than all, just for want of sense; they don't mean it, but they do it for
all that. I hope you will fall into good hands; but a horse never knows
who may buy him, or who may drive him; it is all a chance for us; but
still I say, do your best wherever it is, and keep up your good name."




04 Birtwick Park


At this time I used to stand in the stable and my coat was brushed every
day till it shone like a rook's wing. It was early in May, when there
came a man from Squire Gordon's, who took me away to the hall. My master
said, "Good-by, Darkie; be a good horse, and always do your best." I
could not say "good-by", so I put my nose into his hand; he patted me
kindly, and I left my first home. As I lived some years with Squire
Gordon, I may as well tell something about the place.

Squire Gordon's park skirted the village of Birtwick. It was entered by
a large iron gate, at which stood the first lodge, and then you trotted
along on a smooth road between clumps of large old trees; then another
lodge and another gate, which brought you to the house and the gardens.
Beyond this lay the home paddock, the old orchard, and the stables.
There was accommodation for many horses and carriages; but I need only
describe the stable into which I was taken; this was very roomy, with
four good stalls; a large swinging window opened into the yard, which
made it pleasant and airy.

The first stall was a large square one, shut in behind with a wooden