章节正文
with your horse; he goes very much as if he had a stone in his shoe.
If you will allow me I will look at his feet; these loose scattered stones
are confounded dangerous things for the horses."
"He's a hired horse," said my driver. "I don't know what's the matter
with him, but it is a great shame to send out a lame beast like this."
The farmer dismounted, and slipping his rein over his arm
at once took up my near foot.
"Bless me, there's a stone! Lame! I should think so!"
At first he tried to dislodge it with his hand, but as it was now
very tightly wedged he drew a stone-pick out of his pocket,
and very carefully and with some trouble got it out. Then holding it up
he said, "There, that's the stone your horse had picked up.
It is a wonder he did not fall down and break his knees into the bargain!"
"Well, to be sure!" said my driver; "that is a queer thing!
I never knew that horses picked up stones before."
"Didn't you?" said the farmer rather contemptuously; "but they do, though,
and the best of them will do it, and can't help it sometimes on such roads
as these. And if you don't want to lame your horse you must look sharp
and get them out quickly. This foot is very much bruised," he said,
setting it gently down and patting me. "If I might advise, sir,
you had better drive him gently for awhile; the foot is a good deal hurt,
and the lameness will not go off directly."
Then mounting his cob and raising his hat to the lady he trotted off.
When he was gone my driver began to flop the reins about
and whip the harness, by which I understood that I was to go on,
which of course I did, glad that the stone was gone,
but still in a good deal of pain.
This was the sort of experience we job horses often came in for.
29 Cockneys
Then there is the steam-engine style of driving; these drivers
were mostly people from towns, who never had a horse of their own
and generally traveled by rail.
They always seemed to think that a horse was something like a steam-engine,
only smaller. At any rate, they think that if only they pay for it
a horse is bound to go just as far and just as fast and with just as heavy
a load as they please. And be the roads heavy and muddy, or dry and good;
be they stony or smooth, uphill or downhill, it is all the same -- on, on,
on, one must go, at the same pace, with no relief and no consideration.
These people never think of getting out to walk up a steep hill. Oh, no,
they have paid to ride, and ride they will! The horse? Oh, he's used to it!
What were horses made for, if not to drag people uphill? Walk!
A good joke indeed! And so the whip is plied and the rein is chucked
and often a rough, scolding voice cries out, "Go along, you lazy beast!"
And then another slash of the whip, when all the time we are doing
our very best to get along, uncomplaining and obedient,
though often sorely harassed and down-hearted.
This steam-engine style of driving wears us up faster than any other kind.
I would far rather go twenty miles with a good considerate driver
than I would go ten with some of these; it would take less out of me.
Another thing, they scarcely ever put on the brake, however steep
the downhill may be, and thus bad accidents sometimes happen;
or if they do put it on, they often forget to take it off
at the bottom of the hill, and more than once I have had to pull
halfway up the next hill, with one of the wheels held by the brake,
before my driver chose to think about it; and that is a terrible strain
on a horse.
Then these cockneys, instead of starting at an easy pace,
as a gentleman would do, generally set off at full speed
from the very stable-yard; and when they want to stop, they first whip us,
and then pull up so suddenly that we are nearly thrown on our haunches,
and our mouths jagged with the bit -- they call that pulling up with a dash;
and when they turn a corner they do it as sharply as if there were
no right side or wrong side of the road.
I well remember one spring evening I and Rory had been out for the day.
(Rory was the horse that mostly went with me when a pair was ordered,
and a good honest fellow he was.) We had our own driver, and as he was
always considerate and gentle with us, we had a very pleasant day.
We were coming home at a good smart pace, about twilight.
Our road turned sharp to the left; but as we were close to the hedge
on our own side, and there was plenty of room to pass, our driver did not
pull us in. As we neared the corner I heard a horse and two wheels
coming rapidly down the hill toward us. The hedge was high,
and I could see nothing, but the next moment we were upon each other.
Happily for me, I was on the side next the hedge. Rory was on
the left side of the pole, and had not even a shaft to protect him.
The man who was driving was making straight for the corner,
and when he came in sight of us he had no time to pull over to his own side.
The whole shock came upon Rory. The gig shaft ran right into the chest,
making him stagger back with a cry that I shall never forget.
The other horse was thrown upon his haunches and one shaft broken.
It turned out that it was a horse from our own stables,
with the high-wheeled gig that the young men were so fond of.
The driver was one of those random, ignorant fellows, who don't even know
which is their own side of the road, or, if they know, don't care.
And there was poor Rory with his flesh torn open and bleeding,
and the blood streaming down. They said if it had been a little more
to one side it would have killed him; and a good thing for him, poor fellow,
if it had.
As it was, it was a long time before the wound healed,
and then he was sold for coal-carting; and what that is,
up and down those steep hills, only horses know. Some of the sights
I saw there, where a horse had to come downhill with a heavily loaded
two-wheel cart behind him, on which no brake could be placed,
make me sad even now to think of.
After Rory was disabled I often went in the carriage with a mare named Peggy,
who stood in the next stall to mine. She was a strong, well-made animal,
of a bright dun color, beautifully dappled, and with a dark-brown
mane and tail. There was no high breeding about her,
but she was very pretty and remarkably sweet-tempered and willing.
Still, there was an anxious look about her eye, by which I knew
that she had some trouble. The first time we went out together
I thought she had a very odd pace; she seemed to go partly a trot,
partly a canter, three or four paces, and then a little jump forward.
It was very unpleasant for any horse who pulled with her,
and made me quite fidgety. When we got home I asked her
what made her go in that odd, awkward way.
"Ah," she said in a troubled manner, "I know my paces are very bad,
but what can I do? It really is not my fault; it is just because
my legs are so short. I stand nearly as high as you,
but your legs are a good three inches longer above your knee than mine,
and of course you can take a much longer step and go much faster.
You see I did not make myself. I wish I could have done so;
I would have had long legs then. All my troubles come from my short legs,"
said Peggy, in a desponding tone.
"But how is it," I said, "when you are so strong and good-tempered
and willing?"
"Why, you see," said she, "men will go so fast, and if one can't
keep up to other horses it is nothing but whip, whip, whip, all the time.
And so I have had to keep up as I could, and have got into this ugly
shuffling pace. It was not always so; when I lived with my first master
I always went a good regular trot, but then he was not in such a hurry.
He was a young clergyman in the country, and a good, kind master he was.
He had two churches a good way apart, and a great deal of work,
but he never scolded or whipped me for not going faster.
He was very fond of me. I only wish I was with him now;
but he had to leave and go to a large town, and then I was sold to a farmer.
"Some farmers, you know, are capital masters; but I think this one
was a low sort of man. He cared nothing about good horses or good driving;
he only cared for going fast. I went as fast as I could,
but that would not do, and he was always whipping; so I got into this way
of making a spring forward to keep up. On market nights he used to stay
very late at the inn, and then drive home at a gallop.
"One dark night he was galloping home as usual, when all of a sudden
the wheel came against some great heavy thing in the road,
and turned the gig over in a minute. He was thrown out and his arm broken,
and some of his ribs, I think. At any rate, it was the end
of my living with him, and I was not sorry. But you see it will be the same
everywhere for me, if men must go so fast. I wish my legs were longer!"
Poor Peggy! I was very sorry for her, and I could not comfort her,
for I knew how hard it was upon slow-paced horses to be put with fast ones;
all the whipping comes to their share, and they can't help it.
She was often used in the phaeton, and was very much liked by some of
the ladies, because she was so gentle; and some time after this she was sold
to two ladies who drove themselves, and wanted a safe, good horse.
I met her several times out in the country, going a good steady pace,
and looking as gay and contented as a horse could be. I was very glad
to see her, for she deserved a good place.
After she left us another horse came in her stead. He was young,
and had a bad name for shying and starting, by which he had lost
a good place. I asked him what made him shy.
"Well, I hardly know," he said. "I was timid when I was young,
and was a good deal frightened several times, and if I saw anything strange
I used to turn and look at it -- you see, with our blinkers
one can't see or understand what a thing is unless one looks round --
and then my master always gave me a whipping, which of course made me
start on, and did not make me less afraid. I think if he would have let me
just look at things quietly, and see that there was nothing to hurt me,
it would have been all right, and I should have got used to them.
One day an old gentleman was riding with him, and a large piece
of white paper or rag blew across just on one side of me.
I shied and started forward. My master as usual whipped me smartly,
but the old man cried out, `You're wrong! you're wrong!
You should never whip a horse for shying; he shies because he is frightened,
and you only frighten him more and make the habit worse.'
So I suppose all men don't do so. I am sure I don't want to shy
for the sake of it; but how should one know what is dangerous
and what is not, if one is never allowed to get used to anything?
I am never afraid of what I know. Now I was brought up in a park
where there were deer; of course I knew them as well as I did
a sheep or a cow, but they are not common, and I know many sensible horses
who are frightened at them, and who kick up quite a shindy
before they will pass a paddock where there are deer."
I knew what my companion said was true, and I wished that every young horse
had as good masters as Farmer Grey and Squire Gordon.
Of course we sometimes came in for good driving here. I remember one morning
I was put into the light gig, and taken to a house in Pulteney Street.
Two gentlemen came out; the taller of them came round to my head;
he looked at the bit and bridle, and just shifted the collar with his hand,
to see if it fitted comfortably.
"Do you consider this horse wants a curb?" he said to the hostler.
"Well," said the man, "I should say he would go just as well without;
he has an uncommon good mouth, and though he has a fine spirit
he has no vice; but we generally find people like the curb."
"I don't like it," said the gentleman; "be so good as to take it off,
and put the rein in at the cheek. An easy mouth is a great thing
on a long journey, is it not, old fellow?" he said, patting my neck.
Then he took the reins, and they both got up. I can remember now
how quietly he turned me round, and then with a light feel of the rein,
and drawing the whip gently across my back, we were off.
I arched my neck and set off at my best pace. I found I had
some one behind me who knew how a good horse ought to be driven.
It seemed like old times again, and made me feel quite gay.
This gentleman took a great liking to me, and after trying me
several times with the saddle he prevailed upon my master to sell me
to a friend of his, who wanted a safe, pleasant horse for riding.
And so it came to pass that in the summer I was sold to Mr. Barry.
30 A Thief
My new master was an unmarried man. He lived at Bath, and was much engaged
in business. His doctor advised him to take horse exercise,
and for this purpose he bought me. He hired a stable a short distance
from his lodgings, and engaged a man named Filcher as groom.
If you will allow me I will look at his feet; these loose scattered stones
are confounded dangerous things for the horses."
"He's a hired horse," said my driver. "I don't know what's the matter
with him, but it is a great shame to send out a lame beast like this."
The farmer dismounted, and slipping his rein over his arm
at once took up my near foot.
"Bless me, there's a stone! Lame! I should think so!"
At first he tried to dislodge it with his hand, but as it was now
very tightly wedged he drew a stone-pick out of his pocket,
and very carefully and with some trouble got it out. Then holding it up
he said, "There, that's the stone your horse had picked up.
It is a wonder he did not fall down and break his knees into the bargain!"
"Well, to be sure!" said my driver; "that is a queer thing!
I never knew that horses picked up stones before."
"Didn't you?" said the farmer rather contemptuously; "but they do, though,
and the best of them will do it, and can't help it sometimes on such roads
as these. And if you don't want to lame your horse you must look sharp
and get them out quickly. This foot is very much bruised," he said,
setting it gently down and patting me. "If I might advise, sir,
you had better drive him gently for awhile; the foot is a good deal hurt,
and the lameness will not go off directly."
Then mounting his cob and raising his hat to the lady he trotted off.
When he was gone my driver began to flop the reins about
and whip the harness, by which I understood that I was to go on,
which of course I did, glad that the stone was gone,
but still in a good deal of pain.
This was the sort of experience we job horses often came in for.
29 Cockneys
Then there is the steam-engine style of driving; these drivers
were mostly people from towns, who never had a horse of their own
and generally traveled by rail.
They always seemed to think that a horse was something like a steam-engine,
only smaller. At any rate, they think that if only they pay for it
a horse is bound to go just as far and just as fast and with just as heavy
a load as they please. And be the roads heavy and muddy, or dry and good;
be they stony or smooth, uphill or downhill, it is all the same -- on, on,
on, one must go, at the same pace, with no relief and no consideration.
These people never think of getting out to walk up a steep hill. Oh, no,
they have paid to ride, and ride they will! The horse? Oh, he's used to it!
What were horses made for, if not to drag people uphill? Walk!
A good joke indeed! And so the whip is plied and the rein is chucked
and often a rough, scolding voice cries out, "Go along, you lazy beast!"
And then another slash of the whip, when all the time we are doing
our very best to get along, uncomplaining and obedient,
though often sorely harassed and down-hearted.
This steam-engine style of driving wears us up faster than any other kind.
I would far rather go twenty miles with a good considerate driver
than I would go ten with some of these; it would take less out of me.
Another thing, they scarcely ever put on the brake, however steep
the downhill may be, and thus bad accidents sometimes happen;
or if they do put it on, they often forget to take it off
at the bottom of the hill, and more than once I have had to pull
halfway up the next hill, with one of the wheels held by the brake,
before my driver chose to think about it; and that is a terrible strain
on a horse.
Then these cockneys, instead of starting at an easy pace,
as a gentleman would do, generally set off at full speed
from the very stable-yard; and when they want to stop, they first whip us,
and then pull up so suddenly that we are nearly thrown on our haunches,
and our mouths jagged with the bit -- they call that pulling up with a dash;
and when they turn a corner they do it as sharply as if there were
no right side or wrong side of the road.
I well remember one spring evening I and Rory had been out for the day.
(Rory was the horse that mostly went with me when a pair was ordered,
and a good honest fellow he was.) We had our own driver, and as he was
always considerate and gentle with us, we had a very pleasant day.
We were coming home at a good smart pace, about twilight.
Our road turned sharp to the left; but as we were close to the hedge
on our own side, and there was plenty of room to pass, our driver did not
pull us in. As we neared the corner I heard a horse and two wheels
coming rapidly down the hill toward us. The hedge was high,
and I could see nothing, but the next moment we were upon each other.
Happily for me, I was on the side next the hedge. Rory was on
the left side of the pole, and had not even a shaft to protect him.
The man who was driving was making straight for the corner,
and when he came in sight of us he had no time to pull over to his own side.
The whole shock came upon Rory. The gig shaft ran right into the chest,
making him stagger back with a cry that I shall never forget.
The other horse was thrown upon his haunches and one shaft broken.
It turned out that it was a horse from our own stables,
with the high-wheeled gig that the young men were so fond of.
The driver was one of those random, ignorant fellows, who don't even know
which is their own side of the road, or, if they know, don't care.
And there was poor Rory with his flesh torn open and bleeding,
and the blood streaming down. They said if it had been a little more
to one side it would have killed him; and a good thing for him, poor fellow,
if it had.
As it was, it was a long time before the wound healed,
and then he was sold for coal-carting; and what that is,
up and down those steep hills, only horses know. Some of the sights
I saw there, where a horse had to come downhill with a heavily loaded
two-wheel cart behind him, on which no brake could be placed,
make me sad even now to think of.
After Rory was disabled I often went in the carriage with a mare named Peggy,
who stood in the next stall to mine. She was a strong, well-made animal,
of a bright dun color, beautifully dappled, and with a dark-brown
mane and tail. There was no high breeding about her,
but she was very pretty and remarkably sweet-tempered and willing.
Still, there was an anxious look about her eye, by which I knew
that she had some trouble. The first time we went out together
I thought she had a very odd pace; she seemed to go partly a trot,
partly a canter, three or four paces, and then a little jump forward.
It was very unpleasant for any horse who pulled with her,
and made me quite fidgety. When we got home I asked her
what made her go in that odd, awkward way.
"Ah," she said in a troubled manner, "I know my paces are very bad,
but what can I do? It really is not my fault; it is just because
my legs are so short. I stand nearly as high as you,
but your legs are a good three inches longer above your knee than mine,
and of course you can take a much longer step and go much faster.
You see I did not make myself. I wish I could have done so;
I would have had long legs then. All my troubles come from my short legs,"
said Peggy, in a desponding tone.
"But how is it," I said, "when you are so strong and good-tempered
and willing?"
"Why, you see," said she, "men will go so fast, and if one can't
keep up to other horses it is nothing but whip, whip, whip, all the time.
And so I have had to keep up as I could, and have got into this ugly
shuffling pace. It was not always so; when I lived with my first master
I always went a good regular trot, but then he was not in such a hurry.
He was a young clergyman in the country, and a good, kind master he was.
He had two churches a good way apart, and a great deal of work,
but he never scolded or whipped me for not going faster.
He was very fond of me. I only wish I was with him now;
but he had to leave and go to a large town, and then I was sold to a farmer.
"Some farmers, you know, are capital masters; but I think this one
was a low sort of man. He cared nothing about good horses or good driving;
he only cared for going fast. I went as fast as I could,
but that would not do, and he was always whipping; so I got into this way
of making a spring forward to keep up. On market nights he used to stay
very late at the inn, and then drive home at a gallop.
"One dark night he was galloping home as usual, when all of a sudden
the wheel came against some great heavy thing in the road,
and turned the gig over in a minute. He was thrown out and his arm broken,
and some of his ribs, I think. At any rate, it was the end
of my living with him, and I was not sorry. But you see it will be the same
everywhere for me, if men must go so fast. I wish my legs were longer!"
Poor Peggy! I was very sorry for her, and I could not comfort her,
for I knew how hard it was upon slow-paced horses to be put with fast ones;
all the whipping comes to their share, and they can't help it.
She was often used in the phaeton, and was very much liked by some of
the ladies, because she was so gentle; and some time after this she was sold
to two ladies who drove themselves, and wanted a safe, good horse.
I met her several times out in the country, going a good steady pace,
and looking as gay and contented as a horse could be. I was very glad
to see her, for she deserved a good place.
After she left us another horse came in her stead. He was young,
and had a bad name for shying and starting, by which he had lost
a good place. I asked him what made him shy.
"Well, I hardly know," he said. "I was timid when I was young,
and was a good deal frightened several times, and if I saw anything strange
I used to turn and look at it -- you see, with our blinkers
one can't see or understand what a thing is unless one looks round --
and then my master always gave me a whipping, which of course made me
start on, and did not make me less afraid. I think if he would have let me
just look at things quietly, and see that there was nothing to hurt me,
it would have been all right, and I should have got used to them.
One day an old gentleman was riding with him, and a large piece
of white paper or rag blew across just on one side of me.
I shied and started forward. My master as usual whipped me smartly,
but the old man cried out, `You're wrong! you're wrong!
You should never whip a horse for shying; he shies because he is frightened,
and you only frighten him more and make the habit worse.'
So I suppose all men don't do so. I am sure I don't want to shy
for the sake of it; but how should one know what is dangerous
and what is not, if one is never allowed to get used to anything?
I am never afraid of what I know. Now I was brought up in a park
where there were deer; of course I knew them as well as I did
a sheep or a cow, but they are not common, and I know many sensible horses
who are frightened at them, and who kick up quite a shindy
before they will pass a paddock where there are deer."
I knew what my companion said was true, and I wished that every young horse
had as good masters as Farmer Grey and Squire Gordon.
Of course we sometimes came in for good driving here. I remember one morning
I was put into the light gig, and taken to a house in Pulteney Street.
Two gentlemen came out; the taller of them came round to my head;
he looked at the bit and bridle, and just shifted the collar with his hand,
to see if it fitted comfortably.
"Do you consider this horse wants a curb?" he said to the hostler.
"Well," said the man, "I should say he would go just as well without;
he has an uncommon good mouth, and though he has a fine spirit
he has no vice; but we generally find people like the curb."
"I don't like it," said the gentleman; "be so good as to take it off,
and put the rein in at the cheek. An easy mouth is a great thing
on a long journey, is it not, old fellow?" he said, patting my neck.
Then he took the reins, and they both got up. I can remember now
how quietly he turned me round, and then with a light feel of the rein,
and drawing the whip gently across my back, we were off.
I arched my neck and set off at my best pace. I found I had
some one behind me who knew how a good horse ought to be driven.
It seemed like old times again, and made me feel quite gay.
This gentleman took a great liking to me, and after trying me
several times with the saddle he prevailed upon my master to sell me
to a friend of his, who wanted a safe, pleasant horse for riding.
And so it came to pass that in the summer I was sold to Mr. Barry.
30 A Thief
My new master was an unmarried man. He lived at Bath, and was much engaged
in business. His doctor advised him to take horse exercise,
and for this purpose he bought me. He hired a stable a short distance
from his lodgings, and engaged a man named Filcher as groom.
- gently [´dʒentli]
ad.温和地；静静地 (初中英语单词) - advise [əd´vaiz] vt.忠告；建议；通知 (初中英语单词)
- awhile [ə´wail] ad.少顷；片刻 (初中英语单词)
- harness [´hɑ:nis] vt.上马具 n.马具 (初中英语单词)
- mostly [´məustli] ad.主要地；多半；通常 (初中英语单词)
- relief [ri´li:f] n.救济；援救；减轻 (初中英语单词)
- sharply [´ʃɑ:pli] ad.锋利地；剧烈地 (初中英语单词)
- stagger [´stægə] v.&n.(使)蹒跚(震惊) (初中英语单词)
- ignorant [´ignərənt] a.无知的，愚昧的 (初中英语单词)
- carriage [´kæridʒ] n.马车；客车；货运 (初中英语单词)
- anxious [´æŋkʃəs] a.担忧的；渴望的 (初中英语单词)
- partly [´pɑ:tli] ad.部分地；不完全地 (初中英语单词)
- frighten [´fraitn] vt.吓唬，使惊惧 (初中英语单词)
- sensible [´sensəbəl] a.感觉得到的 (初中英语单词)
- companion [kəm´pæniən] n.同伴；同事；伴侣 (初中英语单词)
- squire [skwaiə] n.护卫，侍从；乡绅 (初中英语单词)
- collar [´kɔlə] n.衣领；(狗等的)项圈 (初中英语单词)
- saddle [´sædl] n.鞍子 v.装鞍(于) (初中英语单词)
- stable [´steibəl] n.马棚 a.稳固的 (初中英语单词)
- tightly [´taitli] ad.紧，紧密地 (高中英语单词)
- random [´rændəm] n.偶然的行动 (高中英语单词)
- unpleasant [ʌn´plezənt] a.不愉快的；不合意的 (高中英语单词)
- awkward [´ɔ:kwəd] a.笨拙的；为难的 (高中英语单词)
- clergyman [´klə:dʒimən] n.牧师；教士 (高中英语单词)
- contented [kən´tentid] a.满足的；心满意足的 (高中英语单词)
- bridle [´braidl] n.(马)笼头；束缚 (高中英语单词)
- traveled [´trævəld] a.见面广的；旅客多的 (英语四级单词)
- beautifully [´bju:tifəli] ad.美丽地；优美地 (英语四级单词)
- breeding [´bri:diŋ] n.饲养，教养 (英语四级单词)
- remarkably [ri´mɑ:kəbli] ad.非凡地；显著地 (英语四级单词)
- uncommon [ʌn´kɔmən] a.非常的，非凡的，罕见的 (英语四级单词)
- drawing [´drɔ:iŋ] n.画图；制图；图样 (英语四级单词)
- trying [´traiiŋ] a.难堪的；费劲的 (英语四级单词)
- unmarried [,ʌn´mærid] a.未婚的，独身的 (英语四级单词)
- holding [´həuldiŋ] n.保持，固定，存储 (英语六级单词)
- contemptuously [kən´temptjuəsli] ad.蔑视地；傲慢地 (英语六级单词)
- steam-engine [´sti:m,endʒin] n.蒸汽机 (英语六级单词)
- sorely [´sɔ:li] ad.痛苦地；剧烈地 (英语六级单词)
- considerate [kən´sidərit] a.考虑周到的；体谅的 (英语六级单词)
- arched [´ɑ:tʃid] a.弓形(结构)的 (英语六级单词)
- liking [´laikiŋ] n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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