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 farther 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 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.
The longer I lived at Birtwick, the more proud and happy I felt at having such a place. Our master and mistress were respected and beloved by all who knew them; they were good and kind to everybody and everything; not only men and women, but horses and donkeys, dogs and cats, cattle and birds; there was no oppressed or ill-used creature that had not a friend in them, and their servants took the same tone. If any of the village children were known to treat any creature cruelly, they soon heard about it from the Hall.
The Squire and Farmer Grey had worked together, as they said, for more than twenty years, to get bearing reins on the cart horses done away with, and in our parts we seldom saw them; but sometimes if mistress met a heavily laden horse, with his head strained up, she would stop the carriage and get out, and reason with the driver in her sweet serious voice, and try to show him how foolish and cruel it was.
I don’t think any man could withstand our mistress. I wish all ladies were like her. Our master too used to come down very heavy sometimes. I remember he was riding me towards home one morning, when we saw a powerful man driving towards us in a light pony chaise, with a beautiful little bay pony, with slender legs, and a high-bred sensitive head and face. Just as he came to the Park gates, the little thing turned towards them; the man, without word or warning, wrenched the creature’s head round with such a force and suddenness, that he nearly threw it on its haunches: recovering itself, it was going on when he began to lash it furiously; the pony plunged forward, but the strong heavy hand held the pretty creature back with force almost enough to break its jaw, whilst the whip still cut into him. It was a dreadful sight to me, for I knew what fearful pain it gave that delicate little mouth; but master gave me the word, and we were up with him in a second.
‘Sawyer,’ he cried in a stern voice, ‘is that pony made of flesh and blood?’
‘Flesh and blood and temper,’ he said; ‘he’s too fond of his own will, and that won’t suit me.’ He spoke as if he was in a strong passion; he was a builder who had often been to the Park on business.
‘And do you think,’ said master sternly, ‘that treatment like this will make him fond of your will?’
‘He had no business to make that turn: his road was straight on!’ said the man roughly.
‘You have often driven that pony up to my place,’ said master; ‘it only shows the creature’s memory and intelligence; how did he know that you were not going there again? but that has little to do with it. I must say, Mr Sawyer, that more unmanly, brutal treatment of a little pony it was never my painful lot to witness; and by giving way to such passions you injure your own character as much, nay more, than you injure your horse, and remember, we shall all have to be judged according to our works, whether they be towards man or towards beast.’
Master rode me home slowly, and I could tell by his voice how the thing had grieved him. He was just as free to speak to gentlemen of his own rank as to those below him; for another day, when we were out, we met a Captain Langley, a friend of our master’s; he was driving a splendid pair of greys in a kind of brake. After a little conversation the Captain said:
‘What do you think of my new team, Mr Douglas? you know you are the judge of horses in these parts, and I should like your opinion.’
The master backed me a little, so as to get a good view of them. ‘They are an uncommonly handsome pair,’ he said, ‘and if they are as good as they look, I am sure you need not wish for anything better; but I see you got hold of that pet scheme of yours for worrying your horses and lessening their power.’
‘What do you mean,’ said the other, ‘the bearing reins? Oh, ah! I know that’s a hobby of yours; well, the fact is, I like to see my horses hold their heads up.’
‘So do I,’ said master, ‘as well as any man, but I don’t like to see them held up; that takes all the shine out of it. Now you are a military man, Langley, and no doubt like to see your regiment look well on parade, “Heads up,” and all that; but you would not take much credit for your drill if all your men had their heads tied to a backboard! It might not be much harm on parade, except to worry and fatigue them, but how would it be in a bayonet charge against the enemy, when they want the free use of every muscle, and all their strength thrown forward? I would not give much for their chance of victory, and it is just the same with horses; you fret and worry their tempers, and decrease their power; you will not let them throw their weight against their work, and so they have to do too much with their joints and muscles, and of course it wears them up faster. You may depend upon it, horses were intended to have their heads free, as free as men’s are; and if we could act a little more according to common sense, and a good deal less according to fashion, we should find many things work easier; besides you know as well as I that, if a horse makes a false step, he has much less chance of recovering himself if his head and neck are fastened back. And now,’ said the master, laughing, ‘I have given my hobby a good trot out, can’t you make up your mind to mount him too, Captain? your example would go a long way.’
‘I believe you are right in theory,’ said the other, ‘and that’s rather a hard hit about the soldiers, but – well – I’ll think about it,’ and so they parted.
One day late in the autumn, my master had a long journey to go on business. I was put into the dog-cart, and John went with his master. I always liked to go in the dog-cart, it was so light, and the high wheels ran along
