his horse, too. When he came home, the lady was at the hall door as he
rode up. "Well, my dear," she said, "how do you like him?"

"He is exactly what John said," he replied; "a pleasanter creature I
never wish to mount. What shall we call him?"

She said: "He is really quite a beauty, and he has such a sweet,
good-tempered face and such a fine, intelligent eye--what do you say to
calling him 'Black Beauty'?"

[Illustration]

"Black Beauty--why, yes, I think that is a very good name. If you like,
it shall be his name"; and so it was.

When John went into the stable, he told James that the master and
mistress had chosen a good sensible name for me, that meant something.
They both laughed, and James said, "If it was not for bringing back the
past, I should have named him Rob Roy, for I never saw two horses more
alike." "That's no wonder," said John; "didn't you know that Farmer
Grey's old Duchess was the mother of them both?"

I had never heard that before; and so poor Rob Roy who was killed at
that hunt was my brother! I did not wonder that my mother was so
troubled. It seems that horses have no relations; at least they never
know each other after they are sold.

John seemed very proud of me; he used to make my mane and tail almost as
smooth as a lady's hair, and he would talk to me a great deal; of
course, I did not understand all he said, but I learned more and more to