bleeding and crying pitifully; they had all had a piece oftheir tails cut off, and the soft flap of their pretty little ears wascut quite off. How their mother licked them, and how troubled she was,poor thing! I never forgot it. They healed in time, and they forgot thepain, but the nice soft flap, that of course was intended to protect thedelicate part of their ears from dust and injury, was gone forever. Whydon't they cut their own children's ears into points to make them looksharp? Why don't they cut the end off their noses to make them lookplucky? One would be just as sensible as the other. What right have theyto torment and disfigure God's creatures?"
Sir Oliver, though he was so gentle, was a fiery old fellow, and whathe said was all so new to me, and so dreadful, that I found a bitterfeeling toward men rise up in my mind that I never had before. Of courseGinger was very much excited; she flung up her head with flashingeyes and distended nostrils, declaring that men were both brutes andblockheads.
"Who talks about blockheads?" said Merrylegs, who just came up fromthe old apple-tree, where he had been rubbing himself against the lowbranch. "Who talks about blockheads? I believe that is a bad word."
"Bad words were made for bad things," said Ginger, and she told him whatSir Oliver had said.
"It is all true," said Merrylegs sadly, "and I've seen that about thedogs over and over again where I lived first; but we won't talk aboutit here. You know that master, and John and James are always good tous, and talking against men in such a place as this doesn't seem fairor grateful, and you know there are good masters and good grooms besideours, though of course ours are the best."