I saw a great deal of trouble among the horses in London, and much of
it might have been prevented by a little common sense. We horses do not
mind hard work if we are treated reasonably, and I am sure there are
many driven by quite poor men who have a happier life than I had when I
used to go in the Countess of W----'s carriage, with my silver-mounted
harness and high feeding.
It often went to my heart to see how the little ponies were used,
straining along with heavy loads or staggering under heavy blows from
some low, cruel boy. Once I saw a little gray pony with a thick mane
and a pretty head, and so much like Merrylegs that if I had not been in
harness I should have neighed to him. He was doing his best to pull a
heavy cart, while a strong rough boy was cutting him under the belly
with his whip and chucking cruelly at his little mouth. Could it be
Merrylegs? It was just like him; but then Mr. Blomefield was never to
sell him, and I think he would not do it; but this might have been quite
as good a little fellow, and had as happy a place when he was young.
I often noticed the great speed at which butchers' horses were made to
go, though I did not know why it was so till one day when we had to wait
some time in St. John's Wood. There was a butcher's shop next door, and
as we were standing a butcher's cart came dashing up at a great pace.
The horse was hot and much exhausted; he hung his head down, while his
heaving sides and trembling legs showed how hard he had been driven. The
lad jumped out of the cart and was getting the basket when the master
came out of the shop much displeased. After looking at the horse he
turned angrily to the lad.
How many times shall I tell you not to drive in this way? You ruined
the last horse and broke his wind, and you are going to ruin this in the
same way. If you were not my own son I would dismiss you on the spot;
it is a disgrace to have a horse brought to the shop in a condition like
that; you are liable to be taken up by the police for such driving, and
if you are you need not look to me for bail, for I have spoken to you
till I'm tired; you must look out for yourself.
During this speech the boy had stood by, sullen and dogged, but when his
father ceased he broke out angrily. It wasn't his fault, and he wouldn't
take the blame; he was only going by orders all the time.
122