BLACK BEAUTY - online book

The Autobiography Of A Horse, With Fifty Illustrations.

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A TALK IN THE ORCHARD.
43
boy, or worked to death at some seaside place where no one cared for me, except to find out how fast I could go, or be flogged along in some cart with three or four great men in it going out for a Sunday spree, as I have often seen in the place I lived in before I came here. No," said he, shaking his head, " I hope I shall never come to that."
CHAPTER X.
A TALK IN THE ORCHARD.
Ginger and I were not of the regular tall carriage-horse breed, we had more of racing blood in us. We stood about fifteen and a half hands high; 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 that could do but one thing; and, as he did not want to show off in London parks, 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; the master on Ginger, the mistress on me, and the young ladies on Sir Oliver and Merrylegs. It was so cheerful to be trotting and cantering all together, that it always put us in high spirits. I had the best of it, for I always carrid the mis­tress; her weight was little, her voice was sweet, and her hand was so light on the rein that I was guided almost without feeling it.
Oh I if people knew what a comfort to horses a light hand is, and how it keeps a good mouth and a good temper, they surely would not chuck and drag and pull at the rein as they often do. Our mouths are so tender, that where they have not been spoiled or hardened with bad or ignorant
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