by Anna Sewell
At last I reached my own box, and had some corn; and after Roberthad wrapped up my knees in wet cloths, he tied up my foot in a branpoultice, to draw out the heat and cleanse it before the horse-doctorsaw it in the morning, and I managed to get myself down on the straw,and slept in spite of the pain.
The next day after the farrier had examined my wounds, he said he hopedthe joint was not injured; and if so, I should not be spoiled for work,but I should never lose the blemish. I believe they did the best to makea good cure, but it was a long and painful one. Proud flesh, as theycalled it, came up in my knees, and was burned out with caustic; andwhen at last it was healed, they put a blistering fluid over the frontof both knees to bring all the hair off; they had some reason for this,and I suppose it was all right.
As Smith's death had been so sudden, and no one was there to see it,there was an inquest held. The landlord and hostler at the White Lion,with several other people, gave evidence that he was intoxicated when hestarted from the inn. The keeper of the toll-gate said he rode at a hardgallop through the gate; and my shoe was picked up among the stones, sothat the case was quite plain to them, and I was cleared of all blame.
Everybody pitied Susan. She was nearly out of her mind; she kept sayingover and over again, "Oh! he was so good--so good! It was all thatcursed drink; why will they sell that cursed drink? Oh Reuben, Reuben!"So she went on till after he was buried; and then, as she had no home orrelations, she, with her six little children, was obliged once more toleave the pleasant home by the tall oak-trees, and go into that greatgloomy Union House.
27 Ruined and Going Downhill
As soon as my knees were sufficiently healed I was turned into a smallmeadow for a month or two; no other creature was there; and though Ienjoyed the liberty and the sweet grass, yet I had been so long used tosociety that I felt very lonely. Ginger and I had become fast friends,and now I missed her company extremely. I often neighed when I heardhorses' feet passing in the road, but I seldom got an answer; till onemorning the gate was opened, and who should come in but dear old Ginger.The man slipped off her halter, and left her there. With a joyful whinnyI trotted up to her; we were both glad to meet, but I soon found that itwas not for our pleasure that she was brought to be with me. Her storywould be too long to tell, but the end of it was that she had beenruined by hard riding, and was now turned off to see what rest would do.
Lord George was young and would take no warning; he was a hard rider,and would hunt whenever he could get the chance, quite careless of hishorse. Soon after I left the stable there was a steeplechase, and hedetermined to ride. Though the groom told him she was a little strained,and was not fit for the race, he did not believe it, and on the day ofthe race urged Ginger to keep up with the foremost riders. With her highspirit, she strained herself to the utmost; she came in with the firstthree horses, but her wind was touched, besides which he was too heavyfor her, and her back was strained. "And so," she said, "here we are,ruined in the prime of our youth and strength, you by a drunkard, and Iby a fool; it is very hard." We both felt in ourselves that we were notwhat we had been. However, that did not spoil the pleasure we had ineach other's company; we did not gallop about as we once did, but weused to feed, and lie down together, and stand for hours under oneof the shady lime-trees with our heads close to each other; and so wepassed our time till the family returned from town.
One day we saw the earl come into the meadow, and York was with him.Seeing who it was, we stood still under our lime-tree, and let them comeup to us. They examined us carefully. The earl seemed much annoyed.
"There is three hundred pounds flung away for no earthly use," said he;"but what I care most for is that these horses of my old friend, whothought they would find a good home with me, are ruined. The mare shallhave a twelve-month's run, and we shall see what that will do for her;but the black one, he must be sold; 'tis a great pity, but I could nothave knees like these in my stables."
"No, my lord, of course not," said York; "but he might get a place whereappearance is not of much consequence, and still be well treated. I knowa man in Bath, the master of some livery stables, who often wants agood horse at a low figure; I know he looks well after his horses.The inquest cleared the horse's character, and your lordship'srecommendation, or mine, would be sufficient warrant for him."
"You had better write to him, York. I should be more particular aboutthe place than the money he would fetch."
After this they left us.
"They'll soon take you away," said Ginger, "and I shall lose the onlyfriend I have, and most likely we shall never see each other again. 'Tisa hard world!"
About a week after this Robert came into the field with a halter, whichhe slipped over my head, and led me away. There was no leave-takingof Ginger; we neighed to each other as I was led off, and she trottedanxiously along by the hedge, calling to me as long as she could hearthe sound of my feet.
Through the recommendation of York, I was bought by the master of thelivery stables. I had to go by train, which was new to me, and requireda good deal of courage the first time; but as I found the puffing,rushing, whistling, and, more than all, the trembling of the horse-boxin which I stood did me no real harm, I soon took it quietly.
When I reached the end of my journey I found myself in a tolerablycomfortable stable, and well attended to. These stables were not soairy and pleasant as those I had been used to. The stalls were laid ona slope instead of being level, and as my head was kept tied to themanger, I was obliged always to stand on the slope, which was veryfatiguing. Men do not seem to know yet that horses can do more work ifthey can stand comfortably and can turn about; however, I was well fedand well cleaned, and, on the whole, I think our master took as muchcare of us as he could. He kept a good many horses and carriages ofdifferent kinds for hire. Sometimes his own men drove them; atothers, the horse and chaise were let to gentlemen or ladies who drovethemselves.
28 A Job Horse and His Drivers
Hitherto I had always been driven by people who at least knew how todrive; but in this place I was to get my experience of all the differentkinds of bad and ignorant driving to which we horses are subjected; forI was a "job horse", and was let out to all sorts of people who wishedto hire me; and as I was good-tempered and gentle, I think I was oftenerlet out to the ignorant drivers than some of the other horses, becauseI could be depended upon. It would take a long time to tell of all thedifferent styles in which I was driven, but I will mention a few ofthem.
First, there were the tight-rein drivers--men who seemed to think thatall depended on holding the reins as hard as they could, never relaxingthe pull on the horse's mouth, or giving him the least liberty ofmovement. They are always talking about "keeping the horse well inhand", and "holding a horse up", just as if a horse was not made to holdhimself up.
Some poor, broken-down horses, whose mouths have been made hard andinsensible by just such drivers as these, may, perhaps, find somesupport in it; but for a horse who can depend upon his own legs, and whohas a tender mouth and is easily guided, it is not only tormenting, butit is stupid.
Then there are the loose-rein drivers, who let the reins lie easily onour backs, and their own hand rest lazily on their knees. Of course,such gentlemen have no control over a horse, if anything happenssuddenly. If a horse shies, or starts, or stumbles, they are nowhere,and cannot help the horse or themselves till the mischief is done. Ofcourse, for myself I had no objection to it, as I was not in the habiteither of starting or stumbling, and had only been used to depend on mydriver for guidance and encouragement. Still, one likes to feel the reina little in going downhill, and likes to know that one's driver is notgone to sleep.
Besides, a slovenly way of driving gets a horse into bad and often lazyhabits, and when he changes hands he has to be whipped out of them withmore or less pain and trouble. Squire Gordon always kept us to our bestpaces and our best manners. He said that spoiling a horse and lettinghim get into bad habits was just as cruel as spoiling a child, and bothhad to suffer
for it afterward.
Besides, these drivers are often careless altogether, and will attend toanything else more than their horses. I went out in the phaeton one daywith one of them; he had a lady and two children behind. He flopped thereins about as we started, and of course gave me several unmeaning cutswith the whip, though I was fairly off. There had been a good deal ofroad-mending going on, and even where the stones were not freshly laiddown there were a great many loose ones about. My driver was laughingand joking with the lady and the children, and talking about the countryto the right and the left; but he never thought it worth while to keepan eye on his horse or to drive on the smoothest parts of the road; andso it easily happened that I got a stone in one of my fore feet.
Now, if Mr. Gordon or John, or in fact any good driver, had been there,he would have seen that something was wrong before I had gone threepaces. Or even if it had been dark a practiced hand would have felt bythe rein that there was something wrong in the step, and they would havegot down and picked out the stone. But this man went on laughing andtalking, while at every step the stone became more firmly wedged betweenmy shoe and the frog of my foot. The stone was sharp on the inside andround on the outside, which, as every one knows, is the most dangerouskind that a horse can pick up, at the same time cutting his foot andmaking him most liable to stumble and fall.
Whether the man was partly blind or only very careless I can't say, buthe drove me with that stone in my foot for a good half-mile before hesaw anything. By that time I was going so lame with the pain that atlast he saw it, and called out, "Well, here's a go! Why, they have sentus out with a lame horse! What a shame!"
He then chucked the reins and flipped about with the whip, saying, "Now,then, it's no use playing the old soldier with me; there's the journeyto go, and it's no use turning lame and lazy."
Just at this time a farmer came riding up on a brown cob. He lifted hishat and pulled up.
"I beg your pardon, sir," he said, "but I think there is something thematter with your horse; he goes very much as if he had a stone inhis shoe. If you will allow me I will look at his feet; these loosescattered stones are confounded dangerous things for the horses."
"He's a hired horse," said my driver. "I don't know what's the matterwith him, but it is a great shame to send out a lame beast like this."
The farmer dismounted, and slipping his rein over his arm at once tookup my near foot.
"Bless me, there's a stone! Lame! I should think so!"
At first he tried to dislodge it with his hand, but as it was nowvery tightly wedged he drew a stone-pick out of his pocket, and verycarefully and with some trouble got it out. Then holding it up he said,"There, that's the stone your horse had picked up. It is a wonder he didnot fall down and break his knees into the bargain!"
"Well, to be sure!" said my driver; "that is a queer thing! I never knewthat horses picked up stones before."
"Didn't you?" said the farmer rather contemptuously; "but they do,though, and the best of them will do it, and can't help it sometimes onsuch roads as these. And if you don't want to lame your horse you mustlook sharp and get them out quickly. This foot is very much bruised,"he said, setting it gently down and patting me. "If I might advise,sir, you had better drive him gently for awhile; the foot is a good dealhurt, and the lameness will not go off directly."
Then mounting his cob and raising his hat to the lady he trotted off.
When he was gone my driver began to flop the reins about and whip theharness, by which I understood that I was to go on, which of course Idid, glad that the stone was gone, but still in a good deal of pain.
This was the sort of experience we job horses often came in for.
29 Cockneys
Then there is the steam-engine style of driving; these drivers weremostly people from towns, who never had a horse of their own andgenerally traveled by rail.
They always seemed to think that a horse was something like asteam-engine, only smaller. At any rate, they think that if only theypay for it a horse is bound to go just as far and just as fast and withjust as heavy a load as they please. And be the roads heavy and muddy,or dry and good; be they stony or smooth, uphill or downhill, it is allthe same--on, on, on, one must go, at the same pace, with no relief andno consideration.
These people never think of getting out to walk up a steep hill. Oh, no,they have paid to ride, and ride they will! The horse? Oh, he's usedto it! What were horses made for, if not to drag people uphill? Walk! Agood joke indeed! And so the whip is plied and the rein is chucked andoften a rough, scolding voice cries out, "Go along, you lazy beast!" Andthen another slash of the whip, when all the time we are doing ourvery best to get along, uncomplaining and obedient, though often sorelyharassed and down-hearted.
This steam-engine style of driving wears us up faster than any otherkind. I would far rather go twenty miles with a good considerate driverthan I would go ten with some of these; it would take less out of me.
Another thing, they scarcely ever put on the brake, however steep thedownhill may be, and thus bad accidents sometimes happen; or if they doput it on, they often forget to take it off at the bottom of the hill,and more than once I have had to pull halfway up the next hill, with oneof the wheels held by the brake, before my driver chose to think aboutit; and that is a terrible strain on a horse.
Then these cockneys, instead of starting at an easy pace, as a gentlemanwould do, generally set off at full speed from the very stable-yard; andwhen they want to stop, they first whip us, and then pull up so suddenlythat we are nearly thrown on our haunches, and our mouths jagged withthe bit--they call that pulling up with a dash; and when they turn acorner they do it as sharply as if there were no right side or wrongside of the road.
I well remember one spring evening I and Rory had been out for the day.(Rory was the horse that mostly went with me when a pair was ordered,and a good honest fellow he was.) We had our own driver, and as he wasalways considerate and gentle with us, we had a very pleasant day. Wewere coming home at a good smart pace, about twilight. Our road turnedsharp to the left; but as we were close to the hedge on our own side,and there was plenty of room to pass, our driver did not pull us in. Aswe neared the corner I heard a horse and two wheels coming rapidly downthe hill toward us. The hedge was high, and I could see nothing, but thenext moment we were upon each other. Happily for me, I was on the sidenext the hedge. Rory was on the left side of the pole, and had not evena shaft to protect him. The man who was driving was making straight forthe corner, and when he came in sight of us he had no time to pull overto his own side. The whole shock came upon Rory. The gig shaft ran rightinto the chest, making him stagger back with a cry that I shall neverforget. The other horse was thrown upon his haunches and one shaftbroken. It turned out that it was a horse from our own stables, with thehigh-wheeled gig that the young men were so fond of.
The driver was one of those random, ignorant fellows, who don't evenknow which is their own side of the road, or, if they know, don't care.And there was poor Rory with his flesh torn open and bleeding, and theblood streaming down. They said if it had been a little more to one sideit would have killed him; and a good thing for him, poor fellow, if ithad.
As it was, it was a long time before the wound healed, and then he wassold for coal-carting; and what that is, up and down those steep hills,only horses know. Some of the sights I saw there, where a horse had tocome downhill with a heavily loaded two-wheel cart behind him, on whichno brake could be placed, make me sad even now to think of.
After Rory was disabled I often went in the carriage with a mare namedPeggy, who stood in the next stall to mine. She was a strong, well-madeanimal, of a bright dun color, beautifully dappled, and with adark-brown mane and tail. There was no high breeding about her, but shewas very pretty and remarkably sweet-tempered and willing. Still, therewas an anxious look about her eye, by which I knew that she had sometrouble. The first time we went out together I thought she had a veryodd pace; she seemed to go partly a trot, partly a canter,
three or fourpaces, and then a little jump forward.
It was very unpleasant for any horse who pulled with her, and made mequite fidgety. When we got home I asked her what made her go in thatodd, awkward way.
"Ah," she said in a troubled manner, "I know my paces are very bad, butwhat can I do? It really is not my fault; it is just because my legs areso short. I stand nearly as high as you, but your legs are a good threeinches longer above your knee than mine, and of course you can take amuch longer step and go much faster. You see I did not make myself.I wish I could have done so; I would have had long legs then. All mytroubles come from my short legs," said Peggy, in a desponding tone.
"But how is it," I said, "when you are so strong and good-tempered andwilling?"
"Why, you see," said she, "men will go so fast, and if one can't keep upto other horses it is nothing but whip, whip, whip, all the time. And soI have had to keep up as I could, and have got into this ugly shufflingpace. It was not always so; when I lived with my first master I alwayswent a good regular trot, but then he was not in such a hurry. He was ayoung clergyman in the country, and a good, kind master he was. He hadtwo churches a good way apart, and a great deal of work, but he neverscolded or whipped me for not going faster. He was very fond of me.I only wish I was with him now; but he had to leave and go to a largetown, and then I was sold to a farmer.
"Some farmers, you know, are capital masters; but I think this one was alow sort of man. He cared nothing about good horses or good driving; heonly cared for going fast. I went as fast as I could, but that wouldnot do, and he was always whipping; so I got into this way of making aspring forward to keep up. On market nights he used to stay very late atthe inn, and then drive home at a gallop.
