been rubbing her forehead."

"Ay, ay, Jim, 'tis 'the Birtwick balls'," said John, "she'll be as good
as Black Beauty by and by; kindness is all the physic she wants, poor
thing!" Master noticed the change, too, and one day when he got out of
the carriage and came to speak to us, as he often did, he stroked her
beautiful neck. "Well, my pretty one, well, how do things go with you
now? You are a good bit happier than when you came to us, I think."

She put her nose up to him in a friendly, trustful way, while he rubbed
it gently.

"We shall make a cure of her, John," he said.

"Yes, sir, she's wonderfully improved; she's not the same creature that
she was; it's 'the Birtwick balls', sir," said John, laughing.

This was a little joke of John's; he used to say that a regular course
of "the Birtwick horseballs" would cure almost any vicious horse; these
balls, he said, were made up of patience and gentleness, firmness and
petting, one pound of each to be mixed up with half a pint of common
sense, and given to the horse every day.




09 Merrylegs


Mr. Blomefield, the vicar, had a large family of boys and girls;