Black Beauty
Adapted by H. Q. Mitchell - Marileni Malkogianni
Black Beauty
Adapted by H. Q. Mitchell - Marileni Malkogianni
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Produced in the EU
| ISBN: 978-618-05-0892-5 | C1806007032-14804 |
Anna Sewell’s classic story of a kind and well-born horse was
the only book she ever wrote, but it became a best-seller and it
continues to be a favourite with readers. It has sold more than 50
million copies and has been translated into many languages making
it one of the most popular books ever written.
The story of Black Beauty, a beautiful horse who suffered
through hard times, was inspired by a horse called Bess that
was owned by the author’s brother. Another horse in the book,
Merrylegs, was probably based on the character of the pony that
pulled the author’s carriage when she was young; Anna had to
depend on horses and carriages to move from place to place, as, at
the age of 14, she had an accident that destroyed her ankles and left
her disabled for life.
Sewell started writing Black Beauty in 1871 at the age of 50,
when she was no longer able to leave the house. The book took
her almost seven years to write; it was sold for only 20 pounds and
published in 1877, just in time for Anna to enjoy before she died
five months later.
My first home was a large farm with a pond in the middle of it. There were tall trees for shade and enough space for me to run around in. I played in a green field with lots of grass. At first, I was too little to eat grass so I drank my mother's milk. Later when I started to eat grass, my mother was able to go to work every day. She pulled a carriage for my master and I played in the field with the other young colts while she was away with him. I had fun as I galloped with the other young horses. We used to run round and round as fast as we could go. Some of the colts liked to kick and bite as they played. One day, my mother saw us and called me to go to her. ‘The young colts that kick and bite are going to be carthorses when they grow up,’ she said. ‘I hope you will be a good horse that has manners like the other horses in our family. You have never seen me kick or bite and I want you to do the same.’ I have never forgotten my mother’s advice. My mother's name was Duchess and she was good and gentle. She loved our master and ran to him whenever she saw him. ‘Hello, Duchess. How is your little Darkie?’ he asked my mother with a smile every time he saw us together. He called me Darkie because I was a dull black colour. As I grew older, my fluffy hair became a shiny coat and, with the white star on my forehead and my one white foot, it made me look very handsome. When I was four years old, Squire Gordon came to the field to look at me. He looked at my mouth and eyes. He felt my legs and then I had to walk, trot and gallop for him. Then Squire Gordon turned to my master and said, ‘I want to buy him!’ ‘I will break him in for you first,’ said my master. I knew what that meant! It isn't easy for a horse to be broken in. A young horse needs to learn how to wear a saddle, how to carry a rider and how to pull a carriage in the way his master wants. I had never carried a rider on my back before so I had a lot to get used to. My master gently put a bridle round my neck and a metal bar that is called a ‘bit’ into my mouth. The bit felt uncomfortable
between my teeth as it pushed my tongue to the back of my mouth, but my master's kind words and nice oats helped me get used to it. Next, my master put a saddle on my back. He gave me more oats and spoke softly to me while he put the saddle on. It didn't feel so bad, and I soon got used to that, too. In the following days, I would look for the oats as my master came with the saddle. One morning, my master got on my back and rode me around the field. I didn't mind at all because it made me feel proud to carry my master on my back. Every day, he would come and ride me a little and I soon got so used to it that I even liked it. Next, I had to get iron shoes from the blacksmith in the village. He cut out some of my hoof and nailed a metal shoe onto each of my hooves. It didn't hurt, but the iron shoes were heavy at first. However, I knew that they were necessary to protect my hooves. After learning so many new things, my master brought me a harness. It was a leather strap with pieces for the side of my eyes called ‘blinkers’. When I wore the harness with the blinkers I was only able to look straight ahead. The harness was heavy and had a strap under my tail that I hated. It made me want to kick but, of course, I could not kick such a good master so I slowly got used to the harness as well. My master sometimes took me for a walk beside my mother because she was a good horse and she could teach me how to walk properly; I soon got used to pulling a carriage with another horse next to me. ‘Work hard so you can be treated well,’ she said to me. ‘Some men are kind and know how to treat a horse, like our master; but other men are bad and cruel, and they are difficult to work for. And there are also foolish men; they don't know how to take care of a horse and they can be very dangerous… they can destroy a horse without knowing it! You never know who might buy you, but you must always try your best and keep your good name!’
Squire Gordon and his family lived at Birtwick Park. His groom led me past a large iron gate and we went down a long road with tall trees on both sides. The house was surrounded by lovely gardens filled with pretty flowers. We went past the apple trees and the pens until we arrived at the stables. Once we were there, the groom jumped off my back, took off my saddle and bridle and led me inside the stables. Squire Gordon kept many horses and carriages in beautiful stalls that were large and clean. The groom led me to the first stall; it was very large and there was lots of room for me to move around freely. He did not tie me up and I liked it very much. He brushed my coat and then gave me some fresh water to drink and nice oats. He patted me and said kind words before he went away to continue his work. I ate my nice oats and then I looked around. In the stall next to mine there was a fat, grey pony with a thick mane and tail and a pretty head. ‘How do you do?’ I said. ‘What's your name?’ ‘My name is Merrylegs,’ he said. ‘I am very handsome as you can see! The children ride me, and Miss Jessie and Miss Flora love me very much. I'm their favourite! Are you going to live next door to me?’ ‘Yes; I think so,’ I said. ‘I hope you have good manners,’ he said. ‘I don't like horses that bite!’ Just then, I heard a neigh. It came from a tall reddish-brown mare near Merrylegs. She was very pretty but seemed angry. ‘It isn't good manners to take the stall of another horse,’ she said as she looked at me over the stall. ‘I'm sorry,’ I said. ‘Is this your stall?’ ‘Yes, it is,’ she said. ‘They moved me so that you could take it!’ ‘I'm sorry, but I didn't ask anyone to do that; the groom put me here,’ I said. In the afternoon, when she went out, Merrylegs told me about
her. ‘The thing is that Ginger has a bad habit. She bites people,’ he said. ‘She bit James, the stable boy, on the arm and now the children are afraid to come to the stables. They used to bring me nice apples and carrots to eat. I miss them!’ ‘Why does she bite people?’ I asked. ‘Ginger's old master was unkind to her, and that's why she bites,’ said Merrylegs. ‘But everyone here is very kind. There is no reason to bite! Squire Gordon doesn't use whips; John Manly is an excellent groom and James the stable boy is very kind too! Ginger has no reason to bite.’ The next day I met the groom, John Manly, again. He brushed my coat and made me look very handsome. He put a saddle and bridle on my back and took me for a ride. He was a very good and careful rider, and I enjoyed galloping with him. As we were returning to the stables, we met the Squire and Mrs Gordon, who were walking together. John pulled the reins and we stopped. ‘Well, John, how is he?’ asked the squire. ‘He is a good horse, Squire! He is fast, obedient and gentle, too,’ said John. ‘He isn't scared of sudden noises and he is careful and quiet. From what it seems, they taught him well and treated him with kindness.’ ‘Very well,’ said Squire Gordon. ‘I'll ride him tomorrow.’ The next day Squire Gordon rode me just as he promised. I remembered my mother's important advice and tried hard to please my new master. He was a good rider and thoughtful about me, too. When we got home, Mrs Gordon was waiting for us. ‘What is he like, dear? Did you enjoy your ride?’ she asked. ‘He’s exactly as John says,’ said Squire Gordon. ‘I couldn't hope for a better horse.’ ‘What shall we call him?’ he asked. Mrs Gordon looked at me. ‘Well, he is really very handsome,’ she said. ‘Let's call him Beauty. And look at his shiny black colour. Why don't we call him Black Beauty?’ ‘Yes, that's a very good name,’ he said. A few days later, I had to pull the large carriage with Ginger. I was worried about how we would work together, but I was surprised to
find that she was a hard worker. We both trotted well and it was easy for us to pull the carriage together. We soon became great friends. She told me all about her difficult past and the years she spent at the hands of cruel people. It was no wonder that she was angry all the time. But with the passing of time Ginger stopped biting. She was becoming kinder. The master said that it was ‘Birtwick kindness’. There was no reason for her to bite or show bad manners because she was treated with kindness. I guess old Merrylegs is right when he says, ‘Good places make good horses’.
One Autumn Day, John Manly tied me to the small carriage. Squire Gordon came out of the house and John helped him to his seat so that we could take him into town for business. I usually enjoyed pulling the small carriage but on that day it wasn't much fun; the ground was muddy and the wind had blown leaves in front of us, making it even more difficult to walk. It began to rain again as we came to a little wooden bridge. The river was almost at the height of the bridge. ‘Be careful,’ said a man at the bridge. ‘The weather is getting worse and the water in the river is rising very quickly.’ ‘I'll try and finish my business quickly,’ said Squire Gordon as we arrived in the town. He left us outside an office as he went inside to do his business. We waited in the rain and cold wind. ‘I'm sorry my business took me so long, John,’ he said when he finally came outside. ‘Come on, Beauty; let's go home as fast as we can.’ The weather was worse now. In the woods it was scary because the wind blew around big tree branches. The sound was terrifying. ‘We must get out of these woods fast,’ said Squire Gordon. ‘Yes, sir,’ said John. ‘These branches seem very dangerous!’ Just then, we heard a crack and a crashing sound as one of the trees fell right in front of us. I stood still, even though I was frightened because I knew that I should not run away. ‘That was close!’ said Squire Gordon. ‘What should we do now?’ ‘Well, sir, we can’t go over the tree and we can’t go round it; we must go back and try crossing the bridge again,’ said John. ‘We will be late, but it is the only thing we can do.’ Once we got to the bridge we saw that the water had reached the height of the bridge. ‘Come on Beauty,’ said John. ‘Let's cross over fast!’ As soon as my hoof touched the first part of the bridge, I knew that something was wrong. I stood still. John touched me with the whip but I still refused to move.
‘Go on, Beauty,’ said Squire Gordon. John got off the cart and tried to pull me, but again I did not move. ‘Come on, Beauty. What’s the matter?’ he asked. Just then, a man ran to us. ‘Stop! Stop!’ he called, jumping up and down. ‘That bridge is broken in the middle. If you cross it, you'll fall in the river!’ Both Squire Gordon and John turned the cart around and we continued on our way back home along another road which meant the journey was much longer, but safer. For a while, nobody spoke as I trotted quietly in the dark. All we could hear were the wheels of the cart sliding on the soft road. After a while, Squire Gordon spoke. ‘People are smart, John. They can learn how things work, and make things,’ he said. ‘But animals are more clever! They can feel things and understand them in ways that can save people's lives.’ When we got home, Mrs Gordon ran to the gates of Birtwick Park immediately. ‘My dear, I was so worried,’ she said. ‘Why are you late? Did you have an accident?’
‘No, my dear,’ said Mr Gordon. ‘We are safe. Black Beauty saved our lives.’ John led me to the stables; he dried me, gave me a wonderful dinner and made my bed of straw thick and comfortable. I was so tired that I fell asleep instantly. Another time, James Howard, Ginger and I took Squire Gordon and Mrs Gordon on a long journey to visit some friends. Squire Gordon wanted to test James so that he could become the new groom at Clifford Hall, so he didn’t ask John to drive him that day. ‘Sir Clifford is a good master, and it is a great opportunity for James to work as a groom,’ said Squire Gordon to John before we left. ‘I'm sure he can do the job,’ said John. ‘He is the best stable boy I know.’ Ginger and I found that James was a great carriage driver. He made sure that we kept our hooves on the smooth part of the road so that we would be comfortable. When we went uphill, he moved the carriage to the side so it was easier for us, and when we went
downhill, he never forgot to put on the brake. James knew that these little things helped us save our energy and we were very thankful to him. On the first day of the journey we travelled a great distance but it was getting dark so we had to stay at a hotel. James took us to the stables and made sure we were comfortable for the night. Later, another young stable boy brought in a horse. He had a pipe in his mouth and talked to the other stable boys for a while. The next thing I can remember was a burning smell that woke me up. It was dark and the stable was full of thick smoke. I could hardly breathe. I heard Ginger coughing and the other horses stamping their hooves uneasily. As I looked up, I saw flames. ‘Fire!’ I heard a man shouting as he came into the stables. He ran around untying the horses and then he pulled one horse with a rope. The horse did not move. He tried to pull out another horse but it didn’t move either. He came to me, but I was so frightened that I could not follow him. An older man came in. He was calm and this made us feel more relaxed so he was able to pull three horses out of the stables. Then I heard a voice I knew. ‘Come on, Beauty,’ said James and covered my eyes with a scarf. This made me feel more comfortable because I couldn't see the flames. He patted me and talked quietly to me as we walked out of the burning stables. James gave the rope to a man outside and ran back in to get Ginger. Suddenly I heard Squire Gordon's voice. ‘James Howard! James Howard! Are you there?’ he called. A long time passed before James came out of the burning stables with Ginger. ‘You brave boy! James, you saved my best horses! Are you OK?’ said Squire Gordon. James couldn't talk and he just nodded his head. The next day everybody was talking about the fire. ‘How did the fire start?’ asked a man, and another answered. ‘One of the stable boys went into the stables with a pipe in his mouth.’ ‘John Manly always says that pipes are not allowed in the stables,’ said James. Everyone agreed that this was a wise rule.
Chapter 4
Little Joe Green took James' place as the new stable boy at Birtwick Park. He was only fourteen years old but was a very quick learner. He loved horses and tried hard to learn about us. Even so, he nearly killed me one night. It was dark outside when John rode me as fast as he could to Doctor White's house because our mistress was very sick. ‘Can I ride your horse?’ asked Doctor White. ‘Mine is tired and slow.’ ‘Black Beauty is tired too,’ said John. ‘But you won't find a faster and more willing horse.’ Doctor White was a heavy man and not a good rider. Still, I ran as fast as I could because I knew that Mrs Gordon needed the doctor as quickly as possible. When we came to Birtwick Park, Joe was waiting at the gate. The doctor jumped off and rushed to my mistress. My legs were shaking and I was sweating. Joe took me to the stables. ‘Let me give you a rub,’ he said and rubbed my legs and chest. Then he gave me some fresh hay and cold water. ‘You're so hot. I won't put a rug on you tonight,’ he said and left.
A little while later, I felt very cold without a rug on my back so I lay down and tried to sleep on the hay. In the morning I was very ill and couldn't stand up. ‘You silly boy!’ said John. You gave Beauty cold water and didn't put a rug on his back, even though he was sweating.’ Joe felt very bad and he tried hard to make me well again. With warm food, medicine and lots of love I soon got better. Unfortunately, Mrs Gordon's health was getting worse. One morning, Merrylegs came to the stables with some sad news after a ride with the children. ‘Mrs Gordon is very ill again,’ he said. ‘The doctor says she should move to a warmer country. Squire Gordon is going to sell all the horses and they are going to leave.’ Not long after that, Merrylegs went to live with a friend of Squire Gordon, and Ginger and I were sold to Lord Westerly of Earlshall Park. John took us to our new home. It was larger than Birtwick but not as pleasant as our old home. Mr York, the coachman, led us to the stables and put us together with the other horses. We each had a stall and the stables were nice and clean. Mr York rubbed us down and fed us. ‘Tell me about these horses, John,’ said Mr York. ‘Well, they are the best horses in the land, but they are different in character,’ said John. ‘The black one is calm, gentle and will do anything you ask. The brown one is quite stubborn. I think she was treated badly when she was younger. She was happy at Birtwick Park and learnt to work well with us. We treat our horses with kindness, you see, and we never use bearing reins.’ ‘Well, they must both wear a bearing rein now,’ said Mr York. ‘Fashion is very important to Lady Westerly. She wants the horses to look good and hold their heads up high with a bearing rein.’ John shook his head and said nothing, but I could see that he wasn’t happy. The next morning, we were tied to Lady Westerly's carriage. Mr York used a bearing rein but he did not put it on too tight. When Lady Westerly came to the carriage she did not look very happy. ‘Those horses!’ she said. ‘They are different colours! And why is the bearing rein not tight?’ ‘This is the first time with a bearing rein for them,’ said Mr York.
‘They must get used to it.’ Lady Westerly said nothing but she looked angry. The bearing rein hurt my neck as it kept my head held up high and didn't let me stretch. When we went uphill, we couldn’t put our head down and the strain on our neck and legs was awful. It was difficult for both Ginger and I but we tried to do a good job. The next day, Mr York pulled the bearing rein even tighter. ‘They are cruel!’ said Ginger. ‘They will be sorry if they make the bearing rein any tighter!’ Lady Westerly came to see us the next day. ‘Their heads must be higher. I want you to make the bearing reign tighter! Do it at once!’ she said. Mr York pulled my bearing rein so much that it hurt me. It was very painful but I stood still. When they tried to do the same to Ginger she jumped up, kicked her legs and then she kicked over the carriage and fell down. York and two grooms jumped on her to hold her still. They untied us from the carriage, and took us back to the stables. ‘Why do some people insist on using bearing reins when they do more harm than good?’ whispered Mr York under his breath as he walked us to the stables. Ginger never pulled Lady Westerly's carriage again. Instead, they brought a new horse to work with me. Together, Max and I pulled Lady Westerly's carriage with the bearing reins. It was very difficult and painful, but Max and I accepted it quietly. Ginger became Lord George's horse. He was a bad rider and careless with his horse. ‘It's better than wearing a bearing rein,’ said Ginger. At some point, Mr York went to London for some work. While he was away, Reuben Smith looked after the stables. Reuben was a good man and careful with the horses, but every now and then he would spend time with some friends at the inn and change his behaviour. One day Lord Westerly asked Reuben to take the carriage to town to be painted. I had a loose shoe and the carriage maker noticed it too. ‘I'll take Beauty to the blacksmith later,’ said Reuben. ‘Just take care of him for me while I go to see some friends. I won’t be long.’ He came back to pick me up very late at night. He jumped on my
back and began to ride me as fast as he could. My shoe was so loose, but I ran even though it hurt. Reuben whipped me to go faster. We rode on rough ground covered in stones and my shoe came off. My hoof was cut and I was in pain, but Reuben kept whipping me to go faster. I tripped and we both fell to the ground. For a while I could heard Reuben breathing, then there was silence. In the morning, some people found us. ‘It’s Reuben,’ said one of them. ‘He isn't moving!’ ‘He is dead,’ said someone else. I was shocked to hear that, but the pain made me think of myself more. The men carried Reuben’s body away and took me home. ‘Poor horse,’ they said. ‘His knees are ruined.’ It took a long time for my hoof and legs to get better. My owner decided that I should get some rest in the fields. There, I saw Ginger. ‘What are you doing here?’ I asked. ‘Lord George is a very bad rider,’ she said. ‘He rode so hard that he ruined my back and they brought me to the field for some rest!’ Ginger and I enjoyed lying in the fields and eating sweet grass all day. ‘Look at us!’ she said one day. ‘We are both ruined! You have been destroyed by a careless man and I by a fool.’ She was right. It was very hard, but there was nothing we could do. One day, Lord Westerly came to see us. ‘My friend Squire Gordon thought these two healthy horses would find a good home here, but instead they are ruined,’ he said to Mr York. ‘The brown one may be healthy again after a year, but the black one will be sold. I can't have knees like that in my stables.’
Mr York found me a new home far away. ‘Goodbye,’ said Ginger as Mr York led me away to my new life as a job horse at a livery stable. My new stall was comfortable and clean, and I was happy because I had all I needed. The food was good and the people of the livery stables took good care of me. A job horse is a horse that people can rent. Each rider treated me in a different way; some of them liked to hold my reins tight and pulled so hard at my mouth that it hurt. Other riders did the opposite and left the reins too loose. Other riders had never owned an animal of their own and treated the horse they rented like machines. They would whip me because they thought that I could go as fast as a train, even if the roads were muddy or we were going uphill. My favourite riders were the experienced ones because they made sure that I was on the smooth parts of the road. They were careful and encouraged me to do my best. At the livery stables there were many different horses and each had a story to tell. I was often put to work with a mare named Peggy. She wasn't from a good family as I was, but she was sweet and tried very hard to keep up with me when we pulled the carriage. ‘I notice that you trot and then jump. Why do you do that?’ I asked her one day. ‘Well, you see, my legs are short; not long like yours,’ she said. ‘Men want to go fast and when one horse can't keep up with the others the riders whip, whip, whip all the time… but I can't stand the whip so I try to do my best to keep up with you, even if it's difficult.’ The ladies liked Peggy because she was so gentle and kind. One day, two ladies bought her because they wanted a good, safe horse and I was very happy for her. Not long after Peggy left, two gentlemen came to the stables. The taller of the two looked at me carefully. ‘Why is he wearing a bearing rein?’ he asked. ‘We find that people like it,’ said the stable boy. ‘I don't like it,’ said the gentleman. ‘Please take it off; a horse
that feels comfortable is easier to ride on a long journey, isn't it, my friend?’ he said and patted my back. He was a careful rider and reminded me of John Manly and this made me happy. The gentleman came back to the stables several times and always asked for me to be his horse. At the end of summer, the gentleman convinced the master of the livery stables to sell me to a friend of his. And so I was sold to Mr Barry. Mr Barry didn't know much about horses but he was a kind man and gave me a good place to live. His groom, Filcher, looked after me well and at first I was comfortable. But one day, Filcher stopped giving me the good oats that Mr Barry was paying for and instead, he put bran in my food. He did the same thing the next day and the next. This went on for about two months during which time I began to feel weaker and weaker. One day, Mr Barry visited an old farmer friend of his. ‘What's wrong with your horse?’ asked the man when he saw me. ‘His skin isn't as shiny as it was, and he looks skinny.’ ‘I don't know,’ said Mr Barry. ‘I give him the best oats!’ ‘Are you sure?’ asked the farmer, and that made Mr Barry very suspicious. He decided to hide and see what Mr Filcher was feeding me. When he realised that he had been tricked, he was very angry. A few days later, a new groom came, Alfred Smirk. But he was not much better. Smirk was lazy and didn't do much work; he preferred to look in the mirror all day and comb his hair instead of cleaning the stables. My hooves began to hurt from all the dirt and I stumbled all the time. ‘Alfred, these stables are smelly,’ said Mr Barry one day. ‘Do something about it, please.’ ‘Well, sir, I clean them all the time, but there may be something wrong with the drains,’ said Mr Smirk. Workers came to fix the drains, but of course they found nothing wrong. Then one morning as we were going to the city, I almost fell twice. My master took me to the vet to have a look at me. When he
examined my legs and hooves, he found them in bad shape. He gave orders to keep the floor of the stables very clean, to give me special food and take me out for exercise every day. He also told Mr Barry that his groom was not doing a good job. My hooves were soon well again and I felt strong, but my life was about to change once more; Mr Barry decided to sell me because he didn't want to be tricked by others anymore.
Chapter 6
My new owner, Jerry Barker, a cab driver, bought me at a horse fair. Many buyers came to look at me but most of them turned away as soon as they saw my knees. Jerry was different. ‘You're a gentle horse, aren't you?’ he whispered to me. ‘Well, I don't think that your injured knees were really your fault.’ He did not look like a rich man but I could tell that he knew about horses. I, in turn, especially liked him because he looked cheerful and kind, and he smelt nice and clean. However, when the salesman asked him for twenty-three pounds, Jerry said that it was very expensive. A while later, another man came and examined me. He looked hard and strict and I did not like him at all. He told the salesman that he would pay twenty-three pounds. Jerry was passing by at that very moment. I turned my head to him, and he looked at me and smiled. ‘OK, you,’ he said. ‘I'll give you twenty-four. Not a pound more.’ And that's how I became his horse. He took me home to meet his lovely wife, Polly. She was a very
nice woman with dark hair, dark eyes and a big smile on her face. He had a son called Harry who was twelve years old, and he also had a daughter. Dolly was eight and looked just like her mother. Dolly gave me an apple and we became friends. ‘What shall we call the new horse?’ she asked. ‘Let's call him Jack, like our old horse,’ said Jerry. ‘Yes, it's good to keep a good name,’ said Polly. At the stables there was another horse called Captain. He pulled Jerry's cab in the morning and I pulled it in the afternoon. And we were very lucky because we did not have to wear a bearing rein! On my first afternoon, Jerry tied me to the front of the carriage and took me to the cab stand. We stood at the end of the line and waited for customers. In front of us were the other drivers; some of them laughed at me because they thought I looked too good for a cab horse. Others said that Jerry was silly to buy a horse with knees like mine. ‘He's very black,’ said another man. ‘That's not very cheerful!’ The oldest driver was Grant, but the other drivers called him Governor. They all respected him very much. He looked at me very carefully. ‘He's a fine horse, Jerry!’ he said. ‘I don't care what you paid for him. I can tell he'll be worth it!’ ‘I think so too!’ said Jerry. He was very proud of me and took great care of both me and Captain. Jerry and Harry brushed us every day, gave us good food and made sure we were comfortable in the stables. Jerry was as good a driver as John Manly. He never used his whip on me and never made me work too much. He made sure that I went at just the right pace and never made me rush for extra money. One day, two young men ran to Jerry. ‘Cabbie! Cabbie! We're late!’ one of them said. ‘We must be at the station before five. Whip your horse to make him go faster and we'll give you an extra shilling.’ ‘I will gladly take you to the station,’ said Jerry. ‘But I will not whip my horse. It is cruel!’ Another cab driver, Larry, heard the young men. ‘I will take you to the station quickly for an extra shilling,’ he said. The men hopped into his cab and Larry sped off, whipping his horse. ‘You'll never be a rich man, Jerry,’ called out Larry as he drove off. ‘Probably not,’ said Jerry, but Larry had already disappeared. Another day we were waiting at the cab stand when a man with
a large suitcase slipped on the road. Jerry helped the man and took him into a shop so some people could look after him. Ten minutes later, the man came to Jerry. ‘Can you help me? I am in a hurry to get to the South-Eastern Railway station,’ he said. ‘My accident has made me late and I really need to get to the station in ten minutes; it is very important. I'll pay you twice as much!’ Jerry felt sorry for the man and really wanted to help him. I ran as fast as I could and the man didn't miss his train, but Jerry didn't want the extra money. ‘Jack looked like a race horse,’ said the other cab drivers when we went back to the cab stand. ‘We thought you didn't like speeding for extra money.’ ‘I didn't get any extra money,’ said Jerry. ‘You'll never be a rich man,’ said Larry again. ‘I don't know if he'll ever be rich,’ said Governor Grant. ‘He deserves to be rich, though!’ Jerry didn't rush, but most customers preferred to use his cab because he was gentle and responsible. One day a gentleman knocked on our door. ‘Mrs Briggs would like you to drive her to her daughter's house every Sunday,’ said the gentleman. ‘I'm sorry,’ said Jerry. ‘I only work six days a week; I want to spend some time with my family.’ The customer left shaking his head. The next Sunday, Polly walked into the stables. ‘Poor Dinah Brown's mother is very sick. She must go to her quickly!’ she said. ‘Will you be able to take her?’ ‘Of course I will,’ said Jerry. ‘It is Sunday today, but this is a different thing!’ We rode all day but it was a lovely ride in the country and Jerry stopped on the way back to pick some flowers for Polly. When we came home at night, Polly was waiting at the door. ‘Oh Jerry, you must be so tired!’ she said. Jerry smiled and gave her the flowers. ‘Well, Polly, I didn't lose my Sunday, you know; the birds were singing and Jack enjoyed his day,’ he said. ‘We had a lovely time.’
Jerry knew that the more he took care of me, the better I would work. So, he covered me with rugs while we waited for customers in the cold, and always made sure that Captain and I had good food and plenty of rest. Other drivers whipped the poor animals so that they could go faster in order to get more money out of them. One day, a cab driver called Seedy Sam came to the cab stand. Both he and his horse looked very cold and tired. ‘Look at your poor horse. He looks so tired!’ shouted Governor Grant. ‘Don't you care about him at all?’ ‘I pay eighteen shillings a day to rent the cab and the horse,’ said Seedy Sam. ‘I have to earn that money and try to make some money for myself. I need to work very hard to pay Skinner, the owner of the horse, before I can make any money to feed my children. I have to work fourteen hours a day. You have your own horse, Grant, so it is easier for you than it is for me.’ I couldn't hear the rest of the conversation because a customer wanted us to drive him home. But the man was right. A cab driver's job wasn't easy and it was even more difficult if he didn't have his own horse. One day, a dirty old cab stopped beside ours. An old, tired horse with a red coat was pulling the cab. She looked very sick and tired, but also familiar. When she looked at me, her eyes shone with surprise. ‘Black Beauty? Is it really you?’ she asked. It was Ginger! Her beautiful neck was now hanging down; her legs were bent from all the hard work, her coat wasn't shiny anymore and her eyes were dull and full of pain. ‘What happened to you?’ I asked. ‘People bought and sold me many times,’ she said. ‘Each owner was worse than the one before. They all wanted to make as much money from me as they could. They whipped me and mistreated me and didn't care when I suffered.’ ‘I don't remember you letting people treat you badly,’ I said. ‘Why didn't you teach them a lesson?’ ‘I did once,’ she said. ‘But men are stronger and very cruel. There
is nothing we can do when they make us suffer. All I want now is for my life to end.’ Just as she left, she said, ‘You are the only friend I ever had.’ I was sad to see her leave. A few days later a wagon passed by carrying a dead horse with a red coat that looked like Ginger. ‘If it is her,’ I thought, ‘I am happy her pain is over.’ One cold afternoon, two men asked us to take them to a party in a large, beautiful house. ‘Wait here,’ they said and went in. It was very cold and windy that day and after a while it began to snow. Jerry put a rug over me and he walked around to keep himself warm. After midnight the men were still in the house. Jerry knocked on the door and a servant told him to wait some more. Finally, hours later, the men came out of the house. When we went home, Jerry was ill and could hardly speak. He could not stop coughing. In the morning, Harry came to the stables to feed us. He was very quiet that morning and didn't say a word to us. I knew that something was wrong, because we did not go to work that day even though it was Wednesday. In the afternoon, Harry and Dolly came to the stables to clean and feed us. ‘Do you think father will die, Harry?’ asked Dolly. ‘I don't know, Dolly,’ said the boy quietly. ‘The doctor said that we will know tonight or tomorrow.’ Three days later, the doctor told Jerry that he was out of danger but he should not work as a cab driver anymore. Then, one morning, Dolly came to the stables with news. ‘Harry, mother received a letter from Mrs Fowler, her old mistress. Her coachman is leaving,’ she said. ‘It's the perfect job for father, Harry! We're all going to live in the country! They've got a good school for me there, and you can work as a stable boy!’ I was happy that Jerry was feeling better, but I was very sad because I loved the family very much; now they would have to sell me. And so it was. The day came for going away and the family came to see me and say goodbye. ‘Poor Jack,’ said Polly and kissed me. ‘I'm sorry we can't take you with us!’ Little Dolly was crying and kissed me too. Harry and Jerry said nothing; they only looked very sad.
Jerry found me a new home with a baker. He hoped that I would have good food and kindness, but my master was always away on business and left Jakes, his assistant, in charge of me. Jakes wanted to do everything quickly. He tried to save time by filling the cart as much as he could. He didn't care that it was very difficult and dangerous for me. One hot day, I had to pull a very heavy cart up a hill. The road was rough and Jakes had put the bearing rein on me. I tried hard to do my best but the cart wouldn't move. The bearing rein kept my head high so I couldn't use my neck to pull and the bit in my mouth hurt a lot. ‘Go on, you lazy horse!’ said Jakes and whipped me. ‘Stop! Don't whip your horse anymore,’ said a young lady who was watching the scene. ‘Can't you see that he is doing his best?’ The young lady came close to me and patted me gently. ‘The cart is very heavy,’ she said. ‘Give him a chance! Why don't you take off his bearing rein? I'm sure that would help.’ Jakes laughed. ‘I'll do it to please you,’ he said. ‘But I don't think it will help.’ Without the bearing rein it was easier for me to put my head down and pull. ‘You're such a good horse,’ said the young lady. ‘I know you can pull this cart.’ I put my head down and, without the bearing rein, pulled the heavy cart up the hill. ‘See!’ said the young lady. ‘I knew he could do it! Why don't you get rid of the bearing rein? It will make his life easier.’ Jakes thought for a moment. ‘Next time he has to pull the cart up a hill, I'll take off the bearing rein,’ he said. ‘But people will laugh at me if I don't use it. You see, Miss, it is the fashion!’ ‘I don't think it is a good idea to follow a bad fashion,’ said the young lady. After that, Jakes stopped using the bearing rein and that was a good thing; but the carts were still very heavy. All the hard work and bad food damaged my health. The baker saw that I could not pull his heavy carts anymore so he sold me.
My new master was called Skinner. He was tall with dark eyes and a crooked nose. He owned many horses that he rented to cab drivers. We worked hard without rest because Skinner was cruel to the drivers and the drivers were cruel to the horses. My life as a cab horse with Skinner was different to what it had been when I lived with Jerry. I was very unhappy. Nobody cared about me anymore and I lost all hope of a better life. And there were times I even wished that I was dead. One day, the cab driver picked up a family at the railway station. As the father told the driver where to load their bags, his little girl came and patted me. ‘Look, Father,’ she said. ‘This poor horse is so weak and exhausted. He can't pull all our bags. Can't we take two cabs?’ ‘It's all right,’ said the cab driver. ‘Blackie's a strong horse.’ The father ignored the little girl's advice. ‘Let the man do his job, Grace!’ he said and they got inside the cab. I tried hard to pull the cab, but it was too heavy. My hooves slipped and there was a loud crash as I fell to the ground. I could not move. I lay still with my eyes closed.
‘Oh, no, Father!’ said the little girl. ‘The poor horse! It's our fault!’ People ran to help. The cab driver took off the bearing rein. Someone else threw water on me. ‘I think he's dead!’ said another cab driver. I don't know how long I was on the ground. With a little bit of help, after a while, I was able to stand up and go to the stables. ‘This horse is exhausted,’ said the doctor. ‘He is thin and very weak. I don't think he will be able to work as a cab horse again.’ ‘I can't keep a sick horse,’ said Skinner. ‘What shall I do with a horse that can't work?’ ‘Give him a few days of rest so that he can get better,’ said the doctor. ‘There is a horse fair in ten days; you may be able to sell him after he's had some rest and good food.’ Skinner listened to the doctor and let me relax. I enjoyed my rest and hoped for the best. I knew that life in my new home would be better than living with Skinner.
My second experience of a horse fair was very different from the first one. This time, I wasn't in a stall with the strong horses but in another stall surrounded by horses that looked tired, thin and sick. Most buyers walked by without even noticing me. Few people seemed interested in buying a horse from our stall. After all, what good is a horse with so many problems? Later in the day, a man with a kind face stood near us with his grandson. The man looked carefully at me. I still had a thick mane and nice tail that made me look quite handsome. I held my head high and stood as tall and still as I could while the man looked at me. ‘Do you see that horse, Willie?’ said the farmer. ‘He looks like he came from a good home. I am sure he was special when he was young.’ ‘Do you suppose that he was ever a carriage horse?’ asked young Willie. ‘Yes, my boy!’ said the grandfather. ‘Look at his nose, neck and shoulders. Look at the way he stands. He has manners. Horses like this one belong with squires and wealthy people.’ ‘He doesn't look like a rich man's horse now,’ said his grandson. ‘I wonder what happened to him.’ ‘I suppose he had some hard times,’ said the man. ‘Perhaps he was just unlucky.’ ‘Poor horse!’ said Willie. He put his hand on my neck and patted me. I put my nose in his hand. ‘Look, Grandpa! He understands kindness. Let's buy him and make him young again, just as we did with Ladybird!’ The horse seller walked to us. ‘Hello, Farmer Thoroughgood,’ he said. ‘You should listen to your grandson. That young boy knows what he is talking about!’ Farmer Thoroughgood laughed. Then opened my mouth and gently examined me. He lifted my tail and carefully patted my legs. ‘Please, will you buy him?’ asked Willie.
At the end of the day I left the horse fair with my new owners. Farmer Thoroughgood and Willie bought me for five pounds. I was so happy because they seemed kind and they knew all about horses. At my new home, life was wonderful. During the day, I ran around the farm and I felt like a young colt again. I remembered the days when I was little and played in the field while my mother went to work. I soon got better with plenty of rest, good food and gentle exercise. My legs improved and I felt and looked young again. Willie was in charge of me and did a great job taking care of me. He made sure I had everything I needed and, sometimes, he gave me carrots or other nice things to eat. He spoke to me with kindness and very soon I forgot the bad times with Skinner. I was glad to be alive! Farmer Thoroughgood was pleased with me. ‘Good job, Willie!’ he said. ‘Old Crony will be as good as Ladybird soon. He has a beautiful mouth and his legs are now strong enough to do some light work.’ ‘Aren't you glad we bought him?’ asked Willie. ‘I certainly am,’ said Farmer Thoroughgood. ‘Thanks to you, Willie, this horse is well again. All we need to do now is to find him a good home.’ ‘I'll be sad to see Old Crony go,’ said Willie. ‘He has been so good!’ ‘Don't worry, Willie!’ said Farmer Thoroughgood. ‘Old Crony will go to the home he deserves.’
One day, during summer, I was cleaned and brushed with extra care. Willie was kinder than usual. I noticed a small tear running down his face. ‘Look at you!’ said Willie. ‘You look so handsome. I hope the ladies like you.’ ‘If the ladies like him, then he'll have a good home for the rest of his life,’ said Farmer Thoroughgood. They tied me to the front of the carriage and we rode out of the village until we came to a pretty house surrounded by flowers. The boy rang the doorbell. ‘Are the ladies home?’ he asked a servant. ‘Yes, they are here. I will call them,’ said the servant. We waited for a while until three ladies came to see us. One was tall and pale, and was wearing a white shawl. Her name was Lavinia; the lady next to her had rosy cheeks and a big smile. She was Miss Ellen. The third one was a very serious woman and looked very important. That was Miss Blomefield. ‘He is beautiful,’ said Miss Ellen. ‘I like him!’ ‘Look at his knees,’ said Miss Blomefield. Then a young man came to look at me. At first, he was as pleased, but then he too saw my knees. ‘Farmer Thoroughgood, I don't think this horse is suitable,’ he said. ‘Look at those knees!’ ‘Well, many horses have knees like that, but it’s not their fault,’ said Farmer Thoroughgood. ‘Try him for a week and you will see he is as safe as any other horse. You can send him back if you aren't happy.’ They all agreed that I would stay for a week to let the groom decide if I was good enough for the ladies. The groom took me to my stables and began to brush me. As he did that, he noticed the star on my face. ‘I've seen a star like that before,’ he said. ‘It is like the star that Black Beauty had.’ He looked at me again and examined me more carefully. ‘That white foot is like Black Beauty's foot… and the white hairs on his back… Black Beauty? It's you! Isn't it?’ I was surprised that he knew me. I looked at the groom but didn't
recognise him at all. ‘Black Beauty! Do you remember me? I'm Joe Green from Birtwick Park!’ he said. He put his arms around my neck and gave me a big hug and I put my nose up to him, to show him I understood. I felt happy to find an old friend and he looked very pleased too. The next day, Green told the ladies my story. ‘There was never a better horse than Black Beauty,’ he said. ‘I will write to Mrs Gordon and tell her that her favourite horse is with us,’ said Miss Blomefield. I now live with Joe Green. He is the kindest groom I could wish for. Farmer Thoroughgood and Willie visit me too and we are special friends. I feel stronger than ever thanks to the good food, fresh air and kindness. My work is easy and pleasant and I am very happy with the ladies. They are kind and gentle. My troubles are over and I am at home. And often, I dream that I am still a young horse at Birtwick, standing with my old friends under the apple trees.
1. Darkie’s mother gives him lots of advice. What advice do your
mother and father give you?
2. For fun, Darkie runs around the field with the other young horses.
What do you do for fun with your friends?
3. If you could have any animal in the world, which animal would you
choose and why?
4. Darkie’s master says that a young horse needs to learn how to do
many things. What, in your opinion, does a young person need to
learn?
5. Have you ever visited a zoo? If yes, what did or didn’t you like about
it? Why?
1. How do you think Darkie felt when he first arrived at his new
home? How do you feel when you do or start something new?
2. Do you think Merrylegs and Darkie will become good friends?
Why/Why not?
3. Is it easy for you to make new friends? Why/Why not?
4. What is your opinion of Squire and Mrs Gordon? Why?
5. Merrylegs says that Ginger has a bad habit – biting. What bad habits
can you think of that some people have? What annoys you the most?
1. The fire in the stables was dangerous for both the horses and the
people. Can you think of any other situations where people’s lives
can be in danger?
2. Bad weather caused a lot of problems for Black Beauty, Squire
Gordon and John Manly. Has bad weather ever caused problems for
you or someone you know?
3. Squire Gordon says that animals can be clever. Which animals do
you think are clever and why?
4. James Howard was brave to go into the burning stables to save the
horses. Have you, or anyone you know, done anything brave to help
other people?
5. Everyone agreed that it was a wise rule that pipes are not allowed in
the stables. What rules are there in your school, house or place of
work? What are you allowed and not allowed to do?
1. Black Beauty became sick after he got back to Birtwick Park. Have
you ever been sick? What was wrong with you and what happened?
Who or what helped you get better?
2. How do you think Black Beauty felt when he learnt that he was
going to a new home? How would you feel in his place? Why?
3. Mr York says that fashion is very important to Lady Westerly. Is
fashion important to you? Why/Why not?
4. Squire Gordon and his wife are going to move to another country.
Would you like to live in a different country? Where, and why?
1. How do you think Ginger felt when Black Beauty left for his new
home? Why?
2. At first, Black Beauty found that the food in his new home was
good. What food do you like and not like, and why?
3. Black Beauty lived in a time when there were no cars. What other
things did people not have at that time? Would you like to have
lived in that time?
4. Exercise is very important for both horses and people. What
exercise do you get, and how often?
5. Mr Barry’s two grooms tricked him and he felt very bad about it. Do
you think he was right to feel this way?
1. ‘Dolly was eight and looked just like her mother.’ Do you look like
someone in your family? Who do you look like, and how are you
similar?
2. The drivers called Grant ‘the governor’ because they respected him
very much. Who do you respect, and why?
3. In the story, three men were in a hurry to go somewhere. Are people
these days in a hurry? Why? What are their lives like?
4. Jerry did not want to take extra money from his customers. How
important do you think money is?
5. Jerry liked to spend every Sunday with his family. How do you like
to spend time with your family?
1. People work so that they can have some money. What other reasons
do people have for working?
2. ‘A cab driver’s job wasn’t easy... ’ Which jobs do you think are easy,
and which are hard? Why?
3. ‘Jerry knocked on the door and a servant told him to wait some
more.’ What do you think life was like for a servant in those days?
4. ‘It’s the perfect job for father, Harry!’ says Dolly. What do you think
is the perfect job for you, and why?
5. Dolly and Harry are going to move to the country. Which do you
prefer, life in the city or life in the country? Why?
1. In Chapter 8, a young lady tried to help Black Beauty. Have you ever
helped anyone? How? What did you do?
2. Jakes tells the young lady that the bearing rein ‘is the fashion’.
Fashion is important to some people. Is it important to you? How?
What is in fashion now?
3. The doctor tells Skinner that Black Beauty needs rest and good
food. What food do you like, and why? Do you think good food is
important? Why?
4. Black Beauty ‘tried hard to pull the cab, but it was too heavy’. Have
you ever tried hard to do something, but couldn’t? What did you try
to do, and why couldn’t you do it?
5. ‘The father ignored the little girl’s advice.’ Have you ever ignored
anyone’s advice? What happened? Were you right or wrong to ignore
their advice?
1. What made Farmer Thoroughgood and Willie decide to buy Black
Beauty rather than any of the other horses in his stall?
2. Farmer Thoroughgood notices Black Beauty for his appearance and for
his manners. What is important to you when you first meet someone?
3. Are the lives of animals or people worth less as they get old, tired and sick?
4. What should we do with animals that are too old or injured to work?
5. What do you think will happen to Black Beauty now that he will be
sold again?
1. What do you think the mystery surrounding Oliver’s true identity
is? Why did Monks want to hide it?
2. Why does Nancy still consider these horrible people her family?
3. What do you think Rose will do now that she has all that information?