Cathy East Dubowski - Black Beauty

Text copyright 1990 by Random House, Inc. Illustrations copyright 1990 by Domenick DAndrea. Cover illustration copyright 2005 by Xochitl Barnes. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Random House Childrens Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto. Originally published in a slightly different form by Random House, Inc., in 1990.

www.randomhouse.com/kids

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Dubowski, Cathy East.
Black Beauty / by Anna Sewell; adapted by Cathy East Dubowski.
p. cm.
A Stepping Stone book.
SUMMARY : A horse in nineteenth-century England recounts his experiences with both good and bad masters.
eISBN: 978-0-307-77162-9
1. HorsesJuvenile fiction. [1. HorsesFiction.] I. Sewell, Anna, 18201878.
Black Beauty. II. Title.
PZ10.3.D8545B1 2005 [Fic]dc22 2004013218

RANDOM HOUSE and colophon are registered trademarks and A STEPPING STONE BOOK and colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.

v3.1

The first place I can remember was a large pleasant meadow.

I lived on my mothers milk, as I could not yet eat grass. In the daytime I ran by her side. At night I lay close beside her. When it was hot, we stood in the shade of the trees. When it was cold, we slept in a warm shed near the masters house.

We were very fond of our master, Farmer Grey. He called my mother Duchess, and I think she was his favorite. He was a good kind man, so we were well off.

When I was old enough to eat grass, my mother went to work in the daytime. But she always came home at night.

There were six other young colts in the meadow. They were all older than I. Oh, how I loved to run with them! But sometimes they would bite and kick.

One day my mother told me, The colts who live here are good colts, but they have not learned good manners.

You come from a fine family. Your father has a good name in these parts, and I think you have never seen me bite or kick. So I hope you will grow up gentle and well-mannered. Do your work with a good will and never learn bad ways.

I never forgot my mothers words for I knew she had seen many things.

One day we heard the sharp cry of dogs.

They have found a hare, said my mother. Now we shall see the hunt.

A pack of howling dogs chased a frightened hare across the fields. Many men followed on horseback. The hare tried to get through our fence, but it was too late. The dogs were upon her.

One of the men rode up and whipped off the dogs. He held the hare up by the leg. She was torn and bleeding. All the gentlemen seemed pleased.

I did not know what to think!

Then there was a shout down by the brook. Two horses had fallen and thrown their riders. One man seemed all right, but the other man lay quite still.

His neck is broken, said my mother.

The men ran to his side. I heard someone say it was Squire Gordons only son.

Young Gordons black horse lay moaning on the grass. A horse doctor came to look at him. He shook his head. One of his legs is broken.

I saw a gun flash in the sunlight. There was a loud bangand an awful shriek. Then all was still. The black horse moved no more.

My mother seemed very sad. The black horses name was Rob Roy, she said. He was a fine bold horse whom she had known for years.

She never went to that part of the meadow again.

A few days later we heard the church bell ringing. They were taking young Gordon to the churchyard to bury him.

I never knew what they did with Rob Roy.

But it was all for one little hare.

In time I grew quite handsome. My coat was bright black, and I had one white foot and a pretty white star on my forehead.

When I turned four, my master said it was time to break me in. He would trust no one else to do it.

To break in means to teach a horse to wear a saddle and bridle and to carry a rider, or to pull a carriage. The horse must always do his masters will, even when he is tired or hungry.

So you see, this breaking in is a great thing.

First my master gave me some oats. He talked gently to me and petted me. Then he got the bit into my mouth.

Oh, it was a nasty thing! You cannot think how bad it felt. But I knew my mother always wore one when she went out, so I took it in good spirit.

Next came the saddle. It was not so bad. Then I had a few more oats and a little walk.

This we did every morning.

Then one day my master got on my back and rode me round the meadow. How strange it felt! But I was proud to carry my master.

The next day the blacksmith nailed a curved piece of iron to each of my hooves. My master called these horse-shoes. They made my feet feel stiff and heavy, but in time I got used to them.

Then came the harness. A stiff heavy collar went round my neck, and a bridle held leather pieces called blinkers against my eyes. I could see only straight ahead.

Next was the saddle with a nasty stiff strap under my tail. That was the crupper. I never felt more like kicking, but of course I could not kick such a good master.

After that I often went out in double harness with my mother. With her it was easy to learn how best to go.

One day she told me, There are many kinds of men in the world. Some are good and kind like our master, but others are bad and cruel.

A horse never knows who may buy him, so I do not know where you will go. But I hope you will always do your best and keep up your good name.

I did not know it then, but I was soon to leave my first home.

Squire Gordon bought me and took me to Birtwick Park. It was a pretty place with a large house and gardens. The stables had room for many horses and carriages.

I was put into a nice loose box with clean sweet hay. In a loose box the horse is not tied up but is left free to do as he likes. It is a great thing to have a loose box.

In the stall next to mine stood a fat gray pony. How do you do? I said. What is your name?

The pony turned round as far as he could. His was not a loose box, for he was tied up.

My name is Merrylegs, he said. I carry the young ladies on my back. Are you going to live next door to me? I hope you have a nice temper.

Just then a chestnut mare looked over at us. She was tied too. Her ears were laid back and her eyes flashed. So! It is you who have turned me out of my box!

I have turned no one out, I said. The man who bought me put me here. But she just turned away.

Later, when the mare went out, Merrylegs told me, Her name is Ginger. She bites. One day she bit James Howard, our stable boy, in the arm and now the young ladies are afraid to come in here. I miss them very much. Maybe they will come again now, if you do not bite or snap.