Black Beauty Anna Sewell (ebook reader play store txt) 📖

“Say twenty-five and you shall have him.”

“Twenty-four ten,” said my friend, in a very decided tone, “and not another sixpence⁠—yes or no?”

“Done,” said the salesman, “and you may depend upon it there’s a monstrous deal of quality in that horse, and if you want him for cab work he’s a bargain.”

The money was paid on the spot, and my new master took my halter, and led me out of the fair to an inn, where he had a saddle and bridle ready. He gave me a good feed of oats and stood by while I ate it, talking to himself and talking to me. Half an hour after we were on our way to London, through pleasant lanes and country roads, until we came into the great London thoroughfare, on which we traveled steadily, till in the twilight we reached the great city. The gas lamps were already lighted; there were streets to the right, and streets to the left, and streets crossing each other, for mile upon mile. I thought we should never come to the end of them. At last, in passing through one, we came to a long cab stand, when my rider called out in a cheery voice, “Good night, governor!”

“Halloo!” cried a voice. “Have you got a good one?”

“I think so,” replied my owner.

“I wish you luck with him.”

“Thank you, governor,” and he rode on. We soon turned up one of the side streets, and about halfway up that we turned into a very narrow street, with rather poor-looking houses on one side, and what seemed to be coach-houses and stables on the other.

My owner pulled up at one of the houses and whistled. The door flew open, and a young woman, followed by a little girl and boy, ran out. There was a very lively greeting as my rider dismounted.

“Now, then, Harry, my boy, open the gates, and mother will bring us the lantern.”

The next minute they were all standing round me in a small stable-yard.

“Is he gentle, father?”

“Yes, Dolly, as gentle as your own kitten; come and pat him.”

At once the little hand was patting about all over my shoulder without fear. How good it felt!

“Let me get him a bran mash while you rub him down,” said the mother.

“Do, Polly, it’s just what he wants; and I know you’ve got a beautiful mash ready for me.”

“Sausage dumpling and apple turnover!” shouted the boy, which set them all laughing. I was led into a comfortable, clean-smelling stall, with plenty of dry straw, and after a capital supper I lay down, thinking I was going to be happy.

Jeremiah Barker was my new master’s name, but as everyone called him Jerry, I shall do the same. Polly, his wife, was just as good a match as a man could have. She was a plump, trim, tidy little woman, with smooth, dark hair, dark eyes, and a merry little mouth. The boy was twelve years old, a tall, frank, good-tempered lad; and little Dorothy (Dolly they called her) was her mother over again, at eight years old. They were all wonderfully fond of each other; I never knew such a happy, merry family before or since. Jerry had a cab of his own, and two horses, which he drove and attended to himself. His other horse was a tall, white, rather large-boned animal called Captain. He was old now, but when he was young he must have been splendid; he had still a proud way of holding his head and arching his neck; in fact, he was a high-bred, fine-mannered, noble old horse, every inch of him. He told me that in his early youth he went to the Crimean War; he belonged to an officer in the cavalry, and used to lead the regiment. I will tell more of that hereafter.

The next morning, when I was well-groomed, Polly and Dolly came into the yard to see me and make friends. Harry had been helping his father since the early morning, and had stated his opinion that I should turn out a “regular brick.” Polly brought me a slice of apple, and Dolly a piece of bread, and made as much of me as if I had been the Black Beauty of olden time. It was a great treat to be petted again and talked to in a gentle voice, and I let them see as well as I could that I wished to be friendly. Polly thought I was very handsome, and a great deal too good for a cab, if it was not for the broken knees.

“Of course there’s no one to tell us whose fault that was,” said Jerry, “and as long as I don’t know I shall give him the benefit of the doubt; for a firmer, neater stepper I never rode. We’ll call him Jack, after the old one⁠—shall we, Polly?”

“Do,” she said, “for I like to keep a good name going.”

Captain went out in the cab all the morning. Harry came in after school to feed me and give me water. In the afternoon I was put into the cab. Jerry took as much pains to see if the collar and bridle fitted comfortably as if he had been John Manly over again. When the crupper was let out a hole or two it all fitted well. There was no checkrein, no curb, nothing but a plain ring snaffle. What a blessing that was!

After driving through the side street we came to the large cab stand where Jerry had said “Good night.” On one side of this wide street were high houses with wonderful shop fronts, and on the other was an old church and churchyard, surrounded by iron palisades. Alongside these iron rails a number of cabs were drawn up, waiting for passengers; bits of hay were lying about on the ground; some of the men were standing together talking; some were sitting on their boxes reading the