Black Beauty

The name of the groom was John Manly. The next morning, he took out his brushes, gave me a good grooming, and then put a saddle on me. He rode me slowly at first, and then quickly. As we came back through the park, we met Mr and Mrs Gordon. They stopped and John jumped off. “Well, John, how does he go?” said Mr Gordon. “He is a fine horse, sir,” said John. “He is fast, but the lightest touch of the rein will guide him. They were shooting birds near Highwood, and a gun went off close by. He pulled up a little, but I just held the rein and he wasn’t frightened at all. It’s my opinion that he was never frightened or beaten when he was young.” “Good,” said Mr Gordon. “I’ll ride him tomorrow.” I remembered my mother’s advice, and the next day, I tried to do exactly what my master wanted me to do. He was a very good rider, and when he came home, his wife was waiting for him at the door. “How do you like him, my dear?” Mrs Gordon asked. “I have never ridden a more pleasant horse,” answered Mr Gordon. “What shall we call him?” “What about Blackbird, like your uncle’s old horse?” said his wife. “He is far handsomer than Blackbird,” said Mr Gordon. “Yes,” she said, “he’s quite a beauty, and he has a kind and intelligent face. Shall we call him Black Beauty?” “Black Beauty! I think that is a very good name,” said Mr Gordon. John went into the stable and told James. “I’d call him Rob Roy,” said James, “if it didn’t remind everyone of the past. I never saw two horses more alike.” “That isn’t surprising,” said John. “Didn’t you know that Farmer Grey’s old Duchess was the mother of them both?” So poor Rob Roy who was killed at the hunt was my brother! Now I understood why my mother was so unhappy when he died. John was very proud of me, and seemed to know just how a horse felt, and James was kind, too.