BLACK BEAUTY

Anna Sewell ABRIDGED & ILLUSTRATED

This edition first originated and published in 2013 Reprint - July 2022

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© Black Beauty (The Autobiography of a Horse) ISBN: 978-93-81438-67-1 HSN Code: 49011010 Book Code: S-145 No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

C O N T E N TS PART I MY EARLY HOME

09

THE HUNT

13

MY BREAKING IN

17

BIRTWICK PARK

23

A FAIR START

26

LIBERTY

31

GINGER

33

GINGER'S STORY CONTINUED

39

MERRYLEGS

44

A TALK IN THE ORCHARD

48

PLAIN SPEAKING

53

A STORMY DAYT

58

THE DEVIL'S TRADE MARK

62

JAMES HOWARD

67

THE OLD HOSTLER

71

THE FIRE

75

JOHN MANLY'S TALK

80

GOING FOR THE DOCTOR

86

ONLY IGNORANCE

91

JOE GREEN

95

THE PARTING

98

PART II EARLSHALL

103

A STRIKE FOR LIBERTY

110

THE LADY ANNE, OR A RUNAWAY HORSE

113

REUBEN SMITH

122

HOW IT ENDED

127

RUINED AND GOING DOWNHILL

131

A JOB HORSE AND HIS DRIVERS

135

COCKNEYS

140

A THIEF

149

A HUMBUG

152

PART III A HORSE FAIR

159

A LONDON CAB HORSE

164

AN OLD WAR HORSE

169

JERRY BARKER

176

THE SUNDAY CAB

182

THE GOLDEN RULE

187

DOLLY AND A REAL GENTLEMAN

192

SEEDY SAM

197

POOR GINGER

203

THE BUTCHER

206

THE ELECTION

211

A FRIEND IN NEED

214

OLD CAPTAIN AND HIS SUCCESSOR

220

JERRY'S NEW YEAR

225

PART IV JAKES AND THE LADY

235

HARD TIMES

240

FARMER THOROUGHGOOD AND HIS GRANDSON WILLIE

247

MY LAST HOME

252

INTRODUCTION “Black Beauty” is a marvel of a novel. It is the darling of young readers. Ever since its publication, its charm has not diminished even to an iota. Children have the intellect sharp enough to perceive instantaneously that “Black Beauty” is a horse who speaks in the first person, and is the narrator. Children feel themselves not only to be the owners of the horse, but also they find a true friend in it whom they ride and who takes them to numerous places in several shapes and statuses. It is an adroit method that has been used by the celebrated authoress in making the horse speak and tell its own story—its parents, different masters from childhood to fairly advanced age. Some people believe that animals used to talk long long ago in the remote periods of time. We may be laughing at them. But after reading the account given here by a horse in regard to its 5

variegated experience with different people in different roles, on different terrains and in different states of health, we have per force to accept that animals can indeed talk, though their language may not be intelligible to all. One of the greatest charms of the book is its appeal to mankind to have mercy on mute animals like horses and not to be cruel to them by making them work beyond their capacity and in unwelcome weather, situations, etc.

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Part I

CHAPTER 1

My Early Home

T

he first place that I can well remember was a large pleasant meadow with a pond of clear water in it. Over the hedge on one side we looked into a plowed field, and on the other we looked over a gate at our master's house, which stood by the roadside; at the top of the meadow was a grove of fir trees, and at the bottom a running brook overhung by a steep bank. While I was young I lived upon my mother's milk, as I could not eat grass. In the daytime I ran by her side, and at night I lay down close by her. As soon as I was old enough to eat grass my mother used to go out to work in the daytime, and come back in the evening. There were six young colts in the meadow besides me; they were older than I was; some BLACK BEAUTY

9

My mother said to me, “You have been well bred and well born.” 10 BLACK BEAUTY

were nearly as large as grown-up horses. I used to run with them, and had great fun; sometimes we had rather rough play, for they would frequently bite and kick as well as gallop. One day, my mother whinnied to me to come to her, and then she said: “The colts who live here are cart-horse colts, and of course they have not learned manners. You have been well-bred and wellborn; your father has a great name in these parts, and your grandfather won the cup two years at the Ne wmarket race s; your grandmother had the sweetest temper of any horse I ever knew, and I think you have never seen me kick or bite. I hope you will grow up gentle and good, and never bite or kick even in play.” I knew she was a wise old horse, and our master thought a great deal of her. Her name was Duchess, but he often called her Pet. Our master was a good, kind man. He gave us good food, good lodging, and kind words. We were all fond of him, and my mother loved him very much. When she saw him at BLACK BEAUTY

11

the gate she would neigh with joy, and trot up to him. He would pat and stroke her and say, “Well, old Pet, and how is your little Darkie?” I was a dull black, so he called me Darkie. All the horses would come to him, but I think we were his favorites. My mother always took him to the town on a market day in a light gig. There was a plowboy, Dick, who would sometimes have what he called fun with the colts, throwing stones and sticks at them to make them gallop. We did not much mind him, for we could gallop off; but sometimes a stone would hit and hurt us. One day the master saw him induge in this fun. He sacked him at once. So we never saw Dick any more. Old Daniel, the man who looked after the horses, was just as gentle as our master, so we were well off.

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CHAPTER 2

The Hunt

B

efore I was two years old a circumstance happened which I have never forgotten. It was early in the spring; I and the other colts were feeding at the lower part of the field when we heard, what sounded like the cry of dogs. The oldest of the colts, pricked his ears, and said, “There are the hounds!” and immediately cantered off, followed by the rest of us to the upper part of the field. “They have found a hare,” said my mother. And soon the dogs were all tearing down the field of young wheat next to ours. They did not bark, nor howl, nor whine, but kept on a “yo! yo, o, o! yo! yo, o, o!” at the top of their voices. After them came a number of men on horseback, all galloping as fast as they could. Then the dogs left off barking, BLACK BEAUTY

13

and ran about every way with their noses to the ground. “They have lost the scent,” said the old horse; “perhaps the hare will get off.” But before long the dogs began their “yo! yo, o, o!” again, and back they came altogether at full speed, making straight for our meadow. Just then a hare wild with fright rushed by and made for the woods. On came the dogs. Six or eight men leaped their horses clean over, close upon the dogs. The hare tried to get through the fence; but it was too late; the dogs were upon her, and that was the end of her. One of the huntsmen rode up and held her up by the leg torn and bleeding. I was so astonished that I did not at first see what was going on by the brook; but when I did look there was a sad sight; two fine horses were down, one was struggling in the stream, and the other was groaning on the grass. One of the riders was getting out of the water covered with mud, the other lay quite still. 14 BLACK BEAUTY

“His neck is broke,” said my mother. My mother said, “though I am an old horse, I never yet could make out why men are so fond of this sport; they often hurt themselves, often spoil good horses, and tear up the fields, and all for a hare or a fox, or a stag.” Many of the riders had gone to the young man; but my master, who had been watching what was going on, was the first to raise him. They carried him to our master's house. I heard afterward that it was young George Gordon, the squire's only son, a fine, tall young man, and the pride of his family. There was now riding off in all directions to the doctor's, to the farrier's, and no doubt to Squire Gordon's, to let him know about his son. When Mr. Bond, the farrier, came to look at the black horse that lay groaning on the grass, he felt him all over, and shook his head; one of his legs was broken. Then some one ran to our master's house and came back with a gun; presently there was a loud bang and a dreadful shriek, and then all was still; the black horse moved no more. BLACK BEAUTY

15

My mother seemed much troubled; she said she had known that horse for years, and that his name was “Rob Roy”. Not many days after we heard the churchbell tolling for a long time. They were carrying young Gordon to the churchyard to bury him. What they did with Rob Roy I never knew; but 'twas all for one little hare.

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The series of “Immortal Illustrated Classics” which fascinated readers for centuries has been retold for young readers with catchy & lively illustrations.

BLACK BEAUTY Anna Sewell Black Beauty is an 1877 novel by English author Anna Sewell. Black Beauty is one of the best-selling books of all time. The Story is narrated as an autobiographical memoir by the titular horse named Black Beauty—beginning with his carefree days as a colt on an English farm with his mother, to his difficult life pulling cabs in London, to his happy retirement in the country. Along the way, he meets with many hardships and recounts many tales of cruelty and kindness. Each chapter recounts an incident in Black Beauty’s life containing a lesson or moral typically related to the kindness, sympathy, and understanding treatment of horses, with Sewell’s detailed observations and extensive descriptions of horse behaviour lending the novel a good deal of verisimilitude.

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Book Code : S-145 ISBN 978-93-81438-67-1