Black Beauty

By Anna Sewell

A jet-black young colt, Black Beauty, spends his early years in a cozy meadow growing up with a gentle master, a strong mother and an ideal upbringing. Through the years, he changes hands with different masters— some rough, some kind, some indifferent. Black Beauty' s experiences throughout his life give him lessons on real friendship, loss, hardship and human nature. Gallop with Black Beauty as he grows into a worn yet mature and handsome, dutiful and loyal old horse.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wonder House Books
• Release date: Jul 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9789390183234

Anna Sewell

Anna Sewell (1820-1878) is a British novelist. Although she wrote a single book in her lifetime, Black Beauty (1877) has become one of the most beloved novels of all time. Due to an injury from a fall at 14 years old, Sewell became an invalid, and her resulting reliance on carriages led to her calling for the humane treatment of horses. Aside from her sole literary work, she assisted her mother in the editing of a series of popular children’s books.

Book preview

Chapter 1

My First Home

The first place I remember as my home was a large meadow with a pond of clear water in it, surrounded by trees. On one side of its fence was a ploughed field, with large fir trees and a brook running along the bottom. Our master lived in a house by the roadside, on the opposite side.

I stayed close to my mother during the day and lay by her side at night. While I was young, I lived on my mother’s milk. As I grew older and was able to eat grass, my mother went to work in the daytime and returned in the evening.

I had great fun galloping around with six other colts. They were older and larger than me. Some of them even looked like grown-up horses. Play time got rough sometimes, when the other colts would kick and bite.

One day, my mother told me, ‘Please listen carefully to what I’m about to tell you. Some of the other colts here belong to cart-horse families. But you come from a good family. Your father is well regarded, your grandfather was the champion at the races and your grandmother was known by all as a very sweet horse. I hope you too will grow up to be gentle, hardworking, never learn bad ways and never kick or bite, even at playtime.’

I always remember my mother and her advice. Our Master called her Pet, even though her name was Duchess. My mother would neigh joyously and trot up to the gate as soon as she saw him. And he would lovingly ask, ‘Hello dear Pet! How is our little Darkie?’ He called me Darkie as my skin was a dull black color. He would give me a piece of bread and a carrot to my mother. If he went to town, he would ride there on my mother.

There was a plough-boy named Dick who came into our field to pluck blackberries from the fence. He would throw stones at the colts to make them gallop. He thought this was fun but it would hurt us. One day, our master spotted him throwing stones at us and gave him such a box on his ear that he let out a loud cry of pain. Master scolded him, ‘Take your money and be gone! I do not wish to see you on my farm ever again.’ And that was the last time we ever saw Dick.

One morning, when all of us colts were feeding, we heard some sounds. One of the older colts amongst us knowingly announced, ‘The hounds are coming!’ We stopped feeding and trotted towards the top of the field to get a better look. An older horse and my mother were already there. My mother said, ‘They’re chasing a hare.’

We were hoping we could see the hunt when we saw the dogs rushing at top speed into the field beside ours. They made strange sounds, like I had never heard before, unusual and loud ‘Yo! Yo, o, o!’ sounds. Several men on horses followed the hounds. The old horse with my mother followed their every move very attentively and we young colts were very anxious and excited. It was as if we wanted to run alongside them.

Quite suddenly and unexpectedly, we lost sight of them. We were confused, wondering what happened. Just then, we saw that they had stopped in the fields below. The horsemen waited impatiently while the dogs ran about, sniffing the ground frantically. The old horse with my mother explained, ‘The hounds have lost the hare and are trying to locate it by its scent. The hare may escape after all.’

‘Which hare might it be?’ I asked, curious to know.

‘It could be a hare from our part of the woods, one never knows. These dogs and huntsmen can chase and hunt any animal,’ said the old horse.

They seemed to have traced it, for soon, they were back with their cries of ‘Yo! Yo, o, o!’ louder than ever. ‘Now look out for the hare,’ said my mother. A hare, looking frightened and confused, ran about, trying to cross the fence and hide at the same time. It tried to cross the fence but it was too plump. So, it turned around, hoping to get to the road.

Alas! It was too late! The hounds had rushed in, leaping over the stream with the horsemen right behind. The hounds were howling loudly which meant they got what they wanted. A huntsman rode closer, picked up the hare and everyone cheered at the end of a successful hunt.

I was so stunned that I did not notice that two fine horses and their riders had fallen in this wild chase and were groaning with pain. One of the horsemen, covered in mud, got up with great difficulty but the other horseman didn’t move. ‘He must have broken his neck,’ my mother seemed to understand.

‘Good! Now he will learn his lesson for hunting a poor little hare,’ said one of the younger colts.

‘I don’t think we should say that,’ said my mother. ‘I don’t understand why men love hunting animals. They can easily get these animals in the market. Not only do they hurt themselves but also spoil good horses and cause immense damage to fields,’ she continued, looking very upset.

We saw that our master had rushed to help the fallen rider. Soon, some men gathered around and carried him to our master’s house. Shortly afterwards, we heard the news that the rider was George Gordon, the squire’s only son, and he had died in the chase.

Riders were sent to inform his father, Squire Gordon, to get the doctor and the farrier. Mr. Bond, the farrier who put horseshoes on horses, arrived soon. He shook his head as he found that one leg was broken. Someone brought a gun from our master’s house and we heard a loud bang.

My mother was very upset after that incident. She never visited that side of the field again. She said that the name of the black horse was ‘Rob Roy’. He was a very good horse.

After some days we heard the church bells ringing for a long time. Someone said they were carrying young Gordon to the churchyard to bury him.

All I understood was that this was all for the sake of hunting one little hare.

Chapter 2

Growing Up and Moving Out

Everyone thought I was handsome. My coat was a shiny black, I had one white foot and a white star on my forehead. My master, Farmer Grey, said he would not sell me till I was four years old. He said that just as young boys should not be made to work like grown-up men, young colts like me should also not have to work like grown-up horses.

When I turned four, Squire Gordon examined me keenly. He checked that I could see properly, that my teeth were intact and that I did not limp while walking. He liked me and said, ‘Break him in properly and he will do well.’ ‘Breaking-in’ a horse is to teach it to wear a saddle and bridle, to carry his rider well and quietly. The horse must learn to understand the wishes of his rider and be well-behaved. And once the harness was on, he had to drag the heavy load of the cart. My master said he himself would break me in.

The very next day he gave me some oats and spoke to me lovingly and gently as he fixed my bit. A bit is a hard piece of steel that is fixed into the mouth and its straps go round the head. It feels awful but my master’s kind ways made it easy for me.

Next was the saddle. Old Daniel held my head while my master put it on my back gently, patting and talking to me as he tightened the straps. After a few days, my master got on my back and rode me round the meadow. It felt strange but I felt very proud and important, carrying my master.

After that came the task of wearing the iron shoes. The blacksmith took each of my feet, cut some of the hoof, and then nailed in a piece of iron on the hoof. At first, my feet felt heavier but I got used to it soon enough.

Now my master thought I was ready to be fixed to a harness. So, a collar was put on my neck and blinkers were put on either side of my eyes. Blinkers are two side-pieces that allow the horse to look only in front as the side view is blocked. I had heard that breaking-in was painful for a horse. Never in my life had I wanted to kick out so much, but I did not have the heart to kick my good master. Before long I had adjusted to it all and was working as well as my mother.

A very important part of my training was getting me used to the loud sounds of a train. My master sent me to a nearby farm which was by a railway track. When the first train rushed past, making loud sounds and puffing out smoke, I was very startled and frightened. So, I galloped to the other side of the meadow.

As many other trains went by, I saw that the cows on the farm were not troubled. After a few days, I understood that the trains wouldn’t come into our fields or harm us. So, I too stopped bothering.

Once my master thought I was trained enough to draw a carriage with a partner horse, he began to harness me with my mother. One day she gave me some great advice, ‘If you wish to be treated well, you must be well-behaved and take care of your master’s wishes. You will never know what kind of a master you may get, but wherever you are, do your best and make a good name for yourself.’

One day in May, Squire Gordon sent his man to bring me to his stables. ‘Be a good horse, Darkie, do your best!’ my master said, patting me goodbye as I left my first home.

I was taken to Squire Gordon’s park near Birtwick village. It was a beautiful place. The paddock and the stables were large enough to hold many horses and carriages. My stable was big and airy with four stalls. The first stall was called the loose box because the horse put in it was not tied. He was left loose and could do as he pleased.

I was happy to be put into this box as it was pleasant and clean. My groom gave me some very nice oats, patted me, spoke to me in a kind voice and left. Once I had finished eating, I looked around. I saw a gray pony in the stall next to mine. He was slightly fat, had a thick mane and tail, a very pretty head, and a cute little nose.

I turned to him and asked, ‘Hello! What is your name?’

He was tied, so he turned around as much as he could, and said, ‘Hello! I am Merrylegs. The ladies like to ride me. James is very fond of me too. Are you going to be here, next to me?’

‘Yes,’ I answered.

‘In that case, I hope you do not kick or bite and are well-mannered,’ Merrylegs said.

I was about to answer him when I heard someone say, ‘So you have taken my place, have you now? How rude!’ That was a tall, chestnut brown colored mare, looking at me from another stall. She looked beautiful but her eyes seemed to say that she had a foul temper.