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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."

Chapter 10 A
Talk in the Orchard
    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,