BLACK BEAUTY - online book

The Autobiography Of A Horse, With Fifty Illustrations.

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THE BUTCHER.
165
pleased to see me, for she said, "You are the only friend I ever had."
Just then her driver came up, and with a tug at her mouth backed her out of the line and drove off, leaving me very sad indeed.
A short time after this, a cart with a dead horse in it passed our cab-stand. The head hung out of the cart tail, the lifeless tongue was slowly dropping with blood, and the sunken eyes! but I can't speak of them; the sight was too dreadful. It was a chestnut horse with a long, thin neck. I saw a white streak down the forehead. I believe it was Ginger; I hoped it was, for then her troubles would be over. Oh! if men were more merciful, they ivould shoot us before we came to such miseiy.
CHAPTER XLI.
THE BUTCHER.
I SAW a great deal of trouble amongst the horses in Lon­don, and much of it that might have been prevented by a little common sense. We horses do not mind hard work if we are treated reasonably, and I am sure there are many driven by quite poor men who have a happier life than I had when I used to go in the Countess of W--------'s car­riage, with my silver-mounted harness and high feeding.
It often went to my heart to see how the little ponies were used, straining along with heavy loads, or staggering under heavy blows from some low, cruel boy. Once I saw a little gray pony with a thick mane and a pretty head, and so much like Merrylegs that if I had not been in har­ness I should have neighed to him. He was doing his best to pull a heavy cart, while a strong, rough boy was
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