Mr. Blomefield, the vicar, had a large family of boys and girls;
sometimes they used to come and play with Miss Jessie and Flora.
One of the girls was as old as Miss Jessie; two of the boys were
older, and there were several little ones. When they came there was
plenty of work for Merrylegs, for nothing pleased them so much as
getting on him by turns and riding him all about the orchard and
the home paddock, and this they would do by the hour together.
One afternoon he had been out with them a long time, and when
James brought him in and put on his halter he said:
"There, you rogue, mind how you behave yourself, or we shall get
into trouble."
"What have you been doing, Merrylegs?" I asked.
"Oh!" said he, tossing his little head, "I have only been giving
those young people a lesson; they did not know when they had had
enough, nor when I had had enough, so I just pitched them off
backward; that was the only thing they could understand."
"What!" said I, "you threw the children off? I thought you did
know better than that! Did you throw Miss Jessie or Miss
Flora?"
He looked very much offended, and said:
"Of course not; I would not do such a thing for the best oats
that ever came into the stable; why, I am as careful of our young
ladies as the master could be, and as for the little ones it is I
who teach them to ride. When they seem frightened or a little
unsteady on my back I go as smooth and as quiet as old pussy when
she is after a bird; and when they are all right I go on again
faster, you see, just to use them to it; so don't you trouble
yourself preaching to me; I am the best friend and the best
riding-master those children have. It is not them, it is the boys;
boys," said he, shaking his mane, "are quite different; they must
be broken in as we were broken in when we were colts, and just be
taught what's what. The other children had ridden me about for
nearly two hours, and then the boys thought it was their turn, and
so it was, and I was quite agreeable. They rode me by turns, and I
galloped them about, up and down the fields and all about the
orchard, for a good hour. They had each cut a great hazel stick for
a riding-whip, and laid it on a little too hard; but I took it in
good part, till at last I thought we had had enough, so I stopped
two or three times by way of a hint. Boys, you see, think a horse
or pony is like a steam-engine or a thrashing-machine, and can go
on as long and as fast as they please; they never think that a pony
can get tired, or have any feelings; so as the one who was whipping
me could not understand I just rose up on my hind legs and let him
slip off behind—that was all. He mounted me again, and I did the
same. Then the other boy got up, and as soon as he began to use his
stick I laid him on the grass, and so on, till they were able to
understand—that was all. They are not bad boys; they don't wish to
be cruel. I like them very well; but you see I had to give them a
lesson. When they brought me to James and told him I think he was
very angry to see such big sticks. He said they were only fit for
drovers or gypsies, and not for young gentlemen."
"If I had been you," said Ginger, "I would have given those boys
a good kick, and that would have given them a lesson."
"No doubt you would," said Merrylegs; "but then I am not quite
such a fool (begging your pardon) as to anger our master or make
James ashamed of me. Besides, those children are under my charge
when they are riding; I tell you they are intrusted to me. Why,
only the other day I heard our master say to Mrs. Blomefield, 'My
dear madam, you need not be anxious about the children; my old
Merrylegs will take as much care of them as you or I could; I
assure you I would not sell that pony for any money, he is so
perfectly good-tempered and trustworthy;' and do you think I am
such an ungrateful brute as to forget all the kind treatment I have
had here for five years, and all the trust they place in me, and
turn vicious because a couple of ignorant boys used me badly? No,
no! you never had a good place where they were kind to you, and so
you don't know, and I'm sorry for you; but I can tell you good
places make good horses. I wouldn't vex our people for anything; I
love them, I do," said Merrylegs, and he gave a low "ho, ho, ho!"
through his nose, as he used to do in the morning when he heard
James' footstep at the door.
"Besides," he went on, "if I took to kicking where should I be?
Why, sold off in a jiffy, and no character, and I might find myself
slaved about under a butcher's boy, or worked to death at some
seaside place where no one cared for me, except to find out how
fast I could go, or be flogged along in some cart with three or
four great men in it going out for a Sunday spree, as I have often
seen in the place I lived in before I came here; no," said he,
shaking his head, "I hope I shall never come to that."
Ginger and I were not of the regular tall carriage horse breed,
we had more of the racing blood in us. We stood about fifteen and a
half hands high; we were therefore just as good for riding as we
were for driving, and our master used to say that he disliked
either horse or man that could do but one thing; and as he did not
want to show off in London parks, he preferred a more active and
useful kind of horse. As for us, our greatest pleasure was when we
were saddled for a riding party; the master on Ginger, the mistress
on me, and the young ladies on Sir Oliver and Merrylegs. It was so
cheerful to be trotting and cantering all together that it always
put us in high spirits. I had the best of it, for I always carried
the mistress; her weight was little, her voice was sweet, and her
hand was so light on the rein that I was guided almost without
feeling it.
Oh! if people knew what a comfort to horses a light hand is, and
how it keeps a good mouth and a good temper, they surely would not
chuck, and drag, and pull at the rein as they often do. Our mouths
are so tender that where they have not been spoiled or hardened
with bad or ignorant treatment, they feel the slightest movement of
the driver's hand, and we know in an instant what is required of
us. My mouth has never been spoiled, and I believe that was why the
mistress preferred me to Ginger, although her paces were certainly
quite as good. She used often to envy me, and said it was all the
fault of breaking in, and the gag bit in London, that her mouth was
not so perfect as mine; and then old Sir Oliver would say, "There,
there! don't vex yourself; you have the greatest honor; a mare that
can carry a tall man of our master's weight, with all your spring
and sprightly action, does not need to hold her head down because
she does not carry the lady; we horses must take things as they
come, and always be contented and willing so long as we are kindly
used."
I had often wondered how it was that Sir Oliver had such a very
short tail; it really was only six or seven inches long, with a
tassel of hair hanging from it; and on one of our holidays in the
orchard I ventured to ask him by what accident it was that he had
lost his tail. "Accident!" he snorted with a fierce look, "it was
no accident! it was a cruel, shameful, cold-blooded act! When I was
young I was taken to a place where these cruel things were done; I
was tied up, and made fast so that I could not stir, and then they
came and cut off my long and beautiful tail, through the flesh and
through the bone, and took it away.
"How dreadful!" I exclaimed.
"Dreadful, ah! it was dreadful; but it was not only the pain,
though that was terrible and lasted a long time; it was not only
the indignity of having my best ornament taken from me, though that
was bad; but it was this, how could I ever brush the flies off my
sides and my hind legs any more? You who have tails just whisk the
flies off without thinking about it, and you can't tell what a
torment it is to have them settle upon you and sting and sting, and
have nothing in the world to lash them off with. I tell you it is a
lifelong wrong, and a lifelong loss; but thank heaven, they don't
do it now."
"What did they do it for then?" said Ginger.
"For fashion!" said the old horse with a stamp of his foot; "for
fashion! if you know what that means; there was not a well-bred
young horse in my time that had not his tail docked in that
shameful way, just as if the good God that made us did not know
what we wanted and what looked best."
"I suppose it is fashion that makes them strap our heads up with
those horrid bits that I was tortured with in London," said
Ginger.
"Of course it is," said he; "to my mind, fashion is one of the
wickedest things in the world. Now look, for instance, at the way
they serve dogs, cutting off their tails to make them look plucky,
and shearing up their pretty little ears to a point to make them
both look sharp, forsooth. I had a dear friend once, a brown
terrier; 'Skye' they called her. She was so fond of me that she
never would sleep out of my stall; she made her bed under the
manger, and there she had a litter of five as pretty little puppies
as need be; none were drowned, for they were a valuable kind, and
how pleased she was with them! and when they got their eyes open
and crawled about, it was a real pretty sight; but one day the man
came and took them all away; I thought he might be afraid I should
tread upon them. But it was not so; in the evening poor Skye
brought them back again, one by one in her mouth; not the happy
little things that they were, but bleeding and crying pitifully;
they had all had a piece of their tails cut off, and the soft flap
of their pretty little ears was cut quite off. How their mother
licked them, and how troubled she was, poor thing! I never forgot
it. They healed in time, and they forgot the pain, but the nice
soft flap, that of course was intended to protect the delicate part
of their ears from dust and injury, was gone forever. Why don't
they cut their own children's ears into points to make them look
sharp? Why don't they cut the end off their noses to make them look
plucky? One would be just as sensible as the other. What right have
they to torment and disfigure God's creatures?"
Sir Oliver, though he was so gentle, was a fiery old fellow, and
what he said was all so new to me, and so dreadful, that I found a
bitter feeling toward men rise up in my mind that I never had
before. Of course Ginger was very much excited; she flung up her
head with flashing eyes and distended nostrils, declaring that men
were both brutes and blockheads.
"Who talks about blockheads?" said Merrylegs, who just came up
from the old apple-tree, where he had been rubbing himself against
the low branch. "Who talks about blockheads? I believe that is a
bad word."
"Bad words were made for bad things," said Ginger, and she told
him what Sir Oliver had said.
"It is all true," said Merrylegs sadly, "and I've seen that
about the dogs over and over again where I lived first; but we
won't talk about it here. You know that master, and John and James
are always good to us, and talking against men in such a place as
this doesn't seem fair or grateful, and you know there are good
masters and good grooms beside ours, though of course ours are the
best."
This wise speech of good little Merrylegs, which we knew was
quite true, cooled us all down, especially Sir Oliver, who was
dearly fond of his master; and to turn the subject I said, "Can any
one tell me the use of blinkers?"
"No!" said Sir Oliver shortly, "because they are no use."
"They are supposed," said Justice, the roan cob, in his calm
way, "to prevent horses from shying and starting, and getting so
frightened as to cause accidents."
"Then what is the reason they do not put them on riding horses;
especially on ladies' horses?" said I.
"There is no reason at all," said he quietly, "except the
fashion; they say that a horse would be so frightened to see the
wheels of his own cart or carriage coming behind him that he would
be sure to run away, although of course when he is ridden he sees
them all about him if the streets are crowded. I admit they do
sometimes come too close to be pleasant, but we don't run away; we
are used to it, and understand it, and if we never had blinkers put
on we should never want them; we should see what was there, and
know what was what, and be much less frightened than by only seeing
bits of things that we can't understand. Of course there may be
some nervous horses who have been hurt or frightened when they were
young, who may be the better for them; but as I never was nervous,
I can't judge."
"I consider," said Sir Oliver, "that blinkers are dangerous
things in the night; we horses can see much better in the dark than
men can, and many an accident would never have happened if horses
might have had the full use of their eyes. Some years ago, I
remember, there was a hearse with two horses returning one dark
night, and just by Farmer Sparrow's house, where the pond is close
to the road, the wheels went too near the edge, and the hearse was
overturned into the water; both the horses were drowned, and the
driver hardly escaped. Of course after this accident a stout white
rail was put up that might be easily seen, but if those horses had
not been partly blinded, they would of themselves have kept further
from the edge, and no accident would have happened. When our
master's carriage was overturned, before you came here, it was said
that if the lamp on the left side had not gone out, John would have
seen the great hole that the road-makers had left; and so he might,
but if old Colin had not had blinkers on he would have seen it,
lamp or no lamp, for he was far too knowing an old horse to run
into danger. As it was, he was very much hurt, the carriage was
broken, and how John escaped nobody knew."
"I should say," said Ginger, curling her nostril, "that these
men, who are so wise, had better give orders that in the future all
foals should be born with their eyes set just in the middle of
their foreheads, instead of on the side; they always think they can
improve upon nature and mend what God has made."
Things were getting rather sore again, when Merrylegs held up
his knowing little face and said, "I'll tell you a secret: I
believe John does not approve of blinkers; I heard him talking with
master about it one day. The master said that 'if horses had been
used to them, it might be dangerous in some cases to leave them
off'; and John said he thought it would be a good thing if all
colts were broken in without blinkers, as was the case in some
foreign countries. So let us cheer up, and have a run to the other
end of the orchard; I believe the wind has blown down some apples,
and we might just as well eat them as the slugs."
Merrylegs could not be resisted, so we broke off our long
conversation, and got up our spirits by munching some very sweet
apples which lay scattered on the grass.